Chapter Text
Friday, August 8th
4:30 AM
I CAN BE YOUR HERO BABY, I CAN WASH AWAY THE PAIN
Father Kim wakes with a start, as if every morning didn’t begin with Enrique Iglesias blaring out of his phone into the silence. It seems closer this morning, though. He sits bolt upright in his bed, his phone plopping into his lap as he does.
That’s why it seemed closer, his phone was on his face. Laughing sleepily at himself, he silences the alarm, then stares at the dimly glowing screen for a moment before setting it on his side table and falling back onto his pillow to wait for his second attempt alarm to ring out.
There’s no intent to go back to sleep, but he needs to wrangle his thoughts and plot out his day. It was a big weekend, and if he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for it. To be honest once more, he didn’t think he was ever truly ready for anything, but he supposes that’s what happens when you do everything. You’re either overprepared for the nothing that happens or underprepared for all of it, no middle ground.
COMIN OUTTA MY CAGE AND I BEEN DOING JUST FINE
15 minutes is nowhere near as long as it should be. Sighing, he swings his legs out of bed and silences that alarm, and the rest, all in 15 minute increments of each other. When Yoongi and Jimin had stayed with him, he found himself mildly annoyed by Jimin’s seemingly hundreds of morning alarms, 15 minutes apart from one another, but once he did it himself, he understood the benefit of it- he was never late for anything, at least, and he knew exactly what time it was by which mid-to-late 2000s pop song was calling to him.
4:45 is a weird time, somehow. He’s awake, and he knows that when he finishes his morning routine, he’ll go out into the kitchen and Yoongi will be there prepping ingredients while looking angry with the world when in reality, he’s just somewhere in between awake and asleep; Jungkook will be there heating up his breakfast in the toaster oven, looking somewhat despondent as he stares into the middle distance and taps absentmindedly on the energy drink- or latte- that he’s holding but not drinking yet; Jimin will be bouncing back and forth between the two of them, either helping or clinging sleepily to their respective backs, depending on how the morning was going.
He starts his coffee maker, pops a pod in the chamber and lets it do its thing while he washes his face and brushes his teeth. The light in his bathroom is unforgiving and shamelessly highlights his gray hairs- hair sparkles, as Jimin would say- and so kindly emphasizes the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Vanity is a sin, yes, but it’s a reality and the reality is that he’s getting old. It’s not that he’s particularly bothered by the concept of aging, he just didn’t feel old. Which is the most important part, he supposes. Age is a feeling, not a number, and he knows his vibe is somewhere in between ‘responsible older sibling’ and ‘cool uncle’. He laughs at the thought as he wipes the corners of his mouth free of toothpaste- his vibe should be ‘priest’ but even he hates that idea. What does it mean, anyway?
Yawning, he pulls on his uniform, spritzes himself with the fabric freshener that Dawon had given him for his birthday- a soft cottony smell, like luxurious fabric softener- grabs his coffee and heads to the kitchen. He can hear his friends and their music in the kitchen and slowly makes his way toward them; he doesn’t want to interrupt what sounds like a very happy morning. It’s not that he thinks he’ll ruin the vibe or be intrusive, but he likes that they’re having fun, laughing and enjoying themselves. Life was hard , they’d all been through and seen so much, and it touched his heart when people thrived and found joy and light in life despite the turbulent nature of their past- or present- and the uncertainty of the future. He keeps his distance and watches for a moment; Yoongi is chopping peppers, bobbing his head and singing along to the song, Jimin is on Jungkook’s back, being piggybacked from one side of the kitchen to the other and acting as Jungkook’s third hand, holding utensils in one hand while clinging to Jungkook’s chest with the other. Granted, Jungkook would have both of his hands if he would put his muffin down, but Father Kim isn’t here to coach someone who’s been a whiz in the kitchen for years now.
Years. That’s wild and it hits him like a freight train as he watches them. Of course they’d all gotten older in the time they’d known each other, but Jungkook had hit the most milestones. He was a high school graduate. He was a legal adult- going on 20, to be exact. He was planning his future, the rest of his entire life.
“What’s going on in here?” He grins as he finally makes his presence known.
“Omelets,” Yoongi slides his diced peppers into a large red bowl in front of him before moving onto the next set, “and mid-90’s R&B.”
“I see,’ Father Kim nods and approaches the prep table, “how are we this morning?”
“Good,” Jimin hooks his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder, “but sleepy.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods and shifts, hiking Jimin further up on his back, “glad that it’s Friday.”
“I don’t know why, it’s not like it really means anything for us.” Yoongi discards a particularly questionable pepper to the compost bin.
“It means it’s pizza Friday.” Jungkook counters before taking another bite of his muffin.
“Are we still doing that tonight?” Father Kim sips his coffee.
“Yeah, why wouldn't we?” Jimin slides off of Jungkook’s back.
“I don’t know,” Father Kim shrugs, “it seems odd to prioritize that, considering.”
“We are creatures of habit,” Jimin retrieves his own coffee from the counter near the microwave, “and we don’t like our routines messed with.”
“Not at all.” Yoongi shakes his head and discards his cutting board in favor of a new one for onions.
“Besides,” Jungkook takes the board Yoongi has pushed aside, “nothing is changing tonight. It’s tomorrow that’s different.”
“Okay, fair,” Father Kim nods, “you make good points.”
“Speaking of, what do we need to get done?” Jimin leans against the counter, grasping his cup with both hands.
“You’re not possibly cold,” Jungkook teases, “it’s already 70 degrees out.”
“Hush,” Jimin nudges him with his foot, “the ac is on.”
“We need to get…a lot done.” Yoongi lets his head fall back with a sigh.
“Okay, well, can we break it down? Divide and conquer?”
“That would be best,” Yoongi returns to chopping, blinking hard as the onion assaults his eyes, “I’ll take care of cleaning and clearing, when Taehyung comes home we can work on building.”
“Alright,” Jimin nods, “Dawon and I can do the outside-of-the-house stuff.”
“I can do whatever or stay out of the way,” Jungkook washes his hands before jumping in to help Yoongi chop, “whichever is more beneficial.”
“Actually,” Father Kim taps the table, “if you could help me finalize things with delivery, that would be fantastic. There’s so much to get from here to there and it’s a lot to carry.”
“I’ve got you,” Jungkook flexes his arms playfully, “I can lift it all.”
“Great, so,” Jimin points at Yoongi, “cleaning and clearing and building.”
“Yep.” Yoongi nods.
“Dawon and any last minute things we might need,” he points to himself, then to Jungkook and Father Kim, “last mile delivery.”
“Correct.” Father Kim nods.
“Alright, then,” Jimin sighs and then claps his hands, “break!”
“Babe, we still have work to do.” Yoongi laughs.
“Oh,” Jimin laughs, too, “right.”
Father Kim gulps the rest of his coffee and immediately knows that it’s the first of many he’s going to need to get through this weekend.