Archive of Our Own ^beta

Time passes differently when you’re alone for an elongated period of it. Seasons blend together, day and night seem inconsequential, and things that used to matter fade into the background, a faint echo deep inside the hollow space between one’s ribs.

Back when Jimin had first taken shape in this world, he was weak, only able to take physical form in the dark of the night. Now dust gathers atop his body, sunlight gleams off the once polished wooden floorboards. Sunshine and rain come and go, the rare monsoon closed off from the interior by its sturdy walls; snow falls silently, melting quietly into new blooms, green giving way to golden brown, and again. He’s not sure how long he’s been lying here, just that when he finally does move, his joints creak like the old wooden door hinges, windows that haven’t been opened groaning under the simple movement.

From the front door, he hears people talking.

A good bit of eavesdropping supplies Jimin with sufficient information that a total of six people, all male, will be moving in in the next week, and all of them are university students of varying ages. They seem to get along well, friends probably, and they immediately decide to rent the hanok, though not without some careful prodding.

“You mentioned that it hasn’t been inhabited for quite some time, correct?” One of them, Jimin believes his name is Namjoon, asked, peering into all of the rooms. Out of all of them, he’s the best-spoken of the bunch, and Jimin takes an immediate shine to him. “It seems to be in good condition.”

The owner, a middle-aged fellow Jimin’s never seen before, chuckles, standing a little straighter with his hands behind his back. “Of course, I’ve seen to it that someone comes along to clean it every month or so. I’ve also reinforced its infrastructure up to the latest building code.”

Namjoon nods, and Jimin can feel his eyes rolling all the way to the back of his head. It’s hard to say how much time has passed, but Jimin is fairly certain no one has set foot here in the last decade or so. It’s a well-built hanok for sure, but more than human factors contribute to its unfaltering through the years.

Which is why Jimin has no qualms in tripping the man up as he walks down the stone platform, watching him flush in embarrassment when Namjoon turns to look at him.

“Are you alright?”

The man mumbles about tripping on thin air, then hurrying off with the excuse of checking up on the others. Jimin, with nothing better to do, follows, though not before catching a glimpse of Namjoon walking into the courtyard, taking in the greenery with interest. Yeah, Jimin definitely likes him.

They come upon a group of three, one slightly shorter than the others. It’s this one that seems the most invested in the architecture, and perhaps one of the more shrewd ones, firing off question after question to the landlord, from the infrastructure to the lease, making sure that the landlord promises to hand them their contract if they do decide on renting the hanok. It’s rather impressive, in Jimin’s opinion, especially considering how young they are, that at least one of them seems to know all the right questions to ask. He doesn’t speak quite as diplomatically as Namjoon, but—Yoongi is it?—nonetheless polite, if not a little sharp. The other two don’t ask as much, but they listen attentively, and the tallest one—who also happens to be the most handsome—Jimin deduces to be the eldest, since all of them refer to him as their hyung.

Most of what the landlord says is technically correct, so Jimin spares him from sprawling this time around, silently accompanying him to find the last two.

Jimin guesses that they’re the youngest, as they call all the others their hyungs. From what Jimin has gathered, they’ve explored the entire layout of the hanok, and upon hearing what their hyungs relay to them, they go along with whatever they say, seemingly content with what they’ve seen and heard.

“Now it’s time to choose our rooms.” The eldest—Jin?—announces, as they’ve decided to rent the hanok. “As the eldest, I call dibs on the biggest room.”

“Shouldn’t we play rock paper scissors?” One of the youngest, Jimin thinks his name is Jeongguk, pipes up, a sparkle in his eye.

“No, no, no.” The sharp-tongued one, Yoongi, quickly intervenes. “We should go by age, and two people should share the biggest bedroom.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” Namjoon interjects. “There are other bedrooms that are spacious enough for two.”

“Yeah, but that’s the biggest so it makes sense.”

“How about we play ‘climb the ladder’?” One of the shorter ones, who hasn’t said anything yet, suggests, effectively silencing the rest. “And we all draw some lines so no one can cheat.”

It sounds fun, so Jimin sticks around to watch, noticing that they’ve ended two as the main bedroom, meaning whoever gets those will automatically have to share.

The six rock paper scissors to decide who goes first, and one of the youngest, who hadn’t spoken much, smirks when he gets first pick; his smile quickly falls when he draws the smallest of the rooms, and the others are even faster to tease him, though it’s all very lighthearted from what Jimin can tell.

The biggest room in the middle ends up going to Seokjin—Jimin learns from the paper they’re using to play—and Jeongguk, and the other three get the middles-sized ones. Despite their age difference, there isn’t much of a gap between how they interact with each other, which fascinates Jimin since his last model of human interaction was from at least ten years ago, and humans seemed to have changed quite a bit since then.

As he watches them leave, laughing and discussing where to celebrate this “victory”, something stirs in his gut, a long lost feeling that tingles and spreads through his person. It’s fluttering, and light, not at all a bad sensation.

It takes Jimin a while to pinpoint what it is: excitement.

They move in soon after, boxes and suitcases and carrier bags all piling up in the living room. It’s a hot summer day, all six of them lying down on the floor for a bit, catching their breath.

Jimin observes them from his perch among the rafters, noting how the sunlight dances on their skin, sweat glistening golds, chests rising and falling in tempo. It’s such an insignificant thing on the grand scale of things, such as the fact that Jimin’s about to have six new and alive roommates, yet so different from Jimin himself, his ashen grey skin missing the healthy glow of beings of the light.

“I don’t think we need to unpack everything today, right?” Yoongi asks, pale skin flushed a pretty pink. “Just things we need now.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Seokjin fans himself with one hand, then grabbing Jeongguk’s hand to do the same. The effectiveness seems questionable, but Jimin doesn’t want to reveal himself yet. “I’m feeling takeout fried chicken and soju.”

“I want hamburgers.” Taehyung calls out, immediately followed by Namjoon: “Japchae sounds nice too. But shouldn’t we eat jajangmyeon?”

“Why don’t we order all of those things?” Sitting up, Hoseok stretches out his limbs. “I think we’d be able to eat all of that.”

“Well, JK certainly can.” Seokjin remarks, earning a light thump to his chest for that. From what Jimin can tell, it’s more playful than reproachful, though Seokjin does put on a decently convincing hurt face, causing Jeongguk to giggle.

 “So hamburgers, jajangmyeon, fried chicken, japchae, and soju?” Yoongi seems to have taken it upon himself to order, sitting up and grabbing his phone. It’s much smaller than the models Jimin last remembers seeing, the screen bigger and much more colorful. And they can directly order food from it? Interesting. “I’m ordering six servings of each, they should be here in...half an hour.”

Flopping over to face Yoongi, perspiration dots Namjoon’s face and exposed arms, honey-toned skin coated in sweat. “How much is that, hyung?”

 “Don’t worry about it.” Yoongi says, waving him off with a hand. “Hyung will pay for it.”

“No, I’m the eldest, I should pay.” Seokjin rebuts. Jeongguk, not missing a beat, answers with “of course”, and the smack that follows comes at no surprise to Jimin. Even in this short amount of time, their dynamic, though strange to him, has been the most clear cut to Jimin—playful and chaotic, carefully toeing the line of hyung and dongsaeng, balancing respect and brattiness—from both sides—as two long term dance partners might.

“Let’s just split the bill.” Hoseok raises his hand, whether to stretch or to catch their attention, Jimin has no idea. “Hyung already paid for more of the rent, I think it’s only fair if we pull our own weight in food.”

Yoongi relents, and despite them stating no need to finish unpacking, they still get up and continue their work, stopping when the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it.” Taehyung volunteers, Jeongguk dogging his footsteps to go retrieve their food.

Considering how loud and rowdy they had been during the day, they eat in relative silence, exchanging few words if any, the most they talk about is how amazing the food is, between bites and slurps.

With the sun fully resided beneath the horizon, the moon and her stars have taken their place, shrouding the hanok in quiet darkness, offset only by the new inhabitants within.

Perhaps it’s his newly found excitement wearing him out, the buzz from the day dying down, Jimin finds his consciousness slowly drifting, merging into one with his belongings, human chatter fading into the background as he slowly breathes out...and lets go.

Hoseok is like, two hundred percent sure that the house is haunted. That’s a thing, right? It means that if anyone doubts him he’ll smack them.

“If any of you doubt me, someone’s going to get smacked.” He says.

The hanok they’ve rented out isn’t the biggest, nor anywhere near that category, which makes fitting six fully grown men into the tiny courtyard a bit of a hassle. Nonetheless Hoseok has managed to get them all out, on a Saturday morning no less, to talk about their house. That they’ve rented for three years. And is most definitely haunted.

“Wait.” Namjoon holds up his hands, calm and collected, though his brows are furrowed, taking Hoseok’s concerns into serious consideration, which Hoseok highly appreciates. “How do you know it’s haunted?”

So Hoseok launches into his story, about how he had really needed to pee in the middle of the night, had walked down the narrow walkway to get to the bathroom, and when he reached over to flick on the lights—they turned on by themselves, almost like someone was there.

“I swear my hand hadn’t touched it.” Hoseok says to the other five people. Namjoon looks thoughtful, while Seokjin and Jungkook seem mildly alarmed. Taehyung’s face has remained completely blank throughout his story, making it impossible to gauge what he’s thinking, and Yoongi is...he looks sleepy, and uninterested, but his eyes are on Hoseok, implying that he was probably listening?

Namjoon is someone Hoseok had been acquainted with through their few shared college courses, and Namjoon had introduced him to Seokjin and Jungkook, the former a senior well on his way to graduation, the latter a bright-eyed freshman. Originally they had intended to rent out an apartment together, just the four of them, but then Hoseok had met Yoongi, and they became fast friends despite their contrasting personalities, and Yoongi had tugged Taehyung in tow, a year younger than Hoseok but so cute that he had immediately took a liking to him, much like he had to Jungkook.

Long story short, all these happenings led to the six of them looking for a place they could maybe rent together, hopefully in the same complex but different rooms, because privacy is a thing and logically there would be no space they could afford that would allow them to all live behind one front door.

Except there was.

Through some mysterious cosmic aligning shit, Seokjin had seen an ad posted online by some random old man, that he had an entire hanok open for rent, which just so happened to be in Seoul at an alarmingly cheap price. Hoseok remembers the house tour, recalls the old man saying some stuff, but now that he’s really thinking about it, he can’t seem to remember what the old man looked like, and wait, didn’t the lights turn on by themselves back then, too?

“Maybe the light is faulty? We could get someone to look at it.” Yoongi suggests, small mouth in a pout. Hoseok looks away, not quite ready to give up. “But what if it isn’t faulty? What are we going to do then?”

They’ve finally, fully settled into their new living quarters, several weeks subsequent to moving in. All the boxes have been unpacked, things organized and put where they should be, the hanok just starting to feel less like an abandoned century-old house and more like something resembling a home. Starting, though not there yet, not by a long shot in Hoseok’s book. 

Seokjin shrugs, and everyone turns to look at him. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, let’s not worry too much about something we’re not a hundred percent about, alright?”

“Ugh fine.” Hoseok knows a losing battle when he sees one, and right now he can tell that no one is convinced that he’s telling the truth.

“I’m going back to my room.”

Hoseok slides the hanji-pasted door shut behind him, taking in a deep breath.

He manages to open the door before he hears footsteps behind him, and it’s not entirely surprising when Hoseok turns around and finds a pair of big doe eyes staring right back at him.

Jeongguk fidgets under his gaze, glancing down before looking up again, voice wavering in the early morning: “hyung, are you leaving?”

Taken aback, Hoseok blinks a few times before shaking his head, closing the minuscule distance between them. He’s always found Jeongguk’s eyes pretty, how they glitter under the morning sun, sparkle with moonlight and stardust at night; and now, despite it being slightly inappropriate since Jeongguk looks five seconds away from crying, they look especially breathtaking, filled to the brim with unshed emotions just for him to see.

 “Of course not.” Hoseok is quick to sooth him, gathering his larger dongsaeng into his arms. Jeongguk goes willingly, somehow making himself smaller in Hoseok’s embrace, head burrowing into Hoseok’s neck, and oh no, is that a sniffle he heard?

“Ah, Jeonggukie, don’t cry, hyung’s not going anywhere.” He pats Jeongguk’s head, fluffy curls bouncing under his ministrations.

Jeongguk doesn’t dignify that with an answer, instead hugging Hoseok back twice as strong, nearly lifting him off his feet. Somehow, between moving in and starting the semester, Jeongguk had managed to buff up, and it shows when Hoseok pats his forearm to let him go and Jeongguk refuses to comply, walking them towards Hoseok’s room in an awkward two-legged shuffle.

Huffing a laugh, Hoseok rocks them back and forth in time with their weird tango. “Don’t make us fall, JK.” He sings, wriggling exaggeratedly causing Jeongguk to giggle, though not at all deterring him from his ‘mission’. “Gonna take a nap, JK.” Which is totally true, given that he had barely been able to get a wink of sleep after his ghostly encounter.

“Let me sleep with you.” Jeongguk blurts out, right outside Hoseok’s room. They come to a stop, Hoseok pulling back in time to see Jeongguk’s face flush a healthy rose pink, ducking his head to avoid Hoseok’s gaze.

“Not, not in a weird way, just, I’m not afraid of ghosts, and if they bother you I can help?” Jeongguk’s near mumbling, and if not for their close proximity Hoseok might have missed it. He finds himself hopelessly endeared by his bunny lookalike dongsaeng, who had run out after him and then refused to let him go, even offering Hoseok whatever protection he could.

Not that Hoseok had been thinking about moving out so soon, but it’s heartwarming to know that someone cares about him so openly, so deeply.

“Okay, Jeonggukie.” Hoseok turns in his embrace, sliding open the doors. “Let’s sleep together, hm?”

It’s a little known fact that Taehyung can’t sleep well without hugging something.

He’s never made a point to broadcast this weakness of his, and from his elementary school experience it’s been made crystal clear that even the slightest hint at it could get him ridiculed, and that’s an experience Taehyung doesn’t need twice.

They say people mature; but bullies do not.

Truth be told, Taehyung doesn’t mind his smaller room. Jeongguk and Seokjin are nice enough to lend him some space in theirs, and most of his toiletries are kept in the shared bathroom. As for all his tools for various clothing design and fashion related courses, he’s left most of them either at the workshop on campus, or in his secluded corner in the study (which actually isn’t very secluded but that’s okay).

Yet despite how uncluttered his room is compared to before moving into the hanok, Taehyung finds it hard to fall asleep, even as slumber beckons behind his eyelids, body succumbing to fatigue while his mind remains fully awake.

Perhaps it really was fate that his body pillow was stolen from him. Maybe it was a bad omen when Taehyung couldn’t find it in the washing machine, despite only leaving for a quick run to the convenience store. And with classes piling up, assignment after assignment weighing him down, Taehyung barely has energy to shop for anything, every meal something quickly shoved down his gullet barely chewed.

Week three at the hanok, Taehyung thinks to himself hazily. He’s hoping with time that he’ll be able to buy a new body pillow, or his body will finally get used to being alone in bed.

Either way, Taehyung just really wants to get some real sleep.

He closes his eyes, and the strangest yet most comforting sensation comes over him—or rather, his hand.

“I’m serious guys, this house is haunted.”

Taehyung blinks awake at Hoseok’s declaration, and notices Jeongguk across from him do the same.

Not all Saturdays mornings are spent together, around the small dining table like this. Usually one or more of them have some schedule, or they’re sleeping in, although to be fair it’s only been three weeks, so maybe Taehyung is overthinking it.

“Why do you think it’s haunted?”

Namjoon, ever the diplomatic one.

Hoseok launches into this story about how the light turned on in the middle of the night during his toilet run, but Taehyung can’t help but notice how animated he gets while speaking, eyebrows moving up and down, voice pitching up at the most stressful points of the story (which is to say, most of it), the way Hoseok imitates the sound of the light switch and what he thinks were ghostly footsteps.

Taehyung is roused out of his half daze when Yoongi answers Hoseok with another question: “maybe the switch is faulty? We could get someone to check it.”

“Maybe.” Hoseok doesn’t look convinced. “But what if it isn’t?”

Yoongi shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of rice. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. There’s no use in worrying about milk that hasn’t been spilled.”

Hoseok looks troubled, as does Seokjin. Personally Taehyung isn’t too bothered, because like Yoongi said, they’re not even a hundred percent certain if it’s this or that, and it’s only been a one-time thing. Though the landlord had spewed a whole speech claiming that he had updated the house to modern standards, it’s still an old house, and faulty light switches feel more manageable than leaky roofs or a malfunctioning ondol system.

Taehyung starts collecting the empty bowls and plates once everyone is finished, some of them having already left, Hoseok followed closely by Jeongguk. Sweat drips down his forehead as he scrubs and cleans, sunlight pouring in from the tiny window in front of the sink. It’s a beautiful day, Taehyung muses, if not a bit too hot.

A sudden puff of wind sends his bangs fluttering, cooling off some of the heat. Taehyung blinks, hands stilling by the sink. The kitchen is a fairly narrow one, not exactly small, but definitely not wide enough for two to stand shoulder to shoulder, so a quick look around confirms that there’s no one else here, no fan in sight, and no window or door open nearby.

There’s this strange tension in the air, almost palpable to the touch. Almost like…someone’s watching him.

“Are you the ghost Hoseok hyung met?” Taehyung calls out into the air. He feels a little silly immediately after, glad that no one is here to see him talking to thin air. But Taehyung’s always been one to go after his gut feeling, and this time is no different.

“I promise I won’t freak out.” Taehyung says, resuming his dishwashing in feigned nonchalance. “It was really nice of you to send that wind to me.”

Not sure what to expect—maybe he’s been talking to himself this whole time—Taehyung startles when another gust of wind tickles his neck, though quickly regaining his composure, a flurry of excitement swirling in his stomach.

There are questions on the tip of his tongue; things he’s always wondered but could never talk to anyone about. But Taehyung doesn’t want to scare away his new friend—however ironic that may sound—so he settles for an easier question:

“What are your pronouns?”

So perhaps Hoseok had been onto something.

That’s the first thought that crosses Jeongguk’s mind when the bathroom floods with light, his finger hovering just above the light switch, not quite touching it.

If asked, Jeongguk had always been more of the “see it and believe it” type. Not to say that he flat out refused to acknowledge the possible existence of gwisin and the like, mind you, he just preferred to live in the moment, and if no mythical creatures were busting his microwave, what business did he have with them?

(Microwaves are way more dangerous anyway.)

“Hello?” Jeongguk calls out softly, mindful of all his sleeping hyungs. Usually he’s not a midnight urinater, but something about cuddling Hoseok (or more accurately, being cuddled by him) and getting his middle section squeezed has definitely sped up the process.

Predictably, no one answers. Wind blows through the courtyard rustling the leaves on Namjoon’s bonsai trees, and Jeongguk shivers, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Nothing happens while he’s doing his business, and the only other discrepancy of his night is the light turning off the moment Jeongguk sets foot outside the small enclosed space.

If there is a ghost, a gwisin or otherwise, at least it seems to be pretty considerate.

“Thank you.” Jeongguk whispers into the night, making sure to bow. And just as he’s straightening up, something rustles his hair. The wind, maybe, but it feels more like a soft caress.

The whole incident kind of slips from Jeongguk’s mind, schoolwork among other things taking priority, until the next time they’re all together, and Hoseok asks offhandedly if any of them had met the ghost.

Recalling his encounter, how the ghost had seemed pretty harmless, Jeongguk tells the group as much, between bites of rice and gulps of soup.

“See? I told you there’s something here!” Hoseok’s lips are downturned into a frown, breakfast half forgotten in front of him, not the slightest bit appeased by Jeongguk’s vouching for the “toilet ghost”, as they’ve so dubbed it.

“But there’s nothing we can do about it.” Yoongi states bluntly from Jeongguk’s other side. “None of us are shamans, and it’s way too expensive to hire one or move out now.”

Of course, Yoongi is right. The whole point of renting this house together was to save money and have a friend nearby in case of emergencies, and there’s absolutely no way Hoseok will be able to fund a place as cheap as close to the heart of Seoul by himself.

Hoseok knows this, frown prominent on his face as he slowly polishes off the remnants of his breakfast. Jeongguk feels a strong urge to wipe the expression off his face, and that’s when Namjoon speaks up.

“What if we speak to the ghost? Jeongguk, you said they seemed to be listening, maybe we can tell them to not haunt the bathroom?”

Blinking, Jeongguk blanks for a second, losing his chance to reply as Hoseok answers before him: “if that’s the case, couldn’t we just ask them to leave the hanok?”

Namjoon looks thoughtful, yet it’s Taehyung that answers Hoseok.

“Since they were here before us, wouldn’t it be rude of us to ask them to leave?” Taehyung asks the room at large. His face is carefully blank, devoid of any emotion. It’s impossible for Jeongguk to decipher anything but pure calm from his hyung, and it seems to ring true for the others as well.

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asks.

Taehyung blinks, as if not understanding the question. “Maybe they don’t know how to live with other people since they’re a ghost. I mean, we never really set any house rules.”

“Wait.” Seokjin holds out one hand, face screwed up in confusion. “Are you saying that we’re being haunted because...we haven’t set any hard house rules?”

“But even if we do,” interjects Hoseok, not looking at all pleased with how the conversation has turned about, “who’s to say that the ghost will abide by them?”

“You never know unless you try it.” Taehyung counters, shoulders coming up. “It’s not like there’s anything else we can do. And Jeonggukie said that the ghost was pretty nice, right?”

Having all of their attention suddenly refocused on him is a feeling Jeongguk may never get accustomed to. Ducking his head, Jeongguk startles when a hand squeezes at his thigh, turning around only for Yoongi to pull away immediately, as if it hadn’t happened. Jeongguk misses his touch immediately, but that’s weird, right?

He looks back up, only to find all of them looking at him. Oh, right.

“I think so?” He says, trying again when next to him Hoseok tenses. “It didn’t play any tricks on me, and it responded when I said thank you.”

“Then let’s try it.” Yoongi makes eye contact with each and every one of them, gaze sharp enough to make Jeongguk want to look away, despite speaking his truth. “It would also be nice to have some base rules that everyone should follow.”

“I’ll go first.” Though still looking extremely skeptical of the whole notion, Hoseok is the first to lay down rules: “everyone should clean up after themselves. Don’t leave things all over the place, and unfinished food should go into the fridge properly zip-locked or otherwise.”

It’s strangely detailed in a way that gives Jeongguk a niggling suspicion that this is something that’s been bugging Hoseok for a while. He thinks back to his own household rules, and how he’s been doing here. Thankfully no memory of leaving food to spoil comes to mind, though it also reminds Jeongguk of something that he’s been meaning to bring up but always forgot.

“Any objections? Or does anyone want to add anything to that?” From some place yonder Namjoon produces pen and paper, jotting down Hoseok’s suggestion, addressing the room at large. “Alright, so that’s settled. What else?”

“Um.” Jeongguk raises his hand, and he hears Yoongi mutter a “cute”, sending a warm wave of, something, from his ears all the way to his heart. “Maybe everyone could put their shoes away when indoors? There’s a shoe rack in front of the living room, and we can put our shoes by the side of other doors so nobody trips on them.”

“I’m okay with that.” Seokjin speaks up for the first time, Jeongguk realizes, having not given any opinion either way since the start. “Should we set up a rotating schedule of chores as well? And if anyone can’t finish theirs, they can switch with someone else.”

Somehow they’ve managed to turn this ghost situation into a small family-ish meeting, warming Jeongguk’s person in a strange way he has no words to describe. Since cooking and dishwashing has already been divided into two groups, those who can cook and those who cannot, those two are discussed among the two, while other things, such as taking out the trash, sweeping the floors, cleaning the bathrooms, and washing the clothes, are distributed by weeks or days between the six.

“If everything’s settled, I’m heading out. I’ll probably be back before dinner, so if we need to buy anything just text me, alright?” Seokjin stands, looking at all of them in turn before leaving, only stopping in his tracks when Taehyung blurts out: “wait! We should set rules as to when or where they shouldn’t haunt the house.”

There’s this strange energy around Taehyung, not malicious, but like...something. The problem is, Jeongguk has no idea as to what that might be.

“They?” Namjoon latches onto a separate issue, Taehyung visibly straightening up as he answers: “we don’t know if they’re a boy or a girl, right?”

Chin raised, eyes staring straight at Namjoon, it’s a defiant look Jeongguk has never seen on Taehyung, certainly not directed at one of their hyungs. Seokjin and Yoongi are looking between them, the latter warily eyeing Taehyung like he might bite. Hoseok beside Jeongguk is silent, tense in a way that makes Jeongguk want to scoot away.

He doesn’t, and the moment passes when Namjoon blinks, nodding in agreement to Taehyung: “that’s very considerate of you. If you want them to respect our boundaries, then it’s only fair that we respect theirs.”

The whole room releases a collective breath of relief, or maybe it’s just Jeongguk, but his hyungs all look a fraction more relaxed than a second ago, so perhaps not.

“The bathroom?” Yoongi suggests, looking at Hoseok to confirm. Nodding, Hoseok slides an arm across the back of Jeongguk’s chair, clearly more comfortable discussing this particular topic. “Also our rooms? I don’t want to wake up someday and find someone standing by my bedside.”

There’s a funny look on Taehyung’s face at Hoseok’s proposal, resembling that of when he suggested setting “haunting boundaries”; again, something Jeongguk can’t quite pinpoint, and it bothers him that he can’t figure it out.

“I guess the shared spaces in general when we’re in them?” Namjoon’s suggestion is met with several nodding heads, though Jeonguuk notices Taehyung hesitating before joining in.

Huh.

“So when we’re not here, they can roam around freely, right?” At everyone’s expressions, Taehyung adds: “don’t you guys think it would be very miserable to be confined to one place forever?”

Jeongguk can tell that Hoseok isn’t quite buying it, heart-shaped lips and eyebrows pinched, none of his usual playfulness. Honestly, in Jeongguk’s opinion, it’s a miracle Taehyung hasn’t buckled under that gaze.

Namjoon, thankfully, intervenes with: “I think it’s fine. So far they haven’t really done anything malicious, so I think it’s safe to assume that as long as we don’t provoke them, they won’t cause us any harm.” He looks around the room, words left open, inviting anyone to state their truth. When no one does, Namjoon smiles, Jeongguk sneakily taking in a breath at the sight of his dimples. Beside him, Yoongi snorts, amused gaze flitting from Jeongguk to Namjoon.

Alright, Jeongguk thinks, cheeks most certainly flaming red, maybe not so sneaky.

Arguably, Namjoon could say it’s not entirely his fault that he hadn’t noticed the ghost.

Ever since laying down the house rules, zero supernatural occurrences have come to light. No one has claimed to have interacted with them, nor has Namjoon personally ran into their resident ghost. Not that he has before, prior to Hoseok bringing it up, but since then he’s made a point to keep an eye out for any unusual activity within their hanok, just in case.

It’s less about whether Namjoon as an atheist believes in ghosts, or supernatural beings in general, and more about him looking out for his friends and housemates. Of course there’s the whole issue of them splitting the rent, but most importantly, these are people Namjoon cares about. Whenever someone’s lips downturn, the spark leaves their eyes, even if he might not be able to personally eradicate the problem, Namjoon wants to make sure that they at least know they have an ally in him.

(Taehyung calls him The Big Friendly Giant.)

Anyway, he digresses.

Friendly or not, however, Namjoon often feels like the giant part of that particular nickname is extremely apt. He tries his best to be careful, always mindful of how much space he takes up, how much force to put into a task, yet somehow, some way, he continuously manages to break things.

Just the other day Yoongi had to fix the doors to the living room, having fallen off when Namjoon tried to close them. Yoongi had said he doesn’t mind, it’s just a small thing, easy to fix, but Namjoon can’t help but feel apologetic towards his housemates.

And now, looking at the broken shards of his coffee mug, said coffee spilled all over the floor, guilt threatens to override all other rational thought, the icy coldness of the coffee seeping through his socks his sole tethering point to now.

It’s quiet in the hanok, no one but Namjoon around. Seokjin had left early in the morning, rushing off to auditions and job interviews, seeing as he’s graduating very soon; Taehyung and Jeongguk are on campus, both finishing midterm projects of their respective majors, Hoseok doing something similar, though in a nearby dance studio. Apparently he was well acquainted with the dance scene around Seoul, even won a few competitions back as a high schooler, which Namjoon only learned of a couple weeks before? He knew Hoseok was on some sort of scholarship that helped with the bills, but Namjoon had never pushed to know, Hoseok constantly seeming to not want to talk about himself.

As for Yoongi, he mentioned shopping for some architect supplies, notebooks and pens, and also tracing paper; at least that’s what Namjoon caught, he may have missed a couple given that Yoongi had mumbled it out before coffee.

So now it’s just Namjoon, his former mug, and spilled coffee.

Unfortunately－or fortunately, depends on how one looks at the situation－Namjoon is well versed with how to clean up after these sorts of messes; undoubtedly unfortunately though, he understands how to do it, but he’s terrible at execution.

“Yah, Namjoon-ah, go sit down and check if you have any injuries, the mug can wait.”  

There’s this nagging voice in his head that sounds uncannily like Yoongi, low with a bit of a rumble. Despite the situation, it brings a smile to Namjoon’s lips, heaving a sigh before carefully picking his way out of the mess. He doesn’t think he’s injured, there’s no pain shooting up his foot when he puts pressure on either of his feet, but that’s not to say it won’t happen if Namjoon’s not careful.

It also helps that Namjoon knows where the first aid kit is, luckily also in the living room, beneath one of the couches. While he crouches down to search for it－it should be under the cushions, did someone move it?－he hears soft tinkling noises as a light breeze enters the room. Namjoon pays no attention to it, mind focused on the task at hand, finally finding the kit in the opposite smaller sofa.

“Okay, at least there are no injuries.” Namjoon breathes out a sigh of relief, lying the coffee soaked socks beside him prior to putting the first aid kit back where it belongs. “Good job, Namjoon. Now I should get some newspapers and the broom to sweep up the mug shards. Where are the－oh, here are the newspapers. And the broom is...”

Muttering to himself, Namjoon leaves the living room to fetch the broom.

He gets a message from Yoongi while he’s out, telling him that he’s coming back to the hanok, asking if he’d like him to buy lunch.

Namjoon

Whatever you like, hyung!

Yoongi hyung

How does tteokbokki and fried chicken sound?

Namjoon

Sounds good!

By the time Namjoon gets back to the living room, a good ten minutes have passed; he can’t help it, he had to check on his bonsai plants, Namjoon recalls watering them this morning, but one could never be too sure.

“Ah, I hope I can get the coffee stains off of the floor.” Namjoon internally winces thinking about the smooth wooden floorboards now soaking in coffee, kept clean and pristine for so long, only for him to bumble along and dirty them in the few months they’ve lived here.

He is totally unprepared for the sight that greets him; or rather, the lack of one.

For where previously his mug had lain in pieces, spilt caffeinated goodness spread out on the floor, there is nothing there. His mug is sitting on the coffee table, absolutely no cracks to be seen, the floorboards as polished as they were every other morning, none of the mess Namjoon had made left to be found.

If Namjoon wasn’t the culprit himself, he might have chalked it up as a fever dream, something out of his imagination.

That’s when he remembers the ghost.

In all honesty, Namjoon had forgotten about them. Now though, he’s faced with the undeniable reality that there’s someone else in the room.

“Hello? Ghost-nim? Are you still here?” He calls out tentatively, peering around the room for good measure. “If you’re listening, thank you for cleaning up all of that and fixing my mug, it really means a lot to me.”

Namjoon bows for good measure, straightening up when he feels a light wind caress his shoulder. Suddenly, the air in the room feels a lot more heavier; it’s like whoever is here is nervous, and that energy is floating through the air, so palpable Namjoon is surprised he never noticed it.

Or maybe they’ve always been good at hiding their presence, Namjoon is just picking up on it because they want him to.

He wonders if the ghost has a more physical, seeable form, or if they only exist in the most Descartes-esque form possible; he wonders if they’ve been lonely, or if they have friends outside the hanok.

Most of all, he wonders if they like them.

Thoughts of a similar flow flood Namjoon’s brain in a second, before receding, like a tide, back into the deeper recesses of his mind. He recalls, distantly, Jeongguk calling the ghost friendly, prompting another question to the forefront of his mind.

It’s a short walk from the living room to Namjoon’s room, the midday sun bathing their courtyard blindingly bright, heat seeping into his pores, squeezing out perspiration in droplets. As a perpetually sweaty person, Namjoon has resigned himself to a life of sweaty armpits and sticky clothes, but the hanok so far has proved to be just as their predecessors had planned it, the temperature cooling down a few degrees once he steps indoors.

Now though, Namjoon has a hunch it might be more than just the house’s doing.

As Namjoon turns around to slide the door shut, he thinks better of it and leaves a gap. There’s no foolproof way for him to be sure that the ghost had followed him, yet taking into account that it’s just him and them home, and that they had come so readily when Namjoon got himself in trouble, he thinks it’s safe to assume they have.

The landlord had left behind some trinkets and stuff in general around the house, stating that they were free to use anything that might be lying around, going so far as to pen it down on the contract, a rare act if Namjoon’s ever saw one.

And in Namjoon’s room, at the corner by the foot of the mattress, there’s each a set of janggi and baduk, indicative of the former owner’s personal taste. He takes both in his hands, turning around to face the doorway－where presumably the ghost is.

“Ghost-nim, if it’s not too bothersome for you, would you want to play either of these with me?” Namjoon sets them down, not wanting to seem too presumptuous. “Of course I am no professional, but if you’re interested?”

He leaves the question open, and after a moment, that same soft wind that Namjoon had felt in the living room brushes against him.

When Seokjin walks into the kitchen and sees an unfamiliar figure inside, he does what any sane person would. He quickly fills his lungs with air, body recoiling and muscles tensing as he lets out the loudest sound in the highest pitch he can physically muster in such short notice.

Which is to say, he screams.

“AAAAAAHHHHH－”

If asked later what he was hoping to accomplish, Seokjin would reply indignantly that at the very least, his body wouldn’t be found the next morning, already gone cold, that hopefully one of his five housemates would hear his cry for help and come looking.

The other person visibly startles, shimmering－shimmering?－in and out of existence as they trip over thin air turning around, and then promptly vanishing from sight.

And that. That startles Seokjin out of his current panicky state right into what he can’t say, just that he stops screaming, right as footsteps sound from the toenmaru running along the exterior.

“Hyung?” It’s Yoongi, feet skidding to a halt beside Seokjin, because of course it is, and his presence alone calms Seokjin down more than he’s willing to admit. “Hyung, I heard you screaming, are you alright?”

But now that he’s here, Seokjin finds himself at a loss; how does Seokjin explain he just saw someone disappear into thin air? That’s, okay, that’s probably their ghost friend, but still, will they even believe him?

Taking in Seokjin’s silence, Yoongi looks past him to the kitchen, “did you see something? Did something happen? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I, no, I’m fine.” That at least Seokjin can answer. “Just, I think I saw our seventh housemate?”

At that Yoongi turns back to look at him, the rest of their housemates having gathered outside as well. Catching onto the tail end of his sentence, Taehyung squeezes to the front, right past Yoongi into the kitchen.

“Jiminie?”

Jiminie?

“If you’re here, please come out.” Taehyung turns a full circle, eyes going to the ceiling and various corners of the room, as Seokjin simultaneously has several revelations. Clearly, he’s addressing the ghost. Clearly, there’s something Taehyung knows that Seokjin is not yet privy to.

The rest of them seem just as mystified as Seokjin, which makes him feel marginally better.

Well, until an unnatural breeze wafts into the kitchen, and Namjoon gasps in epiphany, realization written all over his face: “wait, is ghost-nim’s name Jimin?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, and even Jeongguk lets out a small “oh”, large moist eyes round as saucers, joining Taehyung’s side with a hand on his shoulder, and then it was just Seokjin and Hoseok, the latter looking even more uneasy than someone who had just seen a ghost.

Taehyung, however, pays them no mind, swiveling in the direction of the wind, towards the end of their narrow kitchen. “Jimin-ah, please come out.” Voice low and softer than Seokjin has ever heard, it could almost be mistaken for a lullaby. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

It takes a moment, but slowly, a person materializes right in front of their eyes.

With skin an ashen grey, wearing a traditional hanbok, the person who appears in front of them looks to be about their age, black hair secured in a traditional sangtu.

He appears nervous, gaze flitting from Taehyung and Jeongguk to the rest of them, bowing tentatively to them.

“Hello.” The ghost－Jimin says. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.”

The kitchen, as it is, is too small to fit all of them, so they migrate to the living room, with most of them piled onto the two tiny couches, Jimin－seemingly out of thin air－producing an embroidered cushion to sit on, while Taehyung, much to everyone’s surprise, sits next to their new companion, holding hands, which for some reason shocks Seokjin more than anything else.

He’s definitely not thinking about how he hasn’t even held Taehyung’s hand before.

“So.” Namjoon starts off, and is that anticipation in his voice? “Would you like to properly introduce yourself?”

Sitting straighter, Jimin squeezes Taehyung’s hand in his, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Seokjin.

“Hello, my name is Jimin.” He has a slightly higher voice, melodic, and his－or is it their?－speech pattern is slightly different from theirs. “I apologize for not introducing myself sooner.”

There’s a small lull following his introduction, none of them moving, Seokjin not wanting to look at any of their faces just yet.

Yoongi gestures to Jimin and Taehyung, eyebrows gathered in the middle of his forehead. “I’m guessing that you two know each other?”

Exchanging a look, this time Taehyung speaks up: “I met him on the day Hoseok hyung said he saw a ghost.”

“I’ve tried to respect the rules you all decided upon.” Jimin adds. “I’m sorry for startling you.” This he directs to Seokjin, inky black eyes intense and focused. “I didn’t notice you were coming to the kitchen.”

“It’s fine.” He waves it off. Sure, Seokjin had a fright, but he’s young and healthy, besides, it feels weird to him that Jimin should be apologizing when apparently Taehyung had been right all along, and someone had been living there way before they rented it?

“Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Namjoon leans forward, though still keeping his speech formal. “I know you didn’t sign up for having six housemates, but we didn’t expect this hanok to house a ghost, either.”

Shaking his head, Jimin wrinkles his nose at Namjoon’s last words. “I don’t mind, but um...I’m not a ghost. I’m a dokkaebi.”

Someone takes a sharp breath, and Seokjin guesses that it’s Hoseok. Jeongguk looks intrigued, because of course his childhood friend would be interested in mystical creatures, and Taehyung is completely unfazed, taking in all of their reactions.

Jimin’s lips quirk into a small smile, though not quite reaching his eyes. “I suppose you all know what a dokkaebi is?”

“I’ve heard of it.” As Namjoon answers, he chances a glance at the rest of his housemates, providing an outlet for Seokjin to do the same. Squeezed next to Jeongguk at one end of the couch allows him full view of Jeongguk’s reactions, and on the other side is Hoseok, who so far hasn’t uttered a word, face muscles taut, looking more than a little pale. Yoongi, who’s seated next to Namjoon, has also been quiet, though overall seems to be faring better than Hoseok, gaze razor sharp as he looks at Taehyung and Jimin, perhaps assessing the situation still. “Though I wouldn’t claim to know exactly what that entails.”

“Aren’t dokkaebi spirits that possess inanimate objects or things stained with human blood?” Jeongguk blurts out, before covering his mouth, mortification written all across his features as everyone turns to look at him. “Sorry, I just...that’s what I’ve read about them. You? Dokkaebi.”

“In essence, yes.” Jimin nods. “There are many kinds of dokkaebi, some more malicious than others, and our powers vary.”

“But Jimin isn’t one of the bad ones.” Taehyung butts in, something fierce laced into his voice. He’s protective of this dokkaebi, Seokjin realizes right as Yoongi speaks up: “I mean, we wouldn’t be here if he was a malicious spirit. Right, Jimin-ssi?”

There’s something close to mirth in his tone, teasing maybe, and Jimin appears a little flustered, which strikes Seokjin as strange, but then again, he’s probably the person with the least interactions with this dokkaebi, leaving him in no place to judge.

Hoseok stands up abruptly, jostling both Jeongguk and Seokjin in the process. “How are all of you so calm?” He demands, still that sickly pale sheen to his face. “Dokkaebi or gwisin, aren’t they scary at all to you guys?”

Namjoon and Yoongi stare at him while Taehyung turns to Jimin, whose face is eerily void of emotion. Jeongguk lets out a wounded sound, and Seokjin lifts his hand to massage at his nape, attempting to calm him down.

And his question makes sense, if Seokjin were to think about it. He should be scared, shouldn’t he? Dokkaebi are things of myths told by parents to scare their children into behaving, tales of them playing pranks or performing mischief in abundance.

Yet weirdly enough, despite not having any ties to Jimin, Seokjin finds himself speaking up.

“I think I would be scared if Jimin-ssi here had done anything to harm any of us.” Seokjin directs this to Hosek, before turning to Jimin. Jimin, for his part, looks even more surprised than Seokjin, which serves to calm him even more. “But we’ve lived here for, what, three months? The most I’ve heard of is him switching the lights on and off for us.”

“He also fixes things that Namjoon here broke.” Yoongi provides helpfully, Namjoon ducking his head, cheeks red as he mumbles something about playing janggi.

None of this, however, seems to appease Hoseok in the slightest. In fact, he looks even more agitated than before, gesturing with his hands: “and you’re not afraid that we might’ve selled our souls to him or anything? Maybe the contract we signed－”

“Yah.” Yoongi interrupts him. He doesn’t raise his voice, yet the warning note is clear as day. “Jung Hoseok, calm down.”

Stunned, none of them speak, Hoseok staring at Yoongi for a few heartbeats before－

“Catch him!” Jimin shouts as Hoseok’s eyes roll to the back of his head, legs folding as he crumples to the ground.

Part 6.

Someone joins Jimin on the toenmaru, sitting next to him.

“Don’t beat yourself up.” It’s Namjoon. “He’ll come around.”

Whether he means that in more than one way, Namjoon doesn’t elaborate, and Jimin’s afraid to ask.

Jeongguk, being closest to Hoseok, had managed to catch him before he hit the ground. They had then moved him to his own room to rest, while some of them stayed by his side, others moved to other activities. Others, as in Seokjin, volunteered to make everyone a late night snack, and Yoongi, who joined him in the kitchen to help.

The moon in her nightly trajectory has gone by the top of their heads, slowly dipping down into the horizon. It’s way past any of their bedtimes, Jimin remembers guiltily, because he had slipped up.

He had slipped up, and now they’re here, with Hoseok unconscious, all of them losing a whole night’s worth of sleep.

Are they going to ask him to leave? To never show his face again? Or will they move out as soon as possible? Maybe they had been fine with living with a supernatural being before, but after this incident Jimin’s not so sure, and it squeezes at his lungs, his chest tight with some unknown emotion that eats away at his mind, focus wavering as he struggles to retain his human form.

“I want to apologize to you.”

Namjoon’s words jolt Jimin temporarily out of his spiral, neck snapping in his haste to turn towards his companion.

“To me?” Jimin repeats. Namjoon dips his head in acknowledgement, a small, barely there smile gracing his lips.

“We should have eased Hoseok into your presence sooner, and also Seokjin hyung. It was inconsiderate for those of us who have interacted with you to withhold information so critical from them, even if it may have been out of good intentions.”

It doesn’t make sense to Jimin, and he voices out as much. “But I never showed myself to any of you except Taehyung, and none of you wanted a seventh housemate to begin with.”

Humming, Namjoon slowly nods, body angled in Jimin’s direction while his eyes aren’t quite as focused on him. He’s considerate that way, Jimin thinks, and it purely serves to add to the affection he already holds for this human.

“That’s true.” He acquiesces. “But we－I didn’t make any effort to make it easier on any of you, so I still think I should apologize.”

“I accept your apology.” In a way, Jimin can see Namjoon’s point. He may not wholly agree with it, but he senses that it’s something Namjoon believes he should do, and he wants to respect his wishes as much as possible.

At that, Namjoon smiles, dimples popping out. Jimin resists the urge to poke them, as that’s much too informal and impolite, instead focusing on the light, feathery feeling in his chest at the sight of them. Strangely, Namjoon’s dimples alone feel like enough to brighten his mood, to loosen the invisible vice around his torso.

“I wasn’t able to say this earlier,” Namjoon says, something at the edges of his smile softer,almost tender, “but I’m really glad to meet you in person.”

Maybe it’s the way Namjoon phrased it, or simply the fact that Jimin hasn’t interacted with any one human this much or in this manner, Jimin’s cheeks heat up involuntarily, curling into himself with his legs pulled up to his chest.

“So am I.”

“Jung Hoseok.” There’s a touch of incredulity in Yoongi’s voice, hardening Hoseok’s resolve to not turn around and face him. “Did you faint because Jimin was too cute ?”

“No?” He hates how wobbly his answer comes out, hates it even more when he hears Yoongi snort, obviously laughing at his misery. “I just thought dokkaebi are supposed to look scary, and he is the exact opposite of that! Plus I’m afraid of ghosts!”

(Yoongi also filled him in on Jimin’s pronouns. Apparently he goes by he and him or they and them, and Taehyung used they and them primarily so the rest of them wouldn’t find out he was already well acquainted with the dokkaebi.)

According to Yoongi, he’s been out for maybe half an hour. The two youngest had fallen asleep next to him, and Yoongi, after helping out in the kitchen, had come back to check on them.

“Well, he’s not a ghost, so you don’t have to be afraid of him.” Yoongi sits by his bedside, his weight causing the bedding to tilt to one side. “If there’s anything you want to say, you can tell hyung anything.”

His tone is nonjudgmental. Yoongi has always felt steady to Hoseok. Steady in how he carries himself, in how he interacts with things and people around him; that was probably why earlier Hoseok had got such a shock when Yoongi had called him out.

“Hoseok-ah. Are you afraid of Jimin?”

“No.” Realising he’d answered way too quick, Hoseok tacks on: “Maybe at first? But it’s like all of you said, he’s never done anything to harm us.” And not to be shallow or anything, but it’s hard for Hoseok to imagine someone like Jimin being a malicious spirit.

He hears a low chuckle, and peeking reveals shaking shoulders from none other than Min Yoongi. The man in question, however, isn’t looking at him. Rather, his gaze lands in the general direction of the door, where Yoongi had said Jimin and Namjoon were sitting outside.

“It’s hard to be afraid of someone you know.” Yoongi murmurs. “Takes away the whole mystery and uncertainty.”

And that makes sense, Hoseok supposes. He knows there’s a saying that goes something like people fear the unknown more than anything else, but once that veil has been uncovered, suddenly things don’t seem that scary, and that seems to be the case here.

He sits up. looking over to Taehyung and Jeongguk, the former hugging onto the latter like a koala, four legs intertwined. Someone, presumably Yoongi, had thrown a blanket over their midriff, so at the very least they would be less likely to catch a cold. Despite the coldness eating at his gut, the sight brings a smile to Hoseok’s face, unable to resist tousling their hair. The urge to lean down and do something briefly flashes before his mind before he quickly tamps it down.

Yet just as quickly, another notion pops into his head, one regarding a certain supernatural being.

Without missing a beat, Yoongi speaks up: “would you like to talk to Jimin?”

Hoseok takes a moment to think about it before nodding, finding that yes, he actually does want to talk to Jimin.

It takes him another second, though, to realize that he has no idea what to say to him.

By that time Yoongi has already beckoned Jimin in, sliding the door shut behind him to give them some semblance of privacy.

Before Hoseok can even think of forming words, Jimin’s bowing to him, hanok and all making it seem that more formal than it probably is, and Hoseok hastens to bow back from the bed, careful not to disturb the two youngest.

“I’m sorry for causing you to faint.” Jimin says, regret evident in his tone. “I didn’t mean to scare any of you and it wasn’t my intention to cause so much distress.”

“No, no, I...” Hoseok falters, an apology on the tip of his tongue. But what does he apologize for?

Jimin shakes his head, seeming to know more than Hoseok understands himself. “You have no need to apologize, please don’t.” So Hoseok shuts his mouth, and takes the opportunity to really look at Jimin the dokkaebi.

In the few drawings he’s seen of dokkaebi, they always seemed so frightening and powerful, with horns and bulging eyes, claws and teeth that could very easily take someone’s eyes out. Yet Jimin, regardless of whether powerful or not, looks relatively harmless in his light blue hanbok and delicate facial features.

Maybe that’s why Hoseok blurts out: “are you a powerful dokkaebi?”

Thankfully, Jimin takes it in stride, barely batting an eyelash before replying: “it depends on your definition of powerful. I can do many things, but there are also limitations to what I can do.”

Hoseok takes a moment to digest that information.

“Aren’t dokkaebi supposed to be, like, very mischievous?”

Jimin blinks. Next thing Hoseok knows he’s on his back, lying flat against the bedding, Jimin hovering on top of him, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh wow.”

Oops. Did he say that out loud?

“I choose not to be too rough with most humans.” Jimin says in lieu of a real explanation, though Hoseok finds him thinking that he personally wouldn’t mind being manhandled－dokkaebi-handled?－too much.

Jimin's smile widens, a light blush dusting his soft cheeks, and oh, did Hoseok say that out loud? He did not mean to say that out loud.

But it blessed him with Jimin’s adorable smile, so Hoseok can’t truly say that he minds just this once.

Yoongi might not be the first one to notice something amiss with Jimin, but he is the first one to confront him about it.

“Yoongi hyung, I think something’s wrong with Jimin hyung.”

It starts out like this: Jeongguk seeking him out one thursday night, soft hoodie sleeves twisted in his hands as he frets, voice small and head low. His mannerisms and speech pattern immediately sets off alarm bells in Yoongi’s head, but he keeps his face neutral, swiveling his chair around to face their maknae, opening his arms as Jeongguk comes over to him.

He folds onto Yoongi’s frame snugly, like he belongs there. And maybe Yoongi is starting to believe it.

Since Jeongguk had initiated contact, Yoongi lets him take his time to find his words, understanding more than anyone how words can be hard to find.

Though when a sufficient amount of time has passed and no words have been formed, Yoongi forms a guess and decides to prompt the younger to answer.

“Have you been noticing anything off about him lately?”

“I don’t know if I’m overreacting.” Jeongguk lifts his head, round eyes pensive as he recalls whatever’s been eating away at him. “But he’s been spacing out more, and Taehyung hyung said sometimes he disappears in the middle of the night.”

Humming, Yoongi swishes the chair left and right in a soothing motion, casting his thoughts out to form an answer. He can’t say he hasn’t noticed the same; Jimin, while being a dokkaebi, doesn’t really use his powers all that much, sans fixing things for Namjoon or bodily throwing them around for fun. No going up in a poof of smoke or flying around the house.

(According to Jimin that’s not something every dokkaebi can do; he had demonstrated, once, that due to his ties to the hanok, anywhere within it was free range for him. Which had led to all of them being flown in the house. Despite what the others said, Yoongi did not enjoy it. He didn’t.)

Point being Jimin wasn’t one to frequently disappear on them, and the fact that more than one of them has noticed is definitely worth worrying about.

“I’ll talk to him about it. Maybe there’s something on his mind.” To Yoongi, that seems the most plausible answer, and it makes the most sense. “Maybe it’s a dokkaebi problem?”

“Maybe.” Jeongguk does not seem appeased. “But he could still talk to us about it.”

“He probably doesn’t want us to worry.” They’ve never properly talked about ages, but it’s obvious that Jimin has been tied to this hanok for several decades at least, which makes him the oldest among the seven. Jimin’s never enforced a strict age hierarchy, doesn’t really care if they address him formally, so most of them don’t. Most, excluding Jeongguk, though he does from time to time cheekily speak informally just to fluster him.

That doesn’t mean he won’t keep secrets from them if he deems it necessary. And it’s all too easy to fall into the “responsible eldest” mindset and let something fester.

Coming to a conclusion, Yoongi hums before saying: “I’ll talk to him about it.” And, without thinking, smooches the top of Jeongguk’s head.

They freeze, Yoongi suddenly hyper aware of where his limbs are touching, of how he’s physically encased in this warm sunshine of a boy-man named Jeon Jeongguk.

Yoongi’s not dense; he can see the way they’ve all been subtly flirting, how there’s this pull whenever two or more of them are close to each other. He’s well aware that how he cares about them isn’t how he normally cares for “just friends”, and Yoongi’s accepted it, after having a mini identity crisis, that maybe he loves a little differently.

That maybe he has more space in his heart than just for one.

Yet before he can backpedal or come up with a feasible excuse, Jeongguk has already come to his own conclusion, smushing his face into the juncture between Yoongi’s neck and collarbones, hugging Yoongi even tighter if possible.

“Hyung.” Jeongguk says, pillow-soft, warm breath caressing the side of Yoongi’s neck. “I like you.”

Yoongi tamps down the urge to move, to do anything that might throw this person who holds a piece of his heart off. He feels like dancing, or jumping up and down, or doing something rash like kissing this beautiful boy in his lap. As much as that last idea sounds incredibly attractive, there are other matters to address before they can even think of moving forward.

Min Yoongi is a lot of things, but he is not a heart-breaker.

“I like you, too, Guk-ah.” He feels rather than sees Jeongguk shiver, and silently files that away for a later date. “But, um, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Jeongguk tenses then relaxes, adjusting his body so his ear is pressed directly over Yoongi’s heart. “Is it about the other hyungs?”

Surprised would be an understatement of how Yoongi feels in the moment, especially when Jeongguk very casually says: “Jin hyung and Hoseok hyung have been eye-fucking for forever. And I think Tae hyung has been dropping hints that he wants to date both you and Namjoon hyung.”

Weirdly enough, that last part is what Yoongi’s brain latches on to.“Me?” He thinks back to his interactions with Taehyung. The boy’s always been pretty forward, never shy about showing his appreciation or affection for others, yet somehow Yoongi has failed to notice what Jeongguk has. He can tell that Taehyung is attracted to Namjoon; who wouldn’t be? An intellectual with a heart of gold, he truly is a gentle giant, never one to shy away from hard topics or seemingly random thoughts, always willing to lend an ear to those he cherishes.

“You’re a catch, hyung.” Jeongguk’s voice cuts through his inner turmoil, a grin gracing his lips at whatever dumb expression must be on Yoongi’s face. “Who wouldn’t want to date you?”

“Says you.” Is Yoongi’s immediate retort, and Jeongguk flushes, hiding his face with one hand. “Did your eomma ever tell you that you’re going to break a lot of hearts?”

“Stop.” Jeongguk whines. “Not the point, hyung.”

“Fine.” Yoongi calms his mind, tries to absorb all that he’s learned in the span of, say, thirty seconds. “So what you’re saying is, you and the rest of them would most likely be open to dating. Together.”

“I think so.” Jeongguk nods into Yoongi’s neck, before pausing, letting out a soft sigh. “I don’t know about Jimin hyung. He’s harder to read.”

An idea slowly starts to form in Yoongi’s head. “...Jeongguk, when you came over here, did you see Jimin anywhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

Hm. “I want to try something. Sit up for me.”

The biggest pout Yoongi has ever seen on Jeongguk’s face introduces itself when Jeongguk retracts himself from Yoongi’s side, making his reluctance to leave his spot crystal clear. Under other circumstances, Yoongi would love to kiss away that pout, but sadly there are more pressing matters to attend to (as preposterous as that sounds).

Casting his eyes to the ceiling, Yoongi decides to try his theory out; worst case scenario, he’ll make a fool out of himself in front of Jeongguk, and to be honest worst things could happen, so Yoongi’s not too worried.

“Jimin-ah.” Yoongi looks around, tries to see if there’s any disturbance in the air. “Jimin, are you there? If you can hear me, please talk to us.”

At first, Jeongguk looks confused. But Jeongguk being Jeongguk quickly catches on, joining in without preamble: “Jimin hyung, if you can hear us, please come out.”

It takes a moment, but one second there’s just him and Jeongguk, Yoongi blinks and Jimin is there, hanbok and all.

“You called for me?” Jimin is pointedly not looking at them, sight set politely somewhere to their left. Sharing a glance with Jeongguk, they get up from the chair, each taking one of Jimin’s hands.

“Let’s sit on the bed.” Yoongi suggests, pulling all three of them to the bed. Stunned, Jimin lets them move him, until he’s sandwiched between them, gaze landing on their held hands. Jimin’s hands are cool to the touch, not to the point of discomfort, but a stark contrast to the standard human temperature.

Not one to beat around the bush, Yoongi cuts straight to the point: “Jimin-ah, is there something troubling you?”

“If it’s a dokkaebi thing, even if we can’t help, we still want to provide moral support.” Jeongguk adds earnestly, now using both hands to engulf Jimin’s smaller one.

His mouth moves like words are fighting to come out, Jimin lowering his head, even as his hand squeezes theirs. Yoongi squeezes back, Jeongguk doing the same. It’s strange, if Yoongi thinks too much about it, how both of them are usually not that big on physical affection, yet it comes so naturally now, faced with Jimin, who so often craves that tactile contact.

“I just...” he shuts his eyes, breath coming out harshly. “I’m afraid.”

Yoongi and Jeongguk share another glance. “What are you afraid of?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin mumbles something that sounds like “a lot”, before taking a deep breath. “I’m afraid of being alone. You’re all living here because you study here, but when you all graduate you’re all going to leave. I’m afraid of overstepping boundaries. I’m afraid of feeling so much.” He’s still looking at their hands, and the implications couldn’t be clearer.

Despite that, Yoongi still feels the need to clarify. “Do you have feelings for us?”

Jimin nods, absolutely no hesitation. This time, Jeongguk doesn’t wait to look at Yoongi before confessing: “so do we, hyung.”

His head lifts so fast he nearly brains Jeongguk and Yoongi. “You do?” Jimin honest to god sounds shocked, as if the idea is impossible to comprehend to him.

And Jeongguk, in turn, looks appropriately offended, like not liking Jimin is incomprehensible to him. “Of course!”

“And we’re not leaving. Not any time soon.” Yoongi squeezes his hand. “We might have to travel around for work, and there’s our enlistment, but we’ve really fallen for this place.” Grinning at Jimin’s dumbfounded look, Yoongi pinches his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

He gives Jimin a brief respite to take it all in before gently nudging him: “is there anything else on your mind?”

Jimin looks at him. Really looks at him before asking: “can I hug you? Both of you.”

Yoongi’s suddenly engulfed by them both, Jeongguk hearing the word “hug” and immediately taking action, tackling them both with an “oof” from all parties. The bed shouldn’t fit three people, and Yoongi is barely broad enough to encircle both of them in his arms, but somehow they make it work.

They lie there for a minute or two, before Jeongguk speaks up: “we should probably tell the others.”

“Should I tell them?” Jimin says, Yoongi detecting a hint of mischievousness in his tone. “I could tell them now.”

“You can do that?” Jeongguk asks, intrigued, while Yoongi looks up, alarmed, because in their current position, with him at the bottom, that could only mean one thing.

“Wait－”

(Of course, they don’t wait. Once everyone had their facts straight, a celebratory puppy pile was in order, all of them piling onto Yoongi, all while he complains and moans about his poor bones.)

(And he doesn’t enjoy it.)

(Maybe he does. Just a little.)