Chapter Text
Jungkook stared at the house in front of him. He hesitated even using that world. Mansion was likely more fitting.
He blinked in dazed confusion for a few more moments before fumbling for his phone and going back through his messages. There was no way this was the right address.
The home in question was a commanding presence. Even nestled among its stately neighbors, this home stood out. Situated on the corner, its high wrought iron gates stretched at least 10 feet in the air. As Jungkook wearily peered past the bars and across the small front garden, the sweeping stone staircase that led up to a grand front door was flanked by honest-to-god stone lions sculptures. Delicate blue stained glass windows accentuate the already regal entrance.
Jungkook desperately scrolled back through his messages, triple checking his location on Google maps, and then stared for a solid minute at the filigreed numbers on the gate in front of him. Just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
His thumb hesitated over the phone icon. Should he call the person he was messaging?
“Ugh,” he whined internally. “I hate making phone calls.”
But at the same time, he was pretty sure if he walked up and knocked on the door, and it turned out he was in the wrong place, he would be arrested. He wasn’t totally clear on the trespassing laws in the U.S., but he definitely didn’t want to take any chances, having been in the country a grand total for 36 hours. Jungkook silently cursed all of his decisions leading him up to this point.
It happened like this.
Jungkook was doing well for himself as a freelance digital illustrator in Busan. Much to his mother’s delight he has even finished his degree online and was making a tidy sum on commissions. Enough that he could almost afford to move out and get his own apartment.
Jungkook saw the door opening for him that he never thought possible. Making an actual living off of his art, it was something that filled him with a warm feeling from the inside out.
And then, the fall.
One of his images was ripped from the filing sharing site he used with a client, and went viral. At first he was thrilled with the attention it brought him. But slowly, the hate started trickling in. Then as if caught in a tsunami, the wave of accusations of plagiarism started and didn’t let up. A well-known and well-loved illustration influencer posted on their story that Jungkook’s art had been copied from his private collection.
Jungkook was at a loss of how to respond. He’d never even seen the influencer’s art, except perhaps in passing. To him, there was clearly no connection between their styles. He messaged the influencer directly, only to be immediately blocked. And not being very active on social media to begin with, Jungkook opted to just stay quiet. He figured people would see their art was nothing alike, how ridiculous the accusation was, and that things would eventually blow over.
In retrospect, that was not a good decision. His silence was taken as a confession, and then it seemed as if the entire Korean illustration community turned against him on a dime. He started losing out on more and more commissions, projects that had been arranged months in advance disintegrated.
As each day passed he saw his dream of making a living from his art slip further and further away. Mindlessly browsing the internet one night he stumbled upon a game design program at a school in the U.S. he had never heard of before. He’d done some work with Korean game designers before and, without thinking about it too much, submitted his portfolio.
He completely forgot about the entire thing after a few weeks, until he received an email from the admissions team at the school, DePaul, he read. They liked his portfolio and asked why he hadn’t submitted the rest of his application. Their deadline was still rolling, and if he got his required materials submitted they would consider him for admission. The email also included a link to an MFA scholarship application and encouraged him to apply.
Beyond one late night’s internet surfing, Jungkook had never seriously considered going back to school. Especially not in America. He’d studied English, but never with the intention of moving abroad. But, as he scrolled through his Excel sheet of canceled commissions and delinquent invoices, a new kind of determination settled over him.
Fast forward four months and he was packing his bags for Chicago. He’d not only scored an admission seat, but a fairly decent scholarship. Better yet, he was all set to live at the International Student House. An old stone building which housed graduate students from around the world pursuing different programs at the city’s different universities, at an extremely reduced rent with meals included.
However, Jungkook should have realized at this point in his life, that nothing could really be that easy. As he mindlessly scrolled through his phone at the Seattle Airport during his 6 hour layover, his inbox dinged. It was an email from the administrator of the International Student House. Jungkook slowly read the email with a growing sense of dread.
There has been a leak in the dorms, most of the damage was minor, but the room that was intended for Jungkook had flooded, and as a result was inhabitable for the semester. The email went on to apologize profusely for trouble, promising a full refund of his deposit, and listing several alternative living options that still had availability.
Jungkook felt his palms start to sweat as he flicked through each of the alternative housing options with impending panic. All of the options were much much more expensive, and hardly any of them included meals, which he had been counting on to stay within his already meager budget.
Jungkook locked his phone and stared up at the industrial ceiling of the airport. He tried to even out his breathing. He was already in a foreign country, in which he only had a tenuous grip on the language. He didn’t have a single friend or relation on this side of the ocean. And now, he had nowhere to live.
After wallowing in his own misfortune for a solid five minutes, getting up and buying a pretzel at Auntie Ann’s, and pacing a full circuit around his gate, Jungkook sat down and unlocked his phone again.
When he had been packing for his move, his mom had nagged him incessantly about finding other Koreans in Chicago. And while part of Jungkook’s flight to an American school was to escape the Korean art scene, he has finally relented to her ceaseless nagging and joined a few online chat groups designed for immigrants and students coming from Korea to Chicago.
He’d hardly glanced at them since joining, but now he combed through them carefully. Just as he was about to give up and spend his remaining converted won on purchasing a truly egregious amount of cinnamon sugar pretzels to numb the pain, he saw a simple posting that didn’t seem to have any replies.
Room to let in Lincoln Park neighborhood. Private room with shared bathroom, kitchen. Utilities and five dinners/week included. Six current occupants. Available immediately. Rent negotiable, approval contingent on unanimous roommate interview.
The posting concluded with a phone number to text for more information.
Jungkook quickly typed the neighborhood into Google and was shocked to see how close it was to campus. Closer even than the International Student House. Plus a private room and five meals? It seemed too good to be true as Jungkook quickly started to draft a text to the number provided.
He halted halfway through the first sentence. Wait, what if it was too good to be true? What if he showed up and it was some kind of front? Jungkook chewed his lip as he considered.
It couldn’t really be worse than his current predicament. He could always scope out the location and if he got creeper vibes, he’d bail and book a Airbnb until he could find a more permanent place.
Yes, this was a good plan. Jungkook gave himself a little satisfied nod and finished composing his message. He hesitated over how much information to provide up front, and ultimately decided to keep it simple.
Hi, this is Jungkook from Busan. I’m starting my MFA at DePaul next week. My dorm housing just fell through and I’m looking for a place. Can I set up a meeting?
He half expected no one to respond. At the very least, he assumed he wouldn’t get a reply before he boarded his plane to Chicago. But just a few minutes later his phone dinged.
Hi Jungkook! Welcome to the US! We’d love to meet you, can you come by tomorrow at 11?
The person didn’t supply a name, but he did include an address.
Jungkook started and erased several replies, before finally just sending the following:
11:00 is good. See you then.
He felt like he should ask more questions, but his head was already starting to hurt from a combination of jet lag and stress.
“I’ll just let tomorrow Jungkook deal with it,” he thought sleepily as he curled further down into his oversized hoodie, determined to get at least a few hours of sleep before boarding his flight to Chicago.
Throw in a very uncomfortable night’s sleep at the airport terminal, a confusing ride on the L, in which he missed his station twice, and enough McDonald’s hash browns to feed a small youth soccer team, and you were all caught up. And that pretty much is what got him here. Standing in front of this imposing mansion.
He glanced at his phone one more time. Instead of calling he decided to shoot off a simple text.
I’m here.
A minute passed. Then another. Jungkook nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other and spun his rolling suitcase in a messy circle.
Just then, a fluttering of the curtains in the main room caught his attention. It seemed like someone had pulled them aside to peek out, only to quickly replace them.
Jungkook stared at the spot, then looked down at his phone once again.
Nothing.
With a sigh he shoved it into his pocket. Maybe this was all a joke. Maybe there wasn’t a posting at all. Maybe the people inside the house thought he was the one being a creeper standing in front of their gate. Maybe they had already called the police!
Jungkook’s mind spun faster and faster, imagining every possible horrible outcome. He was so wrapped up in his self-imagined tale of woe, that he didn’t feel his phone vibrate.
He also apparently missed the front door opening and someone coming out. So, he couldn’t help but jump out of his skin when a clear rich voice called out to him.
“Hey, Jungkook?”
Jungkook’s eyes immediately snapped to the source of the sound and he felt his panic dissipate, only to immediately start up again for a completely different reason.
In front of him stood the most good-looking man he had ever seen in his life. He was likely in his late twenties. His dark hair slightly rumpled, like he had been running his hand through it. Even though he was dressed down in jeans and a cardigan, Jungkook could tell just from looking that his clothes were expensive, and well cared for.
He was giving Jungkook a kind of sympathetic smile, face slightly laced with what appeared to be concern.
When Jungkook didn’t reply, the man’s eyebrows crinkled, concern deepening.
“Uh, Jungkook, right? Here about the room?”
From somewhere deep within him, Jungkook rediscovered his power of speech enough to make a choked reply.
“Uh yep, yep. That’s me.” Smooth Jungkook. “Sorry, I just got in a little while ago, still jet lagged.” He gave his best sleepy smile, hoping that would make up for his utter lack of words.
The man’s face melted, and he dipped his head in understanding. “Ah, the flight from Seoul to Chicago is killer. I think Jin or Yoongi have a fresh batch of tinctures that’ll help if you’re out.”
He turned back toward the front door, and motioned Jungkook to follow him through the gate, but not before grabbing one of Jungkook’s rolling suitcases.
“Um, yeah,” Jungkook mumbled, silently swallowing his question about what the fuck a tincture was, and why he assumed Jungkook would likely have one on him.
Jungkook was suddenly struck by how little he knew about the situation he was walking into. He didn’t even ask the person his name when they had been texting. He also hadn’t even asked for a range on the rent. The ad had said negotiable, but as Jungkook surveyed the outside of the house, now from the other side of the fence, he had a sinking suspicion that it would be far outside his price range.
The last sentence of the ad suddenly flashed through his mind.
Approval contingent on unanimous roommate interview.
Shit.
Should he have prepared something? What even was a roommate interview? He was tempted to just turn around now and find the nearest motel to hole up in until he could figure something else out. He would have too, except his host had a firm grip on his largest rolling suitcase. And while Jungkook was willing to let go of a lot, he reasoned that since he already was homeless he likely shouldn’t be without clothing either.
So with a heavy feeling of reluctance, Jungkook followed the man up the stone steps and into the foyer of the house, which was just as grand as the exterior suggested.
The man quickly busied himself divesting Jungkook of his other luggage and oversized backpack. Leaving Jungkook to gawk at many thousands of dollars worth of art that tastefully adorned the walls.
“Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about them just wanting my money,” Jungkook thought idly.
Just then he heard loping steps bounding down the staircase. He turned just in time for the second most good-looking person he’d ever seen materialize. Jungkook almost wanted to rub his eyes, the way they did in cartoons. This man looked like something right out of a k-drama. He was dressed just as cozy as the other man, in a dusty pink oversize hoodie and ballcap. His broad shoulders still distinctly visible even swimming in the soft fabric.
He saddled up to Jungkook, squeezing his arm before leaning casually against the entryway wall. His hip cocked to the side, eyes roving over Jungkook, with a mischievous smile.
“Yah, Jungkook, welcome, welcome to Chateau de Bangtang!”
“I uh…”
“How many times do I have to tell you that we aren’t calling the house that.” The other man’s exasperated voice floated through the air.
The person in pink seemed unperturbed. “I’m Jin, but I’m sure you already put that together from my fabulous headshot. I hope it wasn’t too distracting from the other information.”
He eyed Jungkook expectantly, but his face must have betrayed his confusion. His lack of response seemed to put a damper slightly on the man’s mood.
“You know,” he prompted. “From the potential roommate orientation packet.”
“The…what?” Jungkook responded weakly.
“The potential roommate…” his voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to the man behind him.
“Namjoon! Did you not send him the information after he responded to the post?” His voice was accusatory.
Ah, at least now he had a name to put with Mr. Dreamy’s face. Namjoon.
“What? No, of course I did,” Namjoon responded defensively.
His eyes slid beseechingly to Jungkook. But as he took in Jungkook’s wide eye confusion he started frantically scrolling through his phone, mumbling to himself.
“Of course I sent it, I always…” his voice trailed off. And then, softly, “Shit.”
He looked up from his phone, meeting both Jungkook and the other man’s faces. Expression sheepish, like a kid that had been caught coloring on the walls.
“I um, I may have neglected to send it hyung.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he rushed to qualify them.
“I was really caught up in finishing some urgent research, I meant to send it as soon as I wrapped, but it dragged on longer than I thought and then it…it just, you know, slipped my mind.”
He grimaced as the man in pink let out an indignant squawk.
“Namjoon, how could you! This poor child is fresh off the boat from Korea, not a friend in the world, and you had him just walk in here blind, with no information! He doesn’t even know if he’s compatible with our affinities. What kind of stress are you trying to put him through? He must be truly desperate if he still showed up after getting NO information from you.”
Jungkook felt a jolt of annoyance flash through him. He had friends! And Chicago is landlocked, he obviously didn’t take a boat here. And…he wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by affinities but he was indignant at the thought of someone else thinking he couldn’t figure it out on his own.
“Uh, actually, I flew here, I didn’t um, I didn’t take a boat.”
Jungkook already regretted opening his mouth as the man, clearly still mid-tirade, turned to him.
“And you!” He almost shrieked. “What were you thinking, coming to a viewing with so little information? We could have been dark practitioners looking for a sacrifice for all you know! I bet you didn’t even tell anyone where you were going before you came here, did you?”
Jungkook stared back at him in disbelief, not quite processing how he was now on the receiving end of a such a nonsensical scolding.
As the silence stretched between the three of them, it then became apparent to Jungkook that the man’s question was not, in fact, rhetorical.
“I, um…” he wanted to hedge, but the man fixed him with a look that truly rivaled his own mother. “I um, no, I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here.”
The man let out an exasperated sigh and threw his hands up in the air. He turned his back to both Jungkook and Namjoon, almost as if he needed a moment’s reprieve from being in the presence of each of their own carelessness to gather himself. He took a few deep breaths and then turned around again.
“Okay, let’s start this again,” he smiled at Jungkook, while shooting one last murderous look at Namjoon. “My name is Kim Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin. Behind you is the very absent minded, but ultimately harmless host of the house, Kim Namjoon.”
He motioned for Jungkook to follow him. Jungkook clumsily slipped out of his combat boots and tripped over himself to follow.
“Right now, there are six of us living here. We’re all Korean and came to the States for various different things over the years. I’m sure you’ll get the full story from everyone later.” Jin flicked his hand dismissively, clearly not bothered by the details.
“You’re a little early, so not all of the guys are here yet, but I can go round them up while Jin shows you around a bit, if that works for you?” Namjoon asked.
He still seemed somewhat sheepish, clearly he didn’t take his scolding from Jin lightly.
“Sure,” Jungkook responded. He was a little at a loss concerning everything that was unfolding around him, but decided it was best to just go with the flow on this one.
Namjoon quickly peeled off. Jungkook could hear his footsteps receding and the opening and closing of doors, as he presumably worked to locate his four other housemates.
“Well, I’ll show you the empty room. We’ll do a full house tour after you sit down with everyone and you decide if you think it’s a good fit or not.” Jin ushered him to the back of the house and up yet another flight or stairs.
Jungkook tried to keep his eyes peeled as he went. With every passing room, the house seemed more and more interesting. First, while Jungkook was no architect, he couldn’t help but think that the layout inside the house didn’t seem to match the exterior, at least not from what he could see. It seemed as if somehow the house expanded at strange angles and junctures, making it much larger than it should be.
He didn’t have much time to dwell on the strangeness though, as Jin continued to hustle him up yet another flight of spiral stairs. He was so focused on taking in his surroundings that he didn’t notice Jin abruptly stop, causing Jungkook to almost crash into him.
“And this,” Jin gestured to a closed white door with jazz hands. “Could be your room!”
And with a flourish he opened the door and twirled inside. Jungkook found himself stifling a laugh. He couldn’t help but feel his unease melt away at Jin antics.
The second he stepped into the room, any remaining feelings of reservation that he had evaporated. The room was beautiful. Spacious and light filled, it seemed to be situated in a turret he hadn’t even seen from the street. The corner of the room was made almost completely of windows that arced out in a semicircle.
The light that spilled through the windows bathed everything in a warm glow. Situated just under the windows was a large desk. There was a bed pushed up against the far wall, and on the opposite interior a small brick fireplace.
“It’s like it's for a princess.” Jungkook breathed.
“Or a prince,” Jin smirked in return.
Jungkook hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud, and felt himself flush all the way to his toes at Jin’s teasing. If Jin noticed his embarrassment, he didn’t seem fazed. He just continued to slowly walk around the room touching things here or there as if inspecting for dust.
“So, obviously it comes furnished, but if there is something you’d rather change just let us know. Tae’s is pretty good with transformation.”
Jungkook nodded mutely. Now he was even more sure that he wouldn’t be able to afford their negotiable rent. Not for a room like this.
Jin showed him the shared bathroom, which apparently he would share with the two others who occupied this wing, Jimin and Taehyung. And then Jin was hustling him back down yet another set of stairs and through more twisting hallways until he found himself seated on a plush leather couch opposite six sets of appraising eyes.
Jungkook struggled to not shrink back even further into his hoodie. Apparently Namjoon and Jin weren’t just outliers amongst the housemates. All six of them were gorgeous. How was it that six of the most beautiful people he’d even seen all happened to live together in one house? Maybe that was part of the interview process? Was there a beauty threshold he would have to meet?
He suddenly felt his palms start to sweat again, and he discreetly tried to wipe them on his pants and decided to just focus on not looking as nervous as he felt.
After what seemed like an eternity, Namjoon clapped his hands together and smiled.
“So, everyone, this Jungkook, he’s--”
“--from Busan right?” One of the boys that wasn’t Namjoon or Jin cut in. He had full cherub-like cheeks, eyes sparkling as he observed Jungkook.
“I’m Jimin, I’m from Busan too!” The boy chirped in Satoori. He smiled warmly at Jungkook.
“Right.” Namjoon seemed to huff a laugh. “I uh, I neglected to send him the potential roommate information pack, so let’s all go around and introduce ourselves to start.” He motioned to Jimin. “Why don’t you go first Jiminie since you already started.”
Jimin preened, seeming to take the role of first introduction seriously. He sat up straighter and shook out his shoulders, before fixing his gaze back on Jungkook.
“Right, so like Namjoon said, I’m Jimin. He mentioned you’re here to work on your MFA?” Jimin arched his brows, waiting for Jungook to confirm his assertion before moving on.
Jungkook nodded. “Um, in game development, specifically.” He supplied softly.
“That’s awesome!” Jimin said with another bright smile. “Most of us work in the mortal world these days too, and you know, just use our magic on the side.”
Jungkook had been nodding along out of polite habit, when Jimin’s words finally registered a few moments later.
Mortal world? Magic? Wait…what?
“Magic,” Jungkook said weakly. “Like cards and stuff?”
He was thinking back to a birthday party he attended in elementary school. The boy’s parents had hired a magician, and Jungkook had sat transfixed as he made each person’s card magically appear in the middle of the deck.
A look of confusion crossed Jimin’s face and he cocked his head slightly to the side, as if Jungkook was the one who had something strange.
“Ah, you mean like tarot cards?” His face quickly dissolved into understanding.
“No one in the house has a tarot affinity.” He glanced around the group as if to confirm his statement, when no one spoke up to contradict him he continued. “But Namjoon has a few decks laying around from his research. Why, is that your affinity?”
He looked at Jungkook curiously, as did the others behind him.
“My…affinity?” Jungkook parroted slowly.
“Yeah,” Jimin gestured abstractly with one hand. “You know, what kind of magic do you mainly practice?” His smile was just as kind and genuine as before.
Jungkook stared at him. He wanted to laugh, but something about the kind, open look Jimin was giving him made his mouth turn to sandpaper. So instead of laughing, he forced the only words he could think of out of his mouth.
“But…magic isn’t real?” He’d meant it as a statement, but it came out much more as a question.
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, it was as if all of the air in the room had been sucked out. A quiet settled on the group so heavy, that in that moment, you could hear a single pin drop in the next room.
And then, after an extended pregnant pause, the room exploded with sound. It seemed like all six of the men in front of him were speaking at once.
“Namjoon, what the fuck,” Jin shrieked, his voice cutting through all the overlapping chatter.
“Are you saying you brought a mortal here, to our house, as a potential roommate?” Jin hit Namjoon on the shoulder punctuating each point.
“What, what, no!” Namjoon flapped his hands helplessly around him. “Yoongi put an electronic enchantment on the posting, only magic users should have been able to read it.”
At that, Jin spun around to the boy sitting on his other side. He had a beanie on and even with the chaos around him, seemed somewhat sleepy and nonchalant.
“Don’t look at me Jin,” the boy waved his hand before Jin could even begin his tirade. “I know my enchantments, it was air-tight. And besides,” he shot a look at Jin and Namjoon, eyes suddenly more alert. “Didn’t you and Namjoon just re-do the wards last weekend? A mortal wouldn’t even be able to find this house, let alone cross through the gate.”
That seemed to shut Jin up for a moment, as his head swiveled back to Jungkook. Face puzzled.
“He is a magic user.”
All eyes, including Jungkook’s, snapped to the person speaking. His dark curls slightly obscured his face, but Jungkook could make out dark, fox-like eyes which seemed to look less at Jungkook, and more directly through him.
“Care to elaborate on that one, Tae?” Another boy asked. His voice and face were serious, which was a strange contrast to the brightly colored sweater he was wearing, paired with a tie-dye bucket hat.
The boy, Tae it seemed, simply cocked his head to the side and continued to stare at Jungkook.
“He is a magic user,” he repeated. And then after a long pause, continued, “I can smell it on him. And not to mention,” his eyes sliced down to Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook swore he could feel his gaze bore into him physically. “It’s written on his heart.”
Jungkook simply gawked back at him.
The boy in the bucket hat leaned closer to Tae, squeezing him on the thigh until he finally broke his gaze from Jungkook and looked at him.
“Taehyung,” the boy said quietly. “You’re sure?”
Taehyung didn’t even pause to consider.
“Positive, hyung.”
That seemed to satisfy the boy in the bucket hat, as he patted Taehyung gently on the thigh before retracting his hand and turning back to face Jungkook.
“All right then.” He nodded.
Jungkook simply stared back bewildered. All right then? What the fuck? Nothing about this was alright. He was clearly the victim of some type of elaborate prank, the point of which he just couldn’t quite work out.
And yet…as crazy as everything around him sounded, and that the logical part of his brain was screaming at him that there is no such thing as magic. Another, deeper, part of him, felt something he could only describe as a kind of relief.
It was as if, for as long as he could possibly remember, he had been holding his breath, waiting, for something. And now, just now, here in this living room with six strangers, or foreign soil, he was finally able to exhale.
It was something right.
It was that feeling that finally gave Jungkook the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry, but can someone please tell me what is going on right now?” He meant for the comment to come off as strong, maybe even slightly annoyed, but the tremble in his voice gave him away immediately.
“Kid, listen,” the boy in the beanie has wormed his way up off the couch and come to crouch in front of Jungkook.
He held out his slender, porcelain white hand, which after a moment’s hesitation, Jungkook took. It was warm, and he squeezed Jungkook's hand reassuringly.
“I think there are a lot of things that we’ll need to explain to you.”
Jungkook opened his mouth, questions already racing through his mind faster than he could sift through them. The boy raised his other hand, as if to preemptively quiet Jungkook’s questions from spilling out.
“And we’ll get to them all, in good time. But right now, right here, I want you to think back over your life. Have you ever felt like there was some kind of invisible barrier separating you from everyone around you? The other kids at school, your friends, maybe even your family?”
Jungkook hardly had to give the question any thought. Of course. He’d been a loner his whole life. Growing up, he’d desperately wanted to have friends the way he saw everyone else did. They made it look so easy, seamlessly falling into friend groups be it anchored in sports, or clubs, or even just a shared class.
And yet, as much as Jungkook threw himself into every possible extracurricular activity he could find, the other kids seemed to avoid him, instinctually. While never being outright mean, there was always a sort of weariness he could sense when they drew too close to him.
He’d never known what it meant. And after years of trying everything to change what seemed to be his fate, he finally just accepted it. When he entered high school he leaned into the loner kid vibe, wearing all black, getting piercings, and as soon as he’d turned 18, covering himself with tattoos. He figured if no one wanted to get close, he’d just save them all the trouble and keep everyone away.
But he was so tired. And inside, he ached.
Caught up in his own memories, he hadn’t noticed the tears that had sprung to his eyes until there was a gentle hand wiping them away. He jerked back from the touch, looking up bewildered at the boy in the beanie.
“I know,” the boy said quietly. “It’s a lonely existence, when you’re doing it alone.”
“But you don’t have to be alone, not anymore, if you don’t want to be.” It was Namjoon that was speaking now.
Jungkook lifted his gaze to look at the older boy. Namjoon was smiling softly, warmth emanating from every inch of him, yet at the same time there was a fierceness, a protectiveness that Jungkook could feel, almost as a physical sensation.
He sniffed, trying to stifle his tears and regain some kind of composure.
“But I…”
Jungkook didn’t even know how to put his thoughts into words. Magic? Magic? There was no way.
“Look, I don’t…I don’t really know what all this is, but I’m…I’m not…magic isn’t…” Jungkook was quickly losing the slender thread of rational thought his mind was attempting to spool.
He let out a frustrated sigh and tried to tame the lump that refused to go down in this throat.
“I can’t…I don’t even…magic isn’t real…how can I--”
His babbling was cut off by the boy in the beanie grabbing his hand again and squeezing.
“Hey, Jungkook,” he said lowly, dark eyes fixed right on his, “It’s going to be okay.”
He took Jungkook’s hand and gently uncurled his fingers, so that Jungkook’s palm was left facing up, suspended halfway in the air.
Seemingly, from out of nowhere, the boy produced a single small black feather. The contrast against the boy’s pale skin was stark, and Jungkook couldn’t help but be transfixed as he twirled it between his fingers once, then softly put it down in the center of Jungkook’s palm.
When he looked up, the boy was still staring at him. The intensity made his dark eyes seem almost molten, and yet Jungkook couldn’t look away.
Finally, after what felt like minutes of intense silence, the boys simply said, “Make it float.”
Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but the boy’s gaze made the words evaporate from his lips.
“Yoongi.” Namjoon said quietly. “Is now really the best time?”
The boy, Yoongi, finally broke eye contact with Jungkook, cutting his gaze back over his shoulder to look at Namjoon.
“It has to be now Joon.” He turned back, eyes burning just as intensely as they resettled on Jungkook. “He has to see it, for himself, to know.”
He brought his hand under Jungkook’s open palm, leaving it there for just a moment.
“He can do it, I know you can.” The last part was whispered, just to Jungkook.
Jungkook looked at him dumbfounded.
“How do I…”
“Feel it,” Yoongi replied. “Feel that you want the feather to float. It will.” He said the last part with such conviction that Jungkook had to admit that he almost believed him.
He looked past Yoongi briefly, eyes catching on Jimin, who was sitting just behind Yoongi. Jimin smiled encouragingly and nodded.
Jungkook refocused on the feather. He blew out a short breath. He supposed that his day couldn’t get any weirder, six beautiful strangers declaring that he was magical and now demanding that he make a feather float. Not how he thought his first full day in the U.S. would go. Again, at some later date, he would really need to evaluate the life decisions that brought him here.
Jungkook swallowed, his mouth felt excessively dry. He tried not to chew his lip. Yoongi was still looking at him with the kind of intensity that could melt steel. But instead of feeling intimidated, Jungkook found it strangely comforting. Like Yoongi was pouring all that intensity into him, like some kind of visual transfusion.
“Okay,” he thought. “Fuck it, why not.”
He gazed back at the feather. Trying to summon all of the intensity in his body and concentrate it down into a single thought. Float.
“Float, float, float,” he chanted in his mind. Repeating the word so much that it felt as if it ceased to have any true meaning, and was simply a sound, a beat of a wing, ringing in his mind.
At some point, in his concentration, he must have closed his eyes. And it wasn’t until he heard a collective intake of breath of breath that he even realized. His eyes flew open, and the first thing he saw was Yoongi’s tiny smirk.
“See kid? This real enough for you?”
It took another few seconds for the words to register and Jungkook to drop his gaze down to his open palm. The feather was no longer neatly laying in the center. Instead, it hovered, as if suspended in a gentle wind, roughly three inches above his palm.
“Holy. Shit.” Jungkook breathed.
“Yeah,” Yoongi responded. A smile had broken out in earnest over his face, showing off his gums. “Holy shit.” He reached up and squeezed Jungkook’s shoulder. “Welcome to the club, Jungkook-ah.”