Archive of Our Own

FREEDOM FIGHTERS DEAL DEVASTATING BLOW TO CORRUPT MAGES AND THEIR ABHORRENT BLACK MARKET DEALINGS - UNCOVERING THE SHAMEFUL SECRET OF OUR CITY, HUMAN TRAFFICKING 

Early on Sunday morning while the good citizens of Sharefang City slept cozy in their beds, a band of tireless freedom fighters blew open a case that has stupefied local law enforcement for years, and shed light on a shocking practice that few outside of the very lowest— and very highest— classes of society had known anything about.

The shameful secret behind the swift rise to power in recent years of this city’s most well-known mages, Blue Dragon and White Swallow, is now brought into the open— the trafficking of helpless citizens, including a large number of innocent children orphaned in the riverpox epidemic that ravaged the most vulnerable population of our city little more than a decade ago. After the tragedy of losing their parents, grandparents, and caretakers to the epidemic, these children of the working class were caught in the predatory, power-hungry jaws of the elite of this city: the two mages who exploited them as human fodder for their reprehensible bio-magic. 

Armed guards bearing the insignia and characteristic magic of Blue Dragon attempted to take deadly force against the children’s brave rescuers, who broke open cages crowded with children destined for a cruel fate at the hands of the city’s most powerful— a cruel fate that Sharefang law enforcement did not protect them from, and that they would not have escaped if not for the actions of this fearless band. As eerie blue flashes of Blue Dragon’s characteristic magic lit up the dawn, survivors of these dank underground prisons spilled out into the night, freed and defended by a courageous group of vigilantes known only as the Kitty Gang. 

How did the storied rivalry between two power-hungry mages lead to the cruel disenfranchisement and imprisonment of our city’s working class children, while law enforcement fumbled in the dark and the government of our great city turned a blind eye? Why was one of the most fearless and selfless members of the Kitty Gang, who stayed behind to ensure every child was rescued, taken into custody by law enforcement— when not a single one of Blue Dragon’s mages was arrested? And why was the riverpox epidemic left to rage unchecked for so long among the working class families that make their living by the river, and a vaccine so swiftly and conveniently found once members of the upper classes and city government finally began to fall ill? These are the questions all honest and justice-loving citizens of Sharefang City must demand answers to.

Bio-magic, the practice of using biological matter to supercharge a mage’s spells, typically involves the use of living plant matter or, rarely, bodily parts and fluids of magical animals, as ingredients. It gained attention in recent years as the main type of magic practiced by infamous rivals Blue Dragon and White Swallow. The horrific discovery that two of the city’s most powerful mages are now trafficking helpless children to feed their own insatiable quest for power is unthinkable, and cannot be allowed to continue.

- More from guest writer VANTE on the need for the citizens of Sharefang to demand an end to the magical exploitation and oppression of its populace on page 7 -

✧

Second Constable Kim Namjoon is having a bad day. 

Ever since he was jolted awake at 4AM by a blinding blue explosion of magic outside his bedroom window, things have been going steadily downhill. He stumbled outside half-asleep and panicking, thinking he had a mage fight to break up in the middle of the night, only to discover that the streets were flooded with crying children, crowing vigilantes, and some kind of magical secret police force shooting off spells willy-nilly. And thanks to a very incendiary editorial in the morning paper, from the blazing pen of a mystery writer whose words have set the city on fire, everyone now thinks Namjoon and every law officer in his district are either corrupt human traffickers in the pockets of the mages or inept, bumbling buffoons who can’t even protect the city from the dastardly machinations of said mages. 

Unfortunately, whoever it is that wrote it has a pretty good point.

Namjoon knew the River District had problems. He knew that when he took this job. He thought he could make a difference, make the city a better place. He studied criminal justice, he knows all about how the overwhelmingly working class citizens of the River District are subject to the most unforgiving punishments and much stricter sentencing than anywhere else in the city. That’s exactly why he wanted the truly thankless job of Second Constable in charge of sentencing for the district, so he could make a positive change. It’s been an uphill battle from day one, all of his bosses hate him, and the mounds of paperwork grow higher by the day. But it’s only now that he’s really starting to understand just how deeply he’s in over his head. 

Because the leader of the Kitty Gang is sitting in his tiny office, boots up on Namjoon’s desk, head leaned back insolently, posture relaxed and graceful, somehow managing to wear the handcuffs on his wrists like shining accessories. His shocking pink hair is disheveled and way too bright for 7 in the morning, and he’s watching Namjoon over his round sunglasses with a twinkling little smile on his face like he’s waiting to be entertained, when what he’s actually waiting for is for Namjoon to take his head out of his hands and decide what to do next— and it’s finally starting to sink in just how fucked everything is.

Depending on how you look at it, this could either be the lowest point of his day or the peak. If he were a vindictive person, or one of the hundreds of corrupt officers this district is crawling with, he could be feeling pretty good right now. He could throw the book at Park Jimin like any other officer would, pin him with trespassing and inciting a riot and plotting to overthrow the government, lock him up and throw away the key and call it a day. He’d probably get promoted to First Constable before sunset.

Unfortunately, Second Constable Kim Namjoon is a good person who cares about doing the right thing, which means his day is only going to keep getting worse from here. 

He knows what he has to do. The eyes of his bosses at the head office, the mages, the Kitty Gang, and the entire city of Sharefang are on him, and there’s only one solution to this problem that doesn’t end with either Namjoon or Jimin being thrown to the wolves.

Metaphorically. There might be literal wolves involved this way, but that’s the least of Namjoon’s problems.

While he’s been sitting with his head in hands, the gears of his brain whirring at an unbearable pace, he happened to make eye contact with a particular piece of paperwork, one of many piled and scattered across his desk. An annoyed little letter filing for official permission to “repatriate” animals from the city’s shelter, written from one Min Yoongi, employee of a very strange-sounding place on the outskirts of town called Kook’s Animal Rescue. 

It’s the type of paperwork that some grunt in the main office should be dealing with, not Kim Namjoon, Second Constable of the River District. Exactly the kind of thing that gets forwarded to him out of spite from his bosses, who hate that they can’t control him as well as they’d like. 

Today, it’s the golden answer to all of Kim Namjoon’s problems, and it’s going to be the thing that saves Park Jimin’s life.

Before this beautiful idea can finish blooming in his mind’s eye, he’s interrupted by the sharp little sound of Park Jimin tapping the heel of his boot against the nameplate on Namjoon’s desk.

“Hey. Kim Namjoon-hyung. I appreciate that you’re having a personal crisis, but I’m hungry. Are you letting me go? Can I get some breakfast or what?”

Namjoon lifts his head to make disbelieving eye contact with the man seated across from him. He’s still smiling pleasantly, eyes sparkling, lips as pink as his hair, not a hint of irony in his demeanor despite his overly familiar form of address. He seems remarkably fresh for someone who’s been up battling mages and liberating imprisoned children since the small hours of the morning, and then locked up in a cramped cell himself to await sentencing.

“Park Jimin-ssi. It’s very important that you take this seriously. You may have been acting out of a sense of justice, but unfortunately you’ve broken a slew of laws in the process. Not to mention that your— gang that you lead, or a member of your gang, has published an editorial making some rather inflammatory insinuations against the city government, the two most powerful mages in the city, and the local office of the law that you’re sitting in right now. So please. Tell me, what do you think is about to happen?”

The smile on Jimin’s face grows brighter, eyes briefly winking closed in delight like a pleased cat. “Wow! Thank you for the glowing review. I don’t lead the gang though, you know, we don’t believe in hierarchy, but I’m proud nonetheless. Anyway, I think what’s about to happen is you’ll pat me on the back, say ‘thanks for doing my job for me, Jimin,’ and send me home so I can meet my boys for breakfast. We have a lot of new orphans to take care of, but I’m sure the gang is celebrating right now, and I hate to miss it.” 

Namjoon finds that he’s holding onto his own head again, as though the pressure of his hands could figuratively stop it from exploding. 

“Jimin-ssi. I appreciate that you’re proud of the outcome of your actions, but in the eyes of the law, you’ve stirred up a lot of trouble, and you have to answer for it. Part of my duty as Second Constable—”

Jimin doesn’t even let him finish. “Oh. So you think rich people should be able to lock up kids and harvest human livers whenever they want? But I’m the one who has to answer for trying to stop it? Cool cool.” Abruptly, Jimin rises from his chair, posture proud and regal like a dancer’s, hands held loosely in front of him like the handcuffs are nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “I’ll just let you go about your business enforcing the law. You’re doing such a great job. Constable of the year for sure. I’ll let you get back to it—” 

It’s at this point Namjoon understands he needs to act before Jimin can do something ridiculous like kick the office door down and attempt to march out of the building in front of all of Namjoon’s fellow officers, some of whom are certainly corrupt, thus ruining Namjoon’s plan to save them both from the metaphorical wolves, and any chance they have of cracking the case open even further.

“Jimin. Please. I didn’t— I didn’t know. If I had I would have done something to stop them before this. Please believe that I would.”

For a few charged seconds that seem to stretch eternally, Jimin glares into Namjoon’s eyes like he can see into his soul, his face completely blank of the smile he wore moments ago, and despite his smaller size and overly familiar air, for a moment Namjoon actually feels frightened.

Then Jimin cocks his head and smiles, and suddenly Namjoon can breathe again.

“So you admit you need my help? Couldn’t dream of taking down the mages without the aid of the Kitty Gang? Is that what you’re saying?”

Namjoon lets out a stressed breath of air. “Obviously an officer of the law would never admit to any such thing.” He pauses to give Jimin another pointed look, which judging by the gleeful expression on Jimin’s face, is well understood. “What I will admit is that this case will be an uphill battle. We’ll need a lot of resources to bring those responsible to justice.” 

What Namjoon means is that he has no idea how he’s going to take down the two most powerful mages in the city, and that it’s probably going to take a lot of firepower, more than whatever the Kitty Gang is capable of, and until he’s figured it out, the mages can’t suspect that anyone in any position of power is actively plotting against them. 

They have to believe the law is on their side until Namjoon has figured out how to take them down. 

And for that to be believable, Jimin has to be sentenced. 

Jimin, who is now leaning one shoulder against the door to Namjoon’s office, tilting his head and playing with the chain linking his handcuffs, twisting it in his delicate fingers already bright with rings. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, hyung! You either enable the magical ruling class or you help tear it down, I think we both know that.” A bright little grin flashes across his face, only to be quickly replaced by what can only be described as the cutest, most puppy-eyed pout Namjoon has ever seen. “Now that we’re in agreement, can I go? We can stand here complaining about the system all day, but actions speak louder than words, right hyung?” 

Not for the first time today, Namjoon thinks Jimin is really, really lucky he’s the one in charge of his sentencing and not one of the many self-righteous pricks with superiority complexes who Namjoon has to work with every day. 

“You can’t just waltz out of here, Jimin. Do you understand? I have to give you a sentence.” Everyone is watching me, and if I don’t do this, we’re both fucked, he doesn’t say. 

“I mean. No offense to your little operation here, but I could. Wanna see what happens if you try to keep me in jail?” Jimin is smiling again, but it’s somehow a completely different expression than the one before. It’s a hungry look, and sly, something closer to a fox showing its teeth than an expression of happiness. 

Namjoon closes his eyes. “I didn’t hear that. Officially, I don’t understand what you’re suggesting. Anyway, I have something different in mind for your sentence.” In the comforting darkness behind his eyelids, he can see the whole thing playing out, how all the pieces fit together. He needs to buy time for his investigation. He needs to appear to put the public face of the Kitty Gang out of commission, without actually hindering them too much, and he needs them on his side so they don’t do anything too out of pocket while Namjoon is doing his work. 

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. “How do you feel about animals?”

Jimin actually glances from side to side before staring back at Namjoon with huge eyes, like he’s appealing to an imaginary group of spectators— can you believe this guy?  

Namjoon decides not to acknowledge that, and instead he pulls a pad of paper towards himself and starts writing frantically. “Ok. Let me explain. You can’t be in jail, it isn’t safe. You need to get out of the city. Community service. But it needs to be long enough to be a convincing sentence. So—”

“Nice try. But I’m not going anywhere.” Jimin’s voice is low and authoritative, the cute act completely vanished. He’s fiddling with his rings, eyes lowered in a show of disinterest, like he expects to be obeyed without question. “I think we’ve been over this, but it seems you really are pretty hopeless at your job without me.”

It’s a good act. Namjoon sees how it would work in the world he typically inhabits, the world where status is nothing and charisma and confidence are everything. 

But Namjoon knows this game all too well. He’s gotten far too used to talking his way around every other officer in the district, convincing them he’s utterly on their side even when he’s telling them to their face about something he’s about to do that they’re really not going to like.

“Listen. I know you didn’t intend to get caught. It’s too soon. Am I right? Now you need to lay low.” He waits a half breath, carefully watching Jimin’s face, feeling the timing in his words coiling just right. “You won’t go too far. Just for three months.”

Jimin lifts his eyes up without moving his face, the lines of his cheekbone and jaw stark at this angle, and he just looks at Namjoon. It’s practically visible in his stillness, how the gears are turning.

Namjoon is struck all over again by how young he is. Not so much in years, because Namjoon knows he only has maybe a year or two on Jimin at most. It’s his passion, the way he burns so bright with conviction. Namjoon remembers when he used to be like that. Back when he was a cadet, before he got all tangled up in this sham of a system. When he still had big ideas about how he was going to make the world a better place. Jimin is actually living that way, according to his principles, lashing out directly against injustice where he sees it. It’s enough to make Namjoon want to believe in him. Maybe it’s because somewhere deep down, he’s still the same idealistic fool at heart, but it’s enough to make him want to help Jimin. 

Maybe it’s not too late for Namjoon to live that way too. To fight for what really matters.

He doesn’t want to see Jimin lose that fire. Not if he can protect it.

“Trust me. This is the best thing I can do for you right now. Three months of community service and keeping your name out of the news, and you’ll thank me.” You’ll thank me when it’s over and you’re still alive to keep fighting, because I kept you out of Blue Dragon’s crosshairs, he doesn’t say. “This won’t be over, Jimin.” If it were another officer of the law saying it, it would mean something completely different. He has to hope that Jimin understands him.

Jimin keeps giving him that look a moment longer, like he’s X-raying Namjoon’s soul with his eyes. 

Apparently he sees something trustworthy enough, because he leans his back against the door, gaze sharp under lowered eyelids, and gives a small nod. Namjoon feels strangely vindicated, like he’s passed a test. There really is something powerful about Jimin, something that makes Namjoon want to rise to the challenge. Some quality in the force of his presence that can seize a spark and fan it into an open flame. 

He may have said he’s not the leader of the Kitty Gang, but Namjoon can see why people would follow him.

Then Jimin rolls his eyes up and blows out a little puff of air that flutters his bangs, back to the petulant act, and Namjoon almost laughs. “Ok, ok. I see your point, hyung. So where the fuck are you sending me?”

✧

The wagon rattles and bumps, and the big leaf resting over Jimin’s face slides to the side, letting a bright flash of dappled sunlight half-filtered by trees directly onto his face.

He grunts and jerks upright, too quick and alert for someone who just awoke, coiled and ready to strike if he senses a threat.

Other than the supply wagon he’s hitched a ride on, there’s nothing around him but green and trees. 

He melts into a more casual posture, nervous energy dissipating into the late summer air, as his abruptly awakened brain registers his surroundings and remembers where he’s going. 

The back of his shirt is sticky with sweat, and he lets his jacket slide off his shoulders to hang loosely from his elbows, pushing his hands through his hair like he can push the remnants of sleep away. He has no idea where he is, but he has a feeling he’s not supposed to be in the middle of the countryside.

“Hey! Where the fuck are we? I’m supposed to go to the pet rescue. You trying to kidnap me or something?”

The driver, a middle-aged man who hasn’t spoken a word since Jimin cheerily climbed onto his wagon this morning after hugging his best friends goodbye (Tae sobbed dramatically into his shirt, Hobi shook him by the shoulders and screeched about writing him letters every day until he returned), seems suddenly willing to respond to human speech, lifting an arm to point laconically at something about fifty meters up the road.

To Jimin it looks like a cluster of giant overgrown bushes, not too different from all the trees overhanging the bumpy dirt road they’re on. He certainly wouldn’t have taken it for the place he’s meant to hide out for the next three months, biding his time before he can come back and rain vengeance down upon the assholes that imprisoned him and everyone he loves when they were children.

A shiny blue butterfly, moving lazily in the midday heat, flutters past Jimin in its looping way, wings flashing briefly bright through sun and shade. Delighted, he holds out a finger to it.

Before he has time to be anything more than mystified at the strange, branching blue-bright flash that arcs from the butterfly’s body to his finger, white-hot sensation shocks up his arm and the tip of his finger burns like it’s been pressed to a stove.

For one horrifying second, his entire body locks up, muscles freezing against his will, something blank and bright whiting out his brain. 

But the butterfly keeps dipping and drifting through the air, going on its way, and the frozen feeling passes like it always does. “Whattheshit.” Jimin’s breath rushes out of him in disbelief, shoulders sinking from where they’d locked up around his chin at the shock of being suddenly electrocuted by a passing butterfly. It disappears between two trees at the side of the road, blue wings still flashing innocently in the sun.

The wagon lurches to a stop and Jimin half falls over, regaining his feet after swinging halfway over the side and back up straight again like some kind of drunk stork.

“What the fuck? Why is everything trying to kill me today?”

Then he looks up and sees it.

The thing he thought was a giant overgrown pile of bushes is actually an extremely overgrown sign, like the kind that would stand at the entrance to an abandoned theme park for kids. The signposts are wrapped in ivy and hidden by an extremely leafy bush with huge, drooping yellow and pink flowers that vaguely resemble trumpets. The sign at the top is in shifting sunlight and shadow, a big pink flower bobbing gently over it in the breeze. 

Against a faded blue background, ancient-looking red lettering reads KOOK’S ANIMAL RESCUE.

“Ok. Is this haunted? Or a portal to another universe or something?”

Jimin hops off the bed of the wagon right after he says it, because he’s always up for an adventure. He has to pass the time until he can get back to the city somehow.

The wagon lurches into motion again, rolling slowly away down the road.

“Hey!” Jimin has the presence of mind to grab his bag out of the back. The driver in front doesn’t respond in any noticeable way. Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically for the benefit of absolutely no one, and spins back to face his fate.

There’s a person standing in the gateway now.

Instincts flaring, Jimin drops his bag and instantly shifts his weight, not into a challenge but a readiness, so the stranger standing there staring at him gets the idea it won’t be so easy to fuck with him, if that’s his goal.

The guy just stares flatly at him like he’s not impressed. He has long, silky black hair tied half-up in a little bun, and cute features ruined by a sullen expression. He’s wearing the type of giant, shapeless coveralls that gardeners wear, with heavy boots and a long-sleeved thermal under. He must be miserably hot. And then— “Are you the criminal?”

Jimin has no idea why this guy is so rude, but as usual he’s confident in his own ability to gain the upper hand. “I object to that terminology. I’m a champion of freedom, it’s not my fault the cops are corrupt. Are you the asshole that runs this place?”

The center of the man’s face squinches up like he just bit into a bad orange. “I’m not. And don’t let me hear you call him that ever again.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and bends down to pick up his bag, his round sunglasses sliding down his nose in the process. “Cool your jets. So far you’re the only asshole, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He slings his bag over one shoulder, tilting his head and peeking at the grumpy man over the top of his sunglasses, and summons his most charming smile. The guy just stares back at him blankly, his sour expression replaced by a judgmental void. “Whatever you’re trying to do won’t work on me. I’m Min Yoongi, the grounds manager. The owner’s busy, so I’ll show you the ropes. If you try any con artist shit I’ll throw you out and you can spend the next three months sleeping in a tree for all I care.”

Ok. He’s starting to get a sense of this Min Yoongi now. Jimin lets his features fall into what he knows is a cute pout.

“Hyung. Con artist? Who exactly do you think I am? I’m here to help you. Community service.” He tilts his head and does his best to sound honestly hurt.

Min Yoongi actually raises one hand in a stop gesture, like he’s a school traffic guard. “Don’t hyung me. I barely know you and I don’t want to. Now hurry up, I don’t have all day to stand around. This place is incredibly understaffed as it is and I can already tell you’re not going to be much help.”

Jimin feels a sharp smile take over his face before he can stop it. “Yoongi-hyung. Shouldn’t you show me the ropes before you decide that? What are you so understaffed for, anyway? Could it be the grounds manager’s personality putting people off?”

Yoongi’s face almost turns happy for a second, eyes crinkling, looking back at Jimin like he’s gloating or something. He looks like a different person than a second ago. “Ah. There you are. It didn’t take much.” He steps back from the entrance so he’s no longer blocking the way in, body language relaxing into a loose slouch. “Seriously, hurry up. I wasn’t kidding about the understaffed part, I’ll be surprised if something hasn’t blown up while we—”

“Hyung!” A panicked voice rings out before the owner of it comes into view, but Jimin can’t even understand what he’s seeing at first, because the person who comes bounding down the path is struggling with what appears to be a giant, muddy brown salamander half the size of his own body.

“Jungkook-ah.” Jimin can’t help but notice that Yoongi’s voice somehow sounds long-suffering and unbearably fond all at once. He discreetly checks the grounds manager’s expression— eyebrows furrowed, mouth pulled down in a grimace, but it’s the kind of fake-upset face you make at a kid when they’re doing something silly and you’re too soft to tell them outright that they’re being ridiculous. Interesting.

“Hyung, I’m sorry I’m late, Honey is so upset, she won’t settle, not even in the new— the new— oh—” The mud-covered newcomer, Jungkook, stops in front of them and stutters into silence, staring at Jimin with the biggest, roundest eyes he’s ever seen in his life.

Jimin fights hard to control his expression. The owner of Kook’s Animal Rescue has a curly, disheveled black bob, speckles of mud on his face, and is wearing cargo pants with a loose shirt, both of which were probably once black but are now so coated with slimy brown mud that they’re dripping gently onto the path. Both of his arms are wrapped in a protective hug around a massive, squirming salamander with a distended belly, which is cradled against one of Jungkook’s strong-looking forearms. Jungkook is standing there, eyes big, chewing gently on his bottom lip. As they stand there looking at each other, the salamander in his arms makes a sharp huffing sound, and two plumes of steam rise from its nostrils. Jimin hasn’t spent much time around animals, but that doesn’t seem entirely normal.

Feeling the thrill of a golden opportunity at his fingertips, Jimin seizes his chance. “Hey! You must be Jeon Jungkook. Namjoon-hyung told me a little about you, but I still have so much to learn. I’m Park Jimin.”

Jimin strides across the space Jungkook left between them when he stopped, and casually slings his bag at Yoongi without looking at him, who catches it with a surprised oof. He sees the way Jungkook leans backward in surprise, eyes getting impossibly bigger, arms squeezing around the huge slippery animal in his arms. Jimin smiles sweetly and sticks out his hand, as though he can’t see that Jungkook’s are occupied.

He waits the exact right amount of time with his hand out between them, and watches as Jungkook stares down at it, seemingly frozen, cheeks slowly turning a delicate shade of pink.

Jimin laughs, letting his body shake with it, and brings his hand up to squeeze Jungkook’s shoulder instead. It’s thick.

“Sorry, sorry! Obviously you’ve got your hands full. I think Yoongi-hyung was just about to show me around, but if you need any help…?” 

“He doesn’t need your help.” Yoongi’s voice is sharp, but less authoritative than before. He sounds like he might be panicking a little. Very interesting.

Jimin turns his glowing smile onto Yoongi. “But hyung, isn’t that why I’m here? To help? Don’t you think—”

“She’s pregnant,” Jungkook blurts. Jimin is momentarily stunned into silence, until he realizes Jungkook is talking about the giant muddy creature clutched in his arms.

Jimin makes eye contact with the salamander, her eyes black and blinking. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere than here but has grudgingly accepted her fate. Jimin wonders if he’s just projecting.

Jimin looks from Jungkook to Yoongi, who doesn’t seem willing to speak. His mouth is pressed into a firm line, like maybe he thinks if he doesn’t talk to Jimin, then he’ll just disappear. Jimin’s eyes slide back to Jungkook, who is staring down at the salamander in his arms with his lips pushed into a little pout. Jimin decides to save them all from the silence stretching into awkward moment territory. “I thought amphibians laid eggs?” 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is soft and surprised, and he looks back up at him with those big deer eyes like Jimin just casually voiced one of the secrets of the universe. “That’s right! They do. Honey isn’t really an amphibian though. She looks like one, but—” Instead of continuing his explanation, Jungkook shifts one of his hands where it’s holding on to Honey, and presses gently against the base of her throat.

Honey opens her mouth and a half-meter-long gout of fire bursts out. 

Jimin is pretty proud of his ability to control his genuine reactions to things, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been tested so much in the span of a few minutes before. He thinks back to the butterfly on the road. The first warning. What the fuck was Namjoon thinking, sending him to a place like this?

“So she’s— magic? This is— you have mages here?” Without thinking, Jimin slowly shifts back a step, the familiar tension entering his body that comes right before a fight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Yoongi’s immediate reaction, the way he slowly sets Jimin’s bag down and practically squares up. Confirming Jimin’s suspicion that he’s not a country boy like Jungkook, who’s currently glancing between Jimin and Yoongi with wide eyes, confused about the shift in tension that he can’t seem to understand.

Before Jimin can take action, Yoongi cuts in, voice slow and clear like he wants to make sure he isn't misunderstood. “No. No mages. But Honey and the other animals here are magic. They’re rescues. Rejects from the mages’ fucked up experiments.” He slouches back into his relaxed posture, and pointedly looks at Jungkook, who still looks like he doesn’t understand what’s happening. “Jungkook started this place to protect them from poachers, people who either want them dead or want to harvest them for parts. Some of the animals can be pretty dangerous, but only if you fuck with them.”

Jungkook interrupts in a loud voice, sending Jimin’s eyes snapping back to him in surprise. “They’re not here because they’re dangerous. They’re only magic because humans made them like this, and now humans won’t leave them alone. There’s nothing wrong with an animal protecting itself. But if they’re here, they don’t have to fight for their safety. They can just live.” 

He speaks fast, with conviction, face determined, words rushing out of him in a stronger tone than the soft voice he used when he walked up. Jimin recognizes it as the sound of someone speaking about their passion, the thing they feel they were born to do. It’s the same way Jimin feels when he gets to punch a mage in the face. How he feels when he talks about why he fights them. 

Like Yoongi, Jimin makes a show of relaxing his posture, and smiles bright and sharp. “Well ok! As long as nobody here’s a mage, we won’t have any problems. Glad we got that sorted out.”

“Nobody else is here regularly besides us, and sometimes Jin.” Yoongi responds instantly, with a casual air, effectively cutting off whatever Jungkook was about to say. To Jimin it sounds like misdirection. 

“He cooks for us sometimes. And comes to visit.” Jungkook’s voice is soft again. He lifts Honey up to his shoulder, and the giant not-really-a-salamander rubs her big, mud-covered head against the side of Jungkook’s neck. Jimin notices that Jungkook’s face is still a little pink, and that he seems to be hugging Honey a little more firmly than necessary.

Jimin softens his smile, makes it a little less dazzling. “Great, because I can’t cook.” He reaches up with one hand and uses his thumb to gently wipe some mud off of Jungkook’s chin. He notices Jungkook’s throat bob with a swallow. “But I’m gonna be here for three months. How else can I help you?”

Yoongi starts to make a sound of protest, but before he can say anything, Jungkook answers, his voice so soft he’s almost whispering. “I need someone to help me get her settled. She needs a warm, secluded place to make her nest.” 

At this moment, the way Jungkook is looking at him is almost like a wary animal, Jimin thinks. Not trusting, but giving him a chance and waiting to see what he’ll do. The look of someone who’s used to being betrayed, but still has a soft heart underneath.

When he answers, he makes his voice soft too, matching his volume to Jungkook’s, the same way he would with a scared child. “Ok. Let’s get her settled in then.”

✧

Jungkook is rambling. 

He’s painfully aware that he is, just like he’s aware that Park Jimin was aggressively flirting with him when he first got here, but as always, even when he knows what’s happening his brain to mouth faculty couldn’t find the right words to deal with it, so he just stood there, stock-still and silent as a deer while Yoongi and Jimin had some kind of elaborate battle of wills right in front of him, and he didn't stand up for himself even a little bit.

And now he’s talking way more than he usually would, probably more than he’s spoken in the entire past week, information simply flowing out of his mouth about the only thing he really knows how to talk about: the intricate ecosystem of the rescue and all the interconnected emotions, histories, and conflicts between the animals that live here.

“—I thought it would be best for her to have her litter in the yard, I thought she’d like that, having the freedom to go anywhere she wants as long as we could make the nest itself feel safe enough? But she didn’t like it, I think she just needs to be more enclosed, further away from the other animals where she knows they can’t get to her. Not that they’d do anything, I think it’s just instinct, you know? She can’t help it, she just doesn’t feel safe. So there are a few things we could do, that I think we didn’t do well enough in the first nest. I’m thinking enclosed sides and a top? But it can’t be completely enclosed, like there has to be some light coming in, maybe a crate with slats that are spaced apart, and it has to be soft, probably not just on the bottom because she might still want to climb if she’s up for it, so the whole thing has to be—”

“Soft.” Jimin’s voice cuts in, quiet and precise, and Jungkook realizes he hasn’t breathed in over a minute, and that Honey is now chewing on the collar of his shirt. 

Jimin is kneeling in the corner of the oldest garden shed, the one that’s not completely weatherproof and that they barely use anymore for that exact reason. He’s kneeling in the dirt, bomber jacket hanging from his elbows, white tee shirt sticking to his back in the summer heat, looking like he doesn’t even care that his jeans are getting smudged with dirt all the way up his legs.

He’s trailing one hand along the weathered wall at approximately the height of Jungkook’s chest, which is actually just about the size Jungkook was thinking of. Jungkook takes a slow, deep breath before speaking again, and gently reaches up to detach Honey’s wet jaws from his shirt collar.

“Yeah. I think that’s the right size. We just need to build it.” 

As though on cue, Honey makes a grumpy little rumbling noise, like stones grinding together in her stomach. 

“Oh. Are you hungry again, baby?”

Without thinking, Jungkook slips into the soft lisping tone he always takes with the animals, and doesn’t really think about it until he looks back up at Jimin and sees the way he’s biting his lip against a smile. For a frozen moment Jungkook feels hollowed out, like he accidentally spilled his guts out for everyone to see— he hates embarrassing himself in front of strangers— but he reminds himself he has nothing to be ashamed of, and steels himself for the ridicule he knows must be coming.

“She’s your baby, huh? You’d better go feed her then. I’ll get started on the frame, and you can come back and check on it when it’s time to add the soft parts. Can I use that pile of branches we passed by on the way in? I don’t know if you have lumber, but I figured since she’s kind of a wild animal the tree branches might be more comforting.”

Jungkook blinks. He feels— not attacked, like he was expecting, but overwhelmed. Jimin is just doing it. Not asking why or what’s the point, but just— helping. He’s kneeling there, patting his hands gently against the dirt like he’s visualizing Honey’s nest, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook like he’s actually waiting for Jungkook’s opinion. It’s a bewildering mix of confidence and respect that Jungkook, who is used to either dismissive arrogance or emphatic avoidance from strangers, has never encountered before.

“Um. Yeah, that’s— that’s a good idea. Let’s try that. There are supplies, tools and stuff, in the second shed if you need them. I’m gonna— I’ll be back in like, half an hour or so. She eats a lot.”

Jungkook’s ears feel like they’re on fire. He wishes he could cover them but his arms are full of Honey. Why he can’t he be more like Jimin, and project effortless confidence? This is his place. He should feel comfortable being in charge. 

But Jimin just smiles at him, not even a smile like he’s laughing at Jungkook, but like he’s just happy Jungkook liked his idea. “I’ll do my best, but don’t be too hard on me, ok? It’s my first time building a nest for a giant— Honey.”

Jungkook bites his lip and tries not to react to the cute way Jimin said Honey’s name when he realized he didn’t know how else to refer to her. That’s why Jungkook gives the animals names in the first place, otherwise it would be utter confusion.

Not trusting himself to speak again without blurting out something embarrassing, Jungkook just nods a few times with Honey still bundled against his chest, and turns to leave the shed. 

And if he pretends the wild feeling in his chest has more to do with Honey’s massive stomach rumbling against him than the rapid thumping of his own heart, that’s nobody else’s business. 

✧

Jungkook is staring down in distress at his rippling, distorted reflection in the surface of the pond.

There aren’t many mirrors at the rescue. In fact, there’s only one, at the main building. Jin gave it to them because he insisted it was barbaric that he not be able to witness his own beauty whenever he visits them. Jungkook knows it was mostly a joke, but that Jin’s horror at the fact that they didn’t even have a mirror anywhere on the premises was real.

Now, Jungkook is starting to have some regrets.

He knew he was a little dirty from carrying Honey around for the past hour but— there’s mud. Everywhere. In his hair. On his face. He looks ridiculous, even by his own standards, which are pretty much nonexistent. Yoongi laughed at him when he cut the front part of his hair only, and left the rest of it a shaggy mess, but Jungkook just did it so he wouldn’t have to keep pushing his hair out of his face. At the time he didn’t care.

Maybe Jin was right about him. He has been living like a barbarian. 

He lets out a long, gusty sigh as his reflection continues to ripple and dance, the giant speckled carp mouthing at the surface of the pond continually disrupting his ability to make sense of what he sees. A couple meters away, Honey is slurping happily in the mud, vacuuming worms into her mouth. 

It’s weird for Jungkook to care that this scene is— well, weird. This is his life, the life he chose, the cause he dedicated himself to because he cared about it more than anything. Usually he defends it ardently to anyone who dares to ridicule it, which is most people besides Yoongi and Jin. He’s never cared how he looked to an outsider before. 

He doesn’t understand where this feeling is coming from, because Jimin hasn’t even been mean about it. Not the way people usually are, like they think he’s an idiot for doing this, or like they just want to get away from him as fast as possible in case his weirdness is contagious.

Jimin also didn’t have a choice to come here. It’s a punishment, or something. Jungkook doesn’t really understand the details. All he knows is that Yoongi got a letter about it that he tried to rip in half, but he couldn’t because it was made out of some kind of waxy official rip-proof paper, and that made him even grumpier.

Yoongi tried to get him to read the letter, and when Jungkook’s eyes glazed over he tried to explain what he thought it meant, but it turned out to be so vaguely written and full of legal bullshit that he realized there was even less information in it than he thought, so they both gave up.

And now Jimin is here. Building a nest for Honey without even questioning why Jungkook thinks it’s important to build her a better nest. Without even questioning why he cares so much.

It’s strange. Jungkook is so used to interacting with poachers and black market animal traders that it feels strange to be treated with the bare minimum of respect and decency.

Yoongi said Jimin was a criminal, so Jungkook kind of thought he might be like those other criminals Jungkook has met in the course of his work rescuing animals— crude, careless men, indifferent to the suffering that surrounds them, the suffering they themselves help perpetuate.

Maybe Yoongi was wrong about who exactly Jimin is. Maybe Jimin is different. 

Jungkook’s musings are interrupted by Honey releasing a thunderous burp right next to his elbow. 

Jungkook lets out another sigh, and finally sprinkles some treats into the pond for the carp. They don’t really need them, they have enough food to eat in the pond, but sometimes Jungkook likes to spoil them, just because he knows nobody else ever will.

“Ready, Honey?” Jungkook hefts Honey up with one arm, and uses his other hand to try to fix his hair, or at least make sure there’s no obvious mud or leaves in it. 

Not that he thinks Jimin will notice, or care. But Jimin— he looks like someone who pays attention to details. Someone who notices small things and cares about them. He clearly knows that he’s beautiful, and that it has an effect on people. Or that it had an effect on Jungkook.

Embarrassed by the memory of his reaction to meeting Jimin, Jungkook’s shoulders rise up like a turtle trying to hide in its shell, and Honey makes a surprised snuffling sound against his ear.

Great. So much for getting the mud out of his hair.

This is just who Jungkook is. How his life is. Jimin has been ok about it so far, so Jungkook will just have to hope that he doesn’t come across too weird or gross.

Resigned to his fate, Jungkook traces the familiar path back to the sheds, leaving the sparkling pond behind in the late afternoon light. Giant blue dragonflies flit through the air, light shifting across their iridescent bodies and quick flashing wings. Late summer flowers droop heavily over the path, fragrant and saturated with color, their massive petals trailing softly over Jungkook’s shoulders and hair as he slides between two bushes to get to the last shed.

It’s the perfect spot, really. Secluded, half-overgrown, quiet, but still not too far from the pond. He should have tried this first. 

Jungkook comes back into the shed and stops in his tracks. Previously in the shade, the late afternoon sun now suffuses the entire space with golden light, sliding through the missing slats in the shed’s walls and falling across Jimin’s head and shoulders. His hair catches the light like fire as he shakes his head back and wipes a wrist across his brow. Jungkook feels like time is slowing down, like he’s suddenly fallen into a waking dream, unable to move or speak. Then Jimin sees him, and the spell breaks.

“Hey! Wow, what happened to you? You’re soaking wet.”

Jungkook looks down at himself and sees with a sinking heart that Honey’s romp in the pond to catch worms has had an even more devastating effect on his already muddy clothes than he realized. His formerly loose shirt is plastered to his front and soaked through with pond water.

“Um. Sorry. Yeah, it’s Honey. She was in the pond.” 

Jungkook looks up in time to see Jimin shrug. “Ok. Well, if it doesn’t bother you.” He jumps to his feet in a puff of dust, swinging his arms in a dramatic gesture at the structure leaning in the corner of the shed. “Ta-da! What do you think?”

Jungkook looks at what Jimin built, and feels a funny little tug in his chest. The trimmed branches are stacked together from front to back by size, so that the small opening at the front gives onto a wider space inside. The branches are tied together at the bottom where they meet the floor, but aren’t fixed to the shed at the top where they lean against the wall. Something about the rough attempt to match the size of the branches and make it look like a little house is cute to Jungkook. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I think it’s good. We just have to tether it to the wall at the top and fill the inside with moss. Honey will be the real judge, though.”  

Jimin grins at him, apparently delighted by Jungkook’s acceptance of the nest he built, and Jungkook gets that feeling in his chest again.

“I’ll go get the moss, since I’m already all—” Jungkook gestures at himself with his free hand to avoid saying the words since I’m already all wet, which somehow seems like it would make the situation even more awkward.

“Yeah. You are.” Jimin stares at Jungkook’s wet shirt for maybe a touch longer than normal, then snaps his gaze back up to Jungkook’s face. “I wouldn’t mind helping though. It’s so fuckin’ hot in here.” His face splits into another smile, but different this time, smaller and a little shy. “Besides, I can’t reach the top to tether it. I kinda need you to do it.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, ok.” Jungkook looks back and forth between Jimin, standing beside the little house of tree branches, and the place where the branches curl in close to the wall at the top, which is well above Jimin’s head. 

“Umm— Honey probably won’t go in there without the moss anyway, so I still have to carry her around. Why don’t we go get it together?”

“Sounds perfect.” Jimin breezes past Jungkook, running a hand through his wild pink hair. Jungkook wonders how he got it to be that color. The only way he knows of is magic, but with the way Jimin reacted to Honey’s magic and to the idea of mages in general when he first arrived, Jungkook doesn’t think that can be the answer.

Back out at the pond, it’s Jungkook’s favorite time of day. Golden hour at the rescue extends for several slow liquid hours in the summer before melting ineffably into blue twilight. The wind sparkles with flitting dragonfly wings, and a few rabbits are playing in the tall grass across the pond, leaping in the falling dusk like little living shadows. 

They don’t talk much as they gather moss, but a couple times Jungkook catches Jimin just sitting back on his haunches and looking around at the rescue like he can’t tell if it’s real or a dream.

Jungkook feels that too sometimes. It’s his own dream brought to life, after all. 

When he thinks they’ve gathered enough, and Honey is half asleep in Jungkook’s shadow, they go back to finish the nest.

Yoongi shows up with a lantern to summon them to dinner as they’re lining the little structure with the last of the moss, and Jungkook enlists him to hold a grumpy, sleepy Honey for a few minutes while he finishes securing the top of the shelter.

When they’re done, Honey walks right in, curls her massive tail around herself, and lays her big broad head on a pile of moss, staring out impassively at them. Within a few minutes, steam is puffing happily from her snout and her eyes are drooping sleepily.

“I think we did it,” Jungkook whispers, voice trembling with excitement. A light little laugh escapes him, and unthinking, he grabs Jimin’s hand and gives it a little shake. Jimin looks back at him, expression open and soft, and doesn’t pull his hand away.

Dinner is quiet, which is fairly normal for Jungkook and Yoongi, and it’s not as awkward as it could be. They’re always exhausted by the end of the day. Jimin fits into this dynamic with surprising ease, and compliments Yoongi’s cooking effusively, which Jungkook sees Yoongi pretending not to be pleased about. 

The air is full of the song of crickets and cicadas when Jungkook leads Jimin to the cabins. He’s lucky Yoongi convinced him they should build three of them, otherwise one of them would have had to bunk with Jimin for three months.

No. That doesn’t make sense. He and Yoongi would have been the ones to stay together, since they already know each other. Obviously that’s how that would work.

In the soft twilight, Jungkook rambles off everything he thinks Jimin might need to know about his living quarters and what their life is like here, the ups and downs and quirks unique to living in nature (insects are everywhere, and the nearest neighbors are rich people with sprawling countryside estates, but on the bright side there’s a natural hot spring within walking distance), and finally, what time they usually meet for breakfast to divide up the day’s tasks. When Jimin hears that Jungkook isn’t about to go into his own cabin, but is going to go feed all the animals before turning in for the night, he demands to go with him to see how it’s done. Jungkook can’t figure out a good reason to say no, and in fact he realizes he doesn’t really want to say no. So instead of leaving Jimin at his cabin for the night, they head back toward the animal enclosures together, a single lantern swinging between them in the growing dusk, magical rainbow-colored fireflies circling them like tiny planets orbiting in the night.

✧

The first week goes like this: Jimin shadows Jungkook everywhere, catching on quickly and game to try everything, and Jungkook observes.

He has a reason to observe him, obviously. He has to make sure Jimin understands how to care for the animals, that he isn’t either too afraid or too aggressive with them, that he’s able to follow Jungkook’s lead and apply what he’s learned. For someone who was sent here for getting in trouble with the law, he’s surprisingly good at following directions.

Jungkook also observes a few other contradictions:

Jimin laughs easily, but sometimes his good humor can turn sharp as a knife.

Jimin expresses himself with his entire body, but he doesn’t like to be touched without warning.

Jimin has an incredibly high opinion of himself, but he doesn’t seem to consider any task beneath him.

Jimin is good at getting people to talk, but hardly reveals a single personal detail about himself.

Jungkook has never met anyone even remotely like him.

Yoongi doesn’t like him. Or he doesn’t trust him, which is kind of the same thing when it comes to Yoongi.

The thing is, it’s not that Jungkook trusts him already. That would be ridiculous.

Jungkook doesn’t trust him, but it doesn’t matter. He likes him anyway.

It’s kind of a scary feeling. It makes Jungkook not want to trust himself either. It makes him feel like his entire world is slightly off its axis, and now he’s rotating to a new rhythm, undetectable at first but before he knows it he’s miles away from his usual path, burning through the skies of an entirely different universe, unable to recognize the person he thought he was.

Jungkook doesn’t want to be afraid of Jimin. That’s the worst part. He kind of wants to just let go and follow him there, to see what that new universe is like.

For the first time in his life, he wants to be a little careless. He wants to let himself fall, not because he wants it to hurt, but because he wants to know what it feels like for someone to catch him.

✧

“Ahh, no— Jimin, don’t put your hands there—”

“Don’t worry, Kook-ah, he won’t bite me. Will you, sweetheart?”

Jungkook suppresses a shiver at the way Jimin’s voice goes all low and velvety when he’s talking to Curry, the angry little eight-legged calico cat whose fangs are currently dripping dark purple venom a few centimeters away from Jimin’s unprotected hands. 

Jungkook is the one wearing gloves. He was supposed to be the one holding Curry and gently prying his mouth open so that Jimin could drop medicine down his throat, but that was before Curry flipped over the table and smashed the entire glass front of the medicine cabinet, and somewhere in there the plan just kind of went to shit.

Jungkook is extremely skeptical that this isn’t going to end with Jimin getting bitten the second Jungkook feeds Curry the medicine. He can see it playing out in his mind’s eye. He knows firsthand how painful Curry’s venom is. Not because he was ever bitten, but because he decided to drink a little bit of it once, just so he’d know what would happen if someone did get bit. Yoongi didn’t stop lecturing him about that for weeks.

“It’s ok. He likes me.” Jimin sounds proud, and he’s looking down at Curry’s wrathful, hissing face cupped in his hands like it’s the face of a favorite child. If Jungkook suspends all sense of reason, he’d almost think Jimin likes how much Curry is putting up a fight.

That’s an alarming thought, but he doesn’t suppose there are any better options right now.

“Ok. Just— just keep holding him, make sure your hands aren’t too loose, because he’s gonna squirm—”

With that, Jungkook sinks onto his haunches, keeping his movements low and steady, limbs tucked in, blinking slowly at Curry’s angry little face. “Three, two, one—”

A few things happen in rapid succession— Jungkook drops the medicine with perfect aim down Curry’s throat; Jimin squeezes gently at the corners of Curry’s jaw, causing him to convulsively swallow every drop of medicine; and then, Curry launches forward out of Jimin’s grasp like a rocket, snapping his jaws so close to Jungkook’s face that he can feel the hot rush of breath on his skin— 

Until Jimin hits Jungkook square in the chest, pushing him backwards onto his ass while Curry latches onto Jimin’s unprotected forearm and makes an awful gulping sound deep in his throat, which Jungkook knows from experience is the sound of him unloading several milligrams of venom into a victim.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Any danger to himself forgotten, Jungkook seizes Jimin’s arm to hold him still and grips the back of Curry’s neck with his other hand, squeezing firmly until he feels the telltale slackening of the little cat’s body as the scruffing takes effect. 

As he lifts Curry gently away from Jimin, he can clearly see two round little punctures just above Jimin’s wrist, leaking dark venom across his skin.

Now hanging peacefully in midair, Curry makes a soft little mrrr sound.

Jungkook sighs and puts him down. Step one is always, always to remain calm.

Jungkook grabs the first aid kit off the wall and starts sifting quickly through the medicine bottles in the cabinet, which are now inconveniently coated in broken glass. “I’m gonna get the antidote, just try to stay calm, ok?”

Jimin doesn’t seem to need the reminder though. He doesn’t even seem to be in pain, which definitely doesn’t track with Jungkook’s experience of Curry’s venom. He’s weirdly relaxed in fact, trailing a hand down Curry’s back and cooing as Curry climbs into Jimin’s lap and starts licking at the bite mark on his arm.

“Um. Jimin? Doesn’t it hurt? Like, a lot?”

Jimin looks up from petting Curry, who seems to have melted into a satisfied pile in Jimin’s lap now that the threat of medicine is over. Jungkook doesn’t understand how Jimin can be so calm when venom must be burning through every inch of his arm like liquid fire.

“Nah. It doesn’t hurt. His venom comes from magic, right? I’m probably immune.”

Jungkook just stares at him, on the verge of asking Jimin what he means by this, until the door to the medical room slams open.

Yoongi is standing in the doorway taking in the scene, and he looks fucking pissed.

“Jungkook. What the fuck is this?”

“Um. Hyung? We gave Curry his medicine. You were— you were busy with the accounting, so…” Jungkook doesn’t want to say his full thought, which is that Yoongi was sitting at his desk grumbling and throwing papers around, and Jungkook figured it was best to let him be rather than risk his wrath at being disturbed.

His plan seems to have backfired, because now Yoongi looks furious. He jabs a finger at Jungkook. “YOU should have known better. And YOU—”

He rounds on Jimin, but before he can accuse him of anything, he catches sight of the obvious bite mark on his arm. 

For a moment, all three of them are silent, and Jungkook feels a weird mix of shame and anger building in him, words fighting their way to resolve into a response that will defuse the situation. He hates to be spoken to like a child.

Surprisingly, Jimin breaks the silence first, rising neatly to his feet and crunching unconcernedly through the broken glass to take the first aid kit from Jungkook, Curry perching contentedly on his shoulder with his tail looped over Jimin’s neck like an arm thrown over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I don’t need the antidote. Help me with this?”

Jungkook’s hands move automatically, opening the disinfectant and wetting a swab to wipe carefully over the site of the bite. It’s not even swollen, the skin smooth around the little fang marks like it was just the bite of an ordinary cat. It seems Jimin is right, he doesn’t need the antidote, but Jungkook doesn’t understand why, or how Jimin could have known that.

Yoongi steps closer, arms folded, not ready to let it slide. Jungkook doesn’t look at him.

“Park Jimin. What are the rules around this place?”

Jimin’s voice is light, like he can’t tell Yoongi is trying to chastise him. “Yeah, I know, I know. I have to do everything Jungkook tells me.”

A wordless sound forces its way out of Jungkook’s chest, unfortunately more of an indignant squeak than a growl. Thankfully nobody comments on it.

Yoongi stares coolly at Jimin, like he thinks Jungkook isn’t even part of the conversation. “Not quite. You have to do everything he tells you when it comes to the animals, or we kick you out of here and you go back to prison.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes, throwing his head back and raising his shoulders dramatically, like the emotion associated with his eyeroll is traveling through his entire body. In spite of the fact that the expression is currently being weaponized against his and Yoongi’s authority, Jungkook almost starts laughing at it. Curry is still clinging to Jimin’s shoulder, tail thwacking softly against Jimin’s chest like a reminder not to move so much.

“I wasn’t in prison, hyung. Namjoon-hyung wouldn’t put me in prison. He sent me out of the city for my own safety. I’m a wanted man in many ways.”

Jungkook manages to swallow the sound of his laughter, but he can’t stop the little smile from sneaking across his face as he carefully finishes bandaging Jimin’s arm. He appreciates Jimin for giving him a moment, however unintentional, to focus on a task and sort himself out so he didn’t end up shouting back at Yoongi.

Jimin sees his smile mid-speech, and looks sideways at him, eyes crinkling like they’re sharing a joke. It makes Jungkook feel a brief flutter of warmth. How is it that Jimin seems to understand what he needs without being told, without even knowing him that well?

Yoongi, of course, sees the look. “You think this is funny, Kook-ah? Since when did you get so careless? All it takes is a handsome criminal waltzing in here for you to forget that you founded this place to protect animals from people like him?”

Jungkook’s head snaps up to stare at Yoongi in disbelief. He doesn’t even look that angry. His face is frighteningly still, eyebrows drawn down, shaking his head like he’s disappointed in Jungkook. Like he really believes what he’s saying. Jungkook feels sick.

“Hyung. What? Don’t say that about him, that’s not—”

Yoongi cuts him off before he can even finish his sentence. “So you’ll defend him but not even defend yourself? I thought this place mattered more to you. You’re not even going to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Jungkook.” At first he thinks Jimin is saying his name because of how tightly he’s started to grip Jimin’s wrist as Yoongi’s words dig into him, and it takes Jungkook a second to understand that Jimin is actually just trying to redirect his attention. “Ignore him. He’s just trying to bait you.”

“And you’re trying to manipulate him.” Yoongi cuts in before Jungkook can speak, before he can even process how to respond. He forces himself to release Jimin’s wrist, even though it feels like he’s drifting at sea without an anchor.

Jimin cuts his eyes over to Yoongi, but his reply is surprisingly diplomatic, considering. “You’re just being dramatic, hyung. We weren’t careless. Of course nobody meant to smash up the place. Curry can’t help it, he’s an animal. I’ll clean it up, ok?”

“Don’t act like you’re the responsible one. You don’t even belong here. You’ve been here for a week and you think you can push him around? Just because Jungkook can’t see through you doesn’t mean you can do whatever the hell you—”

“Shut UP! Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” The words finally burst out of Jungkook, frantic, forestalling the tears he’s trying to hold back. He hates this. He hates when he gets like this, when he can’t find the words fast enough, when he knows what other people are saying is wrong but it’s happening too quickly for him to do anything about it. Like he’s watching a bad movie, passive and powerless on the wrong side of the screen. 

“Jungkook.” Jimin says his name softly, but not like a warning, not like he’s ashamed of him. He says it like an apology. He has that open, surprised look that Jungkook hasn’t seen much, like he forgot to hide his true feelings from showing on his face. Curry also stares wide-eyed from Jimin’s shoulder, and Jungkook is flooded with guilt.

Yoongi, on the other hand, just looks frustrated. “Jungkook-ah. I know you’re upset, but you can’t let him play you like this. I could never forgive myself if I let you lose everything you’ve—”

“You don’t have to let me do anything! It isn’t your job to control me!” Jungkook has that dizzy, sick feeling he sometimes gets when he’s at his limit, like his consciousness has ejected from his body, limbs far away and fuzzy, everything too loud and bright like the protective barrier of his physical form has evaporated. He’s never fought like this with Yoongi before, not ever. Yoongi is the one constant in his life, the one person who always stays, who has never abandoned him.

“Hey.” Jungkook feels a sudden pressure around one hand that he belatedly understands is Jimin squeezing it between his own hands. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Jungkook breathes. 

“Slow. That’s it.” A sudden throbbing behind his eyes as the air rushes back into his body tells Jungkook that he hasn’t really been breathing in a while. He can’t see anything but Jimin. The light on his hair is suddenly fascinating, a riot of pink peach gold that shifts from strand to strand as he moves.

“Here. Can you sit down?” Jungkook lets Jimin move him into a chair, and when Jimin plops Curry into his lap, Jungkook runs his fingers gently through his fur, feeling his purr vibrate to life under Jungkook’s familiar hands. 

Jimin grabs a broom from the corner. “I’m gonna clean up now.” He’s speaking slowly and calmly, almost like he’s narrating his actions. Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s for his benefit or Yoongi’s. 

Yoongi is standing there watching them, but Jungkook can’t look at him right now. He doesn’t want to see his disappointment or his disgust or whatever it is that he thinks of Jungkook. It’s too soon for Jungkook to know what to feel other than gut-wrenching fear, to know what to say other than stop hurting me or even worse, please don’t leave me.

Jungkook takes another slow, shaking breath, and focuses on the feeling of Curry’s cloud-soft fur and rumbling purrs beneath his hands.

From the blurred corner of his vision he sees Yoongi finally turn away from him, and gesture unconcernedly toward the medicine cabinet.

“Don’t bother. I’ll get it.”

And he does something Jungkook has only seen him do a handful of times, when something really expensive or important has gone wrong at the rescue, something it would cost too much or be too complex to fix the usual way. 

He reverses it.

Miniscule fragments of glass lift into the air like glitter and drift from the floor, from the fallen table, from the shelves of the medicine cabinet, from beneath the broom in Jimin’s hand and reassemble themselves in soft tinkling sounds, sparkles coalescing into a smooth seamless pane of glass sealed firmly in the door of the cabinet, like it had never been broken. 

The silence is absolute. Jungkook looks at Yoongi, his shock at seeing Yoongi use hard-won magic for such an insignificant thing overriding the fear and distress of a moment ago. He’s looking at Yoongi, so he doesn’t see Jimin’s reaction.

No one is moving, and then Jimin is, like a bolt of lightning, a force of nature that you can only witness but can’t do anything to stop. 

Jimin slams into Yoongi, pushing him up against the wall with the handle of the broom pressed across his neck. Jungkook registers with shock that he somehow managed to immobilize Yoongi’s right hand as well, the broom handle angled across to pin his wrist up as Jimin yanks the long sleeve of Yoongi’s shirt down to his elbow. 

The tattoos covering Yoongi’s right arm are revealed, thick nested lines dark and swirling in a pattern like ocean waves. Jungkook has always found it very soothing to look at. When Jimin sees it he lets out an animal sound like the hiss of a cat.

“I knew it. You fucking scum.”

Yoongi looks incredibly calm and focused, which Jungkook knows means he thinks he’s a step ahead. “Of course you knew. Anyone would. Could we run a place like this entirely without magic?”

“You lied to me. Both of you.”

Something trembles through Jungkook’s chest at that, a crack opening into a gaping hole, as he realizes the depth of this misunderstanding. His voice comes out timid and soft, but at least it comes out. “But— but Yoongi isn’t a mage anymore, Jimin, he—”

Jimin cuts him off with another terrible animal sound, something halfway between a scream and a roar. Jungkook doesn’t know how Yoongi can bear that so close to his face.

But he just looks at Jimin and lets out a little huff like this is a minor tantrum and not something that’s cracking Jungkook’s chest in two. “This wasn’t our choice either, you know? It was never going to work. We asked for animals from the city shelters and instead they sent us someone who’s afraid of magic.”

Jimin laughs then, but it’s a wild sharp sound that makes the splintering thing in Jungkook’s chest crack open further. 

“So sweet of you to keep your little secret just to make me feel at home. But I’m not scared of you. I don’t need magic. I’m just as dangerous without it.”

Jimin moves fast and fluid as water, his free hand darting up to Yoongi’s throat where he still has him pinned, and before anything worse can happen Jungkook stands up.

He barely hears the chair clatter backwards as he goes to them with Curry still in his arms, taking care to be gentle even in his haste although getting bitten is the least of his worries now. He comes beside Jimin, as close as he can get without touching him, Curry a soft bundle against his chest. Still safe.

He can see the tendons jutting out in Jimin’s neck, the white at his knuckles where he’s holding Yoongi against the wall, the lines of anguish pulling his face taut. He stopped moving when Jungkook came close, just like Jungkook hoped he would.

Jungkook forces himself to speak, even though his voice is shaking a lot more than he thought.

“Jimin? Please don’t. He wouldn’t hurt you. We never would. He’s— he’s pushing you, he doesn’t trust you so he’s pushing you to see how far you’ll go, which is awful and I wish he would stop but he’d never hurt you. Please. Please, Jimin—”

From Jungkook’s gentle hold, Curry makes a soft curious mrrp? sound, and rises in Jungkook’s arms like he’s thinking about climbing over to Jimin. “No, baby—” 

Because he looks down to pull Curry closer, Jungkook doesn’t see Jimin step back. He just looks up to see Jimin further away than before, now empty handed, looking at Yoongi like he’s a piece of mildly interesting wall art instead of a person who’s been goading him for the past few minutes. Two bright spots of blood are already showing through the fresh bandage on his arm. 

Yoongi’s back is still against the wall, and there’s a harsh red mark across the front of his neck. His face is frozen, carefully closed off, but Jungkook can see from the way his chest moves how quickly he’s breathing.  

For a heartbeat, nothing happens, then Jimin turns to look at Jungkook. His eyes look glassy and dead, the light in them distant and feverish, the way animals in poachers’ cages sometimes look. 

When his voice comes, it’s clear and slow again, the voice he uses when he’s trying his hardest to be careful with the recipient of his words. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

Jungkook doesn’t even get to see him leave the room, because when Jimin walks away he’s already crying.

✧

Jimin waits until the sun rises to take his leave. Even if Min Yoongi thinks he’s a worthless criminal, he’s still not going to just slink out in the middle of the night. He wonders what Namjoon is going to say when he learns Jimin only lasted a week before threatening the only employee of Kook’s Animal Rescue and making the owner cry. 

Whatever. Jimin knows a burnt bridge when he sees one. Especially when he’s the one to do the burning.

The rescue is beautiful at dawn before the heat of the day hits. The air tastes green and cool and everything is sparkling with dew. Feeling wistful, Jimin briefly considers saying goodbye to the animals, or maybe just saying bye to Curry, but he thinks about how awkward it would be if Jungkook or Yoongi were to catch him at it when he already said he’d get the fuck out, so he just walks straight to the front gate.

When he walks briskly down the path to the gate, Jungkook is sitting on the ground waiting for him.

He stands up when he sees Jimin coming, and he’s already fixing Jimin with a round-eyed glare, lips bunched into a little pout like he’s deeply offended even though neither of them have spoken yet. It might be a more effective look if Jimin hadn’t seen him make the same face at a bowl of makguksu earlier in the week.

At least he isn’t crying again. Jimin doesn’t know how he would have coped with that. There’s only so much running away he can do in a 24 hour period.

Jungkook just keeps glaring at him in that big bright-eyed way that makes Jimin think his own soul might actually be visible, so he’s getting ready to say sorry again when Jungkook finally speaks. “Come walk with me, please?”

Jimin looks down to see that Jungkook is holding out his hand, that soul x-ray look still firm on his face. Apparently he wants Jimin to take his hand and walk with him. 

Shrugging his bag onto his shoulder, Jimin takes Jungkook’s hand in his and lets Jungkook tug them back down the path and into the trees. 

Jungkook’s grip is warm and certain as he leads him further into the trees. He’s different than Jimin imagined he’d be if they ran into each other before he left. He’s unhesitant, determined and sure in a way he only gets about things related to the animals, at least that Jimin has seen so far. 

And so, thinking it might be something important, Jimin lets himself be led. Jungkook eventually pulls him through a break in the trees into a field of tall wildflowers, bright little blots of pink purple orange blue swaying in the morning breeze. Jungkook tugs him off to the side without slowing down, and plops himself down at the base of a tree broad enough for them both to lean against. 

Jimin is left standing for a moment, still tethered to Jungkook’s firm grip and looking down at him in bemusement. 

“Jungkook?”

“Can you sit with me for a minute?”

He’s wearing much the same expression as before, but his mouth is pressed from a pout into a firm line that creases his cheeks and makes his small dimples visible. Jimin sits.

The meadow has that strong outdoors smell he sometimes gets through the windows of a fast tram in summer, what Jimin always assumed was the smell of things growing in abundance somewhere far outside the city. He never thought he’d be in the place where that smell originated. He doesn’t know what any of these flowers are called.

It was kind of Jungkook to share this place with him before he leaves. But Jungkook has always been kind, ever since Jimin came here.

“Jimin. I’m sorry.” Jimin turns back to Jungkook, caught off guard. The early morning sunlight glancing off the meadow is lining his dark hair with a reddish glow.

“I never meant to lie to you. I just— I know Yoongi. He hasn’t been a mage for a long time. He stopped because he disagreed with it and he couldn’t hurt animals for power the way they all do, the way they expected him to, so he quit. And now he’s here helping animals instead. So I thought— I didn’t think it would make a difference, who he used to be, because he’s not like that anymore. Or he’s not defined by that. I don’t know.”

Before saying anything, Jimin just looks at him first. His head is bowed, and he’s clasping his hands around his bent knees like he’s trying to hold himself together. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it again, but his voice is so quiet, like he’s forcing it up from a secret place. “If I had known how much it would hurt you I would have told you. I wouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to lie to you. I’m sorry.” 

Jimin can’t bear that what has Jungkook looking and acting so ashamed is his own bad behavior, his own desire to prove he isn’t weak. He reaches over and uses one hand to gently, gently lift Jungkook’s chin. 

“Hey. There’s no way you could have known because I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry too. For the way I reacted. For scaring you. For hurting Yoongi. I’m sorry for all of it.”

Though he means what he’s saying, Jimin still feels struck by that strange resonance he gets around Jungkook, the feeling that someone else has the uncanny power to put his own feelings into words before he can even speak them. He makes his voice soft and low, steady where Jungkook’s is faint and uncertain, trying to soothe him with the sound alone.

“Thank you for telling me about Yoongi. I get why he wouldn’t want to tell someone he just met about his past. I think I get it.” Jimin feels the breath whistle out of his chest, shakily, and realizes he’s more afraid than he thought. Of what, though, he doesn’t quite understand. It feels like something big, what he’s about to do, even though he’s done it a hundred times before.

“You deserve an explanation too. If you want it.” He stops himself from saying unless you just want me to go. He thinks he knows how stressful that would be for Jungkook, an ultimatum instead of the time he needs to think and feel his way through it.

Jungkook’s hand tightens on his, and Jimin remembers that they’re still holding hands. Jungkook looks back at Jimin with clear eyes and his answer is quick and sure.

“I want it. If you want to tell me then I want to hear it.”

Jimin concentrates on his own breathing for a moment, steadying himself, and doesn’t take his eyes off Jungkook. Somehow it feels easier this way, looking into his wide trusting eyes and holding his hands. There’s something calming about him, like he’s a safe place in the form of a person. Maybe it’s the same quality that makes the animals feel like they can trust him too, why Jimin feels so comfortable with this stranger whose life couldn’t be more different than his own.

“You know from Yoongi a little of what mages in the city do. How they gather their power. But he hasn’t been there in a while, and he never worked in the highest circles. I know that, because—” 

Jimin stops, but only for a heartbeat, just to let the full beauty of this moment sink in before he loses it, to absorb everything, the smell and color of the morning meadow, Jungkook’s sweet serious gaze on him, the way the sunlight glows in the waves of Jungkook’s hair in a soft halo. He hopes he can always remember this. 

“—because I was one of their lab rats. When we were kids, me and my best friend were imprisoned for, I dunno, a couple years or so. It was hard to tell. It was what they use animals for, the same, and they treated us like animals too. They took pieces of us, and experimented on us. That’s why Curry couldn’t hurt me, and why I’m—” He gestures at his bright pink hair by way of example. “But we got out.”

Speech over, horror released into the small space of the peaceful meadow, Jimin stares without seeing for a moment, his vision flickering, the bright meadow blotted out, getting lost in a dark storm that threatens to take him. He unhitches his throat from half-collapse and breathes, slow, slow.

But we got out. No matter how many times he tells it, he always needs the reminder. He’s not used to telling this story without all the rage and rhetoric, the myth he’s built it up into so that people can’t hurt him with it.

He forces himself to refocus on Jungkook’s face. “Sorry. I’m not usually that torn up about it still. It feels different when I’m talking to you, like— a confession, or something. But it’s just one thing, you know? It’s not all of me.”

Jimin stops abruptly when he sees the look on Jungkook’s face. 

He looks gutted, and a little like someone just hit him, shocked and wounded, face split open with emotion. His eyes are huge and wet with unshed tears, his eyebrows crumpled, pink mouth slightly open. He looks so unguarded, so defenseless, that rather than feel ashamed, Jimin feels a sudden powerful rush of protectiveness. He doesn’t want to take back his words, but he wants to protect Jungkook from the implications of them, from needing to comprehend the depths of evil that some people will stoop to in the name of power. 

But Jungkook isn’t a child, and he doesn’t need Jimin’s protection, so Jimin keeps going. He thinks he owes it to them both.

“It’s a long fucked up story, but that’s kind of why I’m here now. Me and my best friend and everyone else with us, we rescue orphans. We break them out and take them in, give them a place to stay if they don’t have family, and we expose the mages. We’re trying to run them out of the city, out of polite society, make it impossible for them to keep doing it. Make it so that people hate them. So that there’s no place for them to hide.”

“Jimin.” Jungkook’s voice is strong but shaking, like he’s pushing himself to speak through emotion. “Can I hug you?”

“Oh.” Jimin’s eyes fall to where Jungkook is still holding his hands in the small space between where they sit. A sprinkling of tiny white wildflowers grows there, little bright dots like stars against the dark sea of grass. 

“Yeah, you can hug me.”

The words have barely left Jimin’s mouth before he’s swallowed whole by the firm warmth of Jungkook’s embrace. It’s firm and soft at the same time, like being enclosed by a strong protective pillow. He can feel the strength in it, as well as the care Jungkook is taking to be gentle, to not squeeze too hard. Jimin lets his head fall forward, forehead resting lightly against the side of Jungkook’s neck. It’s a good hug.

When Jungkook leans back it’s a little like shrinking. His shoulders tuck towards his ears and he dips his chin, biting his lip, becoming small. Without thinking, Jimin puts his hand under Jungkook’s chin again, lightly lifting it up until he meets his eyes.

“Sorry. That’s a weird thing to spring on someone. I guess I didn’t want you to think I was just crazy or something. I mean, I probably am a little, but not for no reason.” Jimin lets out a throaty little laugh. He can’t help it, but something about the huffy look on Jungkook’s face makes the moment suddenly funnier than it should be.

“Jimin. Don’t say that about yourself. You’re not crazy. There’s nothing wrong with you. Everything is wrong with the people that did that to you. I’m sorry for— for making you feel like I thought you were crazy. For making it seem like you had to tell me about it in order for you to stay.”

Jimin’s body locks up for half a second at the words that just tumbled out of Jungkook’s mouth.

“Jungkook—”

He watches as Jungkook’s hands dart up to cover his ears, but not before Jimin can see them turning pink. 

“Don’t go, Jimin. Please don’t go. That’s what I wanted to, what I meant to say, I mean— Yoongi still has to apologize to you too, he wants to, but I wanted to talk to you first, in case— we didn’t want to pressure you if you don’t want to see him again. Fuck, sorry, I messed this up—”

“No you didn’t.” Jimin can feel his voice going low and soft again, the tension draining out of him. He reaches up to take Jungkook’s hands back.

Jungkook lets it happen. Jimin traces his thumbs lightly over the backs of Jungkook’s hands, looking at the pink flush in Jungkook’s cheeks, the few tiny tears that are still clinging to his eyelashes, unshed. He pushes down the urge to do something truly ridiculous, like pet Jungkook’s cheeks or smooth a hand through his hair. Sometimes, in the rare moments when he feels too overwhelmed to speak, he finds it’s easier to express himself through touch.

“I don’t get it. You were already gonna ask me to stay? After what happened yesterday? It’s hard for me to believe Yoongi would agree to that. Doesn’t he think I’m a lowlife?”

Jungkook glares at him, gaze equally fierce and tearful, like he said something offensive about one of the animals. “He doesn’t think that. He was just being an asshole. I understand if you’re mad at him though. He’s really protective but that doesn’t mean—”

“Jungkook. I’m sorry to interrupt you.” Jimin just looks at him for a moment, waiting until Jungkook accepts and gives a solemn little nod acknowledging he’s ready to listen. “I just wanted you to know I’m not mad at him. Not anymore. So it’s ok, you don’t need to worry.”

Jungkook’s brow unfurrows and something less certain, almost stunned and bewildered, filters in. Even when they’re in the throes of a conversation like this, Jimin can’t help but love how expressive he is.

“You’re really not mad? But. He. We lied to you. He’s not like the mages who hurt you, but he still does magic. Sort of.”

Jimin releases a long, slow breath. He never thought he’d meet a mage whom he’d hesitate to tear into pieces. He never has before. There are some things that pull at the very core of him, things that make him think— if the me of a week ago could see the future, he’d burn this place down in a heartbeat. 

He wonders if he’s really changed that much in a week.

“I’m not mad anymore. I promise. He’s just doing what he thinks he has to in order to protect what he loves. I get it. How would he know what I’m like? Sometimes a strong defense is necessary.”

Jimin wills himself to look back up from their still joined hands at Jungkook’s face. He looks so raw, like the emotions inside of him are doing battle on his face. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s still trying not to cry or if he’s feeling something else, now.

Instead of saying anything, Jungkook makes a low sound in his throat that could reasonably be mistaken for a growl, and bends forward until his forehead is resting against their clasped hands. Jimin feels a fond smile tug its way onto his face, impossible to repress when Jungkook is so cute even in the midst of a crisis.

He gives into impulse and releases one of Jungkook’s hands to slide his hand back through Jungkook’s hair. It’s soft and thick, curls catching gently in his grip. Jungkook’s groan of suffering tapers off into something more like a purr, and he shifts his head a little further down so that it’s resting fully in Jimin’s lap. 

“I was supposed to be convincing you to stay. Why are you comforting me?” His voice is slow and sticky, so relaxed, like he hasn’t bothered to lift his face from where the side of it is pressed into Jimin’s leg. Jimin feels a funny little squeeze in his chest, a feeling he usually only gets when he’s with Taehyung or Hoseok, the people he trusts the most.

He looks down at Jungkook, tracing the shape of his profile with his eyes as his hand strokes through his hair. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. You’re cute.”

Jimin gets a front row seat to the way Jungkook’s cheeks turn pink and his eyes close at that. He makes a little sound like a cutoff word, something he’s going to say that stays inside. Slowly, maybe reluctantly, he sits up and looks at Jimin. There’s a little crease mark pressed into one cheek from the fabric of Jimin’s trousers.

“I mean it, you know. I want you to feel safe here. I don’t want you to think we need to protect ourselves from you. Will you promise to tell me if there’s something we can do to make you feel comfortable?”

Jimin feels his face pull into a lopsided smile. Jungkook’s expression has gone all serious again. Jimin has never met anyone who acts so sweet for absolutely no reason.

“Yeah. I think talking to Yoongi is a good idea. I should do that before I decide to stay.”

Jimin looks down at his hand in Jungkook’s, the one place they’re still touching. “I want to apologize to him too. And I need to hear it from him. Everything you told me.”

Jungkook nods a few times, big eyes still fixed on Jimin like he’s engraving these words in his heart.

Instead of answering with words, he pulls on Jimin’s hand again, and falls sideways into the grass, his weight on Jimin’s arm eventually pulling him down beside him.

Jimin hits the ground softly. The grass is still slightly damp, but he knows it will be hot out soon. He looks up at the sky through the trees above their heads, and he holds onto Jungkook’s hand.

✧

» Two weeks later «

Morning light washes soft and golden over the pond, and Jimin breathes in, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles as his body wakes to the day. 

His days at the rescue have a rhythm to them now, a very different one from the routine he kept in the city. He gets up before dawn and tends to a certain few of the animals in the quiet before sunrise, and before meeting Jungkook and Yoongi for breakfast, he comes here.

The trickle of the stream lifts a cool wet smell into the air beneath the shade of the trees, shifting and throwing dappled patterns over Jimin’s folded legs, over his hands resting still in the grass. The rescue is alive around him, stirring to meet the day, but he focuses on his breathing, and the soft splashing sound of the water moving past.

On the other side of the pond, Jungkook is doing something with Honey that involves getting into the water up to his waist. He’s using his most patient voice with her, and he laughs a little when she lazily sends a small wave of water towards him with her humongous tail. The water breaks across his stomach and chest, separating into sparkling drops that cling to him and make him shine in the light.

“Park Jimin. Are you still meditating or should I throw you in the pond?”

Jimin leans over to give Yoongi’s shoulder a push. “Go ahead and try it. See what happens.” Yoongi sways with Jimin’s push and settles back again, completely unfazed. Jimin tucks himself back into his neat seated position and closes his eyes, determined to shut out even the most appealing distractions (Jungkook, wet and laughing in the morning sun) for at least a few more minutes before they all meet for breakfast.

That’s another thing that’s different, now. The most different thing of all, the thing that would have felt like sacrilege to Jimin if he hadn’t lived through it, hadn’t fought and scoured his soul and learned to breathe in a new reality, here in the outskirts of the city that might as well be the bottom of the ocean or the surface of the moon for how much it’s ceased to resemble his life before.

He never thought of himself as a pushover, someone who gives up and changes their mind easily under pressure. In fact, with the immense pressure he’s absorbed over the years, he should have hardened into a diamond several times over by now, clutching fast to the clear and incontrovertible truth at his core, which is that mages are the parasitic scum of the earth, and there’s no safe place for anyone else as long as they’re allowed to go unchecked.

He still knows that, in the bone-deep, heart-deep way he’s always known it. 

But then, there’s Yoongi. 

Somehow, there’s a place for him in Jimin’s world, too. 

Yoongi, who taught Jimin to meditate, and gets up well before him to do it for hours every morning. Yoongi, who found a way to grow his magic slowly and peacefully, like a tree growing over decades, drawing slow strength up from the soil, drawing in slow rain from the heavens. Yoongi who used to be a mage, but didn’t want to hurt any living thing for the sake of his power, so he found another way. Yoongi who left the city and turned his back on that cutthroat place, who never knew about mages like the one who kept Jimin and Tae locked up in a cell for months and months, slowly cutting away at them until they were feral enough and fierce enough and lucky enough to escape.

Yoongi never knew about that particular practice. He was quiet for so long after Jimin told him, but it wasn’t a lost or dismissive kind of quiet. Jimin could tell it was all-encompassing, the kind of quiet that knows there’s nothing that can be said to address the enormity of what sits in the silence. He just nodded and offered to teach Jimin to meditate, and Jimin said yes. 

Jimin can’t decide if it’s a shame or not, that Yoongi never knew the worst of what mages do. He wonders if things would have been different, if someone like Yoongi had known about it, or even if someone like Namjoon had known about it sooner. 

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi is only a couple years older than Jimin himself. There’s nothing he could have done for Jimin that Jimin couldn’t do for himself.

It’s not like anyone could have saved him.

That’s the most dangerous type of thinking, the road he can’t ever go down, unless he wants to let himself crumble. He has to be as strong as a warrior, as strong as a god, his own avenging angel. He has to hold on to that power. He has to believe it.

The reality is that there’s no practical use for what Yoongi does, at least not that Jimin can see how to exploit. But there is something true in it, and that’s what hurts. Something that aches so bad it feels like it could eat a hole in him if he’d let it, to know that this is the way magic could be practiced, without hurting anyone or anything at all, but that so many people have to suffer for it anyway, just so a few worthless men can get ahead in life.

The people who imprison children to suck them dry of their life bit by bit wouldn’t be so willing to give it all up, the seemingly endless power, just to do things the right way. The hard way. They wouldn’t ration their magic carefully the way Yoongi does, building it slowly over time, saving it up for when it really counts. 

People who have never starved can never crave moderation. All they can do is take. That’s only one thing Jimin has learned, but he won’t ever forget it.

These are the thoughts that haunted him when Yoongi explained in his quiet serious voice, deceptively casual but so so careful, as he revealed himself to Jimin the day he decided not to leave. “Balance is what lets us both survive,” is what he said, as a delicate little bird with feathers like incandescent pearl alighted on his hand and nuzzled carelessly into his open palm for seeds. 

A bird that would be dead within a few weeks in the palm of any other mage.

Jimin doesn’t hate Yoongi. He can’t. He just hates that there aren’t any others like him.

Hoseok used to tell him, You can’t change the entire world in a day. Start with the things you can do right now.

He only has to say that because he knows Jimin won’t ever stop trying, that Jimin would stop at nothing, would burn up his body and soul to take down the mages entirely, to watch their whole corrupt system crumble around them. 

Because every time Jimin starts to think about really listening to Hoseok, about saving his energy, about fighting another day, all he has to do is picture the kids they’ve saved. He’ll remember the first time Soobin ever spoke to him, after weeks of empty-eyed silence, or the first time Yeonjun, the lines of his little body always so tense with suppressed rage, finally relaxed enough to fall asleep curled against his side.

And he’ll remember why he has to have impossible dreams about changing the world.

Yet somehow, he’s stuck here in the middle of nowhere learning to meditate, biding time, sending and receiving endless letters from home, because that’s the only way he can help right now without putting all of them in even more danger.

Well, he certainly isn’t fucking meditating now. Jimin jerks himself out of reverie and lets himself fall back onto the grass, knocking the air from his lungs, and tries to let everything trickle out of his head, all the rage and righteous anger and protectiveness, and hardest of all the hope for something better than the shit society they have now, and tries to just be empty of everything but the sound of the stream.

It works for about thirty seconds, the sun flickering softly behind his closed eyelids, until he starts to fall asleep.

He wakes to someone flicking water in his face.

He sits up fast, swinging up from the grass in hopes of tackling the person he assumes is Yoongi to the ground, gleefully thinking that he won’t see it coming at all.

When the (considerably bigger) body thumps to the ground underneath him and lets out a squeak of surprise, it’s very much not Yoongi.

Jimin is sitting on the ground, straddling Jungkook’s waist, resting his hands on Jungkook’s chest, which is still wet from his adventure in the pond earlier with Honey, and Jungkook is staring up at him with big startled eyes. The hair around his face is wet and shaped into little wavy spikes, dripping gently onto his forehead and cheekbones, his damp skin dazzling bright in the sun. Jungkook is always too bright to look at, like some kind of fairy tale prince. With the way the animals follow him around, he might as well be one.

“It’s time for breakfast.” His voice sounds a little winded, like he’s out of breath, and he’s still staring up at Jimin like he’s never seen him before. Jimin only has a moment to savor the look on his face before Jungkook does something truly unexpected, which is to stand up smoothly, his arms around Jimin to support him, lifting him up off the ground like he weighs nothing, and fully rising to his feet with Jimin’s legs wrapped around his waist.

The momentum of their movement carries Jimin forward a little, so that their noses bump together. He can feel the heat coming off of Jungkook’s body, and the surprised little huff that leaves his mouth when their faces get close.

Impulsively, Jimin curls one hand around the back of Jungkook’s neck, fingers sliding into the soft curls there. “Taking me somewhere, big guy?”

“Um— I— breakfast?” Jungkook’s face is turning pink. Jimin can see it happening in real time, at close range.

“Ok.” Jimin slides slowly out of Jungkook’s grip, settling his feet back on the ground, but not bothering to step out of Jungkook’s space, standing with his boots just on the outside of Jungkook’s, their chests still pressed together. “There’s no need to get grabby. I’m coming.” 

A tingling little thrill passes through him as he steps past Jungkook, leaning his face up to his as he goes, relishing the sharp intake of breath Jungkook makes as their faces get closer, closer, and then the sweet tension breaks as Jimin keeps walking away.

He doesn’t need to look back to know that Jungkook is following him, like a too-bright star drawn to a black hole.

✧

“Don’t worry, it’s bigger than it looks. But we don’t have to do it together, I can do it by myself. I usually do.”

Jimin looks like he’s resisting laughter, but is doing his best to be serious for Jungkook’s sake, which Jungkook guesses he appreciates. He doesn’t know what’s funny about the situation but sometimes Jimin reacts to things in ways he won’t anticipate.

Entering a giant cage is maybe one of those moments. Which is why he’s trying to be sensitive about it.

Jimin makes a show of tilting his head way, way back, like he’s looking for the top of Curry’s enclosure up in the sky. It resembles a schoolyard chain link fence, but freakishly tall, as tall as the tops of the trees, the height of a two story building. The top is domed, curving smoothly over the treetops with no visible gap or join in the fence. Jungkook knows it doesn’t quite look real when you first see it.

“I’m not scared, JK. I’ll help you out.” At least Jimin is back to calling him silly nicknames. Jungkook takes that as a sign he’s getting more comfortable here. “One question though. How’d you get the fence so tall?”

Jungkook looks at Jimin, studying his face to see what kind of answer he’s looking for, since he probably already knows the answer, so Jungkook needs to figure out why he’s really asking.

Jimin cocks his head and does one of those slightly crooked smiles that make Jungkook’s stomach feel warm. “Sorry. You don’t have to be nervous. I just think it’s cute that he saves up all his magic for stuff like this.” He swings his arm at the improbable structure standing in front of them. “A giant cage for the world’s tiniest, most dangerous cat.”

“Oh.” Jungkook smiles sheepishly. He doesn’t quite understand Jimin and Yoongi’s relationship, which seems to have settled into a strange parody of mutual dislike that only poorly masks a deep well of actual care and respect. Apparently now Jimin thinks he’s cute.

Yoongi is pretty cute, objectively. Jungkook is aware of that. He and Jimin are almost the same height, both smaller than Jungkook, but their personalities are pretty different. Yoongi is more quiet, showing his affection with acts of service and dry teasing, where Jimin is lively, practically incandescent, always laughing or making some outsized, dramatic gesture—

“Hey. Are we doing this? I’m sure Curry misses me.” Jimin is looking at him patiently, like he knows Jungkook was spacing out, but doesn’t really mind.

“Yeah. We’re doing this.” Jungkook is determined not to let his own messed up brain get in the way. Especially when it comes to the animals. Aside from Yoongi and now Jimin, he’s all they’ve got. 

He leads the way, showing Jimin how to enter the enclosure (a simple sliding handle, no lock, since they only need to worry about keeping Curry in— he’s not sure if he imagines the relief in Jimin’s posture when he sees that). 

Jungkook goes straight to his usual routine of checking and refilling food and water, and scooping out the sand patch that serves as Curry’s litter box. As usual, the one time he can be counted on to talk too much is when it comes to explaining something to do with the animals. 

“So you can see that it's pretty big, that’s because we wanted it to be as close to the size of an actual cat’s territory as possible, so that Curry wouldn’t feel penned in or stressed. And we made it tall enough to fit a couple full trees, with the top enclosed so birds can’t get in, because Curry loves hunting, and it would be irresponsible to the local wildlife— there are bugs and stuff in here of course, he loves those— oh, obviously the trees are gonna keep growing, but according to Yoongi-hyung tree growth is like, slow magic? So it’s easier to get them to grow how we want over time, like around and through the gaps in the top without destroying it. It’s already started working, I’m really excited to see how it looks in a couple years.” 

Jungkook forces himself to stop talking for a moment. Jimin is looking around, not in a nervous way, just curious and alert, one of his hands resting on the large trunk of the tree Curry is sleeping in. 

“So he sleeps in that cute little treehouse? Do you ever go up there with him?”

Jungkook looks up at the little wooden structure he and Yoongi had built with great difficulty, halfway up the tree. “Oh. No, we don’t really go up there unless it’s an emergency or something, because it’s so hard to— oh—”

Jimin is already climbing the tree, apparently unaware of the rope ladder hanging off to the side, just grabbing tree branches and swinging himself vigorously up. He’s moving pretty quickly. 

“Um, if we take the toys out and shake them around he’ll come down. You don’t need to go.. up…”

Jungkook trails off because it’s clear Jimin is on a mission. He considers Jimin and Curry’s last meeting for a moment, then he sighs, resituates the little bag of cat toys slung over his shoulder, and starts climbing the rope ladder.

Even using the ladder, he gets there a good thirty seconds after Jimin, and is greeted by the sight of Curry lying with his soft white belly up, rumbling purrs filling the tiny treehouse while Jimin gently scratches his chin.

The smile Jimin beams at him is the happiest Jungkook has seen him look since he’s met him. It’s a little slower, not like his usual smile that feels like a floodlight; this one is like the sun peeking through clouds as they clear after a storm, the first warmth you feel on your skin after a day of cold darkness. It makes him look younger, and Jungkook feels something in his chest he doesn’t understand, almost like an ache. He’s not sad though. There’s no reason for him to be sad right now.

“Thanks for bringing the toys. Can we play with him in here?”

“Um, yeah.” Jungkook seats himself carefully on the thick branch outside the treehouse opening. Curry is taking up all the space with his spread-out form, and there’s barely room for Jimin in the corner, so he’s not sure if it would be awkward to squeeze himself in. At the same time, he doesn’t really want to sit out here on a tree branch six meters up in the air.

Jimin solves the problem for him by shifting over slightly and patting the weathered floorboards next to him. Apparently he’s totally fine with Jungkook sitting practically on top of him. 

“Ok. I’ll just—” He clambers over the spot where Curry is laying, somehow managing not to fall on either Jimin or the cat, and wedges himself sideways between Jimin and the wall. There’s not enough space for him to sit normally, so he flops down on his side, banging his hip against the floor and leaning the entire front of his body against Jimin’s back in a long line.

He’s about to stutter out an apology when Jimin leans back and loops an arm around Jungkook, completely casually, to pull one of Curry’s toys out of the bag on Jungkook’s back. 

“Thanks.” Jimin’s face is turned, his profile so close to Jungkook’s face that he can’t really see all of him. Jimin’s usual air of mischief is back, and Jungkook feels somehow like they’ve landed in more familiar territory, even if his heart is beating a little fast.

“No problem. We really could have done this on the ground though.” 

Jimin grins, a quick little flash of mirth, and Jungkook feels him settle back against Jungkook, like his body is a comfy cushion. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Jungkook watches Curry’s toy flick and dance in Jimin’s hand as Curry skids from one end of the treehouse to the other, at one point leaping over their legs to launch himself off the wall, which makes Jimin curl up and laugh helplessly. Eventually, Jungkook gets tired of holding his arm stiffly by his side to avoid touching Jimin, and sort of slides it forward so that his hand is resting against the floor in front of Jimin’s waist, his arm crossing over Jimin’s body. Jimin doesn’t seem to notice.

Morning sinks into early midday, and Curry passes out in his bed (a pile of soft old blankets in the corner), leaving Jimin and Jungkook sprawled across the floor, legs bent to avoid hanging them out the front of the treehouse. One of Jimin’s arms is curled around Curry’s soft sleeping body, scratching idly between his shoulders while the little cat peacefully dozes, and somehow they’ve ended up lying with Jungkook’s arm tucked under Jimin’s head. The light is turning golden and it’s getting hot. Jungkook knows they should go, there’s never a shortage of things to do at the rescue— there’s the cloud rabbits that keep escaping and floating around, the skittish family of dragon birds they recently moved into the trees by the pond, and Honey, whose needs grow by the day as Jungkook’s estimate for her due date gets closer— but as usual, something about Jimin’s presence keeps him right where he is, pinned and waiting.

“This is nice. This is the nicest cage I’ve ever seen. Is it weird that I kind of want to fall asleep here?”

Jungkook looks down at Jimin where his head is pillowed on Jungkook’s arm. His vivid pink hair practically glows in the diffuse light. A few strands fall over his forehead, and one tendril is caught in his eyelashes. Jungkook notices a few freckles on the bridge of his nose. His expression is calm, but Jungkook thinks he can see more in his eyes than what he’s saying. 

Jimin keeps going. “I guess what’s weird about it is that it doesn’t feel like a cage. It kinda reminds me of home.”

Jungkook’s ears prick against his will, and he fights off the tingle of alarm he feels at the word home. It feels like a loaded moment, perhaps not just for Jungkook. Jimin has never mentioned this before. “..Home? Like with your family?”

Jimin turns his face a little to look up at Jungkook. “No. Well, sort of. We’re not related, but I consider them my family. Tae, and Hobi, and the kids. We have a lot of kids around.” His eyes crinkle up when he mentions them. “Tae and I, and most of the kids, have trouble with small dark rooms. But that’s like, every place we can afford in the city, right? So sometimes we sleep together on the roof, where at least we can see the sky.” Jimin turns back to gaze out the door at the tree branches swaying over the bright cloudless blue, and the faint pattern of chain links almost fading into the brightness, that throws a barely visible shadow across the floorboards nevertheless.

“You could sleep here. Whenever you want.” Jungkook blurts it out and then immediately feels stupid. Obviously that’s not what Jimin is saying. Jungkook never knows the right thing to say in moments like this, he should have just kept his mouth shut—

He’s pulled out of his self-deprecating panic by the feeling of Jimin’s hand, light against the side of his face, fingers tracing down his cheek to his jaw.

Jimin’s smile is small and lopsided and unmistakably fond. “You really mean that? I wouldn’t mess with Curry. I promise to play with him whenever he wants.”

“I know. I trust you. Besides, he likes you.”

Jungkook lets his eyes stray to where Curry is still snoring happily, tucked into the curve of Jimin’s arm, because the way Jimin is looking at him now is kind of making him feel a lot of things. “He really likes you a lot.”

Jimin laughs near-silently, stifling the sound in deference to Curry’s sleep. “That’s incredible, coming from you. I’ve never seen anyone as good with animals as you are.”

Jungkook curls down into himself a little, which is difficult to do with his arm still pinned under Jimin’s head. He feels suddenly exposed. 

“Yeah, I’ve just— always felt closer to animals. It’s easy to understand them, kinda. All I have to do is pay attention and give them what they need.” He continues looking down, eyes hiding somewhere around Jimin’s shoulder, heart beating a little fast. “People are harder.”

Jimin shifts bit by bit, shoulders inching minutely over the floor as he wiggles his way into Jungkook’s eyeline. There’s nowhere else for Jungkook to hide without making it obvious he’s trying to look away, so he finds himself staring straight down into Jimin’s eyes. His hair falls away from his face, splayed around his head in a shining pink halo. Gravity pulls the planes of his face out, his cheekbones and chin more striking than usual. That’s all just a vague impression though, because Jungkook can’t look away from his eyes. 

Jimin lifts his free hand between them, this time running it lightly through Jungkook’s hair, settling his grip softly at the back of Jungkook’s head. 

“You know, sometimes we don’t meet the right people until later in life. The people who really understand us. That doesn’t make you bad at people. Maybe you just weren’t with the right people for you.”

Jungkook swallows. He doesn’t understand why it’s so frightening, how Jimin just sees him. Hears what he’s trying to say even when he leaves it half-said.

“I don’t know. That’s kind, but if people don’t like me, I think it’s at least partly my fault, isn’t it?”

Jimin shrugs one shoulder and gives him an impish little smile. “Not necessarily. I don’t know. Wanna tell me about it?”

Jungkook can feel his face getting hot. He doesn’t want to treat Jimin like this, like someone who has to fix all his problems. 

“No. It’s ok. I mean— Sorry. You don’t need to reassure me. I guess I get what you mean about finding your family with people you’re not related to. I think it’s the same for me too.”

Jimin nods. He doesn’t push, doesn’t even look concerned at being rebuffed. He’s playing with Jungkook’s hair, letting it slide through his fingers. “That’s something we have in common, then.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak without spilling all his feelings out into the air between them, so he just stays there, looking down at Jimin and trying not to think about what it will be like to lose him when he eventually leaves.

✧

The sunset is blazing, lighting up the air orange gold, creating a warm honeyed bubble of timelessness that makes Jimin feel suspended and safe, untouchable in the tops of the trees.

He’s maybe spent more time than he should up in the treehouse with Curry the past few weeks, but he rationalizes it to himself with the fact that Curry is one of the few animals that has to be kept completely apart from all the others, so maybe he’d be lonely without the company. 

It might just be Jimin projecting, but he feels safe around Curry. Something about the fact that he’s immune to Curry’s magical venom makes him feel like Curry might be immune to Jimin’s, to the strange magic that lives in him, an aftereffect of what he’s endured. He likes to think Curry feels safe around him too. It’s somehow nice to know there’s at least one being that he can never hurt by accident, even if he lashes out with the worst part of himself, and even though Curry’s an animal, he hopes that he feels the same.

Curry is currently napping after his evening meal, and once twilight starts to fall, he’ll become more alert. For now, everything is still. Or as still as it gets in the middle of nature. 

Until Jimin hears something out of the ordinary.

A quick movement through the trees below, something shuffling and clanging, and occasionally grunting. In a hurry, and carrying something heavy. 

Automatically, Jimin’s body rises and tenses, going into hunting mode.

He leaves Curry behind safely sleeping, and climbs lithe and quiet out onto a branch so he can get a better vantage. 

When Jimin peers down through the leaves, poised on his branch like a big cat himself, he makes immediate eye contact with a mussed, exasperated-looking Yoongi standing below him, clutching a giant metal basin in one hand and lugging what looks like a huge portable stove behind him.

“Jimin-ah! Get your ass down here. It’s Honey’s big moment, all hands on deck.”

The reality of that bolts through Jimin like lightning, and he finds himself swinging down through the branches, the rope ladder forgotten. He’s quick, and Yoongi has barely made any progress dragging the stove through the trees by the time Jimin exits Curry’s enclosure and catches up. 

Jimin grabs the other side of the stove to lift it and they move faster, steps quick and sure through the trees in the fading light.

When they get to Honey’s shed to meet Jungkook, they fall into a blur of constant activity, a different kind of timelessness, rushing to fill the basin with water, setting up and running the stove, and hastily gathering as much food as possible in a big fishtank, so that Honey won’t have to leave her nest for a few days if she doesn’t want to. 

Jungkook is calm and commanding, and seems to know exactly what they need to do. Questions and answers flow easily between the three of them, and in the center of it all is Honey, occasionally letting out a deep rumbling bellow and a plume of smoke.

“We don’t know how much heat the babies will need, or if they’ll want to be in water right away.. I trust Honey will know what to do though, we just have to give her all the right options.”

Jungkook’s brow is furrowed, lips pursed in focus, like he’s playing out scenarios in his head and checking everything off an imaginary list. The stove is burning steadily in one corner of the shed, filling the small space with close sweltering heat. Jimin is drenched in sweat. Beside Honey’s nest is a massive basin filled with water from the pond, and moss is piled up inside Honey’s nest, where she’s been slowly building it up over the past few days.

It’s a moment of relative calm that turns out to be the eye of the storm, because a moment later Honey lets out a sudden high whine, and everything starts happening fast from there. 

Jimin and Yoongi fall into an easy rhythm, taking turns tending the stove, getting more fuel, and running back and forth from the pond with fresh, cool water to refill Honey’s basin when the water in it inevitably splashes out. Through it all, Jungkook is kneeling next to Honey, speaking soft soothing words and gently rubbing her side, and checking carefully on each of the little bodies darting in the water as they come into the world. Some of them are muddy brown like Honey, but some are a flickering fiery orange that glow faintly in the water as they move.

Unable to hold back his curiosity, Jimin leans over Jungkook’s shoulder to look, eyes caught by a halting pattern of movement different from the others. One of the newborns is drifting, dark body half-curled like a nautilus, encased in some sort of clear jelly that flickers with a purplish-blue light, glowing soft and eerie amidst the fiery colors of its siblings.

“Jungkook?” His voice is barely above a whisper. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears. “That one. Is it—”

“I don’t know.” His voice is gentle, sweet the way it gets when he talks to the animals. “Let’s wait for Honey, she might know what it needs.”

Jimin just stands there for a moment, realizing he wants to argue but isn’t sure what to say, so he falls back into their careful routine, maintaining the environment of the little shed as perfectly as possible, in case it will help. He can’t stop glancing at it, every few seconds, just to make sure— but to make sure of what, he doesn’t know. It isn’t sinking. Just drifting.

He trusts Jungkook. That’s the only thing that keeps him from doing something horrible, like breaking down or crying or screaming.

In Jimin’s mind’s eye is a memory, an image of his best friend curled on his side, hiccuping with pain, awash in the blinding blue light of magic. The color of suffering.

Jimin crouches down in the doorway next to the stove, uncomfortably close to the heat, nearly scorched on one side, the cool night air raising goosebumps on his other side, and he lets the sensations ground him. He’s dimly aware of Yoongi still moving in and out of the shed, calmly tending to everything, but he just keeps his eyes open, and breathes, and finds small things to stare at. The back of Jungkook’s neck, and the way wisps of hair fallen from his little ponytail form into small curls that stick to his skin. The slow rhythm of his hand on Honey’s side, the muscles moving in his forearm brought out by the firelight.

Gradually, Jimin’s breathing slows, growing deeper, and eventually he realizes he hasn’t blinked in a long time, and that his neck is stiff from tension. He blinks slowly, the discomfort of dry eyes and sore muscles returning, and he feels the shudder of something leaving his body and dissipating into the close hot air of the shed.

As he lets out a long deep breath, Yoongi comes and crouches beside him, face as impassive as ever, and without saying anything, offers a segment of tangerine from the one he’s currently peeling.

Jimin takes it and eats. The flavor, sharp and bright on his tongue, is like a small sensory ball of sunshine.

He looks at Yoongi, his strong careful hands separating the remaining pieces, solid and real in the soft orange light of the stove.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi makes a little movement like a shrug, and doesn’t say anything. He just hands Jimin another piece.

Together, in the quiet and uncertainty, they eat it piece by piece.

“Jimin.” Jungkook’s voice is so soft that he barely catches it, but he stands without thinking and goes to him immediately.

Sometime while Jimin was coming slowly back to himself, Honey had moved back into her nest, curled into a big half-moon shape with her babies piled up next to and on top of her, some of them walking on small unsteady limbs, bumping along like newborn kittens, some of them curled up sleeping in miniature versions of Honey’s great shape. 

Jungkook takes Jimin’s hand gently, kneeling, and with his other hand he reaches, slow and tender, to lift the fold of skin around Honey’s throat, the place where the fire-breathing embers live. 

There beneath the warmest part of her, tucked carefully against her neck and cradled by one of her big paws, is a tiny newborn. Smaller than the others, so much smaller now that it’s out of the gel-like egg it was born in, and sleeker, limbs shorter and closer to its body. Its head looks overlarge compared to the rest of it, and its body pulses faintly in blue and purple, like the glow of a tiny galaxy. It peers at them with big, brilliant blue eyes, and lets out a soft squeak.

Honey makes a soft rumbling sound and gently shifts, covering her newborn again, and Jungkook lets her, lightly withdrawing his hand and settling back onto his heels.

Without thinking, Jimin reaches for Jungkook, wrapping his arms around him from the side, needing to put his feelings somewhere, just needing someone to hold. 

Jungkook smells like woodsmoke and brine and a little like sweat, and underneath, like something faint and powder-sweet that Jimin thinks is just the smell of his skin. He closes his eyes and lets himself press close, abandoning himself to the safe circle of his touch.

Jungkook wraps his arm around Jimin and holds him close. Huddled against his chest, Jimin can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady, a patient drumbeat that sounds almost like a promise.

✧

Time slips by in spoonfuls. The days are always busy, but not mind-numbingly so, not in the way that makes you feel dizzy and sick with effort. There’s a meditative rhythm to the animals’ care, to the changing seasons, that pulls you along like a leaf in a stream. 

Jungkook’s life at the rescue reorients itself. Certain rhythms are always the same, but now there’s Jimin, like a new force of nature himself, a new star in Jungkook’s sky. 

He grows brighter as the days grow shorter. Summer into fall is Jungkook’s favorite time of year, and it grows sweeter. 

Jimin observes the animals closely, and he comes up with ideas. Jungkook comes to know the particular look of Jimin at breakfast with an idea, humming and sparkling with suppressed enthusiasm, waiting for Jungkook to be awake enough to listen. Sometimes Jungkook prolongs the wait a little more than he needs to, just so he can enjoy that anticipation for a little bit longer.

Jimin’s ideas are a little like the kinds of things you might do for children. He convinces Yoongi to help him build a silly little raft, tiny enough to go out on the pond. It can fit one person, and an unlimited number of baby salamanders. He bobs in the center of the pond, Honey’s offspring splashing and plopping in and out of the water while Honey watches from the bank, half in Jungkook’s lap, peaceful with her babies watched over by someone she trusts.

With craft skills Jungkook didn’t know he had, Jimin modifies an old backpack to add a giant mesh porthole, and carries Curry to and from his cabin, the little cat peering curiously out at the world and sniffing deeply to take everything in. Sometimes in the middle of the night, Jungkook can hear the thundering of running footsteps next door, followed by the thump of quick chasing paws. 

Curry’s never been that close to anyone, he can’t help but think. What is he going to do without you?

Weeks pass, and the season starts to turn, and Jungkook feels a sadness that he’s never felt this time of year before. Something that might even be called a longing, but a longing for something he hasn’t yet lost.

✧

Sweating and exhausted from a long day tending to the animals, Jungkook trots up the path to the hot spring, seeking the closest thing to a bath that they have at the rescue. Though he’s incredibly grateful for it, some days the tiny shower stall in his cabin isn’t enough, and he craves a full body soak that will leave him feeling like a new person after. 

Peeling off his shirt as he climbs to feel the air on his skin, he suppresses a shiver. The days are still warm, but there’s a chill after sunset now that whispers of autumn. 

In the fading orange light of the last of the day, Jungkook crests the path to the hot springs, and is struck still where he’s standing by the sight of Jimin, arms outstretched with his head back and eyes closed, the last of the sunlight gilding his brow and shining in his hair where he lounges in the smallest pool.

Jungkook can’t move. Details jump into his eyes against his will: the way Jimin’s pushed-back wet hair bares his entire face to the light; the graceful shape of his arms, muscles slightly engaged where they hold his weight above the surface of the pool; and the blurred shadow of marks that spread across his torso under the water, some that look like scars and some that Jungkook thinks are too dark to be scars.

Jungkook is trying to decide how quietly he can turn around and leave when Jimin leans forward with a soft splash and slowly opens his eyes.

His gaze is clear and intense, and Jungkook is struck by how relaxed he looks, how vulnerable, standing there unclothed in the water with nothing between them but the charge of the moment. For a heart-freezing second, Jungkook finds himself wondering if it’s too late to turn and run.

Then, a slow smile breaks over Jimin’s face, open and unforced, eyes crinkling, like he can’t help smiling at the sight of Jungkook. “Well, are you coming in?”

“Um. Should I. Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Should I go?”

Jimin looks up at him, arms stirring the water, steam rising from the surface, droplets dripping from the ends of his hair onto his shoulders. “Do you want to go?”

Jungkook swallows. He’s trying very hard not to look too deep into the water. 

“No, I— I mean. You’re already here, so.”

Jimin looks at him a moment longer, and seems to make his mind up about something, slowly turning away from Jungkook to lean his front against the same rocks he’d just been sitting against, and rests his head forward on folded arms with a soft sigh. “It’s up to you, JK. But I’m not asking you to leave.”

His bare back is turned to Jungkook, and the angle of his neck lets the light slip down, illuminating the wings of his shoulders, the muscles along his ribs, the small knobs of his spine. Along his spine are more dark shapes, rounded and elegant, not fluid like Yoongi’s tattoos but still beautiful. 

Jungkook finds that he wants to see them up close.

Taking Jimin’s turned back for a gentle acknowledgement of Jungkook’s awkwardness, and possibly an invitation of sorts, Jungkook hastily pulls off his trousers, leaving his underwear on because he can’t comprehend doing anything else right now, and slips as quickly as he can into the water. 

It envelops him, the perfect temperature, a warm embrace that prickles his skin, not quite hot enough to shock his system but enough to force some of the tension out of his body immediately. He sighs and sinks down to his chin, closing his eyes into the hot steam.

Before he can open them, he’s shocked by a sudden grip on his shoulder that pushes him sideways and dunks his entire head underwater.

He bursts the surface, yelping, grabbing out blindly through the stream of water in his eyes. His hand grasps on to something firm and slippery, twisting beneath his grip like a caught fish.

He’s finally able to blink the water away at the same moment his back thumps softly against the edge of the pool, warm rock digging into the muscles of his back.

Jimin is in front of him, panting a little, tendrils of wet hair hanging into his eyes. He looks exhilarated. One of his forearms is pressed across Jungkook’s chest, the other hand still gripping his shoulder from the unceremonious dunking. 

Jungkook’s hand is latched onto Jimin’s ribcage, wrapping around the side of his torso, fingers pressed into lean muscle, his thumb barely centimeters beneath a small brown nipple. 

“Ummm—” Jungkook’s brain to body control seems to have failed him. He should snatch his hand away, that would be the polite thing to do, but instead his hand is sliding downward, wet skin catching and slipping. He can feel the quick light movement of Jimin’s breath, in and out, the press of his gently expanding ribcage, and also something on his skin, tough uneven ridges slashed across the side of his ribs. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s hand goes slack as he realizes what he’s touching, at the same moment that Jimin sort of— melts into him, so that instead of letting go, Jungkook has to tighten his grip again, and bring his other arm up to catch Jimin around the waist so that they don’t both slide into the water. 

“Um. Hi.” Jimin is draped over his front, face turned up to his, too close to see anything but him. His expression is a mystery to Jungkook. There’s something like a challenge in the set of his eyebrows, but there’s also a softness in the way his lips are parted, almost a hopefulness in the way he looks at Jungkook so closely, like he’s trying to take in every detail.

“Hey. Don’t say sorry. I just dunked you.”

Jungkook can feel his ears getting hot. “I wasn’t going to. But—”

“No. I can feel you getting ready to apologize. It’s ok. Here, want me to show you?”

“Yes.” Jungkook answers without even knowing what he’s saying yes to. He’s starting to realize the answer is almost always yes with Jimin. Even when they’re in completely uncharted territory he can’t imagine saying no to anything Jimin will offer.

Jungkook is streaking through the sky, falling, falling, a star on a collision course. It makes him feel breathless, and brazen in a way he never has been before.

Wordlessly, Jimin tugs him over to the center of the pool, pulling Jungkook by the hand, the reverse of the day Jungkook asked him not to leave. One of his arms is still half-wrapped around Jimin, instinctually prolonging their touch, unwilling to fully separate from him unless it becomes a necessity.

As they reach the deepest part of the pool, Jimin goes sideways, letting himself drift to the surface. Instead of releasing Jungkook’s hand, he positions it on his body, brushing Jungkook’s fingertips lightly over his own ribs. Even as he angles his body along the surface of the water, spread out gracefully, his eyes never leave Jungkook’s face.

“This is from the first time.” Beneath Jungkook’s fingers is a jagged line of pink scar tissue that looks like an old incision site unevenly healed. Directly on top of it, inked into Jimin’s skin, are bold, spiky black lines, the words NEVER MIND in a striking font. 

“They took something out. I don’t know what, I guess I didn’t need it. A few years ago I had the tattoo put over it.”

Gently, Jimin takes Jungkook’s fingers, pulling lightly on his hands for leverage as he turns himself rightside up in the water.

He turns his back again, but doesn’t break eye contact, still looking over his shoulder at Jungkook so he can see his face while he speaks. In the deepening twilight his features are softened, a golden hour gentling at odds with the words coming out of his mouth.

“Last year, I got this done. It covers the one that hurt the most.” Down his back, a series of moon phases, from a crescent to a full moon and back to a sliver again, shadows his spine in delicate detail. Jungkook traces his fingers, feather-light, down Jimin’s wet skin. Beneath the beautiful moons, also clinging to Jimin’s spine, there’s a long pale scar, thick and ragged and roughly rectangular, as though from an entire swatch of skin removed. It stretches down all the way to the small of his back, distorted below the surface of the water. When Jungkook first looked he hadn’t been able to see it, distracted by the pattern of the dark moons. Jungkook can feel a hard lump forming in his throat, but he does his best to swallow it.

“Pretty,” he says in a soft, slightly shaky voice. He doesn’t trust himself to say more for the moment. He hopes his reaction isn’t hurting Jimin.

Jimin leans back against him then, his back hitting softly against Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook automatically sinks in the water until their bodies are nearly covered, his arms coming up to loop loosely around Jimin’s waist as they float together in the soothing warmth.

With their bodies tucked together, hands still lightly intertwined with Jungkook’s, Jimin continues. “I don’t know, I guess— I got sick of it. Of people looking at me and thinking, how sad. I don’t want people to look at me, my body, and just see the things that were done to me. I wanted them to see the things I chose to do on my own. To see that my life kept going.”

Jungkook’s head is a jumble of strong emotions that refuse to coalesce into words, even though he knows it’s important for him to say something back, to acknowledge Jimin’s story given so openly and without shame.

He settles on a question. When he gets lost those are always the easiest. 

“How did you choose them? The moons?”

Jimin tilts one of his shoulders a little, nudging it closer into the join of Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook likes the way his body folds around Jimin’s slightly smaller one, like they were meant to fit this way.

“My best friend is an artist. He drew them for me.” Jimin lets out a soft little snicker of a laugh, uninhibited and fond. “He said he had a dream where I was carrying the moon on my back, and that it was glowing so bright that he found me in a deep forest.”

The image enters Jungkook’s mind, irrepressibly vivid, of the bright white moon ensconced in dark trees, half-hidden, trunks tall and forbidding that slice across the brilliance as he rushes towards it.

“That’s beautiful. It suits you.” He says it without thinking, and when Jimin turns his head to drop a quick little kiss on top of Jungkook’s shoulder, he feels a tremor race down his arm and up to the ends of his hair, like his body has turned into a resonator tuned specifically to Jimin. 

Jimin leans his head back, peering at Jungkook upside down, face bright with a smile. Before Jungkook can do anything with the brightness in his arms, Jimin slips away through the water, stepping out of the pool into the blue twilight. 

Jungkook’s heart freezes in his chest, his breath stutters. He doesn’t have time to decide about closing his eyes, because a robe is already billowing around Jimin’s shoulders, enclosing his wet naked body, trees in front of the moon. 

Jungkook pushes his hands through his hair, breathing slowly, and goes to the edge of the pool. He didn’t bring a towel with him, or any change of clothes. He hasn’t been to the hot spring since late winter. He usually just walks back to his cabin in his underwear. It’s not like the animals care.

He feels awkward about it now. Even if he was just in the water, touching Jimin while practically naked. 

He sinks back down to his chin, treading water slowly, watching as Jimin uses a towel that he’d also apparently brought to shake out his hair. He’s much more prepared than Jungkook. 

“I’ve already been in for ages, but you just got here. You should relax a little.” 

He pats the rock in front of him, like he’s inviting Jungkook to come lean there and soak while he dries off. Jungkook lets out a relieved little breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Jimin continues to ruffle his wet hair with the towel unconcernedly, acting like he hadn’t just sensed Jungkook’s discomfort and skillfully found a way around it without embarrassing him. Jungkook has never met anyone so willing to do this for him unprompted, and so willing to downplay the effort. He doesn’t understand why anyone would. The insecure little voice inside him, the voice that sounds like the people who raised him, wants to point out that he doesn’t deserve it, that he should be trying harder to be normal, to not let anyone notice the ways in which he is awkward and slow and uncertain, but Jungkook ignores it, and he goes to sit in front of Jimin.

Somehow, not looking at him, it’s easier to get his thoughts in order. “I’m sorry I— I couldn’t say much, but I— thank you for trusting me. For showing me. I’m glad that you’re writing over those things with something beautiful. Sorry, I don’t know how to say the right things—”

Jimin catches him off guard by wrapping an arm loosely around his neck and pressing his face into Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook’s face goes warm in the rising steam. It feels nice. 

“You don’t need to say sorry, you know. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were sweet.” Jimin leans back a little, no longer touching Jungkook, but he can still sense his presence at the edge of the water. “You always think you’re doing worse than you really are. Why is that?”

“Oh. Um.” Jungkook sits with the question, his heart racing a little. He knows Jimin isn’t upset with him, that he’s never been upset with him for saying the wrong thing. Jimin is safe. He takes a slow breath. “Well, I guess I disappointed my family a lot, growing up. My parents. Everyone else in my family is, like— well-spoken, and charming, and— like, my father, he actually writes speeches for hire. For politicians and stuff. They would take me to these fancy parties in a little suit to pose for photos and I’d be so bored and confused. And they’d find me in somebody’s bedroom petting a cat, or— once, I found my way into the menagerie and let all the birds out of their cages, and they got into the party and, um.”

Jimin is making a surprising sound behind him, not quite laughter, almost like a whine of pain. He turns in the water to see Jimin crouching with his hand over his face. “Sorry— Sorry, I know it must have been stressful, but that’s so cute, I can picture it so clearly— ignore me though, keep telling me.”

Jungkook feels some of that anxious sick feeling he gets when talks about that time slowly leaking out of him at the sight of Jimin’s laughter. It makes him feel lighter, more able to give himself distance, to not get trapped in the bad memories.

“Yeah. As you can imagine, it was a disaster for them. After that, it was kind of a battle. They’d do anything they could to change me, to force me to be more like them. I tried to make it work, to be what they wanted, but— I don’t know, not that hard, really. I knew it was useless from the beginning. I couldn’t care about the right things, the things that were important to them. And it was the same for them. They didn’t want me to waste my life on something they saw as useless.”

Jimin’s hand starts to move softly in Jungkook’s hair, playing with it, sliding through the damp curls. 

“I’m sorry it was so hard for you.”

Jungkook shakes his head quickly. “No, I mean— in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t so bad. I just— I’m just— I don’t know. More sensitive, or different, or something. I used to wonder if I was somehow secretly adopted, or some kind of changeling. I just didn’t fit.”

He feels Jimin’s fingers scratch lightly against the nape of his neck, soft and comforting.

“When I was 13, I heard about this ranch where they trained and bred animals— horses, dogs, peacocks, whatever animal happened to be popular with the rich people my dad wrote speeches for. So I ran away.”

Jungkook feels Jimin’s hand pause in his hair for a moment, before he catches himself and keeps stroking lightly. He doesn’t speak, just hums softly to show he’s listening, so Jungkook keeps going.

“Yeah. So I was an animal handler there for, like— three years? Long enough to know that most people, even the ones who work with animals, don’t necessarily care about them more than their own profit. I could convince people I was an adult by then, and I moved around a lot, just— looking for somewhere I could help, I guess. There was this hatchery, where we got tons and tons of weird orders from mages, and— yeah. I looked into it, and I couldn’t believe people were just letting this happen, so I— um. I still knew some people from the ranch, their clients were always requesting me because I was so good with the animals— but Jin, he did me a favor. I knew he had a family estate out here, with tons of land they didn’t use. There were animals who needed help, and I needed a place for them. So I made a place.”

Jimin’s hand flexes in his hair, tightens for a moment, before releasing again. “Jungkook. You should know, it’s not just anyone who could have done what you did. It’s your family’s loss that they didn’t see that. That they didn’t appreciate you.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows. He turns and catches Jimin’s hand, the second he starts to pull it away. He holds it between both of his hands, still damp. It’s smaller than Jungkook’s hands, fingers shorter and slimmer next to his own.

“Thanks for saying that, but— I mean. I’m just stubborn. And there’s only one thing I know how to do, so that’s what I did.”

Jimin’s smile is smaller than usual, close-lipped and coy, like he’s recognized a challenge. “Ok. It takes more than just one skill to keep this place running. Can’t you just let me tell you how amazing you are?” 

Jungkook feels too hot. Maybe he should get out of the water after all. He lays his head down on the rock, eyes fixed to their hands, so that he doesn’t have to look at Jimin. “No.”

Jimin laughs, his caught-by-surprise laugh, all high and breathless. Jungkook hears him shifting, and then he’s lying down too, his face on the other side of their hands, cheek pillowed against the crook of his arm. 

“Fine. It’s ok to be humble, I just don’t want you using someone else’s words to talk down to yourself. I hope you can see your strength for what it is.”

Jungkook lets his eyelids flutter. He could almost consider falling asleep right here, warm and drifting on the current of Jimin’s words.

“And your kindness, and patience, and persistence, and your care for small things.”

Jungkook really does squeeze his eyes closed now. “Small things?” He hopes his question is enough of a deflection. His heart is beating too fast, and at the same time it feels like he’s soaring on a golden wind, borne up by the unstoppable wave, beautiful and undeserved, of Jimin’s regard.

“Yeah. Not in a derogatory way. You notice small things. Things no one else will notice, but that’s what makes you so good at taking care of them. The animals, and the people around you too. You observe. You care about the small things.”

Jungkook sighs and opens his eyes. His mother used to tell him that he had no vision, that he was fixated on small things moving in the dirt instead of the grand movement of the heavens. That he would miss harnessing the power and fury of the ocean because he was too busy counting grains of sand. She had a million proverbs like that, wise well-chosen words that Jungkook could never argue against.

Somehow, when Jimin says almost the same thing about him, it sounds like a love poem.

Maybe his family was right about Jungkook, but also, maybe it isn’t such a bad thing that they were.

Because Jimin sees the same things in him and he likes him.

Jungkook blinks, slow and dreamy, at Jimin’s face. The sun is fully set now, the light hovering in that strange time just before sun gives way to moon. 

Jimin looks beautiful by moonlight, in a different way than when he’s in the sun. The bold brash colors of him, all golden and fire, give way to something soft and shining, a mystery painted in silver and monochrome, just a little more like a dream. 

Jungkook reaches out with a careful hand, using the tip of one finger to trace the ends of Jimin’s hair, shining wet and silver-white in the moonlight. 

“What is it? You look—” Jimin swallows back his words, and just looks at him, expression attentive and sweet, apparently waiting for Jungkook to say something instead of telling him how he looks.

Another small thing in a myriad of small things that Jimin always does to make Jungkook feel safe, feel like it’s ok that he’s slow and sensitive and can’t communicate with other people the way everyone expects him to. 

“It’s just— You’re the one who’s special, you know. Everything you’ve done— helping people, helping kids who are going through what you went through— I haven’t done anything like that. I wish— I think I should. I don’t know. I can’t just stay out here forever, not touching the rest of the world. Not doing anything that makes a difference.” 

Jimin smiles fondly at him, soft in the moonlight, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You are making a difference here. You’re giving all the animals you’ve rescued a better life, a life they never would have had without you. It makes a difference to them. But before you argue with me, I hear what you’re saying. I do. There’s a difference between directly helping, and also working to change hearts and minds, to try to take down the system that victimized them in the first place. It’s hard to do that when you’re hiding from the rest of the world. But what you’re doing is just as needed, and just as important.”  

Jungkook feels a sudden rush of surety, glowing in his face like heat. For the first time in a long time, he realizes he wants to do something new, to a new purpose. He wants to do more. 

He sits up, feeling like fire is running through his veins. “But you’re doing both. You’re directly helping, and you’re changing the system.” 

Jimin sits up too, his smile pulled into a mischievous quirk of lips. “Well, maybe you can too. It’s never too late.”

Jungkook looks down at his hands where they rest on the rock, long fingers worn with the scratches and calluses of his work. He sometimes thinks of them as the most capable part of him— the part that reaches out with trust and tenderness even to the most wounded and volatile of animals, and the part of him that breaks open cages, that steals lives back from the brink of destruction and carries them here to a new home.

“I think I want to try.” His voice comes out stronger and surer than he expected. But he knows when he says it that it’s true.

Somehow, Jimin makes it all feel possible. 

He always thought he was a person who had to run away from reality in order to survive, that he was someone who couldn’t make a difference with words, thoughts, ideas. His parents taught him he wasn’t capable of that. For so long, he believed them; even long after he left them behind he continued to live according to their judgment of him, without even questioning it.

But he doesn’t have to let them control him anymore. He doesn’t have to hold back out of fear of failure, out of fear of disappointing them. He never cared what they thought of him anyway. He can do whatever he wants.

“Oh.” He looks up at Jimin in a kind of awe, sitting on the bank and shining under the stars like a wild god. “I can do it. I wanna do it.” 

Overflowing with energy, Jungkook hauls himself out of the water, and remembers too late that he’s only wearing his underpants. “Oh— shit, sorry—”

Jimin throws his head back and laughs, high and delighted, and falls against Jungkook’s leg like he can’t control himself. “Jungkook— please, stop saying sorry— I mean it, don’t ever say sorry to me again—”

Watching Jimin laugh uncontrollably, Jungkook is overtaken by a different feeling, an upwelling of something too quick and bright to name, something that compels him to dive down and seize Jimin around the waist and tackle him to the ground like an overgrown puppy. 

And now Jimin is yelping about how Jungkook is soaking wet in between gasps of laughter, and they’re rolling on the ground fighting for who will get to keep the towel Jimin brought, and Jungkook could win easily but he lets Jimin win because the look of him sitting on top of Jungkook, robe slipping off one shoulder, glowing in satisfaction while pinning Jungkook’s arms over his head, feels too rare and wonderful to give up just for the chance to dry off on the way back to the cabins.

Jimin gives him the towel anyway, easily, like he was always planning to do it, and they walk back together. 

The last of the late season fireflies circle them in the dusk, just a few slow blue ones, like lazy stars in orbit. 

Jungkook looks at Jimin to see his reaction, because he’s always looking at Jimin. It’s been barely two months of knowing him but he can’t imagine his life without him anymore, and even stranger, he can’t imagine being satisfied with going back to the person he used to be before he met Jimin.

Jimin has given Jungkook so much just by being here, just by being himself, but Jimin himself has lost things in coming here. Jungkook knows that. He sees it in the endless letters Jimin writes, and in the way he goes above and beyond to care for the animals, like he needs someplace to put all the love that’s used to flowing out of him.

Jimin’s used to being surrounded by people. His best friend, who he brings up often, and the children, who he’s more guarded about but who Jungkook knows must miss him endlessly. Not for the first time, Jungkook thinks about the unfairness of it, the selfishness of his joy in keeping Jimin here when there’s so much out there for him to do, so many other people who need him. 

Jungkook looks at Jimin, walking beside him in the growing dusk, body relaxed and loose from the hot spring, turning his head to watch the fireflies. He wonders what it would be like to be someone Jimin could depend on, to be able to help him with the things that really matter to him.

“You know, if you ever want to bring anyone here— to visit, or— I know it’s not much, but if you miss them. They could come stay.” Jungkook can feel his neck and ears getting hot, even in the chill night air, but he makes himself say it. 

He can tell from the way Jimin doesn’t respond right away that the suggestion has startled him, so he tries to explain. “You must miss them. The kids, and your best friend— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t, it’s none of my business.”

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice is soft and low, and he bumps himself against Jungkook’s side as they walk, like a reminder that he’s still next to him. “What did I say? No more sorries from you.”

He keeps walking for a moment, eyes lowered, and Jungkook can tell that he’s thinking. 

“You’re right. I do miss them a lot. And it’s a kind offer. The thing is, I haven’t really told them the whole truth about this place. It’s a little hard to explain it in words without sounding— I don’t know— like I’m a completely different person. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t experienced it.”

“Oh.” Jungkook feels sick to his stomach imagining how Jimin’s loved ones might feel, thinking he was trapped in mandatory service in a strange place surrounded by magic, without being able to see it for themselves. “I see. I mean, I get why it’s hard to explain. I— I have trouble explaining pretty much everything in words. Something always goes wrong between my brain and my mouth. But— yeah. Some things are hard to talk about in a letter.”

Jimin looks at him with that bemused smile he gets sometimes, like he’s about to argue with Jungkook in the most gentle way possible.

“Why are you so sure it's a brain to mouth problem? Not everything is about the brain, right? Maybe your heart knows exactly what to say, but your brain is the one getting in the way."

Jungkook’s face feels so hot it must be glowing in the dark. Jimin really said your heart, like that’s nothing at all, like it isn’t beating out of his chest, like it isn’t his biggest weakness.

For a moment, Jungkook lets himself be flooded by all the things his family used to say to him: Too sensitive. Too soft-hearted. You need to toughen up. You’ll never get anywhere if you can’t make people respect you.  

He just looks at Jimin’s expectant face, and he lets the hot rush of invisible words fade away. Jimin has never insulted his soft heart. He talks about it like it’s a good thing. Jimin respects him. And Jungkook didn’t have to force him to, or assert his dominance, or any of that crap. He didn’t have to do anything, really, to earn Jimin’s kindness. 

“That’s— I didn’t think of it that way. But maybe I’ll try to. It’s been years, but I still keep forgetting that I don’t have to live by their rules anymore.”

He doesn’t have to explain who he means when he says their rules, because Jimin knows him now. He sees Jungkook, and he doesn’t seem to regret it. 

“Good. Other people’s rules are the hardest thing to get past sometimes.” A wry little smile flits across his face, there and gone. “I have that problem too. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Jungkook feels a matching smile break across his own face. “No, I believe it.”

Jimin’s laugh bursts out, quick and bright in the darkness. They’re almost at the cabins now, and Jungkook can feel the little bubble around them threatening to burst, the real world of the rest of the rescue slowly coming back to hold them. 

Jimin comes to the front of his cabin and stops, half-turned to Jungkook, eyes lowered, seeming uncharacteristically uncertain about something. Jungkook waits, his own heart thundering in his ears.

“I do want that. For my friends to come here, and the kids especially. I think I didn’t realize how much. This place has actually been— really good for me.”

Jimin raises his eyes finally, and Jungkook feels breathless at the intensity he sees there. No one has ever looked at him like that, with their whole heart in their eyes, demanding to be seen. It’s something undeniable, the force of Jimin’s sincerity, and Jungkook is never prepared for it when it comes full force.

Before he can think of anything to say, Jimin keeps going, and Jungkook listens. It seems like he needs to let it out.

“I don’t know if they’d think— if it would feel like I’m betraying them. I questioned that myself, to be honest, when I first got here. I thought I hated anything to do with magic unequivocally. That I’d root it out and destroy it wherever I found it. No nuance, no questions, just black and white.”

Jimin is looking down at his hands, rubbing with one thumb against a faded scar that Jungkook can’t see right now, but that he knows runs along the center of Jimin’s palm. 

“It’s not like my mind has changed, I still feel clear about what’s right and wrong, and what I can and can’t accept, but— this place is just different than what I would have thought. It feels so hard to explain. All I could hope to do is show them what it’s really like here. How safe it makes me feel.”

Jungkook still doesn’t know what to say, his mind reeling with the work of processing everything Jimin is saying, so he reaches out to touch instead. He catches the tips of Jimin’s fingers as he’s lowering his arm, and slides his own fingers over the slight ridge of the scar on Jimin’s palm. Jungkook’s hand is still warm from the springs, but Jimin’s skin is a little cold. At first, it feels like he might let his hand fall out of Jungkook’s grip, but then he holds back, firm, like he means it.

Jimin still has that wide-open look, like he’s dredged the depths of himself for an honest answer, but he also looks tired, the skin around his eyes pinched. In the faint blue glow of the few remaining fireflies, he looks a little unreal, like he might disappear if Jungkook holds on to him too hard. 

“It’s the first time I've lied to my soulmate. That’s— Tae and I call each other that. We can read each other’s minds, practically. I’ve never been away from him for this long, but I think he must know something’s up.”

Jimin lets out a long breath, looking up into the sky where the first stars are appearing, maybe thinking of the people he loves in the city who know him better than anyone. The people he truly belongs with, who he’s lying to, who he might be in danger of losing because of Jungkook. 

Jungkook feels something sink and settle in himself, something heavy that drops through him like a stone sinking in water. It feels a little like resignation, and even a little like relief. It’s not disappointment, not yet, because he had hardly let himself hope in the first place. 

He knows now that he has to let Jimin go.

And that doesn’t have to change anything, really. Jungkook still wants to try more than he had before, to be less afraid to fight for what he cares about. Jimin inspired that in him, and that more than anything makes him want to hold on to it, to keep the spark of it stoked and alive, to let it grow into something bright and self-sustaining.

It has to be self-sustaining. After all, Jimin isn’t going to be here much longer. 

He has a life to return to, a life Jungkook isn’t a part of. He can’t let Jimin lose that, the cause and the people he cares about most, just for— whatever this is.

A feeling, warm and quick, whenever Jimin smiles at him. Whenever he even looks at him. That feeling that makes Jungkook want to become better than he is, that makes him think he’d do anything to help Jimin and to make him happy.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to call it, but that’s all it is. A feeling, or a fixation, that he’ll have to let pass. Yoongi calls it a crush, but it feels so much bigger than that, so all-consuming. But that’s probably just Jungkook feeling things too much, the way he always does.

It doesn’t matter what he feels, because soon he’ll have to let go of Jimin, let him go back to the place and the people and the work that really matter to him. 

Jungkook can’t even be upset about it. That would be too unfair. There might be a selfish, clinging part of him that wants to hold onto Jimin, that looks at him in the moonlight and sees the answer to a question Jungkook didn’t even know he was asking. 

It doesn’t matter. He won’t forget Jimin, but he can’t hold on to him any longer. He has to let him go. 

✧

Dearest Vante,

You have no idea how much I miss you. Even when we’re cruelly separated like this, I think of you every day. Whenever I see or learn something new, I wonder how you would see it, and what you might say if you were here with me. 

Are the kids still doing well?  I loved the part in your last letter written by Soobin. Please tell him to write me his own letter and I’ll write back to him. And tell Yeonjunie to keep looking out for the other kids for me, I know they’ll all look up to him soon.

Today is the first rainy day since I came here, the start of the late summer rains. It reminds me that the time since I last saw you is greater than the time that’s left before I’ll see you again. It’s strange not to share our day to day lives as we always have, when I feel like your heart is still right there next to mine, inseparable. 

I want you to hear me out. I have an idea for how we can see each other a little sooner than planned.

First I need to tell you the truth.

I said we’re inseparable, and I believe that, but that doesn’t mean I’m unaware of the distance that’s come between us. I know it’s not just because I’m away. I take responsibility for it, because I’ve been holding back something big, and the longer I went without saying anything the harder it got to tell you.

Before I start, I want to be honest about how much I’ve come to trust the people here. I know it’s only been a couple months, but I feel so safe here. So free. No one here judges me, or treats me like a freak, or forces me to spill my guts about anything. It feels like I can just breathe. Like I can just be. 

The animals have surprised me too. They all have their own personalities, and they demand love in a way that’s so endearing and so different from humans. It never even occurs to them to question whether they deserve to be treated well, or whether it’s ok for them to ask for attention and affection. It isn’t in their nature to question their own worthiness. If they want love they just ask for it. It makes me want to spoil them endlessly. 

All of this is kind of a long way to say: please don’t judge what I’m about to tell you too harshly, because there are a lot of good things here.

There are only two other people here at the rescue. Jungkook, the owner, and Yoongi, the grounds manager. Yoongi used to be an apprentice mage. He left them years ago, so he never learned much magic, but he devotes all of it to helping the animals and protecting the rescue from poachers. He never practiced any bio-magic. Finding out that the other mages were doing that to animals was the reason he quit in the first place.

I know what you’re thinking. Trust me, I went through it too. I felt crazy when I found out. You probably want to know why I haven’t burned this place down, and left any trace of magic ground into the dirt, for the sake of our safety and the safety of the kids we protect.

I thought about doing it. I never thought there could be a version of me who wouldn’t. 

The truth is. Well, the truth is kind of tangled up. Sorry. I’m not trying to be vague. It’s just hard to talk about.

I think I told you this once, right after we first escaped, that I didn’t think we’d continue to live. That I was just waiting to drop dead any second, for my body to suddenly fail. 

I’ve slowly started to catch a glimpse of a new way to see it. Of my body and the thing that lives in it, whether that’s a little bit of unpredictable magic or something else. 

I guess I’ve started to think that maybe it doesn’t have to be something I live in spite of. Maybe it’s just something else that lives. Just a part of me, actually me and not this enemy inside me. Something I don’t have to treat like a ticking time bomb.

I don’t know. You’re probably wondering why the hell I’m even thinking about all this. It’s just, the animals here are like us too. Because of magic, their bodies changed. Cats spit venom, birds blow bubbles, salamanders breathe fire and glow underwater like strange little embers. You get the idea.

And the way Jungkook takes care of them, just accepts them— I have to admit that I couldn’t understand it at first. I was waiting for something to break, to see him get angry or something. But he doesn’t. He just takes them as they are, and he doesn’t expect them to be anything else. He’s not waiting for them to change one day and become easier to manage. And if they do change and become even harder to manage, he just rolls with it.

I’m afraid of changing again. I’ve always been afraid of that. It’s scary, to feel like your body is acting against your will, doing stuff you didn’t ask it to. It’s different to see it happening to the animals, to see what it’s like to just care for them with no expectations for what they should be. I keep coming back to that, to what it would look like to practice that with people. To give ourselves the same grace.

All this time, I always saw myself as afflicted, healing from wounds that perpetually reopen, carrying scars the way I carry rage, as a burden and a symbol of suffering. I accepted that, but I also dreaded its manifestation more than anything. I thought eventually it would end me.

It might sound too easy to say it doesn’t have to be as heavy as that. Maybe it is too easy. Maybe it’s something that’s only possible in a place like this, safe and away from the rest of the world, where no one else can see it, where no one can get hurt by it. 

Maybe I want it to be something it can’t be. Not just a wound that won’t heal but a living part of us. Proof that we’re still alive. Something that adapts with us as we live on, that changes with us, that could become an ally rather than a dead thing we drag along with us by chains that lead back into the past.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired of dragging it. And if I am, what if that means I’m losing the only thing that gives me purpose?

Maybe that’s scary too, to think there’s something we took from that time that isn’t a curse. Part of me wants to believe I should hate this part of myself forever, that if I lose that rage then I lose myself completely. I don’t know who I’d be without it. I don’t know if I’d be able to do what I need to do, to protect us, to force the world to change so that it doesn’t keep happening.

I think the more I write, the more tangled up I get. I’m trying but I’ve never been good with words the way you are. Maybe if you come here, you could explain my own thoughts to me. You’ve always been the best at that, and the only person I trust to do it.

I’m not kidding about you coming here, by the way. Jungkook invited you, all of you, and I know he means it. I want you to get the chance to see what it’s like here, to see if it makes you feel as safe and as free as it makes me. I want the kids to have that chance too.

I know that probably seems like a wild thing for me to be asking, or offering. I want to say more about Yoongi’s magic, because I know you’ll have questions. I’m sure it’s hard to understand how I could feel so safe here, how I could think it would be ok to bring the kids we protect here, with any magic being practiced here. 

The magic that Yoongi practices is almost like some kind of nature magic. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s nothing like what the mages in the city do. I don’t know if they know about it or if they just don’t bother to practice it the way he does. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t bother, because it’s all about balance, and pacing, and slow growth of power, like the way a plant or a tree grows. City mages get ahead quickly and violently, burning up other people’s lives in order to fill their own pockets. They’d never bother with anything that requires them to be patient and careful.

Everything Yoongi does is slow, and disciplined, and seems to take years. It’s a way of life as much as a means to power. Power isn’t even its true object. I never knew that something like this could be called magic, or that there was any other kind of magic than the violence that other mages do. This is something else. I’m not sure yet if it’s an answer, or just something sacred, some older kind of magic that ended up twisted by people who only cared about power and not about life. 

I’m sorry if you feel disappointed in me. I just couldn’t keep this secret from you anymore. You’ve always been my other half, the part of me without which nothing makes sense. I hope you will always be that. I hope you can come here soon and help me make sense of the world again, side by side, the way we’re meant to.

Until then, I am as always,

Your soulmate.

✧

The day starts like any other at the rescue, summery and sweet with the scent of late-season flowers— except the wayward magical residue living in Jimin’s body chooses today to start acting up again, for the first time in years. 

For years, ever since he gave himself the mission of taking down the mages in earnest, it’s been settled— a part of him still, stirring deep down, but dormant. Something he could keep in the back of his mind and no longer grapple with every waking second. 

He tries not to think too much about those days, when it was quick and alive, capricious as mercury in his blood, and explosive as a volcano that didn’t know when it would blow.

He doesn’t like to think about the person he was, back then.

Back then, everything was so intense, so outsized and painful, every nerve in his body and corner of his heart a scream of suffering, that he figured it had to come out somehow. It was messy and ugly but it had to come out, and he hoped it stayed out, that it never welled up in him again.

He never considered that his body, as strange and changeable as it is, might produce more of it.

He wouldn’t even have noticed it right away if Jungkook didn’t unwittingly catch the first sign. 

Jimin is crossing the clearing at the heart of the rescue after breakfast, his thoughts already drifting to the food prep he’s about to do for the cloud rabbits (basically a very complicated salad with strictly specific proportions, which the rabbits will reject if it isn’t just right, and which no one else seems able to master besides Jungkook), running his hand through his hair thoughtlessly, when he sees the way Jungkook is stopped at the edge of the pond staring at him.

At first he thinks it might be fun just to tease him a little, they’re both busy right now and don’t have much time for anything else, and Jungkook’s eyes are so big and round and sparkly, but then— “Um. Jimin? Is your hair changing color?”

Jimin freezes, feeling his smile die halfway. The day is warm, but he feels a chill shoot down his spine. Fuck. Not this, not now. “What did you say?”

“Um. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you panic, it’s just. It looks like it’s getting lighter—”

Frantically racking his brain for the closest way to check on what’s happening, Jimin concludes the rescue’s only mirror is too far away right now, and drops to his knees, peering into the surface of the pond like it’s an oracle.

“I can’t see anything.” He buries his hands in his hair and pulls up from the roots, trying to hold it as far from his head as possible, leaning down to the pond and straining his eyes upward. As far as he can tell, it’s still pink. The ends of it, at least, look the same to him.

“Jimin.” Jungkook is crouched down next to him, and his voice is soft like the way he talks to an animal when he’s trying to calm one down. “Can I describe it to you?”

Jimin forces himself to take a deep breath. “Yeah. Please, that would be really helpful.”

“Ok.” Jungkook does a tiny little throat clear, which Jimin can’t help but find painfully cute, even under the circumstances. “Ok, so it’s the same color at the ends, but the roots are lighter. This part.” Jungkook touches the top of Jimin’s head and traces a finger down a strand of hair, so lightly Jimin can barely feel it. “This part is like— a paler pink, with a hint of gold? Kind of a soft peach. You look like a sunset. It’s pretty.”

Jungkook swallows in a very visible way, his throat moving with it. His face is a little bit pink. “Is that— does that mean something?”

Jimin lets out a shaky breath, the beginnings of relief starting to filter in. A lighter pink isn’t that different, not as different as it could be. So maybe this isn’t like the last time, when his body went completely haywire. “It might. I don’t know.” 

He sits back on his haunches and tries to let his heart rate slow down. “Y’know, it used to be dark blue. But that was a long time ago. If the change is less drastic this time, I probably don’t have to worry as much. I hope.” 

A brief memory seizes him at the words, strange magic pouring from his body like blood, except it was fire, filling a room against his will—

Jimin stares up at the sky, letting the clear bright blue burn his vision, and continues to breathe.

When he looks back down, a little furrow has formed between Jungkook’s brows, and he looks so determined, lips pinched into a cute little pout. “Can I— is there anything I can do to help?”

Before Jimin can say anything in response, they’re interrupted by a weird sound that reminds Jimin of Curry when he growls low in his chest, except this is big and loud like thunder, echoing all through the rescue. Jungkook immediately stands up. 

“That’s Yoongi’s intruder alert.”

Jimin looks up at him in disbelief. “He made an intruder alert that sounds like an angry cat?”

“Come on.” Jungkook reaches down to grab Jimin’s hand and lifts him effortlessly to his feet with one arm, apparently unaware that this causes Jimin’s brain to completely shut down for half a second. He could tell Jungkook was pretty strong, but still.

They move quickly toward the front of the rescue, the side that runs along the road, where Jimin entered when he first arrived. He wishes he had a weapon on him. He hasn’t been in a fight in a while. Training by yourself can only do so much.

Then he hears the sound of a familiar voice somewhere near the front gate— as always, the voice is a little too loud and way too cheerful for the given situation, and it suddenly feels like Jimin’s body is filling up with sunshine. He starts running.

As he comes flying around the last stand of overgrown flower bushes before the path to the front gate, he’s greeted with the sight of Yoongi, looking pissed and holding a shovel, facing down one of Jimin’s favorite people on earth. With the other man’s wavy brown hair, sunkissed skin, and disarmingly bright smile, he looks deceptively harmless, and he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the welcome he’s getting.

“—pretty simple question? He’s small, loud, bright pink, incredibly cute, impossible to miss— if he’s been here two months, there’s no way he hasn’t destroyed at least a few of your chairs by now—” 

“HOBI-HYUNG!” Jimin flings himself past Yoongi, who looks completely stunned, and flies directly into Hoseok’s arms. 

He squeezes his arms around him in a deep, satisfying hug, savoring the little oof that bursts out of him when Jimin collides with his chest. “What the hell? I didn’t think you’d show up with no word. Is everyone ok? Is Tae here?”

Hoseok answers by seizing Jimin’s shoulders and holding him in place, while staring into his face with a comical look of exaggerated scrutiny that would be funny if Jimin hadn’t been missing him terribly for the past two months. As it is, he doesn’t have the patience for it right now.

Jimin chooses to express this by headbutting him, not hard enough to do any lasting damage, just to force a reaction. Hoseok responds by shrieking and attempting to swing Jimin over his shoulder, which is one of his oldest tricks— Jimin hasn’t fallen for it since he was a teenager— and then they’re fighting in earnest, Jimin ducking and dodging, feeling the familiar exhilaration take over his body, the rush of sweet adrenaline when he faces off against one of the few people who can be a match for him.

It only lasts for a few more seconds before someone steps solidly in front of him, coming between him and Hoseok with determination, catching one of Hoseok’s windmilling arms mid-swing. 

“Oh. Jungkook?” Jimin’s forward momentum is hard to kill on short notice, so he lets himself drape over Jungkook’s back, chin resting on his shoulder. “Sorry. We’re just having fun. This is Hobi.”  

Jimin puts on a dramatic pout for Hoseok’s benefit. “He still hasn’t explained what he’s doing here. Or where everyone else is.”

Hoseok’s smile is sharp and diamond-bright. “This your bodyguard, Jimin-ah? Since when do I need a reason to visit my favorite troublemaker, huh? Did you or did you not send an effusive love letter to your soulmate inviting us all to this farm? So, here I am. Are you going to show me around? Or is big boy here going to do it? Or maybe the grumpy little cat with the shovel.”

Yoongi makes an unimpressed sound from where he’s leaning on his shovel. Jimin can see Jungkook’s face turning pink in his peripheral vision, and in fact can feel the heat coming off his skin from where his own face rests against the side of Jungkook’s neck.

Jimin tucks an arm carefully around Jungkook’s waist from the back, reaching up to rub gently over his chest, hoping that this is enough to communicate that it’s ok for him to let Jimin take the lead.

“Hyung. Can you stop being rude to Jungkook and Yoongi, please? And this is a rescue, not a farm.” Jimin is still reeling from the way Jungkook thought he saw Jimin being attacked and just— stepped in front of him, with absolutely no sense of self-preservation. He’s never prepared for how sweet and selfless he can be.

“And you still haven’t told me why no one else is here. Did you really leave Tae all alone with the kids? The house won’t be standing. They’ll have burned down half the district by now.”

Hoseok swings his arm in an expansive gesture, expertly sliding free of Jungkook’s persistent grip while making it look completely natural. “Well, now that you mention it! It’s a good thing we have the brightest little constable in Sharefang on our side. He’s been helping us out here and there.” Oh, he’s really turning on the sunshine charm. His smile is practically twinkling as he sweeps his gaze over all of them. Jimin doesn’t miss how quickly Yoongi looks away, like he doesn’t want to be burnt by witnessing Hoseok's brightness. 

“Namjoon is giving Tae a hand with the kids while I execute this dashing rescue operation. Or reconnaissance. I don’t know. Are these people holding you hostage? I genuinely can’t tell. Is this a blink-once blink-twice type of situation?”

Jungkook makes one of his indignant noises that Jimin knows means he’s angry or upset but hasn’t figured out yet how to verbalize it. Moving slowly, Jimin steps to the side and comes next to him, leaning lightly against his side, arm still looped around his waist.

“Hyung. Shut up for a minute, ok? I’ll show you around, for fuck’s sake. Can you take it down a notch?”

Hoseok cocks his head and looks at him and Jungkook. Jimin can see him taking everything in, and he knows he’s going to hear about it later.

Somehow, this isn’t what Jimin pictured when he invited his loved ones here. Hoseok is really treating this like— like a job, casing the place and working the crowd. Like he automatically expects Jungkook and Yoongi to be his enemies. Jimin knows how cautious they all have to be, he’s lived it himself for as long as he can remember, but for some reason it’s bothering him a little.

“Just— c’mon. We all have work to do. You can come with me while I do mine. Is that ok?”

He turns fully to face Jungkook, effectively shutting everyone else out. He wants Jungkook to understand that he’s really asking him, that it’s his decision if he lets Hoseok in, not just Jimin’s.

To his surprise, Jungkook doesn’t really look angry. His eyes are wide and deep, and his expression is almost somber, like he’s observing closely and thinking carefully about what he’s seeing. He’s looking at Jimin with such attention that for a moment Jimin feels a flash of panic, as though Jungkook is about to call him on some bullshit— what, exactly, he can’t say in the moment, but he suddenly feels the stretched-thin persona of himself on display in the gentle face of Jungkook’s unassuming, ever-honest regard.

But he doesn’t say anything like that. He just looks into Jimin’s eyes and answers him. “Yeah. That’s ok, to show him around. Shout if you need me, ok?” 

He’s so sweet. Not for the first time, Jimin thinks, I don’t deserve this.

At least Yoongi isn’t arguing. He looks simultaneously furious and embarrassed, which is kind of funny, but Jimin will have to make fun of him later.

Jimin turns to drag Hoseok away by the hand, voice bright and cheery. “Let’s go. This is real nature, you know, hyung. Hope you don’t mind the bugs!” 

He has to stifle his own evil laughter when Hoseok gives a full body shudder and clings to Jimin’s back like he’s trying to hide behind him from insects. Jimin knows how much he hates bugs.

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into his routine, even with Hoseok here. Once Jimin is in the controlled chaos of the cloud rabbits’ enclosure, their serene and ever-shifting energy fluttering and settling around him while he counts lettuce leaves and sorts clover, he returns to the composure he briefly lost when Hoseok’s arrival threw everything off-kilter.

Hoseok, for his part, is circling while Jimin works, tapping his hands against things, occasionally giving a little jump when one of the rabbits uses him as a springboard to change direction or launch itself through the air. 

It feels comfortable. It feels like them. Hoseok isn’t like Jimin and Taehyung, but he experienced the same unspeakable pain from the other side— he lost his little brother to White Swallow’s dungeon years ago, when they were both children, and he never forgot. He was the one who took Jimin and Tae in after they escaped, and helped them when they needed it most. They’ve all been together ever since, they’ve had each other’s backs every step of the way in the fight against the mages.

Jimin did miss him, like he would miss a part of himself, but he’s realizing he hasn’t exactly been starved for a kind of easy closeness, because of how quickly he was able to fall into something like this with Jungkook.

He pushes those thoughts down and gets back to the moment. “Is Namjoon-hyung really helping out? That sounds fucking cute. Is he good with kids?”

Hoseok laughs lightly. “Oh, you have no idea. I thought he’d be like a little cop with them but he lets them walk all over him. It’s adorable.”

Jimin can’t suppress a smile at that. He knows from experience that out of all of them, Hoseok is the one most likely to be a cop with the kids, or maybe more of a general, to be accurate. No one can bring a group of unruly teenagers in line faster. Jimin doesn’t say that to him though.

“I’m glad you’re all getting along. I thought he had a good heart when I met him. He was just looking for somewhere to put it.”

“When he arrested you, Jimin-ah? You said, let me turn this cop’s life around, give him a real cause to fight for, and he couldn’t resist, huh? That’s one of your talents. Just like with that cute little muscle boy out there.”  

Jimin freezes up for a second. Thankfully, Hoseok’s back is turned, stroking the ears of a floating bunny who seems to have taken a liking to him, so he can’t see the effect his words have, but Jimin has a feeling he must know anyway.

“Ugh. Shut up, hyung. Don’t talk about him like that.” 

“Not correcting me though, are you?” Hoseok spins quickly to face him, eyes sharp like he knows he struck a nerve. The expression is somehow made more unsettling by the unsuspecting rabbit perched on his shoulder that’s nibbling gently at his collar.

Jimin scoffs. “No. Because such an insinuation is beneath me. You don’t know Jungkook at all, hyung. If you did you’d feel so embarrassed right now.”

Jimin is expecting the volley of words to come back to him immediately, the way it usually does with Hoseok, but instead he pauses for a beat, and something in his expression shifts. He angles his face down to stare cross-eyed at the bunny slowly eating his shirt, like he’s trying to check his impression of the situation with the little creature. Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Did you have news for me or what, hyung? Tae can never say enough in his letters. It can’t all be as quiet as he makes it sound.”

“I do. But I need to tell you something else first.” He grabs a piece of lettuce from the tray on the table and offers it to the bunny on his shoulder, watching as it starts to nibble. Jimin keeps sorting vegetables and tries to pretend like he isn’t waiting impatiently.

Hoseok’s eyes are still on the happily munching rabbit when he speaks. “You know, I’ve never seen you like this before, Jimin-ah. I practically didn’t recognize you.”

Jimin stares at him, hands frozen over the lettuce. He resists the instinct to run his hand through his hair, to try to hide it, or to pull it out by the roots. “What’s that supposed to mean? 

Hoseok’s voice is light and unconcerned when he answers, eyes still focused on feeding the rabbit, his casual air belying the weight of his words. “I’ve never seen you so happy and comfortable with anyone who isn’t Taehyung before. It surprised me. You’ve only been here two months, but it seems like you’ve really found a home here.”

The words shoot through him like an arrow, sharp and straight to the heart. Jimin grips the edge of the table, letting the flare of shame burn through him. 

“That’s what you think of me? That I— what— ran off and abandoned you all? That I wasn’t gonna come back?”

Hoseok's head snaps up. There’s nothing accusing in his demeanor, he looks genuinely stricken, but he’s always been good at hiding what he’s really feeling. Better than Jimin, even.

“No, Jimin, that’s not what I meant. No one thinks you abandoned us. I’m not saying you don’t love our little family, or that you wouldn’t fight to the death for us. I know you would.” 

He pauses to play with the rabbit’s ears and makes a cute little chrr chrr sound at it. “That kind of devotion isn’t the same thing as being happy, that’s all.”

Jimin makes a loud huffing sound, enough of a comic overreaction to show that he isn’t that angry, and goes back to sorting vegetables. “Didn’t I say in my letter, hyung? If the rest of you came out here for a few weeks you’d be feeling pretty happy too. It’s safe here, and— I don’t know. I thought I’d be bored, but it feels good to take care of the animals. I think the kids would like it.”

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle up with an irrepressible heart-shaped grin. “Well. I can’t argue that your letter wasn’t well-timed.” 

Jimin stares flatly at him. “Are you finally gonna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

Hoseok leans back languidly against the wall of the hutch, folding his arms and still grinning, savoring his dramatic pause. “Blue Dragon was brought before tribunal. Special charges.”

Jimin snaps back to attention, fire shooting through his veins. He can’t believe it. “Namjoon-hyung pulled it off? He came through for us?”

“He’s been spending a lot of time around the house, you know, helping out with the kids. He might have picked up a hint or two about how personal this is for us down in the River District, and who exactly would be the best folks to stand on a tribunal to represent us.” Hoseok looks incredibly smug, which Jimin thinks is very deserved right now. “If you hadn’t lit a fire in him when he arrested you, Jimin-ah, this never would have happened. The tribunal would have been a sham filled with bought-off politicians, and nothing would be changing.”

Hoseok’s voice is light and filled with laughter, but Jimin feels like the ground is shifting beneath him, like the sun is finally coming out after years of darkness. This unreal wish, this thing he’s fought endlessly for with no acknowledgment or acceptance from the rest of the world, is finally coming into the light before his very eyes. 

“The tribunal— really voted? Against him?”

Hoseok takes Jimin’s hands where they’ve fallen still over a pile of carrots, and swings their linked hands back and forth between them in a slow rhythm. 

“That’s right. Blue Dragon is fucked. All his operations are frozen. His only choice is the black market, no one legitimate can deal with him now, but he has to go through the River for that and his money’s no good there anymore. No money, no black market ingredients or kidnapped kids. No magic.”

Jimin feels something in him picking up speed, a familiar rush that’s almost painful, burning through his body like it needs to be released or it will consume him.

“This is— what’s our next step? We can’t sit back and congratulate ourselves, hyung. This is the perfect moment, we need to strike now, while the other mages are running scared, before they step up their own operations to fill the power vacuum.” Jimin pauses, the pieces connecting in his mind’s eye to an inevitable conclusion. “We need to go for White Swallow. Before he builds up defenses, before he comes for us first. He’s gotta be next.”

When Jimin finally returns to his surroundings, the intensity of his inner vision dissipating, Hoseok is looking at him with that razor-sharp gaze typically reserved for scrutinizing training plans and attack formations. Jimin knows what it means to be on the other end of that look. He knows Hoseok is not about to agree with him.

“I see why you think that. I do. We’re not giving up, you know, Jimin-ah. And we’re not out of time either. I think this thing with Namjoon is good, it’s really good. We’re able to strategize with eyes and ears on the inside. We’re able to coordinate. It was a brilliant idea for you to bring him in.”

“Hyung. Why does it sound like you’re saying no? You really expect me to just sit quietly when we have an opportunity like this?”

Hoseok’s brow furrows. He braces his arms on Jimin’s shoulders as though he’s trying to physically hold him in place, like he thinks he might run right out of the rabbit enclosure if he doesn’t. “Jimin-ah. You agreed to this, right? Doing your sentence, laying low. That goes for all of us. We’re laying low until the law actually does its work for once and Blue Dragon is out of commission. There’s less than a month left on your sentence, and then we talk big operations again.”

Jimin shakes his head in frustration. He can’t believe Hoseok is really giving him the you can’t change the world in a day speech right now. “Hyung. Don’t you see? The mages kept each other in check before. They were distracted, all caught up thinking they were each other’s greatest threat. But now White Swallow’s at the top. Alone. And he knows we’re coming. We have to take him down.”

Hoseok’s hands are solid on his shoulders still, grounding him. “Jimin. I get it. I promise I do. Your mind still works the way it works. Maybe it feels like you’re stuck here and you just wanna get moving again, but what do we always say about taking down White Swallow?” 

Jimin glares down at Hoseok's shoulder bunny (now blinking and swaying sleepily), unable to meet his hyung’s gaze. He hates that Hoseok is pulling this on him, making him repeat their oldest promise, so well-worn it feels like a nursery rhyme at this point. “We always say that we wait until we’re ready. All of us, or none of us. We do it together.” 

“Ok, good. I’m glad you remember. Is Taehyung here to decide if he’s ready?”

Jimin looks up, still feeling the fire, and seizes his last chance. “I’ll go back. We’ll go back now, tonight. Or tomorrow. And we’ll decide together. I won’t force him. I just wanna tell him my plan and see what he says.”

Hoseok is still giving him that look, like he’s weighing every potential flaw in Jimin’s idea and has already formed several contingencies for when it inevitably fails.

Then he startles Jimin by lifting his hands and clapping them back down on his shoulders. “Ok! If this is still what you want to do tomorrow, then we’ll go. But I suspect that it’s one thing to say this to me now, and another to say this to your little lover boy out there. So don’t leave without saying goodbye to him, yeah?”

Jimin shoves him lightly away, pretending not to notice the melodramatic way he clutches his chest and pouts, like Jimin just broke his heart or something. “Hyung. Please shut up about it. Jungkook and Yoongi would understand, anyway. They won’t turn me in.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He says it bright and breezy, back to his usual brisk energy. Jimin hates that he never backs down. He can’t get truly angry at someone who’s so fucking cheerful all the time.

“I already told you it’s not like that. Jungkook has his own life. And he’s been so kind to me already. He doesn’t need to be that involved with someone as fucked up as me, trust me.”

Hoseok, who is still circling the enclosure like an overly energetic chipmunk, takes the opportunity to catch Jimin in an aggressive backhug that feels like his arms are being crushed to his body.

“Ok, that’s actually illegal. No talking shit about yourself like that in my presence, Jimin-ah.” 

 “Get OFF, I can’t believe I forgot how fuckin’ annoying you are—”

Hoseok’s laughter fills the room, high and bright, a sound Jimin missed more than he ever would have believed. 

Jimin completes the feeding with Hoseok still draped happily over his back, humming and rubbing the side of his face against Jimin’s hair, and Jimin pretends to be more annoyed than he actually is. 

When Jimin finally drags them both out of the enclosure and into the midday sun, heading through the trees to visit Curry, Hoseok lets him go to walk alongside him, and deals another devastating piece of unwanted wisdom like it’s nothing, while his eyes follow a shimmering purple dragonfly.

“Put it this way. You already defend him like he’s one of your own. I know you, Jimin-ah, and you don’t do that with just anyone. You’re not taking what you can get from him, the way we do with most people. We all do it, we have children to protect. But whether you realize it or not, you treat him like he’s already yours. If you’re gonna leave, just remember that, ok?”

“He’s not mine.” Jimin’s argument sounds quiet and weak, even to himself. He doesn’t offer any other explanation, and Hoseok doesn’t ask.

The rest of the day passes bright and easy, with a long visit to Curry and a trip through the grove where the dragon birds roost. Their gem bright scales flash and wink, little pops of color in the afternoon light, as bright as the sound of Hoseok’s laughter, and Jimin feels flooded with a strange type of nostalgia, a longing for something that feels right but that hasn’t fully come to pass yet.

He knows his family could thrive here. They couldn’t really live here all the time, he knows, not with so much work to do in the city, but Jimin just knows somehow that spending time here would be good for them. 

Maybe someday.

His reverie is interrupted by the echo of another impossibly loud cat-growl— the intruder alert, sounding for the second time that day.

Hoseok turns a wide-eyed look on him. “Jimin. What the fuck? Is there a giant cat dragon here? I’m not prepared for that. You told me the giant salamander was the biggest thing.”

“No. No, hyung, that means someone’s here who shouldn’t be.” Already jogging out of the trees toward the entrance, Jimin whips back around to look at him. “Are you sure no one followed you?”

Hoseok’s face pulls into a tight little frown, and Jimin, gut sinking, can already tell what the answer will be. “Well, I was looking out, you know, but the road was fucking crowded. Too many people going to a festival. I didn’t like it, but it was good cover, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Come on, we need to—” 

Without further explanation, Jimin turns and starts running full tilt toward the front of the rescue.

✧

“Hyung, it’s not like that. I told you, I asked for it. It was my idea in the first place.” 

Yoongi turns away from the delicate work of repairing holes in the giant net around the butterfly enclosure to give Jungkook a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Great. And you didn’t think to tell me that more absurdly handsome criminals were at risk of just showing up unannounced?”

“Jimin didn’t even know he was coming, hyung. You saw how surprised he was. I think it’s a good thing. We can get to know Hobi at our own pace, and he can go back and maybe bring some of the kids to visit. I think it would be great to have them here.” 

Jungkook is aware of how ridiculous he must sound to Yoongi, speaking so casually about strangers showing up at the rescue like it isn’t the number one thing they try to avoid. But Jungkook trusts Jimin, and that includes trusting the people he loves. Whether or not his heart also happens to be fluttering with a soft irrepressible hope that Jimin’s family might like it here enough to come back, maybe even enough to stay, is completely irrelevant. 

But Yoongi just closes his eyes for a long moment, a familiar sight from his meditation techniques. “I don’t even wanna think about how many new cabins I’m gonna have to build. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Yoongi.”

Jungkook tries not to let a beaming smile take over his face at those words, but Yoongi opens his eyes a moment too soon and catches him. “Don’t think you’re gonna get out of helping me, even if there are a bunch of kids running around the place.” His voice sounds flat and expressionless, but there’s a fond look around his eyes that Jungkook recognizes from the way he looks at the dragon birds when he wants to spoil them.

“Of course I’ll help you, hyung.” Jungkook does his best to keep the happy tremble out of his voice, but again, he doesn’t quite succeed.

Yoongi responds with one of his shy little smiles that shows his gums, then goes determinedly back to the unraveled section of net he’s mending, like he’s embarrassed by his own kindness. Jungkook really loves him.

“If you want to help me, Kook-ah, then please remind me which butterflies are the healing touch ones and which are the electric shock ones, I still can’t tell them apart.”

“Oh.” Jungkook shifts focus to the butterflies winging around inside the enclosure. “Well the healing ones are a little more of a transparent blue? Like you can just barely see shadows through their wings. And the forewing is slightly more curved, the electric ones have that little notch between the forewing and the hindwing.”

“But they’re the exact same color.”

“I think the healing ones are just a bit lighter, hyung, because of the transparent—”

Before Jungkook can finish his sentence, the intruder alert revs up loudly across the rescue, sounding for the second time that day. 

Jungkook and Yoongi both jump up on instinct and start heading quickly toward the front of the rescue. “Don’t tell me there are more uninvited visitors,” Yoongi mutters. “Haven’t we had enough for one day?”

Jungkook feels a strange mix of anxiousness and quivery anticipation. If the morning brought them Jimin’s Hobi-hyung, could another friend of Jimin’s have been close behind?

But as they pass the garden sheds, Jungkook can immediately tell that something is wrong. 

The first sign is the deeply gashed and trampled grass, with a few clumps of torn-up earth, as though something big and heavy was dragged carelessly past.

The other sign is the sound of frantic splashing coming from the pond.

Jungkook races between the sheds, ignoring the way Yoongi growls “Kook, get behind me.” Yoongi may have magic on his side, but the animals are Jungkook’s responsibility.

He emerges onto a scene from his worst nightmares. 

Two complete strangers are beside the pond, and between them is a massive cage, wire mesh, heavy track marks behind it in the mud where it was dragged. One of the strangers is big and hulking, bigger than Jungkook, and clutching a long staff with a cruel-looking hook on the end, which he’s currently pointing at a growling, fiery-eyed Honey.

Steam is rising from her snout and her body is coiled tight, tail thrashing angrily in the shallow water at the bank. On the other side of the man with the weapon, a smaller man with a heavy beard is flailing in the shallows, attempting to herd some of Honey’s babies into the big cage. 

Without looking back at Yoongi, Jungkook goes straight for the smaller man, launching himself onto his back and locking his arm around the stranger’s neck in a chokehold. 

The man lets out a strangled yell and starts jerking around, trying to swing Jungkook off, but he just squeezes tighter, trying to cut off his air. When one of the man’s hands comes scrabbling and tearing at his face, Jungkook bites it, tasting the sharp tang of blood.

The man snatches his hand away, cursing and wheezing, breathing getting shallow as he starts clawing more desperately at Jungkook’s arm locked around his throat. Next to them, Jungkook can see flashes of what looks like a small tornado made entirely of water, that’s completely encasing the man with the weapon, whirling around him at lightning speed and surrounding him completely in a thick wall of water.

Jungkook knows Yoongi can’t hold that for too long, and when he can’t anymore he’ll be too depleted to do much else. Jungkook needs to knock out the man he’s choking fast— 

Jungkook’s breath is jarred out of his body when the man he’s clinging to abruptly throws himself backwards in a last effort to escape, slamming Jungkook to the ground beneath his body weight. He tries to keep his arm tight, but the force of the fall momentarily loosens his grip, and the stranger manages to writhe free. 

At the same moment, Jungkook sees the man trapped in the water cyclone suddenly burst through the wall, spluttering and soaking wet, weapon still clutched in his hand. Jungkook feels a surge of panic. Just a few paces away, Yoongi is crouched on the ground, defenseless, breathing hard from the huge expenditure of magic. 

“HYUNG!” Jungkook rolls to his feet and lunges toward them, but the man he was choking tackles his legs and they both go down.

“Fuck— get— OFF—” Jungkook kicks out desperately, trying not to panic. 

Several things happen at once. 

Yoongi’s eyes fly open at Jungkook’s scream, and he rises shakily to his feet, arm trembling, sparks blurring the air in front of him as he makes a last-ditch effort to summon a magic shield, a weapon, anything. 

As the water from the cyclone sloshes back into the pond, no longer standing between Honey and the intruders, she finally lets loose a stream of fire directly at the man attacking Jungkook. 

And at the same time, Jimin comes shooting out of the trees behind Yoongi, and without missing a beat, he launches into a flying kick that hits the man with the weapon square in the chest.

Still collapsed on the ground, barely aware of the man behind him screaming and rolling in an attempt to put out the fire on his clothes from Honey’s attack, Jungkook watches in awe as Jimin confidently takes down someone twice his size.

Reeling back from the first kick, the stranger recovers and swipes at Jimin with the weapon, which Jimin gracefully ducks, springing up suddenly close to the man’s side and swiftly grabbing and twisting his wrist, knocking the weapon to the ground with a clatter while hooking a leg behind the man’s knee and viciously flipping him to the ground with a strike to the chin.

By the time Jungkook has gathered himself enough to get to his feet, Hobi is behind him, kneeling on the  singed man’s back and holding his arms, and Jimin is standing over the fallen intruder with his foot pressed down on the man’s throat, a fierce expression on his face like a vengeful god. 

The tableau is interrupted by an unfamiliar, wavering, frightened voice, which Jungkook realizes is coming from the man trapped beneath Hobi. 

“Oh shit, you’re him— no way, no fucking way—”

Jimin lifts his head and makes eye contact with the man pinned on the ground behind Jungkook, and a strange searing feeling shoots past Jungkook, as though the force of Jimin’s gaze is something heated and physical, something he doesn’t want to be on the other end of. 

The man’s words devolve into something that sounds a lot like crying and the word please over and over.

A bright sharp smile flashes across Jimin’s face, quick and devastating like lightning. “Oh, do you know us? Hyung, we’re famous!”

Hobi laughs at that, high and wild, and Jimin delivers a sharp kick to the man beneath him that leaves him lying motionless as Jimin steps closer to Jungkook.

He stops beside Jungkook, standing there like a pillar of protection, the intensity rolling off of him feeling like an electric charge around his body. Jungkook almost feels sorry for the man crying on the ground who tried to kidnap Honey’s babies. Almost.

He’s babbling, tears running down his face into his beard. “Please— I swear, I’ll do anything, I swear on my life, please—”

Jimin kneels fluidly in front of the helpless man, seizing his hair and yanking his head up harshly. His voice cuts smoothly through the man’s frightened stream of words. “This place is under the protection of the Kitty Gang. Tell your friends. And don’t come back unless you have a death wish.”

Finally stricken silent, the man nods frantically, face still wet with tears, wide eyes locked onto Jimin like he can’t look away. Jungkook understands the feeling.

“Good. Now go drag that other piece of shit out of here and get lost. Hobi-hyung, please escort them out.”

Jungkook watches in awe as the man shuffles meekly over to his unconscious accomplice, struggling to pull the man’s limp body over his own shoulder while Hobi stands over him, smiling angelically like this is the best day of his life. “Come on, chop chop! If you take too long Jimin might change his mind.” 

This apparently is all the motivation the man needs, because he’s abruptly staggering forward, half-carrying, half-dragging the other man’s weight, making little whimpering noises as he lurches back toward the front of the rescue.

“Great! We love someone who can follow directions. Unless you come back, then we’ll kill you!” Hobi swings around to give them all a cheerful, exaggerated salute. “Ok, Jimin-ah, I’ve got it from here.”

Jungkook watches, speechless, as the three of them disappear into the trees toward the front of the rescue. He locks eyes with Yoongi, whose mouth is actually hanging open, face incredulous, looking like he’s been metaphorically knocked flat. That’s exactly how Jungkook feels.

Jungkook is shaken back into the present by a deep huffing sound from Honey. She’s back with her babies, nudging them gently with her giant head while they climb all over her. Jungkook does a quick visual inventory. They’re all there, and none of them seem to be injured. He lets out a slow breath, well aware that the strange quivery excitement chasing through his body has a different source now other than panic.

“Jungkook?” Jimin’s voice is velvet-soft, his most soothing tone, already so different from the fearsome person he was a moment ago. 

When Jungkook looks at him, he looks the way he always does. His hair is a mess, windswept and sticking up, and his lips are slightly parted, his cute, crooked front tooth just visible. He’s still himself, open, approachable, kind. But Jungkook thinks he can see this other version of him now too, or the possibility of it, in that unassailable confidence he always carries with him, and in the calm way he always says exactly what he means. 

Jungkook thinks he’s never admired anyone the way he admires Jimin. That’s true, but there’s also something more intense about the feeling, something he still hasn’t figured out how to explain even to himself.

“Kook? Are you hurt? There’s blood on your face.” With a tender touch, Jimin reaches up and holds the side of his face lightly, next to Jungkook’s mouth.

Jungkook touches the thick smear of blood beside his lips, curious. “Oh. No, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

Jimin’s face brightens with a little smirk, eyes crinkling up happily, and Jungkook feels his heart lift. This is still every bit the Jimin he knows. He feels so happy all of a sudden to have been given so many parts of Jimin, so lucky simply to have witnessed him in his element, even here at the rescue, so far from his own world.

He doesn’t say any of that, because he’s feeling overwhelmed by the force of his own emotions, not to mention everything that just happened, so he just says “Thank you,” and immediately pulls Jimin into a fierce hug.

Jimin hugs him back, arms around his shoulders, one hand cupped gently against the back of his head. It feels good. Jungkook nestles his face closer into Jimin’s neck, closing his eyes. He feels warm all over, and safe, so safe.

“No one has ever fought for us like that before.” Jungkook mumbles it into Jimin’s hair so it feels a little less embarrassing to say out loud.

“I’m right here.” Jungkook opens his eyes. Yoongi is limping past, looking exhausted and grouchy. “But don’t worry, I’m leaving. Whatever you’re about to do, please do it indoors, and not in the open where everyone can see.”

In his arms, Jungkook feels Jimin’s body shake with silent laughter. “We love you too, hyung. Get some rest, ok?”

Something in Jungkook quivers at that word. Love. Jimin said it so casually, naming the thing Jungkook has been carefully shying away from in his own mind for weeks. Sure, Jungkook has said that to Yoongi before in a different context, but Jimin said we. As in he loves Yoongi too. And if he loves Yoongi, what if that means— 

Jungkook feels like his insides are twisting and fluttering, like he’s a cage for butterflies filled up with strange magic. There are many different kinds of love, he knows that. Just because Jimin has grown fond of him and the animals, and is willing to throw the weight of his gang around to protect them, doesn’t mean he wants to bring his family to the rescue and stay here with Jungkook and take care of animals with him and hold his hand. He knows all that.

Jungkook sometimes hates this part of himself, the part that can’t help conjuring wild sentimental fantasies the second it’s even slightly encouraged, based on so little. Jimin has a life out there, he reminds himself for the millionth time. A life that doesn’t include him.

Reluctantly, Jungkook lets go of Jimin, slowly leaning back out of his space. Or at least, he means to step out of his space, but Jimin keeps his arms looped together behind Jungkook’s waist, so he can’t go that far.

He looks down at Jimin, his shining eyes, the way his expression seems to be brimming over with some inexpressible energy. Jungkook has never seen him so powerful, so beautiful, so himself. 

He’s casting about for something normal to say that isn’t the overwrought, hopelessly in love thoughts bouncing around his head, when Jimin cuts through it.

“I kind of thought you were going to kiss me. With the way you’re looking at me right now and all. But stop me if that’s not what you’re thinking, ok?”

Jungkook’s breath shakes a little, stars bursting apart like fireworks in his brain. Jimin could tell? Of course he could tell. Jimin is always so good at reading him, always notices the details, and no matter how he tries, Jungkook has never been that good at hiding.

Before he’s able to process how Jimin might feel about knowing that Jungkook wants to kiss him, he’s distracted by the slow, slow feather-light touch of Jimin’s fingers trailing up his back, along the sensitive skin of his neck, and up to his face, where he lightly cups the sides of Jungkook’s jaw, holding him like something delicate.

“Let me wipe the blood off first.” There’s a sweet little smirk on Jimin’s face, that glimmer of mischief that Jungkook loves in him so much, as he slides one thumb decisively along the skin next to Jungkook’s mouth. He feels the press of Jimin’s touch, firm enough to leave a tingle against his skin. His skin feels hot against the gentle cage of Jimin’s hands on either side of his face.

“You’re running out of time to stop me. Just letting you know.”

Jungkook hears the words running out of time and some switch flips in his brain, or maybe he temporarily loses all coherent thought while his heart hotwires a connection directly to his mouth, because the next thing he says, grabbing onto Jimin’s back and gazing down into his beautiful face, is, “Jimin, I’m not gonna stop you. I love you.”

Jimin looks stunned, but not in the way Jungkook expected. He looks awestruck, like the way he looked the first time he saw the stars at the rescue and how visible they are outside of the city. Amazed, and emotional, and maybe a little overwhelmed.

The moment stretches, and Jungkook can’t help his instincts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He doesn’t get to finish apologizing, because Jimin shuts him up by kissing him.

Jungkook loses himself almost immediately. Jimin’s closeness, the way he can feel him all around him, his hands, his face, his lips, the sounds of their lips touching, and the little sounds Jimin makes against him—

At some point, a few minutes or a century later, they break apart, foreheads resting together, breath puffing softly against each other’s mouths. Jimin whispers, breathless, “I told you you’re not allowed to say sorry to me anymore. Especially not for this. Never for this.”

Jungkook moves his hands gently up and down Jimin’s back, memorizing the feel of him with his fingertips, mapping this new wondrous closeness between them, unsure if it will disappear like a good dream.

“Jimin—”

Before he can say anything more, they’re interrupted by a soft splash and a deep rumbling sigh, as Honey takes it upon herself to herd her young back to the nest for the evening. 

Jimin giggles softly where he’s still leaning his face against Jungkook’s, body shaking in his grasp. Jungkook feels so tender, like his heart is one giant bruise, and every characteristic thing Jimin does presses on that tenderness and floods him all over again with love.

“Come with me?” Jimin’s hands have moved down to his arms, squeezing gently to guide him forward. He turns, hand sliding down Jungkook’s forearm, and Jungkook follows. Their hands fit together, Jimin’s fingers clasping between his. Jungkook holds on.

Jimin stops halfway around the pond and turns to look up at Jungkook seriously. “Animals first? Or more kissing first?”

It’s a testament to how much they’re on the same wavelength right now that Jungkook immediately understands what he’s asking. 

“Animals first? The routine will be comforting for them, after all that.”

Jimin smiles at him, slow and mischievous like a shared secret, the setting sun painting him in rose and gold. They fall into the rhythm of the animals’ nightly feeding, moving in time with each other in shared familiarity. Jimin keeps finding little ways to touch Jungkook, trailing his hand over an arm or bumping their shoulders together or tucking a strand of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear while they work.

When Jungkook goes back to his cabin after, Jimin comes with him. 

They fall into each other’s arms like they’ve been longing for it, like it’s not something spur of the moment but something that’s been building between them slow and sure, pulling them closer and closer until it became unavoidable, until it was staring them right in the face.

Jungkook doesn’t get overwhelmed because Jimin treats him tenderly, checking in with him, giving him time, slowly suffusing him with the warmth of his love, and laughing with him at the inevitable awkwardness of two bodies learning each other for the first time. 

Whenever Jungkook had intimate encounters in the past, there was always an edge of stress and overwhelm, a feeling that the other person was pushing past his boundaries too quickly, and sometimes even a sense that his body wasn’t his but something distant and unreal, like an object that was being touched and manipulated without his control.

He doesn’t feel any of that with Jimin.

With Jimin he feels safe, warm and glowing like the setting sun, protected in Jimin’s arms, in his own bed with Jimin holding him close.

Even when he imagined the best possible scenario, what it would be like if Jimin made the decision to stay, he still never imagined this. It feels like an impossible gift, that someone as bright and kind and thoughtful and loving who actually understands Jungkook, who sees him and doesn’t want to turn away, would come into his life like this. 

He holds Jimin like something precious, a shooting star in the shape of a human, someone whose very presence scatters light and luck in his wake. Someone he doesn’t ever want to let go of, someone who he wishes will keep coming back into his life, his heart, his bed, over and over and over.

As they lie together in the soft afterglow of love, Jungkook tucked against Jimin’s chest, making himself small in Jimin’s arms and gently tracing his fingers over Jimin’s hands where they hold him close, Jimin’s voice comes, soft in the sleepy stillness.

“We didn’t really get to talk before. About what happened.” Jimin’s fingertips press lightly back against his, braced over Jungkook’s chest in the warm yellow light of the lantern by the bed. “Is there anything you want to know?”

Jungkook slides his thumb slowly over Jimin’s smaller one, and thinks about the unsuspected strength in Jimin’s small hands, and the way he’s carved a persona for himself out of that strength, a world away from how gentle he is here with Jungkook. Despite that, he can’t think of that as some other version of Jimin that’s less real than this one, or even as that different from the Jimin he knows. Jimin’s protectiveness is just as fierce as his love. 

He thinks of Honey, always quiet and slow until the moment her babies are threatened, when she turns herself into a weapon to protect the ones she loves. He thinks about Yoongi, who really isn’t that different either.

He lifts his head and leans back a little so he can see Jimin’s face. Jimin, who’s been untangling and retangling their fingers while Jungkook thinks, relaxed, not pressuring or rushing him at all.

“Not really. I want to know anything you want to tell me because I want to know everything about you that you’re willing to share. I guess my only question really is— Kitty Gang? What’s that about?”

Jimin’s face is completely blank at first, eyes a little big like Jungkook said something unexpected, but then he breaks into a small lopsided smile, a glimmer of laughter shining through the quiet moment. He shrugs his other shoulder, the one Jungkook isn’t currently resting on. “I don’t know. We had to go by something. I’ve always liked cats.”

For one still moment, they just stare at each other, Jungkook’s head leaned back to hold eye contact, tendrils of wavy hair slowly falling into his eyes. Jimin’s eyes are sparkling, the corner of his mouth quirked a little, the way it does when he’s holding back laughter.

He isn’t sure who cracks first, but within seconds they’re both laughing, smiles getting so big they can barely see each other, unable to stop as the tension drains out of them. Jungkook curls into Jimin’s neck and Jimin grabs onto his hip like he needs something to hang onto while he’s helpless with laughter, and it feels just like them, as safe as it always has, but with the promise of something deeper, something that might last.

Jungkook doesn’t remember when their laughter fades into an easy sleepiness, or the quiet words they murmur to each other as the lantern dims. He eventually slips into sleep happily, not knowing the difference between the quiet joy of being safe in Jimin’s arms and the peaceful sleep of a wishful dream, because for the first time they feel so much the same.

✧

Jimin wakes to a sound like a bird crying far away, and he opens his eyes to see a feather, drifting slowly above him in the cool predawn light.

It’s so black it looks blue, gleaming rich like midnight as it falls. Still stirring awake, Jimin wonders sleepily where it came from.

He watches it until it lands, craning his neck a little since he’s still pinned beneath a sleeping Jungkook.

The feather lands atop his right hand, which is coated in thick, sticky dark blood.

His body jerks like an electric shock. A sick feeling spreads in his chest, frantic, as he holds tight with the arm wrapped around Jungkook and gives him a brisk little shake.

“Mmmm? Jimin? ‘S early.” 

Jungkook’s voice is sleepy and sweet, a faint lisp in it. Jimin’s heart feels like it’s squeezing. His body is rushing with a strange mix of adrenaline and protectiveness, like a weapon homing for a target, uncertain whether he actually has something to fight.

He sits up carefully, sliding out from under Jungkook’s weight. Jungkook’s hand clings to Jimin’s arm, and he makes a little sound, burrowing in deep against Jimin’s side in the absence of his warm body as a pillow. Half sitting up, Jimin can see him better now, rosy cheeks, hair messy, his bare upper body curled into Jimn’s side. He’s all soft shades of grey and blue in the faint light before sunrise. He looks peaceful.

Unhurt. 

Heart still pounding, Jimin forces himself to look again at the blood clinging to his right hand, the way it’s streaking messily up his arm, the marks it’s left on the sheet. Stuck to his skin here and there are more midnight black feathers, and more feathers are scattered dark over the white sheets of the bed like a grotesque parody of rose petals. 

Breath still shaky, he turns his hand and arm, trying to assess. The blood doesn’t seem to have a source. There’s no wound on him that he can see. He doesn’t feel any pain. 

Slowly, trying to disturb Jungkook as little as possible, Jimin slides carefully toward the edge of the bed. The air is cold before dawn, and he can’t help a shiver as he stands up.

He doesn’t light any candles in the bathroom, and the shivers haven’t quite left his body. In the absence of a mirror, he has to settle for turning his limbs and peering everywhere he can. He doesn’t find anything else out of the ordinary.

Opening the water faucet to a bare trickle, he tilts the basin and lets the water run soundlessly along the edge, filling it slowly and quietly as the light grows in the sky, creeping toward sunrise. 

When he leans over the filled basin to wash his arm, early sunlight breaking through the window, and locks eyes with his own reflection in the water, it hits him.

His hair color has changed. The vivid, fiery shade he lived with for so long is gone, faded to something lighter and softer, a peachy-pink that’s almost pale next to the warm shade of his skin. He stares frozen at his own wide-eyed reflection. That can only mean one thing. 

He looks at the dark dried blood coating his hand and arm, the dark feathers clotted in it. A sign of carnage. An omen if he’s ever seen one, obvious enough even for somebody who’s never really believed in them.

“Jimin?”

Jimin looks up, already feeling that squeeze around his heart again. 

Jungkook is standing in the doorway, blanket tucked around his shoulders, fists balled up in the fabric. He still looks sleepy, but also halfway to concern, the telltale furrow between his eyebrows giving it away.

“Are you hurt?” 

Jimin follows Jungkook’s gaze to his own bloodied arm, and before he can let himself hesitate any longer, hastily splashes water over it and starts to scrub the mess away.

“No. I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He forces the words out, and for a long moment, there’s no sound other than the splash of the water as Jimin hurriedly rubs away the evidence of his own brokenness, the things he can never bury no matter how much he tries to pretend that he could become someone else, someone capable of being in love. 

Jungkook makes a soft inquiring noise, not a word, just a gentle sound. He comes into the room, but not all the way over to Jimin, keeping a small distance as though Jimin is a wild animal he’s trying not to spook. 

“It’s ok. I’d usually be up soon anyway. Can I see?”

Jimin stiffens, and immediately hates his own reaction. He knows he’s already hurting Jungkook. He’s starting to see that hurting him was inevitable, as soon as he started to let his defenses down, as soon as he let them get close. 

Compulsively, he wipes his arm down one more time with his other hand. He hasn’t managed to completely clear the blood away, and it still trails in faint swirls across the skin of his arm and sits dark in the lines of his knuckles.

Jungkook steps a little closer, and extends one hand from the bundle of blankets, giving Jimin ample time to move away from the touch. His stomach churns with something like guilt, but more bitter, mixed with grief.

He lets Jungkook touch him.

His fingers are as certain and gentle as they always are, pressing lightly up and down his hand and forearm, turning it carefully, checking methodically for injuries. Jimin tries to still the shiver in his body, that shaking that’s been there since he woke up and that he realizes might not be only from the cold after all. 

Jungkook runs the tip of one finger oh so lightly against the wet edge of a crumpled feather that’s stuck to the inner bone of his wrist, letting out a short quiet hum, a single note that could be a question or simply one of his little sounds.

“You have some on your back, too. Tiny ones.”

For a moment, Jimin can’t hear anything except the blood rushing in his ears. Unthinking, he brings his other hand alongside Jungkook’s to touch the tiny feather pressed to his skin. When it doesn’t move he pinches it and plucks sharply. 

Jungkook makes a tiny sound of surprise. The feather comes away, and as they watch, a bright bead of blood forms on Jimin’s wrist, over the spot where it was nestled.

“What the fuck.” He feels hollowed out, like his insides have been replaced with something sick and burning. He doesn’t realize until Jungkook’s grip solidifies around his wrist how badly his arms are shaking.

“Jimin. Breathe with me?”

With Jungkook’s hand on his wrist, Jimin experiences a stunning moment of clarity, like his consciousness has been jolted outside his body. He sees himself, shaking, jaw clenched, on the verge of lashing out, and Jungkook’s gentle concern, his round eyes, the way he’s leaning forward like he wants to come closer but isn’t sure if Jimin will allow it.

Slowly, deliberately, Jimin sinks into a crouch and wraps his arms around himself, bowing his head and breathing deeply.

After a few long breaths, he feels the clench in his shoulders slowly start to give way. If he shifts his shoulders forward and back a little, he can feel it, a soft tickle along his shoulder blades. More tiny feathers. He squeezes his eyes shut and keeps breathing, long and slow, until his inhales are so deep that he feels like some giant undersea creature taking in water at the surface. 

Some time after that, he feels Jungkook’s soft touch on his shoulder. Without speaking, Jimin shifts the hand that’s clutching his own shoulder and lays it over Jungkook’s hand. Jungkook’s skin feels warmer than his, and his thumb moves back and forth lightly over Jimin’s fingers.

Taking another slow breath in, Jimin considers. He feels the shape of Jungkook’s fingers, a little broader than his, and the soft velvety warmth of his skin. He thinks this is probably the last time he’ll hold Jungkook’s hand.

Letting his breath out decisively, he stands up and lets go.

He looks at Jungkook, his sweet concerned face, his mussed hair, the way the blanket wrapped around him has slipped off one strong shoulder. He tries to memorize this before it’s too late.

He feels the words drop from his lips into the space between them, heavy as stones. “I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier, but I let things get in the way. I’m going to leave today.”

Jungkook just looks at him and tilts his head, like he’s letting it sink in, and then he nods. “You’re going back with Hobi? I guess they need you, right? It’s ok. I thought maybe you might.”

His eyes drop. His posture is the same, but Jimin can see something eloquent in the angle of his face, the way his hand twists slightly in the blanket.

“Jungkook. It’s not because of you. You’re— perfect. You’re more than that. It’s not even because Hobi needs me. I need to leave because of me. I can’t be here anymore, I’m too dangerous. I should have realized that a long time ago.”

Jungkook’s eyes fly back up to look at him, wide with something ferocious, and Jimin is painfully reminded of the day they met, the way he glared at him while giving his speech about the purpose of the rescue.

“Why would you say that? You protected all of us yesterday. You should be proud of that. What changed?”

Jimin sighs. That sick feeling is back, simmering at the base of his brain. He’s not used to choosing his words carefully about this, this deep incontrovertible truth about himself that he tries to bury as much as he can, until it bursts free again and inevitably ruins everything good in his life. 

“This, Jungkook.” He gestures with his hand, free of telltale feathers for now, a slow trickle of blood bright at his wrist. “This is who I really am. I’m fucked up because of what happened to me. Cursed, if you want to put it that way. And anyone I get close to gets caught up in it too.”

Jungkook looks furious. Jimin can feel this spiraling out of control, but he doesn’t know what to do, how to protect him. Maybe there’s no protecting him from this.

“Jimin. That’s not what this means. I know it’s really scary, but it doesn’t mean you have to run away. We can get through it. You’re not cursed because of it.” 

Jimin can feel his desperation building, his need to get Jungkook to see past the filter of his own kindness to understand the truth. “No. You don’t get it. You never saw what I was like before, the last time I went through this. When my body starts changing, it’s just— absolute chaos. Last time I would set things on fire by accident, I blew things up, I didn’t have control over anything. I can’t let that happen here.”

Jungkook is still looking at him with such intensity, like he’s taking in every word Jimin is saying and alchemizing it, turning it all into reasons to hold him close instead of push him away like he should. 

“I told you, I’m not scared of you. Did your friends abandon you last time? I don’t think they did. It’s ok for you to be scared, but you still deserve to make your own choices. You can’t let the fear of something bad happening control everything.”

Jimin tries to hold on. He can’t even look at him right now, his serious earnest face, his stubborn way of turning around everything Jimin is saying. 

“You’re not listening. Do you hear what I’m telling you? This isn’t about us, you wanting to be there for me, none of that. That doesn’t matter. If I get out of control again I could destroy this place. I could ruin everything. You should want me gone, you should want me as far away as I can get.”

Jungkook rears back like he’s been hit, the convulsive way an animal moves when dodging a blow. “Don’t tell me what I should do! I just told you I’m not scared of you. Nothing you say about it can change that. I don’t care what happened before. I trust you. If I got scared that easy, do you think I would have started this place?”

“This isn’t about that, Jungkook! You don’t need to prove to me how brave you are! You SHOULD be scared! You shouldn’t want me here. What if I hurt the animals? What if I hurt you? I might blow up and burn this place to the ground and nobody would be able to stop it. That’s what’s at stake. Don’t you get it? I could destroy everything you care about.”

Jungkook’s eyes are shining now with unshed tears. Jimin feels sick knowing he’s the one that made him look like that. He was trying to do this cleanly, to lay the blame only on himself, but somehow he’s only making it worse. 

When Jungkook speaks again his voice is trembling. “I care— I care about you, too. Not just the animals and the rescue. You too.”

Jimin swallows the lump in his throat. He feels awful, knowing that he’s the reason Jungkook is holding back tears. That he could let Jungkook say something like that, and then act like it doesn’t matter. He hates himself. “I’m not— I’m not worth it. You can’t weigh me against all of those things. You can’t give up what matters the most. Not for me.”

“I’m not giving anything up. I’m choosing you too.” He’s breathing faster now, perhaps from the effort of not crying. Jimin should be the one comforting him right now, not the one hurting him. But he just stares back at Jungkook, who’s standing there with his arms wrapped around himself, struggling against tears, and he tries to keep his face flat, tries to give him nothing, because he needs to do that in order to leave.

Jungkook takes a big shuddering breath, and he looks at Jimin like this is the last thing he’ll ever say to him.

“So you’re just going to give up? I thought you didn’t want to let magic control your life.”

He says it with tears in his eyes, face fierce and beautiful, like it’s the last challenge he can throw at him before Jimin runs away like a coward, and it hurts more than it should. It always hurts more than it should.

And Jimin lets it out, the rage, the pain, the things he should always keep hidden, most of all from Jungkook, who is the kindest person he’s ever known. He lets it out, because that’s who he is, and that’s why he never deserved him in the first place.

“I don’t GET to choose, Jungkook! Magic will ALWAYS control my life! I thought I could pretend for a while and it was nice, but I can’t stay here and pretend with you anymore.”

The awful words are out, and everything feels like a lie, but he can’t look away from Jungkook’s face. He wants to make himself feel it, all the pain, every last shred of guilt that he deserves, so he’ll never forget what he did. 

“This was a mistake. I should have left a long time ago. I never should have let this happen.”

Not for the first time, Jimin walks away to the sound of Jungkook crying, and he knows now that the first time it happened he should have left for good. Because this is so much worse. 

Jimin goes back to his cabin and puts on clothes, and packs up his things in some kind of blank state. He doesn’t remember doing it, but somehow he’s heading to the front of the rescue with his bag, and the morning is shining brightly around him, and he’s leaving everything behind. 

Hoseok is kicking around by the pond, laughing at the giant carp, who are showing off, flashing their fins and blowing iridescent bubbles up into the air that swirl and pop around him. Jimin clenches his entire face tight around whatever emotion it is that’s welling up in him at the sight, and pretends everything is fine.

“Hey. You ready to go?”

Hoseok stares at him, and for one horrible moment Jimin thinks he’s going to break down right in front of his hyung in some fantastically dramatic way, in a way he hasn’t in years.

But Hoseok just cocks his head at him and smiles easily, saving him like always. “Sure thing, Jimin-ah! I bet we can hitch a ride on one of those supply wagons heading back from the festival. You done everything you need to do here? Said your goodbyes?”

“Yeah. I did what I need to do.”

This is awful. He can barely string two words together. He’s incredibly thankful for how gracious Hoseok is being, because Jimin knows that one push from him right now would have him toppling over and falling apart.

Jimin looks away quickly and keeps walking toward the front of the rescue. Mercifully, Hoseok follows.

Their departure passes in a blur. They don’t see Yoongi on the way out, and Jimin doesn’t detour to see any of the animals. He doesn’t let himself picture Curry. He doesn’t let himself think about anything until they’re sitting in the back of a supply wagon heading back to the city, bumping along the road and staring up at the small puffy clouds in the cheerful blue sky, and Jimin feels so sick to his stomach that he actually leans over the side to catch his breath, and he knows that he can’t hold it in anymore.

“Jimin-ah. Are you-?”

Jimin gasps it into the air at the edge of the road, looking at nothing but the dirt, unable to face his friend with what he needs to say. 

“I think I fucked up, hyung. I think he— he kept trying so hard to get me to stay but he doesn’t even know me. Not the real me. It’s happening again, the magic is making my body change, I tried to explain it but he just kept telling me it was ok, but how could it ever be ok? He’s perfect, and I’m— like this. I’m fucked up, and it felt so good for someone like him to like me, and I just got carried away. I wanted it too. I thought I could do it, I really thought maybe I wouldn’t fuck everything up like always. But I couldn’t, I can’t give him that. I can’t give him everything he deserves.”

When Jimin is done spewing it all out like vomit, the dark curdled things he’s been holding inside since early this morning, Hoseok is rubbing his back in slow circles, but his voice is the opposite of soothing.

“Jimin. No offense, but what is all this shit? What the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing, hyung. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I didn’t have to do anything. I just showed him who I really am, that’s all.”

“Jimin. I’m sorry you’re hurting right now, but this is the worst, stupidest self-pitying shit I’ve heard in a while. I’m not going to let you wallow in this all the way back home. If you need to fix something, then figure out how to fix it. But don’t act like you ruined everyone’s life, ok? I saw the way Jungkook looked at you yesterday. I’m sure you can fix it, if you’re willing to try.”

Jimin thinks about the way Jungkook looked at him yesterday, and how vulnerable and trusting and brave he was, and his eyes blur with tears. “Oh, fuck, hyung. I fucked up. I really—” 

He gets kind of incoherent after that, because he can’t stop sobbing, and in spite of what he said about not letting Jimin wallow all the way back to the city, Hoseok tucks Jimin into his side, and rubs his back for the rest of the ride, and doesn’t ask him any more about what he did wrong. He just lets Jimin cry.

✧

“Kook-ah. There are some new butterflies in there. I don’t know where the hell they came from.”

Jungkook rolls his head sideways where it’s resting on the breakfast table to squint up at Yoongi.

Unfortunately, he keeps talking. “They’re a different color, and they’re fucking shooting sparks everywhere. What do you think they are?”

Jungkook tilts his head back and forth, like his chin is a fulcrum, as though to say Let me think about it.

“Kook. I think the two different blue ones that I can’t tell apart are breeding. I think they created a secret, third thing that’s even more terrifying. What do you think of that?”

Jungkook forms his mouth into a pout and closes his eyes. Yoongi knows it annoys him when he calls the animals scary, even as a joke. He doesn’t bother to answer.

“Jungkook. You can’t quit talking for the rest of your life. It’s been almost two weeks and you’re the only other person here. I’m this close to asking Jin to come stay here, that’s how desperate it is.”  

“So ask him.” Jungkook’s voice comes out rumbly and hoarse, like his morning voice but a bit more crackly. “You act like you don’t want him here but you still talk about him all the time.”

“This is what it fucking takes to get you to talk again? Mentioning Jin? I thought I was your favorite hyung.”

“I still talk to the animals, hyung.” Jungkook rolls back over so his cheek is pressed flat against the table, letting his hair flop into his eyes.

Yoongi softly moves the hair back from his face with one finger. Jungkook closes his eyes to avoid witnessing anyone treating him with tenderness. 

“How about you come check out these butterflies with me? I know it sounded like I was joking before but I’m legitimately scared of them.”

Jungkook lets out a gusty sigh that ends up sounding kind of like a horse sound because his face is still smushed against the table. He forces his body up from where he’s sprawled across the table, peeling himself up one muscle at a time, and drags himself toward the butterfly enclosure.

Yoongi is too good at taking care of him, which makes it hard to mope in peace.

It’s only been thirteen days, but autumn has fully set in now. The light has that mellow, long-shadowed quality that Jungkook always associates with yellow leaves against crisp blue sky. He usually loves this time of year. 

Right now he hates anything that reminds him of the passage of time, because it means his good memories are just going to get further and further away.

Soon he might only be able to remember the bad things, that awful last conversation that keeps replaying in his mind, and that might become the main thing he remembers of Jimin, because it was the last time they spoke. 

Swallowing the familiar sensation of a lump forming in his throat and blinking away the wetness in his eyes, Jungkook moves numbly to pick up his protective gloves, because he has to take Yoongi at his word if he thinks the new butterflies are dangerous, and he steps up to the front of the enclosure.

Except there’s a butterfly outside of it, fluttering right in front of his face. Small, brilliant purple, with cute rounded wings that make it look like a little heart floating in midair.

“Hyung? Are there holes in the net again?”

“Fuck. No, there shouldn’t be, we just patched it.” 

Yoongi has started circling the netting, running his hands over it and peering carefully for tears, when the tiny purple butterfly in front of Jungkook emits a bright puff of golden sparks and a tiny whoosh sound, and disappears.

Instantaneously, an identical purple butterfly appears in midair next to Yoongi, fluttering unconcernedly along next to him while he checks the netting for holes.

“Um. Hyung?”

Yoongi notices the butterfly next to him and gives a little jolt. “Shit! Where’d this one come from?”

“I think they can teleport.”

Yoongi kneels down where he’s standing and puts his hand over his face. “Great. Fucking great.” 

Jungkook chews his lip and walks over to Yoongi, staring into the enclosure at the mass of shimmering blue and purple wings. “It’s sort of weird that they’re breeding now. It’s so late in the year. Maybe we should have kept the healing ones and the electric shock ones in separate enclosures.” 

Yoongi looks flatly up at him from the ground. “Ok. So we need to build two more of these? To separate the blue ones I can’t tell apart, and another one for these new ones that are already the bane of my existence?”

“Well. I guess. Is there a point to building an enclosure for them, you think? If they can just teleport out?” 

Another tiny whoosh sounds next to Jungkook’s ear, and the little purple butterfly appears back on the other side of the netting, fluttering peacefully down to rest on the stem of a late-blooming wildflower.

“I guess we just have to make sure there are plenty of wildflowers in there? And hope they won’t be tempted to go too far.” Jungkook shrugs. 

Yoongi stares at him for a few more seconds, then heaves himself up off the ground. “Great. And what if these teleporting ones crossbreed with the other ones and create one that can open a portal to hell?”

Jungkook smiles in spite of himself. “Don’t be silly, hyung. You don’t really believe that will happen. Besides, there’s only so much we can do to contain a teleporting butterfly, so we might as well not worry about it. Right?”

Yoongi just stares at him again in that way that means he’s always worrying, that he’ll find a way to worry about things neither of them can even help, and that there’s only so much meditating he can do before the butterflies bring about his imminent emotional collapse.

But he takes a leaf out of Jungkook’s book and doesn’t say any of that.

“Cool. I’m building another one anyway, I’ve had it with not being able to tell them apart.”

Yoongi then pulls him abruptly into a hug, which Jungkook wasn’t quite expecting, and has to lean awkwardly down to accommodate. He very deliberately doesn’t think about the fact that Yoongi and Jimin are almost the same height, and that it reminds him of hugging Jimin.

“Go take care of the animals, Kook-ah.”

“Yeah. Ok, hyung.” Jungkook’s voice is rusty again, but more from unshed tears than disuse this time. Thankfully Yoongi doesn’t comment on it. 

The morning has been surprisingly emotionally exhausting for Jungkook. He’s gotten used to conserving his energy by not talking or interacting with Yoongi at all, but that clearly took a toll on Yoongi, so he can’t do that anymore. He has to be his best self for the animals always, and it’s hard to do that when he feels like a shell of himself, so that’s where he’s been channeling all his energy for the past two weeks since Jimin left.

He slogs through the day, speaking softly and soothingly to the animals, cleaning their enclosures, petting and feeding and playing with them. Sometimes he’ll tear up randomly in the middle of a chore, and he does actually burst into tears when he sees the runt in Honey’s litter, the little blue one, playing a game with the carp that involves blowing bubbles back and forth, but otherwise he’s fine.

It’s nearing sundown when he heads to Curry’s enclosure, and the sky is thickening with dark clouds. The light is taking on that weird yellowy look that might mean a thunderstorm is coming. Jungkook knows that will make all the animals nervous, but especially Curry.

Curry has been alternately taciturn and ferociously clingy since Jimin left, which Jungkook can relate to. Jimin spent more time with him than any of the other animals, and clearly loved him, and it showed. 

Jungkook shuts that line of thinking down immediately, blinks through the tears in his eyes, and lets himself into Curry’s enclosure. 

He’s immediately startled by Curry stampeding past him and yowling, then skidding to a stop in the corner of the enclosure, back arched and ears flared. He’s bigger than he used to be, almost up to Jungkook’s thigh now, and he has a tendency to rear back on his hind legs when he’s distressed, almost like a small horse. It would be very hard to mistake him for a regular cat now, with his size and his eight legs instead of four. 

They’re still sizing each other up when a shuddering flash cuts white across the sky, startling them both, and a deep rumble heralds the start of the rainfall. 

A shiver shoots down Jungkook’s spine as the first cold drops strike his skin, and Curry lets out another angry yowl, racing back over to Jungkook and latching on with his claws, climbing his body in an apparent attempt to hide from the rain.

“Ahh, Curry, wait— hey—” 

Alarmingly, Curry is now trying to burrow under his shirt, while quick wet drops intensify around them, soaking Jungkook’s hair and shoulders. 

“Sweetheart, wait—” Carefully, Jungkook tries looping an arm under his shirt, safe in the knowledge that he’s wearing protective gloves if Curry doesn’t like what he’s doing. He can feel the tremble of Curry’s soft body, and the tiny thump of his rapid heartbeat against his chest. “C’mon, baby, let’s go up to your treehouse, ok? You’ll be dry up there.” 

Jungkook considers if it’s possible to just climb up there now with Curry hiding inside his shirt. The claws digging into the bare skin of his chest are kind of painful, though.

He’s still standing there, carefully positioning his arm up under his shirt to try to reach Curry, when a streak of lightning shoots blindingly near, flashing through the entire enclosure, a deafening crack sounds, and massive shards of splintered wood from a lightning-struck tree come hurtling through the chain-link walls of the enclosure. 

Jungkook curls down on instinct, arms wrapped protectively around Curry, and feels the telltale needle-sharp prick of fangs sinking into his chest just below his collarbone.

“Oh— shit…”

He only has a few seconds to wonder blearily if the effects of Curry’s venom might be stronger from being bitten so close to his heart before he passes out.

When he wakes up an unknown amount of time later, delirious and soaking wet, to see that the storm has passed and a series of gaping holes have been torn in the side of Curry’s enclosure from the shards of the exploded tree, his adrenaline kicks in, overriding the burning waves of pain wracking through his body.

He must black out again at some point, because the next thing he knows he’s waking up on the bank of the pond, illuminated strangely by a pulsing purple-blue glow, and Yoongi is shouting at him.

“Hyung..? What—”

“Kook-ah! What the hell happened to you! Why are you passed out in the pond?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook struggles to lift his head. It feels like it weighs a hundred kilos. 

His body is in fact half in the pond, which he didn’t really notice at first because of how wet he is from the rain. He must have passed out again on his way to the infirmary to get the antivenom. 

The strange pulsing glow is coming from Honey’s smallest baby, who’s grown by now to the size of a small cat, and is perched on Jungkook’s arm, body glowing incredibly brightly and staring at Jungkook with huge dark button eyes.

“Oh.. thanks, little one…”

“Jungkook. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Yoongi sounds like he’s panicking, which Jungkook sort of understands. He was panicking about something earlier. Wait.

Jungkook lurches up off the ground, causing Honey’s baby to let out a startled gurgle. “Hyung! Curry! We have to go look for him, his enclosure is all torn up— a tree got hit by lightning, and Curry bit me, and I don’t know where he is—”

“Slow down. I hear you, but we need to get you the antidote first, ok? And then we’ll look for him.”

Overcome by another wave of feverish pain, Jungkook falls back, head lolling on his neck before Yoongi catches him with an arm behind his shoulder. “No, hyung, it’s been— I don’t even know how long it’s been, he could have run away, he could be anywhere—” 

“Kook-ah. You can’t even sit up without help. Antidote first.” 

Yoongi’s face swims in his vision, uncomfortably blurry. Jungkook can’t see very well and he thinks he might be crying.

“Curry— we can’t lose him, hyung, he— he was Jimin’s favorite—”

“Ok, Kook-ah, first things first. Honey’s baby, can you make sure he stays put? I’ll be back in 2 with the antidote.”

Oddly, Honey’s baby makes a guttural chirping sound, almost as though she’s responding to Yoongi. As he takes off toward the infirmary, she takes a step forward onto Jungkook’s chest and swivels her head toward him again, this time at close range, her little face and giant beady eyes taking up his entire field of vision.

“Ok. I’m not moving,” The words slur out of Jungkook’s mouth. His vision blurs in and out of focus, the beautiful pulsing light coming from the little salamander’s body like a strange galaxy perched on his chest. “Gonna call you Baby Blue. You’re so pretty.”

“Great. That’s a good name for her.”

Somehow Yoongi is back already, and rolling up Jungkook’s wet sleeve to give him a shot of antivenom. He feels so tired and weak. He knows he has to hold on, because Curry needs him, because Jimin needs him— but no, that isn’t right, Jimin isn’t even here anymore— and everything is going dark.

When Jungkook startles awake the third time, he’s in his own bed, Baby Blue is curled up in the middle of his chest like a weird clammy cat, and the morning sun is shining through his window.

“Fuck!” Cradling the salamander carefully in one arm, he gets out of bed as quickly as he can and starts pulling on the first clothes he can find that aren’t dirty and wet. Baby Blue climbs neatly onto his shoulder and sits there, one squishy paw braced against the side of Jungkook’s neck. It’s a little weird but he doesn’t mind it.

He rushes through the rescue, single-minded, ignoring the hunger pangs in his stomach, and the residual aches and pains from being pumped full of venom and passing out three times in a row. His eyeballs feel like they’re pulsing hotly in his head, and he’s so thirsty.

When he gets to Curry’s enclosure, he can see right away that it’s been cleared and cleaned up by magic. The mess of splintered tree shards and ripped fencing is gone, the holes in the fence seamlessly patched with shiny new chainlink. 

But the door to Curry’s enclosure is standing open.

Stomach roiling anxiously, Jungkook races inside, calling for him, searching every corner and hiding place. He climbs the tree recklessly, head spinning with faint dizziness, but Curry isn’t there. He isn’t anywhere. He’s just about to start climbing trees outside the enclosure when Yoongi finally shows up.

“Hyung—” 

“I know, Kook-ah, I’m sorry.” Yoongi does look sorry, and so tired he might be ill. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks pale and sweaty. Jungkook wonders guiltily if he slept at all.

“He isn’t there. I patched it up and left the door open in case he comes back. I’ve been searching since first light, but he never liked me much anyway, I don’t know if he’d come when I call him.”

Jungkook nods, shivering in the thin tee shirt he’s wearing, and tries to weigh the options calmly. It’s a lot easier than it was when he was pumped full of venom.

His first responsibility is to all the other animals at the rescue. He knows that. They still need him even with Curry gone missing. 

But it doesn’t feel right. Curry, out there all alone, obviously not a regular animal. An easy target for poachers. Scared and aggressive, and a little too big now to hide safely.

Jungkook turns on the spot, looking in different directions hopelessly, mind spinning. 

Baby Blue lets out a weird, rasping bark, and nudges her damp head against the side of Jungkook’s face. 

“Huh? Baby, are you hungry?”

She responds with a weird, seething little gurgle, and another sharp bark. Her fat tail swings over his shoulder at an angle, pointing off into the trees, and then falls to Jungkook’s arm with a wet slap. 

Without questioning it, Jungkook walks over to the trees, eyes sharp.

He sees it right away. A series of fresh scratches, overlaid on the base of a tree trunk, the marks left by claws sharpened from many sets of paws. Pressed into the damp earth, Jungkook can clearly see the unusual pattern of four dense sets of paws tramping away through the trees, heading at an angle toward the front of the rescue, towards the road in the direction of the city.

Jungkook’s mind clears. He knows what he has to do.

“Hyung. I have to go. Go get Jin-hyung and ask him to stay for a few days to help out, ok? It’s too much for you to do alone. I’ll do a round with the animals until he gets here, and then I’ll go find Curry.”

Yoongi is staring at him in utter disbelief. “Jungkook. I don’t doubt that you’ll find Curry, especially with your little helper here—” Baby Blue makes a tiny trumpeting noise that’s actually pretty funny, if Jungkook were in the mood to laugh— “but you’re practically dead on your feet. You need to sit down and eat before you go running off. You can do a round with the animals after that, but not before. Ok? I know you’re worried, but if you pass out somewhere out there, I won’t be able to help you.”

Jungkook cranes his neck sideways to look at Baby Blue. She stares back at him, impassive. Jungkook’s stomach makes a loud grumbling noise. 

“Fine. But you have to eat too, hyung. You look like you’re half dead.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Yeah. Whatever. We’ll both eat. I can’t believe this.”

Jungkook starts striding toward the center of the rescue, in the direction of the kitchen and storeroom, which has everything he’ll need to pack for his journey.

“I have to do this, hyung. I can’t just let him go. I have to try.”

Yoongi peers at him sideways as they walk, but he doesn’t comment on Jungkook’s words, which is just fine. He knows how it sounds.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he thinks he knows where Curry is going.

✧

For what feels like the hundredth time that night, Jimin reaches over his shoulder to rub at his back, prickly and itchy where the feathers are growing in.

Over the past two weeks, the space between his shoulder blades has grown alarmingly thick with them. Every morning he wakes up on the roof of the half-abandoned warehouse he shares with his family, blood dripping down his arms and the sweetest of dreams evaporating into the sunrise, dreams of a boy with soft curly hair and big sweet eyes, circled by colorful butterflies and iridescent bubbles. Once he’s fully awake, the dreams become memories that only make him sad. He tries not to think too much when he’s awake.

Jimin hates running reconnaissance. He’d rather be the distraction, the center of attention, the one who gets to blow stuff up and draw all the danger to himself, and laugh in his enemy’s face while dancing away across the rooftops.

But he’s still supposed to be serving his sentence, and he can’t be seen. So here he is, creeping around in the dark and trying to make a map.

This is the seventh labyrinthine storeroom he’s crept into tonight, in his quest for the absolute perfect spot to enter the underground lair of White Swallow. It has to be strategic, close enough that they can get the kids out in time, and far enough from the guards and defenses so they don’t get trapped.

It’s tedious work, only for the truly dedicated. And right now, it’s all Jimin has to distract himself.

During the day, he can’t leave the house, can’t be seen by anyone outside his family, not until his sentence is officially over. 

It’s a joke, really. Taking so much care with the appearance of abiding by the law, when Namjoon is in their house every other day, bringing little gifts of art supplies for Taehyung and street food snacks for the kids, blushing and accidentally knocking things over when Tae holds his hand and thanks him very seriously.

It’s cute. Whatever. Jimin doesn’t care. It has nothing to do with him.

It’s just not what he thought he’d come back to. He’s so used to being the center of everything, the indispensable sun they all circle around. He’s used to feeling incredibly needed. 

Not that he isn’t needed now. Maybe he just wants to feel busier than this, so busy that he can’t think about anything else. That he can’t justify wanting to be anywhere else.

A small, horrible part of him wants it to be impossible for him to ever leave, to ever dream of anything else other than this. 

He’s built his entire life around preparing to destroy White Swallow. After he goes down, everyone else will be small in comparison. He’s the most powerful there is, and the worst of them. Jimin knows that.

He’s the one that started all this, and Jimin is going to be the one who ends it.

Some part of him can’t help but think that he’s hurtling toward his own destruction at the same time, the destruction of the only thing that ever gave him purpose. Maybe there will be no point to his existence after this. 

Maybe he only thought he could move on, and he can’t, and when this is over everyone else will slowly leave him behind.

It doesn’t matter. This is all he’s fit to do. And he does it well.

Finally spotting the cheerfully colored smoke bombs on the horizon, Hobi’s helpful distraction a few blocks over, Jimin crawls soundlessly forward from the shadows, trailing his fingers along the floor in search of a sealed opening. 

It only takes him a few seconds to locate the specific pattern in the floorboards that hides a secret passage.

The space in the floor thunks open softly, revealing a spindly ladder down into the darkness. Jimin will have to go carefully, without any light, to avoid being detected. But he’s gotten good at crawling in the dark.

He’s moving for less than a minute when he already sees the passage lightening, and he knows that he finally found the right one. 

This isn’t the place where he and Tae were kept, when White Swallow had them. His operation has stepped up since then. He needs more room to keep his secrets, to hold his prisoners deep where no one can hear their cries for help. 

He realizes almost immediately that humans aren’t the only ones down here.

Along the passage are massive archways blocked with heavy metal gates, crisscrossing bars as thick as Jimin’s arm. The top, six meters above his head, is open, and capped with cruelly sharp points. 

The room at the far end is heavily guarded and full of noise, crying and wailing, cages rattling and clanging. Jimin does his best to tune it out and stay focused. He knows that one is where the children are. 

His body clenches, hardening around his heart, forcibly repressing the way he wants to run down the hall right now and fight until they’re all free. This isn’t going to be the night he saves them, but he will save them soon, very soon.

The closer rooms are unguarded and quiet, which makes him nervous. The first is completely empty, nothing but darkness and damp dripping on stone. 

In the second, he can hear something breathing in the dark.

In the third, the last before the end, there’s something rumbling, stirring massively in deep shadow, and tiny glints of light all filling up the darkness like stars, too high up to be comprehensible as a single being. Jimin freezes where he is, going stock still like prey caught in a hunter’s gaze.

This isn’t right. It’s too big. How could they get something so big down here?

The thing in the darkness grumbles and roars, and it sounds like the voice of the earth itself.

The ground shakes below Jimin’s feet. He feels like his ears are bursting, his entire body shaking with vibrations inside and out. He turns back and runs blindly, as fast as he can, not worrying anymore about being seen by the guards. If there is shouting behind him he can’t hear it over that endless roar.

Something coming down the hall in the opposite direction smacks into his chest with a soft thump.

Jimin goes down gracefully, turning his full-on sprint into a slide along the floor, already grappling with the thing that jumped on him. It’s holding on tightly, but doesn’t seem to be moving much. He hears a sharp, ecstatic little rumble that strikes him as suddenly familiar, and the tickle of whiskers against his neck.

“...Curry?” His voice is faint with disbelief. 

The massive ball of fur attached to his chest purrs deeply, and he feels the telltale prick of eight sets of claws pressing in and out of his shirt as the cat kneads happily against him.

“I missed you too, but how did you find me, sweetheart? What are you doing here?”

Jimin rolls to his feet, one arm looped protectively around the cat, who’s a little heavier than he remembers, and swings himself back up the shaky ladder to the storeroom. Nobody seems to have followed him, most likely occupied down the hall with the thing that roared.

He doesn’t let himself stop until he’s out of the underground passage, is sure no one’s following him, and has fully checked every corner of the uninhabited storeroom. There’s definitely no one else there. His stomach sinks.

“Is your dad around, baby? Is Jungkook here?” But he already knows something isn’t right with that question.

Curry, first of all, is a mess. His fur is matted and dirty, with streaks of something that smells like gasoline along his side, and a few foxtails caught in his fur. Jimin knows Jungkook would never let Curry wander around unsupervised, least of all in this state. 

The only conclusion he can come to is that Curry escaped, and somehow found his way here.

Which means there could be trouble at the rescue.

Jimin has to do something. He has no idea what might have happened. Terrible images rise up in his mind unbidden, of more poachers, of Jungkook and Yoongi outnumbered, of Jungkook hurt— 

No. Belatedly, Jimin realizes he’s leaning against a damp wall in an alleyway two blocks from home, head spinning, breath stuck in his lungs, moving on autopilot with his mind half out of his body.

“Mrrrowww.” Curry shoves his soft head against the bottom of Jimin’s jaw and starts aggressively rubbing against his chin and neck, the purr motor in his chest rumbling to life.

“Curry. Are Jungkook and Yoongi ok? Is anyone hurt?” 

Curry continues to purr and nuzzle Jimin’s neck unconcernedly.

“I feel fucking stupid talking to you. You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? You’d scratch out a message in the dirt with your paw or something? I feel like I’m going crazy. Do they need me?”

Curry lifts his little head and stares imperiously up at Jimin, in that way he has that makes it seem like he’s passing utter judgment on every decision Jimin has ever made, and then he reaches up with one paw and hits Jimin lightly in the face.

“Hey! You little monster!”

Jimin hugs Curry back against his chest and buries his face in his fur, nuzzling and inhaling deeply. In spite of how dirty he is, he still smells good underneath, like wildflowers and open air, a smell Jimin associates with the rescue. With Jungkook.

Curry is purring again.

“I don’t know if you’re trying to tell me something or if you’re just being a cat.” Jimin mumbles this into Curry’s fur and Curry gives a little chirrup sound that seems like it should come from a much smaller animal. 

Jimin snorts and continues walking home through narrow alleyways overhung with laundry lines, Curry cradled against his chest. Occasionally a pigeon or a mourning dove will flap across the narrow space overhead and Curry’s head perks up sharply, watching them with interest. 

“The kids are gonna love you. Do you like kids?”

“Mrrrrp.”

“Ok. I hope so.”

Jimin takes a sharp left into the even smaller alleyway that holds the entrance to his home, via the backdoor of the dumpling restaurant on the ground floor. He bursts into the steamy, deliciously scented air by the kitchen, and races lightly up the winding staircase, ducking through a giant hole in the wall hidden behind a hanging sheet once he’s two floors up. From there, he strides through several gutted and abandoned workrooms, dark and musty, then follows a hallway so narrow his shoulders brush the walls on either side, to a short ladder leading to a trapdoor in the ceiling.

He throws the trapdoor open with a loud squeak of hinges, which they never bother to grease so you can always hear when someone’s coming in. 

“I brought a friend!” Jimin yells into the series of small, cramped railroad-style rooms he lives in with his family. 

He hears the telltale clink of a mug being set down in the kitchen, and a fond smile curls over his face before his best friend even appears. 

“What took you so long?” Tae comes around the corner, eyes big in his face, his ocean-blue hair a windswept mess. “I’ve been back for hours. I could feel you out there having an existential crisis but I didn’t know where you were.”

Jimin laughs, the presence of his best friend already lightening his mood. “You’ve been here for half an hour at most, babe. I got a little sidetracked.”

“Who’s this?” Tae creeps over to them with small cautious steps, curious gaze trained on Curry. 

Curry cranes his neck, already sniffing inquisitively at Taehyung, and Jimin can’t help but grin. 

“This is Curry. He’s, um— he’s from the rescue, but I don’t know what he’s doing here. He must have gotten out.”

“Really? You came all the way here to find us, sweet thing?” Tae leans down to put his face level with Curry, and reaches up gently to tickle under his chin, his voice going gooey and soft when he addresses the cat. Curry’s eyes close in happy curves of pleasure.

Jimin wants to laugh. He’s never seen Curry behaving like such a house cat before.

“He’s clearly on his best behavior.”

“He’s never done anything wrong in his life.” 

Taehyung says it with great conviction, as though Curry has imparted his entire life history to him in the mere moments since they met, and Jimin’s chest shakes with the easy laughter only his soulmate can bring.

“Jimin-ah! You scared the shit out of me. Why’d it take you so long to get here? Oh, hey. What’s the little monster doing here?”

Hoseok swings around the corner, arms crossed and ready to give Jimin shit, but his body language transforms into a loose caricature of shock when he sees Curry.

“I don’t know, hyung. He just showed up when I was getting out. But hey— we need to talk about what I saw. Good news and bad news.”

Hoseok stares at him skeptically for a moment. “Yeah, we need to talk about that. But aren’t you worried about your man back at the rescue? He must be crying his heart out right now if this little one got away.”

Taehyung peers back and forth between them significantly, suddenly alert to the conversation again, fingers still scratching gently under Curry’s chin.

“Shut up, hyung. I’ll worry about that later. We’ll send a letter or something. Right now the plan to take down the mages is more important.”

Taehyung makes a high, incredulous sound, like Jimin just said something ridiculously funny. “A letter!”

Jimin turns a glare on him. “You shut up too. Can we focus, please?”

“Tell us, Jimin.” Hoseok looks like he’s putting on his serious face for Jimin’s benefit, which is annoying, but for now he’ll take it, as long as they stop giving him shit.

“Should we go on the roof? Where are the kids?” They have a rule that the details of their planmaking never happen in front of the kids, so that they have a certain level of protection from danger, but that usually means finding someplace they know the kids can’t listen in. 

“Joon’s got them on the roof now, they’re building stuff. We’re fine.” 

Taehyung says it so nonchalantly, like he trusts Namjoon with the kids implicitly. Jimin knows Tae sees his reaction to it and is just choosing not to acknowledge it. Fine. 

He wonders if this is as annoying for Tae as it is for Jimin, like when Tae sees right through him about Jungkook. He’d never before wished that they could be a little less transparent to each other.

Maybe it’s not the transparency that hurts so much, but the easy way that Tae seems to wear his heart on his sleeve about it, while Jimin is still trying to bury his own a million meters deep.

Curry starts squirming in his arms then, and he has too many legs for Jimin to keep hold of at once, so he lets him go to roam around the room and sniff things.

Jimin leads them down the narrow hallway lined with doors that runs through the heart of their home all the way to the room at the end, the little corner room with windows, that he and Tae have shared since forever. He dodges the big hammock that they sometimes pile in with as many kids as will fit, and crosses to the open cabinet, pulling out a half-rolled piece of paper from the small space stuffed with countless others.

He spreads the map flat on the floor as Tae puts a few candles and a small potted plant on the edges to hold it down. Jimin grabs a pencil and immediately starts sketching.

“So the last storehouse was the one. Leads right down to where they’ve got the kids. I could hear them in there, and the place was crawling with guards. But only down at the end.” He emphasizes it with a tap of the pencil.

“The entry was completely unguarded. I got the distinct vibe no one wanted to be down there. And then I found out why.” 

He lets out a deep sigh, and he can feel the way Hoseok’s eyes are burning into him, as well as Tae’s light curious gaze, as they wait for Jimin to drop it on them.

“They had animals locked up. Creatures they probably messed with magically and then couldn’t control. I think dangerous ones, ones the mages themselves can’t deal with. One of them was— I’m pretty sure it was a dragon.”

Hoseok lets out a slow whistle at the same time Tae whispers, “No fucking way.”

“I don’t know what else could be that big. Either way, it’s gonna be a problem. The first thing they’d do, once we break in there to get the kids out, is set those animals on us. And we need a plan to deal with it.”

Hoseok makes a clicking sound with his mouth. “And how the fuck do we deal with a dragon? The other ones, maybe, but it’s too big. What are we gonna do, blow it up?”

Tae looks sharply at Jimin, like he already knows what Jimin is going to say.

“Hyung. We can’t hurt it. We’re not like the mages, we’re doing this to liberate them. The animals are suffering too. They don’t deserve what’s been done to them.”

Hoseok pauses in his relentless pacing of the room and spins to face him. “Ok. I know you fell in love with a cute little animal rescuer and now you want to save the dragons, but let’s be realistic here, Jimin-ah. What’s the plan to deal with it? How are you gonna convince the dragon we’re there to liberate it before it crushes us to a pulp?”

From the doorway of the room, Curry gives a loud, gurgling meow. Jimin recognizes it instantly as his I want to run around and play with you sound, and stands up, taking it as the perfect excuse to ignore Hoseok’s offensively casual reference to Jungkook.

“I don’t know, hyung, I think we are gonna need to blow some stuff up, but not the dragon. Can we blow up the whole storehouse? Like, just blow a giant hole for the dragon to escape out of?”

Tae laughs like Jimin is telling a joke, which Jimin knows is absolutely warranted. It doesn’t even bother him. He’s the one with the big ideas, and Hoseok is the one who reins him in. It’s how they work.

“Sure, Jimin, we’ll blow up an entire building in the middle of the densely populated district we live in. There’s nothing that could possibly go wrong there.” 

Curry gurgles louder, and Jimin starts rummaging around in the closet for the peacock feather he knows is in there somewhere. 

“It’s on top of the cabinet, Chim. In the vase.”

Jimin glances absently over his shoulder at his soulmate. “Thanks Tae.” 

“That’s always creepy, you know, no matter how many times I witness it.” Hoseok says it in the sort of friendly, conversational way that tells them he doesn’t really find it creepy at all, but Tae rises to the bait anyway.

“It’s not. It’s sweet. You’re just jealous you don’t have a Jimin. Everybody wants one.”

Jimin can’t hold back the smile that automatically curls across his face at his sweet tone, and the slightly childish sentiment that somehow sounds so earnestly true when he says it.

Jimin leaps up and grabs the feather from on top of the cabinet, and sweeps it through the air dramatically, immediately catching Curry’s attention.

The oversized cat goes bouncing across the room, leaping and rolling while they continue the discussion, sending Tae into a fit of delight. 

Eventually the conversation fizzles out, because they can’t figure it out yet, but Jimin knows that they will, because they have to. And eventually, the kids come tramping back in when it gets too cold to be out on the roof, cheeks pink and breath steaming, and Taehyun talking a mile a minute about the giant balloon they’re apparently building, which Jimin doesn’t totally follow but is glad to see them happy about, and Namjoon is there again, awkward and sweet, and an immediate distraction for Tae.

The kids take over playing with Curry, and Jimin teaches them how to approach him gently, how to let him come to them and sniff them before they try to touch him, how to tell when he’s excited or when he’s scared. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem scared.

By the end of the night, all five of the kids are curled up in the hammock with Curry stretched across Soobin’s chest like a big furry pillow, and it’s the cutest thing Jimin has ever seen.

He wishes, with a sharp pang to his heart, that Jungkook could be there to see it.

He’s decided that he’ll take Curry back to the rescue tomorrow. He knows Jungkook will be worried sick, and he doesn’t want Curry to get too used to being here.

If he does, it will be far too hard for all of them when he has to leave.

✧

Jimin can’t sleep.

He’s been sleeping on the roof for the past two weeks, ever since coming back to the city, even though the nights are getting colder as the last wisps of summer fade into autumn. 

He hates sleeping alone, used to cuddling up with Tae in their giant bed, or with whichever of the kids is having a nightmare, or whichever one just feels like sleeping together in a big pile of warm safety.

But ever since the day he left the rescue, he’s been waking up with feathers prickling from his back, more and more every day, blood running down his arms and staining his shirt, and he doesn’t want anyone else to see.

He knows that Tae knows something is wrong, but he hasn’t said anything. Somehow, that makes it worse. That he hasn’t just pushed his way past Jimin’s barriers the way he always does, assuming easy entitlement to his problems, figuring out together how they’re going to fix things.

It’s like his time at the rescue created an invisible wall between them, and even though they can still see each other just as well as always, they can’t touch.

Jimin shivers and burrows deeper into the nest of blankets, staring up at the few faint stars he can see in the sky here in the middle of the city. The moon is the surest bet, always the brightest thing in the sky. He remembers, briefly, Tae’s dream about him carrying the moon on his back. He doesn’t want to think about that now. He closes his eyes, but sleep still doesn’t come.

Tomorrow he has to go back to the rescue. When Curry first came running into his arms, he was sick with worry, wanting to rush back there right away. But now he’s scared.

Kitty Gang Jimin, the most ferocious freedom fighter in the River District, feared by petty criminals and kingpins alike, is scared to face a sweet animal rescue owner who’s never been anything but kind to him.

Maybe what he’s really scared of is—

A soft scraping sound on the roof tiles cuts through the late-night spin cycle of his thoughts, the only warning he gets before another body plops into the nest of blankets with him, wriggling under and cuddling up against him. Ice cold fingers slide into his shirt sleeves and into the crook of his elbows.

“Mmph. Tae? It’s late.”

“Yeah, no shit. But neither of us can sleep alone.”

Jimin nuzzles his cold nose into Tae’s soft curly hair. “Yeah. You’ll regret it though. You’ll wake up covered in my blood. My body’s doing a thing.”

Tae doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s ok. I like it because it’s yours.”

Jimin giggles, feeling a little bit of the knot inside him loosening. “Gross.”

Tae stills a little, his slowly warming fingers still digging into the crooks of Jimin’s arms. “You say that, but it’s not, you know. It’s just us. Isn’t that what you wrote about in your letter? I thought you said you felt safe there.”

Jimin feels a rush of shame overtake him. “It’s not— I mean, I did feel safe. It was my fault that I left things the way I did. Not theirs. Not Jungkook’s.”

“Left things how?” He asks it in that sweet, innocent way he has, with no expectations attached to it, just ready to listen. Jimin loves that about him.

“I was mean to him. On purpose. It’s so stupid when I think about it now. He was so kind to me, and I woke up like this, my body doing weird magic stuff it hasn’t done in years, and I lost it. I decided I had to torch everything, to get out before I could hurt him even worse, before he would see what I’m really like.”

Tae lets out a long, deep hum, voice quirking up at the end with slight incredulity. “What are you really like then, my Chim-chiminie?”

“I don’t know. You know. Explosive. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Out of control, when my body starts changing. There’s no telling what might happen.” 

“Hmmm. What about the kids? Would you say the same thing to Beomgyu? Just last month he was turning all sorts of things into frogs. Is he dangerous?”

“No.” Jimin’s voice is sharp, pricked back on himself with poison. “Of course not. It’s different.”

“Different how?” Tae’s hand moves sleepily into the back of Jimin’s loose shirt, skimming lightly over the feathers prickling out of his back. “How is this different from frogs?”

“It’s just— you know me. You know that I get angry, that— we didn’t have anyone to look out for us, the way the kids have us. We had to do different things. Make different decisions.”

“We had to kill some mages.” Tae’s voice is flat and smooth when he says it, like there’s nothing out of the ordinary in that statement. 

“I don’t regret it. But maybe I don’t want that for Jungkook. Maybe I don’t want to burden him with that.”

“Jimin. He knows you, right? He probably knows you’ve killed mages from the first day he met you. It’s literally the most obvious thing about you. It’s old news.”

Jimin can’t help but laugh weakly into Tae’s hair. He’s always too good at this, at turning one of Jimin’s intractable dead ends into an easy loophole.

“Does he look down on you? Or is he like what you put in your letter?”

Jimin closes his eyes and thinks about Jungkook. “He’s more than that. He’s sweet, and gentle, and understanding. By nature, but he also makes so much effort, he tries so hard. I’ve never met anyone like that, who’s so good already but still tries so hard to be even better.”

The stars twinkle down at them, and Tae presses a little closer, long warm body against his, safe in their blankets against the chill of night.

“Jimin. We’ve always been judged, right? We’ve always had people looking down on us. So why shouldn’t we take what happiness we can find? You expected Jungkook to fail you the way everyone else does, but he didn’t. He did the opposite and you still pushed him away.”

Jimin’s stomach drops. He shivers involuntarily. “Maybe he shouldn’t have to take care of me like one of his animals. Maybe he deserves better than that. He deserves happiness too.”

“Ok. Let’s pretend that’s all true for a second, that you’re basically another animal he has to take care of, even though I think you might be simplifying your relationship a bit. Even if that’s true, isn’t that what he devoted his life to? Doesn’t he love doing that more than anything?”

Jimin closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to answer, because everything he might say feels like a lie. He burrows deeper under the covers, tucking the blankets over both their heads into a protective tent. 

This is always the part of the problem where Tae has to just keep untangling it, rolling it out like a ball of yarn until it makes something true.

He accepts Jimin’s implicit request, scooting close to him in the warm air under the blankets, in the soft moonlit darkness. “You said you wanted to stop dragging this shit behind you. The bad memories, the suffering, the rage that comes from it. But that if you did stop, you thought you might lose your purpose. That you wouldn’t be passionate enough to fight anymore. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

Jimin tightens his hold compulsively, arms closing around Tae, squeezing tight out of some unconscious refusal of those words, of that possibility of loss.

He speaks with his face buried into Tae’s hair. “I can’t lose that feeling. I can’t. Everything we went through— I can’t let it all be for nothing. ” 

He doesn’t notice that he’s shaking until he feels Tae’s hand petting the back of his neck, smoothing down his spine with a steady, firm touch that grounds him. They hold each other close until the shaking stops.

Tae clears his throat lightly, and Jimin perks up, gone soft and warm in his arms, fears aired safely in the shared space of the tent of blankets. He’s as ready to listen as he’ll ever be.

“Chim. This is gonna sound weird to you. But you’ve always been angrier than me. I know it’s fucked up, but I’m not the grudge holding type. I never would have thought of getting revenge, or of reshaping society to acknowledge us. Of doing something meaningful with our pain. I was happy just to move on, just to have my own life. That was enough for me.”

He tilts his head back, eyes staring into Jimin’s. “You wanted to ask about Namjoon. I can tell.”

Jimin looks down at him, brow wrinkling sleepily. “Not because I don’t like him or something. I just don’t get how— you make it seem so easy.”

“That’s what I’m saying. For me it is easy. And I know that’s not fair. It’s just what I want, and I know that it’s what I want. For my life to be simple and easy and sweet. But I also want things because you want them. I want you to get what you want too. To put it very succinctly, you’re acting like you can only have one thing. Like you’ll suddenly give up on something you’ve been fighting for your whole life just because you want something else that just makes you happy. But maybe it doesn’t work that way. Maybe if you want both, then you get to have both. You don’t have to choose one or the other.”

“I know I don’t. I thought there was no way I could choose him. I thought— I don’t know. I thought me choosing anyone else would ruin things. I thought it would ruin us, that none of you would ever trust me again.”

“Chim. I don’t know how else to say this so I’m gonna just say it. Everything we’ve done is because of you. You drive us forward, you dream for us. That’s a huge responsibility, and a huge burden. And it’s so much pressure, so like— maybe you think you can’t love Jungkook, or you don’t have time for things that everyone else gets to do. But you should do it. You really should do it if you get the chance, if you really met someone who’s actually ready to stand beside you, who’s ready to love you the way you deserve.”

“Tae.” Jimin whispers it into the small warm space between them, because his throat is too thick with tears to speak any louder. 

“I want that for you more than anything, Chim. I think it’s going to be epic. Imagine the songs people will write about you.”

Jimin’s face splits into a tremulous smile. “Shut up.” His voice is too fond for it to have any heat.

“No, you shut up. Come here and cuddle me, it’s cold. Too cold to sleep out here.”

“Mm. I’ll keep you warm.” 

Jimin wraps himself around his soulmate like a starfish, and together, holding on to each other, they slowly grow warm enough to fall asleep.

✧

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there— ah, he’s in there really deep, what should I do—”

Baby Blue gurgles encouragingly at him and stamps one of her squishy little feet next to his nose. Jungkook is stretched out flat on his front, body half underneath a produce wagon, arm extended toward a little black fox with glowing eyes, which is crouched all the way at the back against the wall, making a sad whining sound.

“Hey. I can’t believe I have to say this again, but you can’t be UNDER THERE. Buy something or get out, kid.” The owner of the wagon is kind of pissed off at Jungkook. From this vantage, Jungkook can only see her feet standing next to the wagon.

“I’m not a kid. And I’m here on official business. Animal rescue business.” It comes out kind of muffled from the way Jungkook’s face is squished against the ground. He’s not sure how convincing it is.

He stretches just a little more, every muscle in his arm straining, and nudges the small spiky pink fruit in his hand toward the scared fox’s feet.

Baby Blue swivels her head and looks at him in a way Jungkook can’t help but interpret as incredulous. Jungkook lets out a tiny sigh. “Trust me, foxes love these.”

They’re interrupted by a sharp little cracking sound. Jungkook looks back at the fox to see that the little creature’s jaw has opened impossibly wide like a crocodile’s, displaying rows of tiny pointed teeth, and is chewing unconcernedly on the little fruit, biting right through the hard outer skin to get at the tart juicy center.

“See? I told you.” Jungkook makes a soft clicking sound with his mouth. The fox’s glowing gaze snaps up to his face as it runs a long pink tongue slowly along its unusually wide jaws. Jungkook is reminded for a moment that he’s lying here pretty much defenseless, unable to quickly move out from under the cart if something goes wrong.

He pushes that fear aside and makes a little humming sound, and wiggles his fingers at the fox in a beckoning motion. “Here, sweetie. Wanna come with me?”

The fox stares at them, frozen, one paw lifted. Baby Blue makes a tiny snorting sound that reminds Jungkook of Honey, and also of something like a very small bull. 

The fox trots lightly toward them underneath the cart, veers past Jungkook, and goes all the way out to the road, where it sits neatly on its haunches and wraps its big fluffy tail around its spindly legs, as though waiting for Jungkook to come out. 

“Ok. Ok, cool.” Jungkook awkwardly shuffles backwards out from under the cart and stands up to dust himself off. He registers with a weird feeling in his stomach that a small crowd of people has gathered while he was under there. 

“Um, can I have a bag of these, please?” Jungkook points out the spiky pink fruits. “Thanks.” 

The fruit cart owner stares at him blankly for just long enough that Jungkook starts to sweat, and then she grabs a bag, still making disgruntled eye contact the entire time, and quickly fills it with the fruit.

Jungkook moves on quickly and calmly, bag of fruit slung over one shoulder, a big sloshing carton of pond water hanging from his other shoulder, which he brought along in case Baby Blue, perched on top of his shoulder, needed it. She hasn’t needed it so far. Jungkook hasn’t totally figured out her biology yet. 

The fox trots along next to him, silent and dark as a little shadow except for the blue-green glow of its eyes. 

As they go along the street, the curious looks of passersby burning into Jungkook’s back, a little purple butterfly pops suddenly into midair next to him, flutters along for a few paces, and then disappears again in a puff of sparks.

It’s been following him since he left the rescue, appearing intermittently throughout the day. Jungkook lets out a little sigh and just keeps walking. 

He hopes the animals aren’t giving Yoongi and Jin too much grief. Jin came immediately when Yoongi went to get him this morning, which Jungkook thought was pretty telling, despite the fact that both Yoongi and Jin spent the morning complaining about Jin’s need to stay at the rescue for a few days.

Jin had insisted on packing an enormous lunchbox for Jungkook stuffed full of enough food for several meals, all while Yoongi groused in the background that he was perfectly capable of feeding Jungkook himself. Jungkook knows a lot of people would find this patronizing, that in fact the Jungkook of a few weeks ago probably would have been annoyed by it, but right now he finds it hard to be bothered. He chooses to see it as cute. He likes that they’re doing their flawed, sincere best to look out for him.

He really hopes they’re doing ok back at the rescue without him. But he has faith in his hyungs. 

As the morning stretches toward midday, the streets are getting more crowded. All Jungkook knows is that he’s in the right district, by the river. Other than that, he’s unsure where to look. He probably can’t just start asking random people on the street where to find the Kitty Gang.

He’s starting to wonder if he should look for a quiet place to hang out that will allow animals while he figures out a plan, when he walks past a narrow alleyway strung with laundry that makes him pause. 

The alley is narrow, but the angle of it in relation to the hill it’s on makes the sky glow big and bright between the buildings, the laundry flapping in the breeze looking like wayward sails on a blue sea. Jungkook can hear the soft calls of mourning doves high up in the eaves of the buildings.

He shrugs and starts to walk down the alley. The little fox trots along with him.

He wanders aimlessly for a few minutes, softly singing back to the doves in the eaves, when he catches a whiff of something delicious. 

He’s walking past the back of a building with steam pouring out of its vent, probably a restaurant by the delicious smell, when Baby Blue suddenly stamps on his shoulder.

“What? Are you hungry?”

She snorts and stamps her foot again. The little fox stops walking, sits, and peers up at her eerily, as though waiting for instructions.

“We’re stopping?”

They’re next to the building with the good smell, beside a tiny dead-end alley, dark and nondescript. There’s only one door. It’s clearly not the entrance to the restaurant, which must be on another side of the building.

Baby Blue huffs again and swings her tail in the direction of the door.

“In there? Really?”

Baby Blue cranes her head down to look at the fox. They just stare at each other for a long moment, big black button eyes into glowing blue ones.

The fox gets up, walks to the door, and scrapes on it with a paw. 

“Ok. I get it.”

Jungkook sighs to himself for possibly the hundredth time that day, and opens a random door leading into the back of a random restaurant because his magic salamander and her magic fox friend asked him to.

He’s hit with a blast of delicious steamy air. He’s only taken a few steps down the narrow tiled hall into the restaurant when Baby Blue nips the lobe of his ear with sharp little teeth.

“Hey!” Jungkook stops short and turns to see the little fox a few steps behind him, one paw resting on the bottom stair of a small spiral staircase.

“Oh, really? Ok. You sure about this, Baby?”

Baby lets out a prolonged huff, as though she can’t believe Jungkook is asking her something like that. 

“Ok, I hear you. No more biting though.”

Jungkook follows the little fox without question, up two full floors, and then after another pause for Baby Blue and the little fox to communicate, through an unexpected hole in the wall into a disused section of the building. Jungkook can barely see the little fox ahead of him in the dark.

Next, they have to squeeze through a weird hallway so narrow that Jungkook’s shoulders don’t fit, so he has to kind of turn and walk sideways. 

When the hallway ends at a simple wooden ladder leaned against the wall, leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling, Jungkook awkwardly leans down sideways to pick up the little fox, which tucks itself into his chest with surprising docility, while he climbs up to the door.

He’s just reaching up to push the door open when he hears a sound he’d know anywhere, a sound that feels like it’s squeezing his heart in his chest.

Somewhere on the other side of that door, Jimin is laughing. 

Jungkook pushes open the trapdoor with a loud squeak of hinges and steps up into a cramped little room. There’s a huge disorganized pile of boots of all sizes in the corner, a little bench against the wall hand-painted in a rainbow of colors, and a big overgrown hanging fern draped halfway across the floor. 

The trapdoor has barely thumped shut below him when a tall, delicately featured man with soft blue hair comes skidding around the corner gripping a shockingly long knife.

When he sees Jungkook, he stops and stares at him, comically frozen with the giant knife brandished in between them.

Jungkook takes in his appearance and it clicks. “Oh. Taehyung? Is Jimin here?”

Still keeping his wide eyes on Jungkook, Taehyung yells over his shoulder. “Chim? Not a crisis, but can you come in here?”

This is when a bunch of children start spilling into the room, all of them yelling at once. From what Jungkook can make out, they’re arguing about who was supposed to get the last pancake, and the smallest child seems to have stuffed said pancake into his mouth whole while the others try to get it out.

Jungkook is absorbed in watching them, so he doesn’t have any time to prepare before Curry comes hurtling at him like a furry comet, thumping into his chest and knocking the little fox sideways, which clacks its teeth together sharply in a way Jungkook would find threatening if he were Curry. Curry, however, is completely unconcerned by the fox’s presence. He’s making the intense, grunty little purrs that he does when he’s really feeling it, and is kneading his paws powerfully into Jungkook’s chest. 

Curry looks clean and well cared for. Something inside Jungkook settles. He cranes his neck and gives Curry a little kiss on top of his head between his ears.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” 

Now Jungkook is holding a different animal in each arm, with Baby Blue still perched on his shoulder, now gurgling happily.

Teleporting butterflies, two of them this time, pop into the air on either side of Jungkook at the same moment that three more people come into the room. Hoseok, then someone Jungkook doesn’t know, and then—

The warm feeling that came from reuniting with a safe and healthy Curry fizzles and freezes up in his chest. 

Standing there a few steps away, draped in a giant oversized shirt, soft peachy-pink hair mussed like he just got out of bed, is Jimin. The look on his face when he sees Jungkook is terrible, like someone just gave him the worst news of his life and he’s trying to pretend everything is fine instead of reacting to it. Jungkook can’t look away from him.

Into the awkward space of the small, packed entryway, filled with the sound of laughing, oblivious children, comes a loud sudden sound, like an entire flock of birds taking flight at once.

A pair of massive, feathery jet black wings have just burst out the back of Jimin’s shirt.

The children fall silent. Two of them are lying on the floor, arms locked around each other, one of them coughing weakly but looking incredibly triumphant. The rest of them are staring at Jimin in awestruck stillness, while Jimin himself stands there frozen, eyes wide, shoulders pushed up in surprise. 

Taehyung clears his throat delicately. “Absolutely no offense meant to either of you. But can one of you explain exactly what the fuck is going on?”

✧

For the first time in his life Jimin wishes he were completely invisible. 

The steadily growing wings he’s been trying to ignore for two weeks just exploded out of him, kind of painfully, in front of practically everyone he knows. Why is he like this? Why does his body always betray him like this? Why did he have to embarrass himself in front of his entire family, while Jungkook is here nonetheless? He feels like he just stepped out of the kitchen from a normal, happy family breakfast into a scene from his worst nightmare.

At least he hasn’t accidentally blown anything up or set anything on fire. Yet. That would definitely be worse. 

Instinctively, his eyes go to Taehyung, who is looking back at him calmly. He must see the desperation in Jimin’s eyes, but he doesn’t seem to have much sympathy for it. He cocks his head at Jimin, tilting the top of it toward Jungkook and making his eyes really big.

Jimin lets his eyes slide back to Jungkook. He’s the only person in the room who’s possibly more of a spectacle than Jimin right now. Honey’s smallest baby is sitting on his shoulder, one squishy paw pressed against the side of his neck, training Jimin with a look that seems deeply unimpressed, if that’s possible for a baby giant salamander. Curry is balled up against one side of Jungkook’s chest purring madly, and cradled in his other arm is a weird little fox, black as night with glowing blue eyes, which are also staring at Jimin. Pretty purple butterflies are fluttering in the air around Jungkook’s head, but he’s glaring at Jimin like he wants to fight him, so the whole enchanted animal effect is slightly off kilter. His hair is a little messy and his cheeks are pink, the way they get when he’s having a strong emotion but trying to keep himself in check.

Jimin’s heart squeezes. He missed him so much. Somehow, two weeks away from him made Jimin forget how perfect he is, and how much he just wants to be around him always, even if he’s looking at Jimin like that. Frustrated. Disappointed. Probably the way Jimin deserves to be looked at by people as kind as Jungkook. 

Jimin hates it. 

He’s not used to feeling so nervous around Jungkook. But he can’t hate that Jungkook makes him feel like this. He’s flooded with a feeling he couldn’t place at first, a feeling he’d last felt almost immediately upon leaving the rescue: He just wants to be worthy of him. He just wants to be good enough, even if he doesn’t deserve it, even if he should leave Jungkook alone. He just wants to do everything he can to make Jungkook happy.

Jimin steps forward, forgetting about his wings, one of which bumps Taehyung on the back of the head.

“Oh, shit. Sorry Tae. Hang on—” 

Expending effort in a way that feels completely alien, literally flexing muscles he’s never used before, Jimin folds his wings in close to his back, so that they tuck behind him.

He refocuses on Jungkook, now closer to him, and radiating a strong aura of something like distress, or possibly righteous anger. Jimin reaches out very slowly and buries a hand in Curry’s fur, scratching the spot behind his ears that he loves.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I was going to bring him back today. I should have been on the way already but breakfast kind of went long. There was a whole pancake competition.”

“I won!” Taehyun’s bright, happy little voice cuts in, apparently unaware of the tension in the room. Jimin gets to see up close the way Jungkook’s face softens and clears a little when he shifts focus to the kids. Jimin’s traitorous heart does something sweet and fluttery in his chest.

“That’s ok.” Belying his casual response, Jungkook’s eyes are still glued to Jimin, taking him in so intensely, like he’s memorizing every detail. 

A purple butterfly suddenly disappears from right next to him in a little puff of sparks. One of the kids whispers whoaaa at the exact same time one of the others lets out a shriek. The butterfly reappears next to Jimin, and alights gracefully on top of one folded wing. 

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he kneels down, putting himself on the same level as the kids to speak to them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring them, it’s just— they can teleport, and they keep following me. But they’re harmless.”

Kai stares at him with big eyes and nods, while Taehyun clings to his back and peers over his shoulder at Jungkook with starry eyes. 

Jungkook looks back at them attentively, checking that they’re ok, and Jimin feels something in him melt at the sight.

Curry attempts to step out of Jungkook’s arms toward the kids when he bends down, but Jungkook readjusts his hold and stands up again. His brow is slightly furrowed, and the look he turns on Jimin now is almost sad.

“Thanks for taking care of him. I appreciate it.” And Jungkook actually turns around on the spot, like he’s going to leave right then and there.

It finally hits Jimin, and he panics. 

“No! Wait.”

Jimin's hand shoots out to touch Jungkook’s arm. He can feel the muscles tensing beneath his touch, like even this is too much for Jungkook. Jimin’s throat clenches with guilt.

“Please stay. Just for a little. Did you eat yet?”

That’s how they end up resuming breakfast with Taehyung clattering around in the kitchen, Hoseok and Namjoon making forcedly cheerful, intentionally bland conversation about the prices in the local market, and Jungkook sitting on the couch, glaring around nervously, while the kids orbit him with obvious interest. Taehyun is the most blatant, sitting on the floor in front of him and leaning back against his legs while he holds Curry happily in his lap. Every few minutes he tilts his head back and peers at Jungkook upside down, flashing him a huge smile, before shyly looking back down at Curry. 

In spite of the strangeness, something settles in Jimin to see Jungkook here in his home, eating with his family. He should have made him feel welcome from the start. It’s just hard to say everything he wants to say, needs to say, when everyone is here watching them. 

Jimin tucks himself into the other side of the couch, angling his wings awkwardly over the arm so they don’t get in the way. Jungkook is aggressively chewing a giant bite of pancake, eyebrows furrowed in enjoyment. The fox has curled up and gone to sleep on the couch between them, and Honey’s baby is lying on her side next to it with her chin propped on her paws, the animals two loose crescents curved toward each other. 

“Is everything ok at the rescue? How did Curry get out?” 

Jungkook continues glaring at his pancakes. “There was a thunderstorm. His enclosure got damaged, and he got scared and bit me, and when I woke up he was gone.” He glances at Jimin, and must see something of what he’s feeling, because his face softens a little. “But it’s ok now. Jin came to help Yoongi take care of things while I’m gone, and Baby was able to tell where Curry was going.”

Jimin can’t help the little smile that steals across his face. “Baby? She doesn’t have a name yet?”

“She does. Baby Blue, because of—” Jungkook cuts himself off, cheeks pink, eyes fixed on the gentle blue glow coming from Baby Blue’s sleepy form.

Jimin tries to fight down the warm feeling that makes him want to reach out for Jungkook. “I couldn’t believe it when Curry found me. I was in the middle of a job, and he was kind of a mess. But we got out just fine, and he seems happy. The kids really love him.”

“I thought they would.” Jungkook’s voice is soft and sad, and Jimin feels the cracks shooting through his own careful facade. 

Jimin swallows and speaks quietly. “Sorry it’s so chaotic. Sometimes there are more kids here, if they need someplace to be, but— these ones are ours. They’re like me and Tae. They didn’t have family left, but now they have us.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s not chaotic. It seems really nice.” 

He knows from the way Jungkook just says things with absolutely no ulterior motive that it’s the truth, and somehow that hurts worse than if he pretended to like it in spite of being uncomfortable. Jimin closes his eyes.

They’re interrupted a few moments later by Yeonjun announcing he’s heading out to train at the theater where Hoseok works sometimes. The kids like to go there in their free time, drawn by the performers’ bright camaraderie and willingness to teach. Yeonjun’s announcement causes a flurry of chaos, all the kids chiming in because they want to go with him, tramping back and forth to hurriedly brush their teeth and get dressed. Jimin and Hoseok insist on jackets and scarves so they don’t catch cold, and the cramped little rooms of their flat fall quiet at the slam of the trapdoor behind them.

Jungkook is standing again, done eating, clearly on the verge of making a decision that Jimin has been trying to delay as long as possible, when Hoseok claps his hands and shouts at a frankly uncalled-for volume, “Ok! Kids out of the way! I think we’re all ready for this little meeting, now that our secret weapon has dropped conveniently into our laps.”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Taehyung says it like he’s only politely feigning interest. He’s stretched out on the floor, idly flipping the peacock feather for Curry, who is playing lazily while lying next to him. 

Jimin stiffens as he realizes what Hoseok is implying. “No. That’s NOT what we’re doing. Jungkook isn’t a part of this.” 

Jungkook does that little full-body jerk he does when he’s genuinely hurt and can’t hide it. Jimin can feel the situation about to slip out of control again. He’ll insist on trying to protect Jungkook from a dangerous situation he doesn’t know about and shouldn’t have to deal with, and Jungkook will get even more angry and hurt, and—

Hoseok keeps pushing. “Jimin. I know you’re having a minor crisis and also apparently turning into a bird, but you can’t deny this is pretty fucking fortuitous. Serendipitous, even. We have a magical animal problem, and the king of the magical menagerie himself just walked through our door—”

“Don’t call him that! It’s a rescue, for fuck’s sake!”

“Jimin. It’s ok. I can speak for myself.” Jungkook’s voice is quiet and self-assured, and it flips some kind of switch in Jimin. 

He lowers his head for a moment, trying to push down the fear, the aggression, the overwhelming urge to protect.

“I know you can. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook just looks at him, face blank, eyes a little pensive. Jimin can’t tell what he’s feeling, or if he might still be figuring out what to feel himself. 

Namjoon, who has been glancing back and forth between the three of them arguing with his eyebrows raised, clears his throat quietly. “Can someone tell me what we’re arguing about?”

“Oh. Sorry, Joon.” Taehyung sits up, leaning casually against the chair Namjoon is sitting in. “Ok, so, Jungkook here is going to tame our dragon for us, I think.”

This sets off another bout of everyone talking at once, except for Jungkook, who just looks confused. 

Jimin shakes his head. “Everyone shut up! Ok. One person at a time. I’m going first.”

Without thinking, he turns to face Jungkook and takes his hands, effectively creating a little bubble between them that will allow Jungkook to focus on him. Jungkook turns to look at him, his grip on Jimin’s hands hesitant. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and chews it gently, but he doesn’t look away.

“Jungkook. I’m sorry to spring this on you, but let me explain, ok?” He waits for Jungkook’s firm little nod, giving him permission before he keeps talking. 

“I was in White Swallow’s dungeons yesterday, investigating. When we aim to take down operations like his, we do recon first, so we know where to hit to get all the kids out. We found the right spot to break in, but he has animals held captive down there too. Big ones. Dangerous ones. And I’m pretty sure one of them is a dragon.”

He waits, breathing, letting it sink in. Jungkook’s brow contracts sharply, lips pushing into a furious little pout. Jimin kind of loves that face when he’s not the source of its displeasure. “Do you have any ideas for how we can get it out unharmed, without it hurting anyone? It’s underground, in a big cell. That’s our biggest obstacle to getting the kids out safely right now.”

Jungkook looks from Jimin to the others in the room, like he’s studying each of their expressions. His hands slip lightly from Jimin’s, and when he answers he addresses all of them. His voice sounds clear and confident, the way it always does when he talks about animals.

“It depends on the environment, how it's been treated. And what kind of dragon it is. Did anyone get a good look at it?”

Hoseok glances at Taehyung. “There are different kinds of dragons?”

Jimin cuts in. “I’m the only one that saw it. It was dark but I could just make it out. It was kind of glinting in the dark, like— sparkling? And it was so loud the ground was shaking. I thought my ears were gonna shatter.”

Jungkook’s expression sharpens, and Jimin gets a little thrill before he even starts to speak again. “That sounds like an earth dragon. They’d be hiding it in the dark to keep it weak.”

“Don’t dragons live in caves?” To a casual listener, Jimin thinks it might sound like a simple curious question, but he can immediately tell from Tae’s tone that he’s after something other than the answer to his question, though Jimin isn’t sure what.

Jungkook responds in that quick, sure way he has when he knows something without having to think. “They don’t, that’s a myth. Earth dragons were driven underground to hide from humans, because they don’t fly. They need sunlight to survive, and they waste away underground without a good light source. That’s probably why it hasn’t escaped. They’ve probably had it in captivity since it was a baby, and it grew up down there in the dark.”

Jimin can hear a trace of anger in his words, and can also tell that he’s being careful to hold most of it back. He’s never seen Jungkook so subdued before, like all of his feelings are on mute. Jimin wonders if it’s his own fault, or if it’s something that happens when Jungkook is around strangers, or if it’s just the number of people here. He realizes he’s never seen Jungkook in conversation with a whole group of people like this before.

“Would that work in our favor? Will it be too weak to attack us?” Hoseok is matter of fact, focused on the goal. He’s leaning against the wall behind the table with his arms crossed, between the two tiny windows in the room.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t think so. In that situation, everyone is an enemy. For a trapped animal, it’s a matter of attack or be attacked. Anyone would be a threat.” He pauses for a moment, pursing his lips in a little frown. “Unless we make a tribute. That might be the only way to turn it from aggression. Attacking it won’t work, and any weapons will immediately mark our intentions as hostile. Unworthy of trust.”

Jimin feels those words cut clean through his heart. Nobody else seems to notice.

Hoseok shrugs indifferently. “Well, we have to have weapons.”

Jungkook looks steadily at Hoseok and shakes his head. “Then it will never work. Besides, aren’t you and Jimin dangerous enough without them?” 

Jimin can’t suppress the little thrill of pride that goes through him at that. He turns to Hoseok. “I told you, hyung, we don’t need to fight if we can get out quick. Especially if we blow a hole in the place—”

Taehyung cuts off the impending argument with another innocent-seeming question. “You said a tribute? Like gold and jewels or something?” He’s sitting a little straighter, like he’s getting invested.

“Ah, sort of? You can bring that stuff if you’re rich and you’re trying to bribe them. But the best tribute you can make is always to offer yourself.” Jungkook tilts his head and considers. “Besides, we don’t know this dragon’s taste. We’d need to know what kind of jewels they like and stuff, otherwise whatever we’d bring might displease it. It’s a whole thing.”

There’s a moment where everyone just stares at Jungkook blankly.

Jimin takes a breath. “Jungkook, when you say offer yourself—”

Taehyung blurts, “Are you gonna let it EAT YOU?”

Hoseok gives a nervous little laugh. Jungkook continues to humor Tae like he’s a precocious child. “Oh! No, it just means you promise to always defend them. Undying devotion, like a knight or whatever. But that’s ok, as long as you mean it it’s supposed to work. I can always make the rescue bigger.”

The group is struck into silence. Namjoon’s jaw drops. Taehyung looks ridiculously impressed. Hoseok lets out another laugh and looks around, like he’s waiting for someone to share the joke with him.

Jimin feels a familiar warm ache, something sweeter than longing. This is already a done deal for Jungkook. He’s already adopted this gigantic earth dragon, sight unseen, based on a few words from Jimin.

He speaks up, breaking the tension decisively. “Ok. It sounds like we have a plan.” The look Hoseok turns on him is priceless, and would be funny if Jimin wasn’t well aware it means he’s about to argue. “No weapons,” Jimin continues before Hoseok can disagree. “And Jungkook will handle the animals, starting with the dragon.” 

Jimin turns to Jungkook. “We usually stage our operations at night. It’s more discreet. But it sounds like the more light we can have, the better. Is that right?”

Jungkook turns to look at him, and Jimin feels like everything slows down and stops, time freezing just for him. Jungkook’s eyes are shining, and Jimin remembers what it was like for Jungkook to look at him like that every day, with such unending patience and kindness. He hates that he took it for granted, that he could ever have believed that’s how Jungkook is with everyone.

The words undying devotion echo through his head, and he can’t help the warm shivery feeling they give him. A little bit of fear, and a little bit of something else, still sweeter than longing, and infinitely gentler.

Jungkook’s soft sure voice interrupts his reverie. “Yeah. In the absence of sunlight, the more light we can bring, the better.” He keeps gazing at Jimin for a moment more, stars in his eyes, and then slowly tears himself away, directing his words out to the others. “Making a big hole isn’t a bad idea. The sooner we can get the dragon out, the faster it will start to recover.” 

Jimin can’t help the smile spreading across his face. “A daring daytime rescue, then.”

Jungkook starts to smile back at him, and Jimin feels like his heart is growing ten sizes in his chest.

“Oh, well if Jungkook says we should blow things up.” Hoseok sounds exasperated, but with an edge of resignation that says he knows he’s outnumbered. 

Taehyung jumps up in excitement. “Bombs! Time to build bombs!”

Namjoon stands up, eyes wide, hands out quellingly. “Wait, wait, please don’t say stuff like that in front of me. A hypothetical discussion of how to rescue a dragon is one thing, but—”

Taehyung just laughs and grabs Namjoon’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Relax, you’re gonna help me build them!”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Ok, as the only practical member of this gang, I’m going to go source some parts for Taehyung’s hypothetical bombs. Namjoon, you’re babysitting, please hold down the fort.”

As he strides out of the room, Tae says mildly, “We’re not babies.” He turns to Namjoon. “Come on, we’ll look at the map. I’ll show you the best hypothetical location for our hypothetical explosion.” 

Namjoon allows himself to be dragged from the room, looking slightly ill, and Jimin and Jungkook are left alone with the animals. Despite the completely different setting, it feels familiar.

Finally alone with Jungkook, heart dancing with hope, Jimin has barely opened his mouth to speak before words come rushing out of Jungkook first.

“Um, do you think I could use your shower? I’m kind of a mess. I had to go under a produce cart earlier.” 

Jungkook isn’t meeting his eyes anymore, cheeks pink again, gaze somewhere around their feet. Jimin’s heart falls.

He tries not to read anything into it. Jungkook might just be overwhelmed, and need some time to himself to process. “Oh. Yeah, of course you can. It’s across the hall.”

“Thanks.” Still hiding under his eyelashes, Jungkook leaves the room, pausing only to pick up Baby Blue and let her climb slowly up his arm. Jimin watches how gentle he is with her, the way he always is with the people and animals he loves, and his heart aches.

Jungkook crosses the hall, and he doesn’t look back at Jimin before he closes the door.

✧

“Am I doing this right, Baby?” 

Jungkook stares into Baby Blue’s impassive black button eyes, a wet curl of his hair dripping into the small space between them onto the bathroom floor.

The salamander is perched on the sink. She didn’t want to go in the shower with Jungkook to soak, but she did accept some drinking water from the tap. Jungkook doesn’t understand why she doesn’t need more water than that, but he trusts her to tell him if she’s not getting something she needs.

It’s easier to focus on her needs, and on how surprisingly well Curry is getting along in this crowded household, and on the logistics of saving an earth dragon he didn’t know existed until half an hour ago, than it is to focus on what he’s actually feeling. What he’s actually doing here.

“I can’t tell if I’m messing things up. But they were already messed up. I don’t know what to do. Either way I’m not coming home today. Yoongi-hyung is going to be so pissed.”

Baby continues to stare at him and give him nothing.

“I should leave, right? No, I can’t leave. Especially not if there’s a dragon down there. There’s definitely something down there that needs help.”

He ties the towel around his waist and starts rummaging through his bag for clean clothes. 

“They can’t do it without me, right? They can’t save those children without me. They need my help.”

Baby Blue slithers down the side of the sink, climbs into Jungkook’s open backpack, and lets out a long sigh before curling up to take a nap.

Jungkook can’t help but giggle at her. “Ok. Thanks for the pep talk.”

Behind him the bathroom door opens.

Jungkook spins around, eyes wide, futilely trying to hide behind the folded clothes he’s still holding.

“Sorry.” Taehyung does not sound sorry in the slightest. He’s staring directly at Jungkook’s chest. “Nice muscles. Are you almost done in here? Some of us need to pee.” 

“Oh. Y-yeah, sorry, I’m almost done. Um.” Jungkook wonders if it would be impolite to ask why he didn’t knock, or if he’s planning to leave now so Jungkook can put clothes on.

Taehyung looks him up and down one more time, then turns around and shuts the door. Jungkook can hear the sound of his voice receding down the hall as he calls for Jimin.

He sighs and starts putting his clothes on. 

He can’t remember the last time he had to deal with this many new people at once. As much as he learned when he was there, he doesn’t miss his time working at the ranch before starting the rescue. It all comes rushing back— how stressed he always felt, and how distant from himself, and how much incredible effort it cost to always be interacting with so many people. He slips back into that version of himself easily when he needs to, but it’s more exhausting than he remembers it being.

He’s doing up the button on his pants when the bathroom door flies open again. Jungkook makes a little high-pitched sound and drops his shirt on the floor.

This time it’s Jimin.

At least Jungkook has pants on now. “I’m leaving! I’m about to leave.”

Jimin glares at him in confusion. “What do you mean, you’re about to leave! What happened to helping the dragon?”

“No! Um, I meant, I’m about to leave the bathroom, so everyone can stop opening the door every five seconds.”

Jimin’s ferocious scowl immediately softens. “Oh. Sorry. Tae told me you needed help in here.” He pauses for a second, reflecting. “Ok, I realize now how obviously made up that was. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

Jungkook can’t suppress a smile. “You thought I was in desperate need of help in the bathroom, so you ran in here to save me? ‘Jimin, help, the shower’s too hot—’”

Jimin’s mouth quirks in that way Jungkook knows means he’s trying not to laugh. “You shut up.”

“‘Oh no, Jimin, there are too many shampoo options, come help me choose—’”

Jimin starts to shriek something else at him but it’s too late, they’re both descending into laughter, the helpless kind that takes over their bodies and renders them incapable of standing upright. 

By the time Jungkook comes back to himself, he’s sitting on the bathroom floor, his back against the wall below the window, stomach sore from laughing, and Jimin is draped over his front, one hand braced against Jungkook’s chest, wiping tears from his eyes. His wings make a soft rustling sound, like he’s shaking off the after effects of laughter. When the light catches them, Jungkook can see hidden colors in them, dark green and blue and purple shimmering in the inky black.

The afternoon sun filters in golden through the window, and the potted ferns on the windowsill trail their long green fronds down to the floor, making this part of the room feel like a tiny jungle. Jungkook can feel the hanging plants tickling at his shoulders.

Jimin speaks then, voice suddenly low and velvet-soft the way it gets when he’s being gentle. “You know I don’t see you like that, right? I’m not protective of you because I think you need help. I know you’re capable on your own.”

Jungkook’s heartbeat picks up a little, and he fights not to pull away. He feels caught out, with the way Jimin so easily saw through his defenses, picking out the seed of truth hidden in the joke and gently reaching past it to reassure him.

It’s only been two weeks, but it’s like he’d already forgotten how easily Jimin could do that.

He swallows, and looks down at the chipped pink tile floor, and thinks about what to say, carefully picking apart the threads from the tangle inside him.

“Thanks for saying that.” His voice comes out a little too rough, and he clears it softly. “I guess I sort of need you to trust me all the time. And not only when it’s convenient. Not only when you already agree with me.” He can feel his face getting hot, but now he’s said it, and he has to keep going. “If you don’t— if you don’t want me in your life that’s fine, but don’t act like I can’t decide for myself. Don’t tell me it’s for my own good. Because I know what I want.”

He sucks in a slow breath, damp hair hanging around his face. He wants to look at Jimin, but he also doesn’t want to see anything like pity in his face.

He feels Jimin’s hands on the sides of his face, gentle, cupping his jaw, smoothing his thumbs across his cheeks.

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice is soft, almost a whisper. Jungkook lets his face be turned. 

Jimin’s eyes are a little wet, though he’s not crying. Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jimin this close to tears. He swallows hard, trying to push down his instinct to sympathy cry with him.

“I’m sorry. I never should have said those awful things to you. I thought I had to push you away so I wouldn’t hurt you, but I ended up hurting you anyway. It was cruel, and I regret it so much. I just—” He pauses, eyes falling, and lets his hands slide from Jungkook’s face down to his shoulders. The skin around his eyes is turning pink, like holding back tears is taking a toll. Jungkook’s chest hurts just looking at him. “I know you’re not scared of me. I get that now. I guess it’s hard for me to believe that I’m allowed to have this. To have what I want. Because I want so much.”

“When you say ‘have what you want,’ do you mean me?” Jungkook’s voice comes out strangled and small, because he can barely believe he’s saying those words aloud. 

“Jungkook.” Jimin looks wretched, eyebrows taut, lips trembling a little, like he’s so close to breaking down. Jungkook wants so badly to hold him, but he also doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes him over the edge. He lets him take a breath and pull the words out of himself.

“I didn’t wanna tell you because I thought that would make it worse. But I was wrong, because it’s so much worse to see you think that— that I don’t— Jungkook, I love you. I think you’re the best person I’ve ever met, and I love how kind you are, and how patient, and how fierce you get when you’re protecting something you care about.” He takes a slow, trembling breath, and looks back at Jungkook with a particular light in his eyes, that look Jungkook knows is the one he gets when he’s truly passionate about something. “The truth is that I didn’t want to leave. I never wanted to leave at all. I want to do this together with you, all of it. I want to help you care for the animals and for you to help with the kids. Because I know you’d be good at it. Because I’m selfish. I want everything with you, I want so much— Fuck. Sorry.” He stops and takes a shuddering breath, eyes squeezed shut, clearly trying to get himself under control.

Jungkook feels like time has stopped, like this sun-warmed moment on this tiny bathroom floor is just a dream he’s having. “Jimin.” He can feel his hands clenching uselessly into fists from how badly he wants to touch him. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, please, don’t just—”

Jimin shakes his head and lets out a sad, wet little laugh. “I thought it was obvious. Even my own body is betraying me. Look at me, I’m practically turning into an animal so you’ll want to take care of me, or something.” He covers his face and laughs at himself, and a tremble rushes through his wings, a wave of dark shimmering color that Jungkook can’t help but find beautiful. 

Jimin whispers the next part, face lowered, hands pushed into his hair, like he wishes he didn’t have to say it. “It’s just, all this shit, these unexpected changes— I always assumed my body had an expiration date. That I have to do what I can while I’m still alive, because who knows when it will all go to shit. I still don’t know if that’s true. I can’t promise anything. I fucking hate it, I wish I could control it, I wish—”

He breaks off with a gasp when Jungkook caves and reaches for him, pulling him close. He stops just short of kissing him, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath as they both struggle to keep it together.

“Hey. Please don’t say that about yourself. For what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s true. But even if it were I would still want you. I want to do everything with you, too. Jimin, I want that so much.”

So carefully, holding his breath while he does it, Jungkook runs the tips of his fingers along the edge of one of Jimin’s wings.

Jimin lets out a wounded little squeak, and his wings twitch again, a quick soft ripple running through them. 

“Pretty,” Jungkook says softly. The feathers are glossy and warm to the touch, that heat making it so clear that they’re a living part of him. 

“I don’t think it’s possible for me not to love every part of you, no matter what shape it takes.”

Jimin makes a high soft sound, almost a whimper, and he leans forward at the same time Jungkook does, connecting their mouths in a gentle, tear-salty kiss.

Jungkook is acutely aware of everywhere Jimin touches him. It feels warm and glowing, like his love is something physical soaking directly into Jungkook’s skin, slowly suffusing his entire body with love.

The last time they touched each other like this, he was so overwhelmed with the newness of it, and how fragile and unbelievable it was, like a beautiful dream. But this time, he feels so close to Jimin, so connected, like there’s nothing left standing between them. He can feel the difference, that their trust is real and powerful, not something illusory that might evaporate in the light of day, but something that shines bright with its own fire, something that won’t be easily broken.

Jungkook’s hands are tangled in Jimin’s hair, his head thrown back against the wall while Jimin kisses slowly and tenderly down his neck, when the bathroom door opens again.

It’s Taehyung again, who very politely yet firmly kicks them out of the room, despite Jimin’s insistence that it was his fault in the first place for sending Jimin there under false pretenses while Jungkook wasn’t wearing a shirt, which according to him, was always going to have the same outcome no matter what the other variables were.

Jungkook is a little bit embarrassed, but he’s also too happy to care that much, and he can tell by the sly way Taehyung winks at him as he finally puts his shirt on and leaves the bathroom that he’s not really that upset about it either.

✧

The few days of preparation for the rescue mission blur by in a strange haze of intense trepidation highlighted with moments of glowing happiness. 

Jungkook sends a letter to Yoongi, and he and Jimin also make time to go back to the rescue for a day to make sure everything is going well. Curry goes with them, but can’t bear to be parted from them when it’s time to go back to the city, so he travels back with them too.

Jungkook is starting to understand what their life will look like together, how the people and causes they’re devoted to only multiply the love and fulfillment in their lives. 

The best part of his day is waking up in bed next to Jimin, and burrowing happily into his side to cuddle him, if he wasn’t already cuddling him in his sleep. 

He gets to know the kids that live with them individually, their personalities and quirks, their likes and dislikes. The little black fox, which Jimin has decided to call Suga for reasons Jungkook doesn’t fully understand, develops a penchant for following the kids around and keeping an eye out for them. Their lives interweave faster than Jungkook would have thought. He quickly learns that despite surface differences, he and Taehyung have a surprisingly similar sense of humor, and that Hoseok is a patient and wonderful teacher, who always knows when to push and when to be gentle. Jungkook thinks he might have influenced Jimin a lot.

The days speed by, and Jungkook is as ready as he thinks he’ll ever be to attempt to bind himself to a dragon he’s never seen. The success of the entire venture depends on a successful bond, as Hoseok helpfully points out every chance he gets. So there’s pressure, but it doesn’t bother Jungkook as much as it probably should. He feels certain, in that way he always gets when it comes to a few things— so far, mainly animals and Jimin— he feels like he’s prepared all he can, and that he’ll know what to do when the time comes, that he’ll be able to do whatever he has to when the time comes.

Unlike the Kitty Gang’s usual mode of operation, they begin the break-in right before sunrise. As they slip through the silent streets by moonlight, it feels more like a dream than the bright, crowded rooms of the flat they just left behind.

The storehouse is quiet and still, cleared of anything that could get in the way later. They already made sure of that.

Jungkook runs through everything in his mind for the thousandth time, going down the list of where everyone will be and what they’ll be doing. It comforts him.

Namjoon is staying back at the Kitty Gang’s place with the kids and Curry, because he’s technically an officer of the law and shouldn’t be caught blowing things up, even if it’s for a good cause (though he did tip off a group of his officers sympathetic to their cause, who will show up soon to provide backup). Jin and Yoongi are safely back at the rescue, taking care of the animals until Jungkook’s return, which should be later today, if everything goes well. Hoseok and Jimin are going to free the children and get them out, and deal with any guards that get in their way. Taehyung is currently setting up the strategically placed bombs that will both let the sunlight in and provide an exit for any animals not big enough to get out through the human-sized exits. Lastly, Jungkook himself. His sole job is to get the animals out. It sounds incredibly simple when he puts it that way, so he’s trying to keep that mindset.

The surreality of the contrast between Jungkook’s life before all this, peacefully tending animals at sunrise every day, with this moment, as he watches Hoseok and Taehyung carefully setting up bombs in the cool predawn light, preparing to blast a hole through the ceiling of the underground chambers below, is something he never could have imagined just three months ago.

He smiles to himself, thinking about how much his life has changed since that sweltering summer day when Jimin first showed up at the rescue. He had no idea how different everything would be in such a short time. He feels a little like this is who he was always meant to be, like the things he’d quietly given up on as beyond him are all within his abilities after all, that he can do more than he ever thought possible. Jimin helped him see that.

Jimin breaks him out of his thoughts by bumping softly against his side. He gives Jungkook his most beautiful smile, face bright, eyes curving into happy crescents. Jungkook’s heart flutters a little, which happens every time he sees that smile, no matter how many times he sees it. He smiles back, and fondly plucks a dark feather out of Jimin’s hair, where it must have landed after coming loose from one of his wings.

After the sudden change a few weeks ago, the magic in Jimin’s body seems to have stabilized, the giant pair of dark, glossy (and in Jungkook’s opinion, gorgeous) wings here to stay. Jimin hasn’t had the chance to see if he might be able to fly with them, since he’s technically still supposed to be serving his sentence, he can’t exactly go flying around where anyone could see him.

Jungkook is curious, but he knows he doesn’t need to push, that Jimin will find out in his own time if he wants to, will feel his way through it, and Jungkook will be there for him the whole way, just the way Jimin is always patient with him when he needs it.

In the shadowy bluish light just before the sun rises, he sees Taehyung give the signal that the bombs are all ready. Jungkook takes a deep breath, and tries to hang onto the simple feeling of being in his body, of feeling that he is strong and capable, that no matter what happens, he’ll know what to do.

He feels the squeeze of a warm, slightly smaller hand in his. He looks at Jimin, seeing the same feelings mirrored in his eyes, and squeezes back.

Everything moves really fast from there, so fast that it feels like Jungkook only processes a few specific moments, like their bodies are moving faster than the flow of time and whatever he uses to make memories can’t quite catch them. 

For a little while, he only has glimpses: Jimin, soft pink hair shining in the first light of morning, jumping down through the rising dust onto the pile of rubble that slopes down directly into the underground tunnel below their feet. Hoseok, moving with inhuman grace, calmly taking down three guards in quick succession as Jungkook stands back, heart in his throat, for the way to be clear to the animals. 

Everything is a blur of speed and sound and shouting. When Jungkook makes it further down the offshoot from the main tunnel, the place where Jimin originally entered during his first scouting mission, his head clears a fraction. 

There are three cavernous rooms, essentially underground cages. As soon as they got the details from Jimin, Yoongi has been working to the limits of his magic to build new enclosures on the grounds of the rescue to accommodate whatever they might find here.

Jimin told him he thought the first room was empty, but Jungkook has a feeling.

Sure enough, when he uncovers his lantern, he sees the light reflected off hundreds of bright scales, which happen to belong to a sizable flock of dragon birds, more than he has at the rescue now, all perched together at the top of the giant empty space. 

Jungkook considers. Once he gets the cell open, they’ll be able to fly out easily, but that doesn’t solve the problem of how to corral them and keep them from being kidnapped or injured on the way to the rescue. They’re the most coveted kind of animal the mages have created, for the beautiful gems that often form on their scales, and Jungkook doesn’t think they’ll be safe out in the open. He wonders if White Swallow was keeping them down here the way people keep valuables in a well-guarded safe, and feels a little sick thinking about it.

As he’s considering how to get them out, a tiny, bright purple butterfly flutters gracefully into his line of sight, wings battering gently against the front of the cage. They’ve been following Jungkook intermittently ever since he came to the city, but this is the first time he’s thought seriously about how they might possibly be helpful.

He holds up his finger experimentally, letting the tiny creature alight there. He can just make out its tiny, shining black eyes in the light of the lantern. 

“Could you try taking me to the rescue? Is that possible? I don’t know how far you can—”

Jungkook hasn’t even finished speaking before the darkness surrounding him blinks out and he finds himself standing next to the pond at the center of the rescue, sparkling in the sunrise. 

“Huh. I never thought of that. Oh, you’re tired now. That was a long way, wasn’t it?”

The little creature is leaning sideways against Jungkook’s finger, blinking up at him, wings moving feebly in apparent exhaustion.

“Ok. You should rest. Let’s get some others to help?”

The first cage is sorted out faster than Jungkook expected, and once there’s a steady stream of purple butterflies fluttering around in the dragon birds’ cage and ferrying them straight to the rescue, he switches focus to whatever’s in the second cage. 

From the sound of its breathing, it’s substantially bigger than the dragon birds. 

When he cautiously holds up the lantern, the creature shies away from the light, huddling in the back corner of its cell and whining fearfully.

It’s a minute later, when Jungkook is in the middle of its cage, speaking softly to it and trying to coax it to sniff him, when Taehyung scares the shit out of them both by speaking at a normal volume from the door to the cell.

“What is that? A tiger? A bear?”

Jungkook tilts his head and thinks about it. The creature is big, fuzzy, and soft-shaped, with cute little round ears and a longish snout, sort of like a bear. It also has dramatic gold and black stripes, big bright eyes, cat-like fangs, and a long slender tail, sort of like a tiger.

“It’s, um, maybe a mix of both? It looks like a mix of both. I’ve heard that things sometimes turn out really unexpectedly when mages try to create impossible cross breeds like this. They probably thought it would be super ferocious, but it just seems really shy and sweet.” Jungkook turns back to coo at the large, furry, frightened creature shaking in the corner, now with its paws pressed over its eyes. “You hear that, sweetheart? I bet you’re going to love it at the rescue. Lots of room to run around, and so many flowers…” The tiger-bear squeaks hopefully and uncovers one eye.

“Anyway.” Taehyung talks over him with complete unconcern. “We hit a little snag. The escape routes are narrow. Can only fit so many people at a time. We’re not moving fast enough, there are too many fucking guards, which we can deal with, but the mages will be here soon. Any chance you can get the dragon going now?”

“Get it going? Yeah, I guess so— ok, hang on, I think I know what to do with Tiger-Bear, let me get a butterfly in here. Oh, by the way, I found out the butterflies can teleport you, if they land on you and you tell them where you want to go, as long as it’s someplace they’ve already been. In case that comes in useful.”

Jungkook goes to exit the cell, and bumps into Taehyung, who stands there staring at him instead of moving. “In case it comes in useful, he says. Great. How many butterflies do we have? Have they all been to our house? The butterflies have been conscripted into child rescue duty, can you tell them?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, they can totally do that.”

Getting the butterflies ready to help save the children is another quick flurry of actions that don’t quite register in Jungkook’s brain, but Taehyung seems pleased with the results, so he thinks it’s going well. 

Taehyung disappears again, back to the raucous fighting in the main tunnel, and Jungkook is alone outside the third cage.

Alone except for Tiger-Bear, who is hiding nervously behind him despite being approximately twice his size. Jungkook couldn’t convince him to go directly to the rescue. He seems to have imprinted on Jungkook, and to not want to leave his side, which is honestly a pretty common experience for Jungkook when it comes to animals.

He approaches the cage confidently, stepping through the wide-set bars of the cage like he has nothing to fear. He knows if it’s really an earth dragon and he doesn’t do this, if he just stands outside staring at it and drawing attention, it will already be against his favor. He just has to hope he’s right about what it is.

When he steps into the cell, Tiger-Bear makes a confused snuffling sound and huddles against the wall at the edge of the opening, apparently hoping to hide there. Jungkook gently scratches the soft fur on top of his head, eliciting a confused growl-purr sound. He hopes the sweet creature won’t be too frightened by the very loud noises he knows are soon to come from the cell.

Jungkook steps further into the cell, lifting the lantern, intentionally not thinking about anything other than what’s right in front of him. He’s pretty sure from Jimin’s description that he knows what he’s going to find. If he’s right—

He can see it shifting in the dark even before the light hits it. Glittering like stars in the night sky, which only intensifies as Jungkook comes closer with the lantern held high. Once he sees it in the light, his breath is taken away.

It’s glittering black, all craggy and sharp-angled like crystallized obsidian or a cracked-open geode, but living. Its body is long and serpentine, coiled in on itself, too big even for the cavernous cell. 

Jungkook thinks it’s actually a little on the small side, for a dragon. 

When it sees the light, its eyes flick open, a fiery orange-red, and square-pupiled like a goat’s. It looks interested and alive, keen, almost as though it might start speaking to Jungkook any moment.

He gets to work quickly.

In the absence of a sword to lay at its feet in a pledge of devotion, Jungkook digs into his bag, which is stuffed with fireworks. 

He lines them up neatly and kneels behind them, lighting the fuses, letting them catch. 

The dragon is making a very low bass rumble, like stones grinding slowly beneath the surface of the earth, and is slowly turning its body so that its head is directly in front of Jungkook. He reminds himself to breathe.

Keeping eye contact with the inquisitive dragon as it moves closer and closer, he bows fully to the ground, hair falling into his eyes, palms on the floor, the brilliant gold and pink and green sparks of the fireworks flying magnificently between them.

The light is nothing more than a promise, and a wild hope that the dragon will gain enough strength from it to have the will to escape, rather than doing something vengeful like crushing Jungkook where he kneels.

For a long, long, breathless moment, there is nothing but Jungkook and the dragon, the sparking and hissing of the fireworks between them. He feels like he can see an entire world, an entire galaxy, eons of time and the birth of the fiery globe of earth, in its shining red eye.

That’s when the mages show up.

They’re beset by a horrible grinding and screeching sound that turns out to be the cell door being peeled open by magic, thick metal bars bending and twisting and ripping apart to make a crude hole large enough for a dragon to squeeze through. 

Jungkook has already broken eye contact with the dragon, but it’s too late. It doesn’t matter now. Now, all he can do is try his hardest to protect it, against an enemy he has no hope of defeating. 

He clicks a few times at Tiger-Bear, who is already ahead of him, barreling fearfully away from the wall toward Jungkook. 

“Get behind me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook rises to his feet, standing between the cowering tiger-bear, and the dragon, and the entrance. 

This is it. He’s out of time. Jungkook evaluates his situation: All the fireworks have already been lit. He has a first aid kit on him, in case he needed to tend to the animals he found. He has a lantern. He has his fists.

Making his decision, Jungkook raises his fists and settles into a fighting stance. 

Two figures, hidden in loose hooded robes, swoop into the room, hands crackling with spiky white magic that looks like localized lightning. The dragon’s rumbling grows louder. The ground is shaking beneath his feet, he can feel its voice inside his body, thrumming in his chest like a drum. 

Jungkook lines up and swings his fist.

The first one drops comically fast. Jungkook actually loses a precious moment just staring down in shock. He would have thought a mage would be at least somewhat prepared to be punched.

The second mage, however, is a different story. 

Before Jungkook can get close enough to take a shot, the mage swings their arm in a complicated, showy maneuver, and spiky white lightning arcs from their body over Jungkook’s head, up toward the dragon.

Jungkook does the only thing he can, and tackles the mage.

They go down hard, rolling in a bundle of limbs. The crackling starts up again, searing sharply into Jungkook’s vision, echoing through his body like weird pins and needles of white-hot pain.

His teeth chatter together, limbs juddering like his skeleton is being shaken inside his body. Desperately, he kicks the mage away, scooting across the floor as far as he can, and rolling to his feet wearily as more mages come flitting through the entrance in their big cloaks.

“Fuck.” Jungkook sees them all spin toward the dragon at once, like marionettes attuned to the greatest source of power in the room. Panting, Jungkook runs at them blindly, with no plan other than to go down fighting.

He only makes it a few steps before his feet lift off the ground.

“Whahhh—”

He starts to ask a question that immediately answers itself, as he feels the tug of something gripping the back of his shirt and lifting him straight up into the air. He sees the mages jerk their hooded heads up to look at him as he goes. He understands that they’re not looking at him, actually, but the thing that’s currently holding him carefully in its giant jaws, which is—

Every last thought is shaken out of his head when the thing holding onto the back of his shirt abruptly flings him into the air.

He only has a brief moment of his body flying through space to consider if he should have said goodbye to Jimin, or maybe just sorry, when he lands with a thump on a high, glossy, jaggedly curved surface that he soon realizes is the back of the dragon.

The dragon just picked him up in its mouth and tossed him onto its back.

He looks down at the scene from his new, much higher vantage, feeling the deep rumbling of the dragon beneath him inside his body, not unpleasantly, but like they’re connected in some kind of giant circuit. He feels strangely content.

“Oh. It worked?” The offering actually worked. The dragon had accepted him.

Jungkook feels the strange urge to laugh, but he doesn’t, he just leans forward and hugs the hard jagged surface he’s sitting on top of, and hopes that that kind of works to communicate his feelings. The dragon’s rumbling quickens and deepens, almost sounding like a purr. 

Jungkook hears a scrabbling sound at the dragon’s side, and has a brief moment of panic before he realizes it’s Tiger-Bear, carefully scaling the dragon’s side with all four paws like it’s a cliff face, tongue poking out of his mouth. 

“Here—” Jungkook leans down to seize his front paws, accepting the happy huff of breath the creature sends directly into his face as he helps hoist him up on top of the dragon’s back. Unexpectedly, Tiger-Bear climbs directly into Jungkook’s lap, settling happily like a too-big dog that doesn’t comprehend its own size. Jungkook takes it in stride, wrapping his arms around Tiger-Bear in a comforting hug. It’s not bad, despite how heavy he is. He’s pretty soft. 

Apparently aware that its cargo has settled, the dragon begins moving, huge lizard legs the size of tree trunks stampeding forward right over the crowd of mages. 

“Whoa.” Jungkook watches them scatter or be trampled underfoot, as the dragon moves on unconcernedly, out through the opening and into the tunnel outside. 

Jungkook, arms still full of Tiger-Bear, sways his body with the movement of the dragon instinctively, like riding a horse, in order to keep his balance. It isn’t quite the same as that since the dragon is so much bigger. It’s surprisingly comfortable. 

The dragon cuts a huge swath through the fight, kicking mages aside and with its mouth plucking children gently out of harm’s way, like some kind of benign deity. 

That’s what it seems like to Jungkook, until he sees another figure, backlit against the blazing morning sun, massive feathery wings spread, a pair of small children cradled in his arms as he carries them to safety above the battling crowd below. 

It’s Jimin, glowing against the sun like a god, using his giant black wings for the first time since they grew, using them to save the imprisoned children from a terrible fate at the hands of the same mage who once held him captive.

His soft pink hair is ruffled by the breeze, a few tendrils falling gently into his eyes, the light hugging his great feathery wings and the planes of his face like a painting, when he meets eyes with Jungkook.

Jungkook feels something travel through him, strong and sure, the reason why he felt the confidence to so boldly approach the dragon he’s now riding in the first place— a rush of such intense, expansive gratitude that he gets to love Jimin, that he gets to build a life with him, that they’re going to make it. That their story is only just beginning.

✧

Jimin is exhausted, and sweaty, and dirty, and a little injured from a cowardly stab wound in the shoulder given to him by a guard with bad aim, but it doesn’t matter, because he can’t feel any of that. He’s like a machine with only one directive, and it’s protecting children and bringing them to safety.

The exits are too narrow and unsafe, bottlenecked with fighting, slowed down to a dangerous crawl. Even with help from Namjoon’s officers, they can’t get the children out fast enough or safely enough that way.

So Jimin is flying them out. 

It’s not the most efficient plan, and it makes him extremely visible, but if there’s one thing his crew and the mages have in common, it’s that everyone wants the children alive— and besides, no one thought to bring a bow and arrow to this fight. Nobody expected a man with gigantic, functional wings to show up to a gang fight.

Jimin is past the point of caring how he looks, or what anyone thinks. All that matters is the shine in the children’s eyes when they cling close to him, the way they squint and tremble in the sunlight some of them haven’t seen in months, the way they instinctively circle together above ground, closing ranks around the weaker, protecting each other.

Jimin loves them. Fiercely, unconditionally, simply, in a way where he doesn’t need to know them. He will get to know them individually, eventually, but for now he only knows that he loves them, and he will fight for them until he can’t fight anymore.

The fight is thinning out, spreading out of the room where the children were kept all throughout the tunnel, a mess of people fighting and shouting and magic sparking and children crying. 

More than half of the children are safely out. The sun has fully risen. Jimin has been carrying children out in his arms, two at a time, flying, and he is tired beyond belief. 

This is when the tide of the battle changes.

Jimin looks up from the children in his arms to see a massive, sparkling black thing, like a giant patch of the night sky made animate, striding through the midst of the battle and cutting down mages. He sees it bend its great glittering head and gently nudge a child out of the way, like a parent with a hand on their back. The gentleness reminds Jimin of someone, and that’s when he sees him.

Seated on the creature’s back, riding it through the midst of battle, is Jungkook. Jungkook, with a big furry thing in his arms that looks like an oversized teddy bear, sitting tall on the dragon’s back. Jimin can see his eyes, big and shining, even from here. He looks beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing Jimin has ever seen. 

Jungkook looks back at him then, those shining eyes drawn to his, and Jimin feels a rush of love so powerful that it’s humbling. He feels utterly obliterated by it, reduced to the purest, most unafraid version of himself in the face of someone so unquestionably bright and kind. He feels so lucky that he gets to love him.

The fight doesn’t last long after that. The mages are trampled and chased away by the same dragon they tried to imprison, a dragon grown fierce with new purpose, and the children are all brought above ground, to be safely returned home to waiting relatives, and if not, to find a new home with Jimin and the rest of the Kitty Gang.

No one is badly injured, only bruises and scrapes. Jimin hugs each of them tightly, squeezing them hard enough to feel the life in their warm bodies, and to thank the luck that hasn’t left them yet for keeping his loved ones safe.

When the earth shakes beneath the steps of the approaching dragon, and Jungkook slides off its back, Jimin is already there, flying into his arms, swallowing his giddy laughter in a kiss, both laughing into each other’s faces with the unbelievable truth of what they’ve done.

Today, none of them will be arrested. Today, the law is on their side, the tide of awareness finally turned, the battle they fought alone against forces unimaginably powerful brought at last from the shadows into the light of a clear morning, the predatory mages exposed forever for who they truly are. 

Their work is far from over, but the heaviest battle is past. The air between them is light, the sunlight welcoming them softly into a new life, one that they’ll make together. 

When they’re done embracing, Jimin falls into step next to Jungkook, swinging their joined hands between them, walking alongside his love in the shadow of the dragon that plods beside them. 

“Come on. Let’s go home.”