#chunky shoes but like why must it add to my weight and make me feel bad? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alilbihh · 5 years ago

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hocus pocus — 2

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pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both.

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 7.2k

You don't really know how you got roped into this.

Maybe you hadn't. Maybe Namjoon drank a luck potion that day and managed to get through to you. Maybe he used one of his manipulative tactics on you that he seems to do to all his customers. ("Or maybe you're soft," you hear Namjoon say. You smack him upside the head).

But it's not all bad. His shop smells like sage and rosemary and butter cookies and something soft all around, so that the edges are safe enough to press against. You wonder if your own store smells this homey to other people.

The whole store is like a library. The walls can barely even be considered walls anymore, stacked from top to bottom with books - most with cracked spines, well-worn pages and a musty smell that spoke of ages long past. No low hanging vines or roses gossiping to the nearby hydrangeas and no Jungkook trotting around in oversized clothes.

There's none of that, but when you close your eyes you can almost feel a gentle breeze, the muted buzz of cicadas, a bird fluttering somewhere overhead, as if you hadn't stepped inside a building at all. Namjoon's store is a different kind of gentle. Like something wise hangs in the air, just out of reach.

There are random items scattered about, and you remember what Namjoon once told you. How his store is dedicated to the lost. Objects that they value most are scattered about neatly. There's an assortment of jewelry and photos and family heirlooms and paintings. You smile lightly at the wedding rings and grimace at the less than decent items. (There are more dildos than one would think).

Sometimes people wander inside without remembering what inclined them to do so, drawn to items they don't remember they'd lost and items they'd been searching their whole lives for. Objects appear without warning, waiting to be found by the lost. It's how Namjoon met Seokjin. It's how the two met the ginger cat that walked in one day and has been here so long Namjoon even named him.

("I say we call him Ginger." You'd suggested, your cheek pressed to their horribly uncomfortable couch, and you immediately feel claws digging into your back.

"The cat hates it," Seokjin says, popping a cheeto into his mouth with conviction.

Namjoon nods solemnly, "It is kind of a terrible name," he admits.

"OH!" You say with mock surprise, twisting your head like they do in those terrible horror movies just to glare at Namjoon. "What an interesting opinion, soundcloud user Runch Randa."

Seokjin cackles and the cat makes a strange choking sound, almost like it's laughing too. Namjoon's ears flush red.

The weight momentarily disappears from your back, only to reappear seconds later. "Oh, yep, that's a male alright."

"Jin-hyung!" Namjoon yelps, horrified, "You can't just- just do that without asking!"

"Joon, babe, it's a cat. I'll say please next time, okay?")

It was then decided that his name would be Kimbap. He's grown a bit chubbier than before, and you wonder what Seokjin has been feeding him for that to happen so quickly.

The silence reminds you of why you're here in the first place. ("I'm being used."

"NO you are NOT! Just- think of it as a favor to your old pal Namjoon."

"You're insufferable.")

You've mostly been idling around the counter so far, only helping the middle aged lady that had walked in a few hours back. She'd been drawn to a pair of old baby shoes. "I tried selling them once. My husband didn't let me." She smiled lightly, the shoes small and snug and delicate as they sat in the palm of her hands. "They've never been worn, after all."

She walked out without another word, and for a moment too long you wondered how brave Namjoon must be to hear these stories every day.

"Hello?" A tiny voice whispers, a lilting tone of wonder. You search around and spot the tip of a head by the edge of the counter, wild strands sticking out every which way. Leaning forward reveals a little girl just barely shorter than the counter, chubby cheeks and all as she makes grabby hands at you. "Are you a witch?" She asks with stars in her eyes.

"Why, yes I am!" You grin, and in a blink and a snap of your fingers the lights overhead turn off, the candles' flames flickering alight one by one. She stares on in wonder, mouth agape.

It's then you're reminded of your true reason of being here.

"Would you like your future told?"

To lie to children, that is.

You have no idea how to work this thing.

The crystal ball is perched on some sort of decorative table centerpiece that Namjoon likely found on Walmart, and if the crystal ball itself has any magical properties you certainly don't know how to make use of them. It's colored a charming, rustic gold that you're not sure whether is spray painted or natural but it's pretty all the same.

Nevertheless, making up people's futures has been fun. The cheery little werewolf girl is too energetic and will likely hurt herself in the near future if she's too careless. The human with the pigtails will find love soon in the most unconventional of places. The bratty fox hybrid boy that kicked your shin is straight up going to end up in jail (but will find someone to help him through his struggles, you added just for his parents not to potentially sue you).

Namjoon walks in at some point just as you're done performing a magic trick on a wide eyed boy that's no older than nine, the highest form of magic you can perform, most likely. He leaves with a skip in his step, little daisy tucked into his shirt pocket. Purity and innocence.

The real store owner watches the little boy leave softly before turning towards you with a raised brow.

"Namjoon, my man! Are you finally here to save me?" You cheer, clasping your hands together. The traitor in question pats your head softly, and you instantly deflate.

"Not yet, Y/n-ah, just here to get something." He says with his back turned to you, climbing the ladder on the wall in search of a book, much like Belle does in Beauty and the Beast. Namjoon is both the beauty and the beast, in this case. Your instincts tell you to run while his back is turned, but something tells you that you won't get too far before someone inevitably finds and snitches on you because you're surrounded by traitors.

"You came all this way to get a book?" You ask, stupefied.

"Spell book. I gotta be quick though, Jin-hyung says that I'm on bathroom cleaning duty if I don't hurry up."

You laugh at that, "You know he'll just find a way to make you clean the bathroom anyway, right?"

"Yeah. I hate him. He's the devil."

"He's your boyfriend."

He sighs, a fond thing. "Yeah." And that's that.

Kimbap climbs onto the counter with ease, despite how chunky he's gotten. You pat him solemnly as you glare at Namjoon with all your might.

"Mind telling me what you're doing that's important enough to have me be here, lying to innocent children?" You quip, looking away from your glaring to coo at Kimbap nuzzling into your hand.

"You're actually quite good at reading people. The ball does look like you don't know how to use it, though," he says as he pulls out a book that's so thick it's more of a dictionary than anything. "The ball is sad." He adds.

"The ball doesn't have feelings."

"It doesn't," Namjoon agrees as he slides down the ladder, and for a second you worry for his safety as his knees wobble when he reaches the ground, book safely in hand. "It's not the ball that has magic. It's the air that does. Everything that does. The world is magical, holds more magic than you'd think, you just have to be the one to look for it. The ball is more of a handy tool." He grins and for a second he looks too wise. Too grown. Something about his tone makes you feel like he knows more than he's letting on. It makes you feel small.

"You wanna take a peek into my future, then?" You ask, and you're answered by a pair of knee-deep dimples.

"Can't. Tried once, unintentionally. The memories are all fuzzy." He looks a bit too happy as he says it. A little too fond.

"What does that mean?"

He pats your head again as he leaves, answers over his shoulder, "It means I'm in your future." The muted buzz of cicadas and fluttering of birds and the gentle breeze are ever so present as Namjoon opens the glass doors, steps into the outside. "Your future is awfully warm, though," he adds right before leaving, right before he trips over the doorstep and nearly falls face first into the concrete. He rights himself, stepping out calmly as if it never happened. You're too bewildered to laugh.

"I think it was destiny? Like, it wasn't my lack of housing options that brought us together. I think Y/n's, like, my soul-roommate."

Bright robes rustle as Seokjin props his elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his hand with a sigh. Jungkook flinches when the older male's too-large wings skim at the edge of a nearby bookshelf, and it rocks back and forth for a second too long before regaining its balance. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Jungkook takes a good look at his very much angelic friend, the man in question squinting his eyes suspiciously at him.

"So you mean your soulmate?" He says, voice flat, eyes narrowed.

"No, hyung," Jungkook exasperates, "My soul-roommate. As in, I wanna be her roommate forever."

Seokjin squints. Downs his glass of water as if it were vodka.

Now, Seokjin could tell it like it is right now and rid Jungkook of his stress like wringing out a washcloth, fast and easy and with little repercussions. But Seokjin will not. Seokjin will let this drag on until the man figures out what do himself.

This isn't the kind of decision he can make, anyway. "Alright. That's nice, Jungkook-ah."

"Yeah! Yeah. It is." Jungkook picks up a broom Seokjin's wings had knocked over, apologizes quietly to it before placing it back against the wall.

The angel drums his hands on the wooden counter, looking up in thought. "And what about that Jimin fellow?"

Jungkook trips over his own feet on his way to the tray of crystals, and the older laughs almost maniacally at him. "What about him?" Jungkook slurs.

"Nothing, nothing, I've seen enough." He says with a laugh, wings fluttering in delight with a mind of their own.

Jungkook huffs indignantly, reaches for a nearby crystal colored a soft purple, begins polishing it aggressively with his apron. It warms in his palm, like it's been resting near a fire.

"Who's that?" Jungkook's ears perk at Jin's soft exclamation, and he looks out the window curiously.

There's a deer hybrid by the door.

The buck looks through the glass with an almost childlike curiosity, eyes lighting up like a fire. Something inclines him to walk in like it does with every customer, so he does; bending a bit so his antlers fit through the door frame, and Jungkook can't help but consider the gesture to be the most adorable thing.

The boy's sneakers squick, squeak, squish as he steps further into the building, marveling at the tiny expanse of the shop Jungkook considers his home. A lone bulb hangs by the shelves of poetry, its glow muted until the boy steps in to read some of the spine titles. Jungkook can't help but feel like the room has gotten a tad bit warmer, a tad bit brighter.

The werewolf watches the hybrid pad towards the tray of crystals. Some of them are raw and jagged and the size of his palm; others are smooth and fitting enough to be made into a necklace, maybe even a pair of earrings. The boy reaches for a purple one buffed into an oval, marvels at it before pressing it to his chest.

"Do you like purple?" Jungkook asks once he gets close, laughs as the boy jumps. He continues, "Amethyst. It's pretty. It cleanses one's energy field of negative influences and is known to relieve stress and dispel anger, fear, and anxiety. Also alleviates sadness."

The hybrid stares at him. The hybrid stares at him because there's a werewolf talking about energy as if it's a tangible thing and telling him rocks have magical properties. "Rocks can't do that."

"Hey!" Jungkook yelps, grabs at a nearby rock, holds it close to his chest, "You can't call them rocks. They're crystals, crystals."

"Oh." the buck blinks once, twice. He stares at the not-rock in his hand. Pats it a little bit. "Sorry."

"s'okay."

The boy looks small tucked into his jacket like that, and Jungkook watches as he fiddles with the zipper a bit, holds it between his fingers. "You work here?" The boy asks as softly as a voice can get, walking past a lamp that warms to life beside him.

"Yeah- yeah! I do. Work here, that is." Jungkook replies, just as soft, working at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. The boy's gaze is so so warm. Something urges Jungkook to shift his gaze to the ground and the other can't look away.

Jungkook laughs lightly as the boy sneezes suddenly, sniffles and rubs at his nose. "Is it the smell? It's quite a lot, isn't it? It messed with me in the beginning, too." He adds, tone a little too fond.

"Ah, yeah, I guess. Smells strong here, but, like. Nice." The boy says, steps in close to a vase filled with orchids and lilies and peonies and gardenias; femininity, purity, love, trust. He feels as a leaf curls around his outstretched finger like it's inviting him closer, welcoming him home. And he laughs, softly, like he can hear the flowers' hushed whispers.

"What do you think flowers talk about?" He mutters, and Jungkook almost flusters at the low rasp of his voice. Daegu, it comes to the werewolf all at once. Daegu boy. Jungkook's struck with the thought that he's never been to Daegu but it kinda already feels like home.

"Uh. I don't know. I've done some embarrassing things in front of them, so. Probably that."

The other laughs, movements syrupy slow as he stands up straight, antlers towering over the werewolf's form. Jungkook kinda wants to touch it. Kinda wants to touch all of him. Kinda wants to drown himself in the other's voice, the rough low of it, kinda wants to get his lips sticky with it. "Looks like they like you, though," he adds.

"I guess I'm just too charming, huh?" The boy says and then does something incredible. Something so mind boggling and out of place and so so endearing it has Jungkook's heart do something uncertain in his chest; an inverted beat, everything backwards, all the blood pumping the wrong way.

The boy winks.

Oh no.

Jungkook makes a weird noise from the back of his throat and he guesses there's something on his face because in just a second the boy laughs, laughs so hard it's like his heart is trying to crawl its way out his chest, like it's too big for him to hold on his own. It's beautiful. Jungkook wants to live in that sound, listen to it for hours on repeat like a broken radio.

It seems that's when the magic breaks because the boy remembers he's here to do business and takes notice of the weight in his hand, looks down at the crystal in his palm. "How much is this?"

Jungkook blinks. "Oh. I don't know. Y/n's responsible for that kinda stuff." He suddenly smiles, cheekily adding, "guess it's free!"

A laugh tumbles out the boys' lips, big and unreserved. Jungkook thinks he's just like that. Open and honest, easily able to light up a room with just a smile. "I can't just take it for free," he says as he places it back on the tray where he'd taken it.

"Sure you can! I'm encouraging it!"

The boy shakes his head, gaze flickering back to the crystal on the tray. He remembers how warm it felt on his palm, fitting like it belonged.

"Can crystals really heal you?" He asks, looking at the werewolf from beneath his lashes. He continues and the words don't feel like they're his, like someone's plucking them from out of him, "It just. Doesn't make sense. For it to be that easy, I mean."

Jungkook smiles and it melts the boy down to his bones. The younger boy picks up the crystal, tap tap taps at it like it'll give him the answers he needs. Offers it with an outstretched hand and a knowing smile. "They can heal you if you believe they can." Jungkook rolls his eyes with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "Just take it, you nerd."

Daegu boy bites his lips cherry red. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," Taehyung's so close Jungkook can see flecks of gold in his eyes, like leftover traces of the sun. He takes the crystal. And then in a blink he's gone, hands in his pockets as he trudges back out the way he came, "I'm Taehyung, by the way!"

"I'm Jungkook!" A goofy smile and a silly wave. The boy waves back. Ends up hitting his antlers on the doorway, backtracks with his head clutched in hands, and Jungkook openly laughs.

The boy leaves and the werewolf is struck with the thought that maybe he falls in love way too easily.

Something about today feels slightly off and you have no idea what it is.

Maybe it's just the lumpiness of the bed. Not the actual bed, just the jacket Jungkook had left laying around that's currently digging into your back as you lay lifelessly on your bed. You think you're having a crisis, a midlife crisis at the peak of your adulthood. And that's cool. That's fine. Totally normal and not at all disconcerting.

You feel a shadow tower over your body, and you peel open an eye to spot the very familiar that's causing your back such anguish, his brow cocked with purpose. "Why do you look like that?"

"huh?" you hum, and you think you're blinking but it's like someone is doing it for you, like you're drifting in and out of consciousness. "Look like what?"

He snorts like the answer is obvious, and it probably is. "Like someone just told you your ass is flat."

"That is rude and I am offended." You say without a hint of anger in your voice, and you briefly think of how that's probably your normal tone with Jungkook. Kinda soft and kinda playful and a fondness hidden just under your tongue, trying to wriggle its way out.

Jungkook says something akin to noona, do you want me to tie your hair for you? and noona, are you going to hyung's party? and noona, did you brush your teeth today? all at once, and at first you're mildly offended at the last one before you swipe your tongue over the front of your teeth and realize you haven't.

Then his words somewhat catch up to you and your brows furrow in question, "What party?"

"Ah. Namjoon-hyung's and Seokjin-hyung's. Something about an anniversary of theirs, but it's been less than a year? So I don't really know what they're celebrating? I think it's a pre-one-year-anniversary-party. Which is stupid because why don't they just celebrate it when it's actually been a year? I don't know. It's kinda wild."

You laugh at that, sitting up groggily and it's then that your familiar releases a little shriek, "Yikes! Do you want me to hire an exorcist? I think there's, like, three of them just around the block, I can run and get them for you!"

Your feet pad over the somewhat cold floor, and you slap the man's chest as you pass him by, his laughter following you on your way to the bathroom, and you can hear his tail bumping wildly against the wall as it wags carelessly.

At some point while you're brushing your teeth Jungkook pads lightly beside you, joining you with a toothbrush of his own. You're both staring at each other from your reflections in the mirror and you try to give him a smile but it results in toothpaste dribbling down your chin and Jungkook laughs so hard he spits a bit on the mirror.

Some odd sense of peace engulfs you then and it feels oddly dreamy, like an early morning breeze. Jungkook opens the windows to let some fresh air in while he makes sleepy sounds and you just kind of sit there, looking but not seeing, thinking of nothing and everything.

It's an early friday and the shop won't open for another two days so you have nothing to do but you feel like you do. You think it's the stress getting to you but you're not sure if that's it. You wonder if maybe Namjoon's psychic powers are contagious and your third eye has opened without your knowledge.

You watch as Jungkook pads over to your shared kitchen; the one that doesn't have your cauldron and your stove and your potions like the one just downstairs by the shop does. In fact, this one doesn't have a stove at all. Sometimes Jungkook walks all the way down to the other kitchen just to make proper food because it's not like you have the money to buy another stove, anyway. ("Jungkook we don't have a stove how are you going to make chicken nuggets?"

"But I have a lighter and determination."

"This is a bad idea and you're going to regret it.")

(He regretted it.)

Actually, you're not quite sure when Jungkook started living here. You can barely even remember how it was before Jungkook, when it was just you living alone in the apartment right above your dainty little shop, and now you can't imagine waking up without his sleepy sounds and your playful banter. It feels surreal. You wonder if it will last. You want to wish that it will, but you wonder if it's selfish.

You come to at the tragic sight of the familiar in question aggressively pouring cereal into his bowl, the milk already inside splashing around in waves. You sigh and stand up, the couch beneath you squeaking in protest.

Jungkook smiles as you come to a stop beside him. "G'morning," he says so so softly, like it's the first time he sees you- pretty little grin, pretty little curve to his lips.

"hi." you say, just as soft. This is nice. Everything is nice and smells and feels like Jungkook; solid. Safe. A comfort.

"You wanna watch Your Name?" he asks suddenly into the open air, and you laugh quietly at his determined eyes.

"That's like your de-stressing mechanism."

"Hey, it's valid."

And so it's a quiet friday morning. Jungkook has Kiki's Delivery Service queued and he's hoping there will be time to watch Ponyo like he's wanted to for so long and the afternoon will pass by like that, the two of you sitting around and watching movies and nature documentaries and tossing popcorn kernels at each other- sometimes with purpose, other times without.

Jungkook speaks up somewhere between shrimps being able to see colors we don't even know exist and lizards literally shooting blood out their eyes, and you turn away from the nature documentary to face him, "So are you going to that party? Jin-hyung said there'll be cake and mario kart and many people and stuff." He says before stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You blink for a few seconds in thought because yes yes yes but no no no. Yes because you love your friends and you love being able to see them happy and you love seeing Namjoon lose to Jin at mario kart for the umpteenth time. But no because the last time you met a new person you almost fell in love with them so no, you will not be meeting anyone new for a while.

(Well, maybe not necessarily in love, you tell yourself. That seems excessive. More like a maybe-love. More like a I could love you, if you let me).

"I'll think about it," you lie through your teeth, and the werewolf pretends to be convinced as he flashes you a little smile that's knowing in a way that makes you feel a bit small.

"Okay," he says, shrugs, turns back to the TV that's now saying something about dolphins being insomniacs but you're too caught up in your familiar's nonchalance to pay any attention to it.

The couch is a lumpy disaster. A huge mistake. Possibly the biggest one of your life. You kinda wish couches had never been born as you try for the fifth time to adjust your legs only to fail miserably, settling for fiddling with your glass.

This is downright blasphemy. Outrageous. You don't know how you got here or what's happening, but Jungkook disappeared somewhere in the crowd and Jin is, as expected, beating some poor person's ass at mario kart, and Hoseok and Yoongi are getting a bit too intimate by the sugar cookie icing, and you think the punch you're drinking has more alcohol than you were accounting for.

You think you should chew the gummy worms that are mixed into the punch better because there are more than a few instances in which you forget they're in there and end up choking on them. But it's fine because the home you're in smells like scorched firewood and maple syrup and Kimbap is sitting beside you on the couch, dressed very politely and with a little bow tie tied to his collar.

You'd tried to get up once, tried to face the crowd. Tried to face Jungkook's admittedly inevitable betrayal. There were plenty of faces you recognized, some you didn't, and at some point you were trying to push through the people cheering for Seokjin when your hand brushed over someone's chest; pecs. Pecs means Jungkook.

He took one look at your face and quite literally dived and disappeared into the crowd to avoid your glare, and you pretend he's escaped your grasp even when you see his bumbling form run into the kitchen three seconds later.

So here you are, back on the lumpy, overused couch of the infamous fiends that are Namjoon and Seokjin, petting their cat. Kimbap is a funny fellow. Always with his head held high, confident as he strides from one corner to the next and paws at your ankles for attention. You strive to be Kimbap.

"You have a good life," you say to the cat, petting lazily at his head. "Eat, sleep, some adventure, more sleeping, definitely more eating. You don't have to worry about love or being alone or - or rent."

Kimbap blinks, one eye then the other. Yawns. Promptly whacks the middle of your face with the tip of his tail. "Fucking punk," you mutter.

So you're at a party. You're never usually at parties, but the owners of the distasteful couch will have been together for one year as of three months from now, and you don't know why they don't just celebrate it three months from now when it's actually been a year, but the punch tastes bad enough to be considered good and Kimbap is nice enough company and everyone's having fun so you don't mind much.

"Why, hello there." A voice says from above you, and your shoulders stiffen and your grasp on the punch cup tightens.

You look up and it's Jimin. Jimin, the vampire. Jimin, Jungkook's crush. Jimin, a Raphaelite painting come to life, dark pants and a shirt with so many buttons undone it can't even be considered a shirt, more like a suggestion of one.

He plops on the couch beside you just as Kimbap scrambles away- another traitor- and you look away from his collarbones to see the boy grinning, openly and unabashedly, fangs and all. He's definitely not alcohol drunk. He's drunk off something a little more intangible, maybe.

"Look," he mutters but you're already looking. At his eyes and his hands and his stupid eyelashes. Spider-leg long eyelashes. No one should feel this overwhelmed by eyelashes.

Jimin takes one look at you and promptly swallows his glass of vodka as if it were water. You think he's smiling when he turns to look at you again but you're looking at the ground, sinking deeper into the couch - cheeks aflame, human fondue. You think you can become one with the couch. Maybe it's not that bad. You pat it fondly.

The vampire laughs with his whole body, doubling over, almost toppling off the couch. Your breath hitches a bit but you try not to think too much about it. Try not to think about anything, really.

"The punch is good," you say lamely.

"No it isn't."

"No, it isn't." you agree, then down the punch in one go. You slam the empty glass on the armrest and feel your face contort with so much adamant disgust that Jimin laughs fully, and the sound is beautiful and incredibly - Jimin, you not-think.

You're still Not Thinking. It's actually amazing how much you're Not Thinking, you not-think. It's amazing what the human brain can do once you set your mind to it. There's so many things you're not thinking about! You're not thinking about how Jimin shuffles the tiniest bit closer to you, or how he leans into you fully when he laughs, or how he lights up the room with his laugh alone.

It's kind of a blur what happened after that. Jimin started talking about how kiwi is the worst of all fruits, and the conversation somehow diverts into the plot holes and the fall of capitalism, and then somehow- somehow- into slang terms for penis. ("I'm just saying that if someone were to approach me and tell me their wang is hard again I can and will block them from my life," he says with so much open hate it has you choking on a laugh).

You learn he volunteers at a nearby shelter.

You learn he, for some reason, thinks the O blood type is an actual abomination and should be burned for its sins. ("Nothing against people with O blood types, though, I'm sure they're lovely!" he makes sure to add.)

You learn he's been convinced by outside sources that Tony Stark is a raging feminist.

You learn he's beautiful and lovely and sometimes, when the light hits him just right, you can see flecks of red in his eyes.

Talking with Jimin is easy, really easy. You love words, but sometimes they're easier to say than others. You're surprised how easy they were to come out, how easy they were to say. You thought you would whisper them or they would get stuck in your throat. You thought you would slur them together or fracture them into too many. But with Jimin it's just easy, always so easy, he's always so patient and willing to listen.

Jimin is so tender, so pretty, lighting up a room without even realizing it. He's so bright. Bright enough for you to think this, this. This is why Jungkook likes him so much, and it's then that you slump backwards and every previously undiscovered lump reintroduces themselves to your butt. You were wrong, you take it back - the couch fucking sucks.

At some point it becomes so bright you had to excuse yourself, had to hide and curl in the nearest bathroom.

You're curled up in yourself on the toilet seat when a voice in your head tells you that you can't stay here forever. You have an assignment due monday. Jungkook will probably give out all the shop's products for free and adopt three more goldfish and a hamster and a golden retriever completely on impulse. Kimbap will probably miss you. Or not. Many times you don't know if he likes you or if he uses you for food and pats.

After a moment or two you stand up, fake a flush. Wash your hands, dry them. Dab some cold water on your neck. Wash your hands again. Dab some more water on the back of your neck, your forehead, your chest - anything to cool down. Wrists? Knees? Jungkook always puts some cologne there because of heat glands or something, but you're not sure if that has anything to do with him being a werewolf.

When you walk out it's with a confidence that you most certainly don't have, and you pretend you didn't just almost have a mental breakdown in the bathroom of your friend's almost-anniversary party as you walk back to the lumpy couch. Only this time it's not just Jimin.

This time it's Jimin talking so so tenderly to the boy next to him, little giggles spilling from his lips as he whispers into his ear, throwing himself onto the boy's shoulder and smiles at him with so much open adoration that your chest kinda ached a bit.

And it's not Jungkook like you expected - no. It's a boy. The boy. Honey boy. The boy that takes trains early in the morning and loves the ocean and loves his family before anything else. A split second and the boy smiles and then you know, you know it's the boy and not some sort of fever dream, some sort of hunger confusing your eyes and your brain and your heart. A smile all mirth and joy, one you think can't quite get captured right in a photograph. Boxy and bold and wild.

You turn back the way you came from and you think you hear someone calling after you but your brain is too hazy to make out what was said at all. You look around frantically for Jungkook, find him still hanging by the kitchen, drunk off the punch gummy worms and trying to pour some more into his cup but spilling half of it onto the kitchen counter.

"I'm leaving." You say to him, just to let him know, not because you expect him to follow you but because you expect him to worry when he searches and can't find you. You turn with the intention of leaving and he gently grabs your wrist, and you see something in his eyes - hazy and dreamy with alcohol and confusion and something else.

"Why? What's wrong? Did something happen?" He asks, tugs you forward gently to bring you closer, voice not reaching beyond a whisper, soft all around the edges.

"No no, nothing happened, please don't worry." You say, try to pry him off you just as gently, but he remains firm as he looks around for the potential threat that doesn't exist - doesn't exist, because you're making a big deal out of nothing, you know you are.

Because the boy you're already in love with is off limits and the two boys you just might have been almost in love with are together and you're a fool. The biggest fool. The biggest fool because you've almost just fallen for not one, not two, but three people, three people that are not at all interested, and you think there's something wrong with you that you're not quite ready to deal with just yet.

You look up and you see his jaw tighten, something akin to anger flicker in his eyes and no- no no no, you didn't mean for this to happen, didn't mean to ruin his night. "I'm going home, please don't worry about me and have fun. Please?"

He releases a breath and looks back down at you, expression softening so much it melts you down to your bones. "I won't let you go home like this. Let me walk you?"

You want to say no, want to let him have his fun, but he's looking at you with such quiet determination and you're just so, so tired. "okay," you say breathlessly.

You make sure to say goodbye to everyone before you leave, patting Namjoon extra hard on the back so that he stumbles forward with an oof. Jungkook's hand is on your back the whole time, a quiet reassurance.

You think you've done a pretty good job at avoiding them. It's kinda hard with Jungkook, since you live with him and all, but you try to eat your meals at separate times and avoid looking him in the eye when he gets too close. You take train rides at night now, just in case, try not to look at the ocean when you pass it by. Flinch so hard when you passed by an animal shelter that a kind old lady actually stopped to ask if you were okay.

There's kind of a box in your chest. It stores all the unwanted feelings, keeps them all at bay. But sometimes the box breaks. Breaks when you need it intact the most. Your box is crumpled, old, tearing at the seams, little bits and pieces spilling bit by bit until the day comes when they break out all at once, and you think the day gets closer the more you deal with things alone.

You think the day is today as a boy comes flying through the door, clothes and hair disheveled, and you think you look more than a bit petrified as the vampire you'd been avoiding for a few weeks launches towards you, smacks a few crumpled bills onto the counter.

"How do I say fuck you in flower?" He says, something wild threatening to tumble out of his chest as he inhales a shaky breath, and you scramble to gather the flowers for the bouquet, despite the oddity of the request.

Carnation, foxglove, meadowsweet; disdain, insincerity, uselessness. You add a daffodil in there just for the heck of it - new beginnings. Which is ironic, coming from you.

He watches as you tie the bouquet together, and there's something gentle about his gaze despite the fact your heart is threatening to tumble out of your chest and he looked seriously intimidating, like, two seconds ago.

You hand the bouquet over after tying a bow around its end and he takes it with a smile, walking out the door without even bothering to wait for his change. There's silence for a moment. Nothing. Then he walks right back in, bouquet still in hand, places it back on the counter and pushes it closer to you. You stare, stunned.

You make a weird noise and you think you've just keyboard smashed in real life because that's when Jimin loses all composure, laughing joyfully and clutching at his stomach.

"It's- for you," he says after a moment, gaze flickering from you to the bouquet then back to you then back to the bouquet.

"What did I do?" You ask but you know what you did. You straight up ran away from him. Straight up told him you were coming back and then you just didn't. Kinda ditched him there on the lumpiness of the couch, but you didn't think he would notice, didn't think he would remember anything that isn't related to honey boy - not that you'd blame him.

Jimin looks at you knowingly. You manage to hold his gaze for less than a second before looking down at your shoes.

"Do you wanna have dinner with us?" He's drawling. You think it's a nervous tic. "Me. Taehyung. Jungkook, too, if he wants." He says and looks at the door behind you, as if waiting for Jungkook to walk through it.

Ah, you think, mustering up a smile, so his name is Taehyung. "Taehyung," you say, testing how it sounds on your tongue.

"Yeah," he smiles something a little too fond, a little too endeared. "Taehyung."

"But- Me?" You fold your arms, shift on your feet, uncertainty lacing your every word, "You want me to go, too?"

Jimin looks a little too confused, a crease between his brows. The crease goes soft when he smiles or feigns surprise, but it never quite mushes away. You kinda wanna kiss him there one day.

"Of course I do. Why would I not?" A sludge that had been spreading through your insides seems to evaporate the tiniest bit at that, and you can almost feel your heart melting out of your chest, dripping over your ribs like cheese fondue.

"Oh," you mutter, and that's that.

Jimin smiles again and you wonder how he does it, how he manages to smile so much, if he ever gets tired of it. He fishes through his pocket for a moment, pulls out his phone. "Let's exchange numbers, yeah?"

And so you do. In complete silence. Please tell me what to say, you beg your shit brain, but it just continues the mantra of curse words on repeat. It's sunny and he's close to the window where the roses are giggling under their breaths, where the light is hitting him in all the right ways.

"What, no tips?" You ask the boy's back as he leaves, bouquet in hand and carrying it all too delicately, like someone who has a lot of love in his heart, and he's laughing over his shoulder as he opens the door.

"I gave you one last time!"

"That's not how it works!" You yell but he's already gone, leaving a trail of giggles in his wake.

"Are you serious? They invited us over for dinner?"

"Yeah," you say as you pick up a box with a huff, softening as Jungkook runs over to grab it from you. You mutter a thank you before continuing, "Is it that hard to believe?"

"Kinda!" He huffs but you're almost sure it's from mock anger than it is from carrying heavy boxes around, "We're going, right?"

"I don't know.." Your familiar gasps a bit too dramatically as he sets the box down on the counter.

"Noona, I'm pretty sure there's a law that states that you have to go to dinner when two attractive men ask you to."

"Source."

"Namjoon is the smartest person in the world and he confirms this."

"I confirm this." You jump as the man in question pops up behind you, and you have no idea how and when he got here.

You groan. "Fine."

Jungkook whoops loudly and Namjoon, despite not really knowing what's going on, joins in with the same amount of enthusiasm. It's incredibly endearing and you hate both of them.

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