Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Book Two Release Date: October 2025

Which Side Are You On? 

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Setting sun cast stripes across the ornate wooden banisters and blue sprawling rugs. Dust floated through the beams to rest on aged surfaces, untouched and unbothered. That was until the cleaning staff moved in, rags gentle and loving as they caressed the lines and curves of the shelves–the swooping body of the guitar that stood in the corner or the delicate neck of a violin. Whatever they touched was wiped clean, the last run through before darkness fully settled and they were free to return home.

The house was empty, yet somehow the needle of the Victrola always managed to bounce along the worn-out grooves of a frail record, calling out with fuzzy lyrics to fill its melancholy and dreary emptiness. It creaked and wept with loneliness. Like the beams that held it up moped with curved spines and drooping frowns, for there was no one to run through its halls and serenade it with laughter. The children it devoted its life to house and nurture were gone.

The cleaning staff moved quickly, sweeping through the house without exchanging a word with each other. Everyone wanted to leave. No one wanted to bear witness to the house's inevitable tantrum, where it would implode from the force of its own misery, taking anyone left inside down with it.

Their headlights sliced through the twilight, the incoming darkness looming over them not a threat–but a promise to deliver. The last of their vehicles turned down the winding hillside and vanished onto the main road with a left-handed turn, leaving the house behind until morning. Pale yellow high beams filtering through the trees, too far away to catch the outlines of the figures that blurred through the trees in a blind terror.

Wet sneakers hit cold, damp soil, beating it to a pulp in their haste to tear across the fallen leaves and broken branches. From all sides, Y/n could barely hear the stampede of feet that followed her over the rasp of her own labored breathing, and she prayed–for the first time since her childhood she really prayed–that all of them were still running.

She whipped her head to the side as she ran, barely catching a glimpse of Taehyung keeping step with her, clothes splattered with browns and a red that made her skin crawl. That pushed her feet forward faster. She didn’t dare call out for him, or anyone for that matter.

There was no way to see who was still left without giving themselves away.

“Hide!” A voice hissed from her side, a hand encircling her wrist and yanking her behind the thick trunk of a tree.

Y/n barely held back a scream, or the proceeding sobs of relief that threatened to break through when she registered Yoongi’s face staring back at her, eyes compelling her to stay quiet. Sweat made his skin glisten and dirt stick to his skin, but his expression was riddled with barely contained fear. From her peripheral vision, she could see Taehyung mimic her actions, pressing himself flat against a neighboring tree on her left-hand side and trying to silence his own breathing.

Y/n didn’t even realize Yoongi's palm had been pressed to her lips until it slipped back down to his side, digging into his pocket to pull out their handgun, the metal shaking in his hands.

Y/n looked around him, a new wave of relief washing over her when she met Jungkook’s burning gaze from where he peaked around the tree to their right. His chest rising and falling rapidly like all of theirs was, his hunting rifle pointed towards the ground, entwined with the first webs of black smoke that started to leak from his palms and coiled around the finger lever that he pushed back to load his next shot.

She did not see anyone else.

A ragged wheezing approached from where they had just run from, staggering steps slopping against muddy earth, punctuated by beastly snarls. Y/n looked back to Taehyung who mouthed to her a phrase that filled her belly with doom.

‘Hold your breath.’

Y/n wanted to cry–her lungs burned and her body ached, her legs threatening to collapse out from beneath her at any given moment. But she did it, sucking in her last deep breath and holding it, watching Yoongi and Jungkook do the same.

The creature closed in, their steps nearly behind the tree her and Yoongi stood against. A whimper tried to crawl its way out of her throat but died on her thinly pressed lips, and as though pulled by a magnetic force, her eyes gravitated back to Jungkook. The eight-foot gap between their trees felt wider than an ocean, but his energy steadily ebbed across from it like he was standing just beside her, his voice echoing in her mind.

‘Just look at me. Don’t turn around–just keep looking at me.’

Y/n did as she was told, even as Jungkook knocked the buttplate of his rifle on his shoulder and aimed the barrel at something behind her.

‘Don’t move.’

It was painfully quiet. All of their breathing stifled by their own fists, and their pursuer’s footfalls stopped. Y/n could feel her hovering right over the edge of the tree and Yoongi stilled, knuckles white around the handle of his gun.

Feel her breath hitting the back of her neck.

Jungkook’s finger rested on the trigger, his face starting to turn red from lack of oxygen. Y/n didn’t know how much longer she could hold her own breath–a pressure starting to build in her chest that threatened to pull her under.

Jungkook pulled the trigger, and Y/n’s head vibrated from the aftershocks of the thunderous crack, air whizzing past her ears. She stood perfectly still as her vision began to blur, counting the shots as they went by.

One.

A shrill cry responded to the sound immediately, the woman behind her howling out as the first shot sliced through her flesh.

Two.

Something hot splattered across Y/n’s back, burning through her sweater and sizzling against her skin. Another growl ripped from the demon’s throat that forced Y/n to clasp her hands over her ears to keep them from bleeding.

Three.

Then there was nothing.

Chapter Text

Kitchens are a place of solace; home to connection of the deepest nature–places to create, to nourish, and to love. This one was no exception. With walls painted a pale blue, and decorated with all of the classic oceanic themed wall hangings a beach rental had to offer: white starfish models, seashells, and an abhorrent amount of kitschy signs with phrases that are meant to be inspiring, but end up coming across as borderline dubious in nature. All of which was lit up by dimmed overhead lights and thrown open windows, blasting them with fresh salty air, and the crash of distant waves pummeling down upon the sand. And to go the extra mile, Ella Fitzgerald serenaded them at a low volume while they worked, tying the dreamy atmosphere up with a silk bow.

The men moved around in a coordinated dance to her song, wielding sharp knives and sliding past each other to stir sizzling ingredients like this domesticity was second nature. Jungkook’s hair was tied back to keep any long strands from getting in between him and perfectly julienned bell-peppers, while Taehyung’s had started to grow fuller in recent weeks, the longest parts just barely curling around the cusps of his ears becoming his favorite thing to complain about–yet not long enough to have to pull back with anything other than a clip in the front if their meal was particularly messy. Right now, he was running one of his hands through it and humming along to the familiar tune, carefully observing the meat he had been cooking all morning. The recipe came straight from his uncle and he was determined to do it justice.

Everyone was anxious. The tension showed up in Taehyung’s tousled hair and Jungkook’s perfectionistic approach to sliced vegetables, a sense of needing to keep them even making his brow furrow with his unbroken concentration. Hoseok and Yoongi were dragged to the shore by Jimin, and Namjoon was getting in his much needed rest on one of the reclining porch chairs, the book he had intended to read propped open over his face to shield the sun from his eyes while he napped. Every five minutes or so, Y/n would see him jolt to life from the window, lifting the corner of the book to check and see if Jin’s car had arrived in the driveway yet while he was asleep.

So much for his rest, Y/n mused to herself, hands picking distractedly at the edge of the dining room table.

Though Y/n couldn’t be one to talk–she had barely slept since her phone call with Jin two weeks prior. He wasn’t able to come out right away, he needed to “get things in order” as he had mysteriously ended the call with, sharing that he would reach out to them at a later date with his expected arrival. Well, that notice had come in the form of a text early that mornin. And if her math was right he was set to get here any minute, joining the group of them for dinner to hopefully try and get some questions answered.

Her mothers revelations left them all confused and reeling, bouncing off one theory after the next, moving like she hadn’t given them any answers at all. Never had it crossed their minds these past nearly 6 months that she could be helping them–it was too hard to turn off the hatred they all had brewed for her so easily. Their distrust for her was held hostage in their gut, their self-preservation instincts clawing to it and refusing to let go. Because if they did let go, it meant they had to face the reality of having nothing.

Whatever Jin had to say had the power to twist their hesitation into compassion or further their disdain, and only time would tell which one would reign the champion.

Y/n’s leg bounced, watching Jungkook and Taehyung toss vegetables in spices and oils until they glistened in her peripheral vision. The only thing she could stay focused on long enough was one of the ridiculous signs strung up between the basement door and the hallway leading from the kitchen to the front door. It was the group's current favorite thing to mock: a little white ship sailing in front of a sunset that had been edited to oblivion, the entire photo looking like it had been through a printer from 2010 and got stuck there with its high saturation and blown out pixels. Below it in cursive font read “When the waves knock you down, don’t rush to get back up, but instead learn to swim towards the light~”. It made Hoseok laugh out loud when he had first noticed it. For one, it makes almost no sense; and two, he immediately interpreted it as ‘hey, when you get knocked down, don’t get up–die!’. Which has become their running joke as of late whenever any minor inconvenience occurs.

But right now, Y/n looks at it with new understanding. (Desperation does that to a person–makes them relate to cringey inspo-porn and Dolly Parton quotes–she realized with a grim shake of her head). It did sound pretty tempting to dive head first into the ocean and let the waves suffocate her so she wouldn’t have to deal with the anticipation of Jin's arrival. Most importantly, she couldn’t wait for Matilda to stop her incessant demands for him.

She wasn’t allowed in the house, but she would show her face on the stoop regularly with pounding fists and howling winds until Jimin would call out to her with a “He isn’t coming today!”, and only then would she stop. Maybe her impatience was infecting them all, crawling beneath their skin until it hummed in their skull like a hoard of bees, not letting them rest.

Y/n tore her eyes from the dingy boat and looked out the window towards the shore line, her eyes just barely able to make out Jimin and Hoseok’s distant figures bobbing in the gentle waves. She probably should’ve gone out with them, it would’ve helped her sooth her nervous system enough to lower her new resting heartrate.

An engine rumbled down the uneven driveway, sitting idle for a few moments before cutting out. The heads being battered by the sea moved erratically back to the shore until their bodies became visible, the group of them rushing to towel off and climb back up through the sands to the house. Namjoon’s book fell from his face and clattered to the ground, while the cutting board Jungkook was washing slipped through his fingers and clanged into the sink, eyes dark and locked on the front door.

“He’s here.”

Time was a blur after the front door opened, lost in the middle of tense greetings, metal forks scraping against glass plates, glasses chuffing wooden tables, and the words left unspoken that lingered over them in a heavy cloud. Jin was more soft spoken than what was usual for him, head tilted down towards his plate, his bangs tousled from the open windows of his drive and cheeks nipped pink from the wind. No one had the guts to say much other than the common pleasantries that come with showing someone to their room and serving them a hot meal. There was just too much to say. Too many questions to ask that she didn’t even have the words for.

Y/n made eye contact with Yoongi over a bite of a spiced blanched spinach, the stormy look in his eyes telling her that he was feeling the same way she was. The greens tasted sharp in her mouth, fresh garlic and chilli coating her tongue enough of an excuse to keep from speaking for just a few more seconds. She told herself she was savoring the flavor, though her teeth had ground the leaves to almost nothing in her mouth. She was stalling.

Jin lowered his utensils to his plate, letting his wrist wrest on the edge while he peered over at her. Knowing. Always knowing. “You can ask me whatever you’d like. I know you probably have a lot of questions.”

“How long?” Y/n blurted out, surprising herself with how quickly she had something to say. “How long did you know?”

Jin maintained their eyecontact. “Since the day she died.”

Y/n let her eyes slip closed, her fist clenched around her chopsticks until one almsot splintered. “Why didn’t you say anything? Tell anyone?”

“I did.” Jin cleared his throat and lined his utensils up neatly on the napkin next to him. “I told my parents. And your mom.” Y/n opened her eyes to look at him–really look at him–his hands shook as he folded them over one another on the table, and his lips were red and swollen from how much he chewed on the insides of them. “I actually warned them the night before that something was going to happen. And I hold so much guilt that I didn’t push harder. That I didn’t stop them from taking her out of the house that night. I didn’t know it was–”Jin bowed his head down, his hands falling into his lap. “I owe your parents. I failed my divinity. I failed my family. And now I have to pay for it. Repent.”

“What does that mean?” Y/n croaked across the table to him.

“It’s a long story…” Jin tailed off with a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well,” Yoongi stood with a grunt, leaning over the table to scoop more meat into his bowl. “We have all night. So spit.”

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“ ‘...When he had cut enough wood for the burnt offering, he set out for the place God had told him about. On the third day…”

Jin was barely listening to his grandfather’s frail voice narrate the stories which he had heard countless times by now. The whirl of the herbal concoction in his cup was more thrilling to him, his head finally tall enough to see over the lip of it from his spot at the dining room table. He still sat like he did every other evening, patient and silent while his grandfather read stories he wasn’t sure he believed.

Someone nudged his elbow, jerking him back into the present and away from the few loose tea leaves that floated in slow circles. Jin tried not to let his reaction show, casting his eyes to the side briefly to take in the emptiness to his right where his listening companion should be. If he reacted with too much enthusiasm his grandfather or his dad were sure to notice. And that would only make things worse for him.

Still Jin couldn’t help but ask himself who it was even if he knew he shouldn’t. The answer came before he could stop it, even just the mere thought of asking was enough to call upon the answer.

Seonggi Kim.

No one said the name, nor did he see his face or hear his voice. Just the voice in his head answering almost immediately to his request.

That’s how his brain worked. He would ask, and something would answer. His family called it divine intervention, while he thought of it more as a nuisance. It was strange the way his grandfather venerated the gift as just that–a gift–while also somehow speaking with a tone of condemnation when he would mention it. An honor and a burden. A curse and a blessing.

God’s cruelest contradiction.

Nothing felt right unless they said it was right. If he used it, it was worthy of repenting for doing something so vile in the eyes of god–but if he didn’t, it was a waste of his gift. The rules were arbitrary, muddled by convoluted scripture and greed. What Jin was grasping was that if it was what they wanted him to use it for, it was good. If he used it on his own, it was a sin.

The first member of his family to have it was someone of the first and second generation. The first member of the Kim family born on US soil. The matriarch of the house at the time, Johanna, was such a devoted christian that she convinced them that it must be a sign from god that he was ready for them to convert to his teachings. That God had chosen them.

Jin bit his lip to keep his sigh from being audible.

Whether his family had chosen to convert themselves of their own accord, or because it was the safe choice when pressured to conform in a foreign environment–he hated it either way. Every night when he would be tucked into bed he’d hear those words: ‘God chose you,’ whispered down to him as their goodnight. Never what he wanted to hear.

Prophet was the name they were each given. Serving alongside the Wörners and offering them their aid as an advisor that never failed to make the right calls. They would ask, and god would answer (or so they say). It was job security at its finest.

There were rules that prevented them from becoming too powerful. For one, they were never allowed to use their powers for personal gain or meddling. It was sinful, greedy. selfish–work was the only place it was allowed. His only teachings on how to manage the gift was on how to control it from running wild in his mind. It was something he struggled with controlling. He’d find himself asking questions in his mind before he could stop himself, and the guilt would eat him alive each time he did.

The second rule was the most important: Never use it on the Wörners unless it is business related. Helping them or others by stepping over God's plan for them was wrong.

Jin presumed it was a self preservation method more than anything. If Johanna and the others thereafter had thought of it as a threat or something devilish then his family would have never made it past the first generation. They would have been exiled. It’s funny how they speak of the devil like he is the greatest of all evils, but his face is ever changing, and his personhood shifts to fit whatever narrative they want it to. The only reason Jin isn’t seen as the devil himself is because he is useful.

Don’t use his gifts or use them. Both were wrong depending who was judging him that day.

Jin let his thoughts wander to his friends, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the ornate table cloth and his gaze honed back in on the tea leaves. None of them looked at him like that. He wondered how cold they were, or how many snowmen they had managed to build by now without him. He wondered if Jimin was doing alright on his own…

He is at the library. Reading. This was a guess at best since he hadn’t formerly asked, but the overwhelming feeling in his belly told him he was right. Thsi was different than the straight forward repsonses. If he thought about it intently, he could almost say they are two seperate entities inside of him, both with different preferred methods of communication. Nausea burned at the back of his throat at the thought–perhaps half of him was the devil.

Jin’s nose twitched. A give away to his discomfort and his preoccupation of the mind.

“Are you paying attention?”

Jin’s head snapped up to his grandfather and father looking at him expectantly, tripping over his own tongue in haste to answer their question. “Y-yes I am, sir.” He hastily brought his cup to his lips to hide behind the tea that had long lost its steam.

His grandfather clicked his tongue in blatant disappointment and continued on despite the obvious cover up. “ ‘Abraham looked up and there in a thicket he saw a ram caught by its horns. He went over and took the ram…’ ”

Jin let his guard fall once his grandfather sunk back into his previous rhythm. His eyes began to drift out to the yard, watching the other children leave deep footprints in the snow covered grounds in a snowman centered mission he so desperately wished he could be a part of. Not sitting with his eyes drooping and lips chapped from the dry heat that rumbled from the radiators like a steady baseline to his grandfather’s reading.

He didn’t quite get the chance to join them that afternoon, though he took extra care to help Hoseok’s mother Misuk prepare hot chocolate for them when they lumbered in with frost kissed noses and snow dusted lashes. Their bones were stiff from the cold, the bunch of them headed off with creaking joints to hot showers and warm pajamas. Jin counted their heads as they passed, smiling to some and wrestling soaked hats from others. He organized their shoes from oldest to youngest, and laid their scarves and knitted hats on the radiators to dry, lining them up one by one next to one another. He pinched the edge of a green one between his fingertips, rolling the wool over itself just to feel it. It was heavier than the others, drenched from melted ice and cold sweat. It belonged to Y/n.

He knew he shouldn’t. Jin knew that asking for the sake of her wellbeing was forbidden–it was personal matters. His eyes bore holes into the woven wool, the weight of it in his hands pulling him downwards. Casting a nervous glance over both shoulders, he looked back down to it and asked the question in his mind.

‘Is Y/n going to get sick?’

Jin felt his stomach churn.

Yes.

Shame washed over him as well as worry, prickling his skin and twisting his stomach like it would wring out the tea he had sipped all afternoon. This was forbidden.

“Jin?”

The boy whipped around, startled by the high pitched inquiry, his heart slowing down only a little at the sight of the little girl before him.

“What’s up Til? Do you need something?” Jin did a quick scan of Madilta, still swallowed in her thick pink snow suit that was so dense it pushed at her cheeks up until they puffed, making her resemble one of the marshmallows Jin had poured into a shared dish more than human.

“I need help. I can’t get it.” Jin watched her little hands still coccooned in knitted mittens fiddle with her zipper that had gotten stuck a quarter of the way down, a pout making her bottom lip jut out.

He skipped over and reaching out to gingerly take the zipper in his hands, shimmied it until it unclipped from the first layer of waffle pajamas underneath. He held her hands as she stepped out of the sodden suit, and helped her tug off the mittens and line them up on the radiator next to the others.

“There you go.” He gave you a pick pat on the head, and a warm smile. “Go head upstairs. They are probably waiting for you.”

Matilda opened her mouth to complain, but it was swiftly cut short by Y/n’s voice calling for her at the landing.

“Come on Gänse, You should go first. And I’m waiitttinggg~” Y/n dramatically flopped over the railing for extra emphasis.

“Why should I go first?” Matilda huffed, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Because you’re littler. That’s the rules.” Y/n shrugged. “Shouldn’t have been born after me if you didn’t want to take showers first.”

“Well whoever gets out first, gets their hot chocolate first.” Misuk stuck her head out from the kitchen door, narrowing her eyes at the two young girls. “Up. Both of you.”

There was a split second where Y/n and Matilda stared at each other while processing what Misuk had said. And then they were off–running full speed up the stairs and down the hall, bickering and shoving at each other as they raced to reach their shared bathroom first. From a distance away he could hear their eldest sister, Amelia chastising them for running, and Hoseok egging them on like he usually did.

Misuk pursed her lips, restraining herself from giving them a light scolding of their own for running. Instead she turned to Jin, gesturing to him with her chin. “Since you’re the only one down here, you can make first requests for dinner. Any ideas?”

Through the kitchen door he could hear Mariah and Yoongi’s mother Hye-won laughing and clanging cookware out of the cabinets. He cast one last long, nervous glance back at Y/n’s hat, remembering what his gut had told him. Jin shifted under Misuk’s expectant stare, looking up at her through his bangs with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Stew maybe? Something really warm…” He paused, vaguely remembering something his mother had said about vegetables keeping you healthy and strong, making sure to add "Something hot with lots and lots of vegetables!”

Misuk’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her hairline. “‘Lots and lots of vegetables’? My, what your mother would probably give to hear you say that.”

Jin flushed, and gave his best convincing shrug. “It just sounds…good.”

“If you say so~” Misuk disappeared into the kitchen once more where he could hear the faint conversation of her sharing what Jin had said, earning her a chorus of chuckles and half-hearted jokes from the other women.

But Jin felt no joy in what he had done.

In his pockets his fists were clenched, keeping the guilt he felt locked in his palm to worry over later. He would have to keep there until he prayed over his bed–for when he begged God to forgive him for what he had done. He could afford to ask for forgiveness later if it meant keeping Y/n warm.

_________________________________________

Jin sat on the stairs, knees to his chest so his chin could rest comfortably on the tops of them. The rest of the children were busy building wooden cities or concocting the ‘longest railroad this house has ever seen’ (courtesy of Hoseok and Matilda); the group of them distracted and rowdy in the playroom behind him, unaware of how the world was turning upside down around them.

“Do you want to join us?” Amelia politely called down to him from the door, a board game tucked under her arm. “Yoongi and I are gonna play Candy Land!”

Yoongi popped his head out of the room to survey the area, stopping on Jin with a soft tilt of his head. “You okay?”

“No thank you–my stomach hurts. I’m just taking a break, you two go ahead. I’ll join next round.” Jin nodded to them, his hands growing sweaty against his jeans.

Yoongi looked at him blankly, not entirely buying his excuse, but still slinking back into the room with a mumbled “suit yourself”, to which Amelia followed shortly after. Jin sighed with relief at their exit, dropping his chin back onto his knees and straining his ears to listen.

“We need to take you to a doctor. This is getting entirely out of hand.” Mariah’s voice was muffled from down the hall, the office door left slightly ajar.

“A doctor isn’t going to help him, and you know it.” His own father responded instead of Anselm. “We need to act now before this gets any worse.”

Mariah scoffed. “If you have any advice to offer that doesn’t involve getting the Vatican's approval, by all means, go ahead.”

“We just need to stay diligent,” Hoseok’s father Jeonghun’s telltale cheery tone cut through with an uncomfortable laugh, sensing the rising tension. “Keep our eyes open and the children out of trouble. Nothing to be too concerned over.”

“There is nothing to be diligent over.” Mariah’s voice moved closer, the door opening a few more inches to let out more sound. “We will be taking him to get the help he needs, from a doctor–not a priest.”

“I don’t think that is the best idea,” His father tried to reason again. “We have heard of this kind of thing before. My grandfather–he wrote about-”

“They were all completely out of their minds.” Mariah cut him off sharply. “All of them. My in-laws, and yours included. They came from a different time where these things were dismissed as spiritual afflictions or moral corruptions. I have read a few of the records you had left on my desk. All it proves is a long history of unmanaged, and undocumented mental illness that was undeservingly your grandfather’s burden to bear. This ends here.”

“And my son?” Jungkook’s father interjecte, voice low and teetering on the edge of a challenge.

There was a pregnant pause, the tension rising out into the hall Jin had started to tiptoe down to listen.

“What about him?” Mariah finally spoke again, careful and slow.

Sanghun’s chair creaked as he must’ve stood. “Do you consider my son mentally ill, Miss Wörner?” Another pause, his tone bordering on dangerous. “My wife?”

“You know that is not what I said.”

Sanghun chuckled, though the action was void of any humor. “You can’t cherry pick. You should know by now that there are things that happen here that are anything but normal. That are not caused by any mental illness.”

“Jungkook is differ-”

“And what of mine?” Hye-won Min was next.

Jin’s father didn’t speak. He didn’t defend himself or Jin in front of the room. Jin couldn’t be sure if the rest of them even knew about them–but he couldn’t deny the rush he felt at whatever they were insinuating about the others. Maybe he truly wasn’t alone…

Mariah audibly floundered. “That is all different. Those are controlled abilities–anomolies. This is something else entirely. You all have eyes that can see, look at him! Look at what he is becoming!”

Jin had one hand on the wall and the other pressed to his mouth to keep his breathing quiet as he inched closer to the office.

“We can all see it. But it is in our best interest in my opinion, that we turn to what the generations before us have done. Maybe Margaret left something behind in one of her journals for us to reference. What I have on my side is written like it’s in riddles.” Jin’s father sounded nervous–feeling the pressure to de-escalate the rising discontentment amongst the parents–and Jin could almost see him playing with the cuff of his button-down.

There was a lingering pause before Mariah relented. “If you think that’s what is best.”

A shuffling of movement and a few muttered goodbyes let him know it was time to flee, and Jin turned to speed back towards the stairs, sinking onto the bottom one and willing his heart to slow. The parents dispersed, some of them going back to their rooms or staying behind in the office.

Jin’s father and Jeonghun walked side by side, whispering to each other in urgent hushed tones.

“We can’t get too involved,” Yeongjin urged the latter. “We can’t. We know what that costs for us.”

Jeonghun heaved an audible sigh. “But the children–”

“They are exactly who I’m thinking about.” Yeongjin silenced him.

“If we stand to the side and do nothing then who knows what could happen to us all.”

“If we step in too far, then you know what else could happen. This is Wörner business. They made the deal–let’s not be the ones to break it.” Yeongjin finalized.

Before Jin could even realize how close their voices had gotten, the two of them rounded the corner, exposing Jin’s hiding spot to them. Jeonghun’s protests died at the hands of the beaming grin he shot down at Jin.

“Jin! How’s it going kiddo? Why aren’t you up there with the others? Is Hoseok bothering you again?”

Jin shook his head, his cheeks burning, “N-no Mr. Jung. I just have a stomachache.”

“Ahhhh that’s too bad.” Jeonghun clicked his tongue. “Do you need one of us to get you something?”

Jin shook his head again, his hair falling into his eyes. “No thank you. I’m alright.”

The rest of whatever Jeonghun had said after that fell on deaf ears, for Jin was stuck in place, eyes locked on his father's that were wide, his breath falling in inaudible short puffs from his nose as he stared down at Jin. He knew.

He always knew.

And Jin wasn’t sure what scared him more–getting in trouble for eavesdropping, or the blatant, unbridled flash of fear that came from his own father upon the realization that Jin had heard parts of their discussion. Something he had rarely ever seen on his face.

The look on his face haunted Jin. It followed him through dinner and up the wooden steps, slipping in and out of the shadows like a ghost. A similar look was taking over his own face while he brushed his teeth at the mirror in his bathroom. He could hear Jimin, Hoseok and Y/n running up and down the hallways outside his door, getting the last few bursts of energy out while G-min slowly followed after them with warm laughter and guiding hands.

He let the sounds distract him. Let them sink into his mind and bring forth fantasies of his own where he was running alongside them–his pulse pounding and his cheeks sore from smiling too much.

Jin spit his toothpaste out into the sink, watching it slink down the sides of the porcelain bowl for a few seconds, then washed it away with cold water. Washing away his fantasies with it.

With his pajamas on and his knees tucked below him, he tuned out the rest of the world and whispered into his folded hands all of the things he had done wrong that day. He begged for forgiveness, and went through his usual routine of asking God to protect his friends and his parents–naming everyone in the house one by one in fear that if he forgot one, God would forget them too.

When his parents came in to wish him goodnight, it was swift, his mother's kiss warm and inviting, but his father’s stare was distant. Like the moment he caught him was haunting him as much as it did Jin. His mother whisked herself away with a quick goodnight, slipping around to the left-hand side and into Jimin’s room to do the same.

Yeongjin lingered, fingers frozen on the lightswitch near the door, mouth pressed into a disgruntled scowl. Jin waited for the punishment that never came.

“Make sure to stay in your room during the night from now on. Even if you hear your friends going out and about. Don’t ask why.” He flicked the light off, and closed the door until there was just an inch remaining for him to whisper through. “Goodnight, Jin. Remember-god chose you, so do the right thing.”

The antique clock marked the seconds with robotic ticks, its glass face grinning down at him from above. He kept repeating what his father said, over and over again. A new pressure added to his shoulders, piled onto the many he already carried. It was almost as frightening as the fear he had let slip through earlier that day.

His father’s words meant nothing to him as the days drifted by, snow melting into the false security of spring–just a vague warning that was all bone and no meat. Jin never left his room anyway, so why would he start now? He was good. He wanted to be good.

Nights came and went, the dawn of late spring making his room warmer than usual, and he couldn’t sleep from the sticky heat. He spent the minutes musing to himself that the ticking sound the clock made could almost sound like an old man’s hearty laugh: slow and crashing out deep from his chest. He had even given him a name–Sir Kim, an old face from a time long forgotten, there to protect him in the night.

A floorboard creaked underneath an unknown weight, just outside his door.

Jin hunched up on his side, shoulders to his ears and eyes wide to take in the outline of the door through the darkness. Uneven steps scuffed the rug outside his door. Hovering. Shifting from side to side like they were uncertain.

An attempt to tug the covers up to his chin left him startled, for he found his limbs frozen and unresponsive. It suddenly felt hard to breathe, a weight pressing down on his chest while he gave each limb its own try, none of them working like they should–not even a twitch of his fingers. The only thing he could move were his eyes that darted about the room in a panic, roaming over every surface and latching onto the face of his clock for a familiar comfort.

His doorknob twisted once, then stopped suspended at an angle, like whoever was on the other side was trying not to wake him by turning it too quickly. When it heard no commotion on Jin’s side of the door, it jolted back to life–finishing its rotation until the bolt no longer held the door between him and the intruder. It opened if not but an inch, enough for one bulbous golden eye to poke through, flitting about his room until it landed on his that were wide open. They stared at each other, Jin still frozen in place and trembling with terror, and the other locked on him, drinking up every reaction from him they could with rapt interest.

Then the door swung open entirely, taking any scraps of safety he had left with it in a swinging arc. The woman before him was unkept, hair wild and bouncing down over her gaunt face that was warped with deep purples, drawing attention to her mouth that was left hanging open–vast and empty. Wet feet slapped against the wooden planks that peeked out from beneath ornate rugs as she crept closer to his bedside, standing bent over him so her earthen, rotting stench could rain down on him.

Jin gagged, unable to stop his stomach from spasming and sending the remnants of his dinner spilling down the side of his bed–but still he could not move. She bent down lower, pulling forth another wave of nausea that squeezed his digestive tract for whatever it could find left in it. Her mouth opened, gum smashing against gum in a tongueless crawl for words. One of her hands, filthy and clammy, slid over his cheek to rest on his face. And it was then words started to flow into his head like her touch had connected the two of them somehow.

“Can you help me get what I want, Prophet?” Her fingers danced across his cheekbones, lazily drawing down his chin and tapping along his skin. Her hand clasped around his jaw with crushing strength in an effort to tug him closer to her. “Together, we can do what needs to be done…”

There was a storm of hurried steps that thundered down the hall, spilling into his room with a calamitous commotion and lunging right for the woman. In a blink, the two figures were gone from his sight–having completely blipped out of existence like magicians–yet still he could feel their tumultuous collision around his room, whirling around one another in a dance of violence and fury. Seokjin was stuck still, his limbs regaining their composure but his mind still reeling from the encounter.

He wasn’t sure what he should do–find his parents, or clean himself up on his own and return to bed like nothing had happened. The indecision holding him hostage in his bed, the sharp acidic smell and swelling humiliation offering him no help with his decision. Fate seemed to take pity on him, deciding with its weighty gavel just what his sentence should be without Jin even needing to have stood up from his bed yet.

“Are you alright Jin?” Jimin’s small face poked around his doorframe, fingers curled around the wood and digging into it for security.

Jin looked at him, glassy eyed and uncertain. “I’m o-okay.”

Jimin gave him a disbelieving once over, his eyes flickering to the middle of his room and lingering there, before turning back to Jin. “I can get your mom if that’d help?”

“No–it’s okay. I can-”

Jimin had already vanished, having no interest in waiting for an answer, scuttling down the hall on nimble feet to escape down the stairs and wake his mother.

Something unseen bumped into his dresser against the back wall, sending an old picture frame and a perched stuffed bear tumbling to the ground on his rug. Jin leapt upright, hands clutching his soiled comforter as the air whooshed around him, the ghost of footsteps chasing after Jimin, leaving his room empty and void of its previously charged energy.

Jin was ready to chase after it–to stop their pursuit of his friend with unsteady legs and shaky breaths–but Jimin’s voice was already returning up the stairs, his mother following not far behind.

To his horror, as his mother rounded the door frame to press her hands to his forehead and cheeks in a frenzy, his father followed after. And hidden beneath the mask of concern and fatigue was that same streak of fear Jin had seen him wear those weeks prior. The same one that had fear of his own curling up in his belly and rendering him useless.

When their eyes met, Jin knew that he had known what had transpired. He could see it in the faint twinge of guilt in his eyes that Jin could recognize easily since he wore it so often himself. In that moment Jin felt seen by his father–like they could connect over the shame of using their gift for selfish reasons if only his father would admit to it.

And as Jin’s mother wiped his chin and cheeks with warm clothes and guided him into the bath, he watched his father through the open bathroom door perch on the cushioned chair in the corner of his room. His head was tipped down over his clenched fist and his mouth moving in swift prayer. A request for forgiveness Jin knew all too well.

_________________________________________

Summer rolled in with a rowdy temperament. Beautiful, wind-blessed days scattered in between raging thunderstorms that pushed the children into communal spaces and blanket forts. All of them strewn together by Jungkook, Jin and Yoongi, while Y/n manned the flashlight station–having made a game out of pretending to be a light merchant set on bargaining up the price higher than necessary to the poor peasants begging for entry.

Jin tuned Hoseok and Y/n’s bickering out, focusing on getting some kind of movie on the screen and clipping up the blankets where Yoongi would tell him to. His goal was to get them rounded up and in the fort as soon as possible, his nerves never having fully recovered from the incident in his room, or the dark figures he had seen moping around the corners of his vision after. More specifically, the shadows of the woman that lurked around door frames and wandered along the grass while they played.

When their heads were all locked on the TV screen, Jin would pray to himself with his eyes locked on the last spot he had seen her. And it was then that Jin noticed that Jungkook too would look in the same direction periodically, jaw set and determined as he would pluck up Hoseok’s rogue foot that had escaped the fort and toss it back in, or tuck Y/n and Matilda in with another blanket. Once, their eyes met when a flash of lightning illuminated the dark halls, outlining her figure for Jin to see. An unspoken acknowledgement of what they had both seen floated between them, and Jungkook averted his eyes back to the tent as soon as it had happened–leaving Jin to think on it alone.

If Jungkook could see her too, that meant she must have bothered him–and Jin couldn’t stand the thought.

He took his role as the oldest seriously after that, giving him a goal to focus on other than fretting over whether or not he had asked the wrong question or made a mistake under the eyes of his father and their god. His goal was simply to keep the younger ones from going through what he had–without abusing his power. It was simple in theory, but difficult in practice.

He could never ask himself how they were doing, or who was where–he almost had to shut his brain off and hope to make guesses instead of questions. Theories instead of answers.

It’s funny how the human brain can lie to itself–the amount of hoops it can conjure up to make one thing seem so different from the other with so little contrast. Jin discovered that if he conjured up a theory, his gut would still ring true, but it was less of a clear answer and more of a feeling. This, he told himself, was different from sinning. This was simply listening.

So when Mr. Wörner would come around the children, a grin just a tad too wide and his brow twitching in a manner unlike himself, Jin would listen to the voice in his gut that told him to get everyone else away from him. He wasn’t breaking any rules, and he wasn’t hurting anybody. He was listening.

This mental game was something he played rather well, even going as far as to grow almost comfortable with it. It felt safe.

Until it didn’t anymore.

The night air was warm and humid, sticking to his face like a second skin. Light refracted all around him from sparklers, firecrackers and glowsticks atop children’s heads as they whizzed by. He could distantly make out the muted argument between Matilda and Y/n–something about the boxy camcorder they tugged back and forth between them. It all happened in a blur. The argument escalated until Mrs. Wörner swooped in to cart the youngest away on one hip, her lips pressed into a thin line and the camera shoved back into Mr. Wörner’s hands.

At the same time, Jin’s hair rose to a stand, tickling his arms and sending a cool chill down his spine. He whipped his head around to look at the front porch, eyes searching for the woman he could feel but not see. It was Jungkook that gave her away, a quick flash of his eyes towards the garden before he ushered Y/n further out into the grass and clover towards Hoseok.

Through the tall stalks of gladiolus and stretched out arms of the peonies, he could see it–a dark shape crawling across the dirt before vanishing from his sight. What is she even doing here? Jin remarked to himself bitterly, kicking a stone away from his shoe and sliding a pair of glowing glasses off his nose. There goes his night of fun.

She’s coming to take her away.

Jin, having gotten so used to not asking questions, bristled at the unexpected slip up. The answer slithering up his subconscious and coiling there, a challenge to do with it what he pleased. A threat.

Jin took off across the grass, following after Mariah and bounding up the stairs–not without one last sharp look to Anselm that he returned with more bewildered than cutting. Jin ignored his confusion, and took to the stairs as swiftly as he could.

Who? He asked himself, watching as Matilda disappeared into her room with a nasally, high-pitched cry. Jin didn’t have to wait for the answer–because his gut already told him it was the same little girl that was-

Jin came to a halting stop.

Y/n.

That was not who he was expecting. His gut was telling him one thing, but the voice of ‘God’ was telling him another. It was as though he had been split down the middle, his body and his soul fighting over the right answer. Jin was at an impasse.

Mariah found him dazed in the hallway, his youthful complexion splattered with red and his breathing rapid and shallow. She whisked him down the hall, his body betraying him into an inconsolable mess of confusion and guilt all the while, and guided him to sit on the edge of his bed.

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you feeling alright?” Mariah smoothed warm palms down his clammy cheeks and brushed the bangs from his eyes.

Jin’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, cheeks stained with tears that he couldn’t control. One of them was in trouble, and he didn’t know who. Something that had never happened before–and if he asked for guidance from his father he would be punished for using his gift so flippantly. The weight of the knowledge hung down on him like a low-bearing axe against his throat. It was his job to help them–his job to protect them-

“Honey, I need you to breathe.” Mariah gripped his shoulders with a bit more fervency, shaking him just enough to force their eyes to meet. “Let’s take some deep breaths, okay? Count with me.”

She led him in a show of measured breathing and did not stop until his own had more or less evened out enough to her liking. Mariah looked like she had needed the moment just as much; tired and weary from having to wrangle so many young children on such a bustling night. Jin felt the fists of guilt curl in his stomach and punch it down towards the floor for adding onto her stress.

“That’s better,” She whispered, giving his small shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on, or do you want me to get someone else for you?”

Jin shook his head violently, spitting out a quick “No ma’am!”

Mariah looked unmoved, one of her brows rising towards the ceiling. “No you don’t want to tell me, or no to me getting your parents?”

“Please don’t tell my parents!” Jin begged, the tightness in his chest starting to return at the thought of it.

“Okay! I won’t–at least not just yet.” Mariah’s expression pinched with worry. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

Jin waged a war within himself–he needed help, he was incapable of making any moves by himself. But telling a Wörner could be just as bad as telling his own father, because it would mean he’d have to admit to breaking the biggest rule.

“I won’t be upset with you Jin,” Mariah urged, “I just want to help you.”

“Something’s wrong and I don’t know what to do!” Jin finally broke, splintered down the middle with a harrowed sob. He collapsed into her, throwing his arms around her middle and pouring himself into her shoulder.

Mariah hushed him, cradling his head to her shoulder with soothing strokes. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

“Something’s going to happen…” Jin sniffled, recalling the way his body recoiled from the fleeting dark shape, and the ominous warning that struck fear deep into his bones. “Something bad.”

Mariah stiffened. “Is this your…gift talking?”

Jin nodded helplessly into her blouse.

“Jin-” She put him at arms length and looked at him with desperation. “-what kind of bad? To the hotel, or the house?”

Jin shook his head yet again. “To one of them. To-”

“Is everything alright up here?” The floorboards groaned under Anselm’s weight, his frame taking up most of the doorway that he lingered behind.

Jin’s throat closed up against his will, his intuition telling him to run from the man before him who had been nothing but kind to him. There was something about the way he stood–uneven and leaning up against the wall near the door like his body was difficult to maneuver—but the rest of him seemed normal. Almost too normal. Too perfect. Different from the bewildered man he had just pushed passed.

It made Jin want to throw up.

Mariah seemed to sense the shift in his demeanor, casting a cautious look to Jin before standing up to greet her husband. “Everything is alright, I have it under control. He just got a little shaken up by all of the noise. We will be back down in just a moment.”

Anselm hovered still, unsatisfied by the answer. His eyes raked over the two of them–slow and deliberate in his calculations, weighing their honesty on a gold plate in his mind. The shape of his face almost morphing into someone else entirely in the trick of the light.

“If you say so.” He relented, shuffling back down the hall in an uneven gait. “Don’t be too long, the first wave of fireworks is going to start soon.”

Jin listened to his retreating steps, the beat mimicking the pace of his pulse that drummed in his ears. He turned to Mariah again, whispering to her urgently.

“Something is wrong, and I don’t know how to fix it. She is coming for one of them. I can’t tell which one.” He kept his eyes locked on his door, ears straining to hear if Anselm was returning. “My gut says one thing, but…” Jin tripped over his own words, choking on the single syllable that should be easy for him to say. “...God says another. It's n-never happened before.”

“The girls?” Mariah asked breathlessly. “Is it about the girls?”

Jin nodded solemnly in return. Mariah’s expression cracked, her spine curling downwards as she sunk to the floor before him. “I hate to ask this of you Jin, but which one?”

Jin gulped. “I don’t know.”

Mariah shifted to rest back on her heels, pursing her lips and gripping his comforter to stop her hands from shaking. “What does God say?”

Jin hesitated.

“Y/n.”

Mariah exhaled sharply, the edges of the breath singed with a withheld sob. “And what does your gut-”

“Seokjin Kim.” His father’s energy billowed into the room, hand resting on the door frame with such force Jin was worried he’d crack the wood. “That is quite enough.”

Jin’s spine straightened immediately, his head bowed and his hands curled into fists over his knees.

Mariah spoke first, rising to her feet. “Yeongjin, now isn’t the time for formalities and rules. My girls–somethign is wrong and we need to-”

“I’ve heard enough and so have you. You have enough information to act on. Do not ask my son for anything else.” Yeongjin pushed past her and pulled Jin to his feet, angling himself to separate the two of them from Mariah. “The rules are in place for a reason.”

“Mr. Kim, you know better than anyone that I do not care about rules. It doesn’t bother me if you-”

“I didn’t ask if it bothered you. And excuse me for being frank, I don’t care. This goes back a lot farther than you would even like to admit.” Yeongjin cut her off sharply. He commandeered Jin towards the door, pushing him ahead of himself and out into the hall. He spun on her, voice dangerously low in volume that he intended for Jin not to hear. But he did.

“You have been willfully ignorant of our advice for months now. Don’t start acting like we didn’t warn you. Act now, or you will regret it.” Yeongjin faltered, his voice just a hair softer. “You have to think of your children, and I have to think of mine. I hope you can understand that. The rules weren’t made for you.”

Jin’s father gripped him tightly by the arm and whisked him away down the hall and away from Mariah, down the steps and steering him into the kitchen only to spin on him, crouching down to his eye level with a fever in his eyes.

“What do you think you were doing? We explicitly told you-”

“Dad, something is going to happen to them! I can’t just-”

“Yes you can!” Yeongjin shook his shoulders so intentionally his head jerked back and forth. “We all have to. It’s the rules!”

Jin’s rage simmered into despair. He felt as though his ribs would cave in and his heart would stop at any given moment. His chin shook as he looked up to his father, eyes welling up with tears. “Rules don’t mean we let our friends die…”

Yeongjin’s face split, conflicted–like he was trying to grab for the pieces of his stern facade as they cracked and fell from his face. He squatted down lower so there was no distance between them.

“No one is going to die tonight.” He let one hand rest on Jin’s shoulder to give it a soft squeeze that was supposed to be reassuring. “God wouldn’t let that happen, okay?”

Jin pressed his lips together, brows furrowing in confusion. Jin may not enjoy the scripture readings with his grandfather and his dad, but he had heard enough to know that God had a track record of letting children die for his cause. What was wrong with those children that their deaths were okay? And what did Jin need to do to make sure Y/n or Matilda didn’t suffer the same fate? Jin didn’t understand. It was all too much.

“I want to go to bed.”

Yeongjin looked down at him, puzzled. “Already? But the fireworks haven’t started yet?”

Jin turned his head away so his father wouldn’t see his eyes that had turned hard and spiteful. “I’m tired.”

His father sighed, and stood with his hands planted on his hips. “If you say so. I will send your mother in to say goodnight.”

Jin stood there, alone in the kitchen with his mind desperately searching for any sort of memory of the stories he had read, and what he could do to secure them the mercy of ‘God’. His name left a bitter taste on Jin’s tongue.

“Jin?” His mother crept into the kitchen, hands splayed on the door frame she leant against. “Are you feeling okay? Dad said you wanted to go to bed early tonight…”

Jin didn’t answer. Instead, he padded up to where she stood and buried his face in her stomach until the ball that was lodged in his throat lessened. She walked him to bed with one of his hands held in her own, a crease in her brow signaling her subdued displeasure that Jin had grown to recognize as an indication that she was angry with his father.

She tucked him in gently, leaving the imprint of a warm kiss on his forehead as she murmured down to him. “If you change your mind, we will just be outside.”

The seconds ticked by, melting into minutes and oozing into hours that felt faraway to Jin, who had curled up under his covers to block out any and all thoughts of reality. He was stuck between the impossible–crushed between four walls that kept closing in on him in the dark of the evening. He listened, counting the heads of his friends as they returned to their beds one by one: the slow drag of Yoongi, the steady strikes of Jungkook preceded by the casual amble of Namjoon, rounded up by Jimin’s quiet shuffle into his room.

He let the clock’s hands move down another number before he peeled back his covers and swung his legs over the side of his bed. The hallway was dark and foreboding, teeming with energy that played tricks on Jin's eyes and making him see strange shapes in the shadows. He snuck across the landing, keeping close to the wall to crane his neck down towards the girl’s room–the door shut and untouched.

Jin didn’t know what he was hoping to accomplish with his adventure, but he couldn’t just go to sleep and pretend that he wasn’t being eaten alive from the inside.

“You too, huh?”

Jin spun on his heels at the intruder, gasping sharply as he did. Mariah stood behind him, swaddled in one of her robes with her arms crossed and face riddled with lines of worry.

Jin swallowed, unsure how to respond.

“I won’t tell.” Mariah whispered, stepping past him to track down the hall towards their bedroom. Her hand shook as she twisted the knob to steal a peek at the girls that were strewn haphazardly across their beds, tangled up in their sheets. Satisfied with the sight, she closed the door once more and turned to face Jin with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for what I did earlier Jin. It wasn’t fair to push you like that. You can go to bed. They are safe, the doors are locked, and I checked for any choking hazards when they were brought up for bed.”

She came to stop next to him. “I will try and check on them again later. It’s not your responsibility to look after them–it’s mine.”

Jin let her walk him back to bed even though his nerves were far from settled. He wished more than anything that Sir Kim could make his fears go away tonight with his gleaming face and unstoppable pulse.

But they didn’t.

It just became a background noise to his thoughts that leapt from one thing to the next. Did they put their shoes away properly? Did they all drink enough water? He forgot to check. Hoseok had tripped before he had come inside–had someone gotten him a band aid while he was away?

Were the shoes put away properly?

Jin was up again, taking the stairs one at a time until he reached the foyer. As opposed to his first venture where the house felt busy, the halls felt utterly empty. Quiet, like it had been seduced into a dreamless slumber that weighed down on Jin’s own eyelids.

He shook the fatigue from his eyes as he scanned the shoes lined up near the shoe bench, eyeing the color and arrangement of each of them. They were wrong, and he needed to fix it lest it make his skin crawl the rest of the night.

They needed to be in the right order. Everything needed to be right, because if it wasn’t–maybe that would be the final nail in their coffins, no pun intended. Jin had to do anything he could to make sure everything would be okay, down to the smallest detail.

He took to work immediately, sliding the shoes into a perfect line from eldest to youngest, his hands hovering over Y/n and Matilda’s sneakers. He lifted Y/n’s into his hands and prayed over them, wishing with all of his might that nothing would come to Y/n that night. He tucked them in between Jungkook’s and Matilda’s, moving to lift her little shoes in his hands before another voice stopped him.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed kiddo?”

Bile rose in Jin’s throat, coating it until it turned his mouth into a bitter wasteland. He twisted around to look at Anselm with wide, frightful eyes and the shoes clattered from his hands onto the rug.

“Y-yes sir.”

Jin couldn’t explain the fear he felt under Anselm’s watch as he swiftly nestled Matilda's shoes back next to Y/n’s. It looked like him, moved like him–but it didn’t feel like him. It felt like his shadow was going to swallow Jin whole if he stepped in it, so he maneuvered around the stretched out image of him that spilled across the carpet and nearly tripped up the stairs.

“Jin?”

Jin stopped at the landing, looking down to Anselm obediently. “Y-yes?”

Anselm looked up to him with an unreadable expression, his voice growing hoarse. “It’s not safe to leave your room at night. You could accidentally hurt yourself in the dark. Go back to bed, okay?”

Jin nodded slowly, not particularly liking the way Anselm’s glistening eyes made him feel–almost flashing at him with the color of liquid gold in the moonlight that filtered down from the windows.

“Yes sir.”

Jin sailed across his threshold, diving into his covers the moment his door was closed and locked to get away from the man that had wandered back towards the ballroom as he left. He knew he should listen–knew that the warning he had been given by not one, but two of the adults should be enough to keep him locked away in his room for all eternity.

But it wasn’t.

Not when through his light slumber, he heard the telltale playful giggle of Matilda, from down the hall, waking him instantly. He listened again for it, hearing it jingle again, followed by someone’s voice whispering back to her.

The internal battle for what he should do raged forth with unprecedented fury, until his eyes burned and his skull thrummed in beat with his quickened pulse. His father told him to leave it be, that god would protect them–the rules. Mariah had said she was watching over them.

But that wasn’t enough for his nagging mind.

Jin needed to make sure it was okay.

His palms were slick with sweat as he clenched them at his sides, walking aimlessly towards their approaching voices where they had paused at the landing. It was Anselm again.

“Mr. Wörner?” Jin tried carefully. He tried not to visibly recoil when the man hissed at him through his teeth, sounding more of an animal than a man. Bravery was hard to find, but he clung to the hope of it like a vice. “Are you…Are you two alright?”

“Oh! Of course we are! Nothing to be worried about here.” Anselm resituated himself with a laugh that hit Jin’s ears like nails on a chalkboard, giving Matilda’s hand a gentle tug. “Right, little one?”

“Yep!” Matilda’s eyes shined up at her father with mirth.

“Oh. Okay…” Jin wanted to believe it, but something nagged at him–prodding the wounds his worry had left behind until it felt suffocating. He turned to Matilda instead, looking at her earnestly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Positvalutley!” Matilda chirped, gesturing for him to turn around. “We are going to a su-”

“-She needs a drink! She had a nightmare and got thirsty. I have it covered kiddo. You head back to bed, alright?” Anselm gently shuffled Matilda further behind him out of Jin’s line of sight. The look he gave Jin was anything but friendly, and if Jin had thought he had difficulty recognizing him earlier in the evening, now it was like he was looking at a complete stranger. His voice even sounded odd to his ears, the cadence different what it was just hours before.

The urge to ask God or his intuition for his answer was nearly impossible to ignore–but he refrained. Instead, he put faith in what his own father had said and Mariah’s reassurance. He had broken the rules enough, and nothing good had come from it. He didn’t want to anger God for fear that it would make them all susceptible to his wrath. Perhaps his obedience would be their only hope to get through the night.

Anselm was her father after all, and it was probably Mariah that had sent him up to check on them in the first place.

Jin hid his inner turmoil with a nod, turning robotically back to his room with a muttered “If you say so…” He started back down the hall, calling back to them softly with well wishes before tucking himself back in bed for what he hoped would be the last time.

A noise tore him from what little sleep he had managed with a start. The sensation of fingers digging into his forearm so tightly he was sure bruises would form yanked him up into sitting position, his head spinning as blood rushed to catch up with the change. He swiveled his head this way and that but didn’t see any signs of life in his room except for the incessant ticking of his clock and his own labored breathing. His door hadn’t even been opened.

Sir Kim told him less that just minutes less than a measly half-hour had passed since he had reluctantly let his eyes close.

Jin rubbed furiously at his sore eyes, red from both how much he had cried the night before and the restless sleep he couldn’t seem to catch. He just wanted this all to go away so he could sleep.

“Help me! Hurry!”

Jin yelped, tumbling from the side of his bed at the sound of a high-pitched voice, the speaker no more than a few inches away from his ear. When his head popped up over the edge, his eyes didn’t find any child that the voice could have belonged to–but he could feel her. Her presence didn’t necessarily frighten him; on the contrary, it felt quite familiar. Its softness and innocence filled his stomach with dread.

His limbs started to tingle, all of them falling heavy and cold upon the realization that he knew exactly who this voice belonged to.

“Please Jin! I’m scared!”

He stared at the empty space where the disembodied voice seemed to come from and let the question fall audibly from his lips.

“Where is she?”

Ice wove into his veins, winding round and round his throat until it felt hard to breathe, each breath burning his lungs until he doubled over in a fit of uncontrollable coughs to fend it off. Jin was inconsolable–god and his father be damned. The answer far too dastardly to accept.

He didn’t remember how he got to Mariah’s door. Just that when she opened it he could barely speak.

“Matilda is gone! She’s–she’s-” Jin couldn’t even finish his sentence before he became a blubbering mess, clasping at her hands to bring her towards him.

“Seokjin! What are you-” Mariah didn’t bother to finish her sentence, the two of them bounding up the stairs until they were standing side by side, breathing heavily in the girls' open doorway where the two of them slept soundly in their beds undisturbed.

Jin stumbled over himself, the world falling out from beneath his feet. Something wasn’t right–and he knew it. That couldn’t be Matilda in her bed! Not when he had heard her calling out to him so clearly from the other side.

Mariah closed the door carefully, turning to him with eyes swirling with emotion. “Let’s get back to bed.”

“No!” Jin whispered up to her in horror, tears still running down his cheeks. “Something’s wrong! I know what I feel!”

Mariah’s face was pulled down into a tired frown, brows creased with worry. “Why don’t we go to your parents room?”

Jin resisted, leaving Mariah with no choice but to forcefully lift him away before he could wake either of the girls up, carting him all the way down to his parents' room on the first floor. He begged for her to believe him, his cries dying in the raw cage of his throat when Anslem stepped out from their room as they passed with sleep still in his eyes, confusing him further and sending him sailing into a full mental breakdown in Mariah’s arms. When his father opened the door, his mild irritation morphed into something Jin couldn’t read as he whisked him into their shared room with a brief apology to Mariah, his mother trying to soothe him with hushed whispers and soft kisses to his forehead until he passed out in their bed from the sheer exhaustion of it all.

Mariah’s alarmed shouting from the other side of their door woke him not more than a half hour later. And of course, Jin had suspicions as to why.

_________________________________________

Dirt clung to his pants from where he had fallen, eyes locked on the cold, lifeless body of Matilda that jolted under the merciless pummel of CPR on her small ribs. Anselm wouldn’t give up, even when they heard her ribs crack or when G-min pointed out how blue her lips were with a gentle hand on his shoulder, urging him to stop.

Y/n was gone, taken by Jungkook’s father amongst the commotion of it all–but Jin remained. He couldn’t look away, not when bile buzzed and crackled in his throat or his hands went numb.

He didn't feel like he had a right to. It was his punishment to watch.

G-min was the one who forced him away from the scene, zombie-like and entranced in his shock. The entire house succumbing to screams and the broken wails of grief was what he was welcomed with, everything moving in a blur as though in slow motion, words meshing and melding together like his ears were stuffed with cotton. His mother clasped her face in his hands, urging him back to the present as she cried–but he couldn’t find it.

Yeongjin met his eyes over his mother's head, and in that moment–for the first time in his entire life–he found sympathy. He found an understanding that only the two of them could possibly share. He felt the burden lift from his shoulders ever so slightly as his father approached.

“I told you to leave it be.” He lamented to Jin in a murmur, engulfing him in his arms. “This is why we don’t engage in personal matters. It hurts too much.”

He stayed in his parents' room for days following her discovery, hiding away from his friends to keep the shame he felt to himself. The guilt of not doing more. The guilt of turning away from them and going back to bed.

Jin kept what he had seen to himself for a month. An entire month of holding onto the image of Anselm standing on the landing with Matilda’s arm in his grasp, or his strange demeanor as he wandered the dining room after catching Jin realigning the shoes. He told himself he couldn’t possibly have done something to her–not when he loved her so dearly and had seemed so genuinely distraught at finding her in the lake.

But his gut knew better. It always did.

Thoughts of the overheard discussion from earlier that year haunted him each day, swirling around him and blinking like a neon sign. He knew he would have no choice but to tell them. So he did, one unsuspecting Wednesday evening in mid-August while locked away in the Wörner office, shaking with nerves and sinking with guilt.

“That’s not possible. He was–he was in bed with me when I got up. There would be no possible way for him to return from the trail, shower, make his way back to bed and fall asleep in such a short amount of time.” Mariah shook her head violently.

“Are you questioning my son again? After what happened?” Yeongjin scoffed. “You asked him to abuse his gift and now you are refusing to listen.”

Mariah laughed, utter denial painting her features. “Because it’s not physically possible!”

“I think it’s about time you start accepting that what’s happening here doesn’t abide by the rules of our world, Ms. Wörner.” Yeongjin set his jaw, boring into her with poorly concealed rage.

“This is ridiculous. I will not be humoring the idea that my daughter died because of some…some curse or supernatural reason. That is absolutely absurd.” Mariah dismissed with a wave of her hand.

“Ask him.” Jin surprised himself with his sudden interruption, gripping the edge of the table with his fingers until his knuckles turned white. Everyone turned to look at him in differing levels of shock, so he gestured to Anselm with his chin, hiding his own nervous tremors behind a mask of calm. “Ask him.”

Mariah threw her hands up in exasperation, chuckling at the absurdity of it. “Yes of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” She twisted herself on the office sofa to face her husband, looking at him expectantly. “Did you kill our daughter?”

Silence blanketed them. The kind that was heavy with the unsaid, dragging their stomachs down through the floor.

“Anselm–” Mariah laughed again, nervously. “This isn’t a difficult question to answer.”

Anselm kept his head bowed, his spine curled inwards on the plush red office chair he was slumped in. He looked to her, eyes glistening with emotion.

“Anselm.” Mariah narrowed her eyes at him, tone falling short of cutting.

Anselm took in a shaky breath, letting it fall from his mouth in a disheartened sigh. “I don’t know.”

Mariah was paralyzed by his admittance–resembling more of a photograph to Jin than someone sitting in the same room as him. She wasn’t even breathing. She finally opened her mouth, speaking through clenched teeth. “That’s not an answer, Anselm.”

“Well, it’s mine.” Anselm murmured, finally glancing up to meet Jin’s eyes. “I remember getting out of bed to stretch my legs after a bad dream. And I remember seeing you organizing the shoes.” He looked straight through Jin. “But I don’t remember anything after that. Even the memory itself is hazy, like that too could have been a part of the dream.” He turned to his wife. “I don’t remember ever going back to bed.”

Mariah looked washed out and tense, her fingers digging into the sofa cushions next to her. “That doesn’t mean you-”

“I was with Matilda in my dream.” Anselm cut her off. “And we were at the lake.” He lifted his hands to look at, flexing his fingers into fists and relaxing them. “In my dream, the voices–they were telling me things. That she was an imposter–a demon mimicking my daughter. That she was going to hurt us if I didn’t act.” He choked back a sob, clawing at his own throat as though to keep it in or rip it out–Jin couldn’t tell. “It was like I couldn’t stop myself. I remember seeing fireworks, I remember being, so enraged. Like I wasn’t in control of my own body, watching it from behind a screen like a bad dream.” He hung his head low, shoulders shaking as he cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Gott vergib mir….”

Mariah was sitting rigid on the sofa, then before Jin could blink she was up and on her feet, wrenching open the door that separated the office from their bedroom and slamming it shut behind her.

Yeongjin gripped Jin’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Go find mom. I will find you after.” He shot a guarded glance over to Anselm who was too busy melting into a puddle of his own misery to notice, then disappeared after Mariah. Jin couldn’t help but utilize Anselm being distracted as a moment of opportunity, sneaking up to the door and pressing his ear against it to listen.

“I can’t do this. I can’t–” Mariah was heaving through her sobs. “I want a divorce. I need to get the other girls away from him–he needs help, Yeongjin. I can’t look at him ever again.”

“Yes you can,” Yeongjin soothed. “You have to. It will only make things worse.”

“No.” Mariah held strong. “I’m taking him to a hospital and I’m leaving him there to rot!”

Jin’s father sighed sharply, and he heard the floorboards creak under his striking steps. “Listen to me! I’ve been trying to tell you that something would inevitably happen for months now. No hospital is going to help him! It’s time you woke up to see what’s been staring you in the face for far too long, Ms. Wörner.”

There was a pause before she spoke again. “Okay! Fine!” She audibly sniffled. “What do I do?”

“I can’t help you now.” Yeongjin conceded apologetically. “Things are already in motion. If we interfere–it could hurt our children too.”

“How am I supposed to do all this on my own?! How am I supposed to fix a problem I don’t know a damn thing about!” Mariah began to breathe heavily. “This is why I never wanted to buy into any of Margaret’s mysticism. It put all the weight on my shoulders! Why can’t he fix it?”

“Because he’s compromised,” Yeongjin rebutted, doing his best to keep Mariah’s volume low.

Mariah scoffed. “Well he wasn’t compromised his whole life now, was he?”

“Maybe.”

Jin heard Mariah slump onto one of their ornate ottomans in front of their closet right beside the door, taking deep breaths in to control herself. “If I am to fix this mess, I’m going to need some kind of help. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with what we’ve already given you, and whatever you can find from what Margaret left behind. I’m sure the historical society will prove rather useful.”

“This is crazy…” Mariah’s voice fizzled out. “Can I ask you one thing, Yeongjin? Or is that forbidden?”

His father’s weight slumped across from her on the vanity stool on the opposite side of the door, and his head thumped back against the wall where he rested it, unknowingly sandwiching Jin between their defeated sighs. “Just one. I can’t promise any kind of answer.”

Mariah exhaled sharply, cursing under her breath before Jin heard her fall onto the ottoman entirely, her voice smushed by the cushion digging into her cheek–sounding almost juvenile in a way Jin had never heard her sound. “My other girls. Are they safe?”

Jin wanted to shout through the door his own answer, but bit his cheek instead, listening to see what his father would say.

“You know…” Yeongjin clicked his tongue a few times as he meticulously formulated an answer. “I heard that Hershey has an amazing boarding school program. It would keep them away from the house for most of the year while still close enough to visit.”

The silence lasted so long after his answer that Jin had started to move away from the door, barely catching Mariah’s seething whisper.

“Take him away from me. If I see him right now, I might kill him myself. I need time.”

_________________________________________

Jin became a regular in their office. He was, after all, a key witness and most valuable asset in whatever was occurring. Whatever childhood Jin had was stripped from him that year, and hung to dry through the bitter winter and budding spring. His father refused to help them–as did all of the other parents. Each one of them wordlessly took a step away from any more hefty discussions or late-night meetings, as though this response had been programmed into them, lying asleep beneath the surface until something triggered it to activate.

But Jin wasn’t one of them.

There were too many nights spent crying–wishing he had taken the extra moment to pray over Matilda’s sneakers, or resist the parents’ reassurance. He would lie there for hours scrutinizing every little mistake he had made leading up to the moment she died, from the direction his cup had faced that morning at breakfast down to how many times he scrubbed across his teeth with his toothbrush. Like underneath all of the mundane, he would find the true reasoning lurking at the bottom of his daily schedule. Like it was the undeniable truth that somehow it was his fault.

Jin wouldn’t call himself a manipulator, but if there was one thing he had learned from his father’s own answer that night, was that bending the rules was the only way to survive their gift. Each morning, he would disguise his request for security as a prayer, praying that he hoped each of his friends by name would be safe that day from whatever was lurking in the walls of the house. And if something in his gut twitched–he knew who to keep an eye on that day.

That summer, when he had predicted Hoseok’s fall from the rafters of the summer ballet down to the very moment it was to occur, was when he stopped believing in god. Because no matter what little actions he made to try and keep Hoseok from going that night, fate inevitably ran its course. He could only let so many of his friends suffer because “god” didn’t want him to intervene before he would throw the towel in. So he stopped asking ‘God’ for answers entirely, settling for the other ‘being’ within him that had no face, and no name. For if it was the devil, Jin found him better company.

He read the bible regularly with his father, pushed forth by a newfound interest, much to his mislead delight. He wasn't doing it because he believed, but instead soaking up the stories of wrath and vengeance, finding holes and weak threads the men who translated left behind when they used God to justify death, loss, and war. Hatred and self-righteousness. All of it bubbling over into his life until his prayers with his father turned bitter and cynical, sounding more like a one-sided interrogation than an act of reverence.

It wasn’t that he hated god per se, more so he hated how easily he let people abuse his name. How he just sat back and let people brandish his name for whatever they thought was important. He just wanted answers–a reason why Jin would be considered selfish and sinful for helping those he loved, but those who used him as a shield to remain blind and indifferent to suffering were not.

Years ground on like rusted metal cogs, all of them feeling the same when one no longer found solace or identity with their youth. As was the case ninety-nine percent of his childhood. However, there was that one percent, where the planets seemed to align just right and give him the perfect amount of shadow to hide away in for just a short while.

“Jin!”

His nose twitched, the loud whisper barely distrubing him from his daily assigned reading.

There was a small huddle of hushed voices that convened on the other side of the propped open study doors–the sound of trouble Jin could easily recognize. Their meeting ceased, and the same voice called out again, impish and tailing off into a small giggle.

“Jiiiinnnnnn~”

Jin let his eyes snap up to the doorway, counting the stacked heads of the four usual suspects he could easily pin for any crime around the house. Y/n’s eyes gleamed at him from around the wood, a mischievous grin stretched out over her features. She procured a neon orange toy gun from behind her back and held it out for him to see like she was auctioning off a prize on a game show.

“Care to join us? We are playing capture the flag and we need one more person.”

Jin shook his head on instinct, eyes flitting back down to his book. “I see four of you. That looks like an even number to me.”

Y/n groaned theatrically, cradling the fake weapon to her chest. “Yes, now it looks even. But Yoongi said he’d join us if we left him alone for the afternoon, which makes it odd.”

His lips quirked to the side in thought, pinching the pages left of his mandatory reading with a minute frown. “I don’t know. I have to finish this–plus my dad would-”

“Your dad’s not home.” Yoongi drawled from the stairs, sauntering into frame with tired eyes, looking pointedly at Jin. “If I have to do this crap, then so do you.”

Jimin gasped, scandalized. “You said a bad worrrddd!”

There was a chorus of teasing ‘oooooooo’s that came when one child got in trouble under another’s watch.

Yoongi glared in a way that conveyed no real anger, playfully shoving at whoever was closest–who just so happened to be Y/n–with a cocky smirk. “And I can say a lot worse ones if you’d like.”

Jin noted the way Y/n seemed to grow flustered momentarily, stammering over her words as her attention fixed back on Jin. “W-what do you say Jin? We won’t tell.”

The preteen in question looked down at his book, weighing the pros and cons in his mind. It’s not that his father never wanted him to play–in fact, he actively encouraged it. It was just that the group in front of him had a reputation for taking things too far in ways his father didn’t approve of. Jin nibbled at his lip, a part of him begging to just snatch the toy and run off with it without question. The other half worried about doing what he thought was right.

Y/n stepped closer, jutting her bottom lip out and giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeaassseeee!”

Jin looked up to her from his spot on the couch, and in that moment he let himself ponder the activity in a way he had been taught to view as silly and selfish. Envisioning the game, and the mental image of his father to see what his ‘devil’ told him. When no thoughts of scolding or true trouble plagued him, he stood.

They all waited on baited breath for his answer, Hoseok already beginning to make some comment about how much of a buzzkill Jin was when the answer came to him.

A smile, truly bright and joyful took over his features and he closed his heavy book and dropped it onto the coffee table. Y/n rejoiced as he took the toy in his hands and let her lead him through the foyer and down the winding halls to the back door.

“Okay, so teams of three. You, me, and Jungkook on one; Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok on the other.” Y/n leapt from the top step and landed barefoot on the grass. “No shots are off-limits because we aren’t a bunch of babies. Just don’t lie if it doesn’t stick to your shirt.” She gave a pointed glare to Hoseok.

The teams naturally split, the trios fanning out in opposite directions across the yard. “Three shots and you need to get tagged back in by another player. And then the usual capture the flag rules. Here, put this on.” Y/n tossed him one of the mesh shirts designed so the foam bullets would stick to them.

“Got it.” He shimmied the fabric over his t-shirt. “Where’s our flag?”

Jungkook grunted, gesturing him to follow into the tree line. About twenty-five yards in Jungkook stopped tilting his head back at an awkward angle and pointing to the sky. “Here.”

Jin shielded his eyes from the filtering rays of sun to see the red triangle hung from a tree branch nearly ten feet off the ground. “Jeez! How’d you get that up there….”

“I just climbed.” Jungkook blinked at him as though the answer was obvious.

Jin nodded in approval, ruffling his hair playfully. “Good job, Kook.” The younger boy grumbled, swatting the elders hands away.

“Offense or defense?” Y/n asked, skipping to a stop next to them.

“Huh?” Jin took his hands from Jungkook’s head much to the latter’s relief.

Y/n sighed. “Do you want to guard the flag or take the field? Jungkook always plays mid.”

Jin felt the grip of his responsibilities already start slipping away and his eyes lit up with a playful gleam. “Guard the flag. I’m the eldest of course, and the most responsible. Obviously.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but giggled nonetheless, grinning at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She looked back over her shoulder to peer through the trees back at the yard. “It looks like they are just about ready. What’s our team name gonna be?”

“Duh,” Jin gestured to himself sarcastically. “Team Seokjin.”

Y/n deadpanned at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.” Jin corrected, holding up a finger in the air triumphantly. “I am the oldest, I get final say.”

“S’fine with me.” Jungkook shrugged, tying his black belt made to hold extra bullets around his waist.

“See! He has taste.” Jin smirked down at Y/n. “It’s good luck you know.”

Y/n scrunched her face up in distaste, not batting an eye when Jungkook stalked over to fix her ammunition belt, securing it tighter and slipping a couple of his own bullets in the holder. “How?”

“Because I’m on the team.” Jin shrugged. “And majority rules anyway.”

“Fine. But you better prove that it’s good luck otherwise I’m choosing our name next round!”

Jungkook and Y/n took off back towards the yard shortly after, Jungkook crouching low at the edge of the woods and Y/n staking claim on the grassy field, a set of twin toy pistols loaded and ready to shoot. The weapon they gave Jin was longer, designed to resemble more of a sniper rifle than the handguns Y/n wielded. Jin lay down on his belly to hide himself and avoid giving away their exact location, sliding himself under some of the brush and propping his weapon towards where the other team should come from.

He heard Y/n shout out a countdown, and then the yard turned into a blur of color. Neon orange and yellow dots flying in all directions as Y/n dodged them, leaping side to side, tangled in a brutal standoff with Jimin before she made a break for the other side with Jimin hot on her tail. Jungkook slinked more like an animal along the brush, awaiting for any signal from Jin or Y/n to act fast.

“Jungkook! I’m down!” Y/n screamed from across the lawn and out of Jin’s sight. “Avenge meeeeee!” As expected, Jungkook took off in an instant, leaving Jin to defend this side of the field alone.

The urge to prove himself to them was overtaking him. This was something he didn’t get to do very often, and he didn’t want it to be the last time they asked him. So again, he was incredibly selfish–something that contrary to his expectations, actually made him feel good for once. Happy. And what did it matter anymore? He didn’t believe in god anyway. Right? What punishment could he receive from someone he doesn’t believe in?

He thought of Hoseok and Yoongi, and the flag behind him flapping idly in the low wind, letting the sounds surround him as his heartbeat thudded in anticipation. The answer didn’t come like one of God’s answers, it came like a gentle insinuation in his brain. Like there could be no other possible answer.

Another smile wormed onto his face–this one confident and boyish–and cocked his toy gun to ready his first shot.

As the second eldest, Yoongi may brand himself as distant and sort of standoffish, but deep down he was still like the rest of them–a kid who wanted to win. He had his cold and prickly facade to give Y/n and Jungkook the element of surprise, for no one would expect him to be the first choice for the offensive player. Well, everyone except Jin.

Yoongi’s sneakers crunched across the fallen twigs and piled up underbrush as he leapt from one patch of earth to the other, spine curved low so his dark clothing would blend into his surroundings as much as possible. His thin legs moved expertly, each step confident and and assured. But he had yet to see Jin.

Jin tracked him with the nose of his weapon, one eye closed to give himself the best chance. Yoongi paused, neck stretching up to scope the area above the bushes and exposing the top of his vest to Jin’s mercy.

He pulled the trigger without hesitation, landing one foam bullet at the collar of Yoongi’s shirt just as Yoongi ducked down at the sharp sound. Yoongi let out a string of his promised curses from behind the foliage, sliding along his belly to avoid another hit. Jin moved with him, crawling parallel to him as to not lose his next chance. When Yoongi tried to roll from the end of that line of brush to a moss-ridden tree, Jin landed his second shot on his back, grinning to himself as the bullet wobbled upon impact. Jin scrambled to his feet as Yoongi disappeared behind the tree and stamped himself to the back of the same trunk, holding his breath so Yoongi wouldn’t hear his proximity.

Jin didn’t even have to think about it this time; he was so invested that he just knew which side Yoongi would try to slink around. He matched their steps, sidling against the tree trunk and out of the other boy’s sight. He peered around the edge, watching as Yoongi dropped to a crouch and looked from side to side, staring at the spot where Jin had originally hunkered down with a clouded expression.

Taking his chance, he swung his weapon around and barely aimed, finishing Yoongi off with his final blow.

The Younger boy shouted in protest, groaning in frustration as he fell. “I hate this game…”

Jin grinned triumphantly down at him, reloading his gun and propping it on his shoulder. “Maybe you should just get better at it.”

There was a victorious shout from across the field, Y/n was running full speed back to the treeline with Jungkook at her side, the red flag of the opposite team scrunched in Jungkook’s fist.

They played three rounds–and team Seokjin won all three of them.

Jin played offense the second time, letting his intuition guide him freely without thought straight to their flag. No strange voices and answers in his head, just his feeling–just him.

“That’s no fair–you guys must have cheated!” Hoseok whined from his seat, watermelon juice dribbling down his chin, which Jin on instinct reached out with a napkin to swipe at.

“Nope. I’m just older and smarter than you. Maybe you should’ve asked me to be on your team.” Jin shrugged.

Yoongi looked at him as though trying to pick him apart, eyes squinted nearly closed. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“It’s the truth!” Jin gestured his with his watermelon slice with a theatrical flair. “The luck is in the team name, losers.”

“I guess Team Seokjin is lucky.” Y/n giggled from her spot near him, sandwiched tightly between Jungkook and Hoseok while Jimin tried not to look like he was pouting on the other side of the outdoor table.

Jin practically glowed with enthusiasm. “Of course it is! Because it’s named after the wisest one of the bunch.” He shoved a rather large chunk of watermelon in his mouth, the fruit exploding on his tongue and nearly choking him.

“I don’t know. I still think you all were up to something.” Yoongi maintained his glare, still bitter for his loss for someone that didn’t even want to play in the first place. “Something fishy…”

The afternoon passed by like a drifting ship, gliding through the hours and offering Jin the moment to be free from it all. The pressure, the weight of knowing, the need to obsessively check the shoes by the door and the restless unease he always felt let him go while he was with his friends, locked in a tumultuous game of Monopoly–a game Jin figured out that his gut couldn’t always help him with.

Y/n and Hoseok wanted to go about their usual evening brigades of chasing the insects around the flora, all while the others watched from the porch, tired out from their afternoon games of chase. Yoongi took up the porch step next to Jin, who brought out his reading to flit through while he kept an eye on them from afar.

“How do you read that stuff? Whenever I hear it, it’s always so boring.” Yoongi dropped his chin onto his palm, looking blankly at the book in Jin’s hands.

Jin’s nose twitched. “I’m supposed to. Plus important to read things even if you don’t necessarily agree with them. It helps you form opinions.”

Yoongi hummed. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” Jin blinked at him with wide eyes, not sure he understood him.

“Agree with it all.” Yoongi gestured to the book. “I know I don’t.”

Jin hesitated, too scared to voice his answer aloud. Yoongi watched his silent battle, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a half-friendly smile. “It’s alright if you don’t. I won’t tell on you.”

Jin looked over his shoulder at the glass doors to the living room, half expecting to find his father looming there, ready to catch him in the act. When he found no such image, he turned back to Yoongi and leaned in close, finding comfort in whispered secrecy.

“No.”

Yoongi leaned in too. “Cool. But why are we whispering?”

“Because they can’t know. I’m not supposed to think this way–I’ll get in trouble.”

“Oh.” Yoongi frowned slightly, looking up to Jin like he could see his anxiety plan as day, responding with rare sincerity. “I really won’t tell.”

Jin looked to him gratefully–it truly felt good to confess what he has been mulling over out loud. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi nodded, staring out into the grass while fidgeting in his seat for a few moments like he didn’t know what to say. He then turned back to Jin and bumped his shoulder playfully with his own. “That means you’ve joined the rebel group now, huh?”

“W-what? No!” Jin flushed immediately. Being a rebel meant being ‘bad’.

“Defying the rules and sneaking around is the definition of a rebel, don’t fight it.” Yoongi got to his feet and skipped down the last two steps at a leisurely pace. “I’m going to help the two dimwits who just knocked over the garden fence. See you later.”

Jin moved to stand too, the name given to him made his behavior today feel more real, and he wanted to escape back inside to the safety of the study and the routine it nourished. He was stopped by Yoongi’s voice again.

“Hey Jin?”

“Yeah?” Jin turned to face him quickly, hands icking at the leather of his book.

“I had fun with you today.” Yoongi nodded up to him with a crooked smile. “Rebellion looks good on you.”

_________________________________________

Yoongi’s reassurance stuck with him like his words had funneled straight from his mouth and into his skin, branding him with a tattoo only Jin could see. Even as the years chugged onward, he remembered it. Not that Yoongi did it knowingly–there was no way he could have–but it was the first time he had been complimented after doing something for himself. Comforted instead of disciplined by his parents or by fate. In a way he owed his newfound freedom to him.

For his first act of intended rebellion was music.

Playing his guitar on the guest house porch offered him refuge from it all. It was a safe place to express himself freely without judgement, to explore and learn away from his father’s watchful eye. To sin in ways his father would never approve of.

His second act of rebellion was vastly different and about ten thousand times more extreme. To say he took leaps and bounds would be an understatement. It was in the place he had grown much too comfortable in over the years, draped in red curtains and burgundy sofas, locked away from any prying eyes where he did the unthinkable.

Jin was there, reminiscing over the details of that cursed night in July on a piece of notebook paper that he would then “accidentally” drop onto the floor for Mariah to pick up in a few minutes upon her return from work. On the bottom of the page, he would write out whether or not he had gotten any strange murmurs in his gut that morning and who and what they were referring to–or whether or not he had any spiritual encounters and every small detail he had on them.

On this particular night, he was exhausted. His head ached so terribly he thought it mind explode, and his face was tender and puffy. He had eaten through multiple tissue boxes that week and if the world could run on sniffle-powered energy, he would have the entire country acounted for from this week alone. It made him weak–both physically and mentally. Jin was one dose of cold medicine away from just forfeiting this ridiculous ritual and speaking to Mariah upfront. Whatever he could do to bring justice to Matilda and sooth her soul that was so full of unrest as of late.

His free time was plentiful. His apprenticeship under his father was going smoothly, and it left his afternoons open for whatever else he pleased. He had half a mind to go down to the historical society and start digging himself–if he wasn’t conscious of what that could mean for the rest of his family. Mariah never fully involved him, never told him any details that could put him in harm's way. But he was growing anxious, for both himself and Matilda. He knew there was more than met the eye with her situation, and wouldn’t rest until he found the answers he sought.

The door the office opened, and Jin didn’t bother straightening himself from his slouched position on the couch. He was sure it had to be Mariah anyways. But before he could register the footsteps pounding across the rug, the paper was ripped from his hands with a shout.

“What are you doing!” His father hissed down at him, eyes scanning the paper too fast for Jin to stop. “This is–is this what you’ve been up to in here? Meddling with their business? Putting all of our lives at risk?”

Jin felt his anger bubbling back to the surface, brows creasing as he jumped up to snatch the paper back from his hands. “I’m helping a friend–that hardly accounts to meddling.”

Yeongjin’s face may have started to show signs of age–a few wrinkles on his forehead that always seemed to be present or the faint sunspots on the backs of his hands–but his look of admonishment was still as sharp as it was when he was a kid.

“That is meddling! I didn’t raise you to be so reckless-”

“No, you raised me to be a coward!” Jin bit back, surprising even himself. Yeongjin looked taken aback as well, taking a half step back towards the door.

His father leveled a finger at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “You will not speak to me that way. I am your father and you will listen to me when I tell you to stop this–now. There are things you don’t understand about what you’re messing with. The lengths it will go–” Yeongjin cut himself off with a huff, and held up the crumpled piece of paper. “This? Ends tonight. You are no longer allowed in this room alone.”

Inside Jin was screaming. His anger had turned a shade darker, ravishing his insides and turning them into a boiling liquid that toiled behind his lips he had to bite to keep closed. It was then that his father tossed the paper into the fireplace, letting it erupt into flames in tandem with Jin’s restraint.

“Well it looks like I will just be writing another one.” Jin shrugged with enough sass to get him grounded if he wasn’t an adult.

Yeongjin narrowed his eyes at his son. “You won’t.”

“I will,” Jin replied simply. “I’ll write them at work, in the bathroom–heck I’ll write them at the church and walk them down to the post office to mail to her. Whatever it means to keep my friends safe.”

“Safe?” Yeongjin laughed bitterly. “You’re putting them in danger. Why don’t you understand that?”

“I can’t understand what you won’t tell me!” Jin challenged.

“ I don’t need to tell you anything. I will share it with you when you are ready.”

Jin rolled his eyes. “Oh right–when ‘God’ says it’s the right time. How could I possibly forget…”

An ear-ringing silence took a hold of the office as Jin realized what he had said. He had no interest in taking it back though.

“Excuse me?” Yeongjin looked at him with deadly dark eyes.

Jin almost fell to his father’s look he had feared so much growing up, almost backtracked and felt his childhood self start to wither beneath it. Almost.

“Let’s not pretend like you aren’t aware of how I feel. How I’ve felt for a long time.” He finally forced out, his hands shaking from the adrenaline of it all. “How could you expect me to still love a god that killed one of my friends, and tried to kill another?” That shames me and guilts me into hating myself?”

His father tensed. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t believe in him anymore. Even if he is real, I don’t want to devote myself to someone who watches people suffer.” Jin seethed, fists clenching at his side.

Yeongjin was on him in a second, gripping his shoulders and shaking him in a fear-induced fever, one hand clamping down on his lips to keep any more words from coming out. “Don’t say any more.”

Jin didn’t expect to see such unbridled terror on his fathers face–his wide eyes washing over him like a bucket of ice water.

“You can’t–We can’t say that…” Yeongjin shook his head. “I don’t care what you believe in–but you will act like you love him. Put on the best show of your life as you pray to him! But you will not say that you don’t believe in him. Not here.”

“Dad…” Jin pried his father’s hand from his mouth and looked to him with worry.

Yeongjin released him, stumbling back towards the door with unsteady breaths. “Listen to me when I say this–follow the rules, put on your best show, and stay out of their business. Please.”

His father didn’t wait fora response, his fingers coiling around the office door handled and turning it.

“Do you believe in him?” Jin asked suddenly, stopping him in his tracks.

Yeongjin sighed, looking back to his son with something akin to pity. “I do what must be done. And so will you.”

Jin stared at the empty space where is father had been, replaying his words over and over again in his mind until they embedded themselves deep in his brain. His eyes danced with the orange glow of the hearth, taking to watching the ashes of the note sift to the bottom of the fireplace. And he didn’t think twice when he wrote up another one, leaving it to sit on the cushion of the sofa for Mariah to find. His father’s fear may haunt him, but so did Matilda. And she deserved just as much respect.

That wasn’t to say as the weeks passed that his father’s confession didn’t follow him–poisoning the well of his memories for him to replay over and over again, thinking of every interaction he’d had with him to date and picking apart the smallest of differences. Taking note of where he might have seen him falter.

There was no denying the fact that it felt good to be seen that way–as much as it flipped his entire world upside down. But it left him wondering just why his father was so keen on keeping up with a religion he didn’t believe in, and so fervently nonetheless.

He never dared to test it–not yet at least. He played the part his father played, the two of them going to church and reading together by the fire of the study at night. Mariah stopped asking him for updates, and Jin assumed it had something to do with his dad having a word with her behind closed doors.

Y/n’s graduation had come and gone, and after plenty of celebration, something stirred within Jin’s belly as he watched her follow her father around the property, catching the cracks in Anselm’s mask form when she would turn away or brush too close to him. Like a caged animal threatening to break through at any moment.

And to Jin’s surprise, it was Anselm that had come to Jin first, begging him to meet them in his office one final time.

Of course he obliged, even if seeing him still brought a sense of unease that never seemed to go away until he left.

“I’m going to kill her. I know I will.” Anselm’s confession hung over Jin and Mariah heavily. “The more she trains under me, the more I feel it growing. I can’t sleep anymore. Whatever is inside me wants me to find her–and I’m worried I won’t be able to stop myself again.”

“Then we need to send you on another trip. Get you out of the house for a bit. “ Mariah paced behind the sofa. “I have everyone here to help me care for Roland–we will be fine here until you come back.”

“No, that won’t be enough.” Anselm lamented. “We need to…She can’t take over after me. That’s what they are angry about. They want Roland to take over.”

Mariah froze. “No. That’s not an option. That will break her Anselm and you know it. We can’t do that to her–we can’t give in.”

“We have to.” Anselm flopped back against the couch, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “It’s the only way.”

“You can’t be sure of that…”

Anselm’s hands dropped to his lap, his eyes flashing an inhumane gold. “I can.”

Jin’s breath hitched at the energy shift in the room. It was surreal, watching him move his eyes that seemed to pulse in his skull like they were going to burst.

“We need to do it soon. I can’t…I can’t hold them back much longer.”

“What can I do to help?” Jin spoke up, unsure what he was needed for in the first place. Both eyes turned to him, and Anselm coughed into his sleeve, his voice growing rough.

“I need you to tell her so she will believe me–Will I kill her if she stays?”

His skin crawled under his swirling stare, but his intuition that had now become easy to control switched on anyways, answering easily. “Yes.”

“Then…” Anselm cleared his throat. “We have to tell her we’ve changed our minds.”

“‘We?’” Mariah parroted hopelessly. “This is your decision. Not mine. I can’t do that to her–

I’ve lost enough time with her being gone at boarding school as it is. She’d never forgive me.”

Anselm looked to her, begging. “You have to. If whatever this is takes hold of me, she will hear it in my voice. If she fights it might trigger it…”

Mariah through her hands up in the air with a stifled cry. “Are you not even going to try?”

“I’ll try. I promise.” He held a hand out for her to take, and she did so with a squeeze. “I promise I’ll try.”

_________________________________________

January was a bitter kind of cold. Made all the more blistering by the absence of Y/n–this month marking an entire year since Mariah had been the one to chase her off. Like lightning cracking a path down a tree trunk, splitting it open like an ugly wound, Y/n’s departure scattered them all. Namjoon disappeared for university, Jungkook became reclusive–only talking to Jimin and Hoseok if they were lucky. Yoongi was gone–not that his leave particularly surprised anyone.

Hoseok remained under the pretense of being unsure of where to go next, but Jin knew the real reason. Thus, he made it a point to spend time with him on any evening he could tie him down in the dining room long enough for a card game. This became a comforting routine for both of them, especially when the blow of their hiring Taehyung to take over during Hoseok’s indecision struck his friend like a firing squad: a blow to his ego, a blow to his heart, and a blow to his motivation. Hoseok never spoke of it though, keeping the hurt to himself as he fiddled with cutesy go-fish cards or spun bingo cages.

His notes to Mariah slowed, for there was almost no one left to write about. No one left to check in on in the morning.

Jin felt souless.

Who was he if he wasn’t caring for them? He had spent so many years fretting over every little detail that when faced with the prospect of individuality and freedom, he didn’t take it.

Mariah had kept him out of whatever it was she was doing still, and he latched on to that. It felt wrong not to be a part of it. His parents were starting to spend more time away now, making memories with each other again, now that he was an adult of his own. They had two years to fly around until Jin was expected to graduate anyways, so why not make the most of it? It gave him more room to do what they explicitly told him not to do.

He found himself at the lake, crusted over with thick sheets of white and littered with tree branches snow. The cold turned his nose red, and his fingertips numb, his breath freezing in the air in front of him where he stood, boots shuffling over the edge of the ice as he willed himself to just ask the question–reopen that door to a god he wanted nothing to do with.

Jin’s lips parted with a puff of steam, his voice smaller than he imagined. “What happened here?”

A bird flew overhead, flapping dark black wings as it zipped into the barren branches. Squirrels bounced in frantic paths across the snow. He grit his teeth, waiting.

“What happened here that night?” Jin tried for a second time. “With Matilda.”

Serene was the scene before him, the usually quiet woods muted to something more than silent from the layer of snow that swallowed any noise nearby. Nothing was stopping the clear voice in his head that used to scare him into submission so much as a child except it's own refusal to make an appearance.

“This is why I can’t trust you,” Jin began, hot anger clashing with the frigid air. “You never show up when I need you to. You never do anything that makes any sense. Where are you now after putting so much pressure on me as a kid? Why did I deserve it then and not now?” He whirled around to take in the vast, empty world of white, speaking to nothing. “Where are you?”

He laughed bitterly, smacking a hand on his thigh like he was just told the best joke he had ever heard. “That’s right! You’re not here!” He looked up, squinting into the overcast sky. “You’re not here because you’re not real. Is that it?” He dropped his hands again, throwing them into an exaggerated shrug. “Actually, don’t bother answering that. I don’t care. I wouldn't want to believe in you even if you did.” He spun on his heels, trying to blink away the dark shapes burned into his vision by the sun.

Jin screamed. White hot pain scorched through his shoulder as what felt like thousands of needles punctured through the skin there, straight through his coat and sweater, soaking his chest with heat. Hands flailed, catching on slippery skin and shoving the animal off of him. He still couldn’t see well, eyes adjusting from the sun-splotches to focus on the shape in front of him.

“Repent. For he is our god.” The woman in front of him might as well have been an animal for all Jin knew, with multiple sets of eyes blinking from concaves in her cheeks, and skin hardened and stretched thin over protruding bones. She spat at him through rows of sharp teeth dyed crimson from his blood. A true demon was looking at him through yellow black eyes and coming onto him-fast.

Fingers dug into his shoulders, pressing into his open wounds until he cried out. He was shoved to his knees before her, completely at her mercy.

“Say it.”

“Say wha-” Her palm met his cheek with a sharp crack.

“Say it, or be punished. This is no way to thank him for what gifts he has given unto you and your family.”

Jin breathed heavily, his mouth tasting of iron. He was shaking. “I’m sorry. He is…he is our god.”

All of our eyes blinked down at him, each with its own individual rhythm. Studying him. “Not good enough. Again.” His face stung as her hand came down upon it again.

“H-he is our god!”

“You did not apologize.”

His lip split with her next blow, and her fingers curled deeper into his wound. He cried, begging for relief with as much passion as he could put into his voice. “I’m sorry! He is our god!”

Her hand lifted from his shoulder, coming back to grip the back of his head and yank it upwards to look at her. “Do you think that is good enough?”

“I don’t know what else you want me to do!” Jin winced, his shoulder throbbing so violently he almost couldn’t think of anything else. “I’m doing what you told me to do!”

“I want you to do better than that!” She pried his mouth open with two fingers, pinching his tongue between them with a pressure that made his eyes water. “How about I take this out, then maybe you will learn to speak to him with respect.”

“That is enough!” Another voice commanded from over the hill, and the woman’s neck snapped to greet it.

“You!” She hissed, long black tongue making a clicking sound behind her teeth. “You disgraceful witch!” The woman lunged at the newcomer, leaving Jin to collapse onto the snow. She moved liked a spider, all wild limbs and unpredictable.

Running to meet her was a much younger woman, around Jin’s age with dark wavy hair pulled back and our of her face. Her hand outstretched in front of her, dangling a string of beads in colors of black, white and green. From her pocket, she threw a handful of what Jin could only describe as flower petals at the demon, who recoiled from both.

The demon clicked her teeth together, red and black viscous fluid dripping down her chin onto the snow. They circled one another in a tense standoff.

“Seokjin, get up. Come here.” The younger beckoned to him, setting herself between him and the demon.

Jin struggled to his feet, grunting through the pain it took to come to a swaying stand. Once he stumbled to her side, she gave him a quick once-over from the corner of her eye and bit her lower lip. She nodded to the demon in front of them.

“He has apologized like you asked. Now let him go. A deal has been made with them, you can not just break it so carelessly.”

“Carelessly? Did you not hear him? He broke it himself–more than once today. You have always been so demanding. So callous and disrespectful. Perhaps it is you who needs to be punished!” Spit flew across the gap, landing on the woman’s cheek and sizzling upon contact. She didn’t flinch.

“Do not bother trying.” The younger woman stood steadfast. “Do these not look familiar to you?” She shook the beads in her hands, and Jin was able to see them clearly. It was a rosary not unlike his own, the silver cross dangling proudly out in the open. “They are holy. They were yours.”

“No!” Many eyes blazed with fury, teeth barred as a threat–the demon growing impatient. “Do not tell such lies! That is a talisman of the devil!” She attempted to lunge at Jin again, incensed and snapping, but the woman’s hand stopped her.

“No. That is what you have been told to think.” Finally, she angled her head to speak to Jin. “You must run, child. I will hold her back.”

Jin nodded, hesitantly stepping back towards the crest of the slope, shaking eyes never leaving the demon in case she tried to come for him again. To which the creature grinned, sickening and vile in its stretch, and moved faster than his own eyes could see to follow him.

The woman leapt after her, arms thrown around her waist in a futile effort to stop the creature that was stronger than she. “Run, Seokjin! Take these!” The beads were launched into the air, making a divot in the snow where they landed.

He scooped them up in his hands, gripping them tightly. “What about you…You…”

“I’ll be fine! Go!”

Thrashing in her arms, the demon shrieked with laughter. “There is nothing fine about you, dear Adelaide. You should never have shown your face here–punishment awaits you. And you, Kim. You will pay for betraying us!”

Jin looked at the younger woman once more in surprise, her face suddenly brining forth memories of old blurry photos and tales told around the dinner table. “Adelaide?”

“Say it louder for all the forest to hear–yes!” Her brows furrowed, her hold on the demon weakening. “Now go! Her energy will weaken, do not worry about me.”

He didn’t wait to hear more, turning on his heel and moving as fast as his battered body would let him, almost thankful for the bitter cold and how it felt against his shoulder. He could only hear the sound of his breath burning his lungs and stinging his throat, stumbling down the slippery trail all the way back to the estate. His feet didn’t stop moving until they were outside Mariah’s office door, not knowing who else to go to–not knowing who would even believe him if he tried to tell anyone what he had seen. He didn’t know if he believed it was real himself, even his wound screaming at him that it was very real.

“What can I–” Mariah gasped, hands coming up to shield her mouth as her face turned dull from shock.

Jin grimaced, hand cupping his shoulder to apply pressure to it. “It was me. I was the one we were supposed to watch out for today.”

Mariah ushered him in, running into their bathroom to locate wet rags. And upon calling for someone to take them to the hospital, she waited with him–wiping at his mouth with a cloth that kept coming back red. “What happened to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Jin squeezed the rosary in his fist, the beads making dents in the skin of his palm. Maybe this is what his father had been trying to warn him off–maybe his father knew about the demon at the lake.

She eyed the motion, then flickered her attention back to his face. “The parameters for what I can believe is possible have changed. Why don’t you tell me and we'll go from there?”

Jin never spoke to, or of God again after that day. Each time his mind wandered, he thought of the demon’s teeth in his shoulder, or her hand raised to his cheek, and his mind was flooded with the taste of iron and bile. He struggled to sleep from the nightmares of her many eyes and her horrid voice. The only good thing (depending on who you ask) to come of it was that he found someone new to pray to while faking his evening prayers, or when he was at church on Sundays.

Adelaide.

He would bow his head, muttering thanks to her, telling her of his day and the ongoings at the estate and hotel–and sometimes, he would catch glimpses of her face in the back of the chapel, shimmering to nothing as quick as she had appeared. But nothing more. Even when he begged for it.

It did, however, spur him in the direction of taking up Mariah’s side, weeding his way into her activities so he could do something. Especially when more of his friends started showing their faces again and trying to get involved.

_________________________________________

“When Yoongi came back, I was officially involved.” Jin cleared his throat, folding his napkin for the tenth time, the same exact way as before. “I was in charge of keeping tabs on him–making sure he didn’t get himself killed or anyone else. Then, when things became more complicated, I had to keep you separated so things didn’t get messier.”

“How?” Namjoon prodded. “How did you stop spirits from hurting him? Or any of us for that matter if what Mariah said is true.”

“Right,” Jin finally let the napkin rest, smoothing his hands down his jeans. “My…gift, without whoever this ‘god’-” he brought his fingers up in quotations “-is a matter of interpreting my feelings, less so clear answers. Sometimes I can be wrong, but that’s circumstantial and rare. I can get the general gist of something, but not super detailed answers. When I would be around any of you, or whenever I would really focus on you–I’d get feelings. And then Mariah would hold up photos of different family members for me to get a feel for. Then she’d leave these….gifts for them. Try to sway them away from whatever they were planning.”

Yoongi made a face that pinched downwards in thought. “What kind of gifts? Like offerings?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, sure. When we had Hoseok we would use whatever information he could pull from that individual to find things they liked. Things they hated. Then she’d take that and try and speak to them.” Jin shrugged.

“What about all of the times they succeeded? Hadwin in my room, Candida, the ghost that burned Jimin–hell, the day I saw you at the cabin and we all almost died. What happened then?” Y/n listed off, lip curled in mild distaste.

“Like I said, I’m almost always right. Sometimes, one of you or one of them would make a split decision during a gap of time where I hadn’t checked in. Think of it like this-” he plucked his fork and his spoon up, and shook them “-pretend these are game pieces. If they are following the rules and moving in one direction around the board, without any intention of changing direction, I can gather that information from the choice they made to keep moving forward. However, let's say the person playing the fork picks up a card that lets them make an unprecedented move, if I don’t run through enough options in my head of what that card could say and ask the right questions to myself–they could make an unknown move before I get any sort of feeling of what it could be. They could fly halfway across the board or move backwards and it would take me by surprise. If I’ve played the game a lot–which I have–I have a better chance of asking the right questions. That’s why most of the time, I’m right. I just can't ask about something I don't even know exists.”

An apologetic smile pushed up his cheeks as he gave Y/n a pointed look. “And let’s just say–you are rather unpredictable sometimes. You made a lot of different pieces pick up wild cards that I had a hard time keeping track of.”

There was a lull of silence as they soaked in his explanation, but as always Yoongi didn’t let it last very long.

“So what exactly are you two up to now, then? We’ve been gone for a hot minute.” Yoongi narrowed his eyes on him.

“Cleaning up. Cooling off. We have to push it in waves. If we push too hard too fast, I could get punished,” Jin explained, tugging down the collar of his long sleeve to display shiny white scars on his shoulder where the ghost had sunk her teeth into him, before hastily covering it back up again. “Mariah and I take turns caring for Anselm. With Y/n being back, he’s gotten worse by the day. It’s been hard to make any kind of progress when we spend nearly every day trying to keep up with whatever you’re doing.”

“I want to see him,” Y/n choked out, visions of what her dad could look like at this very moment sucking the breath out of her.

“Absolutely not.” Namjoon and Jimin chastised at the same time, followed by a much more vulgar exploitive from Yoongi.

Y/n ignored them, pushing onwards. “I want to see him. I want to see what could make him do something so out of character.”

“I think you already know….” Jin pressed his lips into a thin line. “Do you remember what happened that night? When you were…”

“Possessed as fuck? I do now.” Y/n finished for him. “And I saw him that night–the way he looked. He was possessed too, wasn’t he?”

“He is.” Jin corrected. “But by whom, we aren’t sure. We have some theories as to who it could be, though.”

“You mean your brain-thingy doesn’t just tell you right away?” Hoseok snorted, spinning his fork in his hand idly.

“Nope. That’d be too easy.” Jin sighed. “When it comes to this particular issue–the issue of that night I mean–it’s like my gift disappears. Like I’m blocked from seeing anything to do with whoever is behind this. All we know is that it has something to do with the family, and it’s angry.”

Jimin laced his fingers through Y/n’s under the table, sliding both of them onto his thigh to hold close. “What theories do you have?”

Jin’s lip quirked up on one end, fixating on Jimin. “Actually, I was really hoping you could help with that. Put our heads together and join teams.”

“All of us?” Jungkook demanded more so than asked, the uptilt of his voice at the end a forced courtesy.

Jin nodded. “All of you. It’s not like any of you would stop if we asked anyways. As you’ve proven time and time again.”

“What can I help with in particular?” Jimin hesitantly refocused the group back to what Jin had said.

“If it comes from the family, we need someone who knows the family at the forefront. We’ve been doing our best, but for obvious reasons, we can’t let Anselm get involved–and he has the most information.” Jin reached into his back pocket, slipping out pieces of folded paper. “This is the lead we are trying to work on now. If this is a bust, we are shifting focus. Perhaps you can help us find our next target. There’s two of them–one written to her sister, one written to Adelaide.”

He passed the square over to Jimin, who gingerly peeled the two sheets of yellowed paper apart. Y/n tipped her head over his shoulder to see what was written on it, finding elegant lettering and inksplattered words. Jimin began to read out loud for the table to hear as her eyes followed along:

“March 12th 1929,

Dear Candida,

I am writing here to send you my deepest condolences to both Alain and yourself for your loss.

Emilio and I will be leaving tomorrow on the first train headed north, however it pains me to say that we will not arrive in time to attend the funeral. We are set to arrive by the twentieth of the month, and as so this letter will have to hold over our absence until then. I will be writing to Adelaide and our father to let them know when to expect our arrival as well, so don’t worry yourself about any of that.

I will stay as long as you may need me to.

With love and a heavy heart,

Lisolette Medina”

Jimin coughed, then began the second:

“March 12th, 1929,

To Adelaide,

We are set to arrive at the train station on the morning of the twentieth. Despite your previous reassurance, I have still chosen to leave our daughter at the ranch under the care of Emilio’s family. While I trust that you would do everything in your power to secure her safety, I am sure that you could understand my hesitation in bringing her to the Estate in light of the most recent events.

It took a whole lot of convincing for Emilio to even let me return.

I look forward to hearing from you in regards to Candida’s most recent doctor’s visit. She has refrained from mentioning anything of it to me, and I know now is not the time to pry into a broken hearted woman's privacy. Though her most recent letter worries me.

Forgive me for being brazen, but I think it would do her some good to take some time away from the house. Perhaps you can help me convince her and our mother that some time spent down in Texas with me will do her some good. I know my head always feels lighter the longer I am away from the Estate.

Sincerely,

Lisolette Medina

P.S. Try and keep my mother together, won't you? For Candida’s sake. Her head is screwed around enough as it is, and she doesn’t need her adding stock to the pot–though I’m sure you know that already.

P.P.S. Keep mother away from house until our bags are stowed away to our room. I am bringing my gun as we discussed, and I know that might send her to the heavens if she saw it.”

“How do you want us to help you?” Namjoon poised the question smoothly. “I think it’s only fair we have some level of distrust–coming to us after all this time of keeping us out. When the last time we were there was a disaster. You keep withholding information and then giving it to us as you see fit. We need to trust each other to work together.”

“You can help however you’d like. We won’t dictate how you do it anymore. We just think…”Jin trailed off, shaking his head resolutely. “No, I think we will have better chances working together. We need more manpower, and with everything out in the open, I think as a group we have an advantage. This is getting too big for us to handle alone, especially with Y/n being close by.”

Heads turned to Y/n expectantly, and she shrank under their intense gaze. She met Yoongi’s and gestured to him with her chin. “Don’t look at me, ask him. He’s the one who should get to make the call–he’s the one who brought us all together, not me.”

Yoongi looked partially taken aback, covering it up with a twitch of his nose. His pointer finger rubbed pensively over his lower lip, dark eyes boring into the letter and Jin interchangebly, thinking.

“We’ll do it. Anything to do with Candida is a solid lead in my book.” Yoongi declared, and Y/n felt a wave of relief wash over her. “But with a few conditions.” He looked around the room with an authoritative air she didn’t see him wear very often. “First, we need complete honesty moving forward. We deserve to know everything you know, and then anything you find out moving forward. All of that crap you stole from society, return it to Jimin. Second, we need solid communication at all times. None of this, disappear for weeks at a time shit, and then show up randomly at secret locations. If you feel that something is going to happen, tell us so we can also prepare. Third…” He slid his eyes over to Y/n, then back to Jin. “I want it in writing that Y/n will return to the roll of heiress after this is all over, or no deal.”

Jin sucked in a breath, soft lips puffing out as he blew it out between them.

“I think we can figure that out.”

Y/n’s heart almost stopped, her lash line growing heavy and itchy with tears. Her hand curled into a fist on the table as something sparked within her. She picked up her glass of wine and held it over the table with shaky hands. “Then in that case, here’s to solving this shit together for our future–hopefully we don’t die trying to get it back. And if not for us, for Matilda.” Glasses raised to clink against hers, echoing her sentiment, and she tipped it back to down the entire glass in one sip. She was going to need it. “Speaking of which-” she whipped her mouth with her sleeve and sat back in her seat, “-she’s been waiting for you, and she’s making it everyone’s problem.”

Jin grew timid. “I imagine so. I haven’t been able to spend as much time with her with everything going on.”

“Well, she’ll be back don’t worry,” Taehyung chuckled nervously, still not used to talking so flippantly about ghosts and spirits. “She’s loud. Won’t miss her.”

“It’s almost like they’re related,” Yoongi snorted, taking another long sip from his glass that he tipped towards Y/n. Hoseok cackled from the other end of the table, and Jimin stifled his laugh with his drink.

“Hey!” Y/n threw her napkin at him. “We just aren’t afraid to say what we want!”

The lighthearted banter dispersed the atmosphere enough to break a lot of the tension Jin’s presence had built. The rest of dinner flowed past easily, albeit a bit choppy at times. He was always willing to answer any questions they threw at him as honestly as he could, even while he helped them clean up, taking a spot in the assembly line for dishes. Strangely, even through the awkwardness, Y/n felt complete. They may be lost, but they were now lost together. Her mother would be a different story, but right now she just let herself relish in the company of all of her old friends in one place, and the domesticity of loving jabs and sarcastic quips.

“What are the odds that almost all of us would have some kind of psychic power. Should we play the lottery or something?” Yoongi leaned against the island counter, “supervising” those doing the dishes while taste-testing the cookies Taehyung had made for dessert.

Namjoon pouted. “Speak for yourself.”

“Aww Joon, I don’t have any special powers either.” Y/n bumped his hip with hers. “We can be normal and boring together.”

His dimples made a soft appearance, cheeks tinged pink. “S-sounds like a plan. Though I wouldn’t consider you boring by any means.”

“Ew. Mom and Dad are flirting again!” Hoseok whined playfully, sidling up next to Yoongi and swiping a cookie from the plate.

“We are not!” Y/n glowed with embarrasment as the teasing set in.

“How sweet~” Jimin cooed, handing her a plate to dry.

Namjoon cleared his throat, changing the subject to save them from the onslaught. “Hey Jin, what do you say about joining us for a game tonight? We’ve been locked in a Mario Kart war, would hate to see Jungkook overthrown.”

“I’d like that,” Jin beamed sweetly. He took the plate Y/n dried and tipped it into the cabinet, hand ready for the next. Jungkook quickly slipped into the living room to set up the TV, a sign he was excited without saying a word.

“I’m catching up!” Taehyung defended, following after Jungkook. “Don’t disrespect me like that!”

“Well you haven’t seen Jin play yet!” Y/n laughed. “You can kiss your second place goodbye, loser.”

“You’re just jealous, Miss fifth place!” Taehyung disappeared into the living room before Y/n could defend herself, and she scowled at the spot he used to occupy.

She shoved her hands into the soapy water in an effort to help Jimin speed up the process. The prospect of defending her name riling her up. “Oh I’m gonna get him tonight.”

“And by get him, you mean throw a blue shell from last place and hope it hits him.” Yoongi slid from the island with a smug smile, dusting the crumbs off his fingers.

Hoseok laughed at Y/n’s expense, rising to trail after him and claim his favorites seat on the couch. It was when he stood that his laughter died in his throat, eyes narrowing into slits as he turned slowly to face the back of Jin’s head.

“Wait a minute…” Realization dawned on him, his mouth falling open. “Does this mean that all of this time you’ve been ridiculously good at games because you have some psychic power?!”

The house went quiet, and the tips of Jin’s ears flushed a shade of pink.

“...That is one question I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to. Sorry.” Jin tried to walk passed the group of dish washers, but Y/n stopped him by stepping in front of him.

“Woah woah woah–So lucky Team Seokjin, huh?”

Jin knocked at his head cartoonishly. “Oh–sorry, looks like god’s not in today. We aren’t taking any questions, but be sure to leave a message and get back to me at the beep!”

Yoongi glared around the entrance way to the livingroom, pointing a finger at the group of them. “I told you something fishy was going on with you fuckers!”

“I can’t believe this…all the games of battleship we played…” Hoseok sat down at the table looking genuinely devastated by this earth-shattering revelation.

“I didn’t cheat on all of them! Some kinds of games I can’t use it on!”

“So you let me win?!”

“Not all the time! Sometimes you actually won!”

Hoseok pouted. “Don’t make it sound so surprising!”

“Ah, they are back to normal it seems.” Jimin rolled his eyes playfully, propping the plate of cookies on his forearm and holding his elbow out to Y/n. “To the living room to defend your honor?”

She took it, finding a feeling of home in the cloud of bickering that followed them to the living room. “To defending our honor!”

_________________________________________

Stars glinted down from above, breaking up the pitchblack skies that otherwise would have consumed the sea in it’s entirety. Delicate melodies barely made it out above the sound of the waves from the distance Y/n was at, but it was shrinking with each step she carved out through the sand.

Jin’s back was facing her, his shape highlighted by the moonlight from above. The closer she got, the clearer the plucking became, a soft rendition of a Nocturne that met her ears like a lullaby.

“Fancy meeting you here. Can’t sleep?”

The guitar strings stopped with a sharp twang, and he flinched back to look at her. “Yeah…I’ve never done well away from home.”

“Me neither.” Y/n gestured to the sand next to him. “Can I join you?”

Jin nodded, scooching on his towel to make room for her to sit on it with him. He didn’t start to play again, his fingers picking at the sides of his guitar restlessly.

“I’m not…” Y/n started, struggling to find what she wanted to say. “I’m not angry with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jin tilted his head downward to look at the strings of his instrument, avoiding her stare. “What are you then?”

“Sorry.”

His head whipped up to look at her, bewildered. “‘Sorry’? After what I told you?”

“You didn’t tell me anything worth getting angry over.”

“But I didn’t–your sister–I could have-”

Y/n cut him of with a shake of her head. “That wasn’t on you. You did what you could.”

Jin didn’t seem to believe her, mouth suspended open around protests he couldn’t form while he looked out towards the ocean, eyes distant.

“It should have been me. Did you know that part?” Y/n offered dryly, pulling at the threads of his towel. “He tried to wake me up first, but I didn’t hear him. Matilda got up and lied thinking he was taking me somewhere fun.” Her hands stilled, echoes of Jimin’s voice telling her to breathe and not fidgit guiding her them into her lap. “Ever since she showed me that I…Well I already held a lot of guilt about not waking up sooner, and not doing my job as an older sister to look out for her. But that just…It fucks with my head. I blamed myself at first.” She looked up to him to find him already looking at her, expression unreadable. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. It’s whatever son of a bitch is behind this, turning us all against eachother so we are too busy fighting eachother and not them.”

Jin’s face contorted, like he was fighting to keep it under control–to keep it from showing exactly what he was feeling.

“You take care of her, right? That’s why she’s been looking for you?”

His lip quivered, and she knew she hit the nail on the head.

“Thank you for doing that. For doing what I couldn’t do–I spent too much time running away to stop and think of her as much as I should have.”

He didn’t say anything, she couldn’t even hear him breathe. Assuming he was uncomfortable, she started to rise from her seat, hastily offering muttered apologies as she left. “I’m sorry, you probably wanted to be alone-”

“I play for her.” Jin exhaled a shuddering breath. “At the guest house, near the lake. I play music for her so she doesn’t feel so alone.” Y/n slowly lowered herself back into her seat, her throat starting to burn. “And then at night I have this bear that–well, back when she first died I would hear her aroudn the halls sometimes, playing with the other spirits, and one night she spoke to me through my door, telling me how scared and lonely she was. How she felt like everyone was leaving her behind. I was too scared to invite her in my room, she just felt so different and not in a good way. So I grabbed one of my old bears and told her I’d pretend it’s her, and I tucked her in one of my baby blankets every night. Now whenever I forget or can’t get around to it, she gets upset.”

Y/n was crying before she knew it, the salt air stinging her nostrils. “I’m sure she’s grateful…”

“I guess so.” Jin’s voice cracked, and he swallowed it down. “I can’t shake the feeling that I owe her. I was the oldest, this prophet blessed by god to help–but I couldn’t help her.”

“You tried, and I’m sure she knows that.” Y/n whispered to him.

Jin’s smile was tight. “I hope so.”

Y/n sniffled, wiping at her eyes. Letting a moment of tranquil quiet pass over them to give Jin the space he seemed to want. “So, what’s her favorite?” When Jin just tiled his head at her, she pointed to the guitar. “Does she like anything specific?”

“Well I can’t exactly play the SpiceGirls so her favorites are off the table.” Jin laughed softly, and Y/n found herself joining in. “But uh…she hasn’t told me what she likes. To be honest she hasn’t told me anything in a while. For all I know she could hate when I play and I’m just pissing her off.”

“Woah–what language from you!” Y/n teased, causing him to blush again. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

He rolled his eyes to the sky and shrugged. “I don’t care if you do.”

Y/n nudged him with her shoulder. “I don’t think she hates it, if she did she wouldn’t have been begging for you.”

“That’s true…” Jin trailed off, fingers hovering over the strings, sounding far off in his head. He idly plucked the same Nocturne as before, this time slower and almost uncertain in its rhythm. She listened, counting the flickering stars and imagining that her sister was there alongside them, sitting in the sand and looking at the same sky.

The music abruptly came to a stop. “I’m sorry, did you say that your dad thought she was you?”

“Yeah…Why?” Y/n opened the eyes she didn’t even know she had closed to peer curiously at him. “Didn’t you know?”

“No–I just knew it was him. I never got to see anything, I got Hoseok out of there before she made him touch her bed.” Jin shook his head, his brows furrowing. “I’m having trouble wrapping my head around him mistaking his own daughters. Maybe if he was a father otherwise not involved–but not your dad. Your dad was so invested in you guys…”

“I just assumed it was because it was dark, or becasue he was possessed.” Y/n answered. “But now that you mention it, he would’ve been able to tell our voices apart instantly. And we slept in different beds that he helped build…”

Jin nibbled on his lower lip, his fingers tapping on the strings. “Y/n…Do you think ghosts can pretend to be someone else?”

Y/n gasped, looking to him with bulging eyes. “I do. In fact I know they can. Do you think…?”

“I don’t know. But somehow your dad was able to be two places at once that night, and so was Matilda.”

“Matilda?”

“Yeah,” Jin gulped. “That night when I heard her voice around when it would have happened–we saw her in her bed later. But I don’t think it was her.”

Chapter Text

“What’s our ETA?” Taehyung curled his hand around the headrest of Y/n’s seat, head poking out over the console to look between her and Jungkook.  

Jungkook’s hand clenched the wheel a little tighter. “Same as before.”  

 Y/n snickered to herself, content with watching the greenery grow thicker. It was starting to feel like home–in a stomach twisting kind of way.  

“Don’t get irritated with me! Mr. Grumpy pants is asking again.” Taehyung slunk out from view, tucking himself into his seat with a huff.  

Y/n held her hand up and made a ‘gimmie’ motion, satisfied when the plastic of the walkie slapped against her palm. She held it up to her mouth with the buttons squeezed, speaking into it with just a dash of authority. “Mr. Grumpy-Pants, are you there? Over.”  

Static shot out from the speaker. “I told you all to stop calling me that.”  

“And yet you keep answering to it. Funny how that works, over.” Y/n and Taehyung shared a look through the rearview mirror.  

The end of Yoongi’s curses could be heard through the start of static, choosing to ignore her comment entirely. “Well, Menace Caravan, what is it that you all want from me?”  

“Stop bothering us, Taehyung said you keep bugging him for the time.” Y/n answered.  

“Apologies for trying to stay up to date. You three are terrible at giving regular updates.”  

A new voice joined in through the speaker. “And you’re terrible with your radio manners. Over.”  

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize the grammar police was also the radio police.” Came Yoongi’s reply, dripping with sarcasm. “How about this–Mr. Grumpy pants to the Nerd Brigade and Menace Caravan, I hope you all remember I’m the equivalent of your boss today. So be nice to me. Over.”  

“I am being nice to you!” Y/n cried defiantly into the speaker.  

“Hmmm. I’ll be the judge of that. How come no one yells at you for not saying it?” There was a small pause. “Now what’s your ETA? Over." 

“Because she’s trying her best. And I’m not even trying to be nice to you,” Jimin’s voice fluttered over Y/n’s. “Consider it payback for what you did to me this morning, over”  

“For the last time–I didn’t know you were saving that bagel for the road. Over.”  

“And I didn’t know you were in charge. Nerd Brigade, ETA 4pm, Over and Out.”  

Y/n took this as her opportunity to answer Yoongi’s request before he could make another snarky remark. “We are set to get to the property by 3:53pm. Same as last time.”  

“Huh. Funny.” Yoongi replied haughtily.  

Y/n pursed her lips. “What?” 

“If I remember correctly, last time he stated your arrival time was 3:58pm. Looks like it’s a good thing I asked. Over.”  

“You’re so annoying.” Y/n chewed on her tongue to keep from using too much of an attitude; it’d only egg him on if she did. “Keep your nose to yourself unless it’s important, boss man. Menace Caravan, over and out.” She chucked the machine into the backseat and slipped Jungkook a sly grin. “Petal to the metal. I wanna bother him just a little more.” Jungkook’s lip twitched up just a smidge, and the dial on the speedometer climbed a few notches above the speed limit.  

Green leaves with their tips dipped in yellow blew past, her thoughts getting lost in the never-ending white lines and bright green exit signs. Jungkook’s hand interlaced with hers on the leather console kept her grounded enough to feel the car slowing, and the winding two-lane roads grow in length and dwindle in width. Their curves burned deep into her memory.  

They were home.  

Kind of.  

Jungkook let the car sit idle in the historical society parking lot, the rumble a constant reminder that they were here again, that it wasn’t some dream she would wake up from at any moment. It was strange, the intertwining of fear and tenacity battling it out in steady heart beats and shaking hands.  

Bravery is not the absence of fear, she reminds herself, looking off towards the bend before the gates, where so many feelings waited for her to address. She imagined her sister standing at them. Envisioned her eyes full of terror and her hands desperate and wet. Bravery was the urge to run up to the property on foot with nothing but her bare hands and sheer willpower to shove everyone out of her way that tried to stop her, despite feeling like her chest might cave in when she saw all of her friends walk through the front doors again.  

“We parked in the lot, waiting on you to engage.” Jungkook’s steady tone updated the rest of the group, walkie close to his mouth, staring purposefully at the door. “We already have company.”  

Y/n whipped her head to the front entrance, her vining spiritual sensors she had been working over the past few weeks to reconnect with stretching out to it, a weak pulse emanating back to her. “Who?”  

“Stay in your vehicle. Hoseok and I will be there in eight minutes.” Yoongi answered, his playfulness gone.  

Jungkook blinked at her, lifting one finger to point to one of the tall windows. “The fire lady. In the window.”  

“Great,” Y/n replied sarcastically. “Just the ‘warm’ welcome I wanted.”  

“Jesus Christ...” Taehyung slumped in his seat, then resolved himself with a shrug. “Well, at least we can all talk to each other this time. Having him awake is already an improvement.”  

“Tell me about it,” Y/n snickered just as the walkie lit up, anticipation making her jittery.  

“Jimin and I are pulling up the hill, over.” Namjoon’s voice buzzed through the speaker.  

The speaker chittered again. “Fucking hell. Did all of you speed just to prove a point? Wait until we get there. No funny business, I mean it.”  

Jimin’s jeep slid into the empty spot next to them and cut the engine; the passenger window left half open to communicate through. Namjoon leant his head out the window, squinting at the low hanging sun. “How are you all holding up?”  

“Fine.” Y/n answered quickly. “Impatient, that’s all.”  

Namjoon gave her a knowing look. “I get it, just stay in the car until the rest of us get here-”  

His words fell on deaf ears. The invisible vines of her morning glories twanged as though someone had plucked it like the string of a harp, and it almost ached–like hitting your funny bone on solid wood. She felt the touch. Heard the laughter that followed, childlike and twittery. On instinct, she grabbed for Jungkook’s hand again and squeezed, her senses retracting inwards to twine around him for comfort.  

His eyes tracked up his forearms like he could see her spiritual outreach crawling up his skin, immediately taking note of her shift in demeanor. A flicker of her sister could be seen standing outside the car upon their connection, black holes for eyes and a grin too impish to be her own. She’d seen enough.  

Maybe she lied to Namjoon about being fine. Maybe she’d lied to herself too. Because one glimpse of her sister standing on the property, infected with MADness and inhumane set her off. Not with fear but an all-consuming rage. For even with tar for eyes and rotted flesh flecked with black ichor – that was her sister.  And right now, she was alone with on the pavement, vulnerable to the demonic woman stalking them from behind the glass.  

Her feet hit the gravel harder than she intended, and she ignored Namjoon’s poor exclamations of distress and the sound of Jungkook’s door slamming shut after her.  

“Do you want to play a game, Gänse?” Y/n addressed the space where her sister had been, the air charged with energy. “We are all going to play.”  

“She’s interested.” Jimin appeared around the back of the car, winded from his haste, pulling open Taehyung’s car door while he passed it. “I guess we are getting out.”  

“It’s like a game of tag meets capture the flag. Against them-” She gestured to the historical building, “-except you’re on our team.”  

“Oh–wonderful! Asking the demonic sister to join us. Why not?” Taehyung got to his feet, twisting back to grab the duffle bag of supplies assigned for their vehicle.  

Namjoon came veering around the car like a disapproving parent, their bag strapped over his shoulder bouncing with each step. “Are you serious right now? She could decide to rip our throats out or jump for Bear at any second.”  

“Very.” Y/n shrugged them off, trying her best to follow the floating ball of energy that was her sister. “Ignore them, they’re being meanies. What do you say? You wanna be on our team?”  

Jungkook’s hand slipped in hers, and just like they’d been practicing the past few weeks, she wrapped her energy around him, opening herself up to him and his energy that flowed through the open dam readily. Her sister came back into view (albeit just a faint outline as they were still honing this kind of exchange, but she was visible nonetheless).  

Matilda seemed confused, glowering up to her through furrowed brows with heated indecision.  

“I want you to be on our team. You belong on our team.” Y/n affirmed, taking a step closer.  

Instead of stopping her, Jungkook followed her lead, always staying in line. “Me too.”  

Matilda looked to Jimin, black eyes glaring through him and mouth moving in silent question.  

Jimin looked to the side, out of focus, listening. “I...I supposed I agree. Namjoon–she wants you to answer.”  

Namjoon pursed his lips, scanning each of their faces and stopping on Y/n’s. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”  

“Honestly? No. But I’m sure it feels right.” She matched his intensity with honesty.  

Namjoon sighed, shrugging off his duffle bag and propping it on the back of Jungkook’s car and sinking his arm elbow deep in his search. “Fine. But I want to try something first.” His hand reappeared clasped around two small pouches, his other hand reaching in to snatch another. He held them up in front of them all, following their line of sight to Matilda’s general vicinity and crouching down.  

“Matilda, I know at first contact these might feel or smell funny, but do you like one of these more than the other? Maybe the smell, or the color. This-” He shook each pouch individually, “-is rose petals, rosemary, and basil buds. Whichever one you like, I’ll give you.”  

There was a pause before Jimin spoke up. “She said she prefers the rose petals.”  

“Okay then,” Namjoon grunted as he came to a stand. “Rose petals it is.” He took a healthy pinch from the pouch and turned back to the duffle bag to fish out a smaller, pink, mesh bag to drop them into, pulling it closed and tying it off. “I offer this to you Matilda, a gift so you can match the team. Try and give it a second chance if you don’t like it at first.”  

Y/n held her breath as Matilda’s translucent hand grabbed for it, an identical see through version appearing in her own as she pulled away from the one that still rested in Namjoon’s hand. Matilda turned it over, hesitantly bringing it to her nose and giving it a whiff. At first she snarled, recoiling from it with a hiss. But with one trepid glance to Namjoon, she reluctantly heeded his guidance and gave it a second try.  

Seconds passed. Jungkook’s feet were staggards and on the offense, Jimin’s lips were pressed in a thin line with his arm braced on the car door handle, and Taehyung looked on edge – completely blind to what was transpiring. Each one of them on edge for whatever her response might be.  

She took the pouch away from her nose after three long drags of its scent, slipping her tiny wrist into one of the ribbon loops and wearing it like a bracelet. If Y/n didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn the lines of rot that webbed down her cheeks thinned to wisps, and her skin looked less papery.  

“She likes it.” Jungkook narrated for Namjoon just as Yoongi’s car came swerving into the lot, not even bothering to line itself into an actual parking spot.  

His door slammed, and with his own backpack draped over one shoulder he stalked over with an accusatory finger aimed at all of them. “What did I say? No funny business. Stay in the car. And look at you all – standing around like a bunch of middle-schoolers on a field trip.” He stopped abruptly; gaze pulled to where Matilda was. “What the fuck is this?”  

“She’s on our team. She wants to play.” Y/n moved to the open bag, grabbing her assigned flashlight. “Be nice to her.” Inside the bag was a rolled-up piece of black cloth tied with twine, which she undid with careful hands. A blade–her blade–fell heavy into her palm. The handle felt rough against her skin from the metal chains of the snapped necklace used to adorn it. She gave it a squeeze. It stung to hold it again. But it was the sting she needed for what was to come. The pain is a source of fuel to burn. She looked to her friends over her shoulder.  

“C’mon. Jin and my mother will be here soon. Suit up so we can get started.” Y/n then looked to where her sister had been. “I’ll explain the rules to the ‘game’...” 

The eight of them circled Jungkook’s car while she did just that; bags ripped open like empty pelts, colored pouches housing Namjoon’s protection charms tied to their wrists like Matilda had done, and pockets stuffed to the brim with their assigned tools. The mission was simple: take back the entire historical society and designate it as their ‘headquarters’. It was time they take back all of what was theirs – not just a handful of rooms they’d have to scurry to and from. 

 Jimin would be at the front, guiding their group forward with precision as he knew the ins and outs of this building like the back of his hand and had all the keys (literally) dangling from his fingertips.  His ears used to communicate effectively between their defensive teams and offensive teams. Taehyung was on the offensive line, in charge of spiritually cleansing space as they went with the logs of garden sage and rosemary lining his jean pockets and lighter clenched between his teeth.  

The rest of their offensive line would work from the Paralrealm, consisting of Y/n with her knife, Bear with his handgun, and Jungkook with all the nifty perks that came with being a psychopomp. Once each room was clear, Namjoon and Yoongi would come in as two thirds of their defensive team and lock it down with enough wards to threaten any unwanted spirit within a twenty-mile radius. 

Step one would be getting through the door and dropping Hoseok off at Jimin’s office, taking defense over their home base and Jungkook and Y/n’s bodies. Which meant getting past the fiery woman and whoever else waited for them on the other side of the door.  

“Remember, stay on alert, and stick together.” Yoongi reminded the group for the tenth time, his bag secured on both shoulders. “Ready?” 

“More than ever.” Y/n rolled some of the tension from her shoulders and settled herself with a deep breath. “Gänse, stick close to us. I’ll see you soon, okay? We are trusting you.”  

“Let’s hope that doesn’t bite us in the ass,” Hoseok muttered to himself, scooping up the remaining bags and hoisting them over his shoulder.  

Jimin wore his distaste for Hoseok’s complaints openly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. That’s not the energy this group needs.” He clenched the key to the front in his fist, setting his sights on the entrance. “On three?”  

“On three.” Yoongi parroted. “One.”  

Y/n turned the knife over in her fist as time began to slow.  

“Two.”  

She could feel the temperature of her friends' bodies rising, and Bear’s energy crackled like lightning near them.  

“Three.” 

 

 

 

_________________________________________ 

 

 

 

Taehyung struck the first bundle, wafts of herbal smoke curling around them and stretching outwards towards the building. Jungkook moved next, the smoke clinging to him like a protective shroud to stand aside the door while Jimin jammed the key in, twisting until it gave way.  

There was no hesitation as the door swung open, Taehyung waving a fresh puff of smoke in the entrance that sent the energy into a crazed frenzy that nipped at their skin like ice and sank it’s teeth in their nerves, sending them on high alert.  

The battle had begun.  

“She’s still on the second floor.” Jungkook informed birskly.  

“Then let’s seize the opportunity and run!” Jimin gave them little time to react, taking off at full speed through the entrance room and into the main circular exhibit. All of them followed, streaking across the polished floors in a blur.  

“They’re coming from the east hall!” Jungkook shouted above the loud storm of rubber soles, making a point to lag towards the back to cover them.  

Taehyung spun on his heels, frantically wafting the steady stream of smoke towards the hall of uniforms with his hands as he ran, keeping a wall of it between their group and that area. They made it to the grand hall before Jimin’s office without any interruption, but of course their desired location would be predictable.  

Jungkook warned them a second too late.  

Jimin was launched across the floor, sliding across the tile as though it was made of ice, barely managing to gather his bearings enough to come to a rolling halt before his head collided with the wall. Y/n was next, the invisible spirit’s wide hands curling around her upper arms and lifting her straight off the ground.  

She swung her knife frantically, the blade sailing through the air and missing each time. She couldn’t stop the panic coursing through her veins enough to get a grasp on her senses, not a single hit landing on her invisible attacker. Either she needed to gather her intentions, or the spirits had also come back with new tricks up their sleeve.  

And then she was on the ground, air squished from her lungs upon collision and nose centimeters away from a pair of bright orange and green sneakers. Hoseok, who had been closest to her, splayed both hands and shoved her attacker back with enough force to shake her loose. Hoseok looked as surprised as her, eyes wide as he looked at his palms. Neither of them had time to soak in the moment, for she was lugged to her feet by Namjoon and swung in a race to Jimin’s office door with Hoseok not far behind.  

“I got them, keep them away from Bear!” Namjoon bellowed back to Jungkook, who was already trying to blaze a way towards them.  

The hall was a whirlwind of energy and squeaking sneakers. Unseen, but it had a weight of unbearable pressure worse than any mountain road could offer. In the blurry seconds it took to get to where Jimin waved them urgently into his office, her eardrums ached with the need to release some of it. She counted heads as they tumbled in after her, not daring to breathe until Jungkook rounded up the rear, slamming the door closed with his back pressed to it for good measure.  

Yoongi gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, sliding the strap of his bag down his arm to pull out a hand labeled jar of mixed herbs and black salt. “Good job, kid. Keep watch. Looks like they were just as prepared as we were.” He brushed passed Hoseok, slapping the jar into his chest to scramble for. “And you, Mida’s touch huh? Hold onto this for a sec.” Namjoon followed him immediately into action, taking both ends of one of the sofas near the bookcases and moving it up against the table to make way for the massive ring of ground herbs and salt they sprinkled around the rug.  

Y/n’s attention was cut off by a cloud of fresh smoke that she promptly choked on. “Jesus!” She waved some of it away from her face, Taehyung’s dramatic flick of his wrist only coating her in more of it. “What are you doing?”  

He shrugged, continuing his ministrations. “I don’t know. It touched you. Figured it wouldn’t hurt.”  

“Don’t waste my good shit!” Yoongi hissed. “Give the room a good perimeter. Just to clear out anything stagnant since we’ve been gone.”  

Taehyung saluted him with his free hand, gathering some of the ashes building up on his skin with his index finger and dabbing it playfully onto her nose. “I declare you clean.”  

Y/n giggled, swatting his hand away and giving him a light shove into the center of the room. “Get to work, pretty boy.”  

The moment of humor was short lived when she caught sight of Jimin that had been hidden behind him. Slouched into one of his desk chairs with his arm encircling the small of his own waist, wincing.  

“Shit!’ She slid across the floor onto her knees to take him in, grabbing his cheeks and lifting his face up to get a good look at it. His left cheek was a bit red, and it looked like he had bitten into his lip when he had been tossed, but nothing damning that she could see. Her hands shook as they pried his palm from his side to find it clean, without any traces of blood in sight.  

“I’m alright. Just a little sore.” He reassured her softly, twisting the wrist she held hostage to grab for her hand. “Stay focused. We don’t need you getting too distracted, okay?”  

Namjoon stood tall, garnering their attention immediately. “The circle is ready when you are.”  

Y/n looked to Jungkook over her shoulder. “Ready?”  

“Ready.” He nodded down to her stiffly.  

Thank the heavens for Namjoon, really. His tea made the transition so smooth she hadn’t even realized her eyes had drooped closed, and her forehead hit the firm muscle of Jungkook’s shoulder. She’d have to thank him again whenever the situation allowed them.  

Y/n blinked, the faint sheen of cobweb like fog so familiar yet so jarring. She willed herself not to think of the last time she had left her body behind to complete some kind of mission – because now she could see Jungkook’s body safe and wrapped around her own, and her friends moving freely about the room with purpose. She wasn’t alone this time to start, and that made the journey easier. Their voices were still a bit fuzzy, Jimin’s energy still creeping in.  

Over their faint drone, Bear grinned at her from his stance behind the couch. “Welcome back, Entlein. Pleasure seeing you here.”  

“How bad is it?” Y/n asked, acknowledging Jungkook as he came to behind her. Snakes of black smoke smoothing over her skin in a drowsy greeting. 

Bear clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Have you ever seen a family of angry mountain lions?”  

“No.” Y/n eyed him suspiciously. “Have you?”  

His lips curled up in a mischievous grin. “That’s a story for another time.” His expression was wiped clean upon the arrival of the looming figure behind her, tutting a low whistle. “What we would have given to have you on our side back in the day. Your strength is palpable.” 

Jungkook shifted where he stood, a small, nervous smile crinkling the edges of his marbled white eyes. “Thanks.” 

 “Don’t panic about anything they say and try to avoid talking over them. We just need you here and focused.” Yoongi handed Hoseok his walkie, voice finally cutting through with clarity. “Which room feels the worst right now?”  

Hoseok sat criss-cross in front of their bodies, back pressed to the couch and blueprint map overlaid his knees. He pressed his hand flat to the floor, eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. y/n sensed his disturbance. Sensed the pulse of his energy flying through the floorboards in his search. He smacked his finger down on the map, eyes flying open. “The hallway, and the library.”  

“Perfect. Are they ready Jimin?”  

The man in question waited, eyes cast towards the floor. His telltale sign he was listening.  

“We are.” Jungkook answered on her behalf. “Give Y/n her knife.”  

“Her knife–” Jimin pointed to the weapon discarded next her on the floor. His sentence wasn’t even complete before Yoongi kicked it closer to her.  

“Here you go, sweetheart. Do your worst and tear those fuckers to shreds.”  

“Flattering and eloquent as always.” Jimin rolled his eyes, hanging the keys around his neck as he stood.  

Y/n swooped down, picking up the spirit of the blade and the energy Yoongi had sent with it. Adrenaline. Protection. Admiration. And something else that kicked her into high gear, her soul soaring through the air with the unnamed energy of his that lingered on the handle like the feel of fresh summer rain upon hot skin. 

She spun it, catching it easily. “Don’t worry, his feelings speak loud enough.”  

Jimin cooed teasingly, pinching Yoongi’s cheek as he passed by. “How sweet~”  

“Cut it out!” Yoongi smacked it away, flushing with embarrassment. “What? I didn’t say anything. What are you three gossiping about?” To cover his flustered state, he became quite interested in how to walkie was positioned on his jacket.  

“You tell us.” Jimin shrugged, gripping the door handle with one hand.  

They crowded around him, their banter disintegrating with the oncoming fresh wave of anxiety for what waited for them on the other side. And then the door was open, leaving them with nothing but the rooms perimeter to keep them apart.  

It was as though the sun was standing on the other end of the hall, splattering orange light across the reflective floors that stretched out with gnarled hands and blinking eyes towards them. The hallway felt more like an oven, intent on roasting them alive to serve to whomever was making the order. She was just as tall as Y/n remembered; all charcoal black limbs with fire that veined around each limb and climbed her neck, dripping from her mouth in tongues of flame that licked the air.  

On her left was Duane, a head shorter yet equally as enraged. His was still missing from their last interaction, a fact that had Y/n’s lip curling with the taste of victory. To her right was her great aunt Dot, her lolling head and snapping jaws more reminiscent of a zombie than a ghost. Y/n’s victorious smile fell, for a figure cloaked in shadow left them outnumbered in terms of Paralrealm offense.  

“There’s four of them, three of us.” Bear relayed through the walkie, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He cocked the lever of the hand gun, nozzle pointed to the floor. “My brother. My niece. A woman on fire. And...” He scrutinized the dark figure, from the top of his head, down his lanky torso, and to the legs that stood uneven and bowlegged. “My father. Leon.”  

“Leon Wörner,” Jungkook repeated the name, his voice vibrating through Y/n’s bones and shaking her soul with its command. “Show yourself to me.”  

The black shadow trembled, dripping down the contours of a crooked, lifeless grin and boney shoulders that looked too flat. His cloak of obscurity fell further, and Y/n winced. His shoulders looked too flat because they didn’t connect to a chest–but the backs of his shoulder blades, for his head had been twisted entirely around.  

“Three against four.” Y/n remarked, swallowing down the acid taste on her tongue at the sight. “We’ve had worse.”  

“We are still here,” Yoongi reasoned, though the nervous lick of his lips gave him away. “Mostly blind but we aren’t going to just sit here and look pretty.”  

“Watch out for her.” Jungkook nudged Y/n, gesturing to the wall beside the door.  

Matilda sat hunched on all fours, a low growl emitting through barred teeth. She looked ready to pounce–and she was close. Just waiting outside the door for their first step. Their eyes met, and it felt as though time had stopped, and the standstill felt like a dream.  

“Please,” she begged, broken and quiet. “You’re supposed to be on our team, remember?”  

Matilda’s growls grew louder, threatening her next move. Y/n took half a step across the threshold, hand out to rest on her shoulder. Then she pounced.  

Her teeth sank into Duane’s exposed jugular, ripping the thin straps of muscle clean off and tossing them to the floor where they melted into a puddle of black ooze.  

All hell broke loose.  

Smoke filled the hall, thick enough to permeate into the land of the living. Snarls and hisses battled for attention over the sound of Bear’s merciless gunfire clanging against molten rock. Matilda was thrown off, launched back across the hall towards them, her claws leaving streaks along the marble floors all the way until she stopped at Y/n’s feet, black blood dripping from her chin. Jungkook had darted forwards to block Leon’s swing, landing a punch to his cheek that sent his head spinning.  

Taehyung launched a small fabric pouch into the air, the ends burning inwards until it exploded over their heads in a cloud of purple and gold tinted smoke that clashed with the gray, eating it up and devouring it until their side rained with color, blocking her view of Jungkook and Bear. The spirits choked on it, slowing their motions and their attacks like poison. He disappeared into the smoke with Yoongi and Namjoon close behind, their hands full.  

“God will not spare you. He will wipe you and your memory from this place. Is that what you wish?” Duane crept through the smoke, twisting down to tower over Matilda.  

“I don’t want to be on his team anymore.” Matilda looked up to him, the black of her eyes running like water down her cheeks, voice trapped between normal and hoarse. “He lied!”  

Duane bellowed like a train whistle, for Matilda’s long claws cleaved though his face and left divots in the cheekbones, nicking his eyes that burst upon contact, dribbling down his cheeks and spraying Y/n with hot tar that sizzled on contact. He lashed his boney hands out to grab her, and Matilda just managed to leap out of the way in time. 

Fierce was the hold of Y/n’s protective instinct, in three quick strides Y/n had swung herself on his back; arms wrapped around his weeping throat with the tip of her blade pressed into his neck. In Duane’s desperate claw for his blinded eyes, he knocked it from her hand, bone scraping against her forearms and wrists to free himself. Matilda brought him to his knees with a timely slash to his middle, which he returned with a blow of his own that sent her sprawling.  

“That’s my sister you fucking piece of shit!” She dug her fingers into the empty eye sockets and pulled up with all of her might.  Cords of muscle tore like weak threads, snapping in two like an over worn rope. With an audible tear, his head came off his shoulders in a jagged rain of black tar and shredded tissue. His body slumped out from beneath her, his head dangling like a bowling ball from her fingers.   

“I’d never forget her. No matter what.” Y/n spat down to the dripping carcass, every cell in her body buzzing with adrenaline.  

Through the haze she could see Yoongi and Namjoon running along the edges of the main room, following the clouds of smoke Taehyung lit. Yoongi cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered from the other side. “The room is locked down, so they can’t run! Light ‘em up!”  

Y/n spun on her heel to find her next target. Jungkook had Leon’s head squeezed between to hands, pressing inwards until it exploded, the rest of his body melting like a candle after it. Bear had managed to knock both arms off the woman, but they were already growing back in the short time it took for him to reload. She was coming onto him, an alacritous beast from hell fixed on dragging him down with her. And she was close, Bear struggling to keep distance from both her and Dot. 

Taehyung was catapulting pouch after pouch over them, dancing just out of distance on nimble feet. Y/n watched each one, planting her feet down and sending her vines back through the office door, passing Jimin who awaited further command and finding Hoseok still seated where they had left him; his hand pressed to the floor and searching for them. Her vines wound up him like a ladder, leeching energy from him that he readily gave. The next pouch sailed over head, and she leapt into the air, catching it in one fist with a victorious shout.  

“Bear, get down!”   

Bear listened, falling to a crouch instantly to leave her the perfect window.  

With the pouch stuffed into the lax throat, she hurled the head through the air with all her might, using her rage as fuel. The woman didn’t have time to move, blinded and weighed down by Taehyung’s smoke, and the head slammed into her chest and exploded upon impact, shattering a hole straight through it that swallowed her in purple smoke and golden flecks from the inside out.  

She crumbled to the floor with a bone chilling shriek. Nothing but a paste of ash and ichor that seeped into the floorboards was left of her.  

Bear whirled around, barrel pointed straight for Dorothy–and he hesitated. She staggered closer, not much of a threat for she was already slow moving before the onslaught of smoked herbs and witchcraft. She stepped forwards, one foot after the other in a slow drag. Her head lolled to one side, giving him a good look at her face that was torn and tainted with rot.  

“Dottie can you hear me?”  

She stayed on her path, haggard and unmoved.  

The gun shook in his fist. “You can stop this. Look, the child did. Just look at me. Look at me, okay?”  

Dorothy groaned, hands straining to grab hold of him. A mindless want.  

“I love you, Dottie. Remember that.” He pulled the trigger, and she fell into nothing. 

“Hall and main dome is clear. We are headed to the library now.” Yoongi mumbled urgently into the walkie, shrugging his way down another wide hall lined with rounded vintage bulbs instead of windows. Keen eyes reading the room to give Bear the space he needed to get up. 

Namjoon trailed after him, taking more fabric pouches from his bag and stuffing them in Taehyung’s hands. “Don’t go too crazy. These were supposed to be used sparingly in between bundles.”  

“I like these more than the bundles.” Taehyung tossed one up in the air and caught it, weighing it in his palm. “Definitely more effective.”  

“They were pretty sick.” Y/n commented from behind, hoping the walkie would pick up her voice. “How’d you get them to turn those colors?”  

 Namjoon’s expression pinched downwards. “Colors?”  

“Yeah. They were purple and gold.” She fell in step next to him, even though she knew he wouldn’t see her.  

“Huh.” Namjoon pondered her response, following Yoongi and Jimin down the right-handed hall. “It must be some kind of combination of spiritual properties. To us it just looked...like smoke.”  

Y/n hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder if it’s you. Like your energy. I’ve never seen color on any of your other tools before. Except for the bullets.”  

“Well, I didn’t make the recipe for these, believe it or not. This was something Yoongi concocted.”  

Y/n stole a glance at Yoongi’s back, watching the way he communed softly with Jimin. “Makes sense I guess.”  She made a mental note to ask him what the color purple meant to him when things calmed down.  

As the doors to the library closed in on them, she fell back in step with Jungkook and her sister, keeping ahead of Bear who had gone unusually quiet in the back. Her tiny hand slipped into hers and gave it a gentle tug, sending tingles straight up her arms and around the back of her head.  

“Was I cool too, Ente?”  

Y/n tipped her chin to gaze down at her, her complexion gaining more life and her eyes wide and clear, free from the dark hold they used to carry. She squeezed her hand tighter. “The coolest.”  

Jimin shoved is key into the lock, jiggling it a few times. He muttered to himself something about missed maintenance requests and gave it a few more tries. Jungkook intertwined their fingers momentarily, wiping the black blood off her hands with his shirt, then with a moment’s thought, he hesitantly brought it to his lips to brush them over it. It was feather light in its promise, but it reminded her that he was there, and that he had her back. Reminded her of how far they had come.  

“Got it!” Jimin’s shoulders dropped in relief as the lock finally clicked; the brown oak double doors swinging open upon command. Their moment of refuge was shattered upon their obedience.  

Bear whipped the revolver up and pulled the trigger before she could even see what he was shooting at. The bullet burrowing deep into the chest of a blacked-out shadow figure that doubled over, a burning ring of gold rippling from the wound that whittled him to nothing but a cloud of dust.  

“Ward the hallway first–let us clear them out first. Block the exits.” Bear instructed, his tone short and void of emotion. It was in moments like this that she was reminded that he was a soldier, not just a youthful vision of her eccentric distant uncle.  

He led the way through the grandiose shelves lined up with more books than one person could probably read in their lifetime; his weapon like the nose of a hunting dog, sniffing out each passage with teeth barred to bite. The ceiling was lofted like the main room, a second floor with only thousands more words tucked in jewel-toned leather staring down at them from all sides. 

In the center of the next row sat her grandmother, on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her, staring off at the titles across from her without any recognition. She shifted to look at them, her heinous grin never failing to make her breath hitch.  

“Entlein, have you come to finally join me? I’ve missed you so much–please don’t leave me again!” She crawled closer to them, her attempt to rise thwarted by the press of Bear’s gun to her temple.  

“Move and I shoot.”  

“How could you?” A shuddering breath escaped her, followed by a feeble cry. “I trusted you. He trusted-” Margaret cut herself off, a panic-stricken look crossing her features and landing stuck there, fighting the smile she couldn’t rid herself of. “Where is my husband? He went to get you?” She glowered to Bear. “What have you done to him?”  

“What I promised to do to you if this ever happened.”  

“Wait!” Jungkook lurched forwards to stop him, but he was a second too late. The bullet ripped through her temple, painting the shelves with the last of her conscienceless. Y/n’s mouth went sour as a rush of saliva accumulated in her cheeks. And though she had no stomach to empty, she still clamped her hand over her mouth like she did, unable to look away from her body until it melted into the carpeted floors.  

Bear looked grim, lips pressed into a thin line. “We must finish clearing the room. I’m afraid the breakfast you all offered me is starting to wain. I’m feeling quite tired.” He brushed past her, offering her a quick squeeze off the shoulder as he did, the only comfort he had it in him to offer.  

They crept through each row, climbed the spiral stairs and circled the second landing, but there was no sign of anyone. Still, even as they called in for Yoongi and Namjoon to enter, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they were wrong. Perhaps someone was lurking just behind them or crawling between shelves before they could catch a glimpse of them. And if the look she shared Jungkook meant anything, she was right.  

He was uneasy, swiveling to skim his pearlescent eyes over each nook and cranny, ech book cover and embellished chair.  

“Library is clear, but proceed with caution.” Bear spoke evenly into the walkie. “Someone is still here. Over.” He paused, taking in a measured breath and releasing it through an open mouth. Then he started back for the stairs, treading each one carefully. “We will each take one of them. Jungkook, take Matilda with you. Just in case.”  

Yoongi’s sneakers squeaked just outside the door, sounding out of breath as he mumbled to Namjoon about which side of the room to take. Y/n took up her stance behind him, trailing after him as he dipped his fingertips in oil and drew sigils along the walls. Taehyung swiftly walked the perimeter with Bear hot on his tail, the two of the disappearing behind a few of the shelves. Jungkook herded Matilda after Namjoon and Jimin, the two of them stopping every few seconds while they dropped a new line of black salt. It was quiet. And that set her on edge.  

Bear’s gun went off, jolting her from her guarded stance. She whirled around, finding Jungkook looking as startled as her, but no Bear. She ran blindly through the shelves, following the thin wisps of smoke towards the flash of Bear’s green jacket she caught on the second landing. She took them two at a time, coming to the top just to see him shoved against the shelves; his gun dropped on the floor out of reach. Taehyung was oblivious to it, already on the other side of the landing, out of dangers way.  

Patty had him pinned between herself and the books in a struggle for control. His hands pushing against her face, her shoulder–anything he could possibly land a grip on that wasn’t her snapping jaws and clawing hands.  

“Bear, catch!” Y/n plucked the gun from the floor and tossed it to him, which he caught gratefully.  

His hands trembled as they cocked the next shot, his heels digging into the floor to keep himself upright. Bear crumpled before her eyes, whimpering continuously as he lined the barrel under Patty’s chin. It became apparent as seconds passed, that he was not whimpering idly in sorrow, but he was humming. The melody so soft and sweet, trickling out from her memory of the two of them alone in the study–a memory that he had shown her.  

It did nothing to stop Patty’s crazed thirst for his flesh between her teeth. If anything it spurred her on, and when she caught the side of his hand in her mouth as it swung to hold her at a distance, she bit straight through it, ripping his little finger and a sizable chunk of flesh with it. Bear pulled the trigger on instinct, screaming both in pain and horror as it lodged in her throat and jerked her backwards.  

He followed her to the floor, huddling over her body as she gurgled out disjointed syllables that bubbled out through the pool of blood that flooded her mouth. For a moment, as he cried over her, caressing her cheek as she started to wither, Y/n could have sworn that if only for a second –her eyes took on a lovely shade of brown. But then she was gone, following the same path her grandmother had taken through the carpet. Saturated the room with a cloud of mourning that erupted from Bear.  

His breathing was labored. It felt wrong to see him cry, the tears that streamed down his cheeks a sight that she couldn’t compute. And when he looked at her, she felt her heart stop from rooms away.  

The veins beneath his skin fluttered with a pulse of his own, protruding through the skin. Darkness filled his veins, creeping up from his hands and spidering up his forearms, winding round his neck like a noose beneath his skin. 

He unclasped the walkie talkie from his shoulder with unsteady hands and beckoned Y/n closer. She fell to her knees in front of him, her eyes burning, shaking her head uncontrollably.  

“No. Bear, no! Jungkook is-Jungkook is coming and maybe he can do something. Anything.” Her vision blurred. She couldn’t breathe.  

He took her hand and dropped the walkie in her palm, forcing her fingers to close around it with his hand. “Take this and finish the job. I know you can, Entlein. You are all just as amazing as I expected you to be.”  

 “Jungkook! Hurry!” She screamed back down, knowing it was futile for he was already running. She could hear him, just not close enough.  

Bear turned his face to the ceiling, the darkness coursing up through his cheeks, centimeters away from his eyes.  “Ich werde nicht so sein wie du. Ich weigere mich.” He notched the nozzle under his chin and squeezed the trigger.  

Y/n was trapped there. Trapped in the sticky feeling of Bear’s blood against her cheeks that had congealed black on her skin. A reminder of what had happened each time she breathed. Of what he had become. Each time she tried to stop the sobs that escaped her mouth it stretched and pulled on her. She just wanted to maul it off with her bare hands. 

Whoever was pulling the strings had a cruel heart and a sick mind, for the building felt so utterly empty now. A move more heartless than any, leaving her to mourn and grieve uncontrollably like a child. Humiliating and dehumanizing all at once. Maybe she was the M.A.D spirit now, wandering through the halls like the ghost of a fable, wishing her enemies would show their faces so she could blast them to smithereens.  

Jungkook found her dazed and coated in what was left of Bear, her hands soaked in tar from trying to dig him back up from the floor. He had been the only person in her family she had left.  

“Ente? What happened Ente?” Matilda’s cold hands squished her cheeks together. “Why are you sad? He’ll be back. I know it.”  

Y/n choked out a pitiful sound, looking up to her sister’s face that looked so...normal.  “But he won’t be him anymore.”  

“I’m me still.” Matilda offered, crouching down in front of her. “See?”  

“For now,” Y/n shook her head slowly. “I don’t know how to keep you this way.”  

“Just keep telling me that you love me. That always makes me feel better when I start to feel yucky.”  

Y/n swallowed, unable to give her sister any kind of smile. Jungkook ushered Matilda to the side, slotting his hands under Y/n’s arms and hoisting her to her feet, fretting over her cheeks and arms as though searching for any kind of wound on her own skin. Swiping each splotch of Bear away with gentle hands.  

“You’re okay. We will find him.” He held her by the shoulders, looking through her like he always could. “I’ll find a way to keep them here. I promise.” His expression turned softer, and he gestured to her with his chin. “What do you want to do? Don’t lie.”   

She paused, her mouth hung open as she fought for what to say. She weighed her options, feeling that her limits had been reached. If she pushed forwards, would she be of any help or more of a burden? Maybe it would do her good to lean on them just this once.  

 “I want to wake up.”  

He nodded stiffly, the slightest show of surprise showing itself in the widening of his eyes. “Okay.”  

“If you guys need me, I’ll come back. I just need a minute.” She brought Bear’s Walkie to her mouth, the dark droplets on the speaker almost rendering her immobile again.  “This is Y/n to Hoseok. Wake me up, please.” There was a commotion of confusion in the library below, but she ignored it.  

“Just you?” Hoseok answered her, sounding uncertain.  

“Just me.”  

There were a few beats of heavy silence before he spoke again. “On it. Hang tight, over.” 

“Aww, but I don’t want you to go!” Matilda pouted at her. “I want to keep playing!”  

“If you can stay nice, we can spend more time together. Play with Jungkook and them, okay?” Y/n was barely holding herself together, squeezing her sister’s hand tightly. She didn’t want to let go of it. She pivoted to Jungkook, taking a small step towards him. “Hold me while I go?”  

He didn’t answer verbally, opening his arms for her to burrow in and crushing her to his chest. Matilda wrapped her arms around her legs, joining in on the embrace. The taste of bitter earth and peppermint washed over her senses and she let her eyes close, nuzzling deeper into his shoulder.  

“I’ll be there when you wake up.”  

And he was, just his time with a steady beating heart and warm skin; eyes still closed while hers were unbearably wet. 

 

 

 

_________________________________________ 

 

 

 

She lost track of how long she stayed curled up on the floor of Jimin’s office. Soothed by the steady drum of Jungkook’s pulse and the restless tinkering of Hoseok with his radio. If she wasn’t so out of it, she would laugh at just how Hoseok he was being. The not-so-subtle side-eye he kept giving her, the random clear of his throat or overt sniffle just to remind her that he was in the room. Words were never his strong suit in the sense that they made him uncomfortable, but god, was he hovering over he like a mother hen even from six feet away. Enough was enough, she had to give him something to ease the tension.  

“I’m alive.” Y/n croaked, her self-depreciating chuckle falling flat. While laughter was usually a safe jacket the two of them shared during discomfort, this time it almost made her sound worse. 

Hoseok grunted, his leg starting to bounce. “I can see that.” 

Y/n quickly wiped at her cheeks, but nothing rid her of the residual weight of Bear. It was like it was still all over her, clinging to her. Perhaps making herself useful would help take some of the ache away. “Can I help with anything?”  

Hoseok blinked at her like a fish out of water. “Uh...Sure. Let me just uh...” He looked at the map, then at the Walkie Talkie in his hand. “How about you man the radio? There's not much else to do here right now.”  

Her ears rang, and she stared down at the little army green box blankly. She was in the danger zone, because her eyes were starting to burn again, and her lip trembled no matter how hard she fought it.  

“Fuck–Okay. Maybe not that. Here-” He scrambled into motion, tucking the radio in his pocket and holding out the map of the building and a pen. “You can cross off the rooms as they go. Just to make sure they don’t miss one.”  

Sniffling down any remaining urge to cry, she nodded, shuffling over to the couch and taking a seat next to him, not even trying to hide the way she pressed as close to his side as she could. She craved something warm and alive to keep her sane. “What uh...What do I need to cross off so far?”  

“I already got the main hall. If you want to cross off the library, and the hall to the basement.” Hoseok cleared his throat into his fist, then pointed at each room. “I got coms.”  

The lines she drew were meticulously straight. She was putting in way too much effort for a simple ‘X’ drawn on flimsy paper they probably wouldn’t use again. Most likely because the scratch of the pain took her away from the itchiness of her skin where she could still imagine was still coated. Hoseok fidgeted endlessly, shifting this way and that, his head twitching to the side every so often when he’d open his mouth to say something and decide against it, snapping it shut.  

“You good?” She tried to keep her tone even, wiping at her cheek again with the back of her hand subconsciously. Key emphasis on ‘tried’.  

“I should be asking you that.” He snorted, spinning the Walkie in his hand for the hundredth time.  

“Like I said,” she watched the machine spin in his palm, vacant and passive, “I’m alive.”  

There it was again. The twitch of his head to the left. The subtle curl of his upper lip. The increasing speed of his leg.  

“Look,” Hoseok started, shaking the hair from his eyes and looking downcast at his lap. “I know I’m not...I know I’m not usually the one you would get all soft and wordy with but...” He peered at her from the corner of his eye. “If you wanna talk about it I’m here. Or if you wanna scream about it that’s cool too.” He nudged her playfully with an elbow. “Maybe punch a wall or something, who knows.”  

“I know. I just...Don’t even want to say it. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to be here, away from it all, even though we only just got back.”  

Hoseok frowned and rubbed his palms on the tops of his jeans. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can always see it if that’s easier. Maybe it will help get it off your mind, sharing it with me.”  

“That’s-” She stopped the protest before it left. Her immediate reaction to dismiss his comforts challenged by the voice in her head reminding her to be more honest with them all now that they were back. Keeping it never got her anywhere in the past. She shifted gears, laying the pen and paper down on the ground. “That’s something we can try.”  

Y/n held her hand out for him to take, and he did so, sliding his palm into place flush against hers. It was warm, just like he always seemed to be, the heat traveling up her wrist and forearm, tickling her neck and flooding her with softness. When he poked around, it felt different than Yoongi. In temperature obviously yes, but also in skill. Yoongi poked through her emotions like he was weeding through files in a drawer at an office, running a gentle finger over them and picking which one he needed with assured ease. Hoseok moved in the way someone would rummage through their pockets: hasty and blind, if only a bit clumsy.  

And what sucked with this version in particular was that she could see it when he pulled the moment to the front of her mind. Like a film projected on a screen that was too bright, faint and distant. With a flash of light she saw as Bear crumpled again and flinched when she was reminded of his blood on her cheeks. She wiped it away again.  

Hoseok sighed. He squeezed her hand in his with short pulses, each in increments of three. It was soothing in its own way, a unique way to comfort her without some kind of vulnerable word vomit. Simple, but effective.  

Her other hand still itched to scrub at her cheeks, and she hadn’t even noticed she must have done it a handful more times until Hoseok smacked it away from her face, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “There’s nothing there.”  

“I can still feel it...” She argued, this time using her sleeve to dab at her skin.  

Hoseok swiped her cheek with his thumb then held it up for her to see, waving it back and forth. “See? Nothin’ there.”  

Her breath caught in her throat, reaching out to latch onto his wrist before he could pull it too far away. “Do it again.”  

“Huh?” He blanked.  

“It feels better when you do it.” She pulled his hand an inch closer. “If you wouldn't mind.”  

He inspected her closely, cautiously bringing his fingers up to brush over her cheeks, sweeping away the pressure there with each gentle motion. The pads of his fingers traced over her eyes that fluttered closed, dancing across her forehead and cascading down her cheeks, outlining the shape of her jaw with a slow drag of his knuckles. Maybe he could feel where to go next, or maybe he had seen it in the vision. Either way, each spot she was convinced was contaminated was wiped clean by his touch burned it away completely.  

Stalling at her jaw, he waited a few breaths before asking her “Does it feel better? 

“Very.” She opened her eyes to find him closer than she remembered, his body warm through his layered hoodie. “Thanks.”  

A switch tripped in his mind, and the clouded expression he wore dispersed, retracting his hand quickly and stuffing it in his pocket. “Anytime.”  

Namjoon rattled through the speaker every now and then (sometimes more than necessary, which Y/n suspected had to do with him keeping her anxiety about their safety low) telling them which room they had completed and asking for Hoseok's input on how the building felt. They hadn’t much left, save for the second-floor restrooms and the Min exhibit. Hoseok’s company was much appreciated while the gears in her brain turned onwards towards any kind of solution. 

Y/n two options: fall into a low pit of gloom and wallow about Bear, or get up and do something about it. Her mother and Jin were set to arrive with any and all artifacts or boxes they had taken within the next ten minutes, and she’d be damned if she didn’t stick her nose in them as soon as time permitted. And then there was the note she received from Adelaide–which while it was exciting, was incredibly frustrating. She had been trying to find her this entire time! She couldn’t give them a hint or- 

Both of their phones buzzed simultaneously, and she jumped about half a foot in the air.  

[Jin 🛎️]: We just got into the lot. Be in shortly.  

We. Right. She’d have to see her mother again, something she had very little interest in actually doing. There was just too much to unpack, too much to process. Too much to look past. Even if she was doing what she did for good, she still pulled some bullshit moves on her and her friends. That doesn’t just disappear.  

Because she can see the after math on Hoseok’s face right now, lit up for her to see by the dimmed screen. What her mother had done to him would leave long lasting scars. The kind that tarnished trust and left massive holes where it used to be. They might never be the same.  

“Hey, you don’t have to talk to her. You can go chill in one of the exhibits if you want. I got it, ‘kay?”  

He schooled his features into his usual laze-fair mask he lied to parade around in, blowing off her concern with a wave of his hand. “Nah, I can handle it. Don’t worry about me.”  

The door to Jimin’s office opened not moments later, and he himself paused in the threshold to address them. “We are finished. I’m going to help them carry everything in. Would you two mind waking up Kook?”  

They moved quickly, scrambling from their seats and grabbing for the bottle at the same time, sharing rushed apologies while she angled the dropper between Jungkook’s parted lips. He stirred almost instantly; his gifts no doubt giving him a leg up that she couldn’t deny made her jealous. He smacked his lips together a few times, and she had to resist the urge to bend down and plant a soft kiss on them while he was still asleep. There were definitely more important things at the moment. 

He squinted up at her and brought a hand up to block the overhead light, still groggy. “You look...better?”  

“A little bit. That break helped a ton.” She smoothed a finger over the little wrinkle his creased brows made, the muscles relaxing under her touch. “Already trying to think of ways to get him back.”  

Jungkook hummed, pupils finally adjusting to the room. “We were too.”  

“And that’s why I choose to keep you around.” Y/n’s smile quivered slightly despite the joke. The warmth in her chest soothing the mourning ache. She could always count on them. “How’s Matilda?” 

Jungkook frowned. “She started to change towards the end. We were able to convince her to go outside.” Two of his long fingers came up to brush across her cheeks. “She’s okay.”  

Hoseok cleared his throat and Y/n jerked away from Jungkook. “I hear ‘em coming. Just so you're not making out when your mom gets in.”  

Y/n flushed. “We weren’t even-We didn’t-I was just waking him up!”  

“Po-tay-to po-tah-to. Same thing.” Hoseok got up with an exaggerated groan. “Though I think seeing her shit her pants might just be the silver lining we need.”  

“Tempting.” Y/n offered Jungkook a hand up right when the parade of footsteps grew within earshot.  

“I tried to return things as I found them. Though I’m sure you will do a good job resituating anything if need be.” Her mother sounded breathless, like she had been rambling about boxes and photos for far too long. Not being able to shut up when experiencing any kind of discomfort is apparently hereditary.  

“I’m sure you did your best.” Jimin held the door open for her politely, hands gripping at the boxes in his hand like his life depended on it.  

Her mother kept her head down as she entered, dropping the box on his desk with quick glances at Y/n that she hid behind a scratch of her cheek or a scan of the room. The others trailed in like a train, arms full of labeled boxes and eyes heavy. Yoongi was last, chugging along with a subtle sway and eyes he struggled to open again when he blinked. Namjoon wasn’t doing that much better, though he was better at plastering a wilted half smile at her mother when necessary. Yoongi offered her none of that curtesy. 

When the last of it was loaded on the table Mariah lingered, fiddling with the sleeve of her blazer or chain of necklace obsessively. Jin stayed composed as ever, hands resting on the wood of the table with an air civility that always followed him whenever her mother was around. But the silence was awkward. Yoongi did nothing but stare at her expectantly with arms crossed, and Namjoon busied himself helping Jimin pop the tops off the boxes and start digging.  

Suddenly she coughed into her shoulder and brushed her hands down her slacks. “Well if that’s everything then, I’ll be going to take care of your father. Like I told Jin, any information I’ve gathered is in the folder on top there, as well as the written contract you requested.” She nodded to the box and hurried towards the door. “Keep me updated and be sure to reach out if there’s anything I can help with.” She scanned the crowd of faces surrounding her with clear discomfort. It wasn’t like her to give up so much control. She passed over Y/n quickly, exiting through the door with a barely audible sigh.  

Y/n veered towards the table, snatching the folder and flipping it open. The first sweep of the page left her stuck still as stone, riddled with fissures that threatened to blow at any moment. Before she could even register what she was doing, she was chasing after her into the main room. “Wait!”  

Mariah’s spine straightened, and she spun to answer her with hand perched on the front door. “Y-Yes?”  

Y/n chewed on her cheek, challenging herself to look straight at her. “I just wanted to say that I’m...I’m sorry. For being so harsh. And for what you had to go through. Jin told me a lot.” Y/n wanted the ground to swallow her whole, her throat growing tighter with each word. “But we can’t just...I’m sure you’re aware of how much what you’ve done hurt us. Yoongi. Hoseok. Everyone.” She paused, sucking in a large breath.  “I don’t...I don’t hate you. I could never truly hate you. Ever. It’s just going to take a lot of time, and I can’t speak for anyone else or promise forgiveness. But I promise to try–if you do too.”  

Mariah blinked rapidly, eyes glittering under the fluorescent lighting. “I’m sorry too. More than you’ll ever know. I would like to try if you’d let me.”  

Y/n nodded, walking back towards Jimin’s office with heavy steps. “Okay. Sounds like a...sounds like a plan. Say hi to Dad for me.” She didn’t look back, tearing back across the hall and back to that sheet of paper that she had given her everything to see.  

The rush of their battle had gone, replaced with hushed conversations and gentle breathing of that settled over the room after her mother had left. It was the kind of celebration a bittersweet victory deserved. Yoongi collapsed on one of the sofas with an arm shielding his face from the light; Jimin was guiding Taehyung, Jin, and Namjoon on how to handle aged photographs and documents; Jungkook was still gathering his bearings on the opposite sofa while he watchfully awaited her return. That left Hoseok, who lingered at her side while she slid up to the table. She pinched the paper free of the folder and held it gingerly. Cradled it like a child.  Gazed upon it like a holy relic. Reread the words and followed the dotted line meant for her own signature until they were seared onto the back of her eyelids and streaked over everything she looked at.  

“I, Anselm Wörner, hereby reinstate Y/n Wörner as the sole inheritor of my title as proprietor of the Wörner Hotel and Estate and all its applicable affiliates upon completion of our agreement as it pertains to the rehabilitation and reclamation of the property and its disorderly conduct.  Apprenticeship will begin immediately following the completion of all terms described.”  

 A pen flung itself into her line of sight, held out to her by Hoseok and a weary grin. “Well, Miss Wörner?”  

She took the pen from his hand and the let the weight of it drag her hand to the paper, the tip hovering over the line that sat hungry for the ink.  

She paused.  

“Jin, can you do something for me?”  

He looked up at her from his stack of letters he was designated to organize with wide eyes. “Sure. What is it?”  

 

 

_________________________________________ 

 

 

The earth was damp, still darkened by the late-night thunderstorm and dusted with the first wave of brown and yellow leaves that had been so gullible to believe that the first few gusts of cool September air meant autumn had arrived. Maybe for other places, but here the weather had a habit of pulling the rug out from under your feet each time you thought you were safely squared away in a new season. It was a miracle in itself that Jungkook wasn’t following her here, convinced to stay behind only if to keep a watchful eye over the friends that stayed back to prepare the home. She didn’t leave without a soft warning to stay alert and diligent, no matter how many times Jin had assured him it was a church, he didn’t let up until he had kissed her knuckles goodbye. 

Headstones of gray, marble, and granite nestled in crooked rows emerged on all sides, bowing to her as she passed. Y/n knew exactly who she was looking for, the pristine oval shape etched with tulips and an obligatory cross standing proud amongst a long line of Wörner's, just a small way up the hillside, maybe twenty yards or so from the church that guarded them.  

Adelaide had always been such an enigma to her. Described by many in her life as cold, strict, bitter and stoic–living long past her expiration date for the sheer sake of spite. In the brief tales Jimin had managed to weave, she caught glimpses of a different woman. A woman with a fierce passion and a wicked grin. A dare-devil. Stubborn and resistant. Wild.  

It was obvious now to her that she must have lived two lives in order to garner such a contradictory reputation. That or someone was hell bent on making her seem like just some jealous and bitter old woman that lived in the past. A perfect reminder that history is only as accurate as the person in control wants it to be.  

“Do you want me to wait here?” Jin asked, stopping a few headstones behind.  

“I don’t mind, whatever you want to do. She seems to like you anyways.” Y/n commented, stepping over a fresh bouquet left behind for a loved one. The leaves started to crunch again, lagging just behind her.  

Y/n ran her finger over her name, tracking the grooves of the letters and numbers. She had said to come find her when she was ready, and this was the only place she could think of coming to. Her butt hit the dirt unceremoniously, legs crossed over one another and pen spinning in her finger tips.  

“Hey. I’m not sure if you’re listening, or if you can hear me,” She plopped the folder on her lap, “I just got handed a contract that gives me the opportunity you never had. And in a way, I owe it to you. I have yet to sign it, but I wanted you to be here for it so...” she shuffled the paper out and uncapped the pen from her pocket. “Here’s to the both of us.”  

It felt unreal, seeing her signature next to the Wörner emblem. It wasn’t a promise to herself anymore, but a promise to Adelaide, to her father and Matilda–to Bear who should have been over her shoulder right now. It didn’t feel as climactic as the thought it would. After all it was just her name on a piece of paper, not a life changing action of any kind. It was just the beginning, the start of actions that bite back with real teeth.  

“Adelaide if you’re here, listening–I’m ready. Ready for whatever wisdom or guidance you have to throw at me.” Y/n looked around the empty cemetery, half-hoping she would find her standing there. Of course she wasn’t. It was just more gravestones and a shivering Jin. “Whenever you’re ready, of course,” she added with just a touch of sarcasm.  

 The wind picked up, scattering the small hoard of leaves further across the grass, sending them tumbling against her thighs and spiraling into stones. She waited until the evening chill nipped at her fingertips and stole her breath, rising in defeat to trudge back to the car with Jin.  

“Shit!” The contract slipped from the folder and skittered to the ground for her to scramble after, tripping over a smaller headstone with hissed apologies to catch it. It got stuck against a thin rock, the name etched in blocky letters.  

 

Heidi Wörner.  

 

Y/n shivered, thinking of the twins and their horrid faces that no doubt used to be just as youthful as her sisters. It was hard to shake the prexisting notion of them, to see them the same as her sister–a spirit tainted. She bent down to grab it, swiping it quickly off the grayed stone edge. 

 

 Jin spun on her, stricken with alarm. “Y/n–step back!”  

 

A small hand tunneled through the dirt and grappled for her wrist, digging into the skin with bruising force. Her face and body followed shortly after, using Y/n’s arm like a rope to pull herself out of the grave. Heidi’s spirit twisted and writhed until her torso was unearthed, hissing and snarling like a dog, and clawing her grubby hands at the piece of paper.  

 

“It’s mine! I want it! Give it to me!”  

 

Jin wrapped his arms around Y/n’s waist and pulled, tugging her free of the little girls grasp with a grunt. Y/n stumbled into him, steadying herself against his shoulder. More hands of different sizes pushed their way through the soft dirt like a scene from a novice horror film, surrounding them and pinching at her pant leg and fumbling for her ankles.  

 

“We need to leave, now!” Jin slipped his hand into hers and used it to anchor her close while they zipped through the maze of stone, his guiding hold sometimes the only thing that kept her from toppling face first down the hill and into someone’s grandmother’s grave. He yanked open the car door for her, pushing her into her seat and buckling her in while she caught her breath. In a quick dash he was in the driver’s seat; seat buckle forfeited for time’s sake and sending them into reverse right over one of the ornate bushes that lined the property. Jin maneuvered them out onto the road at blinding speed, one that she never thought he’d be capable of.  She could see their shadows over the hill growing smaller in the rearview mirror; her ancestors all climbing over each other for their chance to get to her first.  

 

Y/n whipped around to face Jin, the world blurring across the window in blotches of dark colors. “I thought that was holy ground?! You know, demon proof?”  

 

“To be fair, they aren’t demons, they’re human.” Jin panted, running through a yellow light just as it flickered to red, not bothering to slow down.  

 

“They are evil ghosts coming to kill me!” Y/n exclaimed. “Sounds pretty demon-like to me!”  

 

“I’m going to let you off without my demon rant. I’m sure you’re not dying to hear my information dump of Christian lore.” Jin slowed the vehicle down only when they were a few miles out and starting up the back roads to the Estate. “Just know that they aren’t technically demons.”  

 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Techincal schmechnical. They shouldn’t be there!”  

 

“As much as I agree with you, I don’t think when they prepared the property that they would have stopped to think ‘huh, maybe we should make sure we protect from infected ghosts of family members just in case!’ considering not all of them even believed in familial ghosts anyway!” Jin shot back with an equally sarcastic huff.  He seemed to catch himself, blinking once and clearing his throat of any attitude he had. “Is the contract okay?”  

 

She looked it over, flipping it from front to back. “Yeah. Seems fine.” She gulped, dropping it into her lap. “Kook and them are going to be so pissed.  He’s going to give me that ‘told you so’ look and I can’t stand it.” Y/n groaned, dragging her hands down her face.  

 

“We handled it well.” Jin shrugged, plush lips curving up in a sweet smile, taking one hand off the wheel and offering it up as a fist. “Team Seokjin, right?”  

 

Y/n looked from his fist to his face, then with a burst of laughter, bumped her fist against his. “Right. Because speeding off through town and almost running a red is handling it well. I swear we almost hit a pedestrian back there...”  

 

He made a face. “Don’t say such nonsense, that was a shrub. And I didn’t hit it, I bumped it on the way out. You know I would never.”  

 

She shrugged with feigned innocence. “I dunno. Looked like a helpless old lady to me.”  

 

“I haven’t seen a single person on the sidewalk since we passed the ice cream shop. Don’t play those games with me because we both know I’ll win.”  

 

“And what will Hoseok say when he hears about your reckless driving...” She tutted playfully.  

 

Jin visibly paled. “He’ll say nothing because he won’t know. If he finds out I’ll never hear the end of it.”  

 

“Oh yeah? Says who? Call me a canary ‘cause I’ll be singing when we get back.”  

“Then I’m going to tell Jungkook you stuck your hand in a grave!”  

“Ugh! Fine!” Y/n pursed her lips at him. “I didn’t do that by the way.”  

“And I didn’t hit an old woman!”  

Y/n side eyed him. “Truce. For now.”  

The car bounced into the Estates driveway, illuminating the front of the house that waited for their arrival. Jungkook and Jimin were lounging on the front steps in sweats and hoodies; legs stretched out as they talked idly while awaiting her return. Her pulse quickened at the sight of the house and the propped open front door. The foyer lit up with warm lighting as bodies moved to and fro. It looked like a home should–Overflowing with a golden glow and stuffed with life.  They must have finished upping the protection on their bedrooms, because the two of them looked freshly showered and relaxed. Something she wasn’t sure she’d be able to be in that house until this was all over.  

Jin cut the engine, tucking the keys into his pockets and slipping the folder under his arm. “You don’t tell Hoseok I was speeding and I won’t tell Jungkook what happened. Deal?” He held his pinky up in the air.  

“Deal.” She wound her pinky around his and shrugged off her seatbelt. 

The night air was even colder here than in town and she wrapped her jacket around her middle to stave off some of the bitterness. Jimin rose to his feet the instant her sneakers met the gravel; arms outstretched for a hug.  

“I’m guessing you finished the job?” he asked softly, tucking his chin on her shoulder and swinging the two of them back and forth in their embrace.  

“Signed, sealed, delivered.” Y/n remarked, burrowing into his shoulder to siphon the warmth from it. She offered Jungkook a grin from over Jimin’s shoulder, one hand reaching out and motioning for him to come closer.  

He did–slowly–raking his eyes over her face with a suspicious amount of detail. 

“How’s the house?” Her words were muffled by Jimin’s hoodie.  

“ S’fine.” Jungkook answered plainly. Then he squinted and Y/n knew she’d have to distract him before he caught on.  

“What he means is,” Jimin started, pulling away from the hug, “bedrooms are all clear. We cleansed the dining room and warded it off, though we refrained from going anywhere else and pushing our luck. Malicious compliance, as we agreed.”  

Y/n nodded in understanding. Their new “rule” was based on the mysterious rules, but on their terms. No discussions of what they were doing within the house, only over text, writing, or outside of the home in the historical society that they had just fully secured. It kept them safe from wandering eyes and listening ears, while also hopefully minimizing retaliation within the home. Cleansing the entire home was off the table. Not only did they not really know yet how Adelaide previously kept the house in order, but cleansing it themselves would be physically and spiritually draining, as well as unimaginably dangerous. They would only make it into two rooms before the house was swarming, they were the strongest here after all.  

“At least the rooms are safe. But it sucks to have to be back in the buddy system.” Y/n pouted slightly, already missing the sweet taste of freedom she had grown used to while away from the property.  

Jimin chuckled, tickling at her sides. “What, are we that miserable a company?”  

“No! I’m just going to miss getting late night snacks and not having to wake you all up. Or God forbid I run out of water and wake up parched–the tap water is questionable at best and I’d rather risk running into a ghost than have the stomachache that will give me.”  

Jimin shook his head at her antics. “I’ll just buy you a bigger water bottle then.”  

“Ooo! How about a water cooler like they have in offices? We can huddle around it every night before bed and gossip like-” 

“Something happened.” Jungkook stated confidently after observing the way Jin exited the car, cutting off her wishes of roleplaying office life.  

Y/n blanked, sharing a quick look with Jin. “I don’t know what you mean. Just a perfectly normal grave yard visit.”  

“Very normal.” Jin affirmed with an overly upbeat smile.  

Jungkook looked between the two of them, one eyebrow traveling upwards. “Uh huh. Sure.” He bent down low, their noses almost touching. “Remember I can see when you lie.” Y/n gulped at his proximity, taking a nervous step back to create some distance.  

“Ding dong!” Just then Hoseok popped his head around the door frame. “Ma told me to tell youse all that dinner is ready.” As quick as he was there, he vanished back behind the door. 

“Ma?” Y/n’s jaw dropped.  

“The Jungs are here for dinner,” Jimin informed in her ear. “And Jungkook’s dad.”  

Jungkook ignored her shock and continued in his demands . “What happened?”  

“How lovely, I’m starving.” Jin clapped his hands together, rubbing them with excitement to derail him.  

“Me too!” Y/n tried to squeeze past Jungkook, but he didn’t let her, stepping in time with her towards the steps.  

“I’m not gonna stop asking.” Jungkook chided, following closely behind up the steps.  

“It’s fine, Kook! I promise whatever happened wasn’t-Ouch!” Y/n was halted by something tiny and hard knocking against her skull and clattering to the ground at her feet. With one hand on her forehead to soothe the dull ache, she bent down to pick up the shiny object.  

“What the fuck...” She muttered, turning it over in her hand. Her companions crowded around her to get a closer look.  

Jimin snuck his chin on her shoulder. “What is it?”   

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “A...quarter?”  

The sleek silver looked pristine as though it was never used or even touched for that matter. She flipped it over to read the back and ran her eyes over the ridges of its design, following the distinct shape on the back and the writing up top.  

Texas. 1845.  

Over the treetops and off towards town, she heard the distant trill of a train–knowing full well no train like that still ran in these parts, and never at this hour.   

Hoseok’s head came back once more. “Was that a fuckin’ train?”  

“Yeah,” Y/n mused, twiddling with the coin, “it was.” She shook her head in amazement, meeting Jin’s gaze. “Say Jin, what does your gut say about another road trip?”  

He mulled over her question, running his tongue over the inside of his cheek. “Something feels right about it.”  

“Perfect.” Y/n quipped, tucking the quarter in her pocket.  

Jimin and Hoseok shared a look of confusion, following after her into the foyer. Hoseok watched her kick off her shoes atop the haphazard pile. “Not that I’m opposed, but where to?”  

“Texas.” Y/n stood up straight, tipping an invisible hat to him. “Maybe some time away from this place will do some good. I haven’t seen my cousins in a while anyway.” 

Jin crouched low, focused on organizing the disaster of a shoe pile while he spoke. “You think that’s where she wants you to go?”  

“I do,” Y/n nodded. “I did ask for a sign before the whole Heidi-” Y/n clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes darting to look at Jungkook.  

“The ‘whole Heidi’ what?” Jungkook repeated, the beginning of an ‘I told you so’ already breaking through his expectant glare.  

Y/n looked with wide eyes from Jin to Jungkook, then Hoseok; her hand still pressed over her mouth. She dropped it from her mouth to point at Jin, speaking so fast she stumbled over her words. “Jinhitanoldwomanwithhiscar!”     

“He what?!” Hoseok’s mother roared from the kitchen, her steps hurrying closer. 

“And he ran a red light!” Y/n started to back away towards the stairs to safety for Jin looked like he was going to pounce at her. 

Hoseok’s grin grew literal inches, mischief alight in his eyes like he was twelve on Christmas morning. He cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted “She said Jin hit someone with his car!”  

Jin launched one of Yoongi’s sneakers at Hoseok’s already retreating form, face flushed red. “I did not! It was a shrub!!”  

 

 

_________________________________________ 

 

  

Y/n took back the initial wave of anxiety at the thought of sharing a meal with Hoseok’s and Jungkook’s parents: it was a wonderful distraction. Misuk took up almost the entire evening gushing over Hoseok’s sister’s upcoming wedding, which she was more than happy to answer any questions Y/n had about it with equal enthusiasm. Neither group of parents let slip just what exactly brought them home besides half-hearted comments about catching them after all of their vacations. But Y/n had known Misuk long enough to recognize that same twitch of the chin Hoseok had when he was holding something back.  

Jungkook’s father was reserved, yet oh so very observant. She didn’t miss the way his eyes would glue onto Jungkook anytime he helped Y/n with a napkin or scooped more rice into her bowl with a gentle grunt. He was a professor after all.   

“So,” Y/n spoke up during one of Misuk’s welcomed pauses, pushing her dinner around her plate and keeping her tone inconspicuous. “I was thinking of taking a trip down to visit my cousins. I saw Miranda post about her graduation and thought it might be good to see her before she’s off for her internship.”  

Mariah hummed, chewing her food slowly. “That sounds like a great plan, I’m sure your aunt would love to have you.”  

“Would it just be you going?” Jungkook’s father, Sanghun, interjected smoothly.  

Y/n shifted under his watch, his pinpoint stare proof enough that him and Jungkook were related. “I was going to throw it out to everyone else, see who wants to come.”  

“I will.” Jungkook answered swiftly.  

Sanghun looked from his son to Y/n a few times, nodding distantly. “I see.”  

“I’ll go.” Hoseok chimed in, dropping his chopsticks into his bowl with one hand laid over his stomach. “I can drive you around.”  

Misuk choked on her sip of wine, putting her glass down to dab politely at her mouth with a napkin. “Wh-what about your sister’s wedding? We could use you here to help with that.”  

Hoseok made a face. “Eh. Sis already shot down my idea. Said I don’t see her “vision”.” He made air quotes around his words.  

“That’s because you suggested she hire a birthday party clown for her wedding. My mom sent me the pictures of your choices.” Jin gave him a pointed look over his glass. Yoongi snorted into his tumbler, spiced rum bubbling up to speckle his cheeks.  

“See, at least someone appreciates my vision.” Hoseok waved to Yoongi who was fighting for his life not to laugh. “You have to admit, Honky Tonk Tony made a hell of a good balloon giraffe. She loves giraffes! And he dances.”  

“Yeah, I saw that too.” Jin’s lips quirked up, if only slightly. “The video you sent of him doing the Cotton-Eyed Joe to the Backstreet Boys was very impressive.”  

“As I was saying,” Misuk cut Hoseok off from responding, “Your sister would love to have you around. It’d be good for you too–spending some time with your family.”  

 

Hoseok visibly deflated with a sigh, already sagging in his seat in defeat.  

 

“I can always help,” Mariah offered. “You know how much I love Ji. Between Hana and I, we could take a huge chunk of it off her plate, I’m sure.”  

 

Hoseok looked to Mariah quickly, then back down to his plate.  

 

Misuk smiled at her mother, the edges wobbling under pressure. “I’ll be sure to let her know. But I think having you two and her brother help would take even more off her plate, don’t you think?”  

 

“Oh I’m sure, I just thought he might like to see the ranch. Maybe get a chance to fulfill some of those old western fantasies he had when he was younger.” Mariah laughed fondly at the memories that had started to resurface. “The way that he used to run around with that hat and those old boots–I thought his feet would melt into them he wore them so-”  

 

“-I know how my son used to play.” Misuk took another sip of her drink. “I also know he is in no place to be galivanting on horseback and trumping through fields.” 

 

Hoseok’s demeanor faltered, mortification flashing briefly into his expression. “Ma-”  

 

“What, are we still not allowed to acknowledge it out loud now?” She made a sweeping motion to everyone at the table. “Everyone is aware, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s your life.”  

 

“Yeah, it’s my life. I’d kinda like to go see it with my own two feet before I have to be pushed around.” Hoseok stood his ground against Misuk’s hardened stare.  

 

The tension was so thick you could snip it with the scissors on the table. Misuk opened her mouth to scold him before her husband–who had kept to himself for most of the meal–broke his silence.  

 

“Ah–let him go. We have the wedding covered. He needs to go out and live a little.” Jeonghun chided his wife gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Keeping him cooped up won’t benefit him.”  

 

“I’ll go with them to help keep an eye on him.” Jin asserted himself into the discussion again. “I’ll even take him to the doctor before we go, make sure he’s still on the right track.”  

 

Misuk looked defeated, releasing a curt sigh through thinly pressed lips. “If that’s what he wants.”  

 

Dinner ended once her mother offered to pay for their flights, requesting everyone who wished to go reach out to her the following morning so they could move schedules around accordingly. Y/n stayed back, lending the parents a helping hand with the dishes that couldn’t fit in the dishwasher, Seonghan taking up Y/n’s side to dry them.  It was an intricate dance they wove, tiptoeing around certain words and spinning around different topics. Though it helped to know that everyone was on the same page from Jin’s shared perspective. Now it was just about reading that page aloud without stirring up trouble. 

 

“I haven’t gotten the chance to offer my congratulations,” his voice reminding Y/n of melted silver, thick and fluid, just twinged with rust. “I’m afraid Jungkook neglected to mention your current uh...predicament.”  

“Oh, right.” Y/n’s cheeks burned. “With everything going on I’m sure it just...slipped his mind.”  

He let out a low meditative hum, reflecting over it with a moments quiet. “I’m happy for you. All of you.” The serving plate she was washing slipped through sudsy fingers and she wrestled to keep it from crashing against the metal barrel of the sink. He chuckled at her display, pinching the edge so she could grab it easier. “I just hope that the...world...will be kind to you. All I ask is that from now on we try to keep each other updated. I’d like to not find out my son fell victim to a bear attack through a letter from my insurance.”  

“Right,” Y/n squeaked, rinsing the tray of soap and passing it to him. “I’m sorry about that. He said not to call and I just-”  

“Yeah, I know my son.” He shook his head dismissively. “And I know bears.”  

Y/n chewed on the tip of her tongue, reaching for the pile of chopsticks along the bottom of the sink. “How much experience do you have with them? Bears, I mean.”  

“Not too much personally, but my wife had quite the history with them. And my grandfather had observed a few, though he liked to keep his distance.” He made a noise in the back of his throat which was a cross between a grunt and a clear of his throat, a tick he was known for when conjuring up a thought. Now whispering. “To be quite honest, they terrify me.”  

Y/n waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. His mood shifted with a click of his tongue and a kind smile. “Ah well, enough of that. It’s been too long since we’ve caught up. How have things been with you?”  

“A little bit chaotic, a little bit ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, like, ever’. You know how it is.” Y/n brushed off his inquiry in a joking manner that he mirrored.  

“Oh do I, I’m knee deep in it up in New York. Almost every kid that sits through one of my lectures comes in with their heads screwed on backwards before they manage to figure out where they’re supposed look years later.” He sighed, his grin widening as he playfully bumped her with his shoulder. “What else? I have to get caught up–you know, before we are at a wedding with clowns, talking about how time flies.” 

 

While she laughed, there was this warm, wiggly, feeling in her chest that mimicked the feeling of home. Being in the kitchen, washing dishes after a hearty meal surrounded by loved ones with full bellies and lazy grins was exactly what she was fighting for. For when he tossed her a wink, she realized it probably wasn’t Ji’s wedding he was referring to. And instead of feeling fear, or grief for what has become of the day–she saw a light at the end of the tunnel. A drop of hope that one day things will be better.  

 

 

 

_________________________________________ 

 

 

 

[The Most Annoying and Toxic Coworkers] 

 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Hey 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Is anyone awake?  

 

Y/n stared at her screen and the time stamp they had been sent from sometime around one thirty in the morning. It was almost two now, and no one had yet to respond. It was hard for her mind not to latch onto all of the worst case scenarios it conjured up, the impulse to get up and walk the halls to listen to their breathing stronger than it had been in weeks. But she couldn’t, and that was killing her. She had almost forgotten just how stifling it was to be home like this: unable to go anywhere or do anything for herself.  

The only thing stopping her from climbing out the window was that Jimin’s arm was thrown over her waist, keeping her grounded by the soft puff of his breathing against her neck. Her hands itched to send another, but she knew that if no one had answer by now that surely another late-night message wouldn’t change the outcome. Minutes ticked by, her brain only conjuring up more wild concoctions of fear: her friends strewn across the floor, Bear’s final words whispered through gritted teeth before he blew his own skull in two.  

No matter how hard she tried to comfort herself with simple reassurance that they would fix him–fix all of them–she was still frozen in a strange place of mourning someone that was already dead. Grieving someone she had already attended a funeral for decades prior.  

The vibration of her phone pulled her out of it, dropping the device straight onto her face in her rush to check who else was awake.  

[Joon 🌱]: Sorry–I was catching up on some work in the greenhouse. What’s up? 

Y/n rubbed at her sore nose before replying.  

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Can’t sleep. I’m having the Urges (tm) again. Trying not to rip my own hair out and climb the walls. The usual.  

[Joon 🌱]: 😟😰 

[Joon 🌱]: Why don’t I come get you, get your hands dirty at the greenhouse and your mind off it.  

[Morning Glory 🌼]: That actually sounds amazing. I miss her :(    

 

She slipped out from under Jimin, scampering around the room to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a thick pair of socks. Namjoon’s footsteps creaked into the hall by the time she was bending over to kiss Jimin’s forehead, whispering a quick goodbye even though she knew his sleep-ridden brain wouldn’t digest any of it.  

The door was open and she was out in the hallway the moment Namjoon was close enough, her movements quick and shaky. His dimples greeted her, welcoming silently to follow him. With hushed voices and a soft tread, they floated down the stairs and out the front door, and she wrapped her arms around her middle at the first midnight breeze. It kissed at her skin scraped up goosebumps with its teeth, mocking her dizzied rush that left her air-headed enough to remember to put on warm pants but not toss anything over her t-shirt. Thankfully Namjoon stood close enough for his oversized hoodie to brush against the skin of her arms–at least one of them had dressed appropriately.  

Yellow light beckoned her closer to the safe heaven she craved. String lights glittering like stars through the foggy glass and shining brightly through the glass panels of the extravagant second floor. She couldn't remember the last time she had come here with the intention of just getting lost in the swirling iron bars of her embrace without the pressure of having to run.  

“Watch your step, I knocked the broom over on my way out,” Namjoon ushered her through the door, holding it open for her and closing it behind himself.   

The front room was a wreck. Tools discarded in piles over the table, the towering shelves of jarred herbs blanketed in a coat of dust and dirt debris, the floors streaked with half swept up boot prints and mud.  

Y/n scoffed at the sight, hands planting down on her hips with. “I guess the guys they hired for the summer really didn’t care to keep up with our organization, huh?”  

“Nope.” Namjoon sighed. “They didn’t care to take out any of their trash either. Be wary of the back room, I had to lug out bags full of cuttings and dead plants that were starting to breakdown. It smells like shit back there.”  

Y/n shook her head in disbelief, snatching up a pair of stained gloves and strapping them on. “Welp, you did promise I’d get my hands dirty. So let’s get shit back in order.”  

 They moved like a well oiled machine to the backtrack of one of Namjoon’s  playlists and his hoodie long discarded, scrubbing away their boot prints, and disinfecting the tools to slot back into her carefully hung and labeled containers (really, she made it so easy for them to keep things tidy–the high school students do a better job at it than these freelance adults). Some of the plants were in need of some TLC, their leaves droopy or spotted, and the windows needed a good clean. They finished off their work with tacky skin caked in loose dirt freshly washed in the back sink with a shared bar of soap, and two steaming mugs of tea. It was probably nearing four thirty by the time they clinked their mugs together and settled onto the wooden seats in the front room, basking in the inviting glow of the lights and the freshly cleaned space.  

Namjoon took an exaggerated sip of his tea, smiling at the taste. “You know, I think this was one of the best things you had ever done to this space.”  

“What? Saved it from your disorganized chaos? I do that every day we are here.”  

“No,” Namjoon chuckled, nodding to the small “coffee” bar she had parked in the office room behind her and stocked with an electric kettle and her mugs from college she didn’t have a use for. “That.”  

“What can I say? I wanted your tea, and I didn’t want to have to brave the house to get it. It was a win-win.” The two shared another laugh that died out into the quiet ambience of the night, hands soaking in the warmth from the mugs that waged war against the chilly night air that waltzed in from the door they had propped open once the humidity had gotten to them an hour into cleaning.  

Namjoon made a noise of concern around his drink, rushing to set his mug down. “Are you cold?”  

“A little,” Y/n admitted. He was up in an instant, guiding the door closed and swiping his cream-colored hoodie from where he discarded it in the chair. “Here, you can borrow this.”  

Y/n dithered between letting him wear it and diving right into the plush fabric, though the latter won with its enticing soft interior. And without thinking, she shrugged off her dirty t-shirt and pulled the hoodie over to replace it.  

Namjoon snickered. “I like the frogs.”  

“What?” Y/n looked to him owlishly. “Oh, this?” Then she looked down, tugging at the strap of her soft bralette made with fabric that was freckled with cute little frogs and held it up for him to see. “Thanks, it’s top of the line stuff.”  

“Oh I can tell. It’s probably designer.”  

“It is, you just wouldn’t know because you don’t have taste.”  

“I said I liked it!” Namjoon held his hands up in defense.  

“Yeah, with sass.”  She rebutted.  

Namjoon grinned down into his mug, hands tapping on the tops of his sweats, the low volume of his speaker nurturing the softness of the atmosphere. God, she missed this part of being home. Though when she was with him, even the ricketiest shack could tell her it was a mansion and she’d believe it.  

“Uh,” Namjoon scratched at his nose, his smile melting down just a smidge as he dropped  his hands back on the table. “I don’t...I don’t think I’m going to go with you guys to Texas.”  

“Oh,” Y/n’s shoulders curled inwards, her voice growing small.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I have so much to do here. I have to pick and choose when I leave.” He looked up to her, his eyes a comforting brown that made her heart flutter. “I’ll think about the next field trip though.”  

“You better.” Y/n shimmied in her seat, unintentionally bringing their chairs closer. “If I remember correctly, you still owe me a trip to longwood.”  

“Right. I guess I do.” Namjoon looked off towards the main part of the green house. “Julia Ceaser is still there, thank god. I was worried one of them would have crushed her.”  

“Nah, she would have fought those bitches off. She’s tough.”  

Namjoon grin came back, this one golden like honey and just as sweet and made just for her. “Yeah, she is.”  

Her laugh faltered, and she bit her lip to keep her lips from curling higher like an enamored idiot. The pull to him was magnetic, but not demanding. It was like the pull one feels when they turn onto their street after a late night out with friends, instincts guiding them right to where the porch light is waiting up for them.  

She found herself leaning closer to him, falling into the gravitational pull she couldn’t fight.  

“Y/n–wait.”  

She froze, eyes whipping open as shame started to drain her of warmth. She leant back in her chair, going as far as to scooch it further away from him. Fuck, had she misread the signals? “Joon, I’m so sorry. I thought-I don’t know what I thought. I shouldn’t have assumed-”  

“No you’re fine!” Namjoon held his hands out like he was calming a frightened deer, though he looked more like a deer caught in the headlights himself. “I just want to tell you something before we do anything you might regret.”  

Y/n cocked her head to the side, uncertain. “I wouldn’t regret...I wouldn’t regret kissing you, Joon.”  

He cleared his throat, eyes darting around the room. “It’s not what’s happening right now that I’m worried you’ll regret...”  

She blinked at him, holding the space for him to explain further. When he started to grow restless, leg unable to fight the right perch on the neighboring chair and his hands clasped over his knees she laid a hand over one of them. “Hey, we don’t judge each other, remember?”  

“Right.” He swallowed his nerves and looked up to her earnestly. “I’m not...I’m not normal sometimes either.”  

“Joon, normal is subjective. You of all people should know that.”  

He rolled his eyes if only slightly. “Okay, let me rephrase that–the way I experience love is sometimes...different.”   

“Ooookay...” Y/n moved her mug of tea to the side so she could grab for his hands, holding them on the table between them. “How so?”  

“Sometimes I like it. This. Holding hands, kissing, cuddling. Sometimes I don’t particularly care for it, and really like just hanging out with you. I still...care about you. And when I like it I really like it. It’s just different. It can last a couple of days, to maybe a couple of months. It’s always fluid. It might be different with you since we are so close already, but I just want to lay that all out in the open before you agree to something you aren’t interested in.” He exhaled the breath he was holding, his shoulders visibly lighter.  

Y/n scooted her chair closer to him, their knees slotting together. “Joon, I want to be with you because it’s you. Whether that means I kiss you every day or we spend hours playing chess or reading books to each other. Love–if that's what you want to call it–has no rules to how you show it. It’s whatever you want it to look like. And hey, if you never want to touch me that’s fine too. I just want to spend my life with you in it.”  

Namjoon beamed at her, shaking his head with a boisterous laugh. “No, sex is different. I know it sounds weird, but that stuff is different than general romance. It’s just easier to ask me where I am on any given day honestly.”  

“Ah okay,” She laughed too, feeling giddy with nerves like they were two schoolchildren hiding behind the bleachers. “So...how are you feeling today?”  

He gave a shy shrug. “You were definitely reading the right signals before.”  

She leaned closer, and he met her halfway. The kiss was timid at first, a tender exploration of something new. Yn slid her wrists up to drape over the nape of his neck, pulling back for just a moment. “Is this okay?”  

“Very much okay.” He dove back in, silencing her giggles with a slow-moving draw of his mouth over hers, hands playing over her waist to bring her closer. The early morning rain started to drizzle down on the window panes, the tapping of it a standing ovation for such an intimate show of utterly sweet belonging.  

 

 

 

_________________________________________ 

 

 

 

“Make the letters just a bit smaller-” Annelise bent lower over the table, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “-that’s it, there you go!”  

Adelaide’s fingers wrapped around the thin wooden pencil like the legs of a spider, the tips bending back with how much force she used. Annelise moved in to correct it, guiding her hand into the proper positioning.  

The little girl paused, reading the next question on her paper with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand.” Her accent was heavy, weighing down the center of her words and tilting the ends upwards. Something she had picked up from her father, and his father too.  

“The question, or the words, dear?” Annelise asked, leaning her weight on her hand while the other absent-mindedly rubbed soothing circles on her swollen belly.  

“The question,” Adelaide groaned, head falling down onto the table in defeat.  

Annelise hummed to herself, sliding the paper in between them to get a better look at it, then she scoffed, the action fused with mirth more than anything mean. “I think you know the answer, Kleine. Here...” Annelise read the question aloud, following the path of it with the tip of her finger for Adelaide to read along, which she did so. “You just need to choose which of these are verbs and which of them are nouns. It is what we were just doing this morning.”  

“Can you help me with the first one?” Adelaide looked up to her with big, begging eyes.  

The woman tutted to herself, relenting. “Oh, alright. Just the first one then.”  

Annelise ended up helping her with three before the young girl’s brothers came barreling back into the room, the body of a dead squirrel hanging down from the eldest’s fists.  

“Look what I caught today with Vater!” Ernst swung the creature by the tail like a pendulum and Adelaide scrunched her face in disgust.  

“That is foul!” She smacked a hand over her nose.  

Freidrich laughed at her disgust, unbottoning his coat and letting it fall to the floor next to Ernst’s. “Only you seem to think so, because you’re a baby.”  

“You can’t call her a baby, you’re the one that made me kill it!” Ernst knocked his brother off-balance with a shove. To which the younger retaliated by making a grab for his ear, yanking until his head jerked downwards. 

“Boys! Don't torment your sister!” Their father rounded the corner, kicking off his hunting boots and lining them near the door. “You both did quite enough of that this morning.” The boys started shoving each other in a race to the kitchen to show off their prize to the chef, leaving mud and grass smeared in their wake. Hadwin entered after her father, his face brightening like the sun emerging from behind a rather large cloud upon seeing his wife, shrugging off his own coat and barely hanging it on the hook before sweeping her into his arms.  

“Yuck!” Adelaide covered her eyes with her palms to block out the sight of their kiss, her father leaning over to ruffle her hair.  

“One day you’ll find something as precious as that, I promise you.”  

“Not if I can help it,” Adelaide huffed, arms crossed. “I do not wish to be married.”  

Her father merely laughed off her disgruntlement, patting the top of his head in a condescending manner. “You will change your mind one day. I’m sure of it.” 

“I am not sure of it!” She continued, digging her heels in further. “I want to go hunting too! I want to go to big parties and dance like my brothers!”  

“Hunting?” Ernst came back in having lost his brother in the maze of the halls, out of breath and jeering, the squirrel still hanging from his fist. “You can’t do that! You can’t even handle this squirrel.”  

Adelaide’s lip jutted out. “I can too!”  

“Really? Prove it.” Ernst held the mangled creature up to her face, and for a moment Adelaide thought she might hurl. It smelt rancid and looked none the better. But she steeled herself, and while glowering straight at her brother she pinched the tail between two fingers, before gripping in her fist and using it like one would a baseball bat, swinging it right into his head.  

Ernst screamed, and Adelaide burst into a devious shriek of laughter. Hadwin whisked Annelise away from them, fretting about her health while being so close to something dead, and their father ducked under Adelaide’s next swing and lifted her straight into the air.  

“That’s enough of that, you two, before your mother gets involved!” He wriggled the squirrel free from her grasp and carted her off towards the office. “No more nonsense from you. Come, read to me and show me what you have learned today.”  

Unfortunately for Adelaide, her mother did hear about the squirrel incident, and so she was forbidden from singing during their evening playing. Forced to sit and listen while her father and uncle slid feathery bows across wooden stringed instruments while the fire blazed on in the hearth. The silver lining of that evening was that she got to spend it curled up between Annelise and her grandmother, saved from her mother’s overbearing touch that was lavished upon her brothers instead, bathing them in warm comforting presses of her hands along their small backs and sweet kisses to the crown of their heads. That was until the music ended. Her luck died with the last note, her freedom revoked by a stiff tug up the stairs to her room, her mother’s purposeful strides always just a step too fast for Adelaide to keep up. 

“What you did to him was entirely unacceptable. You must ask for forgiveness.” Johanna busked about her room, pulling out her outfit for the next day and laying it across her bed. She then waited, arms crossed and lips twisted into a frown. “Go on then, apologize.”  

Adelaide clasped her hands together with a sigh, knees digging into the wooden floor, prayers tumbling out in a reluctant mumble. “Let us pray lord-”  

“Louder.” Johanna snapped. “And speak clearly child, or else I will strike you.”  

“-that you may grant me forgiveness.” Adelaide articulated her words with more care, head lowered in obedience. “Earlier this day I hit my...brother with a...” It was quite difficult not to laugh at the memory. The image of her brother’s face just as the squirrel had hit it ingrained deep in her subconscious. 

Johanna stomped over to her daughter, gripping her hands and lifting them higher into the air, and pushing her knees lower. “This is not a laughing matter! He will remember when you act this way before him. Believe me, he will.”  

Adelaide cowered back from her mother, all humor lost from her voice. Instead, it grew shaky and uncertain. When her mother threatened to punish her, it was never without a promise. “I hit him with a squirrel today, and I know now that what I did was wrong. I ask for your forgiveness, father, and pray that you will keep us all safe tonight and forever. Amen.” Adelaide waited for her mother’s approval, which came as a short affirming grunt, and only then did she climb into her bed and pull the covers up to her chin.  

“Goodnight, Mutter,” Adelaide whispered to her.  

“Goodnight,” Came her clipped reply, and then she was gone. Sweeping herself into both of her brothers' room down the hall, where she could hear her shower them with loving kisses and motherly devotions, each one making her feel smaller, and more alone in her own bed.  

The Night trickled onwards, and she struggled to keep her eyes closed. Plagued by the face of the poor squirrel she had desecrated and wielded like a weapon. She would never admit it, but it did actually frighten her, its beady black eyes and opened mouth. The wound in it’s middle streaked with dried tears of weeping blood staining her thoughts.  

It haunted her throughout the night, making her brain trick itself into thinking she could hear the creature running across the ceiling and scuttling through the walls. Using its claws to rip and scratch at the pipes along the other side of the wallpaper. The moon was full, sending sweeping beams to light up her room, illuminating the windowsill and the floorboards beside her.  

It was then with an awful lurch of her stomach that she saw what she wished she hadn’t–The mangled body of the same squirrel she had used, crawling helplessly across the floor, teeth gnashing at the air and nails scraping the wood. Their eyes were black as coal and just as bulbous, the surface of them thin and tremulous, like two balloons ready to pop with the mere force of the wind. And as though it could sense her looking down at it, its head twisted round to snarl at her like a beast, front arms dragging its torso closer to her bed.  

Adelaide screamed–screamed so loud her throat felt as though it might bleed, and made her own ears ring with the echoes of it. When her aunt Annelise and her Uncle Hadwin came to her aide, the door thrown open and their faces ablaze with terror–the creature vanished.  

But Adelaide couldn’t stop screaming. It felt too real. It looked too real.  

And she could still hear its claws scratching across the floor, ripping along the wallpaper and scuttering over the pipes.  

 

 

  

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