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Jimin has spent his life being reminded of his roots. Exorcists are humans tasked with the job of keeping their realm free from demons. The order must be maintained. Aloe for burns, three orders of Holy Water, the students at the Academy went through their stores again, how soon can you have a new batch?
Jimin’s parents own an exorcist supply store. His whole life, he’s seen Exorcists of varying classes come and go. When he ended up being a good student, they let him enrol in the True Cross Academy to become the first exorcist in the family.
“Jimin,” Taehyung whines sleepily, “give me your leg. C’mon.”
“No.” Jimin shoves him back but he’s uncoordinated and sleepy, so he misses and instead smears his hand over Taehyung’s mouth. “Needa get up. Have morning class.”
“Just ditch,” Taehyung groans. “Okumura’s a shit teacher anyway.”
“We’ve a test coming up,” Jimin insists, but Taehyung doesn’t budge and Jimin is too tired to fight back properly. Letting his eyes fall closed is the most serene feeling he’s ever experienced. “Need to go.”
“Ditch,” Taehyung repeats, pillowing his head on Jimin’s thigh. His hair is gross and sweaty from the heat, but Jimin runs his fingers through it anyway. Taehyung’s had a habit of climbing into Jimin’s bed with the morning alarm since their first year, and Jimin likes the cuddles, but sometimes Taehyung’s bad influence spreads.
Jimin flops back on his pillow and lets sleep take him back. Taehyung purrs happily on his leg.
“Park Jimin.” Mr Yoo pauses at his desk and hands him back his paper. 95. Not that bad. He glances across to Taehyung and sees an angry 45 written at the top. Jimin can only watch as the wind falls out of his best friend, and he rubs his eyes tiredly.
“I suggest you study harder next time, Kim,” the teacher says rudely, moving to the next desk.
“Tae?” Jimin asks, and Taehyung sighs heavily before he straightens, shaking his shoulders out.
“Whatever,” he says quietly.
“Taetae, no,” Jimin tells him. “Give me your paper. Where’d you go wrong?”
“I didn’t study enough,” Taehyung shrugs, but he’s obviously upset. Jimin takes his paper and scans their answers. They’re all correct, which makes Jimin frown. Taehyung has odd sentence structure, slightly different, but if the person marking took a second to think about what he meant, they’d be correct.
“These are right,” Jimin says bitterly. “Why’d he mark you down?”
“I must not have used the right words, or something.”
“Taehyung, stop.” Jimin tells him. “I’ll ask. This isn’t fair.”
“No—no, Jimin.” Taehyung snatches his wrist back sharply. The chatter of the classroom continues, but Jimin can feel eyes on them. Taehyung stares at him long and hard before he sighs. “Don’t say anything.”
“What happened?” One of the other boys, a giant douche from a rich exorcist family, comes over to their desk. “Did Kim fail again?”
“Don’t disrespect him,” Jimin snaps. His blood boils every time they have the nerve to call Taehyung ‘Kim-ssi’. “I bet you he did better than you, Donghyuk.”
“Guess again, cashier boy,” the snob flashes a perfect 100. “Too bad the demon’s gonna get kicked out.”
“Donghyuk, you fuck—”
“I didn’t study enough,” Taehyung interjects humidly, smiling up at Donghyuk. Jimin knows it’s fake because he squints his eyes shut. Taehyung always likes to make eye contact when he smiles at people. “It’s too bad.”
Donghyuk’s smile turns sour. “Whatever.”
As soon as he’s gone, Jimin wants to scream. “Taehyung, he’s being an asshole to you, you can’t let him do that. Taehyung, please.”
“It’s fine.” Taehyung swallows hard, like it’s something a little too spicy. “Stop making him hate you too, Jimin. You might need to work with him one day.”
“I wouldn’t work with that piece of—”
“Jimin,” Taehyung interjects. He’s smiling so pleasantly but Jimin hates it. “Don’t. It’s fine. I’m used to it, remember? Just help me study more next time.”
Jimin grips the edge of the desk until his knuckles go white. “Sure. Of course, Tae.”
“Please, Taehyungie,” Jimin says, “let’s go to Okumura at the top. Please. This isn’t fair to you.”
Taehyung just shrugs at his desk, hunched over a textbook. “I don’t want to make a fuss.”
“Taehyung, he could help—”
“In class, maybe,” Taehyung admits, “but what about outside of it? Do you think students like Donghyuk haven’t beaten kids up in the bathrooms?”
Jimin bites his lip, staring at the tense line of Taehyung’s shoulders. “But it’s not fair.”
Taehyung sighs. “I know.”
Jimin’s parents always told him the stories. How hard exorcists work to keep the Gehenna from entering Assiah, the trials and tribulations of the early Paladins. How demons are parasites to humans, destructive and vile. Exorcists are cruel and unwavering in their judgements. Even having a demon ancestor from years ago is a curse.
When Jimin first met Taehyung, he was so proud. He was quiet about it, hesitant to reveal it to Jimin when they first met, but once he realised Jimin didn’t see him differently—he was proud of it. And it was beautiful to see.
Taehyung isn’t proud of it anymore, and it weighs down Jimin’s heart like a stone.
“Hey,” Jimin says, resting his chin on the top of Taehyung’s head and wrapping his arms around his neck. “Taehyungie.”
The tension falls out of Taehyung easily, sinking back onto Jimin’s chest. His chest stutters once or twice, swallowing something down. “Hey, it’s okay.”
Taehyung sniffles loudly, inhaling painfully. “M’sorry.”
“No, Taehyungie,” Jimin tells him firmly, squeezing him tighter. “Don’t be. Please.”
“I just—” Taehyung struggles through a few tight, sob-thick breaths. “Not—not everyone h-has friends li-ike you, Jiminie. So I shouldn’t—”
“Don’t you dare say you shouldn’t be upset,” Jimin says, a little too harshly. “Please, Taehyungie. They’re rotten to you.”
“I know but—it shouldn’t—get me down,” Taehyung fumes, voice reedy with how upset he is.
“Taetae, come here,” Jimin pulls the chair around so he can gather Taehyung in his arms properly. His t-shirt pulls back from how hard Taehyung grips it behind his back, shoulders shaking. “It would get anyone down. You don’t have to be so nice to them, you know that, right?”
“I just want them to leave me alone,” Taehyung whines into Jimin’s shoulder, so small. “I can’t h-elp what my grandma was, why do they—what am I do-oing wrong?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Jimin insists, voice catching. “It’s not your fault. You know it’s not your fault.”
Taehyung hiccups brokenly into Jimin’s shoulder, never quite crying, but something rattling a little deeper. It’s exhausting to be Jimin, he can’t even imagine what it must be like to be Taehyung.
It takes ten minutes and a wash-up for Taehyung to calm down completely, and by then he looks exhausted, so Jimin tucks him into bed and climbs in after him, holding him as tight as he can.
“We can take this to Okumura,” Jimin whispers into Taehyung’s hair. “You know that, right? He’s a demon, he understands where you’re coming from.”
“I don’t want a fuss, Jiminie,” Taehyung says quietly.
“It doesn’t have to be big,” Jimin insists. “Just—let’s talk to him, okay? I’m sure he can be subtle.”
Taehyung snorts at that, familiar with the stories about the young Paladin. Subtlety was never something he was renowned for. “I’m serious!”
“Okay,” Taehyung whispers. “If—if you think he can help us like that.”
Taehyung always says that. Us. It makes something pinch painfully in the back of Jimin’s throat. He likes being an us, but he can’t tell Taehyung. Not yet.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Jimin tells him firmly. “And if Okumura doesn’t help us, we’ll call Yoonji.”
Taehyung giggles a little at that, and some of the heaviness leaves Jimin’s chest.
It’s going to be okay.
“Love you,” Jimin says quietly into Taehyung’s hair, and his heart catches when Taehyung finds his hand and grips it hard.
“I love you too,” Taehyung whispers back.