Chapter Text
“Are you sure this is going to work?” the young man asked his older companion, both who were hidden in the outskirts of a forest watching the graveyard in front of them.
“It won’t if you keep asking me the same forsaken question every five minutes!” The other man hisses out. “You shouldn’t have come at all if all you were going to do was doubt our congregation’s methods and potentially give away our location with your insistent yapping.” He finishes his retort with a harsh slap on the young man’s head.
Softly whining in pain, the young man looks at his mentor with teary doe eyes and pouts at him dolefully, “I was just asking.”
“Well, ask less and look around more.”
Sensing the finality in the statement, the young man does that. However, it’s a difficult task to do so, seeing as darkness is prevalent at this hour, especially in areas such as the one they’re in. The young man was thankful for the clear starry skies with no clouds to block out the light they were receiving from the full moon. Its light is what helped him see the freshly dug grave a few meters away.
The body in the grave belonged to an older woman who passed away due to the illness running rampant in their humble little village. The young man blinks back tears thinking of the noona who always gave him small offerings of her well loved sweet bread every morning before he left to the temple. He murmurs a soft prayer for her once again, and an even softer apology for using her deceased body to bait their demonic grave robber.
His companion side-eyes him but doesn’t interrupt him, he too was close to the woman and also bares the guilt for the disgraceful way of their methods. He chastised his pupil earlier for his doubts but he knew the young man wasn’t wrong for his questions. Their temple used unorthodox methods in solving their problems and at times were near blasphemous. It was not something he wanted to expose his student to, in order to preserve his rare innocence, but he knew it was unavoidable.
When it came to vanquishing evils, even priests got their hands dirty. Of course it’s all for the sake of their people and their duties to god but even he himself, knew it was a foolish excuse. The road to hell was paved with good intentions after all.
A stain was a stain no matter whom the hands belonged to.
He dislikes the mere hypocrisy of preaching of good and condemning simple pleasures in sin whilst they themselves indulge in far worse actions. But no matter his personal feelings on the matter, he understood sometimes. Like now, for instance.
For a couple of months, their sacred land in which they laid their dead to rest has been disturbed in the most gruesome of ways. During the day they would bury and bless their dead with prayers, only for the night to come along and have a demon unearth the barely decomposed bodies and rip them apart for their dead hearts and livers, sometimes they chewed through the body to get to them.
It was disrespectful and upsetting at best and revolting and sacrilegious at worst. The families of the dead’s impure assault were always brought to their knees at the news. How could they not? Be it their son, daughter, wife, husband, mother or father—their loved ones who they were grieving for and were finally put to rest and at peace, had that peace taken away from them.
The heart wrenching realization that their loved ones were no longer at peace—broke them even further than their grief. Would the gods even welcome them with an impure and ravaged body? Did this violent act after death impact them at all? The doubts and sheer paranoia wouldn’t let hearts be at ease.
After the tenth body found uncovered and mutilated, the village leaders asked for a religious intervention from the temple’s priests. They had realized that their grief wouldn’t stop anytime soon with the illness killing most of their village and with more deaths came more bodies and more bodies meant more sacrilegious acts yet to occur.
After examining the bodies with a keen and calculated eye, the priests determined this the work of a Kumiho, a malignant fox who feasted on human flesh. They occasionally appeared in front of men in the form of a beautiful woman in order to seduce them and bring them forth into their dens, where there they would either kill their victims immediately to consume their hearts and livers, or would keep them trapped there and slowly suck out their life energy with deep seated kisses. These men, tended to be too weakened to fight back or even scream for help and spent their time watching their life being slowly eroded away.
There were discussions amongst the villagers about the validity of the priest’s presumption of the demon causing these crimes.
If it were to be a Kumiho, why were they grave robbing? Although relieved that their men haven’t been targeted alive, they still can’t help but wonder.
Another question that arose, was that the victims were of both sexes. Why would the Kumiho eat the deceased women’s hearts and livers when their usual targets were men only?
There were many a question but still they felt letting the priests handle the situation was the safest thing to do at the moment. So the villagers left to sleep another night and would pray that the next morning their loved ones would still be at peace.
Meanwhile, the priests were in a dilemma as to how to ‘dispatch’ the creature. Kumiho were immortal spirits that only became stronger after reaching their human form. Spiritual beings such as them couldn’t be killed by any man made weapon or attribution. Although they had many minor annoyances, it wasn’t what the priests were looking for.
Chasing them away with dogs would only push back the inevitable act of pettiness and hunger of those creatures. Immortal beings were patient after all, or else how could they live for so long and not fall under their own twisted madness? The fox would simply wait until they had their guard down, be it weeks, months or even years; the fox would wait—and when they saw their opportunity they would strike harshly and without mercy.
They were at in impasse of what to do when one of their younger members spoke of a well thought out hypothesis. He brought up the unmentioned fact that Kumiho were at their weakest in their journey of becoming human. Some Kumiho often tired of immortality or fell into a human and started the arduous process of becoming human themselves by denying their spiritual powers and their hunger for human flesh. It was told that if they went for a thousand days doing so, they would eventually gain humanity and lose spirituality.
Of course, there was another tale that spoke of their hunger as a means to also become human; that if they consumed enough human souls they would also gain humanity.
No one really knew which one was correct other than the foxes themselves.
The member brought up the fact that their particular Kumiho feasted on their dead rather than on their living. He theorized that feasting on the dead would give far rather different results than it would if it were feasting on the living—to summarize, it was weak.
The weaker it was, the more susceptible it was to the powers of righteousness and holy chants and curses.
Of course came the question, the most redundant one that was—why was it feasting on the dead?
The member had another theory as to why it did so. He theorized that the Kumiho probably attempted the arduous task to become human, whether it was for love or change, it attempted. The Kumiho either failed or gave up on its tasks and went back to consuming human flesh. However because of its time it went so long without using its powers, it became weakened perhaps to an unattractive degree. Without its looks, the Kumiho cannot seduce nor attract its prey alive. So for the time being, it fed on the dead and would continue to do so until it gained its strength back.
The rest of the congregation stood impressed at how their younger member answered their questions without hesitation and well thought out answers.
In the end, his proposition was this; if we can’t kill it, we can trap it.
And so began the rigorous and detailed makings of a lamp. This lamp was made from the wood from their sacred tree which was said to be infused with holiness more potent than holy water itself. Its glass was stained and infused with the tears and prayers of their High Priests and they carved markings that spoke of their gods and of their punishment, their curse, to the demented fox spirit.
In the end, the lamp was rectangular and stood about a forearm tall, its top part was crafted to look just like their temple’s tiled and curved rooftops. The glass was covered with pieces of paper with markings painted in their darkest ink. Its base was a little wider and broader than the lamp itself and stood on four small pegs. The finishing touch was a burgundy paint infused with the pure blood of every member of the temple.
The container was made and their trap was set. What came next was the bait.
Which is what led to this moment with the Younger Priest and his even younger pupil.
In the younger’s hand was the aforementioned object itself. The priest’s eyes follows the singular droplet of sweat running along his pupil’s temple and all the way down to his sharp jawline. He eyed how the stray sweat drop hanged precariously over the lamp. Without delay, he wipes it away, the entirety of his hand nearly caressing the younger man’s jawline and said man flinches exaggeratedly at the touch.
Upon seeing the wide eyes on him once more, he explains, “You need to calm yourself,” he lifts his hand to show the wetness there, “or else the lamp will be filled with your fluids rather than the fox it’s meant to contain.”
The younger man’s face is then dusted with light pink and with one arm hurriedly raises his robe’s sleeve to dab away the rest of his sweat.
The priest watches on, unimpressed and slightly irked by the mistreatment of the robes gifted to the man by the temple. He figured, he shouldn’t get too worked up by it seeing as soon they’ll be facing a demonic being and who knew if the situation would get out of hand very quickly.
They’ve been here since the sun has set and the nocturnals awakening, the Kumiho being one.
It was sheer discipline and their training as priests that kept their bodies from going stiff and asleep. Their muscles were poised and clenched, awaiting for the opportunity and the moment they came here for. They needed to be swift and quick, there was no room for error. Should they fail, the Kumiho would be aware of their plans and would either attack accordingly or flee to another village—and that simply would not do.
“Jinguk is expecting.” Comes the sudden remark.
The priest looks at his student once more. “Oh?”
“Hyung always wanted a family. He’s beyond excited. Of course, he’s nearly going bald with worry as well, seeing how weak Yoona is already and the illness going around doesn’t help matters either.”
The priest watches carefully, at the tight smile on his pupil’s face and the near casual tone he spoke in. He, however, noticed the small inklings of gloom and heaviness in his tone as well.
“What about you?” He asks.
“What about me?”
“Why do you look so troubled with what is supposed to be good news? Are you not excited to be an uncle, Yongguk-ssi?”
The offended face he receives in turn nearly makes him chuckle.
“Of course I am!” He hisses softly. “You know how much I adore children and seeing as I won’t have my own, having a nephew is a blessing in itself!”
“So what then?”
Yongguk looks forward, avoiding his teacher’s eyes. He stays silent for a mere moment before he speaks in a voice the older has never heard from him. “No matter how carefree or childish I may seem, it doesn’t stop me from being realistic. The villagers may view it as pessimistic and the priests at the temple may see it as an insult to our faith but it’s who I am.” He smiles softly. “I know you protect me.”
The priest breathing stutters momentarily.
“I know you wish to lead me away from the cold hard truths of the temple—that you wish to protect my purity. But, if I am to become like you and eventually a higher priest, I cannot let myself be blinded by your sweet half lies and vague truths. Not that I’ll be able to do anything about it now. In knowing more, I also will be faced with dangers more often, more—”
He waves his free arm around, creating an arc towards the graveyard. “—uncertainties and unpredictability.”
“What are you implying?” The priest speaks up again, his voice soft yet hard. “What are you readying yourself for, you fool.”
Yongguk stays quiet, then proceeds to slowly place the lamp on the forest floor. Before the priest can chastise him for the action, he watches as the young man pulls out something small from the recesses of his robe.
Then, faster than the priest is able to blink, Yongguk shoves something under his nose—forcing him to breathe in whatever he held there. By the time, the priest is able to label the mixture of herbs; his body is overcome with sluggishness. With a slightly blurry gaze, the priest eyes the small pouch in his pupil’s hand with horror and a dreadful realization. “No…no.”
His heart grows heavy at the tears lining his beloved Yongguk’s wide and expressive eyes. Eyes that he did his best to cater to, so that they never lost its brightness. Right now, those eyes showed only sorrow, determination and resignation. “What..” the priest wheezes softly and with a numbed tongue and glazed over eyes he asks, “…what are they..making you..do?”
A single tear fall from both of their faces.
“The last step of the ritual.” Yongguk answers.
“No..”
“To control a life, to bind it and to trap it requires the purity and the life of another.” He leans over to the priest and carefully sets his numb body comfortably against a tree. “I am the sacrifice and…I am sorry.”
By now, the priest has lost his ability to speak, what he couldn’t say out loud could only be screamed in his head.
“They chose me because I am the purest. They also knew you wouldn’t allow it. So it was asked of me to throw off any suspicions and incapacitate you here.” Yongguk gives his teacher a small smile. “Don’t worry. I made this choice on my own. No one forced me to do this.”
‘They gave you no choice!’ The priest yells in his mind.
“It’s an honor really. With my death will come the safety of all the others. My sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain and I will have the reassurance that my nephew will grow in a place where demons don’t roam free.”
Yongguk slowly moves from the priest and then proceeds to give him a full bow—on his knees and head to the ground. “Thank you so much for everything, Master. Without you, my brother and I would still be living in the streets and I would have never found faith.” Eyesight almost gone and eyelids threatening to shut doesn’t stop the priest from knowing that his student is shaking and his voice heavy with tears. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…”
The last thing the priest sees before he is lost to sleep, is Yongguk walking away, tears streaming down his face and a lamp in hand.
He watches that night, how his precious student walks to his death.
Later on, only the forest is witness to the two loud cries that echoes through the mountaintops—one a dying breath of victory and the other an angry shriek full of vengeance and promises.
~Hundreds of years later~
Yoongi had missed this. He missed the fresh air, smog and pollution nonexistent, the large open fields and all the animals running free. He feels as if a part of himself has come back to him, finally at ease at being whole again.
Living in the city had been an amazing experience but it also sucked the life away from him. A boy barely out of his teens and full of color had been reduced to the monochromatic adult he was today. He thought it would’ve been different, he was hopeful and naïve and almost disgustingly optimistic, but the city beat into him the reality that was the cruel adult world.
There was no such thing as luck and chances, only money and blackmailed opportunities. It was devastating for Yoongi and sent him into a year long depression.
In the end, it was his friend Namjoon who sat down with him and asked him a question that made Yoongi rethink his life.
‘Hyung, is this really your only chance of happiness or are you hoping happiness comes from this chance?’
He thought of all the moments in his life that shone the most to him. Getting his first piano as a gift from his grandparents, getting accepted to the college of his choice, befriending Namjoon, making music….
If simply living in the city drained him so much, would working in the music industry be any better? And who’s to say he wouldn’t get screwed over and over again and he would have to keep his mouth shut due to a contract he shouldn't have signed in the first place.
Was becoming a producer his dream or simply an acceptable dream?
As he sat in his small and leaky apartment, strumming the cords of his guitar, he had never felt more at peace than being in the embrace of his own music. Here no one would judge him nor steal his passion away from him.
It was just him and his melody.
Not having a dream is okay, right? He didn’t need to make millions a year and have his name plastered everywhere to achieve happiness, right?
Happiness could come from small moments like these. Moments like walking through the park during twilight, eating that cupcake he was craving all week, finally petting that grumpy cat, managing to make eye contact with a cute boy. Moments like these were his happiness. Why must he sell part of his soul for a ‘dream’ that promised happiness but only gave him a destitute inside him?
He wasn’t obligated to do anything really. He didn’t have to have a dream. He didn’t have to deal with power hungry sharks and barbed jealous coworkers. He didn’t have to live in a large house, marry a woman, have children and live a ‘successful’ life. He didn’t have to.
And to him, this realization lifted the entirety of the weight on his chest that was slowly suffocating him.
A successful life is not equivalent to wealth and baring heirs. No, a successful life was one where he felt at peace and happy. And if that happiness came from small inconsequential things, then what does it matter?
So with a light chest and shiny eyes, he gave Namjoon his heartfelt farewells and promises to stay in contact and traveled back home to his small town near the mountains and the forest.
It was both bittersweet and nostalgic coming face to face with his childhood home. His home.
His grandparents had both passed whilst he was in the city trying to survive and if there was something he regretted the most in his life was not being here for their burial, simply because he was meeting a man who would then try to con him out of his music.
It always brought tears to his eyes when he thought of his grandmother’s last words to him.
‘My sweet boy, my own little bundle of happiness. I’m so proud of you.’
His heart thudded painfully knowing his grandparents had lived a successful life and it was all because of him. He was their happiness and their pride and joy. Yoongi knew his grandparents would’ve welcomed him home with open arms and would’ve never judged him for his decision to come back home.
He hated how he took them for granted and in turn derived himself of the happiness they also brought to him.
All he could do now to honor their spirits was to find his own happiness and never let go, no matter how small or big.
After crying for a whole day in the recesses of his dusty home, he finally felt lighter and got up to clean up himself and his home. It was hard cleaning his grandparent’s room and changing the sheets in exchange for cleaner ones. Their combined scents of cedar wood and lilies still lingered and he took a moment to breathe it in and let it embrace him just as his grandparents would have.
After that, he placed a vase of fresh flowers in their room, opened the windows and left to clean the rest of the house.
It took him a better part of two days, to get everything back into tiptop shape. He was saddened to see that the majority of the garden that his grandmother maintained at the back of their home, had perished. His grandfather’s little patch of fruits and vegetables had also gone bad, the overwhelming amount of weeds and the animal tracks clued him in onto what happened to it.
Wanting a piece of his grandparents back, Yoongi set his back into working on the garden and vegetable patch for the rest of his week. It was hard work and left him on the harsh sun for periods of time but it was cathartic to him. He felt as he had finally properly mourned and moved on at once.
So here he stood, sitting in the middle of an empty field filled with flowers looking at the sun going into rest.
Compared to the city it was quiet but it wasn’t silent either. His ears was never deprived of any sound at any moment. To him, the rustling of leaves, the calls of the animals, the chirping of critters and his own relaxed breathing was better than any song he ever composed.
Nature and the wilderness itself was both the composer and the orchestra. So many different sounds came together, small pieces of a whole to create a symphony that no human could ever hope to recreate with sincerity. Nature was its own thing, and no matter how much land humans stole from it, it could never steal performances such as these.
Yoongi wondered how a song so intangible could have given him one of the best comforts possible. He never believed in the impossible without proof but Yoongi liked to think that the forest surrounding him and the nature around was magic. He was allowed to steep himself in childish fantasies, right? Right.
His small home was located the furthest away from the town, past the outskirts of the forest but not buried in it either. He had no neighbors but Yoongi does have a friend in town. He was a childhood friend who went by the name of Taehyung.
The younger visited at least once a week ever since he found out Yoongi was back in town. The boy was beyond ecstatic and bombarded him with hugs and sloppy kisses to his cheeks which Yoongi tried his best to get out of. He pouted when he realized that Taehyung outgrew him in every aspect physically. He grew like a tree and made sure to remind Taehyung of this fact.
‘You big fucking tree! Let go of me!’
‘Not my fault hyung grew like a turnip!’
‘You have three seconds to run…’
‘Eek!’
He had Taehyung to thank though. Without his help and advice, his gardens would’ve never gotten back into shape, in fact he probably would’ve finished killing it.
Taehyung was also his only company by the quiet wilderness. Although, he didn’t want to admit it, Yoongi was in fact very lonely. With Namjoon still in the city and Taehyung’s weekly visits, he spent the majority of his time alone.
He remembers his grandmother always telling him that humans weren’t meant to be alone for extended amounts of time. She made sure to remind him of this every time he told her that ‘no I haven’t met anyone’ and ‘yes I’m still single’.
It wasn’t that Yoongi didn’t want to date, he just never had time nor interest in it. For the past few years, he focused all of his effort into his ‘dream’. He prioritized his work first and everything else just fell back. Of course, he regrets that now, sudden epiphanies and loss forced him to actually stop and think.
With how little he visited his grandparents and how little he left his studio, it was no wonder he remained single and a virgin at the age of 24.
He never felt bad about his lack of experience nor would he let anyone make him ashamed of the fact. So what if he didn’t lose his virginity at the young age of 15 like most of his peers? If he remembered correctly, he’s a bit puzzled as to how such unhygienic and immature brats managed to actually go through the act of sex. It makes him crinkle his nose the more he thought about it—gross.
Plus call him immature but he also knows for a fact that he’s not the only virgin in town and so he’s a bit reassured. He has a comrade.
Taehyung’s loud complaints about the lack of gay men in town and his own high libido had led to his friend telling him about every single dirty detail that roamed in his head.
Yoongi knows too much. Way too much.
The both of them didn’t entertain the thought of hooking up, Yoongi simply didn’t see Taehyung that way and he simply wasn’t Taehyung’s type.
‘You have a type?’
‘Duh! Who doesn’t?’
‘I don’t...’
‘You don’t count. Plus we’re both bottoms so you do the math.’
‘How do you—?’
‘Hyung please.’
‘…fair enough.’
Despite the fact that he had a bunch of free time and the opportunity to start dating, he was now in the same boat as Taehyung. He lived in a small town filled mostly of elder people or married couples with families. It’s not as if him and Taehyung couldn’t travel to meet people but Taehyung had a farm to run and Yoongi thought it to be too much time and energy consuming for that something wouldn't pan out in a day or so.
Taehyung the forever optimist, said that they should wait for destiny and fate to take its course.
‘I think you’re having trouble separating fantasy and reality together. No matter how much you wish, you won’t wake up with a hot guy knocking on your door.’
‘Let me live hyung!’
So yes he was lonely but he was also lazy. Oh well. Do your best destiny.
Today he woke up to the sky overcast, the smell of ozone and petrichor telling him that a storm was on its way. Seeing as today was Friday, he wondered if Taehyung was still going to come over or would stay behind on his farm to avoid the storm.
Worrying for his garden, Yoongi set to tidying the best he could and getting tarps to protect his babies. It took him the better part of his morning to do so and by then the clouds had darken in color. The storm was due any minute now.
He went to his porch to look into the distance to see if Taehyung was anywhere near and he did just in time because there was the boy in question. He was running like a manic with two duffel bags over his shoulders and a wide grin—he was excited.
Even as Yoongi went down his steps and walked the forest to meet him, Taehyung didn’t slow his gait, in fact he ran faster. Yoongi’s eyes widened in alarm in knowing what this meant. Quickly he turns back and tries to save himself but it was too late. He heard a loud yell and then felt a heavy impact that sent him flying to the forest floor.
They both land in a tangle of limbs, Taehyung’s knees digging into his back and his elbow prodding the younger’s rib.
“Yah! Get off of me!” Yoongi groans out, unhappy at the mouthful of dirt he got in his mouth.
Taehyung just whines. “This is why we won’t work hyung. If you were a strong and muscular man, you would’ve caught me and swooped me off my feet.” Taehyung sighs at the thought, forgetting that the smaller was still cushioning him, and droops his body dramatically. “One day, Taehyung, one day.”
“One day I’ll kick your ass or that day could be today if you don’t get your fat ass off of me.” Yoongi squirms trying to push the larger off but to no avail.
At the threat, Taehyung squeals and pushes himself off the elder, his knee nearly breaking his back, and ignores the strangled yowl in favor of running up to Yoongi’s house.
Yoongi gives himself a moment to stretch his limbs, on the ground, further dirtying his limbs before getting up. He grumbles under his breath, planning out methods to enact his revenge on his hyper childhood friend. By the time he’s inside, Taehyung has already made himself at home on his ratty old couch. His duffle bags seemed to have been full of clothes and blankets needed for a sleepover. Yoongi didn’t know how in the span of five minutes. Taehyung already had his sleepwear on and snacks ready to go but he’s learned not to question the boy anymore.
He wouldn’t admit it but he was glad he’ll be in the younger’s company for more than a day, depending how long the storm would take.
“I wasn’t sure if you would come. Will your crops be fine?” Yoongi goes to sit next to the younger.
Taehyung hugs him tightly, eyes apologetic, probably from the mess he just noticed he caused upon Yoongi. “I fixed up everything before I came. I’m not a fan of storms and even less of being alone throughout them. Anyway today’s usually our day and I thought who knews when the storm would let up and the thought of possibly not seeing you until next week sent me into tears.” The boy ends his statement dramatically, eyes feigning tears and a large pout in place.
“There there. Hyung is here.” Yoongi monotones while patting the younger’s back.
Taehyung giggles at him. “So I thought a sleepover would be the best thing to do! Not to mention, fun! Plus I think you and I are severally deprived of quality bonding time.” He nods his head at Yoongi, a faux seriousness on his face, trying to convey how important he thought this was.
“Okay, that doesn’t sound bad. Did you have any plans? Cause my place is boring as shit with its really faulty internet service.” Yoongi knew living in the wilderness would have its cons and the biggest one was the horrible, if not lack, of WiFi which really isn’t all that surprising considering the dense trees surrounding him.
Yoongi had somewhat prepared to this predicament. Before moving back, he thought back to his childhood and remembered the distinctive lack of technology. So he bought himself old fashion products, ones that didn’t depend too much on the technological advances from today’s society, not counting the few small solar panels he got. He used those mostly to charge his phone and laptop, it’s how he stayed in contact with Namjoon and if he was lucky enough, he could watch a movie with minimal interruptions.
Considering the darkened skies and the storm that was sure to mess with whatever service he had, he wasn’t overly optimistic about their odds with the laptop.
Taehyung stood up quickly, hands on his waist, a triumphant and smug look on his face. “Why hyung! You should know me better by now! Tete always has a plan!”
Yoongi watches as he goes to fetch another duffle bag, one that Yoongi didn’t spot before, and pulls out a bulky rectangular device, similar looking that of a laptop. Sitting back down with the device in hand, Taehyung opens it showing not a keyboard but a CD tray. Ah it was a DVD player, a very old one by the looks of it.
“I got this at the flea market, they’re having in the next town over, for a really cheap price of a crate of veggies and 17,000 won!” Taehyung rants excitedly, his eyes shining and his smile wide and boxy. Yoongi, having lived in the city for years, is obviously not impressed by the device but seeing Taehyung so happy at the seemingly outdated device, makes him smile fondly at his friend. “And the nice lady gave me a bunch of DVD’s for free! Can you believe that? At first, I didn’t want to take them cause it felt like I was swindling her but she insisted! Said it was because I was a sweet boy and very handsome.”
Taehyung leans over to whisper conspiringly, despite them being the only ones for miles, “Between you and me, hyung, I think she probably did that to win my favor over to possibly date her granddaughter. Pfft!” Taehyung laughs loudly at the thought. “I feel so bad but I can’t help that I enjoy the thought of a big muscly man bending me over my kitchen table and having their way with me.”
Yoongi groans. “Oh god Tae. I really don’t want to know that. Plus that’s disgusting. Use the bed like any other normal person.”
“But hyung! Where’s the fun in that?” The boy whines back at him. “Where’s the flavor?! The spiciness!”
“In the food where it belongs, not up your asshole.”
Taehyung snorts. “You say that now but one day you’ll find your beau and he’s gonna eat your ass at the dinner table like it’s his last meal and I know for a fact you won’t complain then!”
Yoongi can’t help the laugh that brings out of him, “Yeah, well until that happens I’m gonna stick to grumbling about it like an old man.”
Taehyung gasps dramatically. “Hyung you’re self aware!”! I never thought!”
“Shut up. What movies have you got?”
“Hmmm according to the lady these movies belonged to her daughter and she was a big fan of horror and the occasional comedy..”
“Tae.” Yoongi deadpans. “You know both of us can’t deal with horror.”
“I know!” The younger winces. “But what’s a sleepover without some horror movies, right?”
Yoongi sighs. “This is going to come bite us in the ass later, y’know?”
“Mmm bite on the ass..” Taehyung daydreamed dreamily.
Yoongi slaps his head. “Are you not ever horny?”
Rubbing his head with a pout, Taehyung responds with a whine, “No. I’m twenty and frustrated.”
“Boohoo.”
“Maybe you’re always so grumpy because you’ve gone even longer than I have without having sex. Do you think if someone removed the stick up your ass and replaced it with their cock, you would be more lovely?” Taehyung teases.
Another smack. “Choose a damn movie!”
“Okay! Okay! Ouch geez!”
They were more than halfway through their second movie, and most of their snack eaten in a scared frenzy, when a loud bang sounded.
Taehyung let out a noise Yoongi didn’t think was possible with a voice as deep as his. He wouldn’t admit it but the same noise also left his own. They were both clutching at each other under various blankets, movie having been paused.
“What was that?” Taehyung whimpers.
“I don’t know.” Yoongi whispers back. “Should we go check?”
Taehyung just held on tighter to him in response. “Are you insane?! Have these movies taught you nothing?! Investigating spooky noises is a sure way to get killed by demons!” Yoongi didn’t think it was possible to get screamed at in whispers but here he was getting proved wrong once more.
Before he could retort, another bang sounds out. Taehyung shrieks. “Oh my god hyung! We’re gonna die virgins!”
Ignoring the jab at themselves, Yoongi from where he sat tried to look out at the living room window. The storm was in full sway and the heavy downpour gave the illusion of dense fog by how much it was raining and how fast. He couldn’t see anything at all. It certainly didn’t help that nightfall was just an hour or so away.
“Shut up and listen!” Yoongi urges Taehyung.
Although his pout trembling and his frame shaking, the younger keeps quiet and listens.
“Did you hear that? Sounds like the wind is messing up the trees. We probably heard some branches breaking and hitting alongside the house.” And Yoongi’s theory was proven true when they see small twigs and acorns hit the windows in soft taps and scratches.
“So we’re not dying virgins..?”
A sigh. “No.”
“I still think we shouldn’t leave each other’s sides.”
“I gotta pee.”
“Well, will you look at that, so do I. Let’s go.”
“Taehyung I am not whipping my dick out alongside yours.”
“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked.”
“Yeah! Back when we were children!”
“Are you afraid of showing me your dick, Hyung? Are you a chili pepper? It’s okay if you are I won’t—”
“No! I—“ before Yoongi could finish his retort, a rock breaks through his window, scaring both boys and sending them into a screaming frenzy. What made the ordeal more terrifying, was that the rock impacted harshly against the oil lamp lighting up the living room and breaking even more glass and sending the room into darkness. Before either of them could worry about a possible fire breaking out due to the spilled contents of the lamp, a huge gust of wind along with tons of rainwater came breezing through the now open window and overpowered the small flame in the making.
“Taehyung put your slippers on and go get the broom and clean up, while I try to fix the window!” Yoongi yells as he gets up and runs to get the extra plastic tarp he had lying around from earlier, and tape to cover up the hole now decorating his window. Taehyung, although still frighten, does what he's told and quickly started to clean the lamp remains and properly wipe off the oil. He also lights up a couple of candles, bringing light back into the room.
Meanwhile, Yoongi was struggling to put the tarp in place but the wind coming through was making it difficult. Every time he thought he had one side down, the wind pushed along the other side and each time it hit Yoongi in the face, blinding him from what he was doing. It was during a moment of carelessness and the slide of the water against the window, that his hand slipped and was sliced open by one of the broken edges of the window. “Shit!”
Letting go of one side of the tarp, Yoongi brings his hand back and panics a little at the sight of his hand bleeding profusely, the cut edging along his entire palm—the blood already dripping onto the floor.
“Hyung!” Quickly, Taehyung left his clean up to assist the older, paling at the sight of his hand. “Oh my god! Hyung we need to clean that up now! Where’s your first aid? How deep is it? Do you need stitches? Do you feel dizzy? Hyungie do not go into the light!” Apparently Taehyung didn’t do well at the sight of blood, good to know.
“Taehyung! Focus! Help me with this first and then you can go fetch the kit, which is under the kitchen sink by the way.” Yoongi hisses through his teeth, trying his best to ignore the burning pain on his hand. He wanted to cover up the window either way, there was enough of a mess already to let the window go undone and possibly invite in more rocks.
“But hyung! Your hand!” Taehyung apparently disagrees, his priority being Yoongi’s safety, which he appreciated but he was stubborn.
He gave Taehyung a hard look, conveying his resolve. “The faster you help me cover up the window, the faster we can treat my hand. So, just help me.”
Taehyung pursed his lips for half a second before like a mad man on crack started to help Yoongi cover up the window in a speed the latter has never seen from the former. Although a farmer, Taehyung usually acted like a hyperactive puppy or a sleep deprived baby bear the majority of the time. In no time, they taped up the tarp, covering each side of the window, stopping Mother Nature from further eroding his humble abode.
Then without wasting time, Taehyung pulled Yoongi to the kitchen and sat him down on one of the stools there. Getting the first aid kit from under the sink, Taehyung got all the necessary tools ready and got to work.
“Hyung this is going to hurt but we need to disinfect the wound first. So clench your cute little kitten teeth and buckle up!” Without further warning, Taehyung poured water over his hand, cleaning the blood and whatever dirt lingered behind.
Yoongi bit harshly down his lips, doing his best to hold down screams and looks away from what Taehyung was doing. His arm was shaking horribly and he could already feel his face heaten in exertion. Luckily, Taehyung was quick and before he knew it, his hand was washed, disinfected, applied ointment and wrapped firmly but softly with gauze. Taehyung tended to be clumsy at times, so he has plenty of experience patching up wounds when his own constitution has gotten the best of him.
Yoongi could feel tears escaping his eyes in stress and hurt. Taehyung, seeing the sight, coos softly at him and brought his hands forward to wipe away the tears before going to fetch a cup of water and some medication to help with the pain. “Drink up, hyungie. You’re okay. The cut was shallow enough and won’t need stitches, luckily.” He goes to hug him from behind, comforting him. “You sure are a bleeder! Maybe you should snatch yourself a vamp, get yourself one of those benefits relationships.” Taehyung jokes.
Yoongi snorts despite his best efforts, “Do you mean friends with benefits?” He chokes out.
“Yeah those! He gets the sucky sucky, pun intended by the way, and you get yourself your very own Twilight movie! Hopefully with less brooding.”
Yoongi lets out a wet giggle, the medicine starting to kick in. He knew what Taehyung was doing and he was thankful that it was working. He’ll never take his friend for granted. “I don’t know Tae, the wolves are just as broody as the vamps. Maybe it’s a Supernatural thing—to be broody and mysterious.”
“Hyung is there something you’re not telling me? Cause you brood a lot y’know.” Taehyung asks the elder with squinted eyes and a suspicious look on his face.
“Nope. I’m one hundred percent human and I do not brood! I’m just very passive and a—what do you call it—uh oh! A tsundere!” Yoongi giggles out, his eyes hazy and a relaxed smile on his face. He looked like a cat on catnip.
Taehyung then smirks, an evil thought forming. Whenever Yoongi was under the influence, he tended to be painfully honest and acted very adorably. Taehyung wasn’t above playing a little dirty, especially when it came to his tight lipped hyung. “Oh? So you like playing hard to get? Like someone having to chase you?” He asks the elder, as he maneuvers him to his feet and starts to lead him into his bedroom.
Yoongi nods, or at least tries to, it looked like his head was too heavy for his neck and he kept flopping about. “There’s just something nice about someone devoting themselves to getting you into bed.” He slurs. “Like it’s basically implying you’re hot enough to get chased and worth the effort. Men these days don't even fucking try y’know?”
“Yeahh I get what you mean.” Taehyung didn’t, he hasn’t been out of his town to know what it felt like to be hit on. Sad.
“Like you tell them no and then they just give up! Just like that! Weak willed bastards.” Yoongi spits out. “And that’s not to say it’s always a bad thing! Especially when there’s losers who can’t take a hint and potentially turn a situation into a bad thing. But if there’s a clear attraction between the both of us and you pussy out on the first try then what the fuck? You don’t want to get your dick sucked by my pretty doll lips, you conceited good for nothing son of a bitch? Is that what you’re saying? Am I not good enough to keep trying? Like fuck you, your ween was probably small and an odd color. I rather deep throat a zucchini over your small baby carrot anyways!”
Taehyung was in hysterics. Oh my god, his hyung was fucking hilarious and the constant pout on his face just added to the hilarity. He just said ween. The utter outrage and offense was enough to make Taehyung think that Yoongi was retelling a memory rather than outlining a problem. He sympathizes with his hyung, he could see what he talked about and Taehyung liked the appeal of someone chasing after you, and only you, with wholeheartedly and romantic intentions. But Taehyung was an easy person to please, he doesn’t think he could last as Yoongi would. Call him a cute nickname and compliment his ugly T-shirts and he’s sold.
After a few more grumbles of his distaste for baby carrots and weak willed men, Yoongi finally gets settled down on his bed, Taehyung tucking him in gently. Almost immediately, the elder falls asleep.
With one last kiss on his forehead, Taehyung leaves to finish cleaning up, after that he’ll come and cuddle his hyung.
No way was he sleeping alone. This is why horror movies sucked.
The storm lasted the whole weekend as did their sleepover. Yoongi was thankful to Taehyung for helping him clean up that night, not to mention help patching him up. The next day they stayed away from the horror and simply either played around with their cooking or played games. Taehyung also never let Yoongi go with telling him his newest fantasies which the other had no choice but to listen and even comment on. It only took Taehyung saying the words ‘baby carrot’ to get him very compliant into listening.
Dammit, now the younger had new blackmail material. Yoongi couldn’t even blackmail him back because Taehyung was shameless and Yoongi envied the younger’s inability to get embarrassed.
Taehyung, one. Yoongi, zero.
The younger also helped in cleaning and fixing up his wound. He was right in telling him that it looked worse than it was, seeing as there were important nerve endings along the hand, it bled a lot more then he would’ve expected. By the end of the weekend, it was already scabbing and only flared up in pain when Yoongi would accidentally flex his fingers a little too far.
Come Monday morning, the sky was back to its usual blues and the sun was beating heavily back down at them again. With kisses on cheeks that Yoongi pretended he hated, Taehyung said his goodbyes and ran off looking ridiculous with the bulk of his duffle bags.
He spent the rest of the day, inspecting the damage done by the storm, which was mostly a mess of fallen branches and the scatter of dirt and rocks. He was relieved to see that his gardens were mostly unscathed with only a bunch of twigs making through the tarps.
By the time, he finished clearing up the outskirts of his house and putting everything back in place, the sun was on its way to sleep.
He had been surprised when he entered his home to find it in near darkness, it was then that he remembered that his only working lamp was destroyed in the chaos that was Friday night.
Yoongi groans to himself, he would have to go into town to get a new one. He sets himself to the painstakingly long task of lighting up various candles and making sure they were monitored carefully. He then makes himself a small meal, reads one of his books he brought from the city and goes to sleep at the early time of eight o’clock.
There was no such thing as sleeping too much, something Yoongi liked to do. Sure, it served to give Taehyung more fuel in his comparison of him to that of an elderly man but Yoongi didn’t care, he liked sleeping. It was something he never had the luxury of doing in the city. He always had deadlines or work piled up and he had to sacrifice his looks and his precious sleep to get all of it done in time. He only recently started losing the deep eye-bags that had made itself at home on his face.
Taehyung was always complimenting him, always reminding him how lifeless he looked when he came back. He fondly tells him, how his cheeks had filled out nicely and how his skin had cleared out of all blemishes.
Fresh air will do that to you.
The younger loved pulling at his cheeks and squeezing at his face, Yoongi merely lets him. He was always too soft on the younger and Taehyung himself knows it, the cheeky little bastard.
The next morning, Yoongi had set out into town when he ran into Taehyung.
“Hyung! You’re heading to town as well?” Taehyung quickly plasters himself next the older and gives him a warm hug in greeting.
Yoongi pats back at him, “Yeah. Need a new lamp. Remember how the old one broke on Friday?” Taehyung scrunches his nose in remembrance. Yoongi sees how the younger’s eyesight goes towards his healing hand. He holds it up for him to look at properly, Taehyung prods at it gently before humming to himself in satisfaction. “What about you? Why aren’t you at the farm?”
“I also need to buy something. Some of my farming tools, along with a fence or two got busted up in the storm. I need to get new materials to fix it up.” The boy then pauses, his face thoughtful.
“What is it?” He asks curiously. Taehyung, then comes to grab his uninjured hand and starts leading them onto a different path. “What—? Taehyung where are we going?”
The boy merely smiles happily at him. “Remember how I told you how I got my DVD player? It was at the flea market in the next town over. I just remembered seeing a bunch of stuff and I have no doubt we can get our things there at a better price than here in our town.”
“Isn’t it far though?” Yoongi asks worryingly. He’s really not in the mood to be trekking for the majority of the day.
“No, the towns around here aren’t but a couple of trots away from each other. We can get there in an hour!” Taehyung turns to give him bright wide eyes. “Come on hyung! It’ll be great! You’ll get your lamp and they’re selling homemade sweets too! I know you can’t resist the thought of it.”
“Fine.” Yoongi relents, because yeah he can’t resist. When was the last time he had something with actual sugar in it? Plus, an hour wasn’t that much to his relief. He’ll get to explore the scenery more and he’ll get sweets. A win in his books. “Lead the way.”
“Yay!”
True to Taehyung’s word, they make it into the town within the hour.
Yoongi didn’t know what he expected when he heard flea market, but he knew it exceeded his expectations. It was big, to begin with—stretched at least a mile in length. The path it was on was bustling with a hefty amount of people, perhaps other people like them was also visiting and excited at the prospect of cheap purchases.
Yoongi made sure to have his grip tight on Taehyung’s hand, not wanting to get swept away along the crowd. The boy just went onto showing him the different types of stalls, all selling and trading different things. This town’s villagers were sure to make a nice amount of profit even with the low prices.
Despite the hustle and bustle, reminiscent to his days in the city, Yoongi was enjoying himself and was impressed with everything that was on display.
(Especially with the candied fruits and delicious pies on sell.)
They were sitting on a bench to the side of the market, their hands sticky and faces stuffed full of the sweets they bought. Taehyung, already having finished, was washing his hands with the bottle of water he purchased earlier. “Hyung, I see the stall that has the tools I need. Do you want to come or are you going to go look for your lamp now?”
Yoongi, brings his hands out, and Taehyung wets his hands as well. “Yeah, I’m going to go look now. Let’s meet up here?”
Taehyung nods. “Alright I’ll see you in a bit then!” Then he runs off to the stall he saw earlier, he thinks he sees another man trying to get the same tools he was eyeing. Not on his watch. Those tools were his.
Yoongi chuckles at the determined look on his friend’s face before he sets to walk along the rest of the market. He finds a couple of stalls selling lamps but for some reason Yoongi wasn’t satisfied with any of them. Maybe he was just a sucker for good lighting and none of these seemed strong enough for his living room.
He was walking past a seemingly empty stall when he hears a voice call out to him. Yoongi is surprised to see an elderly man where there was no one there moments before. He’s even more surprised to see a table full of things, that he also was sure wasn’t there before.
“Boy, you looka like ya seeking ‘omething out. Won’t cha take a look here?” The man’s heavy accented voice rang out. Yoongi for the life of him, couldn’t figure out where the satoori came from. But he approached the stall either way, maybe he’ll get a small trinket and help the elderly man out.
“Ah yes.” He mumbles out softly. “I was looking for a lamp of sorts. Storm broke my old one and now my home is too dark for my comfort”
Upon further inspection, Yoongi notices the whiteish tint on the elder’s eyes—blind. His hands were wrinkled and scarred, showing decades worth of hard work, and his clothes and deposition showed a humbled existence. He wondered if someone helped him with the set up of the stall.
“A lamp, eh?” The elder seemed to lack most of his teeth, and his smile was more gums than anything. He watches as the old man heaves himself off his small stool and bends down to reach for something under his table. “You in luck, boy. Found me ‘self this in the earth, afta mama’s cry. Buried once but now uncovered. Shame too. Is in good shape.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen upon seeing the ‘lamp’ being lifted and placed on the table.
It was beautiful. “Wow.”
To Yoongi’s knowledge, it looked to be one of those ancient traditional lamps that were used in the temples and palaces more than hundreds of years ago. He only knew this from museums he visited and the papers he wrote in school about the dynasties and their architecture. It was shocking to him how good in shape it was.
It doesn’t look like something that was ‘unearthed’ if the man across from him was to be believed. But Yoongi knew that they didn’t make these lamps anymore, the wood too expensive and the techniques lost in time.
Not to mention, everything inside him told him it was authentic. It must’ve been worth a lot of money, antiques like these were rare and almost impossible to be found in good shape.
He wants it. “How much?” Yoongi looks up to the man, determined to buy off of him and ready to negotiate for it.
The elderly man simply gives him a wide gummy smile, his form relaxed and face unseeing but bright. “For you, boy? 10,000 won ‘nd them rings you have on. Would be nice gift for ‘ma old lady.”
“Deal.” Yoongi didn’t hesitate. These rings he wore were a gift from a producer he worked with, it was one of the few things he had with him that had any monetary value but luckily for the elderly man had no emotional value to him. These rings had nothing compared to the beauty he was staring at.
Rings and money in hand, triple the amount the man asked for since he felt bad, he went to hand it over but then faster than he can comprehend, the elderly man grabbed his hand harshly out of nowhere, nails digging into the wound he had there.
Yoongi winces and just as fast the man lets go.
“Oh ma ‘pologies! This blind man held too fast ‘nd a wrongly.” The man then bows slightly before Yoongi is urging him back onto his feet, the act forgotten and forgiven already.
“No! It’s okay! It happens! Please sit down.” Yoongi wasn’t comfortable with making an elderly man such as himself bow for him, especially since he looked a day away from collapsing. “Look, here.” He grabs the man’s abnormally frigid hands and places the rings and money there, before softly closing his palms. “Now we’re good, yeah?”
The man chuckles softly. “Ah pleasure doin’ business with ya.”
Yoongi smiles back happily. “Likewise.” He goes to pick up the lamp, surprised at how light it weighed. It was as long as Yoongi’s forearm and no doubt the ancient wood should’ve made it heavier but it didn’t. He held onto it very delicately in his arms, a palm supporting the base.
He couldn’t wait to show it off to Taehyung.
What he didn’t realize was that the wound on his hand bled slightly again, due to the man’s harsh grip on him, tearing some scabbing.
Yoongi didn't realize how he left behind an empty stall, the elderly man nowhere in sight.
He especially didn’t realized how the blood that got smeared on the lamp’s base faded seconds later—absorbed.