Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

it’s a pretty simple morning. it’s still summer, so it’s sweltering hot. jungkook rummages around for his thinnest shirt, a black tunic that’s still smells like soap and a pair of breeches that cut off at the calf. he sweats easily; he doesn’t want to take another shower so soon. he needs a haircut, because his bangs are starting to irritate his eyes. his mother has already left breakfast on the table for him, a little picnic basket covered with a blue cloth. she, herself, is nowhere to be seen.

jungkook stretches and opens up the basket, inhaling the scent of fresh bread and an entire jar of sweet, handmade strawberry jam. eagerly, he slices open a loaf of bread and spreads the jam, downing it ravenously in one go. there are five other loaves in the basket, all warm and freshly baked.

he sets it aside, knowing that it’ll be finished in the next two to three days if he gets ahead of himself. he doesn’t want the bread to get stale, but he doesn’t want mother to spend too much money on things like bread, either.

his favorite window is open, sunlight pouring through. jungkook smiles and puts the jam away, sealing the lid tight.

jungkook has lived at the top of the tower for nearly all his life. he knows what the outside world looks like; he knows blue skies and white clouds, rainy days and thunderstorms. he knows the green of the grass underneath, even if he doesn’t know how it feels underneath his fingers. he knows that there is a water stream nearby that rushes in the summer and floods in the spring. birds land on his window, and their feathers are always soft to the touch. they’re the first animals to teach him how to do something else other than sit aside and wait. he sings by following their tune; when he touches them, they flitter under his fingers. it doesn’t take long for him to realize that broken legs, broken wings - all of these ailments disappear when he touches them.

he was four. he told his mother, and she told him to hold her hands while he sang. ever since then, jungkook has never seen a gray in between her raven hair.

he doesn’t really remember life before the tower. he’s been here ever since he was a baby, he thinks; there are charts and marks in one of the doorways that has his height over the years. he doesn’t know how to get out of the tower; mother always comes in the morning, before he’s awake, and always leaves after he sleeps. once, jungkook tried to stay awake long enough to see where the door was - not to leave, but rather to just know. he fell asleep before he could wait out much longer, eyelids slipping. jungkook has tried after that, only to fall asleep each and every time.

his mother brings him food and paints and books, other trinkets and anything else he could possibly want. it’s nice - he likes it when mother visits, especially when she runs her hands through his hair and tells him that she loves him. jungkook doesn’t particularly want to leave the tower - he’s happy right where he is. his mother told him horror stories of the world outside, showing him her scars that haven’t disappeared with jungkook’s singing. she tells him of rogues and crooks and people who don’t take ‘no’ for an answer; she shows him books of history, where there has only been bloodshed and senseless fighting. jungkook is perfectly fine in his own tower, thanks.

he likes the wide stone walls that gleam in the morning light. he likes wearing whatever he wants at home and not caring about using shoes - like his mother insists on when she goes outside - or combing his hair or looking particularly presentable. he likes making his own food and singing with birds and reading all the books he could possibly want. he likes painting on the walls and the floor and on the canvases his mother brings him. he’s content here, learning words inside the increasingly advanced books that mother presents him with, sleeping lazily by the window side.

so jungkook lives like this. curiosity may take him from time to time, but it always disappears with something new to do. he doesn’t mind his existence in the tower, nor does he question why he’s always left inside there, nor does he wish to leave.

there’s maybe, only like, one time he wants to leave. jungkook never asks, because he knows his mother will say no; yet still he keeps it in mind, records the dates for that day to come, and paints where his mother won’t see.

other than that, jungkook is fine. he is.

he blows a piece of hair away from his eyes, annoyed. his hair always grows too fast; he has to cut it again soon.

as he finishes off breakfast jungkook grabs a book from one of his extensive bookshelves and heads over to his bed to lie down and read. the sheets are still warm from last night, so he snuggles in and lays on his stomach as he reads. it’s not an informational book, but rather one of the old books that mother brought around for him during his tenth birthday; a book filled with fairytales, pictures drawn by a careful hand. they’re in different colored inks that swiftly cut across the page. often, jungkook will be staring at them rather than the words themselves, marveling over the beauty of art and wondering if he could emulate it.

the walls of his bedroom - on the second floor out of the total three floors that jungkook has access to - are absolutely covered in paint. jungkook has long figured out how to climb the top beams to get to the ceiling; he’s spent countless hours reaching up, twisting his body to paint the ceiling in the numerous shades of blue and indigo; one side of the ceiling is dusky sunset pink and orange, the middle is a lovely hue of blue, and the other side is the inky darkness of the night complete with twinkling stars. there are different things he’s painted over, like the swirl of birds in the sky and kites and, all the way at the bottom where there is the beginning of jungkook’s latest work.

they’re shadowed in a light glow as the morning turns into noon. his mother still hasn’t come yet, but that’s okay - she’ll most likely be here by the evening for dinner.

the book keeps him occupied for a good hour or so. by the time noon is coming around, jungkook is ready to get up and start another lazy day.

that’s when he hears it; a loud, disruptive slam. he stills, looking around wide-eyed his bedroom, wondering if he had dropped anything by accident, but nothing is out of place.

jungkook stands up with his book in his hand, gripped tightly between his fingers. jungkook tiptoes down to the staircase, where he looks down at the bottom floor below. he hears before he sees.

“hello? the hell is this place...” the voice is deep and completely unfamiliar. it sends a terrifying jolt through jungkook’s body. he skuttles back, but not before getting a glimpse of a strange, dark haired stranger. he’s starting to panic, now - who is this? why are they in his house? that’s not his mother, he wants his mother, oh god is this person here to eat him? is he a kidnapper? his mother always told him that there was something like this that could happen on the outside, that people would want to take him because of his gift, but he never thought that they would find him here - mother said that this place was protected!

“hello?” the voice calls out. “anyone here? i know there’s someone living here - what’s this, stairs?”

jungkook freezes. he’s pretty sure he’s sweating a little.

okay, okay, what to do? jungkook would usually have his mother here to take care of things like this, to hold him close and whisper comforting words to him, but she’s not here right now. mother would want him to hide - no, jungkook thinks with a deep, shuddering breath. his mother would want him to face this like anything else she’s ever asked him to face - with courage and a little bit of spunk. like her.

except jungkook doesn’t have courage like she does.

he’s holding the book in his hands, fingers denting the book’s cover. he takes in a breath; he can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. “hello? hey, is anyone - “

there’s no time to think. as the stranger moves into the room with long strides, he doesn’t even bother to look behind him to see if there’s anyone - namely jungkook - standing pressed against the wall. jungkook lets his blind instinct guide him; he throws the book as hard as he can at the person’s head, and with a groan and an unfamiliar, harsh word, the person crumples to the floor in a heap.

there’s a moment of silence; jungkook is breathing harshly, trying to catch his own breath in his throat. he stumbles away from the figure on the floor. he - it’s a he! - is unmoving, dark haired - brown, now that jungkook looks closer - and covered in clothes that jungkook has never seen before. he wants to move forward a little bit, he’s a little unsure of what to do; who is this man? what is he doing in jungkook’s tower? how did he even get in? is he hurt? is he dead? jungkook has never seen a dead person, though he has seen a bird pass away on the comforts of his window ledge before. he wants to get closer, but he’s deathly terrified.

there’s no one here to help him. but he - he managed to do it himself. he - he was the one to stop the kidnapper! jungkook took care of himself, without any help from his mother! he bites his lip, a little pleased, but then he sees something that catches his eye; a spot of red on the floor.

immediately, he panics again. “oh no, no no no,” he whispers to himself, moving forward of his own volition. he recognizes what it is - blood. jungkook has cut himself many times with knives when he spaced off in the middle of whittling or cooking, and he's always had to suffer for it in the days after. he has no idea where the blood is coming from, but he knows that it must be his fault, so he bites his lip and pokes the body.

it moves slightly, but doesn’t turn over. hesitating, jungkook pokes harder this time, and the man turns over so that his face is toward the ceiling. he has a strong jaw and smooth cheeks. jungkook pauses, frowning. he’s never seen anyone else other than the pictures in his books and his mother.

“should i help him?” he asks himself, muttering underneath his breath. what if jungkook gets kidnapped? he doesn’t want to leave his tower. he thinks no, i shouldn’t, but then his gaze catches on the book lying innocently on the side, pages flipped to a random page. he grimaces, guilty, and looks around his room for anything to help.

there’s a couple of strips of cloth he was going to use for dishrags, but he supposes they’re good enough. there’s a basin downstairs, too; jungkook can probably go down there to get some water from the pump that resides beside the bathroom hall. it’ll be a bit of a walk because the basin will be heavy and he’ll have to go up the stairs, but he’s sure he can do it.

now, for the stranger...

jungkook winces as he holds the man by his armpits, struggling to drag him to his bed. with a soft huff, he manages to get the kidnapper on his bed. he sees the source of the blood - a shallow cut on the temple, where the book’s corner must have hit. jungkook fingers it in worry before he catches himself and pulls away.

there are a couple of blood spots on the floor that he avoids gingerly. he’s going to have to clean that up before his mother catches a whiff of it.

jungkook drags the basin to the pump and fills it, also dampening the cloths while he’s at it. his hair gets in the way and he distractedly blows it away from his face.

when it’s done, jungkook ties the cloths around his palms so he’ll have a better hold and looks down with determination. he picks up the basin of water and holds it close, walking sideways and this way and that to get through all the doors. he finally manages to get to the staircase, where he takes a break to catch his breath before starting again.

by the time he gets the water to his bedside he’s a little bit tired. jungkook wipes the sweat from his forehead and unwraps the cloth strips from his hand. he wets them slightly in the water basin and leans forward to dab at the stranger’s forehead. he can’t heal the other, because he’s probably unconscious now. jungkook doesn’t think he has any bandages left, so after the blood has been wiped away and the water has a tinge of pink, jungkook leaves the stranger alone and heads to clean the spots on the floor.

as he’s scrubbing hard at the wood, he thinks of his mother. oh god, how she’ll be so happy to see that he’s fended off a kidnapper! maybe...maybe if mother sees this, she’ll let jungkook go see the lights that always appear on his birthday. he’ll prove to her that he can take care of himself just fine (despite the fact that he was scared out of his mind up there - that fact does not matter, all that matters is that he stopped the kidnapper in his tracks!) and that she doesn’t need to be worried so much about him. of course, he doesn’t want to leave his tower forever - just for a day to see what he wants to see.

it’s already past lunch, so he knows she won’t be coming until dinner. jungkook prepares everything in his head beforehand, hope growing in his chest.

he doesn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the hour, too nervous with the stranger to actually relax and do anything productive. he tries cooking but it just results in a burnt pot - he hasn’t burnt a pot since he was ten years old. he tries painting but nothing seems to look nice. he’s always checking back into the room, hiding behind a corner, but the stranger is unmoving and still.

eventually, jungkook heads to his bookshelves and checks the very top shelves - informational books he doesn’t read often - and searches all of them for medical texts. he finds a couple of them and sets them all in a pile. a lot of them have words and terms he doesn’t understand, but he can gleam a couple of things as afternoon sets in; the wound should be cleaned well so it can heal, and he should check if the man can talk and speak and understand words afterward, in case his brain is damaged. jungkook hopes he didn’t damage the stranger’s brain. he doesn’t want to be mean.

setting the book aside, he goes back upstairs and decides to use a bit of tape and a spare bandage he managed to scrounge up to keep the wound from getting infected. it’s a pretty shallow cut, after all.

jungkook sits down on the stool beside the bed and dips a cloth into the water again, pressing it over the stranger’s forehead. he doesn’t press too hard, in case the guy might wake up, but he also tries to keep everything nice and clean. as soon as he puts the cloth down, he goes for the bandage that he left on the side table. jungkook spreads it neatly on the man’s cut and tapes it well, hoping that it’ll be enough. he had to lean forward to get a good look at what he’s doing, but when he pulls back, he sees two dark eyes staring at him.

jungkook yelps and stumbles, catching himself enough not to fall into the basin but not enough to fall on his butt. he groans, pain shooting up his backside, and the man on the bed makes a strange sound followed by a cough.

the stranger leans forward and wipes a hand down his face, looking around. jungkook shifts back, behind the basin of water he’s kept in his room - the water now warm - and wonders if he should get something sturdier than a book. a frying pan, maybe.

“where the hell ‘m i,” the man slurs, wincing and putting a hand to his head. “damn, ow.” he surveys the room and his eyebrows only go farther and farther up, until they’re nearly touching his hairline - bangs pushed away by jungkook earlier to tend to his cut - and finally, his eyes settle on jungkook. “who’re you?”

jungkook freezes up, not knowing what to say. should he tell the other that he’s the reason why he’s injured, or should he tell him his name, or should he -

“are you okay,” the man snorts, before wincing. “shit, ow. what is this headache?”

jungkook startles at the unfamiliar word and at the stranger leaning over to pat his head. slowly, still from his side of the room, he asks, “are - are you okay?”

“yeah, i’ll be fine a couple of minutes,” he says, a little short. then, he pauses. “did you - did you fix me up? i feel a bandage here.”

wordlessly, jungkook nods.

“the hell, kid, why are you all the way over there?” the man scowls.

jungkook warily looks him up and down, trying not to let on how afraid he really is. he can totally do this. you knocked this guy out before, jungkook, you can do it again, he says to himself. “you...you’re not going to kidnap me, are you?”

there’s a moment of silence, before, “why the hell would i kidnap - doesn’t it seem like you’re the one who kidnapped me? i’m in - is this your room?” he looks around. “jesus fuck.”

jungkook frowns, suddenly defensive. “y-you’re the one that came into my house. what else was i supposed to do?”

“do? wait - did you knock me out?”

jungkook flushes and that’s all that’s needed for an answer.

the stranger opens and closes his mouth, half surprised and half bewildered, and jungkook cuts in, “you were coming into my room! what else was i supposed to do?!”

“i wasn’t going to fuckin’ kidnap you, i don’t even know who you are!” the stranger snorts, rubbing his head. “damn, forget that, i don’t even know where i am!”

with that, jungkook steps a bit closer, toeing aside the cloths on the floor into a pile. “are you...telling the truth?”

there’s a moment of quiet, and then, “i swear, kid, my intentions aren’t untoward, alright? i was just...running from someone and i ended up here, i guess. i have a vague memory of finding this place...would’ve remembered more if i didn’t get knocked out.”

jungkook fidgets; he supposes that’s a good enough response as any. he’ll keep an eye on this guy to make sure that he’s not here to pack jungkook up and ship him off to bad guys, but for now, jungkook thinks he’s okay. “sorry,” he offers. leaning down to push the basin aside. “i was scared.”

the stranger sighs. “can’t be helped; i guess i did break in,” he admits. “i’m suga. who...the hell are you?”

“jungkook,” he says plainly. “this is my tower. are you...from outside?”

“i’m from daegu, if that’s what you’re askin’,” suga responds. he swings his legs over the side of the bed and jungkook steps away with the movement. suga notices this with a raised eyebrow. “but i live in the capital city now. should be a couple of kilometers away, if i’m right.”

“capital city?” jungkook asks, clueless. “there’s a city nearby?”

“well, yeah,” suga answers, taking in jungkook’s wide-eyed wonder. “what, you can’t see it?”

“i’ve never been outside,” he confesses, continuing to step back every time suga steps toward him. jungkook thinks that maybe he should go downstairs or something.

“never been...what the hell? how can you have never gone outside?”

jungkook shifts, uncomfortable with the man’s tone. “i just...never have. i like it in here.” whenever he looks out the window, he doesn’t see anything else but the tops of trees, roving fields of forest for miles.

“you mean to tell me that you’ve been living in here, by yourself, for who knows how many years? how can someone live like that?” suga asks, incredulous. he winces when he moves to fast, pushing a hand on his head.

jungkook glares. “i live here with my mother! and i don’t need anyone else other than her; she’s always told me that everyone outside of these walls would try to hurt me. so i’m not going outside - not now, not ever.” jungkook ignores the little part of him that yearns for the grass underneath his feet, the sun on his legs. “and once you feel better, you can leave too.”

accidentally, jungkook bumps into a drawer full of his underclothes. he winces as a sharp pain shoots up his side. he had kept on moving because suga had been coming steadily closer and closer to him. he takes a deep breath, realizing that his previous words are true; he’ll always have to see the lights from afar. eventually, he’ll have to let this man go, because he means jungkook no harm, and therefore jungkook had hit him without purpose. his mother would probably berate him, not praise him.

“i’ll leave right now, then,” suga shoots back, eyebrows raising to his hairline. “i don’t need to stay around some recluse kid. point me to the exit and i’ll be on my way.”

“the...exit?” jungkook repeats slowly.

“yeah,” suga says testily, “where is the door to get out? i came in through a flight of stairs, and i went through a door, but that’s all i really remember before i got knocked out.”

“um,” jungkook says faintly, “i don’t know.”

here’s a moment of silence before suga gives a disbelieving laugh. “you’re - you’re shitting me, right?”

“i don’t know where it is,” he insists. “i’ve never been outside.”

at that point, suga stops. a strange look crosses his face. “you...don’t know where the door is? how can you go outside if you felt like it?”

“i don’t,” jungkook murmurs. he winces and rubs his shoulder.

suga opens his mouth to say something, but then a the sound of his mother’s voice cuts through the air, clear and sharp. “jungkook? jungkook, sweetheart, where are you?”

jungkook’s eyes widen. his face twists into one of horror. he looks around his room desperately; a moment later he covers his mouth and yells, “i’m changing upstairs in my room, mom! give me a second!”

“alright, sweetheart, i’ll be in the kitchen,” his mother’s voice calls distantly. thankfully suga has the smarts to not say anything and step back; jungkook reaches forward and grabs at his wrist, tugging him insistently toward his large armoire. “stay here,” he hisses. “just for a moment, until i go downstairs. then you can get out and do whatever you want, okay? she’s going to be here until she falls asleep!” his mother’s routine is well known to him, and rarely changes.

“what, can’t i just ask your mom how to get out?”

jungkook pales. “no, no - she can’t know you’re here.”

“wh - “

jungkook’s hand around the man’s wrist tightens for a moment. “please, i’ll be in trouble if she knows you’re here.” he doesn’t want to think about what might happen if mother knew a strange man is in his room.

suga pulls away and says, “alright, fine,” with a suspicious look on his face. still, he heads into jungkook’s armoire in between his other shirts, tunics, and pants, and that’s enough for jungkook. he leaves the door open and takes out a spare pair of clothes to change into, quickly messing up his hair to make it seem like he just woke up from a long nap. jungkook yawns as he goes downstairs, footsteps purposefully loud so suga can hear. “mom, you’re home!”

his mother is a beautiful young woman, perhaps in mid or late twenties. her hair is black and long, pulled at the nape of her neck, skin flawless and smooth, eyes sharp and a pale brown. she smiles and puts a hand on jungkook’s cheek; she’s quite a tall woman, only a little bit shorter than him. “look at you; did you have a nap, by any chance?”

“i did,” jungkook confesses, smiling into her palm. “i slept for a long time, sorry, i was so tired from laundry today...”

“that’s alright, sweetheart,” his mother laughs. “i’m quite tired myself; spent a while riding through the city trying to finish up business. well, it’s all done now - how would you like stew for dinner? i’ll make your favorite, since we have the bread today.”

“okay,” jungkook agrees. he temporarily forgets about the man in his closet, engulfed in his mother’s affection.

for the most part, he’s a little antsy at the knowledge of suga upstairs while his mother is here, but he’s resolved not to let it bother him. he chats amiably with his mother as she pats him on the cheek, stirring the stew in the meantime. it is, indeed, one of jungkook’s favorites, so he digs into it happily while he eats, letting the thick broth calm him down a little.

his mother yawns after she’s finished her first bowl. “oh my, jungkook, mom is tired - she’s going to go sleep, okay? you clean up here, sweetheart.”

“okay,” jungkook is quick to answer. there’s been a sort of nervous bubbling in the back of his head that reminds him he still has another mouth to feed. “i’m taking another helping, mom!”

“go ahead, sweetie, eat up.” she ruffles his hair before grabbing her coat - hanging on the back of a chair - and heading to her room, which isn’t upstairs like jungkook’s but rather a large room on the side branching off from the living room. jungkook used to sleep in one next to hers, but he wanted a better place for his paintings.

jungkook ladles stew into a bowl and takes a loaf of bread and a glass of water, balancing it all in his hands in a familiar manner as he walks up the stairs to his room. to his surprise, suga isn’t in the closet anymore, but rather, sitting on jungkook’s desk. his head is slumped against one of the medical texts.

jungkook sets down the food next to him, carefully moving aside his personal belongings so they wouldn’t get damaged, before looking at the man before him. hesitantly, he reaches out to shake him awake.

it takes a while, and jungkook almost thinks that suga is unconscious or - or something worse - but then the brunette gets up, groaning and cursing, and jungkook knows he’s okay. “suga,” jungkook whispers, the word unfamiliar in his mouth, “here. food helps you get better.”

suga blinks at him tiredly for a second, then his eyes catch onto the food left on the desk beside him. his face does something odd, like he’s not sure whether to be a little weirded out or thankful, and he takes a the spoon jungkook brought him and digs in, not bothering to take the chopsticks he’s set aside either.

jungkook, meanwhile, scratches the back of his head and looks around his room. he can explain away the basin as washing up his room, but where will suga sleep? jungkook doesn’t know the way out of the tower, never has. from what suga said, there must be some way up through a flight of stairs, but jungkook has never witnessed it. his mother always pops in at her desire by magic. tomorrow, jungkook thinks, tomorrow is another day she’ll be gone for the most part, so maybe - ? maybe suga would be able to find some way to get out?

he can ask his mom, maybe if she would - no. jungkook doesn’t know why, but he feels uncomfortable at the idea of telling his mother that someone managed to find him. despite her sweet countenance, she’s very overprotective of him. she wouldn’t listen to any of his explanations before doing something unkind to suga, and jungkook has already done something unkind to suga.

jungkook bites his lip and takes out an extra blanket from inside his armoire, folding it over until it’s a warm and thick rectangle on the floor. it’s smaller than his own bed, but it’s good enough for someone to sleep on comfortably. this is his winter quilt, the one he made himself and stuffed with sheep wool, so it’s thick and warm and comfortable. jungkook sniffs it and it smells like vanilla and old pine, like most of his clothes. he smooths it down when he looks up and realizes that suga is staring at him.

“what are you doing?” the other asks, raising an eyebrow.

“it’s for you to - sleep,” jungkook says, tripping over his words. he forgets that there’s someone else here, now. “i didn’t think you’d want to sleep on the hard floor.” jungkook was planning to give him one of his many pillows, too, just for the night.

“no, i - “ suga shakes his head. “nevermind. i was going to try and find a way out, but...”

“my mom will wake up if you do that,” jungkook tells him seriously. “and she can’t know you’re here.”

suga purses his lips. “yeah, why is that, kid? maybe she can actually help me out of here. i got things to do,” he taps a finger on his knee. “people to see.”

“mom won’t help you if she sees you,” jungkook says, eyes wide. “she’ll kill you.”

at this, suga’s spine stiffens. he looks at jungkook’s wide-eyed expression of seriousness, but only manages a cough. he can’t imagine this kid - who has been pretty much the epitome of a small child in a teenager’s body - saying something like that with such a determined expression. he chuckles a little. “ah, hell, i’m sure she’ll understand if it’s just an accident - “

“mom is really protective,” jungkook cuts in, shaking his head. “she won’t. i’ll help you find someway to get out, but tomorrow, okay?” jungkook’s eyes flicker to the wound of suga’s head, and a pang of guilt hits him again.

suga says nothing. jungkook leaves a pillow on the floor and heads to the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth before bed. when he comes back, suga has already settled into the blanket-bed, on the other side of jungkook’s bed so that it can’t be seen from the stairs. jungkook takes the dishes and sets them in the sink downstairs before heading up.

before he settles into his own sheets, he leans over to check if the stranger is awake or not. suga is sleeping on his side, boots off, chest falling up and down easily, jungkook supposes he must have been more tired than he thought. he wonders how much of that exhaustion was from the wound earlier today. after a moment, realizing how creepy he must seem, jungkook settles into his pillows and closes his eyes, shutting off all the lamps and lights, hoping that sleep will come soon.

/

in the morning, his mother is already gone. she leaves a note on the table saying, i’m going to be far off for a while, sweetie, to talk to some people. mom will be back in five days. i’ve left enough food for you to last a week, okay? eat well, sleep well! love you! along with a little flower that tells him that his mom had left it for sure. jungkook puts the flower in a random vase and saves the note, looking at their pantry and realizing that yes, he does have quite a bit more food than he did before. he wonders if there’s any salted meat, too, because he doesn’t want to go without it, but he’ll check for that later.

jungkook looks around the rooms of his tower. suga came in through the main rooms, so there’s no way there could be a door in the bathroom or the water room or the kitchens or - any place like that. jungkook tries to imagine some type of door, some secret stairway that he’s seen in countless books, but nothing seems to pop out to him. their walls are covered in paint (jungkook’s handiwork) or other things, like scrolls and mirrors and shelves. he can’t see anything here.

so as to not make himself frustrated, jungkook starts making breakfast for himself and one more person. thankfully, his mom knows he eats a bit more than she does, so her version of jungkook’s food lasting a week should be the same as having enough food for two for a couple of days. jungkook makes oatmeal, using the last of the milk and sugar for it, knowing that there’s probably more in storage somewhere. his mom uses some charm or spell to keep cold things cold in their pantry.

somewhere, in the midst of it, he starts singing. it’s just something he does - next to painting and drawing, he likes singing. it fills the rooms with something other than empty space. jungkook doesn’t really expect anyone else but his mother to listen to his singing. she loves it when he sings. sometimes, she dances around the room, long forgotten dances of people of the past, her skirts whooshing by her. jungkook will sing of cosmos and she’ll move like flower petals in the wind. he’ll sing of the sun and she’d laugh her husky laugh, patting him on the head to tell him what a good boy he is.

as he finishes up two bowls, jungkook turns around to see suga standing at the edge of the steps. he stumbles back and crashes into the countertop - thankfully, he’s not too hurt. “what are you - can’t you make noise?!”

suga’s expression flickers. it looks a little bit like a smile. “no, i really can’t. comes with the job.”

jungkook frowns. before he can query on this man’s supposed profession, suga languidly walks over and looks at the bowls on the table. “is one for me?”

“yes,” jungkook says, a little bit shortly in his awkwardness. he hands the other man a bowl and a clean spoon, motioning to the table, before taking his own bowl to sit by the window. he grabs a handful of nuts as he goes. he doesn’t notice suga watching him move to the window, curious as to what he’s doing.

jungkook opens the windows and settles the nuts, crushed from his palm, on the ledge of the window. the height from the bottom of the tower to his window doesn’t faze him. he doesn’t wish to tip over and gaze at the bottom, not anymore. jungkook crosses his legs and lets the sun warm his face. the birds will come, he knows.

it’s easy to forget that there’s someone else in the room like this, leaning against his window ledge and calmly eating his breakfast. it’s easy to forget someone is with him because jungkook has been alone for so long, and the quiet just reminds him of the loneliness. it’s not like it’s a harsh feeling, either, just a curious slither over his shoulders, the curious reminder that he’s more often than not left to himself.

“you could fall out,” suga’s voice says, and jungkook turns to him. he’s not focused on his breakfast at all. there’s a large amount of space between them, but jungkook feels like he’s closer than he’s supposed to be. “ever think of that, kid?”

“i won’t fall,” jungkook replies, giving him a strange look. not once had he ever fallen over. not once has he ever tipped over the edge. the birds start to clamor on the window ledge, nitpicking at his nuts, and jungkook smiles at them. leaning down, he whispers, “hello there.”

the bird he has in question is a familiar one; brown with a red underbelly, it’s shape thick and full instead of sleek like most others. he extends a finger and whistles, low and sharp, and the bird looks up at him with a twitch of it’s head before gripping onto his finger with tiny feet. jungkook takes the bird inside, absentmindedly spooning oatmeal into his mouth, tracing a finger down the back of the bird’s head and back. the bird shakes, ruffling its feathers, enjoying jungkook’s touches.

he has a sudden thought. he looks up and smiles. “would you like to hold her?”

suga, looking out of place in jungkook’s house and home, simply gives him a look. “i’m not the bird holding type.”

a frown appears on jungkook’s face. “oh,” he says, feeling a little sad for the stranger. he can’t imagine what the other must have gone through in his life not to be a bird holding person.

he sets the bird down on the ledge, but it seems too attached now. she tweets and then flies up to jungkook’s head, where she nests in his hair, picking once at his head. it’s a gentle little pluck, so as to let him know that she means him no harm. jungkook reaches up to pat her tiny head, and she chirps again.

“what the hell,” suga says, incredulous, as he sees the little bird on jungkook’s head.

“she’s just feeling playful,” jungkook explains. “if you want to hold her, she won’t mind. she likes being touched.”

“i - no,” suga splutters, still staring at his head. jungkook shrugs. he finishes the rest of his oatmeal and sets it in the sink, washing it with the rest of the dishes from last night. suga has barely touched his food, but jungkook will leave it out there for as long as he needs to eat.

after a moment, jungkook wipes his hands dry on a towel, and suga rubs at his head. “look, i don’t know why you’re being this - nice,” he finally admits to a bewildered jungkook, as if spitting out an answer to a question that wasn’t even asked. jungkook pauses in his quest to retrieve a book to read. “you’re acting like we’re best friends, or something, when we just met yesterday. shouldn’t you be more cautious, kid?”

“well, didn’t you say you weren’t here to kidnap me or hurt me?” jungkook thinks back to yesterday: yes, those were the man’s words. “so why should i be worried? ah, if you need help finding an exit, i can help you, but mom is going to be gone for five days. i was going to start after lunch.”

suga stares at him, eyes slightly narrowed. he gives a little disbelieving chuckle. “do you always believe the things people tell you straight away?”

jungkook shrugs. “shouldn’t i?”

suga obviously has nothing to say to that, by the way he stays quiet. jungkook looks at his bowl. “if you’re not hungry, i can take that back.”

“no, i’ll finish it,” the older sighs.

with a nod, jungkook points at his bandage. “i need to change that when you’re done. i’ll be upstairs.”

he ends up with one of his fairytale books again to read. jungkook trails his fingers over the words, the picture of a grand dragon swirling over a tiny girl, protecting her from all that seeks out to hunt her. jungkook wonders if he can paint a dragon on his walls, if he can bring it to life just like the pictures in his book can.

jungkook sometimes wonders - secretly - about the outside world. he has no strong urge to go beyond his castle walls, but he still wonders. he convinces himself that the curiosity inside of him is a locked up entity, something that doesn’t exist with great urgency. he thinks that if he can be content with what he has - summer days and spring days and the beautiful days in between - then there’s no need for him to want something more. grass underneath his feet. sun on his body. submerged in water as he swims down a river or an ocean. jungkook doesn’t need those things. (he may want them, but need - there is no need.)

jungkook closes the book and looks at the time on the wall, clock ticking away slowly. he heads over downstairs, where he sees suga moving along the walls, feeling his hand for something there. jungkook’s eyes flicker to the table, and he notes that there’s no dirty dishes there.

suga looks intensely into what he’s doing, so jungkook lets him do so for a moment, standing at the top of the stairs. he thinks that no one has noticed him when suga snorts and says, “want to come down anytime soon?”

jungkook startles and flushes, stepping down the rest of the way. to distract attention away from that embarrassing moment, he asks, “what are you doing?”

“i remember a bit more from yesterday,” suga says non-committedly. “there was a hidden door here, somewhere. i remember it was this wall, because i turned around when the door shut, so...something must be a switch here.”

jungkook frowns. “i think i would have known if there was a secret doorway,” he says a little stubbornly.

suga snorts. “with the way you’re so subservient at home, i wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t.” he licks his lip and with bright eyes, looks to the end of the wall, where one of the lantern holders are. he reaches up and grips the base. “this is the only other one on this wall, and usually in stories you hear these things being a book on a shelf or - “ he yanks the lantern holder attached to the wall with one firm movement, and jungkook maves an aborted move to stop him - that’ll break something! - but then the holder simply...moves down. like a lever.

almost immediately, there’s the sound of something rumbling and shifting, though it’s not very loud. right before jungkook’s eyes, he watches a portion of the wall move away - the wall he had painted the mountain scenery on - to reveal a dark, empty staircase.

a jolt of fear strikes him so deeply he stumbles back.

suga, however, is victorious. “fuck yes - i still got the knack for escapes. see, kid, i told you - “ he stops short at the look on jungkook’s face.

never before has suga ever seen someone look so terrified.

jungkook steps back from the open door. that’s - that’s the door outside.

he’s never been outside. he’s never stepped foot on the grass, or ran his hands through the creek, or climbed up a tree. and the outside - the outside - is a place that he’s never ventured to. to jungkook, it’s untouched land, unventured waters. and jungkook - jungkook is scared of drowning. he’s heard too many stories, too many tales of people doing horrible things. using the world as their own personal resource plant to do whatever they wish. people will hurt you, his mother whispered to him, long ago, words now burned into his memory, people will hurt you and try to make you do things you don’t want to do. but here, my baby, you’re safe. you’re safe.

jungkook swallows and looks away. now he knows how to escape, but it doesn’t feel like escape - it feels like a black hole he doesn’t want to touch.

“you have your exit, now, congrats,” jungkook says, shuffling back, hoping that suga doesn’t notice. “will you leave now?” he was planning on fixing up suga’s bandage; it must have been soaked with old blood.

suga lingers by the doorway. yes, it’s true, he wants to leave. yes, he’s been a little adamant about leaving, but now that he looks back on this boy, knowing that he’s going to be all alone in this big, looming tower doesn’t sit right with him. in fact, the entire thing didn’t sit right with him from the beginning - who the hell lives in the same four walls for their entire life? suga would go stir crazy. but he wasn’t jungkook, and looking at the younger’s face now, it’s easy to see that he’s scared of leaving his home.

and in that - that just reminds suga of how...lonely he must feel.

he scratches the back of his head. “you know, you don’t have to stay here,” he starts slowly.

jungkook blinks. “what are you saying? of course i have to stay here! my mom is coming back in a couple of days, and i have to clean and do laundry before it starts getting really bad - “

“i mean,” suga interrupts, shifting uncomfortably, “you’ve always been stuck in this tower, right? never gone outside? now you know the way out. you could...leave whenever you wanted. why stay?”

why stay?

jungkook looks around his home. here are all the things that have remained with him since he was young. the armchair his mother sits in during the winter to brush his hair and sleep. the fireplace he keeps stoked well. the autumn leaf wreath he made as a kid; the pottery collection; the candles, the books, the mirrors, everything has been touched by him in some way. the walls are his own, a mosaic of all his feelings and dreams put in color. how could jungkook leave?

“my life is here,” jungkook replies in the end. “this is all i know.”

suga looks at him intently. he opens his mouth before closing it in something like reluctance. then, “you could come with me.”

jungkook blinks at him, wide-eyed.

“i know my way around a couple of cities,” suga continues, looking like he himself doesn’t know why he’s offering. “look, there’s got to be someplace you want to go to, somewhere not here. how can you live your entire life in one room?”

jungkook feels his mouth tremble. the enormity of this decision is not lost on him. he thinks of bravery, courage, like his mother...and eventually -

“no, i’m sorry,” jungkook shakes his head, choosing rather to stay in his bubble of safety than leave. “it was nice meeting you, suga.” with that, he turns and runs up to his room, probably so he won’t have to see suga leaving - or hear him trying to drag jungkook out of his tower.

suga stays still at the doorway. his wound feels long healed. the tissue is probably starting to heal over. the brunette looks at the open doorway once, knowing that it’s the way out, and sighs. he leans over to close the doorway by righting the lamp holder to it’s proper position. just like that, the door closes.

suga doesn’t know why he’s staying. he’s got a job to finish, especially with the kind of employer he has - the demanding, waiting type. he’s got the rest of the month to finish it, sure, but he kind of wants to get it over with so he can take a break and maybe get some sleep time. though, he has to admit...being in this tower isn’t half bad. it’s clean, even if it’s cluttered, and the mess is an organized mess. there’s always food and suga has definitely slept in more awful places.

despite all that, what he’s really staying for is the kid that both knocked him out and woke him up.

he doesn’t know why he feels guilty, or why he feels so determined to help this kid, but - but that look of fear on his face shook suga to the core. no one should be afraid like that, especially not by something as simple as leaving. it makes suga think that there’s something definitely more fucked up here than at first glance.

and maybe...maybe he’s always had a soft spot for lost kids like that.

he curses. why did he offer to take the kid outside? internally, he knows it’s because he thinks that - it might be good for him. the sun, the sea, the forest - the kid looks like he belongs there, instead of cooped up in here with the colorful walls. he sits on the window ledge, saying that he’ll never fall over, but looks like he wants to jump out and fly, anyway. maybe that’s why suga’s doing it. that look of wistful wanting on his face, even if he himself didn’t know it...it reminded suga too much of himself, small and dirty and ragged, looking out the window at a big blue sky and hoping for something more.

he clunks his way loudly into jungkook’s bedroom and catches the younger up in the boards, curled with his arms around his knees, face buried. suga glances up at him and yells, “how the hell did you get up there so fast?”

jungkook startles, not expecting that voice to interrupt him. he thought he would scrub off today’s and yesterday’s memories by painting on the wall - a little brown spot he’d been saving for a day like this - but instead, he found himself leaning against the pillar, completely drained of energy. his limbs still tremble a little from the knowledge of the door. jungkook wipes at his eyes and pretends that there’s nothing coming out of them when he untangles himself and sits on the beam so that his feet are hanging off the side. “what are you doing here, suga?”

“call me hyung, kid, i’m older than you,” suga grumbles, crossing his arms. “didn’t you say you were going to change my bandage? and i’m kind of hungry, when are you going to make lunch?”

jungkook wipes at his face again, frowning down at him. “breakfast was just a while ago!”

“yeah, well,” suga shrugs. he points to his bandage pointedly. “you gonna take care of this or what?”

jungkook wants to ask: aren’t you leaving? but finds that the words are stuck in his throat. “i’m coming, give me a minute.” deftly, he works his way down to the bottom of the room, where suga is. jungkook motions for him to sit on the chair near his desk while he himself goes and retrieves what he needs from the small top drawer of his night table.

jungkook sits cross-legged on the desk itself so that he can see the wound from a better angle. he peels away the tape and runs his fingers over the wound, which looks worrying, but at least it’s not bleeding anymore. jungkook traces his fingertips across the cut, unaware of the shiver that runs down suga’s back when he does so, setting the bloody bandage aside. he fingers the new bandage for a moment, but in the end goes for the wet rag to gently dampen the skin around the cut.

“i think you should leave it open now, to dry out and heal,” jungkook offers. he’s walking in this blind, but it seems like the right thing to do. his mom never let him keep a bandage on for more than a day or two when he scraped his knees. “it’ll scar over and disappear.”

suga grunts. jungkook disposes of the bandage and sets the other things away. he’s left wondering of the situation they’re in now - what will suga do? didn’t he say he was going to leave?

while jungkook is thinking about these things, suga looks up at the vaulted ceiling, covered by beams. he wonders how many of them has jungkook’s footsteps. then he looks at the ceilings, nearly covered in paint. each inch is done with extreme, careful detail; it looks like a lifetime of work in one room. there is the night time sky with all it’s constellations, and then a landscape of pinks and blues for a sunset, the bright, crystal blue day. there’s the sun spinning across the skyline and mystical creatures following it, a dancing boy moving with the wind - a figure suga can only guess is jungkook himself. the colors are bright, vivacious, fluid. he finds his eye caught by it all despite himself.

“your paintings are nice,” is what he says, even though he feels stupid saying so. they’re so much more than just nice.

“you think so?” jungkook asks, and his voice sounds different - shy. “i keep adding to them when i want to. little things that i see all the time, really.”

suga blinks. he can see that image: jungkook, pressed close to the wall, tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration, painting a line tenderly with his fingers. he’s got light fingers, after all.

turning around, the brunette asks, “what do you do here anyway, all by yourself?”

“a lot of things,” jungkook replies, a little bit defensive. “everything and anything. there’s a lot to do. after the cleaning and laundry and stuff, i have to make candles for the nighttime, and then there’s the pottery for pots...washing up mirrors and dishes...mending clothes...every day there’s something to do,” jungkook lists off the chores in his head out of order, all of them coming back to him one by one. he looks at suga, noting that he’s been wearing the same shirt, pants, and jacket for the last couple of days. he’s even wearing shoes on his feet. jungkook stares at them for the longest time. he’s never really worn shoes.

if suga is staying for a while longer... “do you need your clothes washed?” he asks.

suga looks down at his choice of raiment: there are stains from dirt and sweat all over, as well as grass stains and the general feeling of uncleanliness. he looks up at the kid who offered. “uh, well.”

“i can wash them for you,” he adds. “i don’t like having dirty things around, so.”

suga snorts; implying that i’m dirty. well, he kind of was, so...

“you got any spare clothes, then?”

jungkook gets out a long shirt - one of his favorites - and a pair of comfortable cotton pants. he takes the folded squares and hands them to suga. “i don’t have shoes, sorry,” jungkook apologizes. “i can draw you a bath if you need one.”

“that...would be nice, actually,” suga admits, and for the first time here, his mouth pulls up in a little smile. he didn’t think he would be softening up to the kid, but then when jungkook smiles back, small and bright, his heart gives a startlingly loud thump. suga blinks in confusion while jungkook leaves to draw the bath.

something about the way jungkook trusts so easily makes it hard for suga to leave him. he finds himself fond of the kid, reminding suga of some of the younger ones back from when he himself was a teenager, looking out for those aforementioned children. jungkook has this childishness to him, this ability to believe anyone and anything wholeheartedly that makes suga want to just...keep away from bad things, for a while.

he looks up and gazes around the room once more. he thought it looked like an entire life of work in here; that’s because it probably is an entire life of work in here. jungkook says he doesn’t want to leave, but would a kid who doesn’t want to leave paint a picture of the sky in his room? how many nights did he spend here, looking up at his stars, wondering if he could touch them for real?

suga’s hands clench around his clothes. the feeling inside of him is one that he hasn’t felt in ages: pity. sympathy.

jungkook’s footsteps warn him that the younger is coming back. “here, let me show you the bath. you can leave your clothes outside the door, and i’ll wash them.”

suga follows him, making a silent note to himself; he’ll take this kid outside, even if it’s just for a little while. he has a feeling jungkook wants more than this tower.

/

the motions of doing laundry are familiar to jungkook. he situates himself next to the basin of water and puts in a little bit of soap, a little bit of detergent that his mother bought on her last trip to the market. he gets the washboard ready and rolls up his sleeves. jungkook starts drenching the clothes in the water, watching as the bubbles start to soap up and cover his hands up to the wrist. he scrubs it all through thoroughly, watching the water turn brown with dirt.

when he’s done, he sets the clothes in a smaller tub with the same soap and detergent, this time with clean water instead of muddy. he sets the clothes aside and lets them soak. after lunch, he’ll come back to wring them out and put them up to dry.

lunch isn’t big either, just a couple of dumplings and last night’s stew. jungkook gets the dough ready and the filling prepared by the time suga comes out of the bath, drying his hair with a towel jungkook gave him prior.

it’s kind of nice, having someone else here. jungkook loves it when his mother is over to talk to him and keep him company, but in the recent years she’s been very busy with her work and travelling. jungkook has felt a little more than lonely many of those times. right now, it’s nice - the stranger, suga, is becoming less and less like a stranger as he stays longer. while he might not say much and when he does talk, using words jungkook doesn’t always understand, suga is comfortable to be around. he hasn’t done anything to hurt jungkook - hasn’t even tried to kidnap him! the entire thought now makes jungkook embarrassed to recall.

jungkook feels a little giddy, too, because...well, wouldn’t that mean suga is his friend? jungkook never had a human friend before. the animals used to keep him company.

“is this food?” suga sits on one of the chairs nearby, slumping back into it. he rolls his shoulders. “ah, my back hurts.”

“it’s just dumplings,” jungkook says. he puts the filling in another small circle and closes it, pinching the ends. suga watches him as he does it.

“you’re good at that,” he comments. jungkook is fast, quick, and accurate - each one he makes is pretty much the same. suga puts down the towel he has on a spare chair’s back so that it can dry.

“thanks,” jungkook finishes up another one. “do you want to try?”

“me? hell no, i’d just fuck it up.”

“i could teach you,” jungkook offers, holding up a circular cut of dough. “here, it’s not that hard. all you do is fill it in the middle and then fold it over, like this.” one end of the dough goes to the other. “take a bit of water and glue it together. then you pinch the ends like so.” after demonstrating, jungkook presents another perfectly made dumpling in his hands.

suga takes one, feeling a little stupid, but it’s just dough, right? he’s done harder stuff with his hands. fixing broken things, hauling stuff around, stealing -

the dough rips.

suga looks down at it blankly, before he hears a low sound. it’s a bunch of stifled laughter from jungkook, who takes away the dough from his fingers gently and leaves it on the side. “um, practice makes perfect?”

“yeah, no,” suga declines, crossing his arms in an ‘x’ shape. he’d rather sleep. “where can i take a nap?”

“it’s almost time to eat, though,” jungkook reminds him.

true, it’d feel nicer, sleeping with a full belly. suga nods and settles back in his chair, feeling warm and comfortable. there’s a spring breeze coming from the open windows but no bugs, because they’re too high up. jungkook starts humming a little tune underneath his breath, and despite himself, suga tilts his neck to hear it.

he does look content here, suga notes. he looks like he’s done these things a million times, enough so that the motions are muscle memory. jungkook’s gaze catches his for a split second before he looks away, back at all the finished dumplings. there must be enough to feed a couple of people - or two people for a couple of days.

jungkook piles most of them in a bowl and covers them with a towel. he goes and brings out a steamer to work on the rest. as the sounds of the day turning into evening - they’re nearing four o’clock now, past lunch, which neither of them ate - suga finds himself steadily getting sleepier and more tired. being clean has made him realize how nice it is just to lay back and relax. before he realizes it, he’s leaning forward on the table, placing his head on crossed arms, and falling asleep.

/

when suga wakes up, jungkook has finished the laundry, hanging it up on some clothesline inside the water pump room. suga doesn’t see him anywhere. all he sees is a plate covered with another plate and a glass of water in front of him. suga opens it up a little and finds food there, waiting for him.

he takes two and nibbles on them, looking out the window to see that the sun is hanging a little lower in the sky. unbidden, suga’s eyes are drawn to the lantern holder on the far end. one pull, and he’s out.

then he looks at the staircase spiraling up toward where jungkook must be, and he can’t find it in him to just leave like that. after eating until his stomach is somewhat comfortably full, suga heads upstairs. his steps are quiet, just like he’s trained them to be. as he moves up, he hears the beginning notes of unfamiliar songs, a voice rushing in the breeze. there’s no music - no piano, no violin, no guitar, just the sound of lilting words in the breeze. he steps inside jungkook’s room quietly, and sees the younger on the beams once more, legs dangling over the side. there are paint pots next to him, and every once in awhile, suga sees him dip a brush in them before painting on the walls.

he’s working on something unique - a cut off portion of the night sky, small twinkling stars in the middle. there’s a person sitting on the edge of a cliff there, looking off into the distance at the stars. as jungkook hums, singing his songs as he defines the shapes, suga realizes that there’s no way jungkook doesn’t want to leave. some part of him does - or else he wouldn’t be painting himself outside the walls, looking up at the stars.

suga waits until jungkook can see him; the younger stops singing immediately, which he finds is almost a shame.

“do you have a dream?” he asks, looking at the colors that swim across the ceiling.

jungkook looks at him from his position up high, unsure, and suga thinks that it’s an unfortunate thing: that jungkook aims to go for the sky but is bound by buildings.

“i - i have dreams, from time to time,” the other replies, and suga wonders if he’s being slow on purpose. “most of them can be weird - ”

“i had a dream of owning my own house, one day,” suga cuts in. he ignores the warm feeling rising at the back of his neck. “i wanted that more than anything else in the world. that’s what i’m asking - do you have a dream?”

jungkook’s wide-eyed stare reminds suga of an animal that has been cornered. he looks so small in this tower, even though he’s taller than suga himself. the silence reigns for a while longer before he says, a little quietly and a little hesitantly, “i want to see the floating lights.”

the request is vague. suga raises an eyebrow. “the floating lights?”

jungkook points to the picture he was just working on. “every year, on my birthday, the floating lights come. they fill up the sky and - and i want to see them up close.” he reaches over to trace the edges of one of them. “my birthday is in two days.”

suga racks his mind for anything like that. two days - two days? “are you talking about the lantern festival?”

“lanterns,” jungkook breathes, swaying forward. suga is afraid he’ll fall, but he never does. “they’re lanterns? i want to see them.” reluctantly, he bites his lip. “that’s my dream.”

suga thinks it over in his head. “alright. i can take you there. it takes half a day to get to the city from the forest. if we leave tomorrow, we can get there in the afternoon, and then the day after - “ suga stops at jungkook’s expression. “what?”

“you’ll take me?” he marvels. “but - i can’t leave the tower.”

“if you want to fulfill your dream, you gotta take risks, kid,” suga retorts. "besides, isn’t your mother leaving for like, a week? you’ll be in and out before you know it.” suga doesn’t feel right about leaving it like that, but jungkook seems to find some sort of solace in that, so he leaves it be.

“okay,” the younger boy nods, and for all his fear, suga thinks that the desire to be outside must have won him over. “okay, i’ll go.” and then he smiles, wide and bright, eyes crinkling; suga blinks, because the warm feeling has returned to his neck.

/

jungkook has an errant, overbearing feeling of wrongness come over him the moment he agreed to leave the tower. this was his home; was he ready to leave his home? didn’t people who love their home want to stay there? but it’s not like jungkook didn’t love the tower - of course he did! he loved all the nooks and crannies, all the little cracks in the wall, all the paint he’s spent over the years toward filling the gray stone with something more vibrant. but he also wanted...more.

and it is a little selfish. his mother was right, after all: he’s still a kid, gullible, naive, vague. he doesn’t think he’ll be able to make it by himself out there, where all the bad things are said to roam. mother told him lightly of the horrors of outside: the people who sought to hurt others, the sickness, the chaos. in here, he’s safe. but he’s also a bird in a cage.

it won’t be long, he reasons to himself as he’s packing up a satchel full of food and clothing. suga had apparently brought with him a bag that he hid in one of the jungkook’s pots before exploring and getting knocked out. jungkook had never even seen the bag, but he’s pleasantly surprised, he gave suga food for him to fill it up with.

i’ll be back before anyone realizes, he repeats to himself as he’s smoothing out his bed covers. suga has already gone to sleep, and jungkook envies his ability to knock out so easily.

it’ll be okay, he’s telling himself, bright and early in the morning of the next day. suga looks well rested and calm, if not a little bothered by the sunlight. he’s got his bag on, his boots, and his old, dried clothes.

the brunette looks down at jungkook’s bare feet. “no shoes?”

jungkook shifts a little. “no,” is all he says. the weight of the satchel on his back is a little foreign.

suga shrugs. “there’s going to be a lot of walking. your feet might hurt.”

jungkook is used to walking with bare feet, even if it’s the smooth floors of his tower. he shrugs, because what else is he supposed to do? his mother’s already packed away his winter socks.

suga pulls on the lamp-lever, and the same door opens again. a similar pang of fear works its way down jungkook’s spine, like the first time he saw this passageway. suga walks in without qualms, down on the first step. his face is half shrouded by darkness when he looks back up. “you coming or not?”

jungkook’s throat is dry. he’s leaving. he’s actually - leaving the tower.

slowly, he takes a step forward until he’s on the brink. something’s stopping him from going down - whether it be his own hesitance or some supernatural force, he doesn’t know.

at the sight of him, suga sighs loudly - betraying how annoyed he is - before reaching out a hand. jungkook stares it for a moment.

“come on,” he says, sounding bored, and jungkook slots their palms together.

suga’s hand is surprisingly warm for how pale he is. he jerks his arm, sending jungkook stumbling down behind him; they race down the stairs, which seem to go on endlessly, and when jungkook looks back, the door to his tower is closing. he catches a last glimpse before it disappears completely; the sight of the sun, painted on the highest wall.

suga grunts, “hurry up!” at him before working his way down quicker. he’s quite fast, jungkook notes, and it takes a lot to just keep up. they’re covered in the dark except for brief cracks of light through the crumbling stone walls. jungkook is grateful, at the very least, that suga is holding his hand. otherwise, he’d think it was a dream - like those dreams you get where you’re falling without knowing how. suga’s hand is like an anchor.

it seems like forever until they’re at the base of the tower. suga stops abruptly, causing jungkook to crash into his back, but soon he’s pushing at a large door and - jungkook helps, jamming his shoulder against it -

and then it swings open, and light breaks through.

jungkook blinks against it, holding his forearm to his face. he breathes in rapidly to get his breath back from all that running, and it catches in his throat when something sweet and different hits his nose. he puts his hand down.

the world is a different color from down below. somehow, it’s brighter, more vivid. the grass is green and alive, shimmering in the early morning dew. the sky above looks so wide, the horizon stretching past the canopy of tree leaves, illuminated by the morning sun. the sound of water is closer, rushing, full, rapid. jungkook turns his head and sees the waterfall that he’s always wanted to touch, off in the cliffs. suga has already stepped out, boots flattening the flora beneath his feet, but jungkook looms at the doorway.

suga turns around when he notices his companion isn’t beside him. instead of saying anything, though, he waits for jungkook to take the first step.

when he does, jungkook has a strange feeling that he doesn’t want to go back again.

the grass is wonderfully cool underneath him. jungkook’s never felt anything like it before - he’s sure that nothing could recreate the feeling. when he walks, jungkook finds himself to the ground, running across the blades with his palms. wonder streaks across his eyelids and he finds himself coming away with slightly wet palms.

“okay, kid, it’s time to - “ suga is cut off by a gust of air, which is really just the trail jungkook leaves behind as he makes a run for the little lake that sits at the mouth of the waterfall. suga blankly watches him run full speed toward the water, hair flying in all different directions, arms spread wide. he finally ends up at the water’s edge, kneeling down on both knees at the very edge of the water. suga begrudgingly walks up behind him.

“is that fish?” jungkook asks, looking down at the silver, tapered bodies. “i’ve never seen one up close before.” at least, not alive, anyway.

suga pauses behind him. with an odd tone of voice, he says, “there’s turtles in here too. and baby tadpoles - they’ll turn into frogs later on.” he points to each of the organisms when he names them. jungkook looks at the tiny fish again, swimming along in circles, and carefully dips one hand in the water. it feels cool and different; he presses down deeper and the silt of the shore moves underneath his fingertips. he brings his hand up and the fish moves away, quick as a flash.

despite himself, he laughs. “did you see that, suga? did you see that?”

so focused on the new curiosity in front of him, jungkook doesn’t notice when suga kneels beside him. it’s only until there’s one more hand dipping in the water with him does he look at the man next to him.

suga’s voice is gruff when he explains, “you have to keep your hand in the water for a little bit longer. let them come to you.” jungkook watches and follows his example, sticking his hand in the water. sure enough, a small, golden fish swims nearby, nipping at suga’s fingers before moving onto jungkook’s.

“stay still, don’t move an inch. it might feel a little ticklish.”

jungkook does as he’s told, making sure to keep really still. the fish swims up and nudges his fingers, and he can’t help the giggle that spills out of his mouth.

suga steals his hand out of the water shaking it dry, and the fish zips away at record speed. jungkook looks at his fingers, in awe at how it’s just been touched a couple of seconds ago. “alright, we need to get going if we want to get there by the afternoon,” suga says. “it’ll be a long walk. if we had a horse, it would have been better, but...” he shrugs. “plus, first time riders can get pretty hurt on horses.”

“i wanna ride on a horse,” jungkook admits eagerly.

“not after your legs start to kill you,” suga motions toward some direction in the distance. “come on.”

/

jungkook looks down and winces at his feet. it’s been an hour into the woods and he’s already - overwhelmed, so to say.

there’s so many sounds. everywhere he turns there’s something else to catch his attention, another animal creeping in the dark, another movement in the leaves far off. suga tugs on him to go faster sometimes, but jungkook just can’t help but be distracted by everything around him.

the bark on the trees feel rough underneath his palms, and catch skin when he runs his hands down their front. the animals all run from him when he steps by. insects buzz around, crawl on the forest floor, or hang atop flowers or leaves. he’s touching a ladybug slowly with one finger when suga gives an exasperated sigh and tugs at his collar so he can move on.

the only downside to this is the lack of shoes.

suga goes forward confidently, looking like he knows his way through the woods perfectly, and jungkook is left walking behind him to look for guidance. his feet have stepped over uneven terrain, twigs, sharp objects, rocks, and a number of other things. he doesn’t want to look down at them because he’s sure that some part of his feet are hurt, possibly bleeding, but he doesn’t want to slow them all down. his mother is always saying how he’s a little bit of a ditz and his habit of not thinking things through can be bad for him, and now he’s sullen because it’s true.

he manages to forget about the pain long enough for them to go another half an hour. jungkook sighs, because it seems like the bottom of his feet are finally starting to stop hurting, but all of that is foiled by an uprooted tree. he doesn’t watch where he’s going and his ankle twists easily, causing jungkook to fall on his side. he lets out a yelp louder than he wants to, and he sees suga stopping in front of him.

it’s his right ankle; he leans down and rubs at it, wincing when a part of it feels tender. there are scratches all up his ankle to his calves where he’s been walking across thornier brushes, and when jungkook looks at the bottom of his feet, they’re all cut up, dirty, and bleeding.

“fuck,” he hears suga say, coming close to him. “that looks real bad. why didn’t you say something before?” he’s talking about the cuts on his feet.

“they didn’t hurt for a while,” he admits.

suga makes a ‘tsk’ing sound. “that’s because you’re getting numb to the pain. which isn’t good; some of this can be infected. shit, put your feet up here.” he sits on the root and pats his knee; jungkook moves his feet there, feeling a little awkward.

suga moves his foot this way and that, looking at the extent of his injury. he sighs. “yeah, this isn’t going to help much with just my water skin. we’re gonna need to clean this thoroughly and put something on it to help. even then, you can’t walk with that twisted ankle of yours - it’s swelling here.”

“how am i gonna get it cleaned, then?” jungkook frowns. he should have said something earlier - god, he’s so slow sometimes.

suga sighs. “i can’t make you walk here, that’s just asking for it to get worse. there should be a river nearby. c’mon, get on my back.”

“what?” jungkook balks as the other turns around and kneels down in front of him.

“you heard what i said, i’ll just fuckin’ carry you there,” suga snaps.

“um, won’t i be heavy?” jungkook points out. he is taller than suga by a centimeter or two. “and won’t it be hard?” suga doesn’t look like he’s the type of guy to go around carrying cinder blocks for fun.

as if understand his thoughts, suga snorts. “give me some credit - i do some pretty taxing stuff for a living. c’mon.”

jungkook still doesn’t know “what he does for a living”. even still, he lets suga wrap his arms around his neck and put his hands underneath his knees. even though he stands up easily, jungkook notices the way suga takes in a deep breath and hunch over a little.

he worries. “are you sure it’s okay?”

“shut up, kid,” suga grunts, and then he starts walking.

it feels a bit odd, because no one’s ever carried him on their back before - especially not a short, brunette stranger who looks like a breeze can break him half the time. surprisingly, suga lasts a while, carrying him steadfastly without complaint. every time jungkook’s ankle brushes against something, he feels a jolt of pain go up his leg. it’s a good thing he’s not walking, like suga said.

for a while it seems like they’re heading nowhere, walking through thick overbrush and ducking under trees. jungkook tells suga what is in front of him so he himself doesn’t trip. eventually, suga breaks through a thicket of trees that lead to a slightly more open space. there, a couple of meters away, is a long, winding river. it’s fairly wide; it looks like it can encompass a small riding boat but not a ship. the water looks clear, deep, and clean.

suga lets out a breath. “here we are,” he comments, walking them closer to the edge. he sits down first and lets jungkook edge off slightly until he’s able to lean back against a large rock without worsening his injury. carefully observing the still bleeding cuts on jungkook’s feet, suga turns his bad ankle this way and that.

“doesn’t look like it’s a sprain,” he says. “which is a good thing. you might just have to stretch out your ankle a little bit and it should be fine. these cuts, though...you probably shouldn’t look at your feet right now. got any cloth in that bag of yours?”

“ah, yeah,” jungkook reaches into his bag - which he’s probably overpacked - and looks around for the spare clothes he packed. meanwhile, suga fills up his waterskin to the brim and then starts to pour it over jungkook’s left foot; he jerks at the coldness, but suga’s hand holds him firm.

“take out one big piece and a small one,” he orders.

jungkook hands him one of his shirts and a handkerchief he brought. “w-why?”

suga shrugs in response. “hope you didn’t need these.” he rips jungkook’s shirt in one go.

with the handkerchief, suga wipes off the dirt from jungkook’s feet. he works slowly but efficiently, getting into all the cuts and making jungkook wince at the burn. it feels worse than his papercuts, honestly. when he pulls away, he can see a smattering of purple and red on the heel of his foot, just a fraction of all the bruises he’s gotten so far. he’s always bruised easily. then suga works on his other injured ankle, he’s much gentler, rolling around the limb so that the muscle stretches; jungkook holds his breath against the burn until it starts getting better, starts feeling like muscle and ligament working together again. then suga does the same thing for that foot. when he’s done, he goes and wraps both of jungkook’s feet thickly with torn strips of his shirt. it creates a firm padding between the tough skin of his soles and the earth, but it looks kind of odd. jungkook doesn’t comment on how weird it feels knowing that it would be a moot point.

“thanks,” he says in the end, rolling around his ankles once more. suga heaves out a sigh and stretches, leaning back on his hands the other way.

“my debt is paid,” is all he responds with, pointing to the scratch on his forehead that jungkook had taken care of. it’s starting to scab over. it looks like it’ll heal nicely, actually. “if you had trouble with something, kid, you should have just said.”

“yeah, but it was my fault i didn’t bring anything,” he murmurs.

“you don’t have shoes to begin with - something could have been worked out,” suga cuts in straight through jungkook’s arguments. “doesn’t matter - it’s done and over with. we can rest here instead. got something to eat?”

so jungkook pulls out the loaf of bread and suga breaks it in half between them. in between, he cups his hands in the water and drinks from it. “make sure you keep moving that ankle around, or else it’ll get stiff by the time we try to walk again,” he reminds. jungkook does so and pointedly moves his ankle around.

he follows suga’s example and cups his hands in the water, noting how different it is from the waterfall earlier that morning. the river’s water moves quickly, and all the undersea animals move quickly with it. there’s no space in between those quicksilver bodies. the rock that he’s leaning on is probably one of the largest that he’s ever seen in his life. there’s cracks up the side and a layer of soft green moss. there’s a slight breeze that ruffles the leaves like a soft caress. jungkook gets caught up in their movement, staring at the way they ruffle against each other. before, on his tower, they were all shapeless green motions.

there’s a vine growing up the side of one tree. random foliage brushes against the ground as the wind blows it this and that. it’s cool, peaceful, and easy here.

“time to go,” suga says, which - figures, they wouldn’t be staying long.

he helps jungkook get up with a steady grip on his elbow. jungkook ignores the shoot of pain up his leg - he’s felt worse! - and finds some balance on his feet. to his surprise, his ankle doesn’t feel all that bad. perhaps a little awkward from not being used in the last hour or so, but it’s not the crushing pain and snap that he had felt at the time.

“that’s gonna swell, alright,” suga comments, looking down at jungkook’s feet. “but lucky for you, they won’t hurt much more for the time being, c’mon, kid - let’s get moving, yeah? and listen - “ suga gives him a deadly serious look here, staring him straight in the eye, “if you’re hurting somewhere, just tell me, okay? who cares if it’s your fault or my fault or whatever. it’s not gonna do you any good to hold it in.”

bewildered, all jungkook can do is nod.

thankfully, suga is satisfied with this answer. “alright, good. let’s go.” he walks forward first, scratching the back of his neck, but he doesn’t walk too fast and tends to keep one eye on jungkook at all times. it’s a wordless kindness that, jungkook is learning, is very characteristic of suga.

/

at first, jungkook is quiet because of all the new things around him. he’s too busy, too enthralled with the new world around him, to really find anything to say. but he’s a little bit of a curious thing by nature, so when the flowers and the feelings start to become routinely familiar in their walk through the forest, he turns to the next interesting thing.

jungkook bounds up to suga, staring down at his bandaged feet. they don’t hurt anymore, but his soles are a little sore from bruises. all in all, it’s nothing jungkook can’t really handle.

“how did you learn to treat wounds?” he asks.

suga doesn’t say anything for a while, and when he answers, it looks a little put upon. “i’ve just picked up a couple things over the years. used to get hurt a lot.”

“used to?”

“not anymore.”

jungkook blinks and pokes at the spot that was bleeding only a day earlier. “but you got hurt here?”

suga whips around to turn to him, glaring. “that’s because someone knocked me out with a book,” he retorts.

jungkook flushes. “i thought you were a kidnapper!”

“and yet, here we are, you coming with me willingly,” the brunette smirks. “and if i was a kidnapper, would i have gone around asking if anyone was there?”

jungkook is stumped at that. to cover it up, he mutters, “how would i know? i’ve never met a kidnapper before.”

“seems like you haven’t met a lot of people at all.” suga pauses. “ignore that. come on.”

jungkook is only quiet for a moment longer before he’s come over with the urge to fill the silence. odd - he’s never been bothered by silence before, having spent long times in his tower alone with it, but now it’s threatening to be almost stifling. “how did you find my tower?”

suga doesn’t - stiffen, per say, but he does get a little tense. his footsteps fall with a bit more snap. “i was running from something.”

jungkook’s eyes widen. “a monster?”

“what? no.”

“but you said something,” jungkook points out fearfully, looking around them. “is the monster here? were you running from the monster in the forest?”

“there’s no monster in the forest,” suga says, a both incredulous and a tad bit amused. it’s no use, though, because jungkook is already looking around them as if a monster will pop out at any moment, pressing closer to suga’s side.

he lets out a huff of breath. “that’s not true! all the books say that there’s always a monster in the forest,” jungkook says, voice low like he’s spilling secrets. “like the story of minjung and the wolf, and - and prince young-in, when he went out to find his brothers - ow!“ jungkook abruptly stops as he crashes into suga’s unmoving body, rubbing his arm where the collision happened. it aches a little. he steps back a little to gain some space, but that space is quickly invaded.

“stories are just stories, kid,” suga pinches the bridge of his nose, weariness overcoming him in a large wave all of a sudden. he’s still facing forward, but he grabs his water skin and takes a long drink from it. feeling a little bad - the kid probably doesn’t know anything more than his books - suga turns around. “here, take a drink before we get going.”

“i don’t know, i think there’s plenty of monsters in the forest.”

suga freezes. there’s a gloved hand on jungkook’s mouth, a knife on his throat. the killer is pushing back on his head a little roughly, it looks like, enough for the line of his neck to just nick the sharp edge if he so much as breathed too deeply. he’s on his knees, hands in tight fists around the arm connected to the hand on his mouth, but he’s obviously decided not to fight too much.

inwardly, he curses. figures they would caught by an actual kidnapper. the guy behind jungkook is dressed in all black, from his mask to his boots. it would have been hard to pinpoint him from the shadows of the forest.

suga puts his hands up lazily, making sure not to let the other notice how tense he actually is. he glances at jungkook’s glassy eyes and wonders how long the other can keep quiet.

“i ain’t got any fuckin’ money,” he says a little mockingly, “so why don’t you let the kid go?”

the figure tilts his head. “money isn’t the only thing you can give up. what’s that nice smell coming from your bag, hm?”

the food, fuck. he must have been following the both of them for a while. suga’s eyes narrow; he’s aware of the knife in his boot right now, because he hasn’t take it out since his little run in with the tower, but there’s no way he can reach for it now without alarming the other. it’s a good thing that he didn’t take out other important things on their trek through the forest, either, or else he’d be in real trouble.

“yeah, fine,” suga says, shrugging. he can’t give the captor his bag, but jungkook’s bag has most of the supplies - including their first aid kit and other needed things. dammit. “i’ll give you the food, you street rat.”

the figure scoffs. abruptly, he lets go of the hand on jungkook’s mouth and the knife on his throat, flicking it close. jungkook scrambles up and runs so that he’s behind suga, breathing heavily, his face pasty. their mugger rips off his mask and pulls back his hood.

“if i was a real mugger, hyung, you’d be dead by now,” jimin ambles, grinning easily. “why do you have to antagonize everyone?”

suga ignores jungkook’s confused little ‘what?’ from behind him, because his eye is twitching too much. there’s relief, sure, but there’s also a little bit of annoyance building up in him now. in one swift move, as jimin comes closer to give him a hug, probably (what a little shit) suga smacks him on the back of his head hard.

“ow, hyung, what was that for?!”

“where did you come from,” suga deadpans, hyper aware of the warm line of jungkook’s body behind him. shit, the kid is probably freaked out of his mind.

jimin pouts. “i was coming back from a job when i saw you, hyung. just thought i’d have a little bit of fun.”

suga sighs; jimin’s idea of ‘fun’ is something very different from a normal person’s definition of ‘fun’. he can feel jungkook starting to shake a bit behind him, but suga is unsure if it’s from jimin’s scare or from holding up his weight on his feet for so long. “don’t touch him again,” suga commands, holding onto jungkook’s wrist lightly, pulling him forward. jimin opens his mouth and suga cuts him a look. “i’m serious.”

“fine, fine,” jimin waves away. at least he looks a little sheepish. “sorry, cutie.”

jungkook jerks, wide eyed. “um - “

“this is park jimin,” suga says shortly, waving between the two of them. “i work with him. jimin, this is jungkook.”

“just jungkook?”

“just jungkook,” suga affirms. “now come on, we’re wasting time and i want to lie down on a bed already.” he lets go on jungkook’s wrist, fingers running down toward his fingers, noting how the younger suddenly acts like his mouth has been taped shut.

“ahh, you guys are going toward the city? and where did you pick up this cute one?” jimin reaches over to pinch jungkook’s cheek. “hey, you were talking a lot earlier, how come you’re quiet now? hyung isn’t scary~ wait, i’m the hyung here, right - “

“i’m turning eighteen,” is the first thing jungkook says, shuffling behind them. “in a day.”

“oh, happy birthday!” jimin beams. his warmth is starting to draw jungkook out of his shell. suga can’t help but think of how easy it is for jungkook to talk to him, and wonders. “call me hyung, okay? sorry for doing that to you - just wanted to fool around with suga-hyung a little.”

“it’s okay,” jungkook says, smiling back a little, and suga - suga feels a little...odd at seeing jungkook smiling at jimin like that. why is the kid so damn trusting?

“what were you working on?” suga asks suddenly, gathering both of the boys’ attention behind him.

“oh, this and that,” jimin waves his hand, looking sideways at jungkook for a moment. “tedious work things, of course.”

suga realizes, almost violently, that he’s never told jungkook exactly what he does for a living.

he squares his jaw. “yeah, well, let’s get going.”

“can i tag along?” jimin asks, already jumping into step with them. “i lost my horse around here earlier.”

suga peers at him: somehow, it seems like a blatant lie, but he can’t call jimin out on it. jungkook just nods, looking at him worriedly. “will your horse be okay?”

jimin just snorts, like he’s having a joke with himself. “yeah, he’ll be fine.”

his smile makes jungkook wonder if there was ever a horse at all.