Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your granny passed quietly in her sleep on one rainy night nearly three months ago.

Honestly, you couldn’t have imagined her leaving this earth any other way. The neighbors who found her said she looked so peaceful it was like she was only sleeping, a cup of tea cradled in her withered hands and a smile curving her lips. You had already cried all your tears for your gentle grandmother, already made your peace with the sensation of permanently missing her with the help of friends and loved ones. But soon enough, her amenities and will came into question, and, surprising no one, you were left the bulk of her possessions. Including her house. At the behest of your family, you hopped on the first flight out to the country, to see what kind of shape it was in and to consider the option of moving in. You’d offered it to your mother first, of course, but she’d firmly declined. Back when granny traveled, your mother had watched over the house for a short while and developed an intense dislike for the small town. Insisted it was haunted. Besides, she pointed out, you had lived there with her for a while, even if only as a child too young to form concrete memories. Perhaps it would reignite some familiarity in you, give you some fulfillment that life in the busy city had failed to produce.

Three months of planning and mourning culminates in you standing in front of the small cottage, luggage by your side. It’s on a small hill, a few paces from the rest of the village. Separate enough for privacy, but by no means lonely. The trees on either side of it had made it difficult to see from the modern road and you’d had a hell of a time trying to sputter vague directions to the driver. You place your hand on the old iron of the gate, warmed by the sun, and push it open. It doesn’t even squeak, moving silently and easily as it had all those years ago. Come to think of it, you realize as you shuffle the bags through the gate and shut it behind, the garden itself still looks as beautiful as ever—well and lovingly tended bushes of rose and lavender, sunflowers and some patches of tiny white flowers you can’t identify. Grass still as green, if a little overgrown. Granny did love her plants so. The sunlight dapples through the trees and lends a hazy glow to everything in the immediate area, bathing it in soft light like a tiny piece of heaven. You trail a hand down the vine that curls over the stonework by the front porch, reminiscing on faded, incomplete memories. The old wooden door itself opens without any fuss, and you breathe in the smell of rose perfume and dust.

Simply decorated and tidy, there’s nothing to suggest that this house has been abandoned, except for the fine layer of dust. She might as well have just stepped out. You set your belongings down and take a quick look around, making sure the water works, the heating is on, etc. On your way back outside, to check the perimeter, you suddenly spot a small hole in the side of the wooden stairs leading off the porch. You can’t decide whether or not it’s human-made with as smooth as it looks. You bend to take a closer look. Something inside it glints in the sunlight as you crane downwards. Shocked, you reach forward, managing to slip a few fingers through the hole and retrieving…candy. Several old-fashioned sweets, wrapped in crinkly paper that shines. Granny was not the kind of person to stash things, you know that for sure. If she’d wanted something, she’d have had it. Must be some neighborhood kids; maybe a small creature hoarding shiny stuff.

Your first real act in this house is to clear it out, filling the hole with cotton and taping over it until you can get it properly filled in. As an afterthought, you set out a small trap that you manage to shift out from the shed—one that doesn’t harm the animal, just traps it inside. You’ll catch whatever it is and release it deeper into the woods or something.

The next step is cleaning. You spend the entire rest of your morning sweeping and scrubbing, wiping down surfaces, polishing wood, and by the time you see fit to collapse into the guest bed, you’re tired but proud of your handiwork. The shed is going to have to be something you tackle later—there’s so much in it and so many large things that you simply can’t lift, garden furniture and the like. You decide that a nap would suit you just fine and drift off on top of the covers in the guest room. Briefly in the afternoon, you dream of something scratching at the back window, but you slip back into the inky void before you can properly think on it.

You awaken to the sound of rain and realize by the rumbling of your belly that you didn’t bring anything for food besides the protein bars you’d traveled with. You slip on a jacket and shoes to head out as it begins to rain, hoping that the convenience store you saw on the way would still be open. Happily, not only is it open, but the staff is so incredibly friendly. They recognize you as being new in the area and ask you several questions on where you’re from, what you do for a living. You explain that you’re temporarily living in your grandmother’s house to sort out her belongings. They ask if you plan on staying. When you say ‘maybe’, they throw you hopeful smiles and tell you how nice it is here, how beautiful in the springtime and serene in the winter. The man ringing you up throws in a free umbrella and you thank him for his kindness, touched by how immediately they’ve welcomed you in.

On the way back, you stumble across an old bus stop. It’s built straight into the concrete and the cobbles, paint wearing thin in patches, flashing glimpses of a bright yellow beneath the faded blue. A model grins at you from a poster plastered on the inside, her product’s advertising and the details of her face both sun-bleached to the point of being indiscernible.

Something huddled within the glass corner catches your attention. It’s a tiny black cat, shiny with the wet and glaring out at the rainy sky. It’s not cold out, currently, but the rain is unrelenting. Pity constricts in your chest and you reach out a hesitant hand, thinking maybe you could entice it back to the house. It pays you no mind, but its ears flick back at your approach.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you promise softly. You turn to dig through the plastic bags and produce a small container of mostly-cooked lamb that you’d planned on throwing into a stew or something for dinner. Can cats eat lamb? You aren’t sure but the way it sniffs the air as you peel back the wrapping tells you it’s at least considering being interested.

“If you come back with me,” you goad, stretching to place a small cube of the meat as close to the cat as you can manage without it flinching, “I’ll give you a place to sleep at least. Maybe dry you off? Would you like that, kitty?”

It doesn’t move, but sniffs the air again. With all the indignity of scorned royalty, it finally bows its head to the lamb. The stray casts another glance up at you and you realize you have never seen eyes so luminous on an animal before. Green, hauntingly so, almost lit from the inside they’re so bright and clear. It looks back to the offering and slowly, hesitantly, chews off a small bit. It eats the piece as though pondering the flavor before suddenly snapping up the rest and eating like it hasn’t eaten in days. In the blink of an eye, the lamb is gone. You toss another piece towards it which the cat regards for only a moment before gobbling that down, too.

“Good kitty,” you soothe. Grasping another cube between your finger and your thumb, you gesture to convince it to follow you underneath the umbrella. To your surprise, it sits up and trots to your side, though it leaves a good foot between you. And when you move to start towards the hill again, it follows just as easily, eyes flitting between you and the meat. You lead the small cat to the cottage like this, intermittently shifting the umbrella to cover it from rain and encouraging it to walk forwards with you until you’ve reached the front gate. It stops before you do, sitting down rather pointedly to wait for you to release the latch. Even as you open it and step inside, it only watches. You wave it in, meaning for it to continue into the garden, but to no avail. It stares. You purse your lips and shift to hold the meat out closer.

“It’s okay. You can come in.”

The cat sits back up and obediently trails after the meat in your hand. It doesn’t even flinch when you close the gate behind it, being mindful of its long tail. You lead it across the stone path and into the house itself, finally laying a few pieces of lamb just to the side of the entrance hallway. It can chew on those while you look for some spare blankets. You arrange the fabric into something like a makeshift pet bed, just by the old-fashioned heater. It clanks loudly when you turn it on but otherwise seems to be in perfect working order. If nothing else, you can warm the poor thing up for the night.

“You can stay here,” you continue talking to the small animal as though it can understand you, unable to shake the feeling like it can. “And in the morning I’ll take you to the vet—to see if you’ve got a chip or anything.” You straighten to watch it finish the piece it was eating and mosey its way to the pile of blankets. It flops down on top of them with a world-weary sigh that makes you chuckle. As you drift about the house, locking the back door, closing the windows against the rain, putting the rest of the food you bought earlier away in the empty refrigerator, you keep checking in on the stray. It seems content enough to sleep where you’ve left it, and in time you’re ready for bed yourself.

“Goodnight, kitty,” you coo in the cat’s direction, curling up in bed and closing your heavy eyes. You’ll see about finding its owner, if it has one. If it doesn’t…well, maybe you could do with a companion. One day into watching this house and you already know the store owners and potentially have a pet. The thought makes you giggle at how ridiculously cozy this town is.

Sleep claims you easily, gently. Halfway through a nonsensical dream about cats and airplanes, you swear you hear the trap outside snap shut, but almost immediately decide to check on it in the morning and go right back to a heavy sleep. The rest of your dreams aren’t near as memorable, but you do smell something briefly that sticks with you even as you awaken. Like old wood and cinnamon and spice.

You wake up slowly, stretching and groaning at the pure amount of light streaming in through the way-too-thin curtains draped over the window in the room. You’ll need to buy heavier ones if you’re going to keep staying here. Still possessed by the bleariness of a deep sleep, you stagger through the door and make a beeline for the bright hallway, suddenly unsure of whether or not you’d dreamt the stray cat. Maybe mourning your grandmother has made you lonely? The pile is still there, but there’s no animal to be seen. A concerned wave of energy surges through your body, awakening you fully.

You start to look for it around the house, peering underneath all the sparse furniture and checking for loose boards or openings that could lead to the outside. After a good hour of searching, calling, waving lamb around, you finally have to give up, though internally, you’re more than a little disappointed and worried. It can’t have just vanished into thin air, but it can’t have just walked out of here, either. Everything was latched—unless it spontaneously grew thumbs and unlocked the front door by itself, you can’t think of a way it could have Mission Impossible-ed itself out. You’re struck again by the fear that grief has made you verifiably insane and go back to the fabric pile, intending to look for cat hair or something to definitely ascertain that the cat existed in the first place. Sure enough, there’s a faint outline of black fur on the white pillowcase you threw in there for padding.

There’s something else in there as well. For a moment you’re petrified that it’s droppings, but after a beat of horror realize it’s a stick of some kind. It’s the same color as cinnamon, about palm-length and sanded down to be perfectly smooth, though unpolished. One side has been worn down flat, and there are symbols and decorative borders carved into it with an incredibly delicate hand. You’re reminded of marimba bars—but only about the width of your thumb. When you pick it up and roll it between your fingers, you catch a whiff of the smell you’d dreamt of. Wood, cinnamon, spice. Like autumn. You raise it to your nose and sniff again. What sort of smell is that? You don’t remember putting it in there.

But, you finally reason, granny was a big fan of natural scents. She probably left these things around like air fresheners, and the cat could have then picked this one up. It’s not perfect but that’s the story you end up going with. You do like the smell, actually. It’s weirdly familiar, which serves to fairly well confirm your theory. A crafting bin in the spare room produces a small jewelry bag, so you can slip the stick inside, hanging it on a chord around your neck. It’s satisfying to feel the gentle smell enveloping you whenever it jostles against your chest.

Speaking of dreams. You remember with a start the sound of the trap shutting and rush to the back door to look. There isn’t actually anything inside the trap, which is disappointing. What could have triggered it you don’t know, but when you bend to reset it, you see rocks lodged inside the mechanisms, preventing it from closing. No amount of fussing or bashing coaxes them out of it and what you’re left with is a broken cage and a definite feeling like something is playing tricks on you. You sigh loudly. At this point, you still either have issues with some local kids or just a really smart raccoon. Either way, you can’t just let things be. You pull up the local hunting goods store on your phone and cringe at the direction it insists you take. Right through the woods. Oh, well. If it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped. You grab a jacket and some tall shoes for the underbrush, locking the doors as you step out, a handful of cash thrown into your pocket almost as an afterthought.

The map on your phone seems much more confident in where it’s going than you are, following a small, stony path that’s probably just as old as the village itself. In some places, it splits to runs off through the forest and you wonder where the roads might lead to. Soon enough, you lose the cottage entirely to the horizon of trees and foliage. You aren’t too worried—your signal is strong and the weather is beautiful after the rains yesterday. Warm but breezy. The bird song is definitely putting you in a good mood, and if you listen closely, you could swear you can hear a stream nearby. Not a bad hike.

Until the signal disappears off your phone so suddenly you almost miss it flitting off your screen. You halt in your tracks, lifting the device as though to present it closer to the invisible signals in the air. Nothing. You turn in your tracks and take a few steps back up the path. Nothing. You’re so invested in pressing these buttons and switching those switches that a sharp rustling in the underbrush makes you jump. Your breath catches, your mind races, scanning the bush and looking for more movement. Is it a bear? A wolf??? Are there wolves in this region? You don’t even know that much. To your delight, neither of those things is what then peeks out through the leaves at you. It’s a rabbit. Its coat is such a deep brown that it’s camouflaged almost perfectly in the bush, given away only by the occasional twitch of its nose. It’s a little larger than a plain rabbit, but smaller than a hare—and bizarrely sleek. You wonder if it’s someone’s pet.

“Hello.”

It blinks at you.

“Aren’t you pretty?” Your knees bend so that you can get a closer look, maybe take a photo. It stays remarkably still as you pull up the camera on your phone and snap one, even. You’re too entranced by the real thing to look at the picture, like it’ll disappear unless you keep your eyes on it. “Hello.” You say again with a gentle smile.

It shifts backwards. You straighten, putting your phone in your pocket.

“Don’t worry, I won’t eat you.” You reassure. “Just making my way back home, actually.”

You turn on your heel to follow the path back, but a hesitant shuffling from behind convinces you to crane your head over your shoulder. The bunny is following you at a safe distance, nose twitching. You purse your lips at it.

“You don’t like sweets, do you?” You ask it dryly, struck by the thought that this might be what’s chewed a hole in your grandmother’s porch. It blinks at you again. It springs up like a flash, suddenly, throwing itself back into the brush and zipping away. You can hear its departure for a short while before the rustling is covered up by birdsong and ambient rustling from the trees and the wind. You take that as a ‘no’ and continue on your way.

Ten minutes or so into your trek, you’re realizing that this might have been a worse idea than you thought. The paths you noticed before have gone from charming to troublesome as you can’t tell them apart until you’ve already gone too far to recall which one you’d come down through. You try to calm yourself, be logical about your advancement, but as your phone gradually drains and you still have no signal, you begin to really worry. The path that you’re currently on dissipates into a clearing you hadn’t passed before, marked only by a small stone shrine untouched by human hands for god only knows how long, and you almost fall to your knees in despair. Despite yourself, tears creep through your eyes and clog your throat. You’re being silly, you chastise, trying to wipe them away. It can’t be that hard to find your way home, and the forest here can’t be that big.

Shockingly close, you hear a bird’s song, clearer than the rest of the noise, break through your worried thoughts. It’s a sweet tune you’ve never heard before, almost too melodious to be birdsong. Looking up, you spot the tiny culprit situated on a branch just above you, regarding you with round little eyes. It fluffs its soft red feathers—nearly pink in color—and repeats its music. Unthinking, you echo it, whistling back. It shuffles on its branch, delighted to get a response, and shifts closer. It sings again, a different collection of notes, but uncannily like the next section in the same song. You smile, wiping at your tears and repeat it again, feeling put a little at ease. The small bird hops down, fluttering to land on the shrine. It cocks its head at you and peeps. It’s so cute, you can’t help but giggle at it.

You try again to use your phone, but it doesn’t work and the battery gets even lower. The bird sings brightly, cheerfully. You try your best to return the song through your frown, but the small creature seems disappointed by your lackluster effort. Absentmindedly, your hand drifts up to the bag around your neck and you rub at the stick through the thin fabric, gaining what small comfort you can from the smell of it. Maybe you could call someone? But without a signal you can’t even look up the number for a taxi service or something. You don’t know anyone in this part of the world. It’s getting harder and harder to swallow down the panic trying to crawl up your chest.

The bird sings again, but it catches your attention this time as you realize it’s moved, back towards the path. You peer at it. It peeps and bounces, craning its head in the direction you came from.

“I’m lost.” You’re engaging it in conversation before you can stop yourself. It blinks at you. “I-I’m new here. Can you go get help?”

Its feathers ruffle again. It blinks, chirps, dips its head to groom the crook of its wing. Why are you talking to a bird like it can understand?  It’s not the first time you’ve done that since you got here. You recall the way the cat looked at you. Maybe there’s just something about the wildlife here that makes you behave weirdly? Maybe you’re just going crazy. But at the same time…

This…is familiar. Almost. There is a deep memory. Too deep, too far below the surface, for you to engage with directly. Something from so very long ago. It’s been so long that it’s dissolved into only a feeling. An intuition.

You straighten. Your fingers curl more firmly about the stick hanging from your neck.

“I’m willing to bargain.”

It isn’t your lips that form those words, but they flow from your mouth like water regardless, before you’re aware that you’re even speaking them.

The bird stills. The forest around you goes silent. Nothing rustles. Nothing sings, coos, calls. Your breath catches in your throat. You can’t look away, caught in the pitch black of the bird’s eyes. A beat passes. Several. Its head inclines forward, slowly, and as it does, you can feel yourself copying the motion. The hair on the back of your neck rises with the build of some unknowable electricity.

The sounds of the forest suddenly kick back in, flooding into the background, louder even than before, sweeping you up until you’re dizzy with it, as if caught in the release from a spell. The bird doesn’t make another noise, but alights gracefully off its perch and flies back a ways, onto another branch hanging over the path. It watches you from there. Your feet move to follow it automatically, settling every inch of your sole to the bricks and worn cobbles beneath you. Just as you get close, there’s a flash of feathers and the bird flits to a different bough.

The two of you make your way through the woods like this; the bird now entirely silent, and you fully enraptured, obediently trailing behind like one sleepwalking.

There’s a flash of wood and old stone from between the trees. Granny’s house. You’d recognize that pattern anywhere. Relief rushes through you, and you spring forward with a cry of joy, laughing suddenly with a snap of built tension. You almost throw yourself onto the fence, delighted to have found your way through safely and soundly.

You pause.

A presence behind you. Not malicious, but heavy. Knowing. Intent. As you turn, you can sense that electricity from before again, crawling over your skin. Drawn as surely as gravity, your eyes meet the steady gaze of the tiny, pink bird, sitting now on the branch nearest the path into the wood. It stands out brilliantly against the backdrop of vivid green leaves, fresh and new for the spring time. The two of you lock eyes and the world spins forever into eternity between you. Empire rise and fall. Everything reduces to dust and is born again without you.

It blinks. Shuffles once, and finally darts out of sight.

In the back of your mind, you can almost hear your granny’s voice, chastising, but the shred of memory melts into the sound of the wind through the trees, the birdsong far away. You don’t remember what you were doing.

Chapter Text

So maybe you should find a map to the hunting goods store. Or else, find someone to ask about it. Getting lost is one thing, but giving up is entirely out of the question. You can’t just leave the local wildlife to chew through your grandmother’s house. There are old signs posted up at every other road or so that indicate the direction of the local library, and it seems as good a place to start as any.

The town around you is so quiet, so peaceful, you find yourself understanding why granny decided to stay here as you walk. The roads aren’t perfect—some of the side walkways are narrow and made of stone—and some of the buildings look fit to fall apart, but there’s a charm in the air. A kind of comfortableness that you could seriously get used to. Clothes strung up to dry, hanging in the spaces between pastel-colored houses. Gardens overflowing with long grass and sweet flowers waving lazily. Windowsills crawling with ivy. The whole town seems to inhale with the breeze, warming itself in the sunlight.

You’re suddenly struck by familiarity at an intersection on your way to the library and you pause to read the sign, noting the street name. Ah. That’s why you recognize this place. Down this path to the right, through the foliage…it’s where your grandmother was married. For a few seconds, you hesitate, but eventually decide to take a short detour. After all, the library isn’t going anywhere.

The road goes from concrete to cobblestone to dirt beneath your feet as you walk forwards, noting the houses becoming fewer and fewer, the trees overhead becoming denser. The light dapples as it dances across your skin, the dead leaves curling over the edges of the path. It smells fresh, sweet, like green vegetation. You turn a corner past a particularly large tree and can just make out the bridge you’d seen in old photographs all your life. But as you get closer, your heart sinks. The weeds by the pond the tree cranes over are overgrown. The path uncared for. Moss devours the railings and eats away at the wood underneath, making it almost impossible to discern what colors it was once painted. You finally come to rest at the mouth of the bridge, looking over the edge, down at the murky water below forlornly. Even your reflection is hard to see. You turn back, straightening, and start faintly when you notice a figure standing there, just out of the reach of the shade from a nearby willow that bends its head to the water, lent a halo from the rays outlining his form. Somehow you must have missed his approach, but looking at him, you’re not sure how.

He’s incredibly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, long-legged. A draft of wind sifts through the sunny sections of soft mocha hair that caress his face, almond-shaped eyes pensive as he watches the pond like someone in mourning. He’s entirely bewitching, even as he blinks slowly and turns to look at you. His lips are plump, the color of rose petals and just as delicately shaped. When he smiles bitterly, your heart breaks.

“Sad, isn’t it?” He says. He gestures around you with a hand, resuming his position leaning against the rail. His head shakes once, as if in disbelief, and he sighs. “I think so, too.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You can’t think straight. It’s the first time you’ve ever been struck wordless by someone’s beauty. “I’ve seen old photos of this place. When it was taken care of.”

“There’s no one to take care of it,” he replies quickly. “No one left. It was beautiful once.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man nods.

“Does…” You begin, haltingly. “I mean, there’s gotta be someone who still cares? Back home, we had like a community fund..for…”

He shifts to regard you again, lips curling softly.

“For uh. Community projects.” The words are sticking in your throat, your mind fogging. The intensity of the way he listens to you so closely is unnerving. “Like…revivals and stuff.”

“That would be nice.” He replies. “But nobody comes up here anymore. The locals are afraid of it.”

“Afraid?”

“They think it’s haunted.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not haunted….is it?”

He stares at you, eyes widening. His lips part, as though to speak, but they smooth into a grin instead, creasing his eyes. Suddenly, he bends and starts to laugh. The sound is infectious, high-pitched and breathless, and you find yourself smiling along.

“Depends on your definition of ‘haunted’, I suppose,” he says finally, giggling. He cocks his head.

“My name is Seokjin.”

“Have you lived here long, Seokjin?”

“Just Jin. Please. I’ve lived here for a long while.” Jin’s gaze goes distant. “A very long while. It hurts my heart to see the place falling apart like this. It’s very important to me.”

Your teeth worry the inside of your lip in the pause that follows, unsure whether you should say what you’re thinking. You can’t spend too much longer here—you still have to make it to the library and then back home before it gets dark.

“I’m new here, and I’m going someplace at the moment,” you explain, inwardly hoping he’s not secretly a murderer. “But my grandmother got married at this pond. She passed away not too long ago and I’m trying to clean her house out for now. It would mean a lot to me to see the pond clean, too--before I leave. If there was anything I could do to help…” You trail off, embarrassed.

The man watches you carefully, a smile pulling at his lips. As gentle as his voice is, as sweet his eyes, his stature doesn’t escape you. He looks strong.

“I-I, uh,” you begin again, the click in your head nearly audible, “I actually need help with the shed.”

“The shed?” he echoes.

“Yeah, there’s like, heavy stuff in it. I don’t think I can move it on my own. You know, you help me, I help you…? If that’s okay. I understand if not.”

Jin straightens.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says, eyes alight. “I will help you clean your grandmother’s shed if you’ll help me clean the pond. Our deal will be fulfilled when both tasks are done. Sound good?”

“Sounds good…yeah! Sounds good.” You nod.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

He makes a tsk noise through his teeth, leaning back and curling his hands around the rail in front of him. For a second, you’re afraid you might have bartered with the wrong person, but he looks pleasantly, warmly pleased at your offer.

“Can we start tomorrow?” he asks, voice soft as silk. “Just meet me here?”

“I can do that.” Not like you’ve got somewhere else to go.

“Good. I’m so glad.” The young man in front of you looks like you’ve just added ten years to his lifespan, practically glowing as he grins with perfect teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jin,” you reply. You turn away and make your way back to the main road. While you slowly return to civilization, your thoughts steadily turn inwards and you realize what you’ve just done. Who are you, making deals with strangers in strange towns?? The only excuse you can offer yourself is that he was so incredibly beautiful. And so sad. He seemed nice enough, though. Legitimately interested in cleaning the pond, if nothing else. You chastise yourself the whole way down to the library. Day two in this town and you probably just agreed to be murdered out in the middle of nowhere because you saw a pretty man. Shameful.

It’s impossible to deny that you want to see him again, though. And cleaning the place where she got married would have meant a lot to your grandmother, if she was here still. If she was watching. She won’t let you get murdered. You hope.

As you turn the corner, past the intersection you originally turned down, the library rises from the horizon. It’s more welcoming than threatening even with its grand height, old stonework mixed with newer additions to keep the building stable and crawling with picturesque ivy. Absently, you slide your hand over the chipped mane of the stone lion that protects the entrance as you climb the stairs and step inside. It’s cool here, and designed with a touch that seems to meld modern and antique styles seamlessly. It smells like old books and wood polish—old, but well taken care of. Towards the back, twin staircases spiral, reaching for a circular window that casts an impressive amount of patterned light over the upper level. You have to resist the urge to take photos like some gawking tourist, and instead head for the section marked ‘Local’. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around, the tall room silent as the grave. If anything, the quiet only helps you focus on the task at hand, browsing with a gentle hand through tour guides and maps of the surrounding areas.

There’s no staff, no music, nothing but you.

You’re too easily distracted by your thoughts and you end up getting frustrated by the sheer amount of maps. Comparing them against the version you have on your phone, there are always missing streets or roads that lead to nowhere—sections marked on the maps as incredibly important sightseeing destinations that aren’t even on the electronic version. Finally, you peel away from the local section, holding onto the one map you could find that seemed remotely useful, if still missing a few pieces of information. Just to the right of the doors is a wooden desk and ontop of it, a bell. You stride over and strike it, the peal ringing out clearly against the tall ceiling. At this point, you’re just hoping to catch a glimpse of literally any kind of living soul inside this building.

“You’re back.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice that instantly sounds from behind you.

When you turn around, you meet deep brown eyes set into a handsome face whose mild expression is difficult to read. A young man stands only about a foot away from you, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere with the absolute silence of his approach. Did you somehow miss him on your way in…? Hair dyed a lavender color, pushed back from his forehead, thick-framed glasses, comfortable-looking sweater—if there was ever a look that screamed ‘librarian’ any louder, you’d be hard-pressed to find it.

“I’m…what?”

He watches you past his glasses for a moment before his soft lips pull into a wry smile and his shoulders drop. “Sorry. I-I know it’s probably been a while. I…know your, um, your grandmother,” He gestures, awkwardly. “The house on the hill, right?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. That’s her,” you finally manage to reply. Damn it, he’s incredibly handsome, too. Should you hand him your credit card now or should you wait until you lose all of your good sense? “Yeah, um. She…y’know, she passed away, so I’m cleaning her house out.”

He blinks, his face falling.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. That must be…hard for you,” he mumbles, but there’s something new in his expression. Was he close to her…? The ensuing silence between you is mortally uncomfortable.

“I-I’m looking for a map,” you stammer, holding up your hand. “Y’know, a recent one.”

“…You seem to have found one.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at the paper grasped in your fingers. “Anything more specific?”

“I need hunting goods. My phone says there’s a store just on the other side of the house, but when I tried to cut through the woods, I got lost.”

The man nods, slowly, thoughtfully. He looks to you and there’s a second of silence between you as you subtly try to figure out what exact shade of brown his soft eyes are. Flush travels up your cheeks as you’re struck with the realization that he’s waiting for you to elaborate. Humour suddenly flashes across his face, breaking the quiet, and he laughs sharply, leaning forwards.

“Directions for a hunting store?” he reiterates through a chuckle. “Kind of a weird first request. The map you’ve got there is the most recent we have. Just follow the main road through the forest.” He pauses. “What do you need it for, anyways?”

“There’s something chewing holes in my grandmother’s house.”

“Ah,” his eyebrows slide upwards, legitimately shocked. He waits, seemingly unsure if you’re serious, before continuing. “And you’re thinking…animals…?”

“Yeah. I already tried to set out a trap but it broke. Something put rocks in it.”

He hums. His head cocks to the side and he tsks through his teeth, pursing his lips and studying the ground as he crosses his arms. “An animal didn’t put rocks in it. I’m surprised you don’t know better.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you say ‘chewing holes’,” he asks instead of answering, “What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s a hole in the porch. It was filled with candy when I moved in.”

“And you…?”

You frown. “I…” you repeat slowly. “Took the candy out and filled the hole? I mean, not very well, but—“

“Mm. Yeah, that’ll do it. You need to put the sweets back.”

It’s your turn to wait, for him to admit to joking. He only looks to you and blinks slowly, patiently. There’s another heavy pause. As you stare at him, his shoulders rise in a shrug.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“You want me to encourage animals boring into the house my dead grandmother lived in?” Your voice escalates as your brows crease, searching his visage for any sign of giving.

“It’s not an animal.”

“Oh my god.” Despair begins sinking in. Your mind swims with the thought of malicious children. “It’s kids. I can’t set traps. Oh, god, what if I accidentally hurt one?...”

He barks another laugh, his eyes scrunching, shoulders shaking.

“What??”

“It’s not children, either,” he says, still giggling.

Your frown only deepens. Is he making fun of you? “I don’t get it. What exactly are you suggesting?”

His laughter subsides into a short chuckle. When his eyes meet yours again, there’s a strange light in them. “You don’t remember much, do you?”

You pull back, somewhat offended. “I was like five the last time I was here?”

He chuckles and pushes his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose with a dramatic air of a teacher getting ready for his least favorite class. “Okay. Alright. From the top, then. Have you heard of faeries?”

“Like fairy tales? Of course I’ve heard of them.”

“Almost. Okay, so most old towns have their own superstitions, right? We have our own kind of faerie. They’re called Keprys. And that’s what you’re dealing with.”

You stare at him incredulously, but he doesn’t look like he’s kidding. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can,” he retorts. “I bet there was something in the house that was really well taken-care of when you got here. Floors swept, cabinets dusted, something like that?”

You think of the dust-covered rooms. “No, not really.”

“Look for it. Whatever it is won’t be done now. Put the candy back, it’ll start up again. Your grandmother had an accord with a Kepry—sweets in exchange for some chore she couldn’t do or didn’t want to do.” He leans against the bookshelf and raises an eyebrow at you. “When you took the candy, you disrupted the agreement. When you put out the trap, you insulted him.”

“Him?”

He ignores you.

“If you leave it alone, or worse, get another trap, it’ll only go downhill from there. He’ll trash the house. If he’s in a good mood.”

Your eyes narrow, your lips pursing. “If this is some kind of local hazing, I’m not into it. I’m not convinced I’m staying, anyways; you’re wasting your time trying to spook me.”

“I swear, I’m being totally legitimate.” He raises his hands, palms facing outwards. “Put the candy back.”

You hesitate, watching him doubtfully. “Okay, smart guy. We’re in a library, so…show me a source. Where’s your books on capris?”

“Kepry.” He clarifies with a slow intonation. “K-e-p-r-y. There’s only one source.”

“If you say it’s you—“

“—But it’s already checked out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To me.”

“To you??”

The man’s eyes flash and his grin returns.

“Tell you what,” He straightens. “I’ll loan you the book. But only if you bring me something of value.”

“I don’t have anything with me.”

He shrugs, pouting mockingly. Without a proper reply, he turns around and starts walking away.

“Why don’t you just give me the book? Isn’t this a library? You’re the librarian—it’s your job, isn’t it??” You call after him, incredulous at his sudden lack of manners.

“I answered your question and gave you free advice.” He spins smartly on his heel to disappear behind a bookcase across the way from you. “You’re in my debt, granddaughter of the lady on the hill.” His voice seems to echo after you from every direction. Strange, you wouldn’t consider the library as that acoustic-capable, at least not from where he was standing.

You huff, and go to follow him. “What do you mean debt—“ You pull up short as you round the corner.

He’s not there. There’s no sign of him behind the books. No sound of him anywhere.

“Hey!” You call out. No answer. The library has returned to its stifling silence. If he thinks you’re gonna waste a second playing hide and seek with him, he’s dead wrong. You stomp your foot and turn on a dime to leave, grumbling about librarians and faeries. ‘Keprys’. He had to have been kidding. Faeries aren’t real. Briefly, you think about the bird from the forest but easily shake it out of your head. You were panicking, lost in a foreign town and scared. Jet-lagged still, probably.

A car passes by the outside of the library as you exit and you’re actually surprised enough by its presence to stop and watch it go. It’s only about the second or third car you’ve seen since coming here. It’s going so slowly—the cobbles must be making the driver unsteady. You move to step behind it, your attention already drifting elsewhere, back to the house and the predicament of animals/not animals boring holes into it. Maybe you have some cash you can give him for the book on faeries anyways. Just for curiosity’s sake.

You’re almost home as you’re lost in thought trying to mentally count up how much money you have to give the librarian for the book. You can see the house now, up on its little hill, with the sparse cottages and small streets that surround it. It’s only just now starting to get late, and the threatening sunset casts a warm blush over everything, turns the shadows into a comfortable purple.

Across the street, not too far from where you are, your attention is claimed by a tiny dog. It’s a fluffy little thing, looking like a ball of soot with legs, black and brown all over. The fading sunlight catches its fur and lights embers in its outline, like a spotlight. You have to stifle a giggle at how business-like it seems, trotting along with such delicate little paws. It turns to survey its surroundings and you could mark the moment when it spots you, pausing with its fluff of a tail pointed skywards midway through a wag. Suddenly, it breaks into a run towards you. Head thrown back in excitement, yipping all the way. You start, but it means you no harm as it runs straight up to your legs and yaps loudly, dancing around your feet so intensely that its whole body actually leaves the ground for seconds at a time.

“Hello, hello!” You greet, delighted if a little surprised. It presses its head against your hand when you lean to pet it, barking and yipping. You oblige, running your fingers through incredibly soft fur, and its whole body stills. Its watery eyes blink slowly, as if savoring the touch. “Who do you belong to?”

It yips and bounces again, spinning in a tight circle, and you can’t help but laugh at the pure joy in the motion. You pet it a few more times, giggling at how eager it seems for affection. “Nobody ever loves you, huh?” You coo. “Poor baby.” After a while, you straighten, and it immediately starts barking again, rising in volume as you move to walk towards the house.

“I have to go home!” You chastise, reaching to stroke it again, but its pitiful noises only get louder. “I’ll see you later, puppy. I promise.”

It follows you up the hill, whimpering pathetically as you unlock the gate and walk inside. You look over your shoulder at it and it cries.

“Go home,” you encourage. “I’ll see you later.”

It sits down in front of the gate, looking at you with such a forlorn expression your heart breaks. You hope its okay, but it seems healthy enough; shiny eyes and coat, well-groomed. Eventually, it’ll go home, surely.

You turn back to the house, the garden catching your eye as you go. Looks like it needs some watering—maybe a little weeding here and there. Why haven’t you noticed since you’ve been here? Oh well. You guess there’s been other things more pressing in your mind. Like getting lost and meeting beautiful men. And the stray cat, can’t forget that. Oh, yeah. The sticks. Your hand flies up to the bag around your neck, rubbing at the remaining stick with a shocked realization. You forgot to look up what kind of wood it was. Maybe you’ll remember tomorrow? You can always ask the mysterious librarian or the man by the pond. He might know a thing or two about local plants. Better ask nice, forthcoming Jin about something like that instead of stingy, disappearing librarian man.

Oh.

You blink.

You never actually caught his name.

Your nose wrinkles as you frown, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. He’d probably charge you for that, too.

Chapter Text

You aren’t awakened by the sun, or by the sound of your alarm clock—set to wake you up just in time to get ready, have some breakfast, and then go and help Jin with the pond. Instead, this morning, you’re pulled from your strange dreams to the sound of birdsong. Not just any bird song, you realize groggily as you come to. The melody from the woods, specifically. You sit up in bed, rubbing at your eyes and yawning, casting a glance out your window. Sure enough, there it sits, perched upon a branch just beside the window. A tiny, pink bird. When it sees you arise, it shuffles, and repeats its song. You stare at it. There’s no way the bird followed you all the way here from the forest. There’s no reason for this one particular bird to be following you at all. As you stare, the song trails off and eventually the bird flutters its wings, head cocking. It droops comically, its whole, round body visibly shrinking. You repeat the song hastily, whistling the tune back, struck by the sudden fear you’ll hurt its feelings if you don’t. It almost immediately brightens and continues, chirping louder as you get up from the bed and move towards the kitchen. You hear it throughout the house as you get ready for the day and, not that it’s a bad song or an annoying one, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious how not normal it is to be so thoroughly serenaded by a bird. You aren’t sure you’re fully convinced by the strange librarian yet, with his ‘Keprys’ and such, but maybe he’s right about one thing—there are definitely things going on in this town that are beyond the pale. Clutching your purse, a handful of money shoved into it to try and pay for the book, you make your way outside. Maybe you can hit the library before you go to see Jin.

As you pass by the lavender, you pause, blinking at it. It’s…begun to wilt. Is it maybe not the season for it anymore? You reach out a hand to caress the fading purple flowers, feeling guilty for the dried pieces that come away with your fingers. It still smells lovely, though, and at an afterthought, you reach to the bag around your neck, taking a moment just to inhale the combination of cinnamon, autumn, and now lavender. Heavenly. A gentle smile curves your lips and you allow it, pressing on. When you come back, you’ll do something about it, you decide resolutely. The beauty of Granny’s beloved garden will not fade on your watch.

The second you get close to the fence, there’s an excited snuffle and you spot a tiny snout appearing around the bushes to the front. You can also see the fur waving in the air as the small dog from yesterday wags its tail like a thing possessed. Does it think it’s hiding?.. As you go to open the gate, you can hear it making small noises like it just can’t contain how terribly happy it is to see you again. It almost bowls you over in desperation when you finally unlatch the door and step out. You try to console it and walk past it in turn, but the way it weaves and bounces between your legs is making that very difficult. Eventually it settles for jittering impatiently by your side as you walk, occasionally yipping when your hand finds itself anywhere else but stroking through its warm fur. A strange way to spend your morning, for sure, but you don’t mind the company while you trek to the library.

The dog follows you, of course, tail bouncing congenially with every step. On the steps of the library you stop and turn towards it.

“Listen,” you warn, as it looks adoringly up at you with eyes slightly crossed from focusing too hard on you. “You can’t come in the library.”

Perhaps sensing that you’re going to abandon it again, it snuffles and whines.

“But,” you add quickly, “I’ll be right back out and we can spend time together then. I’m sure Jin won’t mind you at his pond.”

It snorts, and the force of it makes it take a step backwards, small paws dancing, but it’s still looking at you rather doubtfully. It huffs a quiet bark and you chuckle at the way it searches your eyes. Just like an argumentative child.

“I promise. I swear. Please don’t scream.”

It blinks, licks its chops and leaves its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. When it moves to sit, it’s with a weary sigh and additional whine, throwing all of its 10 pounds to the cobbles like the world is just too heavy on its shoulders. You giggle, turning up the stairs and peeking back at the door to see if its followed. But no, still sitting. Ears down, whimpering under its breath to itself. You’re left wondering once again whether there’s something wrong with the animals in this town as you push open the front doors and step inside.

The library is just as quiet, just as empty as it was the last time you were in it.

“Hello?”

“Hello.” You almost shout, but manage to choke off the end of it, whirling about to glare at the librarian. Once again, he’d somehow managed to move with all the noise of a phantom, appearing behind you out of nowhere. He smirks at your scandalized expression and chuckles when you point at him accusingly.

“You. You have got to stop doing that.”

“No way,” his eyebrows rise, lips curving into a pout. “You need to start paying better attention to your surroundings.”

“I could pay better attention to you if you were wearing a bell or something.” You huff, beginning to dig through your purse to retrieve the handful of money you’d stuffed in there, pulling it out as a handful.

“…And ruin the fun?” He glances down at the cash in your hand, but makes no move to acknowledge it.

“For the book,” you clarify after an awkward second, holding it out to him. “About faeries and stuff.”

“Did I convince you already?”

“No…but I’ve noticed some real weird stuff going on in this town and I want to cover my bases. Just in case you aren’t totally nuts.”

He hums non-committedly. He meets your gaze and doesn’t look back down, even as you wiggle your outstretched arm to try and catch his attention again.

“That’s not going to cut it,” he says finally.

You balk. “What do you mean ‘that’s not going to cut it’—what is it, covered in gold leaf??”

“I mean what I said. I don’t want a bunch of paper.”

“Look, mister—“

“I said something of value.”
“Money has value.”

“Only the value you give it.”

You drop your arm with an exasperated groan, rolling your eyes ceiling-ward. “Are you going to tell me the real book is the friends I made along the way? Because I really could be doing something better with my time.”

“I’m going to tell you the real book is very valuable to me,” He says instead. His tone is surprisingly sharp and you’re actually spellbound at the intense look he’s serving you. His eyes are so dark, so deep, you can almost see yourself in them. “If you want it, you have to barter something of equal value.”

After a moment, he speaks again, but softer, his hypnotic hold on you slipping away. “I can’t afford to replace it. I just don’t want anything happening to it.”

You hesitate.

“Okay. Something of equal value. Something that means a lot to me.”

“Yes.”

“Collateral.”

“Exactly.”

Your head lolls so you can peer at him in disbelief. He’s fighting a small smile that’s growing in the corners of his mouth, but there’s still something unreadable in his eyes. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

He shrugs. “I’ve read it several times. If you have any questions about Keprys, you can always ask me.”

“Well…okay, so…So, there’s some weird stuff happening to me lately. Weird animals.”

“Right.” You try to gauge whether or not he believes you, but his mild expression tells you only that he’s listening.

“There’s a bird that followed me from the forest. I woke up to it singing to me, like this one little song. It got…disappointed when I didn’t whistle it back? And-and there’s a dog. It looks like it’s taken care of, but it’s following me around too now and always wants attention. I guess that doesn’t really sound all that odd,” you add hastily, interpreting the stony look on his face as him getting bored with you already. “I’m not phrasing it right, but it, I mean, it just feels odd. Like they shouldn’t be acting like that. Oh! There also was—um,” You pull at the bag around your neck, taking out the fragrant stick from inside and holding it out in the middle of your palm. His gaze flicks down to it, but he doesn’t move otherwise, seemingly frozen in place as he stares. “There was a cat. And I, uh, I fed it and let it stay the night and in the morning it was gone—even though I locked everything up. And it left this stick behind. I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but I swear—“

“It’s a totem.”

“A what.”

He moves like he’s going to take it from you, but his hand retreats with a jerk and he slides both of them into his pockets, taking a step back instead, eyeing your hand as warily as if you were holding a knife. “A totem. It’s the reason you keep having these run-ins. The cat was a Kepry. You did him a favor, so he left you a totem.”

“What’s the point of that…? What does it do?”

The librarian blinks, briefly looking away. “You break it, and they show up to accomplish whatever task you need help with. It’s a summoning. But it’s also why the others keep coming to you. They’re drawn to it.”

You frown. “Oh.”

“You should get rid of it.”

“What, like throw it away?? Seems kind of rude…I like the smell of it.”

“Just summon him for something small. If you keep it for much longer, weird things will keep happening to you.”

“I mean…nothing bad has happened.” You argue for reasons you aren’t sure of.

“Yet.”

“They wouldn’t hurt me, would they?”

He blinks, studying you past his glasses. There’s something in his expression, some old hurt, lurking behind his eyes. “You should get rid of it.” He repeats, slowly.

You think of the small bird. Of the fluffy dog. The stray cat. Not exactly the most threatening creatures you’ve come across. A summoning totem could be really useful, if that’s what is. Besides, all of this hinges on this random guy telling the truth. The only real way to find out if he is or not is to get your hands on that book. If it even really exists. But, you’ll admit, this all feels very intriguing. And you don’t mind having something to do when you aren’t cleaning. A little quest. Mysterious book, mysterious librarian, weird animals. You feel like a YA novel.

“Something of value to me.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow, then. Again. I’ve got a bargain to keep today.” You say resolutely, stuffing the money back into your purse and turning. You miss the faint look of alarm on his face as you do.

“…A bargain to keep?” he echoes quietly, his voice drifting away from you as you make your way to the front door.

“Yeah, I’m helping a guy clean the pond down the road.” You reply, already trying to think of something you could trade. Something of value? It feels skeevy to consider trading something of Granny’s, but maybe you can scrounge up something small and convincing as collateral. You’ll look through your suitcase later.

“Wait—“

You’re already out the door, making your way down the stairs. Halfway down, you look over your shoulder, up at the building, but whatever it was that required your attention must not have been that important because the librarian hasn’t followed you out. You purse your lips and shrug.

The small dog out in the front is still sitting there, but the minute you come back into view, it’s popped up animatedly, tail wagging, tongue lolling, panting and yipping breathlessly. It won’t allow you more than a few paces before you have to pet it to stop it from weaving around your feet.

You’re struck by disappointment when you reach the pond and don’t see the man from yesterday. Immediately followed by frustration when you realize that you’re so disappointed in not seeing him again. He’s probably busy doing something else. Not like he owes you his appearance. Besides, he said ‘tomorrow’—didn’t specify when. Maybe you’re just early. Overeager. As you muse on this, the small dog by your legs falls silent. It keeps walking in front of you, laying its body against your shins as if to herd you back home. It dodges your attempts to pet its head, intent on keeping a strict eye on the smooth surface of the pond. You see why a few seconds later. Underneath the bridge, gliding across the water with a gentle motion like it was floating on air, a swan passes by through the pond. It doesn’t look directly at you, but the way its wings flutter as you watch gives you the impression it’s not any less aware of your presence.

Now, if there was anything in this town that could convince you of magic and otherworldly creatures, this would be it. You feel like you shouldn’t even be looking at it, it’s so beautiful. Even with the disrepair of the pond and the bridge around it, it’s the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen. The light catches its pristine feathers, its delicate neck, the impenetrable coal of its eyes. It looks like a painting. As it drifts past, the fur on the dog’s back rises slowly, and a deep sound echoes within its small body. It’s growling at the swan, stiffly standing between you as firmly as though it were made of stone. It only gets worse when the swan curves towards you and comes closer. You try petting the dog more, coax it into relaxing, but it won’t be moved, and it doesn’t stop the constant, low rumbling in its throat until the swan has begun to float peacefully, if reproachfully, to the other side of the pond instead of approaching you.

“Aw, come on, puppy,” you chastise. “It didn’t mean any harm. If it was angry, it would hiss. Swans hiss when they’re angry,” you add, unsure of why you feel the need to explain swan behavior to a dog. “Or afraid. It didn’t look scared of me, though. Probably been here for a long time. Used to people. Maybe it’s used to being fed.”

You pause, watching the swan glide towards the opposite bank, barely even pulling any ripples from the water.

“Maybe I could bring some food for it. Do you think Jin would mind?”

The dog whines, sneezes, and bounces once, still glaring out over the water at the retreating water fowl. Finally satisfied with the distance between you and the bird, it spins and offers you a snuffle and a quiet yap, tail picking up a proud wag once more. You sigh, but reward it with a few gentle strokes anyways. For whatever reason, it was trying to protect you from something unfamiliar and you can’t really fault it for that.

You stand and cast another look about, but still you don’t see the man from yesterday. He probably isn’t even up yet. What time is it? You’re shocked to realize that you aren’t even sure. Time seems to have less meaning in this town, you’ve noticed.

You decide after a beat to visit back here after you’ve tended the garden. You aren’t one to go back on your word, after all, but you can’t just sit here all morning either. Maybe you’ll bring lunch. Sneak in a slice of bread or two for the swan? The dog will have to stay somewhere else. You aren’t sure how you’re going to manage that.

You cast it a sideways glance as you go to walk back down the path, but it’s just as happy to meet your gaze as ever, panting and jittering in mounting excitement when it realizes you’re looking back. You stifle a laugh at the adoration in its slightly crossed eyes.

As you turn the corner to make your way up to the cottage, you realize that there’s someone standing inside of the fence. You can’t see their face, but catch glimpses of faded pink and purple-ish hair as it bobs about your garden. You blink, confused and a little wary, stepping to the gate. The dog at your feet immediately bristles, growling again, louder. Strangely enough, you feel a little grateful for its’ protective company now as you stare at the stranger yanking at your granny’s flower bushes. It’s a man. Long-limbed and lithe, he reaches thin fingers towards a rose and snaps the head off, discarding the blossom to the ground.

“Hey!” you start, suddenly indignant, throwing the gate open and stepping inside. The dog immediately melts into a cacophony of shrieking barks, and you have to raise your voice to be heard. “Excuse me!”

The stranger pauses, swivels to rise to his full height and casts you a perfunctory glance. “You’re excused?” he offers, brows rising. His features are so finely chiseled, high cheekbones, delicate lips, and soft eyes that glitter in the sun.

“Who do you think you are?”

The dog continues to bark loudly in the background, occasionally stopping to gather its breath.

The man blinks, as though surprised by the question. It takes him a moment to reply. “I’m the gardener. Or, I was.” He looks back to the flowers and sniffs once, shaking his head. “The contract is over, I guess.” He mumbles.

“You didn’t hear? She…she’s dead. My grandmother.” He doesn’t react, so you quickly reiterate, “The owner of the house.”

He hesitates again and looks at you, something stirring in his eyes that you can’t quite understand. “…I’m sorry…for your loss.” He adds after a beat, as if unsure it’s the right thing to say.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

The uncomfortable quiet that attempts to settle between you is broken when the pup begins howling. You have to stifle an exasperated laugh.

“I’m gonna guess he found you, then.” The stranger puts in, inclining his head towards the gate.

“What do you mean?”

“Taehyung.”

“Is that his name?” You throw a glance over your shoulder. ‘Taehyung’ wheezes, trying to yap pointedly at you but seemingly going hoarse. He bounces forward, head nodding towards the ground passionately, and that’s when you notice that the gate isn’t even closed properly. Probably best that he doesn’t seem to realize, or else he might do something to the ‘gardener’. At present, you aren’t sure you’d stop him.  

You turn back to the man in question, folding your arms over your chest.

“Um, so. Like I was going to say, she passed away. The house is mine, now, I guess, for as long as I want it.”
“Is that right?” He doesn’t seem particularly interested.

“I don’t have a lot of money. To keep your services, I mean. For the garden.”

He only watches you as you attempt to stammer your way through a halfway decent explanation, growing steadily less and less coherent under his gaze.

“Just, please don’t…destroy it? I don’t really understand why you would do that.”

“I don’t appreciate being conned.” Is his terse reply.

“I’m sorry?” You’re a little taken aback by his coldness. “I mean, like I said, she…my grandmother died. If you think got the short end of the stick, I…I’d like to know if I can make it up to you maybe? If that’s how you feel?”

He pulls a thoughtful expression, lips pursing, eyes flicking skyward. By the gate, Taehyung sneezes and hacks once, then resumes his tirade with renewed energy.

“If you can make my time up to me, then I’ll work for you.” The gardener says finally. “If you still want my services. If not, the contract needs to be dissolved and I’m taking the plants with me.”

“Uh, alright.” You blink. It seems a solid enough argument, coming as it is from a man that waltzed into your yard and started ripping the heads off roses. “That…I guess that’s fair. Honestly, I’d prefer if granny’s garden stayed as beautiful as I’ve always remembered it, and well…I don’t exactly know what I’m doing with flowers.”

His face breaks out into a smile at that, eyes glittering. “You liked it?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s always been so gorgeous, even as a kid, I loved playing in it.”

“You don’t remember Taehyung, but you remember my garden?”

“…I’m sorry?” You peer at him curiously.

His grin grows wider, and he breaks into a laugh that squishes his cheeks, shoulders quaking, hand coming to hide his mouth behind his knuckles. “He won’t forgive you, you know. But I’ll take it. I’m glad you remember my garden so fondly. Just for that, I’ll give you a day to decide what you want to do with the contract.”

“That’s…nice of you.” There’s some weird energy going on with this guy. You aren’t sure what it is, or what it means for you. He moves to turn away and you start, straightening.

“W-wait! You didn’t give me your name.”

“I didn’t.” He cocks his head, still grinning absently.

“…What is it?”

He smiles at you, and it’s like he’s trapped the sun behind his teeth, lighting up his entire face. “Hoseok. You can call me Hoseok.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to see you again.”

You’re so busy trying to unpack that statement that you don’t even react, really, when he goes to step towards the gate, until you realize that Taehyung is visibly bristling and snarling over by the door. You rush forward quickly, mind spinning with visions of ankle mauling, gathering the small dog in your arms and stepping out of the garden, to the side to allow Hoseok to pass. He’s heavier than he looks; solid, warm, and softer than you could imagine. He smells…oddly sweet. Clean, fresh, warm. Like honey. He struggles, yipping in a high pitch, but suddenly goes completely limp in your grasp. You look away from the gardener to stare at Taehyung, shifting his weight to turn him around. Did you…did you hurt him? He has his eyes closed, paws in a resting position in front of his chest. Part of you panics. Did you pick him up too fast? Are little dogs really that delicate? But no…no, he’s breathing. He’s just…sleeping? Or maybe just content? You can see him blinking underneath his eyelids. Under your incredulous gaze, a tear rolls out from his eye and his entire body shudders with a weary sigh. He’s not hurt. He seems to be basking in the sheer amount of contact you’re affording him. You snort. Typical. You should have guessed.

When you look up, Hoseok is gone. He must have better things to do than hang around and get threatened by small animals.

Chapter Text

You make sure your garden gate is latched properly, and put Taehyung gingerly on the ground, despite the way he snuffles and whines at you when you do so. If you’re going to hire that gardener then you don’t really need to do much with it after all…Just have to think of a way to pay his wages. ‘Make his time up to him’, he said. You scrunch your nose, deciding to focus on other matters first. He did say he’d give you a day to make up your mind, so you might as well shelve it for now. You could go back inside the house to get some less than appetizing travelling snack foods plus the junk food you purchased when you went up to the store last or you could always go back to the store and buy some ready-made sandwiches from there? At least that way you don’t have to explain the ingredients to Jin if he asks. Right on the packaging. It’s perhaps not the most elegant of meals, but something about Jin tells you he won’t mind too much. You head for the store, already feeling lighter at the prospect of seeing the keepers again.

The peal of the bell when you push the door inwards and step in is so cheery, so light and melodic, it automatically brings a smile to your face. The shop is small, barely larger than some gas stations you’ve seen. The outside is ringed with produce—local, judging by the handmade signs and cheap prices, the strong smell of freshly picked fruits and vegetables. The inside is sparsely, cheerfully, decorated but remarkably tidy. The half-length windows at the walls let in so much sunlight that the industrial lights ahead aren’t even on and yet the entire space is bright and inviting. None of the shelves are higher than your shoulder, so it’s possible to view the entire store from the get-go.

“Hello,” the elderly man at the register greets, wrinkled face brightening at your entrance. He straightens a little where he’d been leaning against the faded blue counter, chatting with the woman at the end. “Back again, eh?”

“Yes, back again,” you laugh shyly, “I’m just—oh! I’m sorry!” At the brush of fur against your ankle, you start, bending to gather Taehyung again and edging awkwardly back through the door, tucking him under one arm. Instead of struggling, he merely huffs a pleased sigh, relaxing his entire body in your grip. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t allow pets.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine!” the older lady by the counter insists quickly, shuffling forward in worn slippers to gesture you into the store. “We don’t discriminate against customers. Not this close to Spirit Lights.” She winks at you and reaches to pet Taehyung.

“He, um—“ you begin to shy away, petrified that your little terror is going to bite this lovely old lady, but instead he leans gladly into her touch, tail wagging, tongue lolling. “Oh.”

“You and your handsome escort,” she says, completely serious, almost with respect. “Are more than welcome in our humble shop.” You stifle a chuckle at that.

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Perfectly alright.” She reassures you, firm.

You shift him in your arms, unsure if letting him loose is really something you should be doing, but one stern look from her has you persuaded.

“This close to spirit lights?” You repeat, curious, letting Taehyung down gently. Contrary to your fears, he sits down obediently by your feet and merely sniffs and casts mild looks about the place.

“The kids around here call it Sprite Night,” the man pipes up helpfully. The woman scoffs.

“That is not its name, and you won’t catch me repeating it. It’s disrespectful.”

“Nobody believes in the old superstitions anymore, Eunju.”

“I believe the old superstitions, Sungmin, and I say it is disrespectful.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” you say.

“Never?” the woman echoes, peering at you with surprise.

“She was very young when she was here last, she said,” the man adds, shaking his head in sympathy, throwing you a labored roll of his eyes when the woman’s back is turned. “Can’t expect such a traveled young lady to remember all the old, odd, hang-ups from each and every small village between here and the coast.”

“Not every village has Spirit Lights,” the woman insists, suddenly spinning on her heel with a fortitude shocking for her age and trudging underneath a heavy blanket hung over the doorway to the back of the store, still grumbling in concern as she goes. The grey hairs peeking beneath her bandana wave in the air with the waddling motion. “It’s dangerous. Especially for people who don’t know any better.”

“Please excuse my wife.” The man leans conspiratorially across the counter, flashing a mock fearful look to where she had disappeared. “She just worries, you know.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you return with a soft giggle. “I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that this poor girl was in danger of being spirited away, just like that.” The wife continues, volume rising as she returns. She throws the blanket hiding the back room aside as though vaguely annoyed with it and toddles closer. She’s now bearing a small, handcrafted bag in her arms that she cradles like a child.

“Shame on you, Sungmin,” she adds, slapping his arm with a frown. He recoils dramatically, closing his eyes, mouth open in a mock cry of pain. “My hearing hasn’t gotten any worse yet, you know. Apologize for me, will you?”

“What?” He leans forward, cupping his ear. He retreats, laughing, when she hits him again.

“Excuse my husband,” she says tersely, ignoring the childish face he pulls at her back. “He’s an idiot.”

She straightens to her full height, still a full head shorter than you, and begins to explain.

“Spirit Lights is a festival we hold here. It’s in four days. There will be food and drink, stalls, produce, music—the children love it. But you have to make sure you’re home before dark. Once the sun starts setting, everyone lights candles and sets them outside, to show the spirits the way through the town, so that they don’t get lost on their way to the other side. You cannot, cannot, be outside during the nighttime on Spirit Lights. Otherwise, they will take you with them as they go. Even if you see ones that you recognize, don’t follow them. It’s the one night that their contracts break, you see, so even ones that you’re familiar with could turn on you.”

Taehyung sneezes loudly and shifts to sit closer to you, nearly ontop of your foot. The woman eyes him cautiously, almost warning, but reaches into the bag.

“Now, if you absolutely must go outside during that time, you’ll need this.” She retrieves her hand gently from the bag and produces a white mask. It’s half-sized, only the top half of a cat or maybe fox face, with small pointed ears on the top and narrow eye holes. It’s intricately painted with blue and yellow markings down the forehead and up the cheeks—obviously well-crafted, hand-made, and much older than it looks. “A mask will hide you just fine—you will be no more than a ghost to them.” She pushes it back into the bag, gathering the ribbons threaded through the sides gently into the opening. When it’s all safely inside, she pulls out a small carving. It’s stone, and when she straightens her arm towards you, you copy the motion to take it from her. It’s shockingly heavy in your palm, cool, and smooth. An expertly carved tiger, mouth bared in a snarl, stepping down from its craggy perch.

“If you place this at any doorway, they won’t be able to cross the threshold—private property or no.” she says, adamant. “They can be persuasive if you let them, but they won’t be able to worm their way out of obeying a stone predator.”

“I see,” you reply. You aren’t going to remember all this, but it doesn’t escape you how serious she’s being. She probably actually thinks she’s protecting you against spirits. And considering the things you’ve been experiencing lately…you’re almost convinced yourself. You hold it back out to her, but she shakes her head, holding the bag out at arm’s length.

“Take them,” she encourages. “No charge.”

You balk, flush travelling up your face. “I—I mean, I can’t—“

“You’ll have to give the mask back after Spirit Lights is over, as it’s an heirloom,” she interrupts your stammering with a disapproving hum. “And as for the tiger...” She rolls her eyes with an exasperated chuff through shaking lips, her frame sagging in exhaustion.

Her husband pipes back up from where he’s resumed leaning onto the counter, chin in his palm. He looks half ready to fall asleep in the warm sunshine streaming in from outside. “Please, please take the tiger.” He chuckles, eyes still shut.

“My mother carves them,” she adds in a defeated tone.

You reach out for the bag, accepting it gingerly with a grateful nod. You make sure to slide the tiger back inside with a gentle hand, so that it doesn’t break or jostle the mask too hard.

“We can’t get rid of the damn things.”

“She means well,” the woman sniffs. “She does.”

“She’s convinced that being protected from the spirits means she’ll live forever.”

“Well, it’s worked so far, hasn’t it, Sungmin? I don’t see you trying to extend your life, what with all the sweets I watch you eat.”

“Bah!” he makes a dismissive gesture, eyes sparkling when he grins at you. “I will die the way I lived.”

“With your belly full and your mind empty, I expect!”

“Just like that!”

You laugh at their banter, slipping the strap of the bag over your shoulder and making sure it’s secure. Sweets. Oh! Right. While you’re here, you might as well try what the librarian suggested.

“Do you sell sweets?” You ask.

“Of course!”

Miss Eunju shows you around the shop, helping you pick out a bag of candies (You don’t mention what they’re for, but she insists the larger bag is better quality for money, anyway) as well as a few sandwiches of varying flavors. Taehyung, the entire time, is happy enough to plod along with you, and never so much as gives more than a wayward sniff at the food items at his level. Impressed, you throw in a few dog treats at the checkout. Mr. Sungmin beams at you as he tallies it all up, and though neither of you says anything, you notice he rounds your total down.

You can’t stop thanking them for their kindness and they continue to wave it off, shaking their heads.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Mr. Sungmin insists gently, laughing with a dry wheeze. “Just make sure you come back. If Eunju doesn’t see you after Spirit Lights, she’ll worry.”

“He won’t,” Miss Eunju scoffs. “He’ll take a nap and forget you were ever in here, the silly old man.”

“Your silly old man.” Sungmin leans over and slips her arm under his, patting her wrinkled hand familiarly. She allows it with a roll of her eyes and an exaggerated sigh, but you can see the fondness in the way she leans back against him.

“Thank you again!” You call, opening the door and stepping back through, played out by the bell. Taehyung skips and hops to catch up with you, tongue lolling, tail wagging. You wave at the two shopkeepers through the glass, unable to keep the grin off your face when you spot them waving back. Feeling content, you turn and make your way back down the road. The sun is high in the sky by now, as warm as it’ll get for the day, and yet still not too hot. There’s a breeze that pulls playfully at your hair, caresses your face, smelling like green plants and sunshine.

“When will I have that?” you ask Taehyung conversationally, still smiling. “They’re still so in love, did you see them? So cute.”

He skitters after you, occasionally breaking into a canter when your own pace quickens in thought. He’s no less cheerful looking than you feel, if seemingly focused on your ankles with laser-precision. You slow down to allow him the chance to match your strides. The trees ahead cast gold-tinged, dappled light everywhere, sheltering you and turning the air cool.

“You were so good in there,” you add to your companion. “So well-behaved. I really thought you were going to attack them like you almost did with Hoseok.”

Hoseok. Your mouth quirks, now distracted. What are you going to do with his contract? Even with as little as you’ve bought just now, you certainly don’t have enough left in your budget for a professional gardener. But, to be fair, he didn’t say how much he wanted. ‘Make it worth his time’ was all he said. Not at least trying to retain him isn’t an option. You can’t imagine the kind of damage he could inflict on granny’s precious garden.

“…Do you think he likes sandwiches?” you ask wryly after a moment of listening to the leaves rustling, the distant sound of birdsong, the gravel and dirt crunching beneath your feet. “Or…maybe candy? Can I pay a gardener with candy?” The thought is entirely ridiculous, but there’s a chance it could work. You could halve it between Hoseok and the kepry apparently living underneath your porch—two birds, one stone. It might be worth a try. He might think it funny enough to laugh off and not get majorly offended. You don’t need him to continue its maintenance, even, really. You’re more than willing to put in the work yourself. You’d just prefer he didn’t snap the heads off all the roses and pull out all the lavender to begin with.

You’re still pondering the ramifications of proposing you pay off a professional with sweets when your thoughts are momentarily interrupted by a rustling noise just behind you. A shuffling, a skid, and then silence again. Probably just some small animal, going about its day. You don’t pay too much mind to it except that Taehyung is noticeably put on edge, ears twitching backwards, snapping his tongue back into his mouth with a doggie equivalent of a grim expression. You blink at him as you continue to walk, bemused by his sudden change in attitude.

“Taehyung?”

He huffs, frustrated, turning into almost a growl. His businesslike trot turns intent, his head intermittently swiveling to look behind the two of you.

“Is there—“ Another rustle, closer. You crane your head, peering at a bush to the side of the walkway that’s shifting suspiciously. “…Something wrong?”

Taehyung growls louder this time, weaving between your legs towards the bushes, and you almost step on him, tripping over your own feet trying to avoid planting your shoe on his small back or treading on his little paws.

“Oh, leave it alone, come on,” you complain.

He doesn’t heed you, instead baring his teeth in a snarl, planting his feet and standing his ground. His hackles raise, giving him even more fluff than usual and succeeding in somehow making him look even more absurd.

“Taehyung!” you chastise with a sigh. And just after praising him for being well behaved, too. Somebody isn’t getting his doggie treats, that’s for sure.

There’s another rustle, and this time you can see a dark shape darting forwards, shaded by the underbrush. Taehyung lunges and a silky brown foot intercepts his nose instantly, kicking him backwards with a yelp before the shadow breaks into a run, barreling out of the hedge with a hurried gait, ducking and weaving as Taehyung throws himself wholly into pursuit, now barking in a frenzy, the two of them streaking past you and continuing further down the trail. It’s that rabbit, the one you saw in the forest by the house, you’re sure of it. Sleek as ever, and faster, even, than Taehyung’s paws can keep up with, hauling down the dirt path at impressive speeds, sending small rocks and dirt scattering.

You stare in shock, so busy watching them racing along, when you realize they’re nearing the mouth of the trail, which opens into the road.

“W-wait!” you call, as if they can understand, picking up your feet to jog after the two animals, suddenly panicked at the thought of harm coming to either of them.

The rabbit keeps its pace, but Taehyung slows as he reaches the end of the path, skidding to a halt just before the asphalt, still barking his foolish little head off. The rabbit throws a look back, spinning ‘round, and as you come up by the small dog, you realize with shock that there’s a car coming in this direction. It isn’t moving that fast, but the driver won’t be able to see anything so small from this close. The rabbit doesn’t move, instead going completely stiff where it’s stopped, crouched, and stares at the car’s approach. Without thinking, you’re stepping onto the road, ignoring the way Taehyung immediately bursts into desperate screaming, reaching for the rabbit, who only sits, frozen in place, eyes wide and focused on the fender of the vehicle. You reach forward, gathering it in your arms, careful not to let either the shopping bag or the cloth bag touch the ground, hefting the sizeable bunny up and carrying it to the other side of the road just as the car shudders to a halt.

You spin, still holding the creature, looking to the driver. You’re a little in shock—did you really just do that…? The driver blinks at you in surprise, but understands what you’ve done when he looks to the animal in your arms. He nods, once, in gratitude, and you slowly return it, watching him continue to inch down the road with care. The minute the car has passed, Taehyung is zipping back up to your side, barking and trying to leap upwards, snapping at air just below where you’ve got the rabbit cradled. You look down at it. It looks up at you, nose twitching spasmodically, body completely still. It’s even silkier to touch than it looks, soft as Taehyung if not softer, heavy and hot—both from running and from warming itself in the sun. A waft of vanilla drifts past as the two of you lock gazes and you wonder absently if someone’s been bathing it in the stuff.

“That was close,” you say breathlessly. “You need to be more careful, little guy.” It blinks up at you. A beat passes, its nose twitching before it stops entirely. Slowly, hesitant, as though expecting you to bat it away, it raises one smooth paw. You’re almost afraid that it’s going to claw at your face (do rabbits do that?...) but instead, its paw lands at your chest, just over where you’ve hidden away the cat’s totem under your shirt. Its eyes widen. Taehyung pauses and begins barking anew, in a higher volume. The rabbit suddenly jerks, kicking upwards. In your shock, you allow it to leap up out of your arms, using your shoulder and elbow as purchase to jump off, lunging for the undergrowth on the side of the road. Taehyung darts forward, and you dart after him, but just as he snaps at the air just behind the rabbit’s foot as it disappears into the greenery, so does your hand clasp nothing as he runs—their chase, restarted with vigor.

“T-Taehyung!” you shout as he charges into the leaves, still baying in a high pitch as they crash noisily through the thickets. You pause, considering going after them, but even now as you’re considering, the sound of Taehyung’s barking is becoming faint. You’d never catch up, and you’re more than likely to become lost again anyways instead. Frowning at the trees, now slowly regaining their silence with quiet rustling, though you can still hear the yapping at a distance, you decide you’ll leave it. He isn’t really your dog, in any case, you remind yourself with a disbelieving scoff. You don’t know why he’s so insistent on hanging out with you. Protecting you from gardeners and rabbits. The devils. He’ll know this village better than you ever will. You’re certain he won’t get lost or hurt.

You shift the bags more comfortably on your shoulders and turn, heading down the path that will take you back to the intersection. As you go, you pass by the bus stop, and your mind drifts to the cat you saw on the first night. The totem hanging around your neck. The way that rabbit touched it was almost reverent, if rabbits were capable of feeling reverence.

It’s also why the others keep coming to you. They’re drawn to it.

Is it possible that the rabbit is one of them? A kepry, a spirit? What kind of ancient spirit stops in front of a moving car?... You scoff to yourself. Not a very bright one.

Maybe Taehyung is one, too, then, if the standards are so low.

That makes you giggle to yourself as you walk, looking both ways before crossing onto the side of the street that leads to Jin’s pond. You could always ask him, you reason with yourself in a spark of inspiration. Even if you see the ones you recognize, the lady had said. If the storekeepers knew about spirits, and if he’s lived here for a while, then maybe Jin will recognize some, too. If only you could show him the rabbit…You’re reminded of the librarian, warning against traps, but you agree with him too quickly. You wouldn’t want to hurt the little guy anyway…Ah, wait! Didn’t you take a photograph when you first saw him? That would be just perfect!

Suddenly excited, you dig into your pocket as you dip underneath the cover of trees again, passing the worn signpost. You retrieve your phone, inwardly rolling your eyes at the low battery percentage, and flick through to your photos. It’s the last photo you’ve taken, so it doesn’t take long to find it. You tap on the thumbnail, pulling it up. It’s definitely the same rabbit, big and shiny, peering at you from underneath the leaves, eyes wide. It’s a little blurry but it’s not a bad picture, altogether. Jin should be able to at least tell what it is…Wait. You squint closer, brow furrowing. There’s a smudge in the upper corner. Maybe you got your finger in the frame by accident or something.

You stop in your tracks. A chill races down your spine, ice-cold and reaching, turning the quiet of the trees around you into a deafening, suffocating silence. It’s not a finger. They’re shoes. Red sneakers, white socks, muscular calves. You’re frozen in place. You lift the phone closer, holding it almost at your nose as you pinch and swipe at the screen, trying to shift it this way and that, trying to understand. You wrack your scrambled brains for an explanation, squinting hard. Maybe it’s a trick of the light? But even as blurry as some of it is, it’s unmistakable now that you’ve recognized it. Two legs, socks, shoes. There’s someone standing in the corner of this photograph, just behind where the rabbit is hiding.

Was there someone there yesterday? You’re certain there wasn’t. You’re positive there wasn’t.

“You came back.”

Jin’s voice snaps you out of your confusion, and you look up to see him standing in front of you, a gentle smile pulling at his pink lips.

“Uh,” you blink hard, switching the phone off deftly and sliding it back into your pocket, trying to return his pleased expression. You’ll revisit that mystery later. Best not to mention it to Jin until you’re certain you aren’t crazy—seeing things, or not seeing things. “Yeah. Y-yeah, uh, and I brought snacks, too! Just in case.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He nods, glancing off to the side and pulling air through his teeth. His eyes meet yours again and widen slightly, his grin growing. You can’t help the rise in your chest at his soft look. You’re glad you haven’t disappointed him, haven’t somehow been made late to your agreement. “Are you ready to clean the pond, then?”

“Definitely!”

“Not gonna go back on your word?” He teases.

You huff, crossing your arms, planting your feet in a playful show, already feeling lighter, more determined. “Never.”

He nods approvingly and turns, waving his hand in the down the dirt road, cocking his head. “Then let’s get started, while the day’s young.”

Chapter Text

Cleaning the pond with Jin isn’t exactly what you’d call easy or fun, but it’s good, honest work. You wade through the edges of the pond collecting trash, sleeves pushed up on your arms, shoes perched precariously to try and avoid actually stepping in the murky water. You make a mental note to see if there’s anywhere to buy a pair of rubber boots better suited for this kind of job, but for now, you’ll just do your best. You’re helping him pull the weeds trying to claim the underbelly of the bridge, scrubbing at the moss growing there, and even cutting back some of the willow tree’s long tresses with a pair of unwieldy hedge trimmers. 

Once your arms start to ache, and you’ve begun to get tired, you suggest stopping for the moment and he agrees readily. A sunny patch of warm grass to the side of the bridge is where you end up taking your rest, sitting comfortably beside each other to survey the work you’ve done so far. It’s looking better—one day and two people haven’t returned the pond to its former glory just yet, but it’s starting to make a difference. As the sunlight heats your skin, the breeze cool while it caresses the water from your sleeves, you’re struck once again by the peace that seems to steep into the very breath of this town. The trees rock gently, murmuring hushed stories into the green-scented breeze, the light and shadows underneath their leaves chasing each other across the grass and glinting off the water. Altogether not an unpleasant way to spend your afternoon. 

Jin’s company has been pleasurable the entire time as well—you don’t even realize how much of yourself you’ve been talking about until you have to take a break for something to eat and with your mouth full of sandwich, it’s suddenly quiet. 

“Sorry I’ve been talking so much about myself,” you add, swallowing and throwing him a sheepish look. His grin only grows wider.

“Trust me, I’ve enjoyed hearing you talk as much as you seemed to enjoy sharing,” he returns. The sun ahead, hot with the passing of the hours, cradles his hair in a soft halo and lends a gleam to his eyes. As he sits there, bathing in it, even covered in moss stains and dirty water from the ankles down, dark water staining the edges of his rolled sleeves, he looks like a painting. Delicate brush strokes shaping the curve of his face, the slant of his eyes, the petal-softness of his lips. So much in this town is beautiful beyond comprehension, and if anyone was living proof of that fact, it was Jin. He’d give even the possibly-magic swan a run for his money. 

“While we’re taking a break…” you say suddenly, remembering the rabbit with a start. “Jin, would you mind looking at something for me?”

“Certainly.”

You fish out your phone, wiping one hand absentmindedly on your pants, flicking with your thumb through to your photos. Your other hand holds the rest of your sandwich aloft, pausing in your consumption in favor of concentrating. 

“Okay, so, I...I’ve been running into some of your local wildlife. And I’ve had a couple people tell me that they’re these spirits, right?”

“Keprys,” he puts in, clarifying. 

“Yeah, that’s them. Um...I was just wondering...you’ve lived here a while, you said?”

He watches your eyes, blinking once, waiting patiently for your point. “Yes, I have.”

“Would you recognize one? If you saw it?”

“Yes.”

You nod once and reach out to hold the photo of the rabbit towards him, scrutinizing his face anxiously for any sign that he’ll make fun of you for believing in children’s stories.

“Okay, so what about this one?”

Hopefully, he won’t think you’re crazy. Or at least, he won’t be mean about it. Surely, he can’t throw you out of his company over something as silly as local folklore. Not when you’ve just spent an entire afternoon helping him clean his pond. But instead, he immediately bursts into bright, sparkling laughter. 

“That’s Jungkook.” he says. “I’m surprised you managed to catch a photograph of him. He’s very quick on his feet and incredibly shy.” He takes your phone from you gingerly, inspecting the picture with a cautious touch. Instead of pinching or tapping the screen, he only tilts it side to side in his hand as if to appraise it better from different angles. You wonder if he sees the legs, but if he does, he makes no mention of it. You decide you won’t bring it up.

“Jungkook.” you repeat. “Is he...I mean, is he one of them?”

Jin’s smile reappears, and he cocks his head. “Is Jungkook a kepry, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.” He cranes to offer your phone back, pressing it in your palm with a touch that you swear lingers for a half second longer than necessary before it retracts. “Jungkook is a kepry.”

“The librarian said that keprys would be attracted to this totem I got for helping another one,” you add, hesitant. “And I feel like he—Jungkook?—I feel like he’s been following me ever since. It’s kind of like—” Jin’s head whips around in shock, eyes wide. 

“Librarian?” He echoes, cutting you off. “You saw Namjoon?” 

Your nose scrunches with curiosity. “Is that his name? Purple haired guy? Likes to be really vague? Hangs out in the ivy-covered library?”

“That’s him. That’s Namjoon.” Something curls in Jin’s eyes, furrows his brows momentarily. His voice goes soft, and he shifts, plucking at his trouser leg with an absent air. “How...How is he?”

You stare at him, intrigued by the change in atmosphere. “He’s...fine, I guess?”

“I don’t see much of him. That’s all.” He explains hurriedly, though you can tell he’s sitting on legitimate concern, biting back more questions. 

You can understand that. Working too hard, not getting out enough with your friends. That used to be you, before coming here. You can’t imagine being cooped up all the time in a place like this. Your smile is wry, but comforting, you hope. “He doesn’t get out much, huh?”

“No. He doesn’t.”

You pause. “What about that festival that’s coming up?”

“Spirit Lights?” he seems taken faintly aback. “What about it?”

“Can’t you see him then? The lady at the convenience store made it sound like a holiday. Doesn’t he get the day off or something?”

“Or something.” Jin snorts, staring at some indeterminate space near the pond. He blinks, hard. “We always see each other during Spirit Lights. It’s just...It only comes every so often. You know? I worry.”

“I get that.” 

“What else...did Namjoon say to you?” 

“There’s a book about keprys that apparently could be really useful for dealing with them, but he won’t give it to me.”

“It can be a very dangerous book.” His tone has become serious, and his gaze into space hardens, dark brows creasing. “He wouldn’t lend it to just anyone.”

“He said I need something of value for it. He wouldn’t take my money.”

“Very few people in this town barter for money.”

“What would you give him?” 

Jin turns to look at you again, a sideways grin on his lips, his eyes curving with amusement. “Me?”

“Yeah, what would you barter for a ‘very dangerous book’?”

He sits there for a moment, his expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and humor, before it breaks with a bark of a laugh, his head dropping. 

“‘Something of value’,” he repeats. “Well, it would have to be something close to my heart. Something of my past, maybe. A fragment of who I am, who I was, who I could have been.” 

“That’s really specific.”

“I’ve been here a while. I know a lot about how these deals work. It would have to be the one thing I have that means that much to me.” 

You muse over his words, finishing your sandwich thoughtfully. Suddenly, an idea occurs to you with a flash of inspiration. “Maybe there’s some old keepsake at the house that fits that description? In the shed, maybe?”

He shrugs, pouting, but his eyes glint. “It’s worth a look.”

You stretch your legs out with a luxurious, assenting sigh, eyeing the fluffy clouds drifting ahead. You balk when you realize that the sky is already threatening to cool, the sun beginning to hide her face in the treetops. 

“Oh, man, it’s later than I thought it was. I should really be getting home.”

“Should you?...” Jin echoes. You can feel the hesitance in his frown, though he smothers it quickly and stands up gracefully, offering you a hand. When you take it, you feel a thrill race through your skin, dancing up your spine, setting your body aglow as it travels. This time, he definitely lingers, long fingers curled around your palm.

“Thank you.” He says after a beat. “For your help. I’ll be over tomorrow to help with your...shed, was it?”

“It was.” You reply. “I’m at the house on the hill. The one in front of the forest, with the iron fence.”

His face lights up in recognition, his eyes suddenly searching yours with something like shock. “The house on the hill.” 

“...yes?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” He hesitates. “I...I knew of your grandmother. We only met once, but I heard about her from the others. I didn’t realize it was...it was her who...that you lost. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” you reassure him with a soft smile. He lets go of your hand and you fight against the vague disappointment taking place of his warmth. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Jin watches you peculiarly. “...you’re taking care of Taehyung, then?” he adds after an awkward beat. 

“The dog?” you blink, surprised. “Yeah. I mean, sometimes. I don’t know, he just started following me around. He really, really didn’t like the swan we saw up here this morning, and he almost ate the gardener.”

He nods. “He...sometimes gets frustrated. But if he’s protecting you, then it makes sense.”

You laugh at that. “Protecting me. Yeah, from swans and gardeners. And rabbits. Jungkook.”

“He really does have your best interest in mind. Please don’t be too hard on him.”

The breeze kicks up just then, sending his hair waving gently across his face, bent in a serious frown. You stand transfixed, utterly bewitched, by his eyes. The bright sunlight glances off the brown depths, lit like lanterns against a mild summer’s night. Weariness lives there. An old soul, tired and heavy, but sincere. Your breath catches in your throat, but you manage to nod, feeling quite suddenly as though you’ve been entrusted some kind of weighty responsibility. He smiles, and again your heart twists in your throat, just as when you met. 

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow? Right?” 

“Right.” 

Like one wandering inside of a dream, you make your way down the path towards home, mind swimming against the pull of a tide that seems to lead back to the pond, back to Jin. Please don’t be too hard on him . What a weird thing to say about a dog. But it’s not like you’re gonna leave him alone to go wild and bite everything you come across. He’s not even really your dog! Everyone you’ve met seems to have decided that he’s your problem now. Even you are having a hard time keeping the inherent strangeness of his affection in mind.

You just hope Jungkook is okay...you aren’t convinced that he means you any harm. Despite what the librarian— Namjoon , apparently—seems to think about keprys, you can’t imagine such a sweet bunny machinating anything beyond harmless. He probably just wanted to see the cat’s totem up close or something.

You reach the mouth of the walkway, just by the sign, and pull up short when you realize there’s a young man perched atop the sign, sitting comfortably, a mischievous if shy grin pulling at his plush lips as he watches you emerge from the trees. 

“Hi,” you greet, taken by vague surprise to see him but remembering your manners in the nick of time. 

He shifts, tugging absently at the fluffy blue jacket hood he has pulled over his pink hair, his grin growing wider, pushing his eyes into crescents. 

“Hi,” he echoes, the end of his voice pitching almost into a giggle. “Hanging out with Jin?”

Your first knee-jerk reaction is to be distrustful of him, to hear a stranger so immediately know your business, but after a moment of bristling it occurs to you that everyone in this small town has to know each other. He must be a local, then, familiar with Jin. You relax into something more congenial. “Yeah. I’m helping him with the pond. Cleaning it and stuff.”

He hums in mild understanding, nodding, casting his glance to the side. His leg bounces atop the sign a couple times. Though his face is sweet, his voice high, and the pastels of his outfit speak to an almost childlike gentleness, there’s a sharp gleam in his eyes when he looks back to you, smirking.

“Not getting lost in the woods?” he says, playful. 

“Lost? Well...maybe once.” you admit with a small laugh. “But it’s alright. I got out in the end.”

“All by yourself?” His face freezes, smile fading slightly at the corners. He searches your eyes as he stares.  

“No, I , uh…” you chuckle, awkward. “I followed this cute little bird out. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear that’s what happened.”

His friendly manner returns in full force before you even realize it was dissipating, his grin turning radiant, clutching adorably at the sides of his hood with a saccharine giggle. He’s blushing, his cheeks pushed up and together by his small hands. 

“I don’t think it’s crazy,” he replies in a reassuring tone through chuckles. 

“No?”

He shakes his head, sending bubblegum-colored strands dancing with the movement. 

“I guess there’s a lot of odd stuff that happens in this town.” 

“You don’t know the half of it.”

You hum in agreement and crane around him, peering at the road, and seeing no cars, you decide to throw him a passing wave and friendly smile. “Well, I should get going. It was nice to meet you…?” 

“Nice to see you again,” he interrupts cheerfully. “Ah, you probably should be getting home before dark. Wouldn’t want the spirits to get you.” 

You think of Jungkook and snort as you turn, beginning to cross the street. “Thanks, but I think I’m alright.” 

“And be careful around Jin.” 

His tone has dropped. You swivel on your heel when you reach the other side of the road, throwing him a peculiar look. His smile hasn’t disappeared completely, instead quarantined to the edges of his lips, turning wry. It’s almost calculating, the way he watches you.

“...Why?...”

His eyes widen innocently, brows lifting into his hair. “You can’t just bargain with everyone you meet. It’s dangerous. Who knows what you’ll agree to?”

A scoff leaves your mouth, and you shake your head, turning away to hide the flash of indignation that courses through you for a half-second. You’re sure he’s only trying to be helpful, but it’s really none of his business. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He laughs again. The sound is like a brook in summer—light, bubbly.  “Don’t misunderstand; you’re already in debt. I just don’t want him to get in the way.”

You look to him in confusion and disbelief, but are met with only an old sign and an empty crossroads. Swiftly, you spin, casting your scrutinizing gaze about the trees, the road, but there’s no evidence that the soft-looking man ever even existed. 

Talking to yourself? You don’t think you could have imagined up an entire person like that. No, he must have just taken that split second and run away. What a weirdo. Never mind the animals, it’s the locals that sometimes behave the most oddly. Must be something in the water. If you stay here long enough, are you going to start disappearing when people turn their backs? 

Why not, you think to yourself. If only to get your own back a little, maybe.

By the time you start climbing the hill to the house, it’s just beginning to really settle into evening, the air cooling and the sun casting warm rays everywhere, sharpened to individual shards of light through the trees. You can see the house, the iron gate, the beginnings of the garden within, and a small shape, pacing frantically up and down by the gate. Taehyung notices you long before his form registers properly in your mind, and before you can even really react, he’s torn down the stone-marked path towards you, small legs flying out under him in his haste to reach you, gravity threatening to pull him head over heels. He’s yapping as he barrels over, skidding from the sheer force of his sprint, his sweet voice pulled taut into what you can only describe as breathless worry and desperation. You murmur soothingly, rolling your eyes as you stoop to pet him, but he’s jittery on his tiny paws, incapable of sitting still, whining and huffing, hoarse as he blinks up at you and attempts to press as much of himself against you as physically possible. 

“Now, really ,” you chastise under your breath, shifting the bags on your shoulder to bend closer, trying to thread your fingers through his soft fur in a reassuring kind of way. “Now, honestly . Taehyung. You don’t get to act like this when you’re the one who left me , remember?” 

He makes an impossibly distraught noise, turning balefully into a long howl, and you can’t help but laugh at the sound. He sounds like his heart is breaking, throwing his head back and crying of all the injustice in the world. To hear him, you’d think he was dying.

“Okay, pup, okay,” you interrupt his lament, stroking his face, around his ears. “I hear you. It’s alright. I’m okay, I promise.” 

You straighten, walking towards the gate, and he immediately makes a beeline for your ankles, keeping in pace with your strides as though leaving your side would physically wound him. When you reach for the iron, he starts making this huffing, sobbing noise that even as ridiculous as it is, tugs at your heartstrings. You hesitate, curling your palm around the gate. He was here this morning. You doubt he went anywhere last night. Besides, you let the cat stay the night—where would be the fairness in disallowing your new companion, especially when he seems so incredibly upset at the thought of leaving you behind again?  

You think again of Jin’s words. 

A small dog so famous that everyone who meets you immediately knows his name has to be an upstanding member of the community, you continue to reason with yourself. He’s well-groomed, shiny-eyed, and obviously clean. If his owners don’t mind him wandering the town all the time, then surely they won’t miss him one night?

You interrupt his pitiful snuffling in a quiet tone. “What do you think, Taehyung? Just one night?”

He immediately goes silent. When you look to him, his ears have perked up, head cocking to the side. As you watch, his ears flick, back, then front again. A shuddering sigh escapes his small snout as he bores holes in your eyes with his round, slightly-crossed ones. 

“Just the one.” you reiterate. “As a thank you. For trying to protect me.”

His fluffy tail wags, once. Twice. Hesitant, he leans back on his haunches to place a delicate paw just below your knee. His tail starts up again, beginning in earnest now. 

“You wanna spend the night with me? Hmm?” 

His ears go flat and he whines, low. 

“Alright. Come on.” You unlatch the gate, pushing it open and stepping inside. When you turn to glance at Taehyung, he hasn’t moved, stock-still where you left his side. You blink at him, curious. “You can come in,” you say, and he immediately skips over to you, tail breaking the sound barrier with how it furiously wags, a bounce in his step, but such deep, quiet adoration in his eyes, you wonder again why this dog is following you around so much. You close the gate between the both of you, leading Taehyung into the house. 

He is adamant on staying by you, though occasionally he sniffs at the air, the floor, snuffling like he’s hunting some scent. At one point, he noses violently at the radiator where the cat had slept, tail pausing in its waving as his mind diverts all energy to thinking. 

“Was there a kitty cat there, Taehyung?” you ask him in a high pitch as you set the bags on the kitchen table, craning to peer at him from beyond the door frame. He sneezes, huffing a small, unimpressed bark at the radiator, before looking back up at you. 

When you take a shower, he lays patiently in front of the bathroom door. You almost knock him over with it when you step out with a towel wrapped about your body, but he’s just as happy to see you as ever, casting a glance up at you and wagging his tail. You hesitate, peering back at him. Do you change with him in the room?...Your lips quirk. 

Finally, you decide to leave him outside the bedroom door while you put your pajamas on. It’s just too weird. He isn’t really your dog , and besides, with all this talk about keprys and spirits...best not to take any chances anyways. When you open the door, he’s sitting patiently in the hall, tail thumping against the floor to greet you again as if for the first time. While you mill about the kitchen, putting together a quick evening meal, he follows you, though he’s so much more relaxed inside the house and so much quieter. 

You slip him a dog treat from your bag as an afterthought. He sniffs at it, but doesn’t eat it, electing instead to prop himself against your chair when you sit down with a leftover sandwich from the store. Jin’s sandwich. You realize with a bit of shock that he never ate it, or did you even offer? Embarrassment flushes your face, but if he’d been hungry he could have just as easily said so. You’ll be sure to be a better host tomorrow, while he helps you with the shed. 

“Are you gonna bite Jin when he comes over tomorrow?” You ask Taehyung absentmindedly, throwing him a glance underneath the table. He sniffs in reply. “You can’t. You have to leave him alone. He’s a nice guy.” 

He doesn’t seem too convinced, but lays his head on his paws with a quiet snuffle. He perks up when you get up to wash the dishes, moving to sit by you on the placemat. It’s dark now, the yellowed lights in the house lending an almost dreamlike quality to the spaces, chasing the shadows into the corners of the room, and when you crane your head out the window, you can see the twinkling of so many stars in the velvety sky. You briefly consider spending some time stargazing, but eventually decide against it. You need to be up nice and early again, if only to make sure you don’t make Jin wait. How embarrassing would that be? 

Taehyung trails you silently to the bedroom, and for a half second you consider turning him out, making him sleep by the radiator, but there’s something so familiar, so comforting, to watch him standing by the bed expectantly, waving his tail when you look down at him. 

“Come on, up you go,” you say, and before you’ve even finished speaking, he’s hopped upwards, alighting on the covers with a grace you didn’t expect. He waits as you turn the light off and sink into the bed yourself before he begins tapping cautiously over in your direction. You can feel the change in pressure on the sheets as he walks, feeling for the bed underneath like he’s actively avoiding stepping on you. For a moment, you’re afraid he might start licking your face once he gets close, but he only bumps against your nose with his small snout, before turning and situating himself at your chest, snuggling into you. He’s so hot against you, so soft and warm, you can’t help but curve one hand into his fur, cuddling up with him as he sighs, bone-deep. The gentle smell of honey and warm sunshine emanates from him, light and sweet.  For a second, you’re afraid you might not get to sleep—when was the last time you slept with a stranger’s dog in your bed, after all?—but he immediately slacks into deep, contented breaths and the sensation is so calming you’re drifting before you can even worry too much about it. Again, the spark of familiarity occurs to you and you curl closer to him, stroking at his fur lazily. 

“Night, Taetae,” you hum, unaware that you’re even saying it until it’s left your lips as a mumble. Just before you fall into the void of sleep, you imagine he whines quietly in the dark.

Chapter Text

Barking. Taehyung is barking. Silly dog. Silly, silly dog.

He’ll wake Granny with all that ruckus. Scritch, scratch, scrabble. Scratching at her window—she doesn’t like it when he does that. 

You giggle in your half-awake state, reaching under the blankets for him, waking slowly as you come up empty, seemingly alone in your bed but not in your room. Taehyung is quiet for a half second, panting, before he launches into a new tirade, breathlessly excited. You shift, opening one eye to see him standing delicately on top of the desk underneath your window. He has both paws on the window, and digs at it furiously while he yaps. Scritch, scratch . 

“Taehyung, shh,” you try to shush him, but he only throws you a quick glance before returning to his sentry at the widow, head moving intently as he follows something’s path through the yard. “You’ll—” You pull up short of what you were about to say. ‘You’ll wake Granny.’ Sadness sinks into your heart briefly, but you shake your head, pulling yourself up further on the bed and threading a hand through your hair in exasperation. “You’ll give me a headache is what you’ll do,” you finish finally, though there’s no real bite to it. You sling the covers off your legs and go to stand, settling your feet into the floor familiarly, feeling the chilly, polished wood with a stretch of your toes. 

Yawning, you stride over to him, hooking a stabilizing arm under his chest to stop him from moving while you survey whatever it is he’s hunting. The tree outside waves in a slight breeze, and brings attention to a small shape bouncing impatiently on a branch nearby. Round, pink. The little bird chirps merrily at you when it sees you, and Taehyung explodes into a volley of excited whuffles, squirming in your grasp. 

“That bird,” you say to Taehyung, after a beat. “Are you...is that what has you so riled up?” 

Taehyung whines. He places a small paw on the thick glass pane, and you can feel his tail wagging underneath your arm. 

“You want to go outside, huh?” you continue, partly talking to him, partly muttering to yourself. “But if I let you outside, are you going to attack that little bird? I can’t have you eating what is probably a faerie , Taehyung. You’ll get us both in trouble.” 

The bundle of fur in your arms starts thrashing again, his snorts of excitement turning up in pitch and volume along with the violence with which he struggles. Eventually, you have to let go of him so you leave him on the desk. He taps off it immediately, landing by your legs with an expectant wag of his tail. You stretch again, and go to walk out into the hall. The entire time you make yourself breakfast, meandering around the small kitchen with a comfortable familiarity (though it feels weird to be able to reach all the cabinets), he’s rushing underfoot, dodging and rolling beneath you, huffing all the way. You make yourself a nice, warm mug of tea and move to the front door, pretending like you aren’t one misplaced step away from accidentally squashing the energetic ball of fluff shooting across the floors with the skitter of small claws against wood. 

“You can’t—Taehyung, listen to me—you can’t eat it.” You warn, laying your hand on the handle. He bounces and snuffles impatiently. “If you hurt that bird, I won’t let you in the house ever again. Do you understand, Taehyung?”

He yaps, once, and you elect to take that as a yes. Slowly, you open the door, being careful to mind his tiny snout when he wedges it excitedly into the doorframe. As soon as he can wriggle his body through the space, he’s off like a shot, tearing through the bushes towards the side of the house, legs flying, fur waving in the air. 

“I’m watching you!” you call after him, following with as much haste as you can muster, first thing in the morning and cradling tea in your hands. But the scene that greets you when you peer around the corner is far from the violence that had you concerned. The bird has dropped to the ground, bouncing and chirping just as Taehyung circles it, paws outstretched in play. Their dance is frenzied, musical, inexhaustible, but even with the frantic motions, the wild spinning, they’re both so extraordinarily careful with each other. At no point does Taehyung land a paw on his feathered friend, and the bird, in turn, seems to dip its beak out of his way when necessary. Together, they dance and call, the noise almost too melodic, too full of joy to be annoying, even this early in the morning. 

You settle yourself on the edge of the porch to watch them, warming your palms with the hot tea, breathing in the gentle scent of tea and fresh morning air. It’s not so cold that you would need a jacket; even with the sun only just now peering over the tops of the trees, casting warm shades across the grass and painting the world in a new beginning, the temperature is mild and pleasant. You catch a whiff of the lavender plants by the front of the house and throw a saddened glance at one when you realize that it’s wilted even further, threatening to give up the ghost any moment now. That gardener...You’ll have to give him his candy soon, see if perhaps that’ll be enough to convince him back. And if not, you’ll have to find some way of keeping it yourself. Maybe Namjoon has a book on gardening. Taehyung returns to full-force barking in the background.

“Good morning.” 

You start faintly at the voice that comes from your gate, blinking up in surprise at the tall man leaning on it. Ah. The reason you could hear Taehyung again is because he’s spinning himself in mad circles beneath your visitor, yapping and leaping upwards at him, snapping. His antics are promptly ignored by the both of you. The bird has returned to its perch high in the tree, watching the scene, head cocked.

“Good morning!” you reply, looking up at the newcomer with a vaguely incredulous expression. “Good early morning!”

“Ah, is it too early?” Jin asks, shaking his head to the side. “Sorry. I was just excited to pay you back.” He smiles, soft lips pulling upwards, eyes sparkling. “I really appreciated your hard work yesterday.” 

“No, no! You’re fine!” You rush to make sure he doesn’t think you’re sending him home straightaway. Your chest glows with his praise, and you can feel your cheeks flushing. “No, it’s alright! I only just woke up. If you just give me a minute to change…”

“Of course.” 

“I’ll be right back out.”

“I’ll be here.”

You hop back inside, clutching your tea and heading quickly to your room. You throw some clothes on—something you won’t mind ripping or getting dirty, and drink the rest of your tea, setting the empty mug on the counter for later cleaning. After a moment’s thought, you grab the small bag with the cat’s totem and slip it around your neck, rubbing at it to again smell that lovely combination of wood and cinnamon. You hide it under your shirt collar as a precaution. Just in case. As you approach the front door, you can hear Jin speaking in a low tone. Is he...is he talking to Taehyung? You push the door open, craning around the side to find him leaning over the gate, his brows arched, lips pursed, as he argues quietly with your dog. Taehyung, for all purposes, appears to be listening intently, legs in a defensive stance, small body completely still as he stares down the man.

“—know to begin with that it was her ,” Jin continues, blinking. “But it’s too late now.”

You hesitate in the doorway, amused, as Taehyung yaps once under his breath, bouncing backwards a little. Jin isn’t just talking to Taehyung, it’s like they’re having a conversation . It’s...adorable. You don’t want to interrupt.

And then Jin’s expression smoothes into something unreadable. “No,” he says, his voice dipping into silk as he stretches upwards, eyeing the small dog beneath him with an air of almost disdain. It gives you chills, raises the hair on the back of your neck for reasons you don’t understand, to watch him curl his long fingers over the fence and return the animal’s gaze so coolly. You aren’t sure what it is, but he almost looks different. Taller, older, more intimidating. “No. I don’t think I will. I—” He glances up and meets your eye. He blinks again, surprise crossing his face, and whatever shadow that was creeping over him evaporates. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” you laugh, closing the door behind you as Taehyung revs back up into a volley of barks. “What were you two chatting about?” 

Jin scoffs, throwing his head back playfully. “We were arguing over you!” 

“Me?” You’re giggling anew, raising an eyebrow as you step forward and reach to collect Taehyung. You’ll put him outside the gate as you let Jin in—that way, there’ll be no potential mauling of trouser legs. He tries to duck from your grasp, but can’t run far with the fence in the way. As you lift him to your hip he tries to lunge for Jin, but you tuck him closer into you with one arm.

“He doesn’t want me to come in.” 

“That sounds like him,” you reply, “but it’s ridiculous. Of course you’re welcome here.”

“He disagrees.” 

“Seokjin,” you intone, teasingly formal. “You most certainly can come in.”

The ball of fluff in your arms breaks into a howl, ears flattened on the top of his head. You roll your eyes and you open the gate for Jin, inclining your neck to welcome him inside. He hesitates for a moment, looking to the gate itself and then at the restrained animal struggling against your grasp, before stepping inwards and immediately relaxing into a broad, warm smile. 

“Well, good,” he returns. “How else could I hold up my end of our bargain?”

“Indeed.” 

Taehyung jerks violently when you move to put him on the other side of the fence, his legs splaying as if that could keep him on the side with you. When you place him down gently, he whimpers, starting up a forlorn cry as he spins to face you with a doggy expression of heartbreak. There’s a flash of pink and a flutter of wings dashing past you as the bird alights from its branch to land beside him, peeping and chirping brightly. He only snuffles, miserable, searching your eyes for understanding as he melts into a dejected fluff pile on the grass. 

“You can’t just attack my guests,” you retort, turning back to Jin, who smiles all the wider at you. The new light looks good on him, the purple haze not quite faded from the air, drawing out the softness of his face and the shimmer of his eyes. 

“So!” he says, clapping his hands together once with an air of finality. “This famous shed. Where is it?” 

“It’s this way,” you reply, moving to lead him out towards the back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Taehyung perk up and trot to follow you in-step around the perimeter of the fence. 

You and Jin immediately get to work taking things out of the shed, organizing and cleaning up the shelves and spaces in between. There’s dust everywhere, cobwebs; you doubt your granny could have cleaned it by herself, so it only makes sense that it’s been a while. Boxes of beautiful, old china, tubs of decorations, some gardening supplies...Most of it is stuff you can repurpose and use. Jin cracks jokes every so often, awful, awful Dad-jokes that have you laughing just because of how bad they are, but he lights up when you do enough that you don’t try too hard to resist him. Again, he listens to you intently as you speak, talking all about your life before this town. It’s quiet but for the two of you, laboring in the fresh sun. You half expect Taehyung to spend the entire time screaming, but instead he only lays there, occasionally whining, ears flitting forward whenever your eyes meet. 

You’re on the last trash bag when you realize that one of the containers has a book inside. A scrapbook, from the looks of it. It cracks open easily, with a thick puff of layered dust, and you retrieve the book with all the gentleness of handling a child, shifting to sit down for a moment on a large cobblestone. Jin follows suit curiously, head cocked, kneeling beside you and turning away from his work wiping down plastic tubs. 

“Oh wow,” you breathe as you open it, immediately recognizing the young woman in the photographs. “Granny’s old pictures.”

“She was beautiful,” Jin says softly from behind you.

“She was,” you reply with a smile. She smiles back at you from age-worn pictures—her clothes dated but her face bright and youthful, a sunny grin like she’d never known sadness. 

You keep turning the pages, taking you on a journey through her life, where she lived before here, the people she knew and loved, long buried now. Love and recognition rises in you when you come to her wedding. It wasn’t a big wedding, not too many people, sparsely populated around a new shiny bridge, crowned by the weeping willow, everyone cheering as she and her husband stand there, eyes locked and so deeply, deeply in love that it makes your own heart ache. 

Your eye is drawn to a figure standing to the side. 

He’s clapping politely, a small smile pulling one edge of his plump lips upwards, his eyes shining. Raven hair, dark even for a black and white photograph. You blink, your grin fading into confusion. 

“Jin?” 

“Hmm.” 

You crane over your shoulder at him, perplexed. “Jin, that looks exactly like you.” 

“Yes,” he says, low, eyes glued to the photo. “Yes, it does.”

“Weird,” you shake your head with a laugh, “I mean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were there! Wow, that would make you....over seventy years old. At least.” You laugh again. “That’s so amazing. Is that your dad, then?”

He hums again, noncommittal, shifting a little behind you. 

You try to peer closer, staring into the beautiful man’s eyes, this man who looks so much like Jin, but there’s a strange blur that prevents you from seeing him as clearly as the other people in the picture. Just over his shoulder, at his back, you recognize a white smudge—like feathers—rising from behind him. A swan, most likely. Must have been landing on the water behind him just as the photo was taken…

“Everyone in this town has so much history,” you murmur, feeling a strange pang of almost jealousy. “So many stories that intertwine like this. I wish I had something like that.”   

Jin moves, and you feel his hand drift over your side, to the hand you’ve placed on the book. “You’re in this town now,” he points out, gentle. His long fingers caress yours, curling to hold your hand in his. He’s warm against you, and you can smell the faint smell of lillies. His cologne? It’s so gentle, though. “Our stories are already intertwining.” 

“Thanks, Jin,” you reply after an awkward beat. You extricate your fingers from his to turn the page again, flushing. “I like to think that I’m working on it.” 

You skip a few pages, furiously trying to will the heat away from your cheeks. He turns back to his cloth and his bins, as you try to process the atmosphere that grew between the two of you in that instant. 

You don’t have long to think about it uninterrupted. There’s a rustling on the other side of the fence, and you look up just in time to catch Jungkook’s inquisitive, sleek face peering out from the leaves at you. You smile at him before Taehyung suddenly springs up with a shriek, all four legs leaving the floor at the same time, rocketing towards the rabbit with all the force of his pent-up frustration. Together, they disappear into the underbrush, crashing all the way, Tae baying anew, the bird following the chase on swift, silent wings. You chuckle softly, rolling your eyes. On the one hand, you might be able to spend the rest of your afternoon without listening to him whine but on the other...now you’re left completely alone with a gorgeous gentleman who’s only real flaw so far seems to be taking conversations with your dog too seriously. Who might be flirting with you? It’s hard to tell with these things.

You turn the page again, and this time you’re greeted with a familiar face and a trinket that leaves an indent in the aged pages. Beaming out at you with a grin that’s missing teeth, hair mussed from some run through the woods no doubt. A small you , flecked with dirt and clutching a stuffed animal to your chest tightly, as though no army in the world could wrest it from you. Wait. 

You look closer, confused. That’s not a stuffed animal. It’s a dog. Small, fluffy, round, with eyes slightly askew and tongue lolling happily. It looks just like Taehyung. Did you have a dog?...it would explain why you feel so comfortable with Taehyung. It makes sense. Still, it’s strange to you, this idea that not once, but twice , you’ve come across the ancestors of people and animals you’ve met recently. And that your granny has pictures of them.

It’s a small town, you try to reason, feeling a chill creep up your neck. There isn’t going to be much in the way of diversity —not when it’s remained largely unchanged for who knows how long. You try to distract yourself with the item pressed into the book, despite the feeling curling in your gut of missing something, of not seeing something important . It’s a bracelet. Childish in style, but professional in make, in the skillful way the knots are threaded just so precisely. Faded red thread, woven into an adjustable clasp. You turn it with a finger, brushing the thread surrounding the centerpiece. A tiny bell that still rings faintly when you jostle it and a small pearl. It’s teardrop-shaped, and through the gaps, you can see the antique silver that once cradled it to some sort of fixture. A bead? Strange. You slip a fingertip over the smooth surface, and a second heartbeat suddenly thumps through your arm, in your chest for a minute, two, making your head spin, stealing your breath. Your senses flood, the rays from the sun climbing the sky glowing so brightly, you can barely make out the shapes around you, and you smell honey on the breeze. 

“Did you hear me?” 

You blink, turning slightly to look at Jin, who’s crouched by his pile of conquered bins, looking back at you with a curious look. The warm yellow of the sunlight cards chocolate through his hair, sets patches of his skin alight. You can see him just fine.

“Uh,” you manage. What was going on? You don’t recall what gave you pause. Not anything more than a general feeling, a snatch of a moment in time. Something from a dream, surely. Some memory pulling you out with the tide. You don’t know. “No, sorry.”

“Is there an order you wanted these back in the shed?” he repeats. “I mean, for ease of access.”

“N-no.” You hesitate, taking a breath. “Um, actually, Jin?”

He smiles. “Yes?”

“I-I’m out of garbage bags.” His face falls slightly. “I was just going to go get some more, but...I mean, most of the shed is done now.”

“...you want to take a break?”

“I think it’s a good stopping point for today.”

“Ah.” He pauses, looking away from you to study the pile beside him. You turn back to the page, realizing with faint shock that at some point, you put the bracelet on and fastened it around your wrist without even knowing. But of course you did. That’s where it belongs. It feels good. It feels...right. You look again at the child in the picture. She’s wearing the same bracelet. 

You notice another blur. Another smudge. Behind her. Like smoke, unfocused, a play of the dappled light forming a crouching form in an unsteady photographic development. A long, dark sweater made of shadows and flowers, jeans made of some light flare, what would make his face out of frame but for a trace of a wide, boxy grin of a distant reflection. 

“I’m going to go see Namjoon,” you say finally, closing the book before you give yourself a migraine looking so hard at things you don’t understand. 

Jin stands as you do, poorly hiding obvious disappointment. You raise your wrist appraisingly, trying to brighten his reaction by reminding him what the point of all this was. 

“What do you think?”

“What do I think of what?”

“This bracelet.” You jiggle it once, watching the pearl catch the light and hearing the soft chime of the bell with another flush of familiarity. “Do you think it’ll be enough for the book?” 

Jin watches you for a moment in silence, deadpan. “...What bracelet?” 

You scoff. “Don’t be like that. I’ll see you…?”

“Tomorrow,” he puts in quickly, invisible bracelet immediately forgotten. “Tomorrow. The pond isn’t finished.”

“That’s fine! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He pauses again, but finally nods and smiles, though you can tell he’s still turning things around in his head. 

“I like being with you,” he adds. “I like this. I want…” He reaches for your hand again, but thinks better of it, returning awkwardly to his side with a sigh. “I want to keep seeing you after the deal is fulfilled.”

“Jin, we live in this tiny town together,” you remind him with a faint chuckle. “We aren’t going to be able to get away from each other.” 

He doesn’t smile back. He looks...earnest. “I hope so.”

The two of you make your way to the front of the house again, and you close the gate behind as you stride through it. You walk in the direction of the library with him trailing behind you, in a strange kind of silence. You can’t but feel like you’ve hurt his feelings, somehow. That you’ve put him on edge. You don’t know why. What you could have done. You take another look at the bracelet ringing your wrist, raising it to the dappled light streaming through the trees on either side of the road.

There’s a lot you don’t know, you think. 

You turn the corner, coming into view of the signpost and immediately recognize that there’s a young man standing there. His shoulders are hunched, his blue hoodie bulking up a slim frame. His hair is black, but the light catches off strands dyed a fashionable, subtle blue. When he looks up, you meet catlike eyes, swiped down at the edges and impossibly dark. He maintains eye contact a little too long and you cock your head as you walk towards him, aiming down the street to his left. 

“Can I help you?”

“I was thinking more like I could help you,” he replies in a terse drawl. His voice is a lot deeper than you would have thought, gravelly and thick. He peers at you, scrunches his nose. “You’re really making me nervous, you know.”

That catches you slightly off guard. Your steps falter. You throw a glance behind yourself for help from Jin, but the taller man has seemingly disappeared, melted into the trees around you. “I-I don’t know what you mea—”

You jump backwards when you turn and the new arrival is much closer than he had been, eyes searching yours. He’s well within a couple feet of you, despite having made no noise on his approach.

“The longer you have it, the less convenient for everyone,” he adds in a deep rumble, pulling it past a pout. You can smell cinnamon on his breath, like he’s been eating cinnamon sugar pastries. “If you’re not going to use it, give it back.” 

Are you being mugged? Your brain is short-circuiting and you can only balk at him, eyes wide. You can’t get a read on him at all, you don’t understand what he wants or why he’s threatening you. ‘It’? What is ‘it’? What is he talking about? What do you have?

The next second happens in fast-forward, in a space that takes half as long as usual. The man’s half-gloved hand suddenly reaches forward, towards your neck, and without thinking, your own hand shoots upwards, trying to bat it away with a flash of panic, the bell at your wrist now loud, clear, ringing in your ears, and you wish Taehyung was here. 

A force from behind you, an arm from over your shoulder, grabs ahold of the dark-haired man’s wrist, shoving it back towards him, and for a moment, you think gratefully of Jin, until he speaks. 

“Don’t touch her.” That’s not Jin. Jin’s voice isn’t so deep, so low in his chest. You can almost feel him talking through your back. The other man takes two or three reluctant steps backwards, his hand lowering to slip back into his jacket pocket. 

“I was just—” he starts reproachfully, almost hurt. 

 “Don’t touch her.” Your savior repeats, dark, and you feel him shift to angle his body in front of you, protective, moving into view as he does so. He’s tall. Broad-shouldered. He’s wearing a blue and black sweater that hangs over his arms, and a winter hat that clashes with the grim, warning tone of his voice. The other man’s eyes flit from him back to you. He blinks, lazy, before sniffing once, shifting his shoulders. He turns on his heel and avoids your gaze as he begins stalking down the path towards Jin’s pond. You stand, frozen, watching him go, all senses now honed on the guy in front of you. You watch the black hair disappear down the road, swallowed by the trees. A beat passes. Two. 

The tall man suddenly whirls around, and you’re shocked to find that he’s grinning so wide your cheeks ache in sympathy. Before you can react, he’s lunged forwards, gathering you in an all-encompassing hug, pulling you close and intimate to his chest, burying his cheek into your hair with a deep almost-sob noise. You catch a whiff of honey as you remain frozen, eyes wide, limbs stiff. He’s warm around you, long arms holding you like he never wants to let go, but still so gentle.

“I knew you’d find it,” he’s babbling through sobs. “I knew you’d find me. I knew I’d find you.”

He leans back, wide hands sliding to your shoulders, to survey you with eyes squinted hard as he half laughs, half cries, threatening at any moment to spill over into tears. “Ah, look at you. I’ve waited so long to do this.” 

He hugs you again, tight and tender, and this time you finally snap out of it. You struggle, worming out of his grasp, trying to find your footing enough to take a few steps away from him, staring at him in bewilderment as you part. His face immediately starts falling, though he lets you go easily enough. His arms are still holding air as he gapes at you, mouth open, looking more confused than anything.

“Th-thanks for your help,” you manage to stutter out. “But I need to—”

“You don’t remember me?” he interrupts, eyes going wide. He looks at you like his heart is breaking. He steps forward, and you take an instinctive step back, and he immediately reverses back as you’d stung him, his expression shattering. “But I—I’m your—”

“I don’t think you mean me any harm, and I’m glad you were here to protect me from that other guy,” you amend hastily, holding your arms out at him, placating, “But just...just stay away from me. Okay?” 

He only watches you, crestfallen. 

“Stay away from me.” You repeat, your bracelet jingling faintly when you gesture again. You take another step back. He doesn’t move. You turn, looking towards where the road to the library is. Actually, on second thought, you aren’t sure you should leave him any kind of loophole. The people in this town are weird, and used to dealing with faeries. You whirl around.

“And don’t follo—” you begin, but pull up short when you realize he’s gone. A breeze casts through in his place, the faintest whiff of honey before it dissolves into trees and green and sunshine. Even the birds keep silent for a moment.

You’re alone.

Chapter Text

The library is cool when you step inside, the breeze and the birds muted, lending to this veil of stillness that drapes over everything like a gossamer sheet. Enough to quiet without suffocating. Enough to mute without obscuring. It’s so peaceful in here, like it’s been untouched by the years and will remain for years to come. You take in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of polished wood, dust, and old tomes, your hand drifting to worry at the faded thread wrapped around your wrist. The bell on the bracelet clinks faintly, clear and bright, when you jostle it. Were you too harsh on that boy outside? As if he could be standing just past the doors, you turn, casting a glance at the entrance, recalling the way he held you. It was...kind of nice, you have to admit. The familiarity, the strength—protective. Protective…

‘You don’t remember me?...but I’m your—’

Your thumb slips in your worrying, and you brush the pearl wrapped in the center again. Something deep inside your chest aches suddenly, like a second heartbeat beating just beside you. Strong and insistent. Real. You’re missing something. Someone.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind of these feelings and half-remembered things like cobwebs. You turn to ring the bell, but Namjoon is already standing there, leaning casually against the desk as he surveys you with a vaguely worried look. You don’t know how you missed him, walking in, but that seems to be a running theme with these people.

“...Are you okay?” he asks finally, breaking the silence. 

“I’m okay.” After a beat, you manage to reply, trying to gather your heartbeat from his sudden appearance. When you move to step forward into the light streaming from the topmost window, he doesn’t move away from you, only craning his head to better meet your eye. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I just...yeah. Weird people in this town.” 

He snorts. “What do you mean?”

“A-a guy outside. Reached for me.” 

His face immediately drops. “What? Who?”

“No, no, I—looking back on it I’m not even sure he meant anything by it. I just...Forget it.”

He shifts, straightening, his lips curving into a frown as he furrows his brows out at the doors behind you. “What did he look like?” 

You have to stifle a laugh at how suddenly he’s ready to step to the plate in your name. Though the two of you have only spoken a couple times, and almost always ending with you frustrated at his mysterious act...there’s something friendly about being in his presence. Comfortable, like you’ve known each other for a very long time. There’s a lot in this town that feels that way.

“It’s fine, Namjoon. I promise I’m fine.” 

He stills, looking at you peculiarly, brows raising. “...I didn’t tell you my name.” he says, quiet.

“No, no. Um. Jin mentioned you. We’ve been helping each other out.”

“Oh.” 

A cloying silence threatens to settle between you and you have to break it before it becomes awkward.

“Yeah. A-anyways, I have something to trade,” you turn the conversation back on-course. “Something of value, for the book. Just like you said.”

Namjoon perks up noticeably at that, eyes bright when they flit to meet yours past lavender hair. He straightens, crossing his arms across his chest and shuffling his weight to the other foot, like he’s trying to be nonchalant despite obvious intrigue. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding once with a soft smile. “Okay, let’s see it.”

The bracelet jingles when you hold it up, demonstrative, feeling at least a little bit proud of yourself for solving his silly riddle. His gaze is blank when he looks to your arm so you point helpfully at your wrist. 

“I found this while Jin and I were cleaning my grandmother’s shed. It was mine when I was young. It meant a lot to me. It still does.” ...What did you just say? It was too easy, how that slipped from your lips, but now that you’ve said it, you find that it’s true. There’s an attachment that you can’t quite explain, even to yourself. You hesitate, struggling to put the feeling into words. “It...it’s important.”

He doesn’t speak. Your companion has frozen so completely that you have to crane a little ways to the side, watching his eyes follow you, before you can determine that he hasn’t just...stopped working. 

“Hello? Namj—”

“What is it?” he asks, quiet. Almost fearful. “Describe it to me.”

You frown. “What do you mean, describe it? It’s...look at it.” You shake your arm in his direction, appalled when he jerks backwards like you’re waving a weapon in his face, his expression wary.

“Humor me,” he breathes, looking back to you. “Just humor me for a minute.” 

“...It’s a little bracelet,” you begin, slow, eyeing him carefully. What has him so worked up?... “Tied with thick thread. There’s a bell and a pearl in the center of it.”

“What color is the thread?”

You blink at him. “...red…?”

A sigh, deep, heavy, leaves his lips and he slumps against the counter like a marionette with its strings cut, his hands coming up to thread through his own hair, hiding the upper part of his face, and you realize his fingers are shaking. You pause, scooting forward just a little to peer at him better. His mouth is pulled into a taut line, his brow furrowed.

“Namjoon?” 

“I..I can’t believe...” He sounds shaken. Worried; and you can’t for the life of you understand why. “…who...” His head shoots up before you have the chance to speak again. “When you were here last. You mentioned a dog was following you. What kind of dog?”

You try to think of dog breeds, but it’s difficult with the whiplash you’re getting from this strange conversation. “...fluffy? Small?” 

“Okay. Okay.” Namjoon takes several deep, calming breaths, sliding off the counter to begin pacing in front of it with long strides, his chin in his hand. “Okay.”

You allow him a few beats of quiet, waiting patiently for an explanation or perhaps another barrage of questions, but he’s so caught up in whatever thought process is currently possessing him that instead the library returns to its diligent silence. 

You clear your throat, tracking his anxious path back and forth. “...So?” 

“So?” he echoes, absent.

“So is that good enough? For the book?” 

“The book,” he repeats again, halting. He looks upset. Deeply upset. When he turns again, he steps to face you in two long strides, watching you carefully to see if you’ll pull away. You don’t. “I...you can’t...”

“You said,” you begin pointedly. “You said you would trade it for something that has value. This has value.Are you going back on your word?”

Something dark briefly flashes in his eyes and he shakes his head, sharp. “No. I am not.” He pauses again, takes a deep breath through his nose as he studies some indeterminate point to your left. His gaze flits back to you. “What I said was that I would trade it for something with equal importance to you as this book has to me.” 

“Yes.”

“That...bracelet...does not have equal importance to you.”

“You—” you bristle.

“Not to you,” Namjoon interrupts. He reaches out an unsteady hand, palm-up, taking another half-step closer, the closest you’ve ever been to him. From here, you can see the threads in his sweater, making up the bright, colorful patterns. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he moves and briefly, you reel at the strangely familiar scent. Bright, clean. Like a breeze from a mountain, untainted and free. At first you don’t move, but your senses return to you after a beat and, eventually, you press your hand into his. His palm is wide enough, long enough, to dwarf your own, warm and shockingly soft against your skin. When he flips your hand so that your wrist faces up, it’s with a delicate, feather-light touch. You’re spellbound, watching his thumb caress down your palm briefly, halting just where the bracelet begins. He sighs again, eye trained on your wrist, his expression turning almost determined. He blinks, looking back to you with the faintest of smiles, his other hand coming up as he folds your fingers over your own palm, like he’s entrusting something heavy to you, pressing your hand in gently. 

“I believe you. When you say you don’t remember. So I don’t think this is your fault,” he says, low, “But...promise me you won’t use it.”

“Use...use what?” 

“The book.” 

You frown at him doubtfully. “All this work for a book I can’t read…?”

“You can read it,” he clarifies hastily. “You can read it, and learn from it. I would encourage you to learn from it. But there are...there are things in there… things written, knowledge that could be used…”

“Used?” What the hell is he talking about??

“I can’t make you swear to anything,” he adds, his shoulders dropping. “But please. Just promise me you won’t use it.” 

You don’t get it. You don’t understand the significance. But he’s being so earnest, so incredibly heartfelt that you find yourself nodding along. “...Okay...I won’t use the book.”

He copies you, once, closing his eyes. When he opens them, he straightens, releasing your hand. As you draw it back into yourself, you find yourself missing his warmth, the softness of his hand.

“The...the bracelet,” he stumbles faintly over the word. “The importance isn’t yours. I believe you, that you cherish it, but it isn’t yours. Not entirely. Not all of it.”

Your mouth opens to interrupt, confused questions threatening to spill from your tongue, but he continues quickly. “I’ll accept it as collateral when you return what doesn’t belong to you.”

“What part of it doesn’t belong to me?” you balk.

“When you know the answer to that, then I know you can be trusted.” he explains, without explaining, eyes flickering. “It’s perfect. If Taehyung trusts you, so can I.” 

“T-Taehyung. The dog.” 

“Give what’s his back to him,” Namjoon nods, like he’s proud of himself. “Then I can trust you not to use the book.” 

“I’m going to give Taehyung—the dog—my childhood bracelet.” You clarify, slow, staring at him like he’s gone insane. “And then the shady librarian will give me a book that I promised I wouldn’t use. Namjoon, this all sounds crazy.”

He grins, leaning forward to grasp your shoulders, gentle and encouraging. When he beams like this, dimples carve themselves out of the sides of his cheeks, his eyes sparkling with latent mischief. 

“I believe in you.” 

You stare at him, but he only smiles wider, hands squeezing you gently.

You blink. 

He’s gone. 

You whirl around, jumping out of your skin, but the library is empty. You’re alone, standing in the light filtering through the topmost window, watching the shapes of dust trail through the golden air like small creatures of yore. 

“Namjoon?” you call, but there’s no answer. You blink again, staring at your hands. Your bracelet is still there, the bell still ringing plaintively when you wriggle your wrist. Did you imagine him?...

No. No, you couldn’t have. 

You wait for some kind of sign, in the stillness. A sign that he was real, or one that this is a dream. That you’re going crazy? But nothing else happens. Eventually, you decide to exit the library. 

So...okay. First thing’s first, then. You have to find Taehyung. Maybe wrap the bracelet around his paw? He’s small enough and the clasp is adjustable enough, you could probably slip it around his neck like a collar. It shouldn’t be hard to find him anyway—it’s been impossible to get rid of him since you met. And yet, when you step outside, into the fresh air and warm sunlight, you’re vaguely surprised to find that there’s no fluff ball sitting patiently at the steps. You cast a look to one of the lion statues protecting the entrance.

“Last I saw him, he was chasing that rabbit. Jungkook,” you correct yourself quickly. “So maybe he’s at home? What do you think?”

The lion offers no comment. You caress one of its paws anyway, feeling the sensation of heated stone under your palm. You think of the dark-haired boy and the lighter-haired boy you saw earlier, but even as you keep an eye out, you don’t see either of them on the way home.

To your further shock, there’s no shape pacing in front of your garden gate, either. No tiny madman announcing your approach with a howl. Your heart sinks a little. He’s alright, right? He hasn’t been hurt? You can’t imagine anyone in this town wishing any harm, not to something so small. You pause at your gate, frowning, and go to turn away, but a flash of brown on the inside of the garden, dashing to the side of the house, catches your attention and immediately your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Taetae!” you shout, grinning as you throw the gate aside and jump inside, running to catch up. The flowers in your path crunch under your feet, the dried soil hard and unforgiving against the soles of your feet. “Hey, buddy, wait up! Namjoon says I ha—” 

You round the corner, pulling up short when you realize you’ve lost sight of him. Seeing things again…? No. No, that can’t— 

Movement, again, a twitch of brown, and suddenly there’s something clambering up the side of the iron fence with nimble little fingers. It isn’t Taehyung. It’s a squirrel. Small, oddly sleek and soft-looking for a wild animal, its eyes are wide yet strangely intelligent as it regards you. 

“Squirrel.” you say. It doesn’t reply. Looking at it, you’re suddenly made aware of the state of your garden around you. It’s appalling. Seemingly since this morning, the flowers have begun shriveling in earnest, a dried brown claiming them from the stems and reaching down into the roots. Even the ground beneath you is becoming dusty, harsh and unforgiving to life. Your steps haven’t even made prints in the soil. The squirrel watches you with a steady gaze.

“Squirrel.” you say again, realization striking you dumb. The kepry under the stairs. The candy. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” you finally sputter, ducking your head in a bow before you even realize you’re doing it. “I completely forgot! But I bought candy for you, I swear! To replace the ones I took out. I’ll be right back.”

The creature gives no indication that it understands, or cares, but instead of bolting when you move to go back through the house, it only watches you steadily. No real squirrel would sit so still, so patiently, you’re sure.

You retrieve a handful of candy from the bag in the cupboard, making sure there’s enough to pass to the gardener, whenever he turns up, and head back outside. The squirrel hasn’t moved, and doesn’t move, even when you have to walk past it to the stairs around the back. You kneel on the ground, making quick work of the shoddy cover you’d put over the hole. It takes a few minutes to pull out all of the cotton and slip the candy inside piece by piece, tucking the discarded tape and cotton into your pocket to throw away later. 

Satisfied, you go to get up, jolting when you realize that the squirrel has scampered down from its perch on the fence closer to you, all the way down to the grass, alighting into your lap with all the deftness of a family pet. It’s light, but solid, heavier than you might think. You freeze, holding your breath as it pads across your thighs, inspecting the hole with a twitch of its whiskers, a crane of its tiny head. Its bushy tail waves in front of your face and you have to tamper the desire to pet it. Delicate little paws shaped like hands reach into the hole, grasping one of the candies and pulling it into its body with a curious look. Round and round it shuffles the sweet, eyeing it this way and that, before sliding it back into place with a peculiar chirp sound. It turns to you, straightening, whiskers twitching, and you’re spellbound in its wide, dark eyes. Slowly, deliberate, it leans forward in a bow. Automatically, your body is moving to replicate it as much as you can without dislodging it from its perch. It chirps again, almost a cheerful bark, suddenly dashing up your arm, round your shoulder, to the other side, clutching at your shirt fabric easily with tiny claws, and as it goes, brushing your nose with its tail, you can smell lavender, like its been rolling in it. Briefly, it nuzzles into your cheek and you can’t help but laugh a little. You’re aware of the sound of birds in the distance, the wind rustling through the trees, the sun warming your skin, and the scent of fresh lavender. 

“I’m glad you like them,” you say after a moment. When you go to stand, careful, the squirrels precise little claws dig a little deeper into your shirt, small body wavering to keep balance, though it doesn’t move to jump off of you. “I’m sorry for taking them out to begin with. I hope this makes us even.”

It chirps again, louder for being so close, and you burst into a fit of laughter when it snuffles against your ear, ticklish instinct moving your shoulder, but it leaps off you quickly, before you can squash its small body against your temple. It lands precisely near a patch of tulips. You rub at your ear absently, watching as it flicks its tail at you and suddenly scurries off, dashing again around the front of the house. You take a step to give chase, but hesitate when you’re distracted by a flash of color against the ground. Leaning forward, you brush a hand against the fading tulips to move them out of the way. A patch of grass, standing out against its dying kin for its bright, emerald color. You don’t remember seeing that before. 

Unbidden, Namjoon’s words rise in your head, all the way back from when you first spoke to him. 

‘I bet there was something in the house really well taken-care of when you got here.’ 

Granny’s garden. Of course. Granny was so old, she couldn’t have possibly gotten on her knees to tend this garden as often as would have given her the beautiful paradise you always remembered. Her hands shook so violently, how could she have pulled the weeds and watered the plants like they needed? And even after her death, it was beautiful. 

Until you took the candy. Then, the plants started dying. It all makes sense...

But wait. Then what about the man claiming to be her gardener? 

“You seem like a nice person.” You don’t have time to be confused, as a new voice pulls you from your musings and you look up to find a young man standing at your fence. His hair is a soft almond color, his eyes wide like a doe’s, as he stares at you with the slightest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. 

“...Thank you,” you reply finally, realizing a beat too late that you’re still smiling, trying to smooth it into something less creepy. He doesn’t seem to notice, his own smile growing, prominently showing his front teeth. 

“I didn’t get the chance to say that before,” he adds, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jacket and swaying a little. 

“Before?” You repeat, straightening. “Have we met?” 

“Sort of. You’re usually…” his head cocks briefly, pausing in his rocking to cast a thoughtful glance upwards. “...protected pretty closely.” 

“You mean Taehyung?”

“Yeah.” 

“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” you’re immediately defending the small animal, brushing the dirt off your knees. “He’s just…”

“Persistent.” 

You laugh a little at that. He sounds almost personally attacked by the tiny dog. “Are you afraid of dogs?”

“No,” he replies quickly, nose scrunching though he’s still grinning. “I’m not afraid of him, either.” 

“Well. You’re in luck, I guess.” You sober a little with a faint sigh. “I can’t seem to find him.” 

He hums, but quickly starts another conversation, seemingly uninterested with offering to help. “How did you get Yoongi’s totem?”

“Yoongi?” You blink, but your hand automatically flies to the small bag around your neck, wrapping your fingers around it and inhaling the slight scent of cinnamon. “Is that...the cat’s name?”

“He doesn’t just give those out, you know,” the young man says instead of answering. He moves to lean against your fence, and you catch a glimpse of his bright red sneakers when he bounces forward. He cradles his cheek in one long palm, watching you closely. “I’m curious.” 

“I took him into the house when it was raining the other day. Fed him, gave him a bed.” 

The youth grins wider. “I knew you were a nice person.”

“I...I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“Or me.” 

“Sorry?”

“I like you. I’ve decided.” He declares with a soft giggle, his nose scrunching again. “I want to pay you back.” You can’t help but smile with him, though you’re not sure what he means by that. 

“Oh. Okay? Thank you?” 

“Taehyung likes Eunju and Sungmin a lot. Maybe you can find him by their store?” 

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open, your back straightening a little. “That’s a good idea! Thanks!” 

“Anytime,” he leans up off the railing and turns to start walking down the path. You start forward, suddenly worried that without your eye on him, he’ll disappear into nothing. 

“U-um!” 

He pauses, half-turning to raise his brows at you expectantly as you walk to the gate, unsure hands curling over the bars. 

“Do...do you want to come with?” you ask, hesitant. You’re not sure why, but you don’t...want him to leave. Just yet.

His grin grows wider. “I’d love to! Actually,” he cranes towards you, his expression conspiratorial. “Let’s make it a game.”

“A game?” you echo, stepping out of the gate and latching it behind yourself. 

“I’ll race you there.” 

You aren’t blind. You can see the toned muscles in his legs, bared by his shorts, especially now with the hedges and fence out of the way. You snort. “I don’t think—” 

“Readysetgo!” he cackles, eyes wide, suddenly diving headfirst into a sprint. 

A scandalized noise leaves your throat as he cuts you off, but your body is already in motion, launching you forward, heart pumping, indignant laughter surging from your chest. The two of you race down the hill, and for a moment, you’re afraid of losing your footing on the incline, tripping, head over heels, but he’s pulled so far ahead of you that it sparks a playful frenzy in your heart, spurring you onwards, faster, faster. Your feet grow wings, sure and light as you throw yourself mindlessly into the chase, over the terrain, past the trees, into town, following the trail blazed in your sights by the young man’s jacket flaring out behind him, the glaring color of his shoes, something pulled from the depths of your soul that makes your cheeks hurt with how hard you’re grinning, wind whipping at your hair, legs pumping as you give it your all. The two of you bank so hard around the corner that you almost fall over, an exhilarated whoop leaving your chest as you struggle to regain your footing, watching him disappear around the bend, but you’re so close to catching him now, like you could just reach out— 

You round the corner, bursting free of the intersection to come face to face with the convenience store. Your feet skid to a halt, suddenly heaving deep, heady breaths as you bend at the middle, panting, gasping. Your legs burn, your sight swims, but you’re laughing past your inhales and exhales, feeling energy in every limb, every inch of your being. Even as sore as you are already, you feel alive. Indisputably alive, fully alive. There is light and fire burning inside of you and if you wanted to, you feel like you could run the whole way back up the hill. You take in another gulp of oxygen, casting a glance around you, feeling the urge to roll your eyes when you realize the young man is gone. Disappeared entirely. Besides annoyance, at the apparently inherent ability of everybody in this town to just vanish on will, you feel…

You feel disappointed, you realize after a beat. 

Disappointed that he didn’t stay. 

The day is starting to grow long, the sunshine turning golden, the shadows turning violet. You can feel the slight drop in temperature as it cools, preparing to tuck the sun beneath the horizon. Today has really gotten out from under you. You might have to call it a night soon... And then you must remember to go and help Jin in the morning...it’s not his fault that you keep getting sent on these wild goose chases by the possibly-a-ghost librarian. 

Your breathing has calmed enough that you can walk now, and though you know you’re sweating up a storm, you decide to go into the store. At least before you start to smell.  You don’t see Taehyung anywhere outside of it, but maybe they’ll have seen him inside. 

The bell above you is light when you open the door, the air inside just as fragrant as ever with fresh fruit and vegetables, cooled from being sheltered from direct sunshine. It’s Eunju, this time, manning the counter, who gives you a warm smile when she spots you. She moves to say something, starting to circle around the side of the counter to greet you, but is interrupted entirely when an even older woman shuffles out from underneath the blanket hiding the back of the store. She’s bent over, old age curving her spine, claiming her thinning hair and turning it shock-white. She wears a soft-looking cardigan that all but hides her bone-thin fingers, the glasses perched on the end of her dainty nose as thick as bottle bottoms. She’s clutching something close to her chest, and after a moment you recognize it as a bear, reared up on its hind paws, mouth open in a silent roar, carved out of stone. 

“For the front of the store, Eunju,” she croaks as she walks past, her voice dry as bone. 

“No, mother, now, we’ve discussed this,” Miss Eunju tries to step in, chastising, but the woman won’t be budged, clutching the figure more resolutely to herself with a sharp glare that almost makes you laugh despite yourself. She ducks Eunju’s attempt to herd her back into the back of the store, waddling forward with the determination of a much younger woman. 

“It’s an eyesore,” Eunju complains, trying not to chuckle as she reaches again for the item in question. “The neighborhood children don’t like them.” 

“I don’t care what you think of it,” the older lady rasps loudly, still hurtling towards you with all the speed you imagine she can muster, “There is mischief about Spirit Lights.” 

As she comes closer, you can make out her nails, painted a modest brown, the pearls hanging from her lobes, the subdued but fine quality of her cardigan. She looks like a woman with power, even now. Reserved, but not likely to take any kind of nonsense. You can see where Miss Eunju must get it from. 

“Good evening,” she greets you politely, and out of respect, you immediately move out of her path, convinced that otherwise she’d mow you down just as surely as the tide comes in, hiding your grin with a nod. 

“Good evening,” you reply, but you doubt she can hear you. She shuffles past you, to the outside of the store. 

Eunju comes to an exhausted halt just by your side, watching her mother with an expression of mild despair as she props her hands on her ample waist. 

“Bah!” she calls, but you can hear the fondness in it. “Stubborn old bat. Only time you can count on her moving so quickly is when she’s being spiteful.” She sighs, shaking her head, but turns back to you with a fond look. “Hello again. What can I help you with? Was the candy alright? How is your handsome little chaperone?” 

“The candy was perfect, thank you,” you reply. “And actually, I was wondering if you’d seen him. I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

“Oh,” she waves dismissively. “He’ll turn up. They always do, the rascals. I wouldn’t worry about it. This close to Spirit Lights, they always get a little squirrely.”

You blink. “...The strays?” 

“This town doesn’t have strays.” Her attention is quickly claimed by her mother appearing again, turning on her heel and trotting back in with the self-assured gait of a successful mission completed. “You know I’m going to take that back inside.”

“You do and I will put it right back where it belongs,” is her response. 

“They can’t come into private property, mother.”

“Well, you never know.”

“I do know! I have lived here nearly as long as you!” 

The older woman scoffs, waving an ancient hand as she scoots past. 

“There, now, see, Sungmin makes fun for my belief,” Eunju huffs, “but I am nothing compared to that absolute madwoman. Anyways.” She leans forward, putting a reassuring hand on your arm. “I’m sorry I haven’t seen your friend. But I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” She starts with a soft gasp of delight, looking suddenly at your arm. “Ah, your bracelet! I love that.”

“Thank you! I found it in my grandmother’s shed. I think it was mine when I was young,” you beam. She nods, patting you once with a knowing crook of her eyebrow. 

“You know what it reminds me of,” she says. “Here. It looks like this town to me. I’ve seen designs like that before. Good luck charms made for children.” She pats you again, her eyes squinting when her smile grows. “It suits you. This town suits you, I think.” 

She turns with an air of finality. “Now!” she adds, determined. “I’m going to take that heinous thing inside before it scares off my poor customers.” 

You giggle, watching her grab it and cart it back into the store. 

“Ever since that fiasco,” she huffs balefully. “She’s been working overtime to try and keep the spirits out. I swear she gets this manic light in her eyes...”

“Fiasco?” 

“Oh.” She pauses before resuming her trek, still chattering away, “I wouldn’t worry about it. Just some fearful business some time ago. Quite a few years ago now. Nothing came of it, anyhow, last I heard everyone was quite alright.” She turns as she walks to wag a finger at you. “Just don’t forget to be careful on Spirit Lights, that’s all. Some of the children don’t know any better, you know.” 

“I’ll be sure to be careful,” you reassure her. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Anytime you need anything, you know where to find us.” 

The trek back home feels long. Lonely. 

You perk up at the half-hearted hope that maybe Taehyung will greet you at the gate again, but slowly realize you’re on your own. As you get ready for bed, aching from your run, tired from the strange things that have happened to you during the day, you find yourself missing the little dog at your feet. The bed seems smaller and less inviting without him on it, and as you tuck in for the night, you heave your own world-weary sigh in his place. 

Even if you don’t figure out what Namjoon wants you to do, you hope you find him. It was nice to have a friend. 

You slip quickly, silently, into dreams made of velvet skies and starry lights.

Chapter Text

Water. Rushing water, in your ears, in your eyes, in your nose, and you can’t even tell which way is up. You can’t breathe, the river—it’s too fast. Warmth, strength, snakes around your midsection despite your flailing, and pulls.

You wake, disoriented, just as you breach the surface, still gasping. Sunlight sneaks through your curtains and paints the ceiling in bands of yellow above you. Your blankets, tossed in your restless, fitful sleep, circle your legs, and you have to shake them off to sit up. Your nightmare spins in your head as you sit and ground yourself to reality. It’s been a very long time since you dreamed of drowning...You shake your head. Best not to think about it any more than necessary. An old childhood fear, brought about by sleeping in your old childhood home. That’s all.  

You stretch, yawning. You’re listening absently to the distant birdsong outside, and that’s when you realize the birds aren’t the only ones making noise. A distinct voice is holding a one-sided conversation just outside your house. It occasionally breaks into a loud laugh or some odd sound effect, halting here and there for some answer that you can’t hear. You pause. Maybe whoever it is is only passing by? But no, the voice doesn’t move anywhere. The wood beneath your feet creaks traitorously when you slide to the window, sneaking a peek out the corner of it, to around the front where the voice is. From here, you can see very little, but for a shape that moves out of sight just as you spot it. 

Confused, you get dressed, and check your appearance in a nearby mirror. You aren’t going to be winning any awards, but you’d like to at least know what they’re doing out there. You make sure to slip the cat’s totem around your neck and check for the bracelet around your wrist. 

Moving to open your door, you brace yourself to put on a brave face. Maybe the locals are themselves getting ‘squirrely’ around Spirit Lights. It is tomorrow, after all. Your facade proves to be wholly unnecessary once you actually swing the front door open. Hoseok turns to beam at you cheerfully, pink and gray hair ruffled, his hands and knees covered in dirt. He’s cradling an uprooted tulip in his palms. For a moment, you go to protest, heart sinking at his demolition, but you pull up short once you realize he’s not destroying it. He’s replanting it; settling it at a more comfortable distance from its brethren, judging by the hole at his feet. Much of the garden has been likewise tended, the color seeping back into the plants and the dirt turning a dark, rich brown. It smells like fresh greenery, roots, and clean soil out here, the wafts of breeze bringing with them that distinct scent of blossoming lavender. You wonder that he was able to accomplish this much just in the time that you were sleeping in.

Behind the gardener, sitting atop your fence like it had been born on it, is the cat from the first night you spent here. You would recognize those eyes anywhere. It’s black pelt glimmers in the sunlight, turning almost blue in the warmth of its rays. Even as it lounges, watching Hoseok work with its paws tucked beneath itself, you are again given the impression that it knows and observes plenty. 

“Good morning!” Hoseok crows, his grin pushing dimples into his cheeks. “Did we wake you?”

“Um…” you look to the cat, a faint smile curving your lips at the familiar animal. You wave a little at it, wiggling your fingers. It blinks slow at you, turning its luminous eyes elsewhere. “Kind of. What are you doing here?”

“Gardening,” is Hoseok’s cheerful reply. 

“...right.” You aren’t sure you want to look the gift horse in the mouth, but is it odd that he just...showed up? Then again, that’s how you met him in the first place.

“Yoongi wanted to apologize.”

You blink at him, amused and baffled at once. Yoongi? Ah, you recall the brown-haired youth calling the cat by that name. Absently, your hand drifts to the bag around your neck, inhaling the faint smell of cinnamon. You level a stare at Hoseok. Has he been talking to...the cat? This whole time? If the cat really is Yoongi, and Namjoon and the young man are both right, then the cat is definitely a kepry—really, it’s not that surprising, then, that a local tradesman would be holding a conversation with him. He probably has to deal a lot with them. You wonder briefly if he’s ever met the kepry under your house.  

Probably, if they both are working on the garden. Considering the bright, sunny nature of the two of them, they probably would get along.

You pull out of your distant musings. “...The cat wants to apologize? What for?”

“He says he scared you on accident. Something about his totem? And Taehyung?” Hoseok shakes his head, laughing a little. “It’s always something between him and Tae, though, so I don’t know about that much.”

Right. The dog and the cat have a rivalry. That tracks. You raise your eyebrows. “Scared me?” you echo. You wrack your brain, throwing back to the last time you saw the cat. Scared you by disappearing, maybe. You really were concerned for its safety to begin with. But what does that have to do with Taehyung?

Hoseok shrugs, bending to place the tulip in its rightful place, patting the dirt around it with the ease of someone well-practiced in gardening, his face soothed into a gentle expression of focus. 

“He chickened out when he got here.” He throws a sly grin at the cat, who beholds him with incredible disdain. “I’m not apologizing for you.” 

Uh-huh. You watch Hoseok dig around in the dirt for a moment longer before realization careens about your head and crashes into the opposite side with almost an audible sound. 

“Payment!” you say, aloud. He blinks at you but you’re already turning to dash back inside, scrambling through the cupboards for the candy you had left. You rush back outside before either of them has even moved, presenting the half-empty bag of sweets to him. 

“I had to,” you start babbling, as he flicks his eyes comically between you and the bag, a surprised smirk creeping across his face, “I had to, use the rest for something else, someone else, there’s—” you quickly abandon the thought of trying to explain the kepry. If he knows, he knows, and if he doesn’t, you’ll only confuse him or make him think you’re crazy. “—but the—for the gardening, I can’t pay you much—”

“You already—” he starts, bemused, but you’ve already started and its very difficult to stop even as you’re becoming breathless, plowing forward. 

“—But I hope we can be friends anyways and I just wanted to say thank you for not ruining the garden,” you finish, having to draw in an embarrassingly deep inhale at the end.  

He breaks out into a full smile, teeth bared, and laughs, bending with the motion. He takes the bag from your hands gingerly and sets it on a clear patch of grass beside him without looking directly at it. 

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’ll put it with the rest.” 

“The garden looks beautiful, by the way.” 

Hoseok glances back up at you, obvious pride crossing his fine features as he stands, dusting his hands off on his pants leg. 

He practically glows, posing with his hands on his hips and surveying his hard work. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Between you and the spirits, this place is going to be the loveliest garden this side of Eden,” you add, half-joking, reaching to caress a nearby daisy, feeling the soft petals between your fingers like the kiss of sunshine across silk.

He pauses thoughtfully for a minute before shaking his head and giggling.

“Jin wasn’t kidding. You really are clueless, huh.”

Jin. You start with a gasp, turning to lock the front door and rushing past the gardener to the gate, swinging it open and throwing yourself through it. You almost forgot! How could you forget?? You’ve got to go and help Jin finish cleaning the pond today! You hope he isn’t too upset with your probable lateness... Your steps hesitate. You throw a quick glance over your shoulder. 

“...Are we...are we okay?” you ask after a moment, directing the question at the gardener. “Is the candy okay?”

“It’s all I wanted,” he replies, nodding reassuringly, eyes glinting with humor. “Thank you.”

“Good. And…” 

The cat, Yoongi, cranes to watch the ground a little ways from you, only momentarily looking up to meet your gaze. The gesture is definitely as close to repentant as you think you’ve ever seen a cat manage. You pause again, reaching to curl your fingers around the totem around your neck faintly. 

“...I...I forgive you. For scaring me. Thank you,” you add. “For the totem. I promise I’ll use it well.”

His head dips, pretending suddenly to be incredibly engrossed in stretching, bending to deftly clean his paw, but the cock of his ears tells you he isn’t not paying attention, nor is he entirely discontented. Hoseok bursts into another bright peal of laughter. 

You peer at him, a smile crossing your face. You wonder if keprys can purr. But even as you ponder that idea, now that you’re aware of your tardiness, it’s like there’s a clock counting down in your head, and every second passing is more disappointment from Jin. 

You start moving down the path, keeping an eye on the strange man tending your garden and the strange cat pretending not to watch you go before you turn and start to run. Maybe if you finish up with Jin fast enough, you can continue your search for the elusive little dog.

You’re reminded of the youth you met yesterday when the wind hits your hair, fresh and clean from the morning. The pound of your feet against gravel and stone and dirt. The quickening of your heartbeat in your throat, assuring that you are alive and well. The sunlight ahead bathes the trees in gold, dapples the ground beneath as you continue along, turning across the pathway and emerging at the bridge. You scour the clearing for your companion, catching your breath in heady gulps of sweet air that tastes like springtime. There, beneath the willow, on the opposite bank. He’s sitting against the trunk, head bowed and eyes closed. Guilt sinks into your chest at the thought that he fell asleep waiting for you. 

The bridge carries you over to his side of the water, and you gingerly navigate a way down the steep incline towards him. You have to brush the long, trailing tresses of the tree out of your face as you approach, peeling it apart like the lifting of a veil. Not for the first time, you’re struck both by his beauty and his timelessness. He looks like if you left him, he could sleep forever. A statue, carved out of the moon. But you reach forward, quickly wiping your sweaty palm against your trouser leg, and touch his shoulder. 

His dark eyelashes flutter and he blinks sleepily, casting a look up at you. 

“Hey, Jin.” You admit, “I don’t know what time it is. I’m sorry if I’m late.” 

The smile he gives you is radiant, warm, creases his eyes and softens his lips. 

“Not at all,” he returns. “You’re just in time.” 

You grin back, moving to crouch by him. “Good. Thanks. So where do we start today?” 

Jin’s mouth purses and his eyes flit to the bridge, hesitating. “Start?” he murmurs. “I don’t know...Maybe today we take a break?” 

“A break?” 

“Yes.” He shuffles, patting the dirt beside himself with another gentle smile. “Yes, why don’t you join me here? How was your day yesterday? Tell me about it.” 

You pause, considering. It sounds nice, just to hang out with Jin all day. And admittedly, you’ve been wanting for some real companionship. What with everyone around you disappearing into smoke. But on the other hand...you kind of want to find Taehyung. It’s not just a matter of the librarian anymore, really. You’re legitimately becoming concerned about the small dog’s wellbeing.

“Maybe later,” you reply. “I’ve got other stuff to do today.” 

Jin frowns, and for a beat, you can sense a strange energy from him. You’re reminded of when you caught him talking to Taehyung over your fence. That same coldness. It dissipates when he turns away from you, casting a melancholic look over at the pond. 

“Other stuff to do today?” he echoes. “Other...people to be with?”

You aren’t sure where he’s going with this train of thought. “...Yes? Kind of? I’m going to go  looking for Taehyung after.” 

He goes silent, watching the surface of the water with a distant gaze, his mouth briefly quirking. An uncomfortable quiet settles between you, broken only by the sound of the wind through trees and the occasional distant birdsong. You straighten, looking for something else to say, maybe you can sit for just a little while after all, but he sits up before you have the chance, moving to stand with one fluid motion. 

“You want to finish quickly so you can look for Taehyung,” he says, his expression faraway. 

It’s your turn to frown, staring at him incredulously. “I don’t get what you’re so upset about.”

He shakes his head, turning back to you with a long sigh drawn through his nose and a bitter smile curling the edges of his lips. 

“Never mind.”

You eye the man. What’s up with him? “Let’s finish the pond, then.” 

He blinks, hard, gaze briefly casting to the side before meeting yours again. He takes the space between you with a step, his expression turning earnest, his hands rising to his sides as if to placate you. 

“I meant what I said yesterday,” he puts in, low. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. I like you.”

“I like you too.” You add, “When you aren’t being weird. What is this about?”

“I miss you when you’re gone. It gets so lonely up here. Nobody comes to the pond anymore—no one tends the pond, or visits me, or prays at the shrine. It’s been so long…” He hesitates. “If we complete our deal...you’ll leave, too.”

“I won’t, Jin. I said I’d come and visit, and I meant it.” 

His short laugh is humorless. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that.” 

He interrupts before you can reply, shocked at how bitter he sounds. How sad. 

“Taehyung is happy with you. He adores you. You take care of him. And he protects you. And now that you’re here...now that you’re back...he hasn’t left your side, has he?” 

You pause. “He...he disappeared yesterday,” you confess. “I’ve been looking for him since. But I don’t get what—”

“ You’re searching for him .” He sounds heartbroken. “You miss him.” 

“...of course I do. He’s my…” You catch yourself in your confusion, unsure of what you were going to say and finishing lamely with, “...my dog.”  

Another beat of silence falls between you that feels significant.  You don’t understand why. The wind that cards through the air, entices your hair with it, brings with it the cool of the water’s surface. It soothes the touch of the sun shining above you, filtered through the willow tree into spots of sweet gold and dappled shadows that encase the two of you.

When Jin reaches for your hand, his expression soft, his movements gentle, you let him. You jolt in surprise when you feel something press into your palm. Wasn’t his hand empty just a moment ago? Looking down, you watch as he curls your fingers faintly around a small charm. About the size of a walnut, it looks like it used to be a brooch of some kind, but the fastener is long gone. A lily, fashioned out of clouded glass so thin and delicate that despite its size, it’s incredibly light. The edges are gilded, though the gold has rubbed away in places. It’s beautiful. Fragile, and old, but beautiful. Your confusion only heightens when, as he bends your fingers to wrap around it, you can feel electricity course through you. Like a wildfire, but warm and soothing instead of burning, crackling down your neck and hands, centered around his peculiar offering, and suddenly you’re hyper-aware of his cologne. Lilies. As clearly as if you were the one wearing it. All around you, the world has ceased making noise—allowing you your own private world in itself. All that is, all that matters, is you, the radiant man in front of you, and the tiny sun blazing heat into your palm. The wind holds its breath.

“Would you miss me?” Jin murmurs. Even his voice seems to have changed, almost sonorous in tone. 

You look up. He looks different. He looks vulnerable, strangely tired, even as he seems to shine, the sun outlining his frame and lighting up fireflies behind his eyes, through the strands of his hair.

You’re taken aback, but you’ve misunderstood the question. 

“Please?” he adds, earnest, pressing on your fingers again. 

“Secret club.” A voice suddenly weaves through the spell that had fallen across the two of you and you jump faintly, turning to spy the pink-haired boy craning past the willow’s tresses with a wide, playful smirk. “Can I come in?”

Jin immediately breaks the silence with an offended scoff. When he speaks again, he’s gone back to normal, sounding at once both harried and annoyed. “Jimin, go away.” 

All around you, the world has returned as if it never left. The birds calling far away, the gentle sound of the air through the trees. Why is that surprising? It’s hard to recall what, exactly, that moment felt like, even though it was only a second ago.

‘Jimin’ throws his eyes skyward and sags exaggeratedly against the willow leaves, swinging. “Ah, but I’m bored ,” he complains. Even his whine is musical, pitching into a huff at the end.  

“We are involved in something,” is Jin’s deadpan reply. “Leave.” 

Jimin squints at him, pausing. “No,” he says finally, brattish. “I want to play.” 

“I am busy.” 

Jimin swings gracefully one last time, disentangling himself from the willow and ghosting nearer to you, his smile growing until it pushes his eyes into crescents, his cheeks buxom. 

“I don’t want to play with you ,” he snipes at Jin. He reaches forward to grip the edge of your shirtsleeve with his small, delicate fingers, childish. He bounces slightly when he tugs at your sleeve. “You and me! Let’s go!” 

“She’s busy, too,” Jin tugs on your hand a little, turning his body towards the other boy as if to physically block him out. 

Are they...arguing over you ? Like schoolchildren? There’s no way of defining the cross between humor and disbelief that washes over you at the realization. Grown men. Grown strangers. 

Jimin’s pink hair waves when his head snaps upwards, a sharp look crossing his face suddenly. His grasp on your shirt tightens, fingers spidering upwards for a firmer grip, though still avoiding touching the meat of your arm.

“She’s in my debt,” he says, low, warning. “And I just decided on my payment.” 

“Whoah,” you interrupt, eyes wide, brow cocked. “Wait, debt? Payment?” 

“Go play with Taehyung,” Jin ignores your questions.

“He doesn’t want to!” Jimin protests. “He’s really upset for some reason.” 

“You know where Taehyung is?” This time, your outburst catches both of their attentions. Though Jin looks dismayed, frowning, Jimin only looks curious.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. 

“Could you take me to him?” Hope, excitement rises in your chest. Could it really be that easy? Maybe this whole time he’s been hanging out with someone else? That hope turns a little questionable when Jimin’s face smoothes into something sweetly conniving. 

“I could,” he replies, light. He tugs on your shirt again, pointedly. “But you have to play with me first,” he adds in a singsong.

Jin huffs. 

But you quirk your mouth and nod, moving to step away from Jin. “Alright. What are we playing?” 

Wait, is your hand empty again? Did you drop the brooch? Shocked, you turn to look for it, already forming apologies in your head, but you can’t see it anywhere near your feet, and when Jin speaks up again, he sounds more annoyed with the newcomer than concerned for the delicate item. 

“You’re being rude, Jimin.” 

Jimin sticks his tongue out at the other man, scrunching his nose in the process, while he turns to you and starts excitedly half-pulling you back up the incline, towards the bridge. 

“I wanna play Red Jay!” 

“You would!” Jin calls, trudging after you sullenly. He brushes off a spot on the bridge’s wide railing and seats himself on it, watching the two of you like someone jilted. 

“Isn’t it blue jay?” you ask. You aren’t exactly an expert on bird types, but you rifle through your limited knowledge anyway. Blue jay? Red robin?

“No.” Maybe this far out in the stix they have their own versions of games and/or birds. 

Your pink-haired consort leads you to the mouth of the bridge and circles around until he’s facing you, holding his hands out, palms forward. He waits expectantly.

You blink at him. 

“I...I don’t know what red jay is,” you confess after an awkward beat. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You used to,” he says, and before you can comment on that, he reaches for your hands, holding them up in the position his had been in. “You’ll want to know how to play it for tomorrow, at least.” 

His eyes sparkle. “Kids love Red Jay during Spirit Lights.” 

“Like this,” he directs. “First, you’re the red jay.” 

He presses his palms to yours, crossing his arms over one another, then moving in a circular direction until his are straight and yours are crossed. 

“‘Red jay,’” he begins, “‘O, red jay, when will the spring come?’

And then you turn your hands like this,” 

You obligingly switch your palms to face you. He taps the backs of your hands with his. 

He nods at you. 

“Your line is ‘When snow has stopped falling / and winter is done’.” 

You hesitate, watching him, but repeat it back slowly. 

The two of you continue in this manner, him feeding you your lines and teaching you to move your palms up, over, sideways—like a slow game of patty-cake.  

“Red jay, O red jay, when will you come home?”

“When tears have stopped falling / and I cease to roam.”

Curiously, you think, you might actually remember doing this. Your body tenses with excitement without really knowing why. 

“Red jay, O red jay, again, shall you run?”

Jimin’s eyes glint and his smile grows wide. 

“When lights have stopped glowing,” you reply, seized by a rush of giddiness. “and my work here is done.” 

“And now, we run —” Jimin barks, turning, beginning a game of tag. You’re the red jay, adrenaline courses through your veins and you remember this, suddenly kicking a leg out, obeying the laws of the child’s game by keeping your hands folded to mimic wings, but filled with triumph when you hook your ankle under Jimin’s and he trips with a scandalized yelp, falling to the ground beneath you. Unmatched glee washes over you. The red jay, victorious, spreading its wings above him and squatting to cradle him in your arms, laughing.

“And now I take you with me!” you shout, enthused. “Across the river and through the forest we’ll go!!” He whines, struggling out of your grasp. 

“You cheated!” he complains, but even though he’s trying to pout, frowning away from you, he’s obviously still pleased that you played along. 

You’re still giggling, allowing him to clamber upwards, your arms dropping to your sides. “I win. Take me to Taehyung.” 

“I want to keep playing,” Jimin protests. 

“No. I won.” 

“One more game,” he wheedles. “One more game. Something easy. If you win, I’ll take you to where I saw Taehyung.” 

“Jimin—”

He ducks his head, lips pursing into a perfect pout, searching your eyes through bubblegum strands of his hair, his own wide and glittering in the sun. “Please? Just one more game.” 

He looks at you like his heart is breaking. Like he’s never known loneliness so terrible. For sure, some of it is an act, but there has to be something there for someone to pester a stranger so much...Besides, he’s sweet enough, you think.

You hesitate, feeling pity for him despite yourself. “...What game?”

The smile that bursts across his face is brilliant. “Hide and seek! See? Easy.” 

“You live here,” you point out with a wry smile. “You probably know this town better than I ever could.” 

“I’ll give you a huge head start.” 

You consider it. But there’s no real reason to deny him this last game, and eventually you cave. 

“Alright, one more—”

“Yay!” 

“—and then you take me to where you saw Taehyung, no matter who wins .”

He immediately pulls up short, voice pitching into a whine. “But that wasn’t—”

“Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.” 

Jimin pouts again, throwing his arms across his chest, but he nods anyway, looking put-upon and deeply upset. “Okay, fine.” You don’t worry about him for too long, because he almost immediately sneaks back into a grin, mischief raising his brows. “Ready? One…” He spins on his heel and starts counting. 

Suddenly at a loss for what to do, you flounder, spinning around wildly to look for a good hiding spot. Under the bridge, maybe? Up in the willow tree? Neither of those will do at all. You’ll be found so quickly….Why do you care? The sooner the game is over, the sooner you can get your side of the deal. 

You jolt when a hand winds around your arm, tugging you gently to the side. Jin, standing just to your right, his expression unreadable but for the grim, strangely serious, curling one side of his mouth. 

“This way,” he urges in a hush. “I’ll hide you.” 

You aren’t sure why you nod, but the minute you do, he starts into a run. He’s fast, footsteps sure as he leads you back over the bridge, past the trees, swift and almost silent. Behind you, Jimin’s voice softens and fades until you can’t hear him anymore. Tugged along ungracefully, you struggle to keep up, but Jin never yanks too hard, and never slows. Beneath your feet, the path peters out, yet still leads faintly through the foliage as it grows denser, less tame. The wind whips at your hair, soothing over your face, sunlight turning to filtered rays and dollops of sun warming the green leaves ahead and the soft grass below. 

Jin takes you around a corner, his pace finally, finally slowing, and you’re treated to a small clearing edged with tall trees and old, climbing foliage. He lets go of your hand. You bend at the middle to reclaim what breath you can manage, thankful for the breeze that cools the sweat at your neck. When you can, you straighten to survey your surroundings, casting a doubtful look behind you. Could you find your way back out of here? Probably not. Even now you aren’t sure between which copse of trees you burst through to get here. Hopefully Jin doesn’t disappear before he can lead you back. Now you can hear the river that rings around the back of the town, but there’s no hint of the road that must surely be just as far away.

Before you, ringed by light, is a shrine made of stone. It reminds you of the one behind your house; a boulder about knee-height set in front of a lantern carved of the same type of rock. Ontop rests a shrine about the size of a birdhouse. The entire thing is cracked, covered in moss, vines threatening to overtake one side of the lantern and snaking into the walls of the shrine. 

“I’ve seen these before,” you manage to wheeze to Jin, gesturing. You straighten with a steadying breath. “There’s one in the forest down the road.”

“They used to be everywhere,” he replies quietly. He doesn’t seem out of breath at all as he steps forward to caress the tip of the lantern with a familiar touch. Something in his eyes gleams. 

“Kinda seems a little out in the open for a hiding place,” you add, throwing another look around. This time, you’re certain you don’t know the way back. The thought makes your skin crawl a little, but if you just keep an eye on Jin, he won’t be allowed to vanish into nothing—as apparently everyone in this town can do at will. So much for a quick game, you guess. 

His hum is wry. “I’ll keep him turned around for a minute. I still wanted to talk to you.” 

“Oh?” 

“I don’t mean to frighten you at all.” When Jin turns towards you, his face is earnest again. “I...I just…” he hesitates. “I get lonely.” He ducks his head, picking absently at the vines crossing the lantern. “People used to come up here all the time. And now...”

It's the second time he’s mentioned people visiting the pond. Admittedly, you’re curious. “Why? What are those for?” 

“To pray. They used to pray.” 

You watch him remove a tendril creeping inside the shrine with a delicate hand, and as he does, you recognize a shape hidden inside. A tiny bronze swan, with its head curled back towards its wings. The shapes carved into its back tell you it might have been an incense burner, though by now much of it has turned green and mottled. How long has it slept here?

“The swans? People prayed to the swans at the pond?...” You pause. “Miss Eunju and Mr. Sungmin did say that people don’t believe in the older stuff anymore. I guess they stopped coming when they stopped believing.”

“I never needed the faith,” Jin adds. “That was never the point. But reverence turned to fear, turned to….forgetting.” 

“People think the pond is haunted, you said.”

“Yes.” His frown deepens, his eyes desperately sad, aching with some ancient scar. 

“An old god, shunned by its people...” 

Jin’s laugh is a sudden one, hiding bitterness. “Was never a god. Didn’t mind being treated like one, though.”

You think of the swan, with all its enchanting, ethereal beauty, and can’t help but smile at the thought of it lounging on silk pillows, being fed fanciful scraps of expensive bread. “I bet.” Was that Jin’s job, you wonder. A caretaker for the godlike swans? But surely not—not for how old this shrine must be. Why does he take the town’s crisis of faith so personally? 

There is a moment of silence, punctuated only by the rush of nearby water and the distant calls of birds. The shifting of tree branches in the wind. The man standing before you looks like he belongs here, in the strangest of ways. A perfect addition to a painting depicting the ancient shrine, the greenery growing up around it, and a tall man with years beyond his time in his stare. 

Maybe he’s like you, you think. His family must have ties to this place, considering the man in Granny’s photograph. Years and years of history. He must feel an obligation to the pond, the shrine, the bridge...But the locals avoiding it must make him something of an outcast...yeah. 

Yeah, you can understand that. 

“You don’t have to bribe me with antique jewellry,” you say finally. “To come and see you.” 

He snorts, still not meeting your eye. “Bribe...?” 

“Yeah. I...you know, I like it here. This town. I haven’t made any real decision yet,” your hands raise in premature defense, “but...for as long as I’m staying...I don’t mind just. Coming to see you. To hang out.”

“You don’t?” His voice is quiet.

“Of course not. We’re friends.”

“We are?...”

“I’d like to be.” 

Seokjin turns to blink at you, like he’s in awe. At first, he seems unsure. Unconvinced, but the longer you watch him patiently, the more he appears to understand. His eyes catch the light, pushing into glittering crescents when he smiles broadly, without some of that bone-deep sadness you’re so used to seeing from him. He looks hopeful. Hesitantly so, but eager enough to try. “Friends. Yes...I-I’d like that, too. I really would.”

“Maybe once we’re done with the pond, we can come back here and clean this up, even?” you suggest, stepping to place your hand on the shrine, feeling the sun-warmed stone under your palm. “Get some foot traffic back here?”

“It’s okay.” He’s still grinning, brushing absently at the moss, his hand hovering. A beat, two, before he finally touches down, his long fingers curling faintly over yours. “It was a long time ago, anyway.” 

There’s a moment that you take, there, in that clearing, standing by this tall man as the mild breeze dances around you both, smiling softly and feeling warm where your hands meet. You seem to have banished whatever cloud was casting its darkness over him for the time being, his entire frame lit by the sun and brightened still further by the legitimate, excited smile he’s wearing.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I think I see now.”  

To your shock, he leans forward, craning closer. Heat rises in your face. You back up, balking, but before you can react properly, Jimin’s voice once again shatters through the clearing, ruining the mood threatening to descend upon you. 

“You’re such a cheater!” The pink haired man complains loudly as he clambers through a thicket, popping into view just to your right. That’s...now, that’s strange. You could have sworn the path was the opposite direction….? “Both of you! Cheaters!” 

Jin halts, his entire frame sagging with an exasperated look that almost makes you laugh with all the nervous energy now buzzing in your skull. “Distracted for two seconds,” he grumbles, raising a brow at you. “And that’s all it took for him to worm through.” 

“Distracted from doing...what?” you return, edging backward and sliding your hand out from under him. He lets you go easily, turning to survey Jimin instead of replying. 

“I won’t count this, you know,” Jimin continues in a whine. “It doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does,” Jin replies, scoffing.

...Was Jin going to kiss you?

“It doesn’t , you interfered—”

“—the terms that you laid out—”

Would you have stopped him? Of course. Of course you would. You shake your head at yourself, more engaged in recovering from your slight shock than their argument. Your cheeks are still on fire, heart pounding just at the memory of the handsome man’s proximity just then.

“—between me and her —”

“—explicitly said—”

Maybe he took it the wrong way. You said you’d be friends, he said he was lonely...How likely is it that he’s just gotten the wrong idea? How long has been alone for, exactly?...But you did mean it. You don’t want—can’t, with a clean conscience—to leave him by himself. And you do like him. As a friend. When he isn’t being weird.        

“—for your own ends, you always do this—”

“—at my pond—”    

“Hey,” you interrupt their bickering when it threatens to turn to yelling, stepping forward, arms raised placatingly. “Alright, enough. I agree with Jimin.”

The shorter man throws a triumphant look to the other, head cocking, eyes wide. 

“The game was supposed to be between me and him, and I had help. Those weren’t the terms. I’ll admit to that.” 

“ Ha .” 

“But—” you add, hesitating. You don’t want to promise Jin you won’t leave and then leave. You also don’t want to leave him with whatever... that was supposed to be. If you run off with Jimin now, he might keep the wrong idea. “But...I think Taehyung will be okay without me for a little while longer. So long as he’s doing alright.”

“ What ?” Jimin sounds devastated. When Jin looks over his shoulder to recapture your gaze, he’s practically glowing.

“I think I should keep up my first bargain.”

“You were —”

“Fixing the pond. With Jin.” you continue, interrupting Jimin’s scowl. “And maybe hang out. As friends.” You make sure to put extra emphasis on ‘friends’, but if it has any particular effect, Jin doesn’t show it. He still beams like you’ve gifted him the stars.

“But….but you…” Jimin’s face crumples into a familiarly distraught look, plump lips parted beseechingly. “But you said…”

“You can always help,” you point out. “And you said so yourself, kids love playing during Spirit Lights. So why can’t we play tomorrow?”

“Not with me, they don’t,” he harrumphs, glaring at a branch as he reaches to tug at it absentmindedly. “Not anymore.” 

“I wonder whose fault that is.” Jin’s voice has gone surprisingly cold, enough so that Jimin physically flinches at it, rolling his shoulder to deflect the words themselves. He pouts at the tree beside him as if it could rise up and defend him.

“ Hey ,” you recapture their attention, shifting your weight to the opposite foot. “Look, I came here to help Jin clean the pond, and that’s what I’m going to do. Jimin, you’re more than welcome to join. I’m sure we could use an extra pair of hands.” 

There’s a beat of silence, but eventually, all parties agree. Some more enthusiastically than others. Jin practically nods his head off his neck, while Jimin mumbles something incoherent at the tree he’s pulling at.

To his credit, Jin does lead your merry little band back out of the clearing and towards the pond. (In a third different direction from where either you or Jimin had entered the clearing—which you quickly decide not to ponder too deeply. Obviously, you don’t have as good a sense of direction as you might have originally suspected.)

And to his credit, Jimin does help. Somewhat. Kind of. Mostly he complains, refusing to wade through the muck and instead tugging petulantly at weeds by the banks. You come to enjoy the banter between them, Jimin’s high whine and Jin’s playful nagging. It feels like an old friendship, and it leaves you wondering why, if they’re so comfortable with each other, Jin doesn’t have him for company. 

Sooner than you would have thought the sun is threatening to go down, the air cooling around you, and you begin to think of calling it a night. How long were you in that clearing anyway? It’s hard to remember. Coming back it didn’t seem like it was too far away. You frown at the weeds you’ve plucked from the pathway, as if they could answer your questions.

“So,” you begin, directed at Jimin, who’s squatting by the bridge, distracted from weeds by a stray dandelion. “Could you just tell me where you saw Taehyung? Maybe I can look for him after Spirit Lights?” 

Jimin shakes his head, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his fluffy sweater absently. “The festival lasts until sundown,” he replies in a faraway pout, resuming his fiddling with the fluff-headed flower. 

“Yeah, but—”

“You can’t be out after dark,” Jin puts in, firm, from his position waist-deep in the water, tugging at the growths on the underside of the bridge. “Not on Spirit Lights.” 

“But—”

“Not without a mask,” Jimin adds. 

“Still not a good idea to go looking for Taehyung, though.”

“That’s true.” 

“What about before?” you try again. 

“He’ll be at the festival, maybe.” 

“He isn’t usually.” 

“No.” 

You roll your eyes. “Okay. So. What you’re saying is that I just need to give up.” 

Jimin cranes to grin at you, his cheeks going round at the corners when he does. “Maybe after,” he says. “The day after. We’ll play again, and I’ll take you to where he was today.”

“What good does that do me if he isn’t there?”

He shrugs, but his smirk doesn’t abate. 

Jin starts to walk towards you through the water, sloshing through the muck as he goes, clambering up the bank past Jimin. He flicks his fingers at the smaller man who shrinks with a scandalized noise. “You could always come back here.”

For a brief moment, you think of that half second in the clearing, where you were almost sure he was trying to kiss you. But you think next of after, of the cleaning, the banter, the laughter. Surely the strange mood that had snapped him up then has dissipated to something more...friendly? Acceptable? 

“I might do that.” 

His answering smile is like the sun. 

When you bid them goodbye, Jin is for once the more vibrant of the two, waving and smiling. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises. “At the festival.”

“But not after dark,” Jimin adds quickly. 

“Not after dark,” you agree, chuckling inwardly at how adamant they are about the old superstitions. “But tomorrow.” 

Your house is still so strangely empty when you turn in for bed. Hoseok and Yoongi are of course, long gone, and Taehyung is still missing. (Though, according to Jimin, alive and well—which soothes your worry for the small dog greatly.) But the sheets are cozy, the bed is soft, and there’s something exciting, exciting about the thought of the upcoming festival that has you asleep in moments, drifting off the moment you land on the pillow.