Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“...and for alchemists from all reaches of the galaxy, this has always been the problem. One thing-- by sheer necessity, by virtue of being physical, by existing in this universe we call home-- cannot ever occupy the exact position as something else. We can get close. Maddeningly, infuriatingly close. But never the same. And maybe that is what it means to be human. 

But what I posit is this: maybe it is not so impossible. Maybe, dear reader, it is only a matter of changing the state of one of the objects to something… nonphysical. Unhuman. More than human. 

Maybe therein lies the key for transcendence.” 

-Pin Ujin, ‘Alchemic Quantum Mechanics: Volume I’

🌘

‘Don’t touch those books,’ the elders always say. ‘Don’t touch them.’

And hey, the elders of Earane were always pretty smart. Except, apparently, when it came to dealing with a lot of young, semi-drunk (read: hammered) Alchemic apprentices. Because if they knew literally anything about the youth of the twentieth century, they’d know that the only thing worse than handing out cryptic half-warnings is handing out cryptic, outright prohibitions . 

Really, they should know better. The elders should expect nothing but the worst kind of behavior from a bunch of twenty-something-year-olds crammed into an old-ass Alchemy school on the edge of the Galaxy. They should’ve been able to see how saying ‘Don’t touch those books!’ would immediately translate into the need to touch those books right-fucking-now.

They should have anticipated that someone—some poor, unfortunate underclassman—would be made to steal said dusty book, smuggle it back to the dormitories, and deposit it into the clutches of some slimy upperclassmen, who would then hide said book until nightfall, take it out into the middle of the surrounding woods, crack it open just to take a peek, just a little peek to see what’s inside-

And then accidentally summon… something .

So, really, it’s because of the elders’ lack of forethought that Jimin is in this mess. The elders, with all of their eternal wisdom and holier-than-thou smiles, should expect it . 

...right? 

These are the things that Jimin tells himself as he goes careening through the forest. The trees whip around him, smacking their little twiggy hands against his face in chastisement as he passes. He doesn’t even try to push them away. Jimin’s body is in the strange mode of survivesurvivesurvive that pushes every rational thought to the perimeter of consciousness.

The kind of ‘oh shit’ that makes his palms sweat underneath his robes, his heart pound out a troublingly fast rhythm against his ribcage, and his brow sweat just enough to make him half-blind from terror.

But somehow, as he rips his way down the canopied forest floor (following the trail, leaving his classmates behind him, ignoring their earth-shattering screams), one thought manages to make it through the haze of panic. 

What were you thinking? a little voice in his head bleats, What were you thinking?

“I don’t know,” Jimin sobs through his teeth. It was just one little peek inside the book, one small glimpse , and now- 

 Now he’s running through the forest in the dead of night tasting the first copper-tinged warnings of death on his tongue. Jimin clenches his teeth; pumps his legs faster, faster ; and makes the time-tested worst mistake of any escape plan ever. 

He looks over his shoulder at the thing behind him. 

The forest is dark. The pine trees that rise hundreds of feet into the horizon are painted green-black in the soft silvery glow of one of the three moons circling above. It looks peaceful for a moment—little flecks of starlight twinkle merrily overhead, smiling down on Jimin in naivety. 

And just when Jimin thinks that maybe, maybe one of his upperclassmen managed to get a handle on the thing that crawled out of the book, something rises in the distance. It’s huge, and cloudy, and darker than black. It’s the absence of light that rises above the treetops, snuffing out the stars in one fell swoop. 

It’s the promise of death on swift wings that spills over the trees, barrels down the path, chases Jimin back towards the school’s dormitories. 

Jimin swallows back a scream of sheer terror. “No,” he sobs through his teeth, whipping his head back around to face the path ahead, “No no no no.” He pumps his legs harder, pushes himself to the limit, because he is Park fucking Jimin, a scholarship student from nothing . He’s made it through so much to get here, and there’s no way that he’s going out like this, there’s no way that he’s-

In the heat of the chase, Jimin misses a step. His foot catches on his opposite ankle. 

And when Park Jimin needs to stay balanced the most, he trips. 

This is where it ends, Jimin thinks as he moves to meet the floor. Huh. 

He doesn’t even have to turn around to know that the cloud of black is here. He can smell it. He can taste it. In his bones, Jimin can feel it. A second passes. Jimin blinks once, and there it is, all at once. His future, laid bare in front of him:

A cloud of black-

A whiff of blood, and then-

Silence. 

🌗

You have to help me. Please.

I just need- I just need your help!

Not yours .

Asshole. 

Wait, Wait! I can make you famous.

I’m an Alchemist,

I can-

Don’t you want to be remembered for something important?

I can do that for you. 

Please. Just help me.

I can pay you back for it. 

Trust me. 

Don’t you want to be someone? 

🌖

Jeongguk would like to meet the asshole who thought that putting a crowd of drunk, smelly workers into one claustrophobic space was a good idea and politely ask them to burn themselves at the stake. 

It isn’t the space that bothers him. This bar is actually one of the nicer ones that Jeongguk frequents-- if any place that serves homemade alcohol between the hours of one and eight AM can actually be called nice . Everything is dark, polished wood and red drapes: red drapes on the front entrance that are beaded with gold, red drapes that line the entrance to the bar’s ‘VIP’ section, red drapes that swoosh open to introduce the swing dancers that leap onto the stage like frenetic pigeons.

It’s dark. Almost oppressive. 

And the absolute best place to get lost among the crowd. 

“Another?” 

Jeongguk blinks up at the barkeep. Namjoon stands there polishing a high-ball class with the quick, practiced ease of a professional. He raises a judgemental eyebrow; the gesture half-dares Jeongguk to order another one. 

Defiantly, Jeongguk slams back the rest of the whiskey in his glass. “Make it a double, please,” he croons sweetly. 

“You know, ordering doubles doesn’t make you edgy,” Namjoon complains.

 Even so, he turns to the wall of glass bottles decorating the bar top behind him. They glow, greens and browns and golds, under the minimal light of the few lanterns that hang this far down underground. The liquor wall itself stretches a good ten feet up towards the ceiling, and even though Namjoon is taller than most earthlings Jeongguk has met, he still has to use a push-ladder to reach Jeongguk’s favorite cinnamon whiskey. 

“It doesn’t make me edgy, but it does make me happy,” Jeongguk hums in satisfaction when Namjoon pours two fingers’ worth of alcohol into his outstretched glass.

Namjoon tuts as he rolls the bottle over the back of his knuckles and spirits it away to its correct spot on the bar. “It’ll be your third one tonight,” he chastises quietly, “That’s six fingers in three hours. You’re going to die at this rate.” 

“You can do math!” Jeongguk sasses over the sound of the jazz band beginning to stir to life in the background. “I’m very proud.” He paws his glass closer, tilts his head to watch the drummer start rolling out a floor tom swing, and hopes that Namjoon will drop it. 

For a while, it seems to work. Namjoon huffs, but wanders further down the bar to mix a martini for a man dressed from head-to-toe in vibrant purple silk. Jeongguk figures that the man is a trader, one that’s come in from one of the recent caravan supply drops that tend to port on this planet. 

Jeongguk sweeps his eyes around the bar as he listens to the music. It’s an unfortunate force of habit, something that he’d picked up in his time in Her Empresses’ Tactical Force and that’s kept him alive during his most recent form of employment. 

There are two Firebird women in the process of conning a small Pixie out of his life’s fortune. The plumes of red and gold feathers around their necks and chests settle triumphantly as they work, but Jeongguk pays the Firebirds no mind. It’s none of his business-- at least not without payment. 

His eyes skip further over the crowd. There’s an Android on stage, dressed in shimmering silver fabric as they flip and twist and twirl their dance partner around to the tempo of the drumbeat. Jeongguk can tell that the Android’s ankle is acting up. They’re putting too much weight on the opposite foot, and it’s shaking like it’s going to give out soon. 

With a scoff, Jeongguk averts his eyes and sips his whiskey. Again, not his problem. 

He loses himself to the feeling of surveying the crowd at his back and the comforting rumbling of the jazz sestet’s noise, so much so that when Namjoon approaches silently, Jeongguk jerks in shock. His knee slams up into the bar top painfully, and Jeongguk sort of wants to curse these stupid, dinky-looking barstools that’re much too high for a person of his stature. 

“What?” Jeongguk asks crankily as he rubs his knee. 

Namjoon looks like he’s fighting back a smirk. “I said, ‘You know, me and the other bartenders have a fun pool going.’” 

Years of experience tell Jeongguk not to take the bait, but he’s just starting to feel the buzz of alcohol in his system. It might take longer for him than the average Human, but he can eventually feel the tingling in his limbs and the heaviness of his tongue. 

Leaning into the feeling, Jeongguk recklessly prods, “Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

“It’s called ‘How Many Drinks Can Jeongguk Have Before His Liver Turns into a Blob of Mush?’” 

Someone snickers from further down the bar. Jeongguk is willing to bet it’s that trader from earlier. He seemed like he’d have a penchant for eavesdropping. Still, refusing to give in and let Namjoon have the last taunt, Jeongguk sniffs, all poise and grace, “And how many did you bet I could drink?” 

“Eight.” 

Do-able, Jeongguk thinks to himself, though there’s already a small bit of regret pooling deep in his stomach at the prospect of what he’s about to do. 

Jeongguk makes himself do it anyway. In one smooth motion, he grabs the glass, drains it, and slams it back down in front of a wide-eyed, concerned-looking Namjoon. “Better get pouring then. One more double before you can win the bet.” 

“I appreciate your service,” Namjoon drawls. He rolls his eyes but reaches back for the bottle anyway. The white linen of his dress shirt tugs across his chest as he moves, and the not-so-insignificant amount of muscle on Namjoon’s chest gives Jeongguk pause. 

What’s someone as strong as him doing bartending in a place like this? the sober part of Jeongguk’s brain thinks to ask. The much larger, much less sober portion of Jeongguk’s brain pushes the thought away. 

Not our problem. 

“Have you ever actually tested how much you can drink before you black out?” Namjoon interrupts, turning back around with the familiar bottle in hand. He gestures vaguely to Jeongguk, waves his hand about as he talks. “I mean, you’re a pretty big guy. It’s got to be somewhere in the double digits, right?” 

Jeongguk wants to wince, but he makes his face stay neutral. He knows he’s tall-- abnormally so. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make him squirm every time someone points it out. 

“No,” he answers simply. 

Namjoon nods, but he seems committed to making Jeongguk’s life particularly difficult tonight. It’s a little strange, considering that, in the five years Jeongguk has been getting drunk at this bar, this is the longest sustained conversation he’s ever had with the barkeep. 

Maybe it’s because Jeongguk never usually stays this long. Maybe it’s because the bar is usually more crowded. 

Maybe it’s because Jeongguk hates himself just a little bit more than usual tonight, and is looking for something to do about it. 

“Honestly, I’m amazed your uniform even fits you,” Namjoon says thoughtfully. “That’s got to be, what, at least five meters of fabric?”

Before Jeongguk can even begin to decide if he wants to answer, Namjoon snorts, “Though why anyone would willingly buy such a boring ensemble is beyond me.” 

Jeongguk looks down at his black jumpsuit. It’s long enough to reach down to his ankles and wrists when he doesn’t cuff the hems, and there’s one long zipper that snakes its way from waist to neck that’s usually unzipped enough to showcase his set of golden dog tags. He’s got thigh holsters on each leg and a collar that rises to mid-neck when popped. 

Jeongguk likes his outfit. It’s been with him for a while; it’s seen him through some of his worst nights. 

“This is my work uniform,” Jeongguk bitches, “I like it. Mind your own business.” 

Wrinkling his nose, Namjoon twists the whiskey bottle in his hand and shoots back, “It’s horrible.” 

As the horns in the background crescendo into chaos, Jeongguk seethes, irrationally annoyed at the fact that Namjoon’s insulting his outfit. It’s a testament to how tipsy he is that this seems like a measured response. 

“It’s better than yours. What are those things on your arms even for? ” Jeongguk points to the thin black bands that wrap around Namjoon’s biceps overtop of his white shirt. 

The insult seems to strike a chord in Namjoon. “I don’t know, Jeongguk, what’s the purpose of having fifteen pockets on one jumpsuit?” 

“I use them!” Jeongguk protests. 

Namjoon piques an eyebrow skeptically. “I am willing to sell you this bar right here, right now if you empty your pockets and prove it to me.” 

Hesitation runs through Jeongguk. He most certainly does not have something in each pocket, but he’s not about to confess to it. “Like I’d want this piece of shit in the first place,” Jeongguk mutters moodily under his breath. 

“You chicken,” Namjoon laughs over the saxophone bleating out a solo, “Here’s your drink. Take it and go bother someone else.” 

Jeongguk’s pulse rises with annoyance. “ You bothered me!”

“Semantics.” 

“I actually hate your fucking guts,” Jeongguk hisses, though they both know that isn’t true. Five years of traded secrets over the bartop don’t exactly amount to nothing, even if it is just another form of currency around these parts. 

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have a mirror to be ogling your muscles in right now?” 

“Oh, my gods. You’re insufferable,” Jeongguk grumbles. As fast as he can, he downs the last two fingers of whiskey. 

Eight in total, his brain whispers fuzzily, You went and screwed yourself this time, Jeongguk. 

The concern slowly growing in Namjoon’s eyes doesn’t escape Jeongguk’s notice. Neither does the tidbit of anxiety in his tone when he drops his voice and asks carefully, “You’re not walking home by yourself tonight, are you?” 

For a second, Namjoon looks his age. Just for a moment, the little crow's feet that’re developing around his eyes deepen as he scowls at Jeongguk. He looks like an older brother, or an uncle, or like someone who actually cares about Jeongguk’s well-being. 

And it’s that plus the genuine worry in Namjoon’s words that proves to be just a bit too much for Jeongguk to handle. 

So he taunts, “You worried about me?” 

Just like that, the concern drips off Namjoon’s face like water. “Me? A bartender, worried that someone I served is going to die of alcohol intoxication?” he snorts, eyes hardening, “How absurd.”

You’re an asshole, the small voice in Jeongguk’s head whispers. An absolute asshole. 

A drop of guilt sinks into Jeongguk’s stomach, but he makes himself stand up anyway. “I’ll just settle my tab, then,” he mutters under his breath. 

Namjoon looks up at him for a second, eyes searching for something that Jeongguk knows he won’t find. After a long moment, Namjoon pokes his tongue into his cheek and sighs heavily. “Alright. How do you want to pay today?” 

Jeongguk considers. Gold is out of the question. Physical currency hasn’t been used since the Unification Era, because gold and silver are meaningless when there’s too much of it. 

“You want a limerick?” he asks. 

Namjoon shrugs. “Hit me.” 

“ ‘There once was a man from Nantucket-’” 

“No plagiarizing.” Namjoon nods his mop of gold hair towards the sign above the club’s doorway that reads, in very large and swooped font, ‘NO PLAGIARISING’. 

Jeongguk curses. “Fuck off. Fine.” And though he doesn’t want to do it, Jeongguk really doesn’t have any other options. He doesn’t have any trinkets, and he can’t cast magic, so a piece of himself will have to do. “I’ll give you a secret, then,” Jeongguk begrudgingly offers. 

“Go for it.” Namjoon leans forward, elbows propped onto the bar, and looks excited at the prospect of getting his hands on a piece of Jeongguk’s truth. 

Hesitation courses through Jeongguk, all the way to his toes. How can you give something away so willingly, he yells at himself, When you have so little to yourself in the first place? 

He pushes the feeling away. And then carefully, heart skipping as his mouth opens, Jeongguk starts quietly, “Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I look in the mirror and think-”

“HELP ME!” someone shouts from the entrance to the bar. 

“Well that’s not exactly where I was going with that,” Jeongguk huffs, already turning to look over his shoulder at the hand-crank elevator that opens with a tired shudder. 

The jazz band in the corner dies as a man slumps through the doorway. Even from all the way across the room, Jeongguk can tell that he’s handsome underneath all of the blood and grime that marrs his face. His features are delicate-- surprisingly so, considering that he’s out here, in a bar like this -- and there’s a softness to his face that piques Jeongguk’s interest. He hasn’t seen someone honest-looking in months. 

But then the stranger opens his mouth again, and the illusion of delicacy is shattered into a million little pieces. “Fucking move out of the way or help me!” the man practically screeches over the excited murmurings of the crowd that surrounds him, “Someone!” 

Jeongguk’s skin itches to move to assist, but he makes sure that his feet stay firmly rooted to the spot. Someone else will step up, he soothes himself. 

Sure enough, Namjoon leaps over the bartop easily. He clambers over to the strange man, grabs one of the two large, brown-leather bags that the man has draped across his back. “Hey, hey, take it easy,” Namjoon urges gently, “What’s going on?” 

“You have to help me,” the man repeats on loop, “Please.” 

It’s only then that Jeongguk realizes that the man is near-hysterical. He’s got tear tracks streaking down his cheeks and large gashes ruining the loose, emerald-green robes draped over his small frame. 

Someone else. Not you, Jeongguk. Let someone else do it. 

Fate seems to have a different plan. Namjoon guides the stranger to the barstool exactly adjacent to where Jeongguk is currently standing. “Well, you’ve happened upon the right guy,” he explains, casting a meaningful glance towards Jeongguk. 

In that moment, Jeongguk seriously debates slapping Namjoon all the way into the next galaxy, but he restrains himself. Barely. 

Behind the stranger’s drooping, shivering shoulders, the crowd dissipates. Blood only holds their interest for so long, so when the jazz band picks up the swing tune again right where they left off, the formerly concerned mob dissolves into a mess of dancing, inebriated bodies once again. 

The stranger sniffs. “What do you mean?” 

Don’t fucking do it, Jeongguk tries to communicate to Namjoon with his stare, Do not. 

“This here is Jeon Jeongguk, the best Private-Investigator-slash-Bodyguard on this side of the galaxy,” Namjoon offers with a blindingly bright smile. “He’s got a spotless record and killer aim. And he uses all fifteen of his pockets.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes so hard that it hurts. “Oh, shut up. And I’m not a bodyguard, ” he hisses, but it’s too late. 

“Really?” the stranger breathes, craning his neck up and back to look at Jeongguk head-on.

And for a second, just for a second, Jeongguk’s breath whooshes out of his lungs. 

From afar, the man is handsome. From up close, he’s absolutely devastating. 

His eyes are green-grey and swirling with intelligence. His nose is small and just a bit upturned, and his lips are so perfect that Jeongguk sort of wants to reach out and touch them. 

(He doesn’t, because Jeon Jeongguk is a professional .) 

(But he wants to.)

 “I just- I just need your help,” the stranger whispers again. The soft sound of it breaks Jeongguk out of whatever spell he’d been under. 

He doesn’t get the chance to reply before that same purple-swathed trader from earlier is calling from further down the bar, “I can help you, sweetheart.” 

In an instant, the softness on the stranger’s face disintegrates. “Not yours, asshole,” he spits so violently that the trader actually pales at the threat. 

“What’s the problem?” Namjoon prompts as he sets down the two satchels on the bartop. 

With a deep breath, the man starts, “Something is after-”

Jeongguk only half-listens to the reply. There’s something about this man-- something that Jeongguk can’t exactly place. His robes indicate that he’s some kind of spellcaster, and he carries himself with the confidence of a scholar, but the ease with which he hardens himself sends unease settling into Jeongguk’s bones like lead. 

This man is trouble. 

And though Jeongguk is familiar with trouble, intimately familiar with it, he takes a step backward. The last thing he needs is more drama. Jeongguk was just supposed to be on this planet long enough to hop to the nearest solar system for a new, low-stakes missing person’s case. 

“I’ll see you later, Namjoon,” Jeongguk hears himself say.

The stranger whips his head around, something like disbelief darkening his features. “You’re seriously walking away? Aren’t you a PI?” 

“I don’t take bounty hunting cases,” Jeongguk explains, eyes narrowing at the tenacity hiding on the stranger’s face, “Or cases involving violence.” 

With a scoff, the stranger points out, “You’re carrying guns.” 

“So?”

“ So?” the man parrots incredulously, pivoting fully around on his stool to stare up at Jeongguk, “Carrying guns sort of implies that you plan to use them.” 

Jeongguk’s back goes ramrod straight. The two solid gold pistols on either leg suddenly feel like lead. He’s a fantastic shot. An unfortunately fantastic shot. 

“You’re carrying around two bags of luggage,” Jeongguk volleys back before he can stop himself, “You planning on beating me over the head with them at any point?” 

Through clenched teeth, the man grits out, “No.” 

“There you go.” Jeongguk turns on his heel, already committed to getting in the lift and leaving this hellhole behind him until tomorrow night. He can settle the tab later. 

But then the man surges off of his stool, grabs the rolled-up sleeve of Jeongguk’s jumpsuit with desperate fingers. “Wait, wait!” the stranger practically pleads, “I can- I can make you famous if you help me. I’m an Alchemist, I can-”

Jeongguk whirls at the touch. He looks down his nose at the man, almost marveling at his sheer audacity. The top of the stranger’s head doesn’t even reach Jeongguk’s collarbones, and he has the nerve to try his luck with bribery . 

“I’m not interested,” Jeongguk growls, letting his voice drop menacingly. “Back off.”

Remarkably, the stranger doesn’t look the least bit cowed. “Listen to me,” the man hisses right back, equally as irritated, “I’ve got a Demon on my trail and no way to shake it. I just need someone to take me to the next planet over.” 

“Oh, a Demon?” Jeongguk feigns interest, “Why didn’t you just say so?” 

The stranger’s face lights up hopefully. “So you’ll do it?” 

Jeongguk lets his face fall into another scowl. “No.” 

“ Jeongguk!” Namjoon chastises, but it sounds suspiciously like a muffled laugh. 

Something comes to life in the stranger’s face. It’s not rage, or irritation, or desperation. It looks like something older. Wiser. And in a voice that’s much too self-assured for a beaten-up, tiny speck of a Human man, the stranger demands, “Don’t you want to be remembered for something important? I can do that for you.”

Remember. The word bounces around Jeongguk’s skull, because that’s really the whole problem, isn’t it? Remembering everything. 

“No,” Jeongguk denies again. He wrenches his arm out of the man’s hold.

“Please. Just help me; I can pay you back for it!” the stranger tries, pleading once more, “Trust me.”

And then, over the sound of the crashing cymbals of the drums, or the stampede of feet dancing on the polished floor, or the sound of glasses clinking further down the bar, the stranger breathes, quiet and serious enough to rattle Jeongguk’s bones:

“Don’t you want to be someone?” 

Jeongguk takes a step back involuntarily, and then two. No, he makes himself think, because wanting anything is dangerous. Especially for him. 

No. 

So he spits. “Absolutely not. Good luck with your Demon problem. Hope it pans out well for you.” Jeongguk turns to Namjoon who watches with wide eyes and says, “Here’s your secret, Namjoon: I’ve got a mole on my left foot.” 

“That in no way covers your tab,” Namjoon calls after him, but Jeongguk doesn’t stay long enough to care. 

He pushes past the crashing waves of bodies of Fae and Humans and Others, past the security guards that stand firm by the elevator doors. Jeongguk doesn’t stop until he’s in the golden, gilded safety of the iron machine, two layers of plated iron between him and the mysterious stranger. 

But even while he ascends into the long tunnel that’ll take him up to the surface, Jeongguk feels the itch burning beneath his skin. When Jeongguk looks back at the bar, the man is staring at him, daggers in his eyes. 

Jeongguk makes himself look away, ignores the need to help that’s seeping into his bones despite everything he’s tried to do to convince himself that some people aren’t worth it, even if they’re desperate. It’s all he has-- all he can do to cope with everything he’s already done and everyone he’s already hurt. 

Because there are a lot of desperate people out there, and the gods abandoned all of them anyway. 

They abandoned Jeongguk. 

They can abandon that stranger, too. 

🌕

Jeongguk watches his legs dangle over the edge of the high-rise building. There’s a part of his brain that’s whispering, ‘ Why aren’t you afraid? You should be afraid,’ but Jeongguk doesn’t pay it any attention. 

He has to be this high off of the ground if he wants to see the suns rise. 

Below his feet, the obsidian-glass surface of the planet swirls. There’s no one on the streets, but of course there isn’t. The people on this planet fear the suns just like they fear the smell of clean air and the feeling of wind on their cheeks. 

It’s probably a result of centuries of underground living. All the tunnels and insurmountable darkness under the skin of the planet are comfortable and familiar; the open space that the above-ground realm provides is too much. It’s uncomfortable. 

But Jeongguk can’t imagine being trapped underground. Even here, sitting on top of the black-rock buildings that rise high into the sky and crowd the entire surface of the planet, Jeongguk feels at ease. There’s something in his bones that tells Jeongguk that he belongs up here. Not down there, scurrying on the surface of the planet long enough to take an elevator below ground or ride one up into an equally-cramped skyscraper. 

One more day, Jeongguk coaches himself, Just one more day on this planet, and then you’ll move on to the next planet. 

There’s comfort in knowing that he won’t be stuck among these black buildings that block out the light from the streets for any longer than he has to. But the comfort doesn’t last for very long, because every time Jeongguk closes his eyes to savor the feeling of the two red suns on his face, the stranger from the bar flashes behind his eyelids. 

“Fuck,” Jeongguk curses under his breath. He shakes his head quickly to try and dispel the man’s face from his mind, but it doesn’t seem to work. 

Don’t you want to be someone? the man’s voice bounces around Jeongguk’s head, desperate and pleading. 

“No,” Jeongguk denies, even though there’s no one up here to listen to him except the wind that howls by, “ No.” 

Jeongguk lets himself fall back onto the cool black stone of the top of the high-rise. He rubs his eyes with his knuckles, trying to ignore the swell of guilt that knots in his throat and makes it hard to breathe. 

Didn’t you go into this business to help people? that annoying voice that sounds suspiciously like a conscience hisses, Aren’t you supposed to be making up for all of the things you’ve done? 

“Stop,” Jeongguk tells himself. 

But the thoughts are there, pushing past what Jeongguk wants.

Isn’t this supposed to help you make amends? Giving life instead of taking it? 

Quickly, Jeongguk rights himself. “ Enough,” he growls to himself, loud enough to drown out the doubts swirling through his brain. His eyes focus on the horizon as Jeongguk takes all of the guilt and the shame and the anger that threatens to eat him alive and shoves it down his throat. He locks the feeling away, tight and secure. 

“Focus, Jeongguk,” he mutters. “No bounty cases. No violence. If he doesn’t fit the criteria, then that’s his problem.” 

The words taste acidic as they come off of his tongue. Jeongguk hates that he’s feeling this way, that some random fucking stranger in a bar can send his head spinning with just a few words. He’d just looked so desperate . Jeongguk thinks he’d seen a bit of himself reflected in the man’s eyes. It curls something uncomfortable in his chest, cold and knife-like. 

Jeongguk catches himself before he can spiral back into the guilt he’d just sealed away. “Get a grip. Get a grip,” he tells himself. Jeongguk rises to his feet, watches the darkened world swirl below his feet mercilessly, and starts to make his way back to the elevator that will take him to the ground floor. 

He walks, but the two twin pistols on his thighs weigh him down. Jeongguk doesn’t know why he keeps them; he hasn’t used them in years. They’re plated gold, heavy and ornately inscribed, and completely useless to him now. 

Lethe, one is called. ‘Forget.’ 

Aletheia, the other reads. ‘Remember.’ 

Jeongguk shudders as he remembers the last time he drew his guns. It was on his twenty-third birthday, only a few years back. He still remembers the face of the Fae he’d pointed the guns at; Jeongguk can still feel how it felt to pull the triggers, to silence that part of him that screamed at him to let the Fae live. 

He didn’t. 

With another shake of his head, Jeongguk makes his way across the roof and tries to banish the ghosts of his past from his mind. He’ll bury all of the memories down-- deep down-- if it’ll keep the nightmares at bay for just a while longer. Just until he can figure out what’s wrong with him. Just long enough to remember who he was before. 

But for the second time in less than a day, Fate doesn’t seem to give a shit about what he wants. 

It starts as a rumbling on the horizon, almost too faint to hear. 

But Jeongguk has better ears than most, and even if he didn’t, there’s no way he’d forget the sound of spacecraft engines. Sure enough, in the sky that’s bruised purple with the rising suns, two Alpha-62s come plunging out of orbit. 

Jeongguk watches with his breath caught in his throat as the crafts morph shape in front of his eyes. The gunner capsule that rotates in a concentric circle around the craft while in orbit collapses, reattaching itself to the underside of the ship as the gravity of the planet weighs on the hull. 

It should be beautiful, really, because the polished black surface of the crafts reflect the morning sunlight. It bounces across the Alpha-62s as they race across the horizon, probably heading towards one of the military bases on the planet. 

It should be beautiful, because Jeongguk doesn’t feel as at home anywhere else than he does when he’s in the air, in a craft just like those. 

But behind Jeongguk’s eyes, shadows rise. Monsters descend in the form of exploding canisters and dropped bombs that incinerate everything in their path. Bullets punch through the hulls of enemy spacecrafts. The flames that consume them flicker to life behind Jeongguk’s eyes, a reminder of everything that he’s left behind.

Jeongguk can still remember how quiet combat was in the Outer Reaches. He can recall how his fingers twitched around the gun’s controls as they sent silent spears of light straight through bodies and ships alike. 

The worst part, though, was how silent the deaths were. In space, Jeongguk never heard the clamor and the chaos of ending a life. It makes everything infinitely worse. 

Because it’s easy to block out screams and explosions. They fade with time and disuse. But silence-- silence is everywhere. It waits for Jeongguk in his rented hotel rooms at night; it lingers when he’s all alone on rooftops; it plays on loop in his head when he’s all alone. And in the horrible, deafening silence, Jeongguk imagines the death cries of everyone he’s ever had a hand in killing. He can imagine their shrieks of terror, or the sound of metal scraping as the ships are engulfed in merciless flames. 

He can-

The ships pass, and Jeongguk blinks back into reality. 

There’s a cold sweat lining the back of his neck. It drips down his spine underneath his jumpsuit. 

“Deep breaths,” Jeongguk whispers to himself over the sound of the wind whipping his hair around. He makes himself breathe in slowly, hold the air in his lungs, exhale. It helps. 

Jeongguk takes one last look around the deserted rooftop. The world crashes around him in a tidal wave of obsidian-black. It strikes him, then, how it’s a privilege to be up here. To be standing at the edge of everything, unafraid of the sunlight, basking in the scenery of the suns cresting across the sky. 

So many people are not allowed this opportunity, Jeongguk’s conscience whispers in his ear, so many people are held down. Oppressed. Being kept from the means to become fully alive. So many people, just like-

The stranger in the bar. 

Jeongguk shakes the thought away. He’s not doing this again. Jeon Jeongguk has made up his mind. He’s skipping town tomorrow morning, and that’s the end of it. 

With one more backward glance, Jeongguk steps into the elevator and descends into the darkness below. 

🌔

Unfortunately, avoidance doesn’t keep the nightmares at bay. 

The Alpha-62s pull on the worst of Jeongguk’s memories and bring them to the surface. It doesn’t matter that Jeongguk would like to keep that part of him sealed off for the rest of his miserable life. 

Fate, apparently the biggest pain in his ass, has other plans for him. 

The nightmare starts with a bang, just like all of them do.

Jeongguk sits in the gunner capsule, rotating around the spherical combat-configuration of the Alpha-62 he’s stationed inside.

Someone shouts in his ear. “Echo, two marks on our left six!”

“Loud and clear,” Jeongguk hisses back into the microphone. Without relinquishing his grip on the gun’s control stick, Jeongguk pushes his right knee outward. It collides with the metal panel positioned just on the periphery of his command chair. As soon as it’s depressed, Jeongguk’s glass gunner capsule goes zipping around to the back of the ship. 

When Jeongguk was a trainee, this part used to be disorienting. Now Jeongguk lives for the rush of adrenaline that drops into his bloodstream as he spins around the spacecraft at dizzying speeds. 

Before Jeongguk even stops moving, the twin guns flanking his capsule are in position. He locks them onto the two crafts that chase them through the Outer Reaches. Without hesitation, Jeongguk pulls the trigger on his right gun.

A burst of painfully-bright light speeds from the tip, sails through the void of space, and smashes through the enemy craft without a sound. Jeongguk doesn’t let himself dwell on the fact that bodies are thrown from the opposite craft from the force of the ship’s explosion.

He’s already locking on to the next target and depressing the trigger. 

Jeongguk remembers this fight. His tactical unit took out twenty spacecrafts that day. During the battle, Jeongguk felt nothing. Each enemy ship carried the promise of death, full to the brim with soldiers who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between Jeongguk’s eyes. 

But it’s after-- when Jeongguk is having some kind of medal pinned to the lapel of his pilot’s jumper-- that the truth sinks in.

Twenty ships. Five soldiers per ship. One hundred dead souls, lost in the void of space. Because of him . 

Sweat beads across Jeongguk’s brow as guilt claws its way up his throat, scratching up his vocal chords as Jeongguk barely manages to contain his scream. 

And then everyone is looking at Jeongguk. Looking, like they can see the stain on his soul that Jeongguk already feels. Like they can tell that Jeongguk is an imposter, as though they’re all aware that the regret inside Jeongguk is eating him alive. 

In the ceremony room, on the stage receiving one of his many awards, Jeon Jeongguk is suddenly acutely aware that the crowd around him is chanting. But it’s not his name, and it’s not a congratulations. 

Every single one of the Humans, Fae, and Others in the room are whispering quietly:

“Don’t you want to be somebody?” 

No, Jeongguk wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat. There’s a hand wrapped around his neck, and Jeongguk only absently realizes that it might be his own. 

No! Jeongguk screams in his head. No sound makes its way past his lips as Jeongguk chokes on the truth of his past. 

No, no, no-

Jeongguk lurches upright in bed. 

He can’t breathe. He can’t see. For a few, terrifying seconds, Jeongguk is caught in the space in between sleep and consciousness. 

Calm down, he coaches, even as the sweat-slick sheets cling to his skin, You need to calm down. It takes a handful of minutes before Jeongguk’s lungs remember how to breathe again. By the time he comes down from his panic, his head is spinning. 

“Damn it,” Jeongguk curses, viscerally upset. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed that’s much too small for him and pads past the wall of windows on one side of the hotel room. 

Jeongguk barely spares a glance outside. It’s still dark outside; three lavender moons swirl around the planet in spiraling concentric circles. They cast an eerie purple glow along the all-black surface of the planet. From up this high, Jeongguk could see most of the surrounding city spread out on his street, but there’s really no point-- all the nightlife is underground, and nobody ventures out into the city unless they absolutely have to. 

So Jeongguk ignores the potentially breathtaking sight right outside of his hotel room in favor of trudging along the grey-carpeted floor. He ducks under the doorway to the bathroom, desperate to settle the persistent itch under his skin. Jeongguk hasn’t stopped feeling that itch-- though really, it’s more like a burning -- since he’d encountered the man in the bar. 

It’s beyond infuriating. Jeongguk is absolutely livid, and the worst part is that he has no idea why. He’s declined more desperate people before, good and bad. So really, the man shouldn’t be affecting him this much. But he is , and it’s all because of the fucking questions he’d asked Jeongguk, honing in on some of Jeongguk’s biggest insecurities in fewer than five minutes. 

“Gods,” Jeongguk curses under his breath. He leans down over the blackened marble sink, nearly having to bend himself completely in half to splash water on his face. 

The cold grounds him, roots him more firmly into reality. As the pressure that’d been building in Jeongguk’s chest lessens, Jeongguk looks at himself in the mirror. It takes a bit of finagling, since nothing on this planet seems to have been built for someone as tall as him, but Jeongguk manages to stare at his reflection with just a bit of crouching. 

He sweeps his eyes over his appearance. It’s something that he does every night, hoping in vain that something about the face that stares back at him will spark that little bit of memory hiding deep inside of him. 

But all Jeongguk sees are the things he always sees: black, slightly unkempt hair trimmed into the undercut that’s characteristic of Her Empresses’ Tactical Force; lightly tanned skin that bears a smattering of scars and bruises of varying sizes; the dotted tattoo on the back of his neck that’s inked into a geometric pattern; the gold stud that’s embedded in the helix of his left ear. 

Frowning, Jeongguk stares into the eyes of his reflection. They’re just as he remembers-- black all the way through with vibrant circles of gold surrounding the outer edges of his irises and pupils. He searches the gaze that stares back at him, looking for a hint of his past before the Tactical Force. 

It’s frustrating, because the face that Jeongguk stares at feels like his. There’s just nothing else there. Jeongguk can’t remember how he got the small scar on his cheekbone. He doesn’t remember getting his ears pierced. Jeongguk doesn’t even know how old he is. All he remembers is that, sometime in the past, he’d been handed a set of golden dog tags etched with what must be his birthday-- 09/01/1900. It’s the only thing that tells Jeongguk that he’s currently twenty-five, though he knows the memories of the previous twenty years before his military service didn’t just miraculously disappear. 

“Come on,” Jeongguk urges, watching as his reflection speaks along with him, “Come on. There has to be something. Come on!”

Nothing rises to the surface-- not one single memory. It feels like there’s a fog clouding his mind, preventing him from peering into who he was before he joined the Tactical Force. And maybe this is why Jeongguk is so bothered by the man in the bar. 

He doesn’t want to be someone; Jeongguk just wants to remember who he was in the first place. 

It’s at that moment that Jeongguk decides that he’s going to walk back to his bed, firmly ignore all of his problems, and try to get some more sleep. But his feet don’t move. Jeongguk is rooted firmly to the spot for reasons that he can’t explain. 

There’s this sinking feeling of dread that seeps into his bones in an instant. Fear coats his tongue with copper as Jeongguk stares at his reflection. Something niggles in the back of his brain, whispering over and over to him the same words that Jeongguk has tried his best to block out for the last two years. 

Why are you doing this to yourself? the voice pleads, You can move on. You can be better, become someone greater than who you were. 

Jeongguk tries to shake his head definitely, but he can’t move at all. 

You can be more, Jeon Jeongguk, as soon as you stop being afraid. 

“I’m not afraid,” Jeongguk hisses at his reflection, but it looks skeptical. 

You can’t control the past. You can’t control the future, the voice mutters soothingly in his ear, But maybe you can control your present. 

The stranger’s voice rings in his ears, whispering the same words one more time. 

Don’t you want to be someone, Jeon Jeongguk?

Jeongguk wants to be a bad person. He wants to be the hideous Human being that he’s convinced himself that he is. But for some reason, he can’t. Not this time. 

Still, Jeongguk shakes his head. Absolutely not, he thinks venomously. No, I don’t, he mutters back silently in reply. But the truth stares back at Jeongguk from the mirror. 

Jeongguk’s reflection opens its mouth. Jeongguk tries to thrash against the urge to confess what he’s really feeling, even to himself. 

The world slows for a moment; the gods hold their breath under the blood of the moons. 

Jeongguk’s reflection stands to its full height. “ Yes,” it says, “I do.” 

And Jeongguk’s iron-clad resolve breaks. 

Feeling rushes back into Jeongguk’s body all at once. And then he’s rushing from the bathroom, tugging his black jumpsuit over his boxers. He grabs his guns, slides them into his holsters, and swipes up his room key. 

Jeongguk races down the hotel’s hallways, on his way to meet a stranger in a bar in the dead of night. 

This is it, something whispers from above, from below, from all around Jeongguk as he sprints to the elevator. This is it.

The beginning of everything. 

🌓

It may be quiet on the surface of the planet, but tucked below the surface, life explodes. 

The dichotomy is always shocking when Jeongguk steps off of the golden, gilded main elevator that leads down into the Underground’s central square. The cavern that the elevator opens into is tall and wide, large enough to house an enormous fountain and several rows of underground vendors. Copper, torso-sized mechanical lightning bugs crawl across the cavern’s ceiling, casting the open space in uncertain bouts of shadow and light. Usually, Jeongguk would appreciate the noise of the crowd surrounding him, but right now he’s got somewhere to be. 

Fast. 

The second that the lift’s crosshatch metal doors slide open, Jeongguk takes off into a sprint. Someone squawks as Jeongguk pushes past them and out into the cavern beyond, but Jeongguk can’t bring himself to give a shit. 

There’s no guarantee that the stranger will still be in the bar-- hell, it’s likely that he’s already gone. But the burning that lingers under Jeongguk’s skin intensifies with every step that he takes until he feels like if he doesn’t get to the bar soon, he’ll actually die. 

Jeongguk lets his feet carry him. He barely pays attention to anything other than the steady thrumming of his heart against his ears as he races through the center square. Vendors have their carts pushed so close together that it’s harder to navigate than usual, but Jeongguk is more agile than most. 

He ducks under the strings of papel picado that criss-cross the alleyway, twirls out from under the lanterns that threaten to smack him in the head as he pivots on his ankle to rush down a small alleyway. 

Come on come on come on , Jeongguk urges himself, pushing his legs to run faster than he’s had to in a long time. 

“Watch where you’re going!” the Loup-Garou manning one of the food stalls snaps, gnashing its sharp teeth at Jeongguk in warning. 

“Sorry,” Jeongguk calls with a quick glance over his shoulder. 

The small movement almost costs Jeongguk his life. Less than a heartbeat after Jeongguk’s head whips back around, he’s met with the sight of a ladder pressed up against the cave wall ahead of him. It’s alarmingly close, so close that Jeongguk only has a few seconds to duck under the rungs of the ladder.

He barely misses catching his head on the wooden steps. As he crosses under, Jeongguk looks up and is met with the surprised expression of the Elf who stands at the top of the ladder painting a colorful mural onto the blank cave wall ahead. Her lips twist into a surprised ‘O’, but Jeongguk moves so fast that he’s out from under her in the blink of an eye.

Across the way, Jeongguk can see the entrance to The Speakeasy-- the bar where he spends most of his nights on this planet. And mornings. And afternoons. 

Jeongguk swiftly navigates around the twists and turns of the underground tunnel system.  It occurs to Jeongguk as he spins through the final stretch that this is almost fun . And Jeongguk- Jeongguk can’t remember the last time that he had fun . It’s definitely sad that this qualifies as fun, but something about the race of his heartbeat between his ears, the strain in his legs, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins brings the beginnings of a smile to Jeongguk’s face. 

All at once, he remembers why he enjoyed the Tactical Force in the first place-- to chase this feeling. To be so lost in the movement and headrush that everything else inside of his brain quiets to nothing more than a hesitant whisper, lost among the chaos of battle. 

It’s euphoric; it’s peaceful ; it’s-

Over all too soon. 

Jeongguk skids to a halt in front of the gilded elevator that descends lower into the planet’s bedrock. Pulse pounding against his ribcage, Jeongguk offers an awkward nod to the startled Human that mans the crank inside of the shaft. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, squeezing in between two burly-looking construction workers. Jeongguk towers over them, but both of the muscular women have the uncanny ability to make him feel like a weakling in their presence. He offers them a somewhat nervous smile as the elevator shaft shudders to life. 

The inside is swathed in darkness for a few long moments as it dips deeper, deeper underground. For a second, Jeongguk feels like he’s buried in a casket, trapped in between two solid walls. Thankfully, just as Jeongguk feels the beginnings of claustrophobia creeping through his limbs, the lift grinds to a halt. 

Jeongguk pushes past the two women crowding him and practically bursts through the red velvet curtains covering the elevator’s entrance until he’s surrounded in the cluttered comfort of The Speakeasy. Even though it’s late, so late that it’s practically morning, there are at least a hundred bodies packed into the space. 

Normally, Jeongguk would take his time, observe the crowd, but the itch under his skin intensifies the moment he steps foot into the bar. Jeongguk pushes his way through the sea of people crowding the light-up dance floor and shoves his way over to the bar. 

Namjoon stands behind the bartop polishing yet another highball glass. He raises his eyebrows as Jeongguk approaches. “Back already?” he asks, “It’s a little late, even for you.” 

“I’m not here to drink,” Jeongguk rushes out with a shake of his head. “I’m looking for the man from last night. Have you seen him?” 

Scoffing, Namjoon huffs, “Do you honestly think that he stayed here all of yesterday? Isn’t it more logical to assume that he got a hotel or something last night?” 

“Namjoon,” Jeongguk grumbles out the warning, already craning his neck to peruse the crowd. The press of bodies is too thick to spot any one particular face, and it’s with increasing dread that Jeongguk has the feeling that he’s going to have to methodically make his way through every single person in the bar before he finds the man he’s looking for. 

“I’m just saying,” Namjoon hums, “You gotta learn how to use your brain. Improve your deductive logic skills. Read more or something.”

Jeongguk whirls on his heel. “Namjoon,” he grits out, pointing menacingly at the barkeep, “Is. He. Here.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Yes.” 

“I will punch you in the face for this someday,” Jeongguk hisses spitefully. “You suck.” 

“Even your insults are uneducated.” Namjoon volleys the comeback without so much as lifting his eyes off of the spotless glass. 

It irks Jeongguk. His eye twitches, a clear warning that he should be walking away, but Jeongguk’s already so high-strung that he retorts without thinking, “You’re remarkably dull for a man of your supposed intellectual capacity. Is that better?”

Namjoon nods. There’s a smug smile on his face. “Much.” 

Deep breaths, Jeongguk coaches himself, trying to get his rising annoyance under control. “Where is he?” he asks as soon as he’s calm enough to talk without growling. 

Namjoon nods to the opposite end of the bar, the one that houses a smattering of high-top tables. “Over there,” Namjoon mutters. Something in his tone changes as he speaks, “He hasn’t spoken to anyone else since you left. He just… sat there all night looking around. It’s creepy, but I figure he’s just skittish from everything that he’s been through.” 

Jeongguk rises to the balls of his feet and follows Namjoon’s gesture. Sure enough, tucked away in one of the many shadows of the bar sits the stranger. He’s hunched over the table with his head in his hands. It looks like he’s just staring blankly at the grain of the wooden surface, examining it closely. 

But Jeongguk is familiar with the hundred-yard stare that comes on the heels of trauma. He’s worn it before, too.

“Thanks. I’ll take it from here,” Jeongguk tells Namjoon. He gets a brief nod in response before making his way through the swarm of dancing people. Truth be told, it’s not that difficult; the crowd around him parts instinctively, making room for the strangely tall man that towers a good foot above all of their heads. 

The second that Jeongguk emerges on the other side of the bar, the stranger’s eyes snap to him like he can sense Jeongguk’s presence. It sends a lick of hesitation running up Jeongguk’s spine, but then the stranger is waving him down. 

“Well, if it isn’t Jeon Jeongguk: mysterious PI-slash-bodyguard who uses all of his pockets,” the man recites lightly. “Whatever that means.” 

Jeongguk ignores the attempt at humor. He stands beside the table, eyeing the stranger with new curiosity. There’s this aura about him that Jeongguk doesn’t need magic to sense-- it’s heavy, and dark around the edges, and unbelievably sad. 

“I’m interested,” Jeongguk starts carefully. “In your offer.” 

Immediately, the man’s face lights up. His eyebrows rise high, eyes blowing wide as he gets up so quickly that his stool goes skittering back a few steps. The sudden burst of movement spikes Jeongguk’s pulse, and Jeongguk is halfway through reaching for one of his guns before remembering where he is. 

You’re safe, he soothes, It’s over. 

Over the noise in Jeongguk’s mind, the stranger practically yelps, “Really? You’ll help me?” 

“I said that I’m interested ,” Jeongguk stresses as his pulse evens out, “I haven’t agreed yet.”

As quick as the smile appeared on the man’s face, it evaporates. “But,” he starts. 

Jeongguk cuts him off mercilessly. “I need some details first. Tell me exactly what I’ll be doing for you.” 

A flicker of annoyance darkens the stranger’s face for a moment as he sits back down. He takes a deep breath and explains, “Well, I’m on the run.”

“From a Demon,” Jeongguk supplies helpfully. 

“Yes.” 

A few tense seconds pass. When it’s abundantly clear that the man has no interest in expanding, Jeongguk rolls his eyes skyward. “Care to elaborate on that?” he drawls. 

“No.”

The irritation building in Jeongguk’s chest is mirrored on the other man’s face. Jeongguk drinks in the stranger’s easy posture-- elbows on the table, fingers laced under his chin, eyes slightly narrowed as he sizes up Jeongguk. 

There’s something about him, Jeongguk thinks absently. 

Out loud, he grits out, “Either you elaborate or I leave you here in this bar again.” 

The stranger has the audacity to snicker. “You came back for me once, sugar,” he taunts, “Something tells me that you’d do it again.” A challenge lights up the man’s eyes as though he’s daring Jeongguk to disagree. It’s almost like he wants a fight. 

Jeongguk fights to keep his voice level. “Just give me something to work with,” he tries again, breathing in slow and long through his nose. 

Reluctantly, the stranger sighs, “Well. I’m from Earane. The-”

“Alchemist Training Planet,” Jeongguk interrupts as he mentally connects the dots, “I’m aware of it.” 

The annoyance clouding the man’s face deepens his scowl. “Great. It’s barren now.”

Jeongguk chokes for a moment. “What? What do you mean, ‘barren’?” 

“Haven’t you read the news or seen the pamphlets?” the man asks incredulously. He looks at Jeongguk like he’s an idiot as he explains, “It’s on every front page! ‘Earane Gone, Students Murdered, Empire in Chaos.’ What- have you been living under a rock recently?”

Embarrassment sinks like a stone in Jeongguk’s stomach. He hasn’t exactly been keeping up with the Galaxy’s news recently. “I’m not working a case right now,” Jeongguk defends feebly, though his voice doesn’t waver, “I’m here to relax. I may have missed a few things in the process.” 

“You came here to get drunk,” the stranger corrects under his breath. Before Jeongguk can retort, the man waves a hand about, eyes narrowing even further. “Should I be worried that, for a Private Eye, you notice surprisingly little?” 

I notice more than enough about you, Jeongguk wants to retort, like the fact that you’re bloodied, but don’t have any injuries. Or the fact that you’re watching me like you’re looking for a weakness. 

But Jeongguk doesn’t say any of this. Instead, he mutters, “Anything else I should know?” 

The stranger shrugs nonchalantly. “I need to seal the Demon away,” he says with an irritated sigh, like performing a sealing ritual is more of an inconvenience than an actual problem, “But that’s not what I need you for. I just need you to help me get off this planet; you need to take me to the next planet in the system that’ll hopefully have a library I can sort through to find a sealing ritual.” 

It’s an easy gig, Jeongguk thinks, A simple drop-off. But there’s the smallest bit of doubt sliding up Jeongguk’s throat. He shifts his weight between his feet, looks down to survey the stranger once more. The man looks back up at him, face carefully blank. 

“...I suppose that I could do that,” Jeongguk concedes after a minute. 

“Great!” the man exclaims again, excitement overtaking his previously calm facade. It catches Jeongguk by surprise, almost sending him stumbling backwards into a couple of dancing Others. 

Jeongguk is aware of the fact that the stranger is still talking, rapid and enthusiastic, but suspicion swirls through Jeongguk’s head. The man is leaving something out, something that Jeongguk can’t quite place. 

And then it clicks. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk cuts the man off for the third time. The stranger looks seriously pissed off for all of two seconds until Jeongguk asks, “How did you escape?” 

Jeongguk watches as the man’s face morphs into a mask of perfect neutrality. “What?” 

“How did you get off Earane? Better yet-- how did you escape a Demon?” Jeongguk presses. He’s never had to bounty-hunt a Demon before, but Jeongguk has heard the stories-- the claws that rip flesh from bone, the black smoke that chokes its victim, the searing yellow eyes that can kill with a look. Survival is more than improbable. It’s almost impossible. Yet here stands this man, claiming to have done just that. 

“It clawed the shit out of me,” the man says immediately. He adjusts in his seat, gestures to the claw marks marring his skin and clothing. “I almost bled out on the planet, but I knew enough self-defense magic to save myself. I also have an anti-possession charm tattooed on my stomach. It’s a precaution that all Alchemists have to take, what with our line of work.”

The words flow smoothly off of the man’s tongue, too easily to be a lie. Still, Jeongguk hesitates. “So you weren’t possessed. But that doesn’t answer how you got off the planet.” 

“I took a ship.” The man looks at Jeongguk defiantly, daring him to disagree.

Jeongguk echoes skeptically, “You took a ship .”

“Yes. One of the emergency pods from the University’s spaceport.” 

“And where is this ship?” Jeongguk presses. He leans closer to the man, scrutinizing his face for a hint of a lie. 

Surprisingly, the man’s face flushes with pink. “I wrecked it,” he mumbles embarrassedly, “I’m not a pilot.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t let himself get distracted by the way the blush makes the stranger that much more handsome; he doesn’t focus on the man’s plump lips as he bites the bottom one nervously. Jeongguk is a professional, after all. 

“You’re not a pilot, but you claim that you got yourself into an escape pod, flew off of the planet, made it into orbit, crossed a solar system, and arrived here before wrecking your craft on reentry?” Jeongguk says, voice low and serious. 

He watches as the man’s eye twitches. “I know it sounds crazy,” the stranger replies quietly, “But adrenaline can help you do some crazy things.” 

Jeongguk isn’t finished yet. He’s got one question burning on the tip of his tongue. “Why’d you stay here?” Jeongguk half-whispers. 

The man locks eyes with him. “Because I had a feeling that you’d come back.” 

The look that passes between them is electric; Jeongguk can feel it travel up his spine, wrap around his throat, press hard against his chest. And even though he’s in the middle of a crowded bar surrounded by hundreds of bodies, Jeongguk’s entire world narrows down to the man sitting in front of him. 

For a split second, everything goes quiet under the force of the stranger’s green-grey gaze. In the silence, instead of the screams and cries and explosions that Jeongguk usually imagines to fill the void, he imagines that he hears something else. 

Help me, Jeongguk thinks he hears. Say yes. 

“So, do we have a deal?” the man asks impatiently, and the moment breaks. 

Jeongguk comes crashing back into himself. He has to will his hands not to shake as he nods, extending one hand for the man to shake. “We have a deal. I take you to the next planet over, and then we’re done. Clear?”

“Crystal.” Smirking, the man shakes Jeongguk’s hand with surprising strength. “Pleasure doing business with you, Jeon Jeongguk.” 

“Likewise…” Jeongguk trails off, raising one eyebrow meaningfully. 

The stranger smiles. It looks more like he’s baring his teeth. And then he’s muttering, low and slow, “It’s Jimin, sugar.”

“Park Jimin.” 

Chapter Text

“... you live here?” 

Jeongguk looks over his shoulder at Jimin as they trudge into the hotel room. Jeongguk hadn’t wanted to take Jimin back to his room, but The Speakeasy didn’t seem to be the right place for discussing the intricacies of demonic possession. There’s also the fact that Namjoon gave Jeongguk the evil eye across the bar, a very clear ‘Get this poor man out of here before I hurt you’ look that sent Jeongguk packing. 

“No,” Jeongguk huffs. He sets down Jimin’s two leather satchels (neither of which Jimin had volunteered to carry) down by the entrance, toeing the door closed with the tip of his boot. “I’m just renting the room until tomorrow night.” 

Jimin stands in the center of the small room. He surveys the small, charcoal couch that sits in front of the wall of windows; Jimin looks at the little kitchenette tucked away in the corner; he hums in disapproval at the lack of crown moulding. Eventually, he summarizes, “Huh.” 

Gods, grant me the strength to deal with this man, Jeongguk prays. If he’d known that Jimin would be this irritating, he never would’ve gone back to the bar in the first place. “I’m sorry, but if you don’t like the suite, you can go rent your own,” Jeongguk retorts. 

Jimin completely ignores the barbed comment. Instead, he nods towards the bed. The little silver-strand earrings hanging delicately from his earlobes clink against his neck as he drawls, “How do you fit in that?” 

“I don’t.” Jeongguk stomps past Jimin and over towards the bed. There’s this restless energy building in his bones; it’s probably the result of having someone share a room with him for the first time in two years. In a poor attempt to hide his escalating nerves, Jeongguk plasters a frown across his face and smooths out his bedspread. 

“You didn’t want to get a bigger one?” Jimin presses, his eyes tracing Jeongguk’s movements like some kind of predator. 

The attention makes Jeongguk’s skin crawl, but he valiantly tries to ignore it. “I have yet to encounter a bed that I can comfortably lie down in,” he mutters under his breath. It’s true-- though Jeongguk’s been to more planets than most, he still has the unfortunate ability to be the tallest being in every single room that he walks into. It’s like he’s cursed with consistently making everyone around him uncomfortable with his sheer presence alone. 

Jimin, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the fact that Jeongguk is slowly spiraling into an abyss of self-pity. “You’re not the tallest being in the universe. There has to be a bed out there long enough for you,” he sniffs daintily, “You’re just not looking hard enough.” 

For several heartbeats, Jeongguk actually debates the pros and cons of tossing Jimin out of the tall windows. Instead, he grits out between clenched teeth, “Well, I’ve looked plenty hard for one on this planet, and I haven’t come across one yet.” 

Jimin nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. “Okay,” he hums. 

Mistaking the way Jimin turns to get his bags as a signal that the conversation is over, Jeongguk stands to head to the bathroom. He feels icky, like he needs the shower of a lifetime after going back into the Underground and the bar. But before he’s managed to move more than a few inches, Jimin calls, “Seems like you left in a hurry earlier.” 

Pausing, Jeongguk looks at the state of disarray that his hotel room is in. There are bullet cartridges strewn across the coffee table, an upended duffle bag thrown halfway across the room, and various pieces of all-black clothing tossed about.

Jeongguk fights against the embarrassed flush that tries to rise to his cheeks. He clears his throat awkwardly. “I- uh. Yeah.” 

“You were that eager to see me again, huh?” Jimin teases. He rounds the corner of the half-wall that separates the bedroom from the living room and sets his bags down with a heavy ‘thump!’ onto the carpeted floor. There’s a smirk blossoming on his face that Jeongguk sort of wants to smack away. 

But he doesn’t. Not this time, at least. 

“Stop feeling so smug,” Jeongguk hisses. He crosses his arms like the defensive, petulant teenager that he’s currently trying to emulate. “I would’ve come back for anyone.” It’s a lie, but Jimin doesn’t need to know that. 

Jimin just shrugs, completely unbothered. “Still. I like being worried about,” he coos cheekily. And then, before Jeongguk has a chance to turn bright fuchsia or throw Jimin out of his room or do any of the hundred-or-so other things that race through his head when Jimin teases him, Jimin tuts, “So, where do I sleep?” 

Irritation bubbles underneath Jeongguk’s skin. I just want to rest, he thinks sadly, already aware of the way the moons are slowly starting to set. 

“Use your deductive reasoning skills,” he harrumphs moodily, “Where do you think you’ll sleep?” 

Jimin glowers. It feels irrationally good, because this is the first time Jeongguk has seen Jimin look genuinely put-out. “You don’t have to be such an ass about it,” Jimin whines. “I’ll just take the couch, I suppose.”

“Good plan.” 

It takes exactly two seconds for Jimin to clear his throat meaningfully, stopping Jeongguk in his tracks again as he tries to enter the restroom. Jeongguk stops in the doorway-- he clenches his fingers around the doorframe, inhales deeply, and asks, “ Yes, Jimin?”

“Aren’t you supposed to offer me your bed?” 

Jeongguk turns around and just looks at him for a moment. “Do I look like the kind of person who’d do that?” 

“Well, considering your shit manners and stormy disposition, I guess not,” Jimin grouses, looking Jeongguk up and down judgmentally. 

A scoff rises up Jeongguk’s throat. “Your manners aren’t much better. You’re dripping blood on the carpet.” 

“I am the pinnacle of perfection. Shut your mouth.” Despite his words, Jimin surreptitiously tries to move his boot to cover up the little bit of crimson that stains the rug. 

Jeongguk catches the motion. But his blood pressure is probably dangerously high just from being in the same room as this man, so he ignores it. “Whatever,” Jeongguk brushes off with a half-shrug. 

He manages to get one foot inside the bathroom door, and then Jimin is calling, “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow? Or later today, I suppose?” 

Whatever thin hold Jeongguk had on his self-restraint snaps. He whirls on his ankle, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. “Gods, do you ever stop talking?” he seethes. “Has anyone ever told you that talking to you is like getting fucking interrogated?” 

The urge to tear his own hair out strikes Jeongguk like a sledgehammer. Deep breaths, he coaches, You’ve been through war. You can handle one man. Jeongguk focuses on trying to slow the anger rising in his chest. 

Despite the sudden outburst, Jimin doesn’t so much as blink in surprise. He cocks his head to the side, furrows his brows, and fires back calmly, “Yeah, well, has anyone ever told you that you suck at making small talk?” 

“No one’s ever had the balls before,” Jeongguk hisses as he draws himself to his full height like that’ll somehow intimidate the man before him. “Plus, it’s not really in my job description to be good at making conversation.” 

Jimin puts his hands on his hips, not the least bit cowed by Jeongguk’s stature. “You mean as a PI, a job that typically requires a degree of charisma, you’ve managed to somehow skate by on your good looks and glowering demeanor?” 

There are about fifty great comebacks on the tip of Jeongguk’s tongue, but what actually comes out of his mouth is, “Good looks, huh?” He wants to slam his head into the wall a minute later for accidentally flirting with one of his clients. 

“Oh, please,” Jimin laughs, high and light, “You know that you’re pretty. Don’t pretend to be unaware-- it’s disgusting.” 

With a hearty roll of his eyes, Jeongguk groans, “Oh, gods, can you please just let me use my own restroom?” 

Something like mischief glints in Jimin’s eyes. “Depends,” he sing-songs, making a show out examining his nails under the thin light of the hotel room’s single lamp. 

“On?” 

“Whether you finally tell me the plan for tomorrow.”

It strikes Jeongguk just then that Jimin is like no one he’s ever met before, and not necessarily in a good way. Jeongguk prides himself on being able to read people-- it’s his job, after all-- but Jimin… Jimin is an enigma. He’s got a strange mixture of confidence and reticence that Jeongguk has a hard time pinning down. 

It sets Jeongguk’s teeth on edge. He likes knowing where he stands with people; Jeongguk needs to know how other people see him so that he can sufficiently prepare them for the moment that he inevitably disappoints them. 

So he stands there, scrutinizing Jimin for probably the fifth time since meeting him in the bar. Jimin, to his credit, doesn’t seem to mind the attention in the slightest. In fact, he looks like he’s practically thriving off of being in the spotlight. 

Focus, Jeongguk scolds himself internally, You don’t have to figure him out. You just have to transport him. 

With a resolute nod, Jeongguk brings himself back into the moment. He gestures about vaguely, says, “Well, the plan is to find a ship that I can use to get us off the planet. Maybe get some supplies for the road before we-”

“Wait,” Jimin cuts him off. His eyes widen almost comically as he gapes, “You don’t have a ship? ”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. “No?” 

With an incredulous tilt of his head, Jimin splutters, “So you- you just offered to take me off the planet on a ship that you don’t currently possess? Isn’t that irresponsible?” 

If Jeongguk currently had the capacity to feel anything other than partially irritated and entirely exhausted, he’d be offended. But because he doesn’t, and because his brain-to-mouth filter is astonishingly low right now, he retorts, “Isn’t it irresponsible to not make sure that I had a ship before hiring me in the first place?” 

A single beat of silence passes, and then Jimin breathes, “Wow. So this is what visceral hatred feels like.” 

“Oh, please,” Jeongguk sighs, “It’s not like I’m not capable of getting us a ride. I know how to hire a transport vessel. This is my job for gods’ sakes.” 

Jimin looks skeptical, but remains quiet. In the blessed silence, Jeongguk practically pleads, “Now, do you have any other incredibly pressing questions, or am I allowed to go and take a shower now?” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the bathroom for emphasis. 

“Yes,” Jimin replies instantly.

I’m going to kill him, Jeongguk decides in a second. “Fucking what?” 

Jimin’s eyes shine in that way that signals impending trouble. “How tall are you, bodyguard?” 

“Two hundred and five centimeters,” Jeongguk practically spits. He whirls on his heel, marches to the bathroom, and calls over his shoulder just before slamming the door, “And I’m not your bodyguard!” 

The door slams closed, but Jeongguk can still hear the sound of Jimin’s cackling laughter from behind the thin wooden paneling. Jeongguk holds his breath and counts to ten, just like he learned in his time in the Tactical Force. 

He can still hear his commander’s voice in his head-- ‘Mistakes happen when you’re distracted, Jeon. Don’t let them distract you.’

Don’t let him distract you, Jeongguk echoes in his own head, because Jimin- Jimin is the epitome of distracting. And it’s not just his looks, or his demeanor, or the quick-witted mouth that he has on him. It’s his very fucking aura , and as much as Jeongguk would like to pretend that he’s cool, calm, and unaffected by the man in the other room, pretending is useless. 

“Don’t let him get to you,” Jeongguk lectures his reflection sternly, “You’re with him for one day. Don’t talk to him, don’t get close, and do not pay him any more attention.” Even Jeongguk’s own reflection looks like it wants to laugh at his big promises. 

Jeongguk glares at himself. “I mean it,” he growls out, and then steps into the shower to wash the strange feeling that sticks to his skin away under the hotel’s sub-par water pressure.

  It doesn’t exactly do the trick, but it does help Jeongguk calm down considerably. The water sluices over his muscles, relaxing him in a way that he knows he needs if he’s going to survive the next twenty-four hours. 

In fact, Jeongguk is so relaxed that, by the time he reenters the hotel room, he doesn’t even care that he’s clad only in one towel slung around his waist. He’s almost managed to forget about the fact that Jimin is even here until Jeongguk rounds the corner and sees the fucking hurricane Jimin’s left in his wake. 

Blinking, Jeongguk surveys what used to be his hotel room. It was a little bit messy before, but it wasn’t like this -- now, there are old-looking books crammed onto the coffee table; there are greying maps on every surface within reach; and Jeongguk thinks he spots a small vial of what looks like dragon’s blood thrown carelessly on the ground. 

“Wow,” Jeongguk can’t quite keep the shock out of his voice, “You move fast.” 

Jimin’s head peeks up from where he’s almost completely hidden behind the writing desk in the corner. “One of my many skills,” he grins, saccharinely sweet. Jimin selects one of the maps from the pile on the coffee table and sits himself down on the desk’s chair, directly under the only lamp in the room. It’s with a little bit of wounded pride that Jeongguk realizes that Jimin didn’t even spare his wet, mostly-naked body a single glance. 

Why do you even care? Jeongguk hisses at himself. 

Jeongguk clears his throat meaningfully as he moves to grab a pair of boxers off of the foot of the bed. “You brought all of those things from Earane?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Jimin nods.

 Jimin is so engrossed in reading the map spread out before him, presumably charting out a course or doing something equally as pretentious, that Jeongguk figures fuck it and drops his towel altogether. 

Jimin doesn’t bat an eye. 

And yeah, now Jeongguk’s offended. He’s not exactly vain, but a little embarrassment or blush would be appreciated. Anything but Jimin’s stoicism. 

Just like that, all the annoyance that Jeongguk washed away in the shower comes searing back to life. “So, in between summoning a Demon and hijacking an escape pod, you had time to pack?” Jeongguk challenges as he tugs on his boxers. 

For some reason, the words catch Jimin’s attention. His head whips up lightning fast, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Jeongguk. “No,” Jimin explains slowly, “The pods are equipped with equipment like this. Hence: I have two atlases, seven maps of the Galaxy, and nutrient bars, but no change of clothes.” 

Liar, something in the back of Jeongguk’s mind whispers. Years of experience don’t exactly leave Jeongguk without a great sense of intuition, but he doesn’t push. Not yet. 

“I see,” he mutters, walking to the bed. 

Jimin’s pointed look stops him. “Well?” Jimin prompts expectantly. 

“Well, what?” 

“Aren’t you going to offer me some clothes of your own?” 

Jeongguk can’t hold back the shocked laugh that bubbles out of his throat at Jimin’s sheer audacity. “Why would I do that?” 

“Mine are bloody,” Jimin says. He looks physically affronted by Jeongguk’s ignorance. 

Jeongguk shrugs. “Mine are too big for you.”

“So?”

“So,” Jeongguk snorts, “What’s the point? Just wait until we go shopping tomorrow.”

Jimin’s face twists into a scowl. “You really are an asshole. Don’t you want to see me drowning in the fabric of your clothes?” 

“Did you lift that line from a romance novel?” Jeongguk teases, just a little malicious. The blush that rises high on Jimin’s cheekbones tells Jeongguk that, yes , he did plagiarize that from some shoddily-written love story. “And no,” Jeongguk smiles sweetly, “I don’t. But you seem to think pretty highly of yourself, huh?” 

Jimin recovers remarkably fast. He turns up his nose, sniffs, “Maybe I know that I’m pretty, too.” 

There’s no response that Jeongguk can think of that won’t either stoke Jimin’s ego or prolong this already-painful exchange, so Jeongguk chooses to tastefully ignore Jimin. Instead, he crosses the room in two strides (thank you, freakishly-long legs) and reaches out to tug the lamp off.

Faster than he can process, Jimin’s hand shoots out. He grabs Jeongguk around the wrist. Jimin’s grip is so tight that Jeongguk jolts, fighting against the instinct that tells him to break away. 

“Wait,” Jimin whispers so low that Jeongguk almost doesn’t hear him. 

And then Jeongguk looks down at Jimin, mere inches away. There’s fear in his amber-green eyes. It’s nothing like Jeongguk has seen before, and he’s seen the scars of war that linger behind his fellow soldiers’ eyes. But he hasn’t ever noticed this kind of primordial terror before. It sends a lick of suspicion down his spine. 

“What?” Jeongguk asks, voice equally as quiet. 

Jimin licks his lips nervously. “Don’t… don’t turn the light off, please.” 

“Are you scared of the dark, sweetheart?” Jeongguk teases instinctively. 

It’s the wrong choice. Jimin’s expression shutters closed, repressing whatever bit of vulnerability he’d let out for a heartbeat. “I-It’s complicated,” he murmurs under his breath, but he sounds genuinely afraid, “Just, please leave it on?” 

Jeongguk blinks, and then he concedes, “Fine.” 

Jimin just nods gratefully as he releases his hold on Jeongguk, turning his attention back to the map spread out before him. “Thank you,” he says, voice much smaller than earlier. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

Unease settles in Jeongguk’s ribcage like a stone. “Sure, yeah. Goodnight.” 

And though Jeongguk retreats to the too-small bed in the opposite corner of the room, and although Jimin is adamantly focused on his map, Jeongguk practically feels like he’s suffocating under the weight of Jimin’s presence. 

Lying on the bed, just before he falls asleep, Jeongguk watches Jimin’s silhouette carefully. Bathed in the lavender of the moonlight, Jimin worries his bottom lip.

There’s a sadness to him, Jeongguk understands blearily. A darkness. 

And Jeon Jeongguk, the best PI on this side of the Galaxy, reaches for one of his knives on the nightstand. He grips it close under the covers, presses it to his chest to feel the comfort of its weight. 

Just in case, Jeongguk tells himself as he closes his eyes. 

Just in case. 

🌔

Jeongguk’s never really considered just how truly depressing bars are once the sun comes up. But as he enters The Speakeasy, it becomes incredibly apparent that this space fulfills a specific purpose (read: getting wasted) for a specific clientele (read: drunkards) at a very specific time.

It almost makes Jeongguk uncomfortable. Seeing the bar like this-- chairs balanced upside-down on top of the clean tables, floor freshly waxed, jazz band packing up in the corner-- feels something like watching an Earthside tiger walk on its hind legs. 

“The bar?” Jimin groans, breaking Jeongguk out of his disgruntled shock as they exit the elevator together. “Again?” 

Jeongguk shrugs. “I come here a lot,” he explains tersely. He’s not exactly in the mood to put up with Jimin’s incessant yammering, especially since he’d been kept up for the better part of last night by Jimin’s muttered curses and his need to have the light on at all times.

If there aren’t purple bags bruising the underside of his eyes, Jeongguk would be surprised. 

“It’s seven in the morning,” Jimin says, like pointing out the obvious will help their situation. 

“Like I said. I come here a lot.”

“I’m officially worried about you, bodyguard,” Jimin breathes with exaggerated concern dripping from his tongue. He puts the back of one hand against his forehead like he’s about to faint and loops the other through Jeongguk’s arm. 

Immediately, Jeongguk shrugs him off. He tries not to focus on the little burst of adrenaline that’d sprung into his system at the contact and huffs, “Oh, shut up . This is the best place to go if you’re looking to hire, well, anyone . But I’m sure you gathered that already, given that you found me here.” 

“Yeah, lucky me,” Jimin complains under his breath. He trails along after Jeongguk as they walk through the barren room. Jeongguk catches Jimin surveying the jazz band out of the corner of his eye. It’s a three-piece ensemble tonight-- one Android, one Human, and one Ghoulish-looking individual. “So, who’re we looking for, exactly?” Jimin asks after a moment’s hesitation. 

Jeongguk hums, genuinely considering. “Someone with a ship,” he answers honestly, “And that’s pretty much the only criteria.” 

Something that sounds startlingly like a chicken’s squawk comes out of Jimin’s mouth. All at once, Jimin rushes ahead of Jeongguk, turns on his heel, and stops Jeongguk with a hand to his chest. Jimin looks surprisingly intimidating, given that he barely comes up to Jeongguk’s shoulder and is wearing the equivalent of bloodied rags. 

“That’s the only criteria?” Jimin parrots in disbelief, “Shouldn’t there also be a requirement that they’re not, like, murderers? Or perverts?”

Honestly, Jimin’s naivety is a little endearing, considering that they’re currently standing in the equivalent of an intergalactic dive bar at seven in the morning. Jeongguk schools his features into cool neutrality before a smile can perk up the corners of his lips. 

“Your bar is way too high, sweetheart,” Jeongguk practically coos. 

Jimin reddens. “I refuse to believe that asking for a pilot who won’t kill us in our sleep is a ‘high bar’. Why can’t we just rent a ship and have you pilot? I’d feel better about that than trusting some random stranger in a bar.”

“I was a random stranger in a bar,” Jeongguk retorts instantly. It’s definitely not the most ‘adult’ reaction, and it’s not exactly maintaining his distance from Jimin either, but the shade of red that Jimin turns makes it all worthwhile. 

Over the sound of Jimin’s embarrassed sputtering, Jeongguk shrugs, “And besides, I’m not really a pilot.” 

Jimin’s eyes narrow. “Your dog tags say otherwise,” he accuses as one of his hands rises to poke at the golden metal. 

“I was a gunner, not a fighter pilot,” Jeongguk corrects, “I had a partner who flew the craft. And she-” Jeongguk has to break off for a moment to choke back all the memories that threaten to claw their way out of his mouth. He clears his throat, finishes, “She was the best.” 

There’s a heartbeat of silence, and then Jimin prompts quietly, “...was?” 

Don’t let him distract you, the perpetually on-guard portion of Jeongguk’s brain whispers to him. The thought yanks Jeongguk back into the present, away from the starry battlefields where he’d lost so much. 

“Let’s go,” Jeongguk redirects smoothly. “Namjoon should have an idea of who we could ask.”

Without waiting for a reply, Jeongguk brushes past Jimin and stalks towards the bar. Soft footfalls come behind him and let him know that Jimin is following him across the floor, through the maze of high-top tables, and over to the recently-cleaned bartop. 

Behind it stands Namjoon, dressed in a maroon three-piece suit that Jeongguk has never seen before. Jeongguk has the sudden, sinking feeling that these are Namjoon’s street clothes, and that the annoying barkeep might really have a better sense of fashion than him. 

“Back again?” Namjoon calls cheerily as they approach, “Three times in forty-eight hours is a new record for you.”

A little lick of shame worms its way up Jeongguk’s spine at the implication behind Namjoon’s words, but Jeongguk forces out, “It’s for business this time. I’m looking for someone with a ship that can jump us to the next planet.” 

Namjoon pauses. He looks between Jimin and Jeongguk knowingly, like he’s putting the pieces of a puzzle together. Namjoon takes in Jimin’s nervous fidgeting, Jeongguk’s abrasive-as-usual demeanor, and says noncommittally, “I might know a guy.” 

He piques up an eyebrow. The message is clear. 

Jeongguk sighs. “How much?”

“Wait, you want us to pay you for a recommendation? ” Jimin interrupts with a surprised laugh. “This is extortion!” 

It’s a struggle for Jeongguk to resist the urge to cringe at Jimin’s ignorance. Namjoon, however, is not so committed to neutrality. He rolls his eyes. “This is how business is conducted on Xeada,” Namjoon explains slowly, gesturing around to the planet they’re all currently inhabiting, “So either you cough up some kind of payment, or you’re not getting my information. No free rides. I’m sorry.” 

Jimin looks like he’s about to do the impossible and make himself explode with rage, but Jeongguk steps in without missing a beat. He fishes around in one of the pockets lining his left leg and pulls out a single, somewhat-tarnished silver coin. 

Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat before Jeongguk even says, “Here. It’s an old-empire silver piece. Rare circulation.”

“Where have you been hiding this?” Namjoon breathes in awe. His eyes widen as he takes in the polished visage of Kim Jiwoo, the first empress of the Earthside Quadrant. 

Jeongguk knows the value of this coin. Currency isn’t in circulation anymore, so finding any coin anymore is rare, but one inscribed with the likeness of the Warrior Queen (the very woman who mobilized intergalactic travel, claimed the Milky Way as her own, and subsequently started the Unification Era) is priceless. Especially to a brainiac like Namjoon. 

Still, Jeongguk twirls the coin between his knuckles nonchalantly. “Oh, this? Just something I picked up near Io on my combat tour through the Milky Way.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Namjoon gapes. His fingers twitch with want. 

Jimin leans against the bartop eagerly. “Is it enough for information, or do you also want a pint of blood and the name of my firstborn child?” 

“Try the drummer,” Namjoon advises without taking his eyes off of the coin, “I hear that he’s a recording artist, but he’s got a hell of a unique battleship on him, so I’d tread lightly. People like him aren’t exactly forthright about their… real occupations.” 

“Thanks, Joonie,” Jeongguk smirks. He flicks the coin into the air with a swipe of his thumb.

Namjoon cups his hands to catch it before it can skitter along the bartop. He stares down at it and dismisses Jeongguk with a wave of his hand. Under his breath, he starts mumbling, “With a little vinegar and baking soda, you’ll be as good as new. I wonder if-”

“...is he going to be okay?” Jimin whispers behind his hand to Jeongguk, eyes locked concernedly on Namjoon. 

“He’s fine. Just having the equivalent of a scholarly orgasm,” Jeongguk says in reply. He’s already pivoting on his heel to march over to the drummer across the room. 

Jimin scampers after him. He has to practically run to keep pace with Jeongguk, but that doesn’t seem to damper his spirits. Instead, Jimin bounds ahead enthusiastically and taps the white-haired drummer on the shoulder intently. 

“Excuse me?” Jimin tries, and Jeongguk has to keep himself from groaning in annoyance. 

This fucking man, Jeongguk seethes internally, because Jimin seems to have no idea how the worlds work outside of his own, cloistered-away training planet. He still seems to think that manners are worth something. 

The drummer turns. He’s short, shorter than Jimin, and looks shockingly young for someone with hair as pale as paper. His eyes are a stormy-bloodred, and the scar that runs down the left side of his jaw adds to the general ‘ fuck off’ attitude that the man wears just as well as his black tuxedo. 

“What?” the drummer snaps. He twirls the jet-black drumsticks in his right hand, somehow managing to make the simple bit of flair look threatening. 

Jimin isn’t deterred by the drummer’s bad attitude. “We’d like to hire you,” he declares. 

“I’m not available right now,” the drummer grouses, “I just finished a four set all-nighter. My blisters have blisters. Find another musician.”

Jeongguk steps in before Jimin can do any more damage. “How much for your ship?”

“My ship?” the drummer echoes. He waves his fellow bandmates away as they start to approach, suddenly invested in the conversation. 

“Word on the street is that you’ve got a battleship that can take us to the next planet,” Jeongguk mutters, voice low and private, “Preferably without being tracked?” 

An appraising silence follows, but the man relaxes somewhat. He darts his eyes up and down Jeongguk and flicks them over to Jimin to do the same. “I might. But why the need for secrecy? Just catch the next shuttle out of here.” 

Jeongguk shakes his head. “My client is being tracked. We need discretion.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say. The drummer shakes his head resolutely. “No,” he denies firmly, “I don’t get mixed up in these kinds of things, and I’m sure as hell not looking to get my head chopped off by one of the gangs from the Outer Reaches just because your client’s got a price on his head.” 

“I’m not running from a gang,” Jimin scoffs, clearly offended at the supposition. 

The drummer crosses his arms defensively. Jeongguk catches the way he lowers his center of gravity like he’s readying for a fight. Whoever this man is, he’s seen trouble before. Jeongguk shifts his own posture, just as subtle, to angle himself ever so slightly in between Jimin and the stranger. 

“Look, if you think that I’m going to transport the two of you-- who, for all I know, are wanted criminals or something-- without any specifics, you’re out of your fucking mind,” the drummer says acidly. 

Jeongguk does a quick analysis of the situation. The man is interested, at least a little-- he has to be, otherwise he’d have already left. There’s something keeping him interested in this conversation; the little glint of curiosity that shines in his eyes tells Jeongguk to keep pushing. 

So Jeongguk adds, “He’s running from a Demon.” 

Right on cue, the drummer’s eyes widen slightly. “Huh,” he mutters, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he tries and fails to keep the flicker of interest off of his brow. 

“Does that change anything?” Jimin asks hopefully. He bobs forward and backwards on the balls of his feet anxiously, clearly unaccustomed to having to wait. 

“Depends,” the drummer thinks aloud, “What kind of Demon are we talking about? Succubus? Incubus? Yokai? A prince?” 

Jimin hesitates. He shakes his head nervously. “I- I don’t know,” Jimin admits with a grimace. 

The stranger tries a different angle. “Well, what are its tracking abilities? Has it found you before? Does it have a blood trail? Did you make a bargain?” 

“I don’t know,” Jimin repeats quietly, shrinking into himself. 

Jeongguk watches out of the corner of his eye as Jimin turns into a different person. He seems to get smaller and smaller under the intensity of the drummer’s glare. 

“What do you know?” the drummer asks in exasperation. 

And then, all at once, Jimin snaps back like a rubber band. He draws himself up to his full height and grits his teeth to half-shout in the quiet of the bar, “I know that I want to survive! I know that I messed up one fucking summoning ritual and now I’m here, running for my fucking life, having to beg strangers in a literal hellhole of a bar for help when I would rather stab my eyes out.” 

Watch, a voice in Jeongguk’s head whispers, Listen. Pay attention to him . And Jeongguk does-- he takes stock of Jimin’s yo-yoing behavior like the professional PI that he is. In the back of Jeongguk’s mind, gears start turning. There’s something else here. Something he can’t quite-

“Mind your tone, you brat,” the drummer warns lowly, “I’m not putting myself in a Demon’s line of sight just because you’re incapable of correctly summoning anything.” 

Correctly summoning. The phrase bounces around in Jeongguk’s head, and then it clicks. 

Before Jimin can open his mouth and shout loud enough to bring the cave crashing in on their heads, Jeongguk interjects, “You. Drummer-boy. How long have you been an Alchemist?” 

For the first time, the drummer looks alarmed. His eyes dart away from Jimin to focus on Jeongguk. “How did you-”

“You know too much. You ask all the right questions. Who, from the looks of it,” Jeongguk ticks off, surveying the drummer’s tattoo-free skin and plain suit, “is not affiliated with any research institution. Which makes you an underground Alchemist that’s practicing without the accreditation of a valid four-year Alchemic university. Which means that you’re practicing magic illegally.” 

All the blood drains from the man’s face. At the tips of his fingers, the beginnings of green sparks flicker to life. “Listen here, you-”

But Jeongguk is tired, run into the ground by Jimin’s constant questions and the amount of attitude housed in such a small body, and he’s had more than his fill of wise-cracking strangers for one lifetime. So he steps forward meaningfully, puts a hand on one of his golden guns, and growls, “No, you listen. Either you take us to the next planet, or I go call the Galactic Guild and report that I’ve found a dangerous magic-user who’s not only unregistered, but who actively assaulted me and my client.” 

“I didn’t assault-”

The stranger’s denial is broken by the sound of Jimin’s pained grunt as Jeongguk whirls on his heel and socks Jimin in the arm hard enough to leave one hell of a bruise. 

“Who assaulted me and my client in a bar,” Jeongguk finishes, talking over the sound of Jimin’s overly-dramatic whimper. 

“Gods above, who the fuck are you?!” the drummer seethes, fists clenched at his sides, “His fucking pimp or something?” 

Jeongguk takes one more step forward to really tower over the man in front of him. “I’m Jeon Jeongguk. This is Park Jimin. And you’re the man who in five seconds is going to say, ‘Alright, we have a deal.’ Is that clear?” 

The drummer looks up at him with a glare so strong that it practically cuts. And Jeongguk hates this side of himself, he really does. It’s the side that the world expects from him, the part of himself that he thought he’d left behind on the battlegrounds of his past, the little bit of hideousness that seeps out whenever Jeongguk isn’t careful. 

He hates it just as much as he hates himself, but damn if it doesn’t work, because in the next heartbeat, the stranger grits out, “Alright. We have a fucking deal. Min Yoongi, at your service.” 

“See, was that so hard?” Jimin sighs dramatically from Jeongguk’s side. 

The stranger (Yoongi, apparently) points at Jimin. “But if that guy talks to me even one more time, I’m throwing him out of the front of the ship faster than you can blink.” 

“ Hey!” Jimin protests, but Jeongguk just sticks out his hand. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Jeongguk nods, and then adds, “I give you free reign to toss him overboard at any given moment.” 

Jimin shrieks in indignation. Yoongi cracks the barest hint of a smile. 

Jeongguk shakes Yoongi’s hand and wonders how the fuck he’s going to survive the next twenty-four hours with these people. 

🌓

Yeah

No, 

The pods are equipped with equipment like this

Hence: I have two atlases, seven maps of the galaxy, 

And nutrient bars, 

But no change of clothes 

You don’t know where you were born?

But h-

Shit.

Fine.

Consider it dropped.

🌒

The underground markets are already crowded by the time that Jeongguk leads Jimin through the maze of bright stalls. He keeps Jimin in front of him as they move through the jostling crowd for added security. Jeongguk tells himself that it’s because he’s just fulfilling his obligation as a sort-of bodyguard and not because he’s worried about Jimin’s wellbeing in any way.

Because he’s not worried. He isn’t. 

But it’s a little bit hard to not feel wary every time someone from the crowd stares at Jimin for just a bit too long. Jeongguk doesn’t exactly blame them-- Jimin is objectively handsome, and with the flowing white top and high-cut, mossy green riding pants that Jimin purchased earlier, he’s practically a vision. 

Jeongguk isn’t so easily distracted, however. He tries to focus on the buzz of the market around them and safely navigates the pair of them through the stalls full of multicolored spices, the booths boasting handcrafted fans and headdresses, and the kiosks stocked full of decorative cloth. It’s difficult, because Jeongguk has to stoop to avoid banging his head on the paper lanterns that swish above, but he manages.

Barely. 

He’s exhausted from staying up practically all night and having to deal with Jimin all morning. There’s a faint hum in his head in lieu of any thoughts, and the steady drone of it lulls Jeongguk into a strange state of half-attention and half-‘dead man walking’. 

“What do you think?” 

Jeongguk blinks as he looks down at Jimin. They stand in front of a stall swathed floor-to-ceiling in black drapes and beaded curtains that’s chock full of weapons from across the Galaxy. It’s startling, because Jeongguk didn’t even realize that they’d stopped moving. 

Jimin stands there expectantly, clearly waiting for a response. There’s a massive blaster in his hands-- one of the Soldier-issued, multiple barrel, renewable-energy-fueled behemoths that makes Jimin look even smaller than it is. 

“Seems excessive,” Jeongguk hums. “Do you even know how to use that thing?” 

“I might,” Jimin scoffs. He looks offended, though the way his hands maneuver clumsily over the buttons and latches of the blaster tell Jeongguk that Jimin has no idea what he’s doing. 

Jeongguk just watches as Jimin accidentally brushes against the release switch for the blaster’s clip. The clip clatters to the ground loudly. The small energy-charge pellets spill out onto the ground and are immediately crushed underneath the soles of passersby. 

Jimin squeaks in embarrassment. He flushes deeply, pouts, “...okay. So maybe I don’t know how to use this particular blaster, but I have used guns in the past.” 

“Mhm, it definitely seems that you spent all of your time at university shooting blasters and wallowing in loneliness,” Jeongguk drawls skeptically. He bends to pick up the now-empty clip before it gets crushed and sends the shopkeeper an apologetic look. “Give me that,” Jeongguk huffs as Jimin continues to press buttons all along the blaster’s surface. 

He plucks the gun out of Jimin’s hands easily and is pleased to note how well it fits in his hands. It’s been a while since Jeongguk has last used one of these models, but the feeling of the cool metal and bulky exterior is nostalgic. It takes him back to his days in the Tactical Force’s training camps, when all he ever had to shoot were plastic targets. 

“Who says that I was on my own?” Jimin seethes. His displeasure at being mocked manifests in the annoyed pout that tugs on his lips. “I’ve got friends, you know. Or, uh. I had friends.” 

Jeongguk catches the slip-up. And though he’d really like to not empathize with Jimin at all, something in his chest pangs in recognition. 

You’ve been through it too, then, Jeongguk almost says, You’ve lost people, too. 

“Ouch,” is what he says instead as he places the blaster back in its display case, “That sucks.” The shopkeeper opens his mouth like he’s going to ask Jeongguk for compensation, but looks Jeongguk up and down (taking in his height, the guns on his thighs, the dog tags) and seems to think better of it. 

Jimin misses the nonverbal conversation playing out between Jeongguk and the hesitant stall owner. “You’re telling me,” he complains, kicking at one of the small purple geodes that litter the floor, “It sucks when you accidentally fuck over the planet all your friends live on.” 

For a moment, there’s this faraway look in Jimin’s eyes. It’s the same hundred-yard-stare that Jeongguk noticed hiding behind Jimin’s confident exterior yesterday night in The Speakeasy, the one that prompted him to approach Jimin again in the first place. 

But just as quickly as it appears, the look vanishes. 

Jimin clears his throat and pastes on a smile. “So, what else do we need?” he asks with forced cheer. 

No sympathy, Jeongguk has to remind himself. Don’t get close. 

“We’ve got rations and first aid equipment, and you’ve got clothing, so I think we’re finished,” Jeongguk lists, jostling the pack strapped to his back. He hadn’t exactly offered to carry it, but when he’d held out the bag for Jimin to take, Jimin looked blankly at Jeongguk for two minutes straight. Jeongguk gave in. He carries the bags on his back and makes a mental note to massively overcharge Jimin once this is all over. 

Jimin tuts as he heads back into the mess of people lining the alleyways between the stalls. “Really? What about bullets?” 

Jeongguk lets out a puff of laughter. “Are you anticipating having to shoot anybody between here and the next planet?” he teases. 

Jimin shoots a glance at Jeongguk over his shoulder. “Are you?” Jimin volleys back, “You’re the one with guns; are you sure that you have enough ammunition in case we run into trouble?”

Trouble? Jeongguk’s mind hisses. He pushes the suspicion away. 

“I have enough. I haven’t used these in a while, actually,” Jeongguk admits, and then wants to kick himself for revealing something voluntarily. Jimin has the uncanny knack for managing to turn Jeongguk into an actual Human Being. It’s irritating. 

“No?” Jimin pushes, jumping on the information, “Why not?” 

A drop of discomfort rushes through Jeongguk’s bloodstream. “It’s personal preference. I’d rather avoid killing people if given the choice.” Naively, he hopes that’s the end of it. 

It’s not. 

“I thought that you were in the Tactical Force,” Jimin calls over his shoulder. 

Jeongguk sidesteps a crying Vampire youngling who tugs at the hem of her father’s cloak and admits brusquely, “I was.”

“And…?” 

“And what? I was in the Tactical unit, and I was good at my job, but that doesn’t mean that I enjoyed any of it. It’s complicated, and-” Jeongguk finds himself offering. He catches himself, bites his tongue before he gives up any more of himself to a literal stranger. “Nevermind. And, wait, how did you even know that I was-”

Jimin’s shoulders rise and fall noncommittally. He doesn’t turn around as he explains loud enough to be heard over the din of the marketplace, “You carry yourself like someone who’s seen combat before-- straight back, awful smile, etcetera. You’re also way too serious to be anything other than an ex-Soldier.” 

The hairs on the back of Jeongguk’s neck rise. Jimin is more observant than he thought, and it sets Jeongguk’s teeth on edge. But beyond that, there’s a sharp kind of quiet fury that drips from Jimin’s tone. 

Jeongguk watches Jimin’s back carefully as he leads them back towards the market’s entrance. “Disdain, much?” he prompts.

Sure enough, the slightest bit of tension tightens Jimin’s posture. “I’m from one of the conquered systems,” Jimin says, voice clipped and terse. 

Ah. 

There it is again. Sympathy. 

And though Jeongguk tries to shake it away, his mouth is already apologizing. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright,” Jimin waves him away without turning around, “Not really your fault, you know? My planet fell before I was even born-- before you were born, too-- but… it’s generational, I suppose.” 

“I see,” Jeongguk says, even though he doesn’t. He can’t, even if he wanted to, because he doesn’t even remember where he’s from in the first place. The thought sends nerves sparking up Jeongguk’s spine. It’s the same kind of existential dread that grips his chest with cold fingers whenever he spends too long thinking about the fact that more than three quarters of his life are completely unaccounted for. 

Fidgeting, Jeongguk absently follows Jimin towards the gilded elevators that open to the dusk of the planet above. Silence settles uncomfortably between them for a few minutes until Jimin slows his pace enough to walk next to Jeongguk, tilts his head up, and advises, “This is usually the part where you’d offer something personal about yourself in return.” 

“Like…?” 

“Oh, wow, you really are bad at making small talk,” Jimin groans. “How do you have any friends?” 

I don’t, Jeongguk thinks. In the back of his head, Jeongguk flashes back to all of the people that he knew during his tours of combat. He had crewmates and copilots, but it was always perfectly clear that everyone was there to take care of themselves. There wasn’t room for camaraderie in the Outer Reaches. Attachment makes you weak; attachment kills. 

For all of them, self-reliance was safer. For Jeongguk, it still is. 

Jeongguk doesn’t realize that he may have professed his lack of friends out loud until Jimin hums and announces, hands thrown out enthusiastically, “Well, consider me your official tutor in ‘How to Be a Human Being’. First lesson: small talk.”

“Please, don’t,” Jeongguk complains as they push through the crowd, but it’s useless. 

Jimin talks over him anyway. “Since I told you something about my past, social etiquette dictates that you reciprocate in kind. So-- where did you grow up?” 

Dread slides like ice down Jeongguk’s back. He’s said too much. Somehow, in the few hours that he’s known Jimin, Jeongguk’s managed to put himself in the very situation he’s tried so long to avoid: having to discuss his past (or lack thereof) with someone else. 

“I- I don’t know,” Jeongguk admits before he can figure out how to divert Jimin’s attention. 

Jimin, par for the fucking course, refuses to be ignored. “How can you not know where you’re from? Were you an army brat or something? Did your parents move through the systems a lot?” 

“I don’t know.”

“See, you said that, but I have no clue what that means. You don’t know where you were born?”

“No.”

“But h-”

Jeongguk snaps. He stops in his tracks, filled to the brim with a mixture of fear and anger that leaves his head spinning. “Can you just drop it, Jimin?” he growls between clenched teeth. 

Jimin looks genuinely taken aback. “Shit. Fine. Consider it dropped.”

“Thank you,” Jeongguk exhales long and slow through his nose as people stream around them. “I just- let’s just not talk, alright?”

“I guess,” Jimin mutters. He looks dejected, so much so that Jeongguk spends half a second feeling bad for him. 

The feeling doesn’t last long, because it only takes ten more steps towards the elevator before Jimin is asking, chipper as ever, “So what was the air force like?” 

Jeongguk has been shot before, and it was less painful than this. “What happened to not talking?” he sighs, lifting the pack on his back higher as it starts to weigh painfully on his shoulders. 

“I strongly dislike not talking. How else will you fall in love with my charming personality?” Jimin grins from ear-to-ear, astutely ignoring Jeongguk’s disbelieving scoff. “Tell me about the Tactical Force.”

No, Jeongguk thinks, but what he says is, “I don’t really know how to describe it.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “ Try .” 

“It’s like-” Jeongguk starts, and then stops. 

All at once, words form in his head as they push and jostle through the persistent crowd. 

There’s a point where, after a while, you just kind of… stop being afraid of dying, Jeongguk wants to admit, Like exposure therapy. There are these- these scars that you carry around with you that weigh you down. And you can’t ever really stop and think about them, because then they come crashing back down and they’re real and you’re doing it all over again, and it- 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches from the restraint it takes to not spill over. 

It kills you. So, I suppose, it’s not a matter of if you die, but for how long you’ve already been dying. How slowly you’re made to die by the people who put you in a fight that wasn’t yours to begin with. How your body is managed and manipulated and used as a pawn to serve the purposes of an empire that won’t care about you because they don’t know who you are, and even you don’t know who you are, and-

Someone shouts in the distance, and Jeongguk is pulled back into the reality of the crowded marketplace. 

“...it’s interesting,” Jeongguk finishes. 

Jimin tilts his head back as he rolls his eyes so hard that Jeongguk’s half-worried they’re going to roll right out of his head. “Great answer,” Jimin harrumphs facetiously, “Really hit it home with that one.” 

It’s this-- the duality with Jimin-- that pisses Jeongguk off. There’s something about his ‘I don’t give a single fuck about anyone but me’ personality, his way of reducing things that matter to jokes and quips and comebacks, that makes Jeongguk want to scream. 

“I said that I didn’t want to talk, okay?” Jeongguk hisses in reply, “Can we just drop it?” 

Jimin looks up at him, eyes narrowed at the undercurrent of venom riding high in Jeongguk’s voice. “Jeongguk, you’re-” Jimin doesn’t finish. He just shakes his head, like he’s sympathetic about something. 

“I’m what?” 

In the background, another scream rises. It prickles something in Jeongguk’s chest, but he’s too focused on slowly hating the man in front of him to pay it much attention.

“Nothing.” 

Fury builds slowly in Jeongguk’s stomach. “I’m what?” 

And then Jimin turns to look at him, really look at him, and the strength of his gaze sort of makes Jeongguk feel like the world stops spinning around them. In that strangely-serious tone of his, Jimin begins, “You’re so-”

Someone shrieks, but it’s closer this time. Much closer. And much more terrified. 

The horror lacing through the scream pulls Jeongguk’s attention. He turns towards the source of the noise. It comes from an blue-skinned Other positioned near the main elevators, antennae quivering in terror. 

Jeongguk surveys the surrounding crowd for a half-second before he sees it. 

The doors of the elevator are open. On the golden floor lie three bodies. Jeongguk can’t pinpoint how old they are, but their blood pools on the ground, thick and sticky and red. More screams pick up from the crowd nearest to the elevator, but Jeongguk can’t hear them.

A high-pitched whine bounces between his ears as he drinks in the sight. A part of Jeongguk’s consciousness recedes into himself as Jeongguk snaps into the state of calm focus that was drilled into him during combat.

Three dead, he reports quietly. Undetermined cause of death. Elevator shaft in the Underground. Time of death approximately seventeen-ten. Threat assessment-

“What the fuck is that?!” someone from the crowd screams over the others. 

Jeongguk’s eyes snap to the ceiling of the elevator. Out of the cracks in the paneled roof, something black and smoky leaks out. It looks like a fine mist and moves like a gas, but it’s purposeful. There are prongs coming out of the crowd of black that press against the walls of the lift like they’re exploring the space. 

Jeongguk’s never seen anything like it before. It’s sentient. It’s alive, and it’s-

It’s growing. 

And as the cloud of black gets larger, pours out of the small elevator, Jeongguk hears Jimin breathe, “Oh gods. Oh gods, oh gods.” 

“Jimin?” Jeongguk mutters, unable to tear his eyes away from the cloud. Everyone in the crowd stands stock still, caught in the slow-motion pull of morbid fascination. Their eyes trace the shape of the cloud as shocked murmurings resound throughout the cavern. 

Only Jimin seems to be capable of moving. “Jeongguk,” Jimin whispers urgently, “W-we have to run. We need to go, now.” His voice sounds heavy, like he’s barely managing to restrain tears. 

It’s the emotion in his voice that tugs Jeongguk’s focus away from the massacre in the elevator. He looks down at Jimin, eyes widening at the sight of the sheer panic painted across Jimin’s face. His hands shake as they tug Jeongguk’s forearm. 

“What is that?” Jeongguk finds himself asking, but he already knows. In the back of his mind, he already knows . 

But Jimin says it out loud anyway. “D-Demon,” he stammers, terrified, “That’s the Demon. Jeongguk, we need to-”

The murmuring of the crowd comes to a halt as the black cloud brings one of it’s probing limbs to a point. Faster than Jeongguk can blink, the haze of black rushes forward, plunging the sharpened point straight through the eye of the Other that stands closest to the elevator. 

For a single second, everything goes completely silent. The Other drops to its knees as blood bubbles down its face and paints the floor black with its blood. 

“ JEONGGUK!” Jimin shrieks at the top of his lungs, and then everything explodes. 

The crowd convulses and then pulls apart in every direction-- there are Fae sprinting towards the other elevators, shopkeepers taking cover under their stalls, Humans trampling over each other in their haste to get away from the expanding cloud of black.

Jeongguk doesn’t think. Even as his heart kicks up to an allegro, Jeongguk forces himself to take a deep breath, and then his body just reacts on instinct. In one swift motion, Jeongguk bends at the knees, wraps his arms around Jimin’s legs, and tosses him over his shoulder. 

Jimin lets out a surprised yelp, but then Jeongguk is running through the tidal wave of bodies that crashes around him from every side. Screams reverberate through the bedrock of the underground cavern, but Jeongguk doesn’t let himself get sucked into the pained cries. 

He’s only absently aware of the fact that Jimin is yelling something at him, because Jeongguk is too focused on shoving his way through the crowd. He ducks under the lanterns, pivoting on his heel to avoid tripping over the body of a trampled Human woman around the next bend. 

Deep breaths, Jeongguk coaches himself internally, focusing on the way his body moves instead of the horror around him.

Jump, he tells himself, leaping over a pile of toppled spice crates that paint the ground sickly yellows and oranges. 

Twist. Jeongguk spins his body and uses the additional momentum that Jimin’s added weight provides to avoid a falling kiosk pole that’s been dislodged in the chaos. 

He’s not even sure where his feet are taking him as he sprints through the flickering light of the Underground. Jeongguk ducks down small alleys and jumps over flattened bodies. He forces himself to look away from their broken bones; Jeongguk tunes out the gurgles of their final breaths.

It’s only once he comes to a fork in the cavern’s footpaths that Jeongguk hesitates. People flood past him as he stands still, taking stock of his options. Everyone else is heading to the left, towards the back-up elevators that run in case the main ones fail. To the right is the row of restaurants and bars-- lifts that’ll take them further underground. 

Jeongguk books it for the right. 

“Jeongguk!” Jimin shrieks as he’s bounced against Jeongguk’s shoulder, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“The Speakeasy,” Jeongguk pants out, only now aware of the fact that sweat is dripping from his hairline. His chest rises and falls in heavy lurches, and it’s with a sickening sense of dread that Jeongguk instinctively knows that he’s not moving fast enough. 

Jimin makes a strangled sound. “We’re not going to make it,” he calls over the cacophony of voices suffocating the space. “Look!”

And Jeongguk looks over his shoulder. His heart drops. 

The cloud was growing before, but now it’s overwhelmingly large. The cavern itself is a hundred or so feet tall; the Demon’s cloudy form rises to fill at least two thirds of the entire Underground system. It’s tendrils snake along the ground, cutting down any being unlucky enough to be in its path. 

Its path towards Jimin, Jeongguk understands with astonishing clarity as the cloudy-black limbs seem to hone in on tracking Jimin. And, by extension, Jeongguk. 

And gods damn it, Jeongguk did not survive this long to fall to an incorporeal cloud of black smoke. 

Without breaking his stride, Jeongguk whips back around. Keeping Jimin still with one hand, Jeongguk tugs his arm out of one side of the pack’s armhole. 

Jimin notices the movement. “What’re you-” he starts to shout, but Jeongguk cuts him off as he neatly tosses Jimin into the air ahead like a bag of feathers.

As Jimin sails through the air screeching, Jeongguk makes quick work of discarding the heavy pack. He rushes forward just in time to catch Jimin on his down-swing, propping him right back on his shoulder. 

“I- will- fucking- kill you,” Jimin hyperventilates, even as his fingers scrabble for purchase on the small of Jeongguk’s back. 

“You’re not killing anybody if we both die in this fucking cave,” Jeongguk snaps back. He keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead, on the sight of The Speakeasy’s elevator doors drawing closer and closer.

Jimin slams his hand on Jeongguk’s hip. “Wait, wait!” he shouts, “Go to the left!”

“ Why?”

“Just trust me,” Jimin yells. 

And though Jeongguk shouldn’t-- because his life is literally on the line-- he impulsively lets his feet guide him down a narrow walkway between abandoned craft stalls. Following the path runs them parallel to The Speakeasy’s entrance, but it only takes Jeongguk a handful of heartbeats to understand Jimin’s plan. 

Jeongguk takes them past a stand filled to the brim with fireworks. As they pass, he hears Jimin chant rhythmically.

Just as Jeongguk reaches the end of the alley, a thin veil of black coats the road ahead like a shimmering wall. His heart stops beating for a minute, brain scrambling to come up with a way to make it out of this alive. 

He doesn’t have to worry for long. Just as the darkness starts to swirl and thicken, just as Jeongguk thinks he sees faces screaming through the net of black, the firework stall behind them catches on fire. Light explodes in bursts of screaming golds and vermillions and blues. Sparks fly, dissipating the Demon’s shadow. 

The noise, however, is deafening. Jeongguk grits his teeth as he sprints with renewed energy towards the bar’s entrance. His ears ring from the force of the fireworks’ explosive shrieks, but he focuses his attention on just making it to the elevator. 

Four yards, he pants out quietly, three, two-

One.

Jeongguk slams his shoulder into The Speakeasy’s elevator door. The polished wood buckles under the force, splintering painfully against his forearm, but Jeongguk pays it no mind. Over the sound of Jimin’s panicked breathing, Jeongguk skids into the elevator, drops Jimin to the floor, and turns the golden hand-crank that sends the elevator shuddering to life. 

“It’s tracking me,” Jimin gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly from where he’s slumped against the wall of the elevator. 

Sweat drips down Jeongguk’s brow as he turns the hand-crank as fast as possible. “Yeah, no shit,” he hisses. He’s in too deep, way deeper than he ever thought he’d be-- because this is a Demon they’re running from. This isn’t a one-stop transport between planets anymore. Jeongguk should ditch Jimin right now. He should throw him at the Demon and save himself. 

And though Jeongguk is ashamed to admit it, he considers abandoning Jimin. It’d be survival. He could leave Jimin in this elevator. He could injure him, dump his ass as soon as possible. 

But then the elevator skids to a halt at the base of its track, and Jeongguk blinks back into reality. As much as he doesn’t want to be involved in this, he is. And Jeongguk isn’t about to get anybody else killed on his watch. 

He turns, extends his hand down for Jimin to take. “Come on,” he urges, “It traveled through the main elevator; odds are that it can get through this one, too.” 

Jimin looks back up at him. He reaches out, grabs Jeongguk’s hand. “Right.” 

Jeongguk ignores the spark that seems to race up his forearm at Jimin’s touch in favor of tugging him into the wood-paneled bar. None of the Underground’s surface noise permeates the bedrock this far down, so Namjoon blinks in surprise behind the bar as Jeongguk rushes into the room. 

“What’s the rush?” Namjoon calls as he sets down an over-polished bar glass. “Who’s dying?”

“Everybody,” Jimin pants out.

Namjoon blinks. “I- what?” 

“Where’s Yoongi?” Jeongguk interrupts. He scans that bar quickly, trying to work out how the fuck they’re going to get up to the surface and out of here without getting skewered by the Demon. “We need to go. Now.”

“He’s in the back trying to find a pair of drumsticks he lost.” For probably only the third time in five years, Jeongguk watches as Namjoon walks out from behind the bar. “What’s going on? Why’re you sweating so much?” 

Jimin brushes past Namjoon to head towards the back room. “Yoongi!” he shouts, “ Yoongi!” 

“Demon,” Jeongguk says over the sound of Jimin’s cries. “We have to leave. Is there a back-up stairwell? Something that leads to the surface?” 

“I- yes. I had an emergency staircase built a few years back, but- what do you mean ‘Demon’? It’s here?” Namjoon presses. He twists his hands nervously, eyes darting over to the beat-up elevator car. 

Jeongguk wastes time nodding. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Jimin pushing a very disgruntled-looking Yoongi out of the back room. “Yes. It’s a long story. We need to go.”

“I’m sorry, but you brought the Demon here?” Yoongi screeches just as Namjoon complains petulantly, “But this is my bar!”

“We have bigger concerns right now! Say, for example, not getting actually murdered,” Jimin yells right back. “Now where the hell is the staircase?”

Namjoon throws his shoulders back defiantly. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what your concerns are. I’m not leaving this bar.”

At that very second, spools of black begin to unspool from the elevator shaft’s ceiling. They drip down the walls, pool in puddles on the floor, thickening and twisting in the low lighting. 

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon wheezes. “I take it back. Fuck this bar. Let’s go.”

Jeongguk doesn’t have time to spend coming up with a comeback. He follows on Namjoon’s heels as he runs across the room, onto the abandoned dancers’ stage, and opens the door to a well-concealed entryway. 

The inside is completely dark, spiraling up into oblivion, but it’s their only option. Jimin runs up first without an ounce of hesitation. It’s almost admirable. Yoongi goes up a moment after, remarkably nimble given his tuxedo’s limited range of motion.

Jeongguk enters the space and vaults up a few steps before he realizes that Namjoon isn’t following. He looks over his shoulder towards the door. 

Namjoon stands there, hesitating. The conflict that rides on his brow is backlit by the fading light. He bites his lip, announces, “I- I need to grab something. Go up without me.”

“You won’t make it,” Jeongguk says, surprised by the note of concern that lights up his tone. “You’re not fast enough.”

“Then don’t wait for me. Get to the ship, and if I’m not there by the time that Yoongi gets it going, leave without me.”

“Namjoon, I can’t just-”

But Namjoon is already slamming the door shut in Jeongguk’s face. The staircase is immediately sealed in complete darkness. Above, Jeongguk hears Jimin and Yoongi pounding their way up the flights of stairs towards the surface; below, he can make out the sound of splintering wood and uneasy thumps. 

He’s not your responsibility, Jeongguk makes himself think. He swallows hard. 

Namjoon isn’t your responsibility. 

And even though he feels like he’s leaving a part of himself behind, some tiny little bit of his humanity that he’ll never get back, Jeongguk races up the stairs. 

In the stairwell, everything passes in a blur. Jeongguk’s heavy breaths echo around the walls as he runs. The cool metal of the staircase bites into his palms as he grips the banisters; nothing but a chorus of hurry hurry hurry races through Jeongguk’s mind. 

He runs for so long that his sides begin to ache. Jeongguk races through the dark until it feels endless, like he’s trapped in the corners of his own mind. That this is all some kind of sick, dark imagining that plagues the corners of his brain instead of reality. 

But then he reaches the top of the staircase, and the feeling fades. 

He walks out, surprised to find that he’s standing in an enclosure between several towering obsidian buildings. 

It’s almost dark. Above, the lavender moons don’t wait for Jeongguk; they run ahead to circle the planet with a haze of purple light. Under the glow, the city is motionless. Not a single sign of the massacre in the Underground makes its way to the surface.

Jeongguk feels it in his bones. No one made it out of the Underground. No one but them. 

On cue, Yoongi shouts from the entry of the craft, “What the fuck are you waiting for?!” 

Jeongguk whips his head around. Yoongi stands on the metal staircase that opens into his battleship. The ship itself is golden and sleek, and there’s a small circular capsule sitting on the top that Jeongguk knows means this ship was built for heavy combat. The force of the engines whip Yoongi’s white hair around as he stands there, beckoning for Jeongguk to move.

“Where’s Jimin?” Jeongguk shouts over the noise. 

Yoongi jerks his head towards the craft’s cockpit. “Namjoon?”

“He-” and Jeongguk has to bite his lip. He looks down the staircase, down into the motionless dark. 

You’ll never forgive yourself, something in the back of his mind whispers. Don’t be the monster that people expect you to be. 

“Jeongguk?” Yoongi asks again over the rush of wind. 

His heart beats wildly in his chest, hammering out a staccato against his ear drums. He’s only absently aware of the way his mouth moves. “Get in the ship!” Jeongguk instructs with more authority than he feels, “Namjoon’s on his way.”

Come on, Jeongguk prays silently. Namjoon, please, come on. 

Behind him, Jeongguk hears the sound of Yoongi rushing back up the walkway. A few moments later, the ship’s landing gear grates against the mirror-slick surface of the planet. Yoongi’s getting the ship ready; they’re running out of time. 

Jeongguk shifts his weight. “Namjoon?” he yells into the staircase’s void. 

Regret swirls inside Jeongguk’s stomach. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be tasked with the responsibility of looking after three other people. He didn’t want to be here, shouting into the wind with a battleship at his back. But it’s too late. 

And a moment later, Namjoon’s head bobs into focus a few meters down the stairwell. His voice bounds up to reach Jeongguk, loud and desperate, “It’s coming! Jeongguk, run.”

Jeongguk does. He turns on his heel and sprints to the ship’s walkway, firmly ignoring the sheer relief that fills up his entire chest at the sight of Namjoon rushing behind him. He sprints up the metal stairs and turns to look back.

His heart stops beating for a moment, because ropes of thick black smoke pour out of the open doorway. They spill like water onto the planet’s surface and rise on the wind to tower over Yoongi’s ship. In the silence of the planet’s surface, Jeongguk hears the sound that the Demon makes. It’s almost like one, drawn-out scream fragmented into hundreds of voices. The cacophony swells as the Demon spreads itself longer, wider, larger to block out the moons. 

“Gods,” Jeongguk curses under his breath as Namjoon rushes past him into the semi-safety of the ship. 

They’re not going to make it. There’s no way. No matter how fast this ship is, it’s not quick enough to outrun this . Jeongguk is going to die right here, right now, without ever getting the chance to find out who he was in the first place. 

Someone rushes out to stand next to Jeongguk. 

It’s Jimin, standing firmly on the top of the staircase. 

“What’re you-” Jeongguk tries to get out, but then Jimin chants.

Jeongguk recognizes the language. It’s from Earth, one of the original tongues that used to populate the Galaxy before Standardized Common took effect. The sound of it lilting off of Jimin’s tongue raises the hairs on the back of Jeongguk’s neck; there’s a power to hearing Jimin cast an incantation.

For a moment, Jeongguk can’t move as he watches the miracles spinning themselves from Jimin’s fingers. Jimin’s eyes glow white, painfully bright in the darkness. A cloud of mist crowns Jimin’s head, swirling around his profile dizzyingly fast. There are white sigils racing down Jimin’s arms; they stop and swirl in the air around Jimin’s wrists like bracelets as sparks fly out of his fingertips. 

The sparks shoot into the distance to form a large circle around the perimeter of the battleship. As they land on the cold ground, the bits of white energy rise in panels, taller and taller and taller , shaping and forming a semi-circle dome around the entire ship.

Jeongguk watches as the Demon crashes against it, its darkness cutting off the light of the moons entirely as it wraps all the way around Jimin’s protective dome. 

“Jeongguk,” Jimin pants from the exertion. “Come on.” He grabs Jeongguk’s hand, tugs him back into the ship and out of the surprised wonder of witnessing Jimin’s magic. 

The inside of Yoongi’s ship looks just like Jeongguk thinks it would, but there’s no time to drink in the horrible familiarity of their surroundings. The walkway immediately rises behind them, and Jeongguk only has seconds to wrap an arm around Jimin’s waist before Yoongi brings the craft jolting to life from the closed-off cockpit. 

A deafening ‘crash!’ reverberates through the underside of Jimin’s dome as the Demon slams itself against the wall. The ship tilts as it rises, and Jeongguk tugs Jimin’s back to his chest as he slides down one of the ship’s walls to brace his back and keep them from slipping. 

“I can’t hold it for long,” Jimin rushes out. Like this, Jeongguk can feel the pounding of Jimin’s heart, the way his chest rises and falls in panicked gasps. 

Jeongguk sucks in a breath through his nose as Yoongi pilots the ship up and up, readying for the inevitable jolt. “You don’t have to,” he says, breath ghosting against the shell of Jimin’s ear. “Just hold on to me.” 

“I-”

All at once, Yoongi accelerates. 

Jeongguk feels his stomach flip at the equilibrium shift as they’re shot forwards, punching through Jimin’s protective circle and smashing a hole straight through the Demon’s visage. Jimin lets out a startled shriek, adjusting between Jeongguk’s legs as his fingers grip at the walls uselessly. 

Jeongguk’s brain is quiet as he experiences the feeling of combat again. Yoongi pilots them neatly through the high-rises; he twists the spacecraft over and around the slick buildings, raising them nearly perpendicular to the planet’s surface as he readies to exit orbit. 

Through the reinforced window that sits across the way, Jeongguk sees the Demon behind them, but it’s not rushing to meet them. It doesn’t give chase. Instead, as the turbulence of exiting the planet’s upper atmosphere shakes the entire craft, the Demon spirals itself back through the doorway leading into the Underground. 

“Where’s it going?” Jeongguk mutters under his breath. 

He’s not expecting an answer, and Jimin doesn’t give one. Instead, Jimin goes stock-still as the Demon disappears, tensing noticeably in Jeongguk’s arms. Jeongguk follows his stare-- he locks his gaze on the planet’s horizon that gets further and further away as Yoongi pulls them into open space.

As the ship’s artificial gravity kicks into gear, Jeongguk sees it. 

There, on the edge of the black planet’s horizon, now miles below them, a column of black punches into the sky. It’s dark and thick, and Jeongguk realizes with a sinking sense of dread what’s happening. The column expands into what looks like a net of clouds, reaching around the planet alarmingly fast.

No, Jeongguk thinks. No. 

But that doesn’t stop the clouds from swirling around the entire planet until it’s completely suffocated under the shadows. And then the mass of black smoke convulses, undulating against the planet. It squeezes. 

Jimin’s grip on his arm tightens unbearably as the craft speeds away from the planet. “I’m sorry,” it sounds like Jimin is muttering on loop under his breath. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

No. 

It’s silent all around them as Yoongi twists them through the stars and away from the carnage behind. It’s silent as the Demon grips the entire planet hard enough to fracture it. It’s completely quiet as the entire planet, an entire planet, fragments into a million little pieces. 

All Jeongguk can do is watch in horror as millions of lives are snuffed out all at once. 

I’ve never seen a world end before, Jeongguk thinks fuzzily, or maybe says out loud. 

The understanding sinks into Jeongguk’s bones, but he can’t even really register it. Jeongguk is no stranger to combat, or powerful people, but this-- this thing is different. 

One planet isn’t far enough, Jeongguk understands coldly, A Galaxy isn’t far enough. 

This thing will eat its way through the entire system to get to Jimin. And as much as Jeongguk doesn’t want to admit it, he’s stuck smack in the middle of this hell now. 

He’s on the run. They’re on the run . 

Jeongguk just hopes that they’ll run fast enough to survive. Because if they don’t-- 

He’ll end up just like the planet below. Fragmented and already forgotten, left to swirl uselessly in the void, surrounded by a sea of silence. 

Jeongguk swallows hard. 

Chapter Text

Jeongguk stares out of the ship’s windows, mind wandering as stars spin past in the distance. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here watching the last bits of the planet fragment into increasingly tiny pieces. 

There’s a silence in Jeongguk’s head-- one of the insidious ones that whispers to him. To fill the quiet. It hisses at him. The silence lingers in his ear and blames Jeongguk for all of this: for the planet ending, for agreeing to transport Jimin across the planet, for getting involved in any of this. Rationally, Jeongguk knows that none of this is really his fault, but reason doesn’t seem to be able to penetrate the heavy stillness. 

It doesn’t help that the inside of this ship is nearly identical to the one Jeongguk worked in during his time in the Tactical Force. It’s all polished metal and round angles. There are two floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the ship and a ladder running through the center of the craft. Jeongguk knows that downstairs are the sleeping quarters, the medical bay, and the storage rooms. What bothers him most, however, is that he knows what’s above as well. 

The smooth dome of reinforced glass. The two guns plastered to either side of the compartment. The quiet, air-tight seal that locked Jeongguk up there in the gunner’s capsule so many times before. 

Jeongguk shudders as he fights the memories that try to resurface. 

Thankfully, the door to the cockpit slides open at that very moment. Yoongi steps out, looking haggard and visibly upset but otherwise no worse for wear. “I’ve got autopilot on. Everyone okay back here?” he asks, discarding his suit jacket on the small table by the cockpit’s entrance. 

“Ugh,” Namjoon grimaces as he stumbles out of the cockpit after Yoongi. There’s a small object tucked under one of his arms, but Jeongguk doesn’t pay it much attention. He surveys Namjoon instead. The shade of green that tints his face is enough to tell Jeongguk that Namjoon is an inexperienced flyer even before Namjoon grunts out, “Nauseous, but fine.” 

Jeongguk sends a glance at Jimin. Jimin sits at the opposite window, back pressed against the cool glass. His shirt is stained and there’s a sickly kind of paleness coating his body that’s worrisome. 

“We’re okay,” Jeongguk tries to reassure, but it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. 

Jimin flicks his eyes up to meet Jeongguk’s briefly. “M’ fine,” he nods. 

Jeongguk hates how it eases a little knot of tension in his chest. 

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to spend too long analyzing the emotion. In the next breath, Yoongi hums, “Great,” crosses the distance in three quick strides, and grabs Jimin by the collar of his white shirt. 

Jimin lets out a surprised yelp as Yoongi hoists him clean off of his feet like he weighs nothing. Yoongi walks them back towards the window and slams Jimin against it hard enough that the ‘crack!’ of his skull against the glass reverberates throughout the sparse cabin. 

“ Hey!” Jimin yells. His fingers scrabble over Yoongi’s hands in an attempt to pry them off of his collar, but Yoongi’s got a surprisingly strong grip. 

Jeongguk is stuck still for a moment by the violence of the movement. He snaps back into that analytical-mode, drinks in the way Yoongi’s arms are surprisingly corded underneath his dress shirt, Yoongi’s impeccable fighting stance (feet firmly rooted to the floor, core lowered and braced). 

It’s only once Yoongi slams Jimin back against the window again that Jeongguk springs into action. All of Jeongguk’s focus recenters as he darts across the room. Within heartbeats, Jeongguk wraps his hand tightly around one of Yoongi’s wrists. 

“Let him go,” Jeongguk warns, voice low. 

Even though Jeongguk has a foot or so worth of height on Yoongi, the other man doesn’t look deterred in the slightest. Instead, Yoongi twists out of Jeongguk’s hold and scoffs, “I don’t owe either of you anything. Step the fuck back, kid.” 

Something inside of Jeongguk’s chest tightens at the dismissal. It reminds him of his superiors in the Tactical Force. The ones that never seemed to care whether he lived or died. “No,” he growls, his hand shooting out to grab onto Yoongi’s wrist tighter this time, “Not if you’re going to hurt him.” 

The look that Yoongi sends his way cuts like a knife. “Thought you weren’t his bodyguard,” Yoongi practically snarls. His fingers tighten on Jimin’s collar, and Jimin lets out an involuntary little bleat of alarm as he thrashes about. 

“I’m not. But I’m not exactly prone to forgiving unnecessary violence either.” Jeongguk glowers down at Yoongi and hopes that the sincerity on his face will diffuse some of the fury riding high on Yoongi’s brow. Truthfully, there’s something surprising about Yoongi’s vehemence, but Jeongguk chalks it up to the fact that the planet he’d called home recently broke apart into billions of little pieces.

It doesn’t. 

Yoongi shifts his posture, turns to face Jeongguk head-on. “I’m sorry,” he drawls slowly, “But weren’t you the one who threatened me at the bar? Weren’t you the one who made it perfectly fucking clear that I didn’t have an option to say no? It was blackmail that you used, wasn’t it? You said you’d report me, right?” 

Shame rushes through Jeongguk, cold and hard and fast. Almost involuntarily, he lets go of Yoongi’s arm as he remembers slipping back into the persona that he used to wear. 

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi sighs. He turns back to Jimin, frowns, “I wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for the two of you.” 

Jimin blinks. His fingers still on Yoongi’s hands as he looks Yoongi dead in the eyes and retorts, “Yeah, but you’d be dead if it weren’t for us. We got you off the planet, so maybe you should show some gratitude, old man.”

In the background, Namjoon draws a sharp breath. But before he can intervene, Yoongi pushes his face closer to Jimin’s and snarls, “It was you who got us all into this mess in the first place. There’s literally a world that’s been destroyed, and I’m just supposed to, what, help you get to the next planet? Is that it?” 

“Maybe we should all just take a minute,” Namjoon suggests, “A few cleansing breaths or something. Deep inhale, deep exhale.” He walks to the other side of Yoongi and models taking a deep breath. 

Jimin rolls his eyes at the feeble attempt to deescalate. “The next planet isn’t far enough , grandpa,” he spits angrily, “The Demon is going to eat its way through the whole system.” 

Ice runs through Jeongguk’s veins as he absorbs the information. His mouth moves before his brain finishes processing, and hears himself blurting, “What? How do you-”

And then his brain catches up with his body. He takes in the hardened edges of Jimin’s face, the innocence that seems to melt off at a moment’s notice. All at once, Jeongguk remembers Jimin’s entrance into the bar, the bags he had with him, the way he managed to coincidentally run into Jeongguk almost immediately. 

“Oh, my gods,” Jeongguk breathes out, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, “You- you fucking knew that this Demon was coming, didn’t you? That’s why you asked me to get you off the planet as soon as possible?” 

Accusing Jimin right now probably isn’t the best move considering the way Yoongi’s fingers twitch against Jimin’s neck, but there’s a raw sort of anger rolling to boil in Jeongguk’s chest. Getting roped into a situation he doesn’t want to be in in the first place, but being lied to about the stakes is something else entirely. 

For once, Jimin looks somewhat nervous. He swallows hard. “I-”

“You knew it was coming?” Yoongi cuts him off with an incredulous laugh. His eyebrows rise to his hairline as he shakes his head in disbelief. “You knew that people were going to die because of you, and you just-- didn’t warn them?” 

Jimin bites his lower lip. “I saved you three. That’s all I could’ve done.” He looks doubtful, like he doesn’t quite believe the words that lilt from his tongue. 

Jeongguk can practically feel the fury oozing off of Yoongi. It seems to flow from him in waves, building and building and building until Yoongi himself seems to get larger by the sheer force of his emotion. “You could have saved everyone!” he roars right in Jimin’s face. 

Immediately, all of the doubt drips clean off of Jimin’s features. In its place rises something colder, harder, and altogether self-assured. Something prickles in the back of Jeongguk’s mind again; it’s that small, seemingly insignificant voice that whispers ‘Something isn’t quite right’.

“Yeah?” Jimin snarls back, nose wrinkling as his lips pull back, “And how do you propose that I could’ve done that? Would you have had me issue a planetary-wide evacuation notice? Scare people shitless and send them packing even though I knew it was useless?” 

Color rises to Yoongi’s cheeks, and Namjoon shifts his weight between his two feet uncomfortably. “I-”

“It would’ve caused a system-wide panic,” Jimin bulldozes over Yoongi’s interjection. “And for what? People still would’ve been left behind, and anyone who made it out would be forced to live in the refugee camps in the Inner Reaches. You know what those are like; are you seriously telling me that I made the wrong decision? At least this way everyone only had to be afraid for a few minutes.” 

The conviction in Jimin’s tone tugs on something in Jeongguk’s stomach. It sends adrenaline straight through Jeongguk’s body, because this is wrong. It’s wrong. 

“It wasn’t your decision to make,” Jeongguk finds himself interrupting. For a moment, he feels like he’s out of his body, watching as he takes a step closer to Jimin, crossing his arms over his chest combatively. 

Jimin looks at him. His eyes widen with incredulity, and then he says, “Are you serious? You, too? You’re turning this into my fault?” 

“Isn’t this whole thing your fault?” Jeongguk challenges. He takes another step closer to the windows-- towards the stars that spin in the vacuum around them, unaware of the destruction that Jimin has left in his wake. “You’re the one that let the Demon out in the first place.”

Red rushes to Jimin’s cheeks. He looks embarrassed, irritated even, but not apologetic. “I’m working on it,” Jimin grits out, “I’m trying to fix this!”

“By letting innocent people die?” Jeongguk issues the challenge without missing a beat. 

Something in Jimin’s expression breaks. The words come flying out of his mouth faster than he seems to register. “By picking the three people who I knew could help me win this fucking thing!” 

Silence descends as Jimin’s eyes widen even further. His jaw shuts with an audible click, and then Yoongi’s lowering him to the floor as everyone processes what the hell just came out of Jimin’s mouth. 

Picking the three people. The words bounce around Jeongguk’s brain.

Namjoon recovers first. “...picking us?” he asks. His voice bounces around the metal interior, smaller than normal but altogether too large for the pregnant quiet that drapes over all of them. 

Licking his lips, Jimin explains slowly, “Do you really think that I’m stupid? What’re the odds that I ‘accidentally’ run into an ex-gunner, one of the Galaxy’s most adept fighter pilots, and an Antiquities scholar in the span of eight hours?” 

There are too many things to process, so many implications to pick apart that they bounce around Jeongguk’s head like ricocheted bullets. So instead of the hundreds of other questions that Jeongguk has (i.e., ‘What do you mean, you ‘planned’ this?’ How did you pick us? Why did you pick us? ), he latches on to the wrong piece of information, turns to Namjoon, and asks before he can stop himself, “You’re an Antiquities scholar? How come I didn’t know that?” 

“You never asked,” Namjoon shrugs. “And I-”

Jimin lets out an uninterested puff of air from his nose. “He’s an ex-professor from Her Empresses’ Royal Academy of the Historical Sciences. Retired a few years back due to personal reasons. Is that right?” He cocks his head to the side, and his long, silver earrings brush against his neck with the movement. 

Blinking, Namjoon stammers, “How do you-” 

“I’ve been looking for you all for a long time,” Jimin dismisses easily with a wave of his hand, “Give me some credit. I’m an Alchemist , not some barefoot-and-pregnant maiden in need of your assistance.”

Namjoon clears his throat uncomfortably. “That’s offensive.” 

The harsh lighting of the inside of the spacecraft shines down on Jimin in tandem with the annoyance that rushes through his features. “My point is: I know what I’m doing. And, unfortunately, there was nothing I could’ve done about the planet. It’s just… how it had to be.” 

Jeongguk has to restrain his disbelieving laugh. He crosses his arms, raises himself up to his full height. “You just admitted that you knew where we were and who we were before you met us, which means that you knew that the Demon would track you to our planet,” Jeongguk half-growls as he confronts the implication behind Jimin’s words. “You had much longer to warn the system of the Demon’s arrival, but you chose not to.”

Horror dawns on Yoongi’s face, and Jimin looks red enough to scream, but Jeongguk pushes on, “ You made that choice, Jimin, and everyone just fell into the calculus of ‘acceptable harm’, didn’t they? Because, really, who gives a shit about what happens to everyone else so long as you make it our alright, huh?” 

Disgust sits low in Jeongguk’s stomach. The way that Jimin is so cavalier about billions of people losing their lives is disgusting. And truthfully, whatever the fuck Jimin has been through doesn’t negate the harm he’s caused-- not by a long shot. 

There’s a part of Jeongguk (a large part) that wants to eject Jimin straight into space and watch him pay for what he’s done, but-- the smaller part of his brain whispers, quiet and sure, that if Jeongguk does that, if he lets one more person under his watch die, he’ll be no better than Jimin. 

It hurts. It fucking hurts to have to protect this man, but Jeongguk’s already committed. And even though Jeongguk wants to pretend that he can be the kind of person to say, ‘Good luck with everything! Have a good life! Get fucking lost!’ he knows that he’s not. 

Jeon Jeongguk cares too much. One day, it’ll probably get him killed. 

But today, all it really does is make Jimin scowl in disapproval. “You don’t really get what we’re up against, do you?” Jimin jabs a finger over his shoulder, back out the massive window and towards what used to be a planet floating in the distance. “That thing can destroy worlds . There are no easy choices.” 

“But there are right choices. There are better choices-- ones that hurt the fewest amount of people,” Yoongi hisses, “And you chose wrong.” He moves across the room like he needs to be physically far away from Jimin in order to restrain himself from doing anything stupid, like punching Jimin straight out of the airlock. 

Jimin takes a step forward, combative and unfettered. He pushes away Namjoon’s arm that’s thrown out in a feeble attempt to keep the disagreement contained. “What’re you going to do about it, huh?” Jimin snarls viciously, “Throw me out? You need me. I specialize in Demonology. What can you do? You’re just an Elemental, Yoongi; you can’t handle this without me.” 

From across the foyer, Jeongguk sees Yoongi’s expression darken considerably. “Shut your mouth,” Yoongi growls under his breath. 

“Or what?” Jimin taunts.

Sparks begin to fly from the tips of Yoongi’s fingers. They’re bright red and angry. The ones that land on the floor smolder for agonizing seconds and leave charred marks in their wake. “Or I’ll-”

“That’s enough,” Namjoon booms suddenly, loud and authoritative enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room. Even Jeongguk finds himself standing up straighter, eyes locked on their apparent de facto ruler. “Look, I get that we’re all angry-”

Yoongi practically explodes. “ Angry?!” 

Namjoon silences him with a glare. “I get that we’re all angry. I do. But this isn’t helping anyone. Us standing here and threatening each other like we’re fucking children isn’t going to save lives.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks towards the ceiling like he’s praying for patience. “Like it or not, we’re all here now, and our priority is getting out of this fucking solar system before that thing eats it. We have to get out of here and figure out some way to contain this thing, to warn people.” 

He looks at all of them individually, meeting their eyes for a few tense seconds. “Let’s just focus on that goal for now, and we can deal with Jimin and his questionable morals later.” 

Silence folds over them for a few heartbeats. Jeongguk watches as Yoongi’s face contorts into a progression from irate-to-irritated-to-annoyed-to-grudging acceptance. Eventually, Yoongi grits out from behind clenched teeth, “Fine. But this-” here he breaks off, gestures between himself and Jimin, “-this isn’t over.” 

Jimin has the balls to shrug nonchalantly, like the outcome of their argument truly doesn’t phase him. “Whatever you say.” 

Yoongi turns to walk deeper into the ship’s main cabin, but his eyes catch on Jeongguk as he brushes past. He stops in his tracks, gestures to Jeongguk. “You’re bleeding all over my interior.” 

“Oh,” Jeongguk blinks. He looks down at his left arm. There’s a gash running down the length of his forearm. It’s not deep, but it’s long and bleeding pretty badly. It’s surprising, because between the adrenaline of escaping an actual Demon and the adrenaline of being involved in a seemingly life-or-death argument, Jeongguk hadn’t even realized he was bleeding or in pain to begin with. “I broke down the elevator door earlier. Must’ve gotten nicked by a wood fragment or something.” 

Yoongi jerks his head towards the staircase in the center of the room as he finally walks past. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he calls behind him dismissively, “I have medical supplies downstairs. Use them if you want. And clean up the bloodstains.” 

Jeongguk thinks that he says something like ‘Alright’ or ‘Thank you’, but he can’t be entirely certain. It still feels like he’s vaguely outside of himself as he looks down at the shallow puddle of blood collecting near his black boot. 

In it, Jeongguk thinks he sees the future in a very real way. Because this-- this is the end result if he doesn’t help Jimin. If they don’t pull together and end this thing, they’ll just be another smear of blood on the ground. 

The thought has Jeongguk shuddering more than the deadly glare Jimin is sending at Yoongi’s back, or the gold-tinted urn Namjoon has strapped to his belt, or the gunner capsule sitting atop just waiting for Jeongguk to step inside. 

Jeongguk thought he had it bad before. Sure, he was missing twenty years worth of memories; sure , he didn’t know where he came from or who he was, but at least he wasn’t literally running from his life from actual ancient evil. 

This is it, Jeongguk thinks, This is rock bottom. 

And as he stares out the window watching the stars brush past in the black expanse of space, Jeongguk thinks The Fatal Thought: 

It can’t possibly get much worse than this. 

🌕

You’d be dead if it weren’t for us

And how do you propose I could’ve done that?

Do you really think that I’m stupid?

I’ve been looking for you all for a long time.

I don’t know.

I don’t know ; I didn’t stick around.

Can we just leave it alone now?

You can turn them off.

🌔

It gets worse, because of course it does, but the transition happens slowly. So slowly, in fact, that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize it’s happening. 

It starts as Jeongguk walks through the maze of the ship’s below-deck area. Jeongguk hasn’t been in one of these battleships in a while; he’d forgotten how much space there is hidden in the ship. 

The hallways themselves are octagonal and a bit too short for Jeongguk to stand up comfortably in, and they curve around the smooth edges of the ship. Above Jeongguk’s head, oil lanterns flicker dimly in the semi-darkness. It’s abundantly clear that Yoongi hasn’t hosted anybody in a while . Cobwebs drip from the rafters (Jeongguk spends about three seconds wondering how the hell an Earthside spider managed to survive in space for so long), and there are mysterious stains occasionally spotting the floor mottled greens and rust reds. 

“Gross,” Jeongguk winces as he passes an old stain that looks suspiciously like dried blood. He side-steps it, rubbing along his freshly-bandaged arm as he makes his way to the end of the hall. 

In front of him are two doors. Storage, one of them reads. Lavatory, the other announces in blocky white lettering. Neither are particularly interesting, and Jeongguk isn’t exactly interested in making his way down the stretch of hallway to his right. The lights down that way are even dimmer, and though Jeongguk knows that it probably leads to the ship’s docking bay, he doesn’t quite feel like traipsing through a darkened tunnel with no backup. 

So Jeongguk turns on his heel, fully intending to make his way back up to the main deck and deal with the aftermath of the Yoongi-Jimin smackdown. But then the door to his left catches his eye.

Unlike the others that line the cramped walkway, this one is copper that’s worn smooth with the passage of time and pressed hands. There’s no name plate in sight. Ultimately, that’s what seals the deal for Jeongguk. 

Curiosity is a fatal flaw of his, and Jeongguk realizes this. It’s a major reason that he’s in this situation in the first place, but it’s also the reason that he’s one hell of a Private Investigator. 

“What do we have here?” Jeongguk mutters to himself under his breath. It’s another one of his habits. Just a little something to keep the quiet at bay. 

He pulls on the small, gilded door handle and is a bit disappointed that the door swings open easily. Jeongguk was hoping for a little more excitement than that, especially with a mysterious-looking door like this . 

But when he walks through, the disappointment fades. 

As soon as the door is cracked open, blue light shines bright and strong straight in Jeongguk’s eyes. He has to squint against the force of it as he enters to give his eyes time to adjust to the blinding lights. Once his retinas have sufficiently recovered, Jeongguk blinks in shock as he takes in the rest of the room. 

All of the walls are padded and grey-black. The floor is similar, but in the center of the room, there’s a large cylinder. It’s filled to the brim with blue, viscous liquid that bubbles from behind the glass. The glass itself is frosted over with a thick sheet of white ice. Tubes run from the ceiling into the cylinder and back out along the floor. They join at the computer-slash-command-panel that’s positioned right next to the cylinder itself. 

The buttons are faded and in disrepair, but they tell Jeongguk enough as he approaches. Activate, the big green one in the center of the console reads.

“No way,” Jeongguk breathes as he realizes what this is. 

It’s an AI pod. One of the old ones-- the pods developed before Androids and manufactured Cyborgs came into circulation. This one seems to run on the old blue sulfurous gel that sent these AI straight out of fashion. 

Jeongguk rushes over to the pod, letting the door bang shut behind him in his excitement. He swipes one hand across the cool glass to brush off some of the condensation. “What’re you doing here , huh?” he asks the AI that rests behind the glass. 

The AI itself takes human form. It’s mid-height, has a swath of black hair on its head, and enough muscle that tells Jeongguk this AI has been used in the past. “You’re a fully functioning model, aren’t you?” Jeongguk whispers, like the AI behind the glass can open its eyes and answer him, “But why are you on a combat ship?” 

Part of the old AI agreement was that the models would never see combat. Earthside, it resulted in a massive AI-rights case since, if scientists could give intelligence and sentience to AI, it stands to reason that they also deserved the respect that Humans were generally afforded. At most, AI models were relegated to serving purely domestic roles. This is something entirely different. 

Jeongguk squints to get a better look. The AI is naked, and there are strange streaks of grey and black down its arms. They shine like metal. It takes Jeongguk an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that they are metal-- they’re knives, perfectly slotted into the AI’s forearms. 

Shuddering, Jeongguk says in awe, “Oh, you’re modified, aren’t you?” Of their own volition, Jeongguk’s fingers run the length of the glass. They look for the little latch that Jeongguk knows is somewhere on the side, the small indentation in the pod that will send the shield lifting off of the enclosure. 

Jeongguk is so engrossed that he doesn’t know somebody else is in the room with him until Yoongi demands, “What the hell are you doing?”

Though his heartbeat ticks up worryingly fast, Jeongguk does an excellent job of not showing his surprise. He takes a deep breath, plasters a mask of calm across his face, and turns around. “Investigating,” Jeongguk half-lies smoothly. “It’s my job, after all.”

Yoongi looks unimpressed. He stands in the copper doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest. With the pique of one eyebrow, he prompts, “...what could you possibly be investigating on my ship?” 

“Why do you have a Heuristic Operational Personal Entity on your battleship?” Jeongguk sidesteps the question smoothly. He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder towards the blue-glowing pod. “This looks like a domestic model.” 

The glower on Yoongi’s face deepens as he takes another step into the small room. He’s got this presence about him, like he’s much bigger than his body. Yoongi seems to fill up the entire room (which is saying something, considering that Jeongguk is technically the largest in every room he walks into). “How is that any of your business?” Yoongi challenges. 

Quietly, the door snicks shut behind him. Jeongguk puts his hands on his hips and squares his shoulders, refusing to be intimidated by the man in front of him. “I mean. It’s illegal to own one of these for purposes other than domestic tasks. Especially if they’re modified.”

Another step forward and Yoongi is practically standing with his chest pressed to Jeongguk’s. “Yeah?” he hisses, eyebrows drawing down and close, “And what’re you gonna do about it? Report me?” His eyes flash with the warning. 

Just like before, cold shame runs its way through Jeongguk’s body as he remembers his first encounter with Yoongi. He lets out a sigh and allows his shoulders to drop. “Look, I’m sorry about that,” Jeongguk apologizes begrudgingly. “I was-”

Desperate, Jeongguk’s brain supplies. I needed your help. I’m just bad at healthy communication. 

“I just wasn’t thinking,” Jeongguk says instead, “And honestly, I understand why you’re upset. I wouldn’t have handled being threatened as well as you did.” 

Yoongi scoffs, but some of the ire leaves his eyes. He looks Jeongguk up and down; it’s clear that he’s reassessing the person standing before him. The attention makes Jeongguk’s insides roil with displeasure, but he forces himself to remain strong and tall until Yoongi finally mutters, “I bet.” He takes a step back.

Jeongguk jumps on the concession. “Just- I want you to know that I’m not the bad guy here, alright?” he rushes to add, hands gesticulating in the air, “I don’t really want to help Jimin any more than you do, but we don’t exactly have a lot of options here. And the sooner we take him to where he needs to go, the sooner we can dump his ass and move on with our lives.” 

The look that Yoongi levels him with cuts right to the core. It’s another assessment. Jeongguk just hopes he passes. Silence stretches between them for uncomfortable minutes as the gears in Yoongi’s head turn. 

Jeongguk half wishes that the floor underneath him would open up and swallow him whole. He’s never really felt… small before, but Yoongi radiates some kind of strange power that Jeongguk can’t quite put his finger on. It’s not necessarily wisdom or gravity; it’s more like… 

Self-assuredness, Jeongguk realizes. His eyes trace over Yoongi at the understanding. Jeongguk does some reassessing of his own. 

The amount of muscle suggests that he’s had to bulk up, Jeongguk thinks critically, Probably from having to take care of himself. 

He looks at the scar on Yoongi’s face again. Probably from a fight, he surmises. 

And the fighting stance, the knack for piloting, and the stiff-backed, confident way Yoongi carries himself point to something bigger. It’s on the tip of Jeongguk’s tongue, and he squints in concentration-

But then Yoongi is letting out a breath and running his hands down his face in exasperation. “I know,” he exhales low and slow, “I know that you’re not the bad guy, but- It’s just-”

“It’s hard,” Jeongguk guesses. 

Yoongi nods. “Yeah. It’s really fucking hard. I mean… who just allows genocide to happen and then walks away from it? How am I supposed to help someone like that?” 

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth; it’s all Jeongguk can say. He still is trying to wrap his head around the fact that the innocent, wide-eyed man who commissioned his help in the bar is completely different from the man on the ship with him now. 

“I just want him to get the fuck off of my ship,” Yoongi growls protectively. He looks around the room, back towards the entrance as though Jimin could show up at any moment and set the entire place aflame. 

(Which, fair.) 

A little jolt of guilt rushes to Jeongguk’s chest. It’s clear that Yoongi values his ship. All of a sudden, Jeongguk feels like a bit of an asshole for snooping around. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for snooping,” he mutters awkwardly, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, “Occupational hazard and all that.” 

Surprisingly, Yoongi lets out a chuff of laughter. “I get it,” he chortles. Jutting his chin towards the blue pod standing silently behind Jeongguk, Yoongi says, “He, uh. He malfunctioned a while ago. I just haven’t wanted to let him go quite yet. Holding out for an engineer who can repair him.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeongguk hums. He hadn’t noticed any damage on the AI lying in the pod. Must be something internal, Jeongguk thinks, like he has any expertise in AI engineering and behavioral analysis. 

The sigh that Yoongi lets out is more than a little wistful. He walks to the other side of the pod, rests his hand against the cold of the pod’s glass. “Yeah. He was the operational entity of this ship back when I was a fighter pilot.” 

Jeongguk watches as Yoongi’s eyes flash with sadness. He does some quick calculation in his head-- Jeongguk has never seen Yoongi before in Her Empresses’ Tactical Force, and Yoongi looks no older than his mid-thirties. Even accounting for planetary time slippage, there’s no way that Yoongi fought in a war that Jeongguk wasn’t also a part of. He shouldn’t have been assigned a ship with an AI. It’s against the mandate of the Empire. 

“Really?” Jeongguk asks, “I didn’t know that the Empress-issued fighter ships came with their own AI. Mine sure as hell didn’t.” 

Yoongi snorts. Without looking up from the AI trapped behind the glass, he admits, “This isn’t a government-issued craft.” 

And then it clicks. 

“Oh. You’re a fighter pilot for the rebellion, aren’t you?”

Yoongi smiles, wide and reminiscent. “I was,” he hums, tracing his finger along the foggy glass, “Before it all blew up in our faces.”

Jeongguk fights the grimace that tries to rise to his face. The rebellion was only put down a few years ago; it’s the reason Jeongguk was relieved of duty from the Tactical Force. Jeongguk still remembers hearing the cease-fire announced over the radio. He can still remember the relief he felt in his bones that day.

“The peace talks really did the trick, huh?” Jeongguk tries nervously. 

“I wasn’t really expecting blatant placating to work, but I guess I was wrong,” Yoongi says with a shrug. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk didn’t expect the peace talks to work either. The whole rebellion started because of the brutal treatment of the planets in the Outer Reaches. All it’d apparently taken to quell the revolution was a few electoral seats on Her Empresses’ royal council, and the revolt died in a heartbeat. 

It’s still hard for Jeongguk to believe. But, hey. Politics. 

Jeongguk clears his throat, just a bit embarrassed about being face-to-face with someone he was instructed to kill just a few years ago. “Uhm- where were you stationed?” he asks feebly. 

“Outer Reaches.” 

“Huh. I was too. Good thing I never shot you out of the sky, huh?” Jeongguk jokes.

Yoongi guffaws. “Please. Like you could’ve,” he teases.

For the first time in a while, Jeongguk lets out a laugh and is surprised to find that he means it. “Hey! I’m Galaxy renowned!” 

“So am I,” Yoongi throws back without missing a beat. 

Jeongguk pokes his tongue into his cheek to kill the smile that tries to pull on his lips. “You’re palatable when you’re not slamming people up against walls, do you know that?” 

“Yeah, well, you’re tolerable when you drop the ‘rough and tough’ facade.” Yoongi steps away from the AI pod, looks Jeongguk up and down. “You seem to be a decent guy, Jeongguk,” he decides. 

And though the words are a compliment sort of couched as an insult, Jeongguk finds himself wincing. 

I wish, he thinks, I wish. 

“Thanks,” is what he says instead. 

Yoongi just shoots him a ‘please don’t mention it ever again’ look before gesturing back towards the door. “...so, are we done here?” he asks, “Or are there any other rooms that you want to poke around in before your curiosity is satisfied?” 

“No, I’m alright,” Jeongguk huffs. He follows Yoongi out of the room and back into one of the dark, octagonal hallways. 

Yoongi calls over his shoulder, “Great, because I left Namjoon and Jimin alone up there to look for you, and I really don’t want to come back to any corpses.” 

Honestly, Jeongguk wishes that Yoongi were joking. “Good plan,” he mutters under his breath when they reach the ladder. As they start climbing rung by rung, something occurs to Jeongguk.

“Hey,” he interrupts suddenly, “Should we, I don’t know, chart a course or something? Do we know where we’re going?” 

Yoongi looks down at him from where he’s positioned higher up on the ladder. “I’ll do it tomorrow. There’s no way I’m doing something as important as routing us through the Galaxy on only one hour’s sleep.”

It’s a fair point, but one glance outside of the hexagonal, gold-plated porthole confirms Jeongguk’s creeping suspicion. “But aren’t we in unprotected space right now?” he asks warily. Everyone knows what happens out in these parts, the areas just in between the Inner and Outer Reaches-- the disappearances, the backroom deals, the murders. 

Jeongguk can deal with his share of trouble, but he’d really like to get a good night’s sleep without having to worry about whether he’s going to wake up with a gun pressed to his head or with a sword pointed against his chest. 

Yoongi doesn’t seem to share his concerns. He shakes his head and resumes climbing. “I have a reputation, you know,” he assures from above, “No one will mess with us out here. Not if they want to walk out of this alive.” 

“...okay,” Jeongguk reluctantly agrees, “If you say so.” 

Doubt eats away at Jeongguk’s subconscious, but he tries to push it away. Yoongi must know what he’s doing. Jeongguk has to trust that-- he has to, because the alternative is that they’re hurtling through space with an ex-rebel, an overly-knowledgeable barkeep, an Alchemist with an attitude problem and a penchant for mass murder, and an ex-gunner with no past. 

The thought makes Jeongguk’s mouth dry up.

It’ll be alright, he reassures himself. 

It’ll all work out. 

🌓

But then Jeongguk follows Yoongi up the ladder. He pokes his head out of the square hole in the floor and immediately finds himself doubting that everything will be alright in the end. 

Jimin sits on one side of the room, perched delicately on the end of the black-upholstered bench below the wall of windows. He stares at Namjoon. Namjoon, who sits on the opposite side of the ship on a similarly patterned bench, stares right back. He turns the small urn in his hands, but Namjoon looks like he’s locked into some kind of charged staring contest with Jimin. 

“...what’s going on up here?” Jeongguk asks carefully, clearing his throat as he rights himself. 

Namjoon blinks rapidly. He shakes his head as though coming out of a fog and replies, “Oh, you know. Sitting contemplatively.” There’s something different about his eyes that Jeongguk can’t quite place-- maybe it’s the way his pupils are a little too dilated, or maybe it’s the thin veins of blood-red that lace through the sclera. But then Namjoon is gesturing towards Jeongguk and asking, “How’s your arm?” 

“Better,” Jeongguk hums. He walks further into the room after Yoongi, shifting his weight between his feet as the tension electrifying the atmosphere builds and builds. 

Jimin turns to look up at him. He flashes Jeongguk a winning smile. “Good,” he grins, “Can’t have bodyguard being injured.” 

Irritation spikes Jeongguk’s blood, but Namjoon (ever the diplomat) interjects before Jeongguk can let out a comeback. 

“What’s the plan?” Namjoon interrupts. He sets the urn on the bench beside him carefully, so carefully that Jeongguk’s burning need to know what’s inside almost sends him sprinting across the room to pry the lid off and get a good look at the contents. 

(He doesn’t do that.) 

(He’s a professional .) 

Yoongi rubs his eyes blearily and grunts over a yawn, “We’ll chart a course to the next Galaxy tomorrow morning. It should only take a day or so for me to jump us there.” 

“Shouldn’t we do it now, then? To just get us out of the danger zone?” Jimin suggests. He looks genuinely worried for a few seconds. And really, Jimin’s got a point-- they should get out of the hot zone as soon as possible, because there’d pretty much be nothing worse than having their ship be hijacked right when they need it the most. 

Despite the fact that Jimin’s point is reasonable, Yoongi seems determined to cling onto his striking dislike of Jimin’s every move. “I don’t think that you get a say in this,” he hisses, crossing his arms combatively. 

Jeongguk wants to sigh, because he knows what’s coming. Being on this ship is like trying to corral a group of small children. Jeongguk vows then and there to never, ever have kids. 

Sure enough, Jimin sasses right back, “I need a say. I have to get to a place with the resources to beat this thing, or just-- somewhere that can help me get what I need to end this.” 

“Wait, why aren’t you going back to Earane, then? The library at the Alchemist’s University is one of the best in the Galaxy,” Namjoon points out before the fight can escalate. Jeongguk could kiss him for breaking the tension. 

Surprisingly, the suggestion has Jimin hesitating. The flash of fear that Jeongguk has only seen in Jimin’s eyes a handful of times is back, stronger this time as it pulls his brows up and together. 

Yoongi jumps on the momentary lull. “Unless there’s a reason that you can’t go back?” he accuses, “Say, for example, you committed genocide and blew it up as well?” 

“I didn’t commit genocide!” Jimin practically shouts back. He flushes from his neck to his ears, bright red and angry at the continuous stream of insults that Yoongi throws his way. 

And for a split second, Jeongguk feels bad for him again. He probably shouldn’t-- scratch that; he definitely shouldn’t-- but world-ending-habits aside, Jimin has arguable been through the fucking wringer. 

So Jeongguk takes it upon himself to walk over to Jimin. He puts a hand on his shoulder, gently pushes him back down in his seat, and says firmly, “We’re not having this fight again, got it?” Jeongguk waits for a nod of confirmation and resolutely ignores the somewhat-excited surprise that races across Jimin’s features. 

“Jimin, is there any reason that you can’t go back to Earane?” Jeongguk continues. 

He catches the way Jimin glances nervously about the cabin. Jimin’s fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his knees, and his throat bobs anxiously when he finally admits, “N-No. I just… would rather not go back there.”

Across the room, Yoongi snorts. “And I’d rather not transport a criminal across the Galaxy.”

“ Hey!”

“Then it’s settled,” Namjoon decides. He nods thoughtfully, considering their path forward. “We go back to Earane as soon as possible. Find Jimin the tools he needs to end this thing. And then we go our separate ways.”

Yoongi finally collapses into the empty seat next to Namjoon. “That’s easier said than done,” he sighs heavily, carding a hand back through his hair. “That’s all the way across the Galaxy, and I basically have no provisions onboard this ship except for some crackers that may or may not be expired and a handful of bandages.” 

“I used those,” Jeongguk reminds him helpfully. 

“....so just the crackers, then.” Yoongi bites the skin of his thumb as he has some internal debate. “We need a pitstop,” he grumbles, clearly hating the idea of having to prolong his Space Adventure with Jimin. 

Namjoon claps his hands encouragingly, announces, “Okay, so, revised plan: we head into the next Galaxy, dock on a planet, get supplies, and then make our way to Earane.” 

“Great plan, Team Jimin!” Jimin cheers with semi-sarcastic enthusiasm. 

Jeongguk watches as Yoongi tilts his head back far enough to let it thump on the window behind him. “I so badly want to murder you,” Yoongi groans with his eyes closed.

Jimin snaps his teeth. “Come at me, Gramps.” 

“I’m willing to bet that we’re almost the same age,” Yoongi volleys back.

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin retorts, “You wish. You’re practically ancie-”

“Could we just, like, not fight right now?” Namjoon interjects forcibly. “I’m too tired to bring you both to your knees.” 

Before Jimin can open his mouth and make the situation worse, Jeongguk affirms, “Namjoon’s right-”

“I know I’m right,” Namjoon grumbles under his breath. 

Jeongguk talks over him. “-let’s just table this blood feud for now, okay? Civility is easy when you try it, I promise.” 

Someone snorts. Jeongguk looks down at Jimin, sure that it was him, but Jimin shrugs in a ‘not me, bro’ kind of way. 

“Please. In the five years you’ve been coming to my bar, you’ve never even asked my full name,” Namjoon calls from across the way. He sounds vaguely irritated, but the corners of his lips are upturned. “Does that mesh with your standard of civility?”

Jeongguk feels irrationally betrayed and more than a little embarrassed. “Uh-”

“It’s ‘Kim’, by the way,” Namjoon cuts him off. 

And Jeongguk honestly can’t help the small laugh that comes bubbling out of his throat. “How unique,” he quips.

In a flash, Namjoon peels one of the black armbands off of his bicep. He hitches one side around his thumb, grabs the opposite end with the fingers of his other hand, and snaps the band to send it sailing straight for Jeongguk’s forehead. 

It smacks into Jeongguk with a resounding ‘thwap!’ 

“Hey!” Jeongguk grouches over the sound of Jimin hooting in the background. He rubs his forehead. “What happened to your show of civility?”

“Fuck civility,” Namjoon tosses back. “That’s been a long time coming.”

Yoongi sighs again, but he looks more than a little amused. “Not that this show of good faith isn’t inspiring, but I’d really like to-”

Before he can finish, something hits the ship.

Or, rather, something smashes into the ships hard enough to send Jeongguk stumbling. The walls of the ship quake and tremor, and the resounding boom that echoes throughout the interior of the craft is loud enough to make Jeongguk’s ears ring for a moment. 

Alarms blare to life, and the oil lanterns inside of the ship switch to cascading the interior in shades of violent, pulsating red. 

Immediately following the collision, nobody moves. Jimin is frozen in place, fingers clenched around the bench’s lip; Namjoon holds his urn to his chest like it’s made of solid gold; Yoongi just sits there, looking so beyond done that it’s almost comical.

And then Jeongguk is quipping weakly, “...what was that about no one messing with us because of your reputation, Yoongi?” 

“I fucking hate kids nowadays,” Yoongi spits under his breath. 

Jimin unclenches his fingers one at a time. “You tell him, Grandpa,” he tries to sass, but his voice is still a little shaky. 

Another boom comes on the heels of Jimin’s voice, louder than the first. Jeongguk trips as the force of the second blast sends him into the opposite wall. His shoulder jars painfully against the polished metal of the interior. It’s the pain that finally makes what’s going on really register. 

They’re under attack. They’re in unprotected space, flying at the edge of the Galaxy, under attack. Jeongguk’s heart rate kicks up a few notches as he pulls himself from the wall. 

“At the risk of sounding too rational, should we maybe do something right now?” Namjoon calls from the bench. He looks between Jeongguk and Yoongi with wide eyes. 

Finally, Yoongi springs into action. He pulls himself to his feet and runs a hand through his hair quickly. “Right. Right ,” Yoongi mumbles before spinning on his heel to point commandingly at Jeongguk. “You need to get in the gunner capsule. Someone’s out there.”

And though Jeongguk knows that it’s the right thing to do, his heart drops all the way to his stomach. Fear grips his chest in its cold fingers as memories of the war come screaming to the surface. Jeongguk hasn’t stepped foot in a gunner’s capsule in years. He’d vowed not to ever again. 

“I-” Jeongguk breathes shakily. He misses the way Jimin shoots him a curious glance. 

“We need someone to shoot, Jeongguk!” Yoongi yells as another boom! rocks the cabin. “And you’re not on this ship for nothing. Go, now!” 

No, Jeongguk thinks as the shadows behind his eyes grow and grow and grow until Jeongguk can’t breathe. He can’t think. 

No, no, no-

“Jeongguk!” Namjoon shouts as the cabin shakes strong enough to send a table crashing to the floor, “This is life or death!” 

You have to, Jeongguk tries to convince himself as his heartbeat thunders in his ears. You have to. Come on, Jeongguk. His palms break into a cold sweat, and they tremor lightly at his sides. But still, Jeongguk can’t move. 

He’s only absently aware of the way Yoongi is running towards the cockpit, Namjoon in tow. Jimin is standing, waving his hands in front of Jeongguk’s face, mouth making words that Jeongguk can’t hear. 

Please. 

And then all at once, the shaking stops. 

Jeongguk’s hearing rushes back just in time to hear Jimin call nervously, “Uh, guys… I hate to point this out, but we may be a little bit too late.” His face blanches. 

In the background, Jeongguk watches, still half-aware, as Yoongi skids to a halt. He turns, looks at something right behind Jeongguk, and curses loudly. Namjoon pales and grips his urn tighter. 

Slowly, Jeongguk convinces his legs to turn him around until he comes face-to-face with--

A man. 

He’s tall, but the confidence that he carries himself with makes him seem even larger than Jeongguk. Emeralds, rubies, and sapphires all dangle from the delicate chains wrapped around the man’s throat; they drip down onto the sliver of skin that’s exposed by the deep, collared ‘v’ of his blood red tunic. Poet sleeves cinch in the man’s cuffs, but Jeongguk sees the bumps under his clothing that indicate he’s wearing wrist jewelry, and lots of it. There’s an orange-ochre sash tied around his waist just above the loose black trousers, and it matches the bandana that pushes against the man’s vibrantly blue hair. 

But what catches Jeongguk’s attention the most-- even more than the person draped over his shoulder with a brown sack tied around their head, and the army of five AI drones crowded behind him-- is the man’s one blue eye. 

It whirs, pupil expanding and contracting as it takes in the main room. Jeongguk has never seen anything quite like it-- it looks like the kind of modification that goes into an AI. He’s never heard of a Human putting modifications into their own body. 

The thought makes Jeongguk’s skin crawl. Almost of their own volition, Jeongguk’s fingers itch closer to one of the golden guns he has strapped to his thigh. 

The man tosses his head confidently and winks with his other chestnut brown eye. He stares Jeongguk down like a predator and tuts, “I wouldn’t do that, love. You don’t look like a quick draw.” 

He speaks Common with round syllables and a lilting cadence. He’s a foreigner, Jeongguk realizes as he scans over the man again, From another Galaxy. 

“I- You’re modified,” Namjoon breathes out, momentarily forgetting to be afraid of the man who’s just forcibly boarded their ship. “Are you-”

“An AI?” the man finishes with a laugh. “Heavens, no. Just one fine specimen of a man and the captain of the SS Yeon-”

“Is that a pirate ship?” 

The man blinks at the sound of Jimin’s voice. 

Jeongguk finds himself turning to look back at Jimin, because now is not the time to be playing tricks- 

“Oh,” Jeongguk says dumbly. “Huh.”

Huh, because just outside of the wall of windows Jimin’s currently pressed up against, there is indeed what looks to be an enormous pirate ship sailing through the night sky. It has more than three masts, and there looks to be a tiger figurehead gracing the bow of the ship. Along the polished wooden deck, AI scurry about, oiling the golden gears that line most of the ship. There are rows of gilded cannons pointing out of the side of the ship, and Jeongguk realizes a little late that cannonballs are what must’ve smashed into Yoongi’s ship.

He curses internally, because now they’re going to need repairs. Which means that they’ll have to have a longer layover than they thought on the next planet. Which means that this whole ‘save the Galaxy from a Demon’ timeline is getting tighter and tighter. 

None of these realizations are particularly helpful in the face of a potentially-dangerous trespasser onboard the ship, but they’re the first thoughts that swirl through Jeongguk’s mind as he drinks in the ostentatious ship outside of the large window. 

The man huffs and puts his hand (the one not currently dedicated to holding the other man over his shoulder) on his hip. “Well, if you’d just let me finish my introduction , I-”

“No, wait, that is a pirate ship,” Jimin asks as he turns to face the intruder, alarmingly unperturbed. He wrinkles his nose in disgust as he takes in the man’s attire. “Why does your spacecraft look like a seventeenth-century pirate ship? Oh, wait-- is this some kind of roleplay?”

The man grins impishly. “Not yet it isn’t, sweetness.”

“Gag me,” Jimin grimaces back.

“I mean, if you’re into it,” the stranger on the ship croons as Jimin mimes shooting himself.

And all of this-- it’s just so surreal that Jeongguk has to force himself not to pinch himself to make sure this isn’t some horrible dream. There’s literally a vagrant on the ship. He’s carrying what appears to be a hostage, is backed by five AI bots that look modified for combat, and has a small sword strapped to his hip.

Yet here Jimin is, trading barbed insults like he wasn’t cowering on the bench by the window a few minutes ago. Like this is a regular occurrence for him. Like he’s enjoying this. 

Jeongguk is yanked mercilessly out of his thoughts by the sudden flurry of movement as one of the man’s AI bots springs into action. Jeongguk steps swiftly out of its path as it goes flying past and straight towards Yoongi to tackle him to the floor. 

“I really wouldn’t bother summoning your magic,” the man sighs from the center of the room. The alarm bells are still ringing, and the pulsing crimson light makes the smile that creeps onto the man’s face even more sinister. “I, Kim Taehyung, am completely unsurprisable.”

Despite himself, Jeongguk feels a snort building in his chest. “Oh, look Namjoon, another Kim!” he mutters.

Namjoon shoots him a look that screams ‘now is not the time, and also-- fuck you’.

Jeongguk swallows back a smirk and clears his throat. He directs his attention back towards the very real threat in front of him, assessing the best way to take down this ‘Kim Taehyung’.

Before he can formulate a plan that doesn’t involve shooting Taehyung (which he’d really like to avoid), the person draped over Taehyung’s shoulder starts wriggling fervently. “Don’t listen to him!” the person calls, voice muffled from the sack on their head, “He’s an idiot!”

Taehyung bounces the person against his shoulder painfully. “You, shut up,” he growls out threateningly. 

Jeongguk has the sudden realization that, despite the AI and the sword and the intimidating demeanor, the man currently in front of him seems to be a complete amateur. If he were a seasoned looter, he’d have picked a much nicer looking ship; if he were a professional of any kind, he’d have known to search belowdecks first . 

He’d also know better than to leave Jeongguk untied. He takes a step forward, one hand out in front of him defensively. “Who’s in the bag?” Jeongguk asks carefully.

Another of the four remaining AI takes a step forward to match Jeongguk. “I think I’ll be asking the questions, thank you very much,” Taehyung sniffs. He looks around, past Yoongi (who’s on the floor struggling), past Namjoon and Jimin, and past Jeongguk. “Speaking of: where do you keep the gold?”

Yoongi lets out what’s either a pained laugh or a pained groan. “Don’t have gold,” he wheezes from under the weight of the AI currently pinning him down. 

Taehyung frowns, but nods. “I’ll let you go for some jewels, then.” 

“Don’t have those either,” Yoongi grits out, face pressed to the cold floor. 

Taehyung looks genuinely taken aback. He looks around again, like he’s just now noticing the stains on the walls and the lack of general upkeep that characterizes Yoongi’s ship. And then, with a tone that conveys deep disappointment and bitter regret, Taehyung tries, “....expensive silks?” 

“Look, we basically have nothing except water and an overabundance of bad attitude,” Jimin gripes from a few feet away.

Balking, Taehyung demands petulantly, “What kind of self-respecting ship doesn’t carry liquid assets with them?!”

Namjoon finds his voice again and furrows his brow. He asks, completely confused, “What kind of weird fucking robber are you?”

The sacked-figure on Taehyung’s shoulder resumes writhing. “He’s a kidnapper!” the person yells out. 

“A kidnapper?” Jeongguk asks, interest piqued. The ship and the AI don’t exactly indicate that Taehyung is a seasoned kidnapper. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Taehyung snaps, jostling the person over his shoulder again, “He’s dangerous.” 

The sack-clad man shouts back, “No, he’s dangerous! Listen to me!”

Jeongguk sighs, exasperation filling him to the brim. This doesn’t feel like a typical robbery, or a robbery of any kind for that matter, and all of the ‘red alert!’ tension drains from his body as he asks tiredly, “Could you maybe just get off our ship? We have things to do. And things to repair now thanks to you.”

“I’m not leaving without gold,” Taehyung grits out. He stands up straighter, juts his chin over to Namjoon’s golden urn. “And it looks like he’s got some. What’s in the jar?” 

Namjoon wrinkles his nose in distaste, all signs of earlier fear completely gone. “Ashes.”

“Ashes?” Jimin asks, pulled into whatever the hell this conversation is. “Like, of a tree?”

“Like from a dead body,” Namjoon says blandly. 

Taehyung gags. “Oh, gross . That’s morbid, man. Who is it?” 

Namjoon clears his throat. “...my daughter.”

Daughter? Jeongguk finds himself thinking in shock. In the five years he’s known Namjoon, he didn’t even know Namjoon had a family. Guilt and shame sink into his bones, sucking on the marrow as Jeongguk realizes the depths of his shittiness. 

“Okay, this has gone from ‘ vaguely unpleasant ’ to ‘ this is actually awful’, ” the man on Taehyung’s shoulder complains. And then he adds, determination dripping from his tongue, “I’m out of here.” 

“How bold of you. Do you really think that you can-” Taehyung only gets halfway through his laughed comment before the man in the bag starts to move. 

With startling speed, the man slung over Taehyung’s shoulder arches his back and then slams his weight forward. It’s enough to send Taehyung tilting backwards with an indignant squawk. As Taehyung falls, his grip loosens enough for the man to use the last of his momentum to flip midair. The man lands on his feet, kneels down, and sweeps one of his legs down and around fast enough to kick Taehyung’s feet out from under him. 

Without so much as removing his blindfold, the bagged-man grabs what looks like an EMP bomb from a hidden pouch along his waistband. With his bound hands, the man throws the charge to the floor and steps on it. A pulse of energy radiates from the small orb as it’s crushed, and the resulting explosion sends all of the advancing AI to the ground as their electronic systems malfunction. 

“I- what- who the fuck are you?!” Taehyung breathes in awe a second before the previously-held-hostage-stranger delivers a swift kick to Taehyung’s temple to knock him out cold. 

There’s not even enough time for Taehyung’s head to loll to the side before the stranger blindly grabs the sword slung through Taehyung’s waistband and cuts himself free. As soon as the man grabs the sack over his head and tugs it off smoothly, Jeongguk knows who he is. 

And with the black baji; the carefully embroidered plum jeogori; the silver decorations adorning the man’s ears, throat, and fingers; and the black leather shoulder and forearm guards, Jeongguk honestly doesn’t know how he didn’t piece it together sooner. Even the strangers fucking hair looks regal. 

Still, the man dusts off the front of his clothes, sends a disgusted look down at Taehyung’s prone form, and announces, “I’m Kim fucking Seokjin. Heir to Her Empresses’s Earthside throne. At your service, asshole.” 

From behind Jeongguk, Namjoon makes a strangled sound. “Kim- Kim Seokjin?” 

Jeongguk’s body moves before he can even process what he’s doing. On pure instinct, Jeongguk kneels, puts one hand over his heart, and bows his head like he was trained to do during his time at the Tactical Force. It’s been a while since Jeongguk last laid eyes on the crown prince or his mothers, but old habits die hard. He resolutely ignores Yoongi’s derisive snort in the background. 

“At ease,” Seokjin grants. Jeongguk rights himself, just a little bit embarrassed at the blatant show of patriotism, as Seokjin glances around the inside of the ship.

He takes in the walls, the beat-up floors, the half-open door to the cockpit, and furrows his brow. “This is a rebel ship,” Seokjin hums in dissatisfaction. “One of you is a rebel.”

Yoongi chokes. “Oh, uh-”

Surprisingly, Seokjin just waves him off. “Don’t sweat it. I don’t really give a shit about your allegiance. Resistance is key to a balanced empire.” 

“You’re an interesting take on royalty,” Jimin comments. He leans against the wall and hooks one ankle over the other like he’s not in the presence of literal royalty. 

Seokjin smiles benevolently. “Thank you, worryingly-small man.” 

Jimin’s cheeks redden angrily, but before he can potentially commit a crime and assault the heir to the Empire, Jeongguk jumps in, “Permission to speak, sir?” 

A guffaw makes its way out of Seokjin’s laugh at the rigid formality. He puts his hands on his hips, smile widening as he drinks in Jeongguk’s straight back and stiff demeanor. “You’re hilarious,” Seokjin laughs. “Please, speak your mind.” 

“What- uh-” Jeongguk starts. He’s understandably a little nervous in front of the son of the two women who made his life a living hell for three years. Licking his lips, Jeongguk nods down at Taehyung. “What are you doing out here with-” Jeongguk toes Taehyung’s twitching hand with his black boot, “ him? ”

Seokjin hums approvingly. With the kind of grace that Jeongguk’s never seen before, Seokjin tugs one of the AI’s bodies on top of another and perches on top of them. Sitting on his makeshift throne, Seokjin explains, “I’m conducting reconnaissance for the Empresses and allowed myself to get ‘kidnapped’ by this lug for a free ride across the unprotected zone. I’m a little insulted that he didn’t recognize me. But regardless, we’ve been getting some interesting reports of some literally world-shattering events out here.” 

He pauses, looks around at the ramshackle crew of Yoongi’s ship. And then slowly, he adds, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” 

“No,” Namjoon immediately denies.

Unfortunately, at the exact same time, Jeongguk affirms, “Yes.” He winces a moment later for potentially incriminating himself, but it’s a bit hard to break three years’ worth of training and lie to a senior officer. 

Jimin, Namjoon, and Yoongi all stare at Jeongguk so hard that he can honestly feel the skin of his neck burning. The alarms still blare overhead, loud and irritating and stressful. 

Seokjin looks unfazed by the news. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and mutters, “Interesting. What do you know?” 

This has got to be the strangest experience of my life, Jeongguk thinks tiredly. Here he is, fewer than three days after meeting Jimin, ten hours after seeing a world end, five minutes after having a pirate wannabe hurl literal cannons into the side of his ship, speaking to the crown prince when all he really wants is to go back to worrying about how to solve his memory-loss problems.

Fate must really have a good time fucking with him. 

All at once, Yoongi jabs a finger at Jimin and blurts accusatively in the near-silence, “He summoned a Demon.” 

“ Hey!” Jimin interjects indignantly. 

“You did. He summoned a Demon, and now we’re trying to get into the next Galaxy to start to undo all of the shit he’s caused,” Yoongi asserts. He shoots daggers at Jimin, who hurls them right back with equal ferocity.

Seokjin’s eyes widen infinitesimally. It’s abundantly clear that this was not what he was expecting. “Huh. That does sound like a pickle,” he muses. His squints at Jimin, assessing, and then adds, “A Demon, though? Ending worlds? That’s new.” 

“I summoned it from a tome,” Jimin admits in defeat, though he doesn’t move from his position against the wall. “It’s… powerful.” 

One of Seokjin’s eyebrows piques up in interest. “Which tome?” 

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Namjoon speaks up. “I’m an Antiquities scholar. If we can get back to Earane, I can use the tome to figure out what Jimin accidentally summoned.” 

Seokjin leans back on the pile of AI stacked beneath him. “That’s quite a plan you’ve got there. Unfortunately, it’s illegal to land on a Class C disaster planet while it’s in quarantine.” He inspects his perfectly manicured fingernails nonchalantly. 

“Quarantine?” Jeongguk prompts. He sends a confused look back at Namjoon, who replies with a ‘fuck if I know’ shrug. 

“Earane’s been put under lockdown until further notice because of recent atmospheric events on the planet,” Seokjin explains. “Torrential acid rain, thunderstorms, cyclones, the whole nine yards. Docking on the planet is considered a Class B felony for as long as the quarantine period lasts.”

Jeongguk tips his head to the side. He’s not too familiar with the breadth of Demons’ powers, but torrential acid rain sounds like a bit… much . Whatever kind of Demon is on Jimin’s trail is strong-- stronger than Jeongguk has ever heard of before. 

And apparently stronger than anything Yoongi’s ever heard of either if the surprised, “Oh, shit,” that leaves his mouth is any indication. 

But then Seokjin is reclining further and grinning, “Fortunately, you happen to have me with you. Me: probably one of three beings in the entire Galaxy who can authorize a journey to the surface of the planet. What a desirable twist of fate for you.” 

“You-” Jeongguk chokes on his words. 

Seokjin’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s just- you’re the heir to the throne. What if something happens to you? It’ll be our heads on the line, and we already have enough problems to deal with at the moment.” It’s Yoongi who explains their current predicament. It’s a good thing, because Jeongguk is still a little too shell-shocked to process anything but single-syllable words. 

Prince. Ship. Planet. 

Seokjin just rolls his eyes. “Please. I can handle myself in a fight better than all of you. Except maybe for The Giant over there.” Seokjin breaks off, squints in an entirely un-princely way at Jeongguk’s visage. He must catch sight of the ink that paints the back of Jeongguk’s neck, because a moment later, Seokjin clicks his fingers and nods. “You’re Tactical Force, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” Jeongguk answers. Single-syllables serve him well. 

“Interesting.” Seokjin trails his eyes up Jeongguk’s form, from his boots all the way to his black-and-gold irises. 

The scrutiny makes Jeongguk squirm, because it seems like Seokjin knows something about him. Possibly something that Jeongguk is supposed to know about himself but that’s lost in the fog of memory loss. 

Trying not to panic, Jeongguk asks, “How so?” 

In lieu of an answer, Seokjin leaps off of his throne of AI. He puts his hands on his hips, announces, “Then, it’s decided. Since I’m technically on a reconnaissance mission to Earane, and since I’m technically your superior officer, I’ll be heading this operation from now on. We’ll call it Operation: Endgame.”

Jimin groans. “That’s an awful name.”

“Operation: Sundown,” Seokjin tries again. He throws his hands open, ready to receive praise. 

“Blegh.”

Seokjin frowns. “Operation: Save the World.” 

“Did you just… say trademark? ” Jimin cringes. “Can we just… not name it?” 

“You’ve got a lot of lip for an Alchemist,” Seokjin huffs, but he doesn’t look entirely displeased at the pushback. “But, fine. We’ll table this discussion for another time.” And with that, Seokjin spins on his heel, hefts Taehyung up onto his shoulder smoothly, and makes his way towards the ladder that leads to the belowdecks area. 

Right as he gets to the ledge, Seokjin stops. He turns. “Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t even asked your names!” he apologizes, “I’m just so used to people throwing themselves at me that it completely slipped my mind.”

The cockiness that seeps through Seokjin’s tone should be annoying, but Jeongguk finds it hard to be irritated at the heir to the throne. “Jeon Jeongguk,” he introduces plainly. 

“Kim Namjoon.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“Park Jimin.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Seokjin offers them a half-nod of respect. He lumbers down the ladder until he’s half-above, half-below. “Now, I’m going to commandeer one of your cabins. I’ll see you all back here in T minus six hours. Someone get to repairing the holes in the hull.” 

Before anyone can mutter anything but vague affirmatives, Seokjin is jumping down the rest of the ladder. And if Taehyung’s head smacks into the top rung a little too hard as they go, well, Seokjin is the crown prince. No one points it out. 

Jeongguk doesn’t know how long he stands there, struck still, because things did not go from bad to worse. They went from bad to abysmal , to ‘you’re so screwed it’s funny’.   And even if Seokjin is a blessing in disguise, especially if he can get them access to Earane, there’s a bigger part of Jeongguk that’s more than a little worried about passing through the Galaxy with the heir to the throne on his ship.

It’s one more person to care about. It’s one more person that he has to worry about keeping alive. 

Jeongguk sighs, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes as the exhaustion from the rest of the day finally sinks its way into his bones. The universe really just can’t let him have a break. He half-wonders what he did so wrong in his past life to deserve this treatment. 

Namjoon’s worried hum brings Jeongguk out of himself. Namjoon nods towards the windows. “So, not to ask a stupid question here, but what exactly are we supposed to do with the fucking pirate ship bobbing outside?” 

And when Jeongguk sighs, he feels it all the way in his bones. 

Truly, he thinks again, Things certainly can’t get any worse than this . 

🌒

Of course, Jeongguk thinks sadly. He stands below deck again in one of the four sleeping quarters. It’s a tight fit for him-- like much of the rest of Yoongi’s ship, the ceilings are low enough that Jeongguk has to half-crouch every time he walks through a doorframe. The walls themselves are the same faded army green as the rest of the hallways, and Jeongguk is pretty sure that the oil lamps in here are even worse than the ones in the outer hallways. 

But what’s really, atrociously sad is the bed. 

How is this possible? Jeongguk mopes internally as he stares down at the child-sized bed in front of him. Who even manufactures beds this tiny?!

He’s been standing in this room for a good ten minutes contemplating his fate. It’s been a handful of hours since the Seokjin-Taehyung explosion. For obvious reasons (read: Yoongi’s murderous stares), Jeongguk was relegated to bunk with Jimin immediately following the disaster while Yoongi tried to figure out how to get rid of Taehyung’s massive ship as quickly as possible. 

But this supposed room feels more like a sardine can to Jeongguk.

From behind him on the other bed, Jimin snorts. “Pft. This absolutely sucks for you,” he snickers in the dim lighting. 

Jeongguk turns around and shoots Jimin a glare. Ignoring the way the meager light from the distant stars softens Jimin’s face beautifully, Jeongguk snaps, “Gee, thanks.” 

With a shit-eating grin, Jimin flutters his lashes. “Anytime, bodyguard.” 

His eyes trace Jeongguk’s form as Jeongguk sits on the edge of the deck of cards that Yoongi calls a bed. Jeongguk sort of wants to cry, because sitting like this, his knees are nearly pressed up to his collarbones. It’s moments like these that make Jeongguk wish he’d been born just a touch smaller. 

Jimin’s intent stare brings Jeongguk out of his cycle of self-pity. He blinks and snaps his eyes up to meet Jimin’s. The intensity of Jimin’s searching gaze prickles along the back of Jeongguk’s neck, but he can’t seem to look away from the vibrant green-grey that swirls in his eyes. 

Jimin stares.

Jeongguk stares right back.

Jimin squints.

Jeongguk finds himself squinting as well. 

Minutes tick by as the atmosphere in the room thickens and contracts tightly in on itself until Jeongguk practically feels like he can’t breathe properly. He can’t even think. Not when Jimin is looking at him like this . 

Jeongguk wants to hate it, but there’s nothing in his chest at the moment, or in his head, or sitting anywhere in his body. It’s like he’s just… empty. If Jeongguk had the presence of mind to be afraid, he would be. 

And then Jimin clears his throat, and the moment breaks with a near-audible ‘snap!’ “...so,” he suddenly offers. 

Jeongguk shakes his head as feeling rushes back into his body. His mind swirls like the Galaxy outside as he’s suddenly hit with several emotions all at once. The fear comes first, and it’s followed closely by confusion. 

What the fuck was that? Jeongguk gasps for air internally. How did he-

“So…?” Jeongguk finds himself parroting in lieu of a proper response. 

The repetition brings a small smile to Jimin’s lips. He pulls his legs up onto the bed (which Jeongguk can’t help but resentfully notice seems to be built for someone of Jimin’s exact proportions) and crosses his ankles. Leaning forward, Jimin grins mischievously, “Okay, it seems like you’re in desperate need of ‘How to be a Human Being: Small Talk Lesson Two’.” 

“Not this again,” Jeongguk groans. He flops back onto his bed with a muffled thump, content to stare up at the ceiling. 

Jimin pays him no attention. “We’ll call it, ‘How to Start a Conversation to Break the Ice’ ,” he hums thoughtfully. 

Wishing he could throw himself out of the windowed wall that’s adjacent to the beds, Jeongguk offers meekly, “Or, you know, we could just sleep.” 

There’s a foreboding squeak from the opposite corner of the room, and Jeongguk only has two brief seconds to steel himself before Jimin’s flopping down on the bed beside him just a few inches away. 

This close, Jeongguk can feel the heat of Jimin’s body. A small tingling sensation along Jeongguk’s cheek tells him that, from inches away, Jimin has his head turned sideways. He’s just looking at Jeongguk. 

Again.

Don’t look, Jeongguk coaches, fighting the urge to impulsively turn and stare Jimin down. Do. Not. Look. 

But then Jimin whispers, “Are you tired?” 

And he’s so close-- he’s so close that the rational, analytical part of Jeongguk’s brain sort of just fizzles out. 

He turns, and comes nearly nose-to-nose with Jimin. Jeongguk’s heart skips, but it’s not out of interest or proximity or anything of the sort. Surprisingly, it’s adrenaline-- the kind of adrenaline that Jeongguk has only experienced in life-or-death situations before. 

All of the oxygen sucks out of the room as Jeongguk replies, “I’ve been up for almost twenty-four hours.”

It’s a non-answer, and it’s one that Jimin immediately scoffs at. “Doesn’t answer the question.” 

With a sigh, Jeongguk finds himself admitting, “No. Not really.” It’s surprising. The words just jump off of his tongue. 

Jimin visibly perks up. All at once, Jimin rises to his elbows and rights himself. He looks down at Jeongguk, grins, “Up for twenty questions?”

“No.” Jeongguk rejects the idea immediately, wrinkling his nose. 

“Fifteen questions?”

“ No.”

“...ten questions?” 

“Good night, Jimin,” Jeongguk hisses under his breath. He rises so fast that Jimin is only halfway through his indignant squawk when Jeongguk lifts him with one arm, crosses the tiny three-foot gap between their beds, and drops Jimin down unceremoniously. 

Jimin lands with a bounce and a frown. “Alright, al right . What about just one question?” Jimin tries again, strangely desperate. And preemptively, just as Jeongguk is opening his mouth, Jimin tacks on hastily, “You get to ask me one in return.” 

And Jeongguk makes a fatal mistake. He hesitates. 

In the half-beat of silence that it takes to sit down, Jeongguk considers. He has questions-- he has mountains of questions about Jimin, all of which he would kill to ask. But something that sounds worryingly like an alarm bell rings in the back of his head. It’s the same kind of intuition that’s kept him alive for so long in his line of work. 

Don’t do it, it tells him, You’ve got enough problems of your own. You don’t even know who you are. Why in gods’ names are you interested in someone else right now? 

Apparently, Jeongguk’s mouth doesn’t seem to catch up to his brain fast enough. “Fine,” he concedes, “But nothing personal.”

“Works for me,” Jimin grins. In a flash, he’s made his way back across the room. Jimin seats himself right next to Jeongguk again. 

Jeongguk is expecting at least a few seconds’ worth of consideration from Jimin, but almost immediately, Jimin leans back on his hands again and asks, “Where do you go when you disappear?” 

“What?” Jeongguk frowns. He scoots away from Jimin towards the foot of the bed. It feels like there’s not enough air in the room. It’s strange how quickly the atmosphere shifts; the way Jimin seems to send the room from tense-to-playful-to-tense again gives Jeongguk whiplash. “What does that mean?” 

But Jeongguk knows what it means. He’s talking about the memories, or at least the few that Jeongguk has. Jimin means when Jeongguk leaves his body, goes somewhere else in his own head. He’s referring to the blood, and the bullets, and the death that still haunts Jeongguk every single fucking day. 

He’s talking about the times when Jeongguk hates himself so much that he makes himself remember, just to remind himself why he hates himself in the first place. 

Jimin tilts his head to the side. Those fucking silver earrings dip down to trace over his collarbones, and Jeongguk hates the way his eyes follow the movement because he should be focusing on something other than how the silver looks against Jimin’s skin. But above all that-- and the way Jimin’s eyes glint, the way his lithe form stretches back casually-- Jimin looks predatory. 

“You zone out every now and then,” Jimin explains, “You did it just now, and you did it earlier with the others. It’s like you’re just-” he breaks off, gestures to the empty air of the room, “-somewhere else.” 

Somehow, someway, Jeongguk finds it in himself to smirk. “That’s pretty personal,” he quips. 

Jimin’s eyebrows pique up in interest. He bites his lower lip, looks down at Jeongguk’s lap meaningfully, and croons, “The alternate question is: ‘How big is your-’” 

“ Okay!” Jeongguk interrupts, clapping his hands together loudly. A flush rises to his cheeks at the realization that Jimin is… flirting with him. Jimin. The same Jimin who stood idly by while planetary destruction chased his heels.

It’s inappropriate. 

It’s awful.

It’s enough to send a little lick of curiosity down Jeongguk’s spine. 

“I just get caught up remembering certain things,” Jeongguk tries to say casually. Almost unconsciously, Jeongguk lowers himself down onto one elbow. He’s more than aware of the way that Jimin’s eyes follow the movement. Jeongguk isn’t quite sure how he feels about it, or how he feels about this whole situation .

Jeongguk doesn’t flirt. Or, at least, he hasn’t had to in quite a while. As much as it makes him sound like the Galaxy’s Biggest Douchebag, Jeongguk has never had trouble getting what (or who) he wants. What’s confusing is that Jeongguk doesn’t even know what he wants. Jeongguk’s going to, what, lie down and flirt at the first tiny hooded look and dirty insinuation? 

Physically, it’s simple. Emotionally, philosophically, and possibly spiritually, it’s more complicated. Every single sign and fact about Jimin’s entire personality is pretty awful. But still-- there’s a pull. And then there’s the whole problem that this goes against Jeongguk’s entire, ‘don’t get involved; don’t get caught up in anyone’s drama but you own’ philosophy that he has going on. 

“About the war?” Jimin asks, reminding Jeongguk of the very reason that he has his entire philosophy in the first place. 

But Jeongguk can’t stop talking. He can’t fucking stop . The words spill out like they’ve been repressed for five years (which they have), cooped up and festering in Jeongguk’s head (which they have ), eager to fall for someone besides bartenders and drunken strangers. 

“Yeah. Every now and then, I get these… flashbacks,” Jeongguk admits, wishing more than anything that he could cut himself off, “I can just see everything again, and it’s hard for me to come back sometimes.”

“Come back?” 

“To myself,” Jeongguk breathes. 

Jimin’s expression softens infinitesimally. “Jeongguk-” 

And the moment Jimin’s look changes, Jeongguk regains control over himself all at once. “My turn,” he blurts out before Jimin can get another word in.

  Surprisingly, Jimin’s eyes widen. He looks genuinely taken aback. “A-Alright.” 

The creeping feeling pings in the back of Jeongguk’s head. He brushes past it, selects his question, and zeroes in for the kill-shot. “How did you escape the Demon?” Jeongguk demands, voice low and purposeful, “The truth, this time.” 

“I-”

Jeongguk senses the half-lie that’s going to come out of Jimin’s mouth. “Seriously, Jimin. This thing eats worlds . How the hell did you make it out alive?” He’s not really expecting a response, given Jimin’s penchant for saying one thing to lie about another. 

Apparently, Jimin is full of contradictions. 

“Uhm,” he starts, fidgeting with the hem of his new shirt, “I honestly don’t remember. I- I was running through the forest, and I tripped. The last thing I remember seeing is the cloud approaching, and then… Nothing. I woke up on the ground full of scratches, but that’s-”

Jimin stares off into the near distance for a minute, and despite himself, Jeongguk finds himself empathizing. Memory loss hits close to Jeongguk’s heart. 

“Why would it leave you alone?” Jeongguk pushes despite himself. He needs to know. Even apart from the way Jeongguk feels something in his chest twinge, he has to know. 

Jimin shakes his head. He turns, looks away from Jeongguk’s relaxed form and out the window. “I have an anti-possession tattoo. Maybe I wasn’t worth it.”

“But why didn’t it kill you?” 

“I don’t know,” Jimin repeats quietly. 

Jeongguk sits up straight as more questions bubble to the surface. “And what did it do after it left you alone?” 

Suddenly, Jimin bursts. “I don’t know!” he exclaims, rising to his feet so fast that Jeongguk jumps up as well. “I didn’t exactly stick around to watch a Demon .” Jimin cards shaking hands through his hair nervously. “Can we just leave it alone now? I don’t w-want to talk about it.” 

Jeongguk’s heartbeat hammers along as the residual effects of adrenaline from Jimin’s explosive movement still race through his veins. There are more questions, but Jeongguk drinks down Jimin’s bitten lips and pale face, and sympathy rises like a knot in his throat. 

“Sure,” Jeongguk says softly. It’s uncharacteristic, but watching the way that Jimin lies down quietly on his bed overtop the covers, Jeongguk can’t bring himself to muster up the hatred for Jimin that Yoongi feels. 

Instead, he stands there uncomfortably for a few tense heartbeats. “...lights on, right?” Jeongguk asks in the silence. 

Jimin closes his eyes, stifles a shudder, but says, “You can turn them off.”

 “Really? Are you sure?” Jeongguk tries to stifle his surprise, but just last night Jimin made such a big deal about keeping the lights on. And now it’s just- nothing. 

But Jeongguk lets it go because it’s late, and Jimin practically has tears rising to his eyes, and despite his exterior and general bad attitude, Jeongguk can’t bring himself to be an asshole to anyone else right now. 

Jimin just nods. “I’m sure.” 

So Jeongguk turns off the oil lamps that hang from the ceiling. In the new darkness, Jeongguk lies down. He looks across the small distance that separates them. 

This isn’t the Jimin that Yoongi hates. 

This Jimin, the one whose eyes glow brighter than the surrounding stars in the moonlight, isn’t the same one who stood by and watched a world end. 

The Park Jimin lying across from Jeongguk staring at him in the darkness can’t be the same one that nearly got into a fistfight with Min Yoongi a few hours ago. 

Can he? Jeongguk thinks. 

Because if-- if this Jimin isn’t the same Jimin that Jeongguk met in the bar, then-

Who the fuck is he? 

Chapter Text

“So, how long are we going to keep him like that?” Namjoon asks. He nods towards Taehyung, who sits with his arms tied behind his back on the opposite side of the oak wood table. 

Seokjin slings an arm around his shoulder and smirks, “What, you’re not into bondage?” 

From the adjacent side of the table, Jeongguk swallows back the amused snort that tries to rise to the surface. He sits there, taking in the scene. Namjoon and Seokjin share the bench to his right, and Jimin sits next to Taehyung on the other side. All of them bicker under the low lighting of the ship’s mess hall, occasionally reaching for one of the possibly-spoiled crackers on the table and choking them down. 

It’s been a somewhat quiet moment so far, apart from the little jolt of shock Jeongguk felt course through his bloodstream when he woke up to the sight of Jimin changing out of his shirt. He’d just caught a glimpse of Jimin’s smooth back, skin glowing gold in the light of the nearby sun. 

Jeongguk ignored the way Jimin’s back muscles tensed in the early morning sky. His brain didn’t even register the fact that Jimin had just a little bit of softness around his hips. Jeongguk didn’t even notice how small Jimin’s waist was compared to his own. He didn’t. 

He didn’t . 

Jeongguk just rolled back onto his other side, stared out the window adjacent to his bed, and forced himself to think about something unappealing. 

Like clowns. Or dirty shoes. 

It worked at the time, but now Jeongguk is sitting here, looking at Jimin in that fucking flowy white shirt, just knowing that Jimin has got one hell of a body underneath all that cloth. Jeongguk hates it-- hates the fact that after last night, seeing Jimin calmer and genuine and honest , there are… thoughts in his head. Thoughts that Jeongguk doesn’t want at all, like what it’d be like to just trace his fingers down the side of Jimin’s neck, or up his sides, or-

Jeongguk shakes his head hard . This is inappropriate, he tells his poor, confused, and entirely-too-hormonal brain. It’s inappropriate, and he’s your client, and he’s got a rotten personality. He accidentally destroyed a world. He doesn't even know who you are. 

And then a quieter, more insidious voice whispers, And even if he did, you still would be a worse person than he is. 

The sound of Namjoon’s voice brings Jeongguk out of the foggy haze of his brain. “It doesn’t feel right to just keep him like that,” Namjoon sighs, like Taehyung didn’t forcibly board their ship and threaten the entire crew mere hours ago. 

Jeongguk comes to the conclusion that Namjoon is too much of a good person, and that it’ll probably come back around to bite him in the ass someday. 

Jimin seems to have similar thoughts. “What, are you a pacifist or something?” he asks, leaning forward to grab another old cracker from the pile in the center of the table. His shirt’s collar is a little too large on him, and when he bends, the smallest sliver of skin is exposed. 

Jeongguk averts his eyes. He swallows. Inappropriate, he reminds himself. 

“Yes,” Namjoon replies stonily. He levels Jimin with a look stern enough to shrivel. 

“Really?” Jimin chokes, clearly surprised, “Looking like that?” He gestures to Namjoon’s biceps that push against the linen shirt he’s wearing and raises a skeptical eyebrow. 

Crossing said biceps, Namjoon frowns. “Are you implying that you can only be a pacifist if you look like a noodle?” he challenges. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes and translates, “He probably meant that he would’ve expected you to look a little less like a fuckable dad and a little more like an old hag.” 

“Oh, gods,” Jeongguk groans as Namjoon visibly reddens. He lets his head fall into his hands and genuinely wonders if he’d survive throwing himself out of one of the small windows that line the silver-grey cafeteria walls. 

Probably not, he decides. But it’s still worth thinking about. 

Taehyung lets out an unimpressed huff. “What?” he complains, shrugging his bound shoulders, “We were all thinking it.”

“So, theoretical situation here, but: say we’re all being attacked in an alleyway, and you’re the only one who can save us,” Jimin proposes. He leans forwards on his elbows, eyes glimmering with mischievous curiosity that Jeongguk does not find alluring at all. “Do you fight?”

Namjoon narrows his eyes. “Who’s attacking us?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jimin shrugs. 

“ Why are they attacking us?” 

“Maybe we robbed them.”

“Well, we sort of deserve to be attacked then.” 

Jimin sighs and pushes back off of the table in exasperation. “Can you please just answer my hypothetical situation like a normal person?” 

“I wouldn’t have let the situation escalate that much,” Namjoon replies, though he looks vaguely irritated that Jimin wasted his time with a half-baked hypothetical scenario that wasn’t elaborate, well-thought-out, or intellectually stimulating. “I’m great at diplomacy, if you haven’t noticed by now.” 

Jeongguk has to bite his lip to keep back the small grin that threatens to rise on his face at the annoyed sound Jimin makes in his throat. “Okay, but what if you had to fight?” he tries again. 

“Again, I wouldn’t let it escalate that much,” Namjoon counters. He reaches for a cracker. 

Seokjin, who’s apparently very invested in this conversation, reaches forward and slaps a hand over the store of crackers before Namjoon can grab one. “Okay, but if you needed to fight, would you-”

“I think it’s admirable,” Jeongguk interjects nonchalantly. 

And then there are eyes on him-- curious eyes-- and Jeongguk regrets opening his mouth so impulsively in the first place. Truth be told, he’s a little surprised at himself, too. But there’s a ring of truth surrounding the declaration that Jeongguk can’t deny. 

So he just clears his throat and digs his heels in. “I mean it. I think that it’s an admirable goal.” 

“ Thank you,” Namjoon exhales. He reaches towards the crackers again.

Seokjin pushes them further away, locks his eyes on Jeongguk. “You were in the Tactical Force,” Seokjin says point-blank over the sound of Namjoon’s indignant protests.

“I was.” Jeongguk already knows where this is going. 

Sure enough, Seokjin asks, “Did you see combat?” His stare flicks back and forth between Jeongguk’s, and Jeongguk is already anticipating the ‘why did you join the military if you don’t like violence’ question that’s sure to come, but Seokjin just waits. 

It takes a few moments for Jeongguk to blink out of the semi-defensive panic that settled in his bones at Seokjin’s first question. “I did. I was stationed in the Outer Reaches during the insurrection,” he speaks into the silence. 

“Shit,” Taehyung breathes out as his eyes widen. “Do you still… think about it?” 

‘Do I still think about it,’ Jeongguk bitches internally, because what kind of bullshit question is that? How can he not think about everything he’s been through, everything he’s done, everyone he’s hurt? 

How can Taehyung honestly doubt that the nightmares from Jeongguk’s past scream in front of his eyes every time he closes them or lets himself fall into the silence of a room for just a bit too long? 

But Jeongguk doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he swallows back his righteous anger and says calmly, “All the time.” 

“What was it like?” Taehyung presses. He tilts his rope-bound torso forward, closer to Jeongguk. 

It’s the curiosity in Taehyung’s voice that makes Jeongguk’s blood boil. “What’s with the fascination to know?” he snaps, glowering at Taehyung with an intensity he didn’t know he possessed, “Watching someone die is hard, but killing someone is just- it-”

He has to break off as his voice cracks. Emotion lands thick and hard in his throat, and Jeongguk tries valiantly to choke it back-- to not show weakness to a group of men he barely even knows. 

“It changes you.” 

Namjoon’s quiet reply carries in the sudden silence of the cold cafeteria. 

Shock ricochets through Jeongguk’s chest as he takes in Namjoon like it’s the first time all over again, because the man sitting in front of him is different than the bartender Jeongguk has been interacting with for the last five years. Or he’s the exact same, and Jeongguk’s just been too self-centered to bother paying attention to anybody but himself. 

“How do you know?” Jimin breaks the silence first. Something bright and curious glints through his eyes, and the sudden intensity makes Jeongguk’s breath hitch in his chest. 

Namjoon shrugs like he didn’t just land a bombshell. “I’m from Sector Five in the Outer Reaches,” he admits plainly. 

“Oh, shit,” Seokjin exhales through his nose in disbelief that Jeongguk feels in his core. “So you lived through the Outbreak, then?” 

With a small smile, Namjoon says softly, “I did.” 

Jeongguk barely manages to restrain his shudder. He’s only vaguely heard of the Outbreak-- he was positioned in the other end of the Outer Reaches during his term of active service, but he still heard the war stories about Sector Five from some of his crewmates. 

He remembers hearing about the plague-- about the blistering skin, the rotting flesh, the dead literally rising from their graves. It had taken years before the Empresses’ Medical Corps managed to make the link between the Outbreak and insufficient hygiene practices in the Outer Reaches, but that had only been the beginning of the problem. 

The poor sanitation measures (largely due to a lack of funding from the Empire) only contributed to the fervor of the rebellion. It’d intensified the insurrection even further . Jeongguk remembers how much worse everything got after the Outbreak in Sector Five, but he can’t even imagine what Namjoon must’ve been through before he relocated to his bar in another Galaxy. 

Jeongguk honestly doesn’t know why he asks, but he tentatively presses, “Did you- Did you know anyone who Turned?” 

Grief floats in Namjoon’s eyes. It coats his face, drips down his neck until his shoulders drop and his chest heaves from the deep sigh he lets out. Sadness lingers on his tongue as he whispers into the quiet, “...my daughter.” 

All of the oxygen goes sucking out of the room. 

Jeongguk feels weightless as Seokjin mumbles, “I’m so sorry. That can’t have been easy.” 

It’s an understatement, but Namjoon has enough grace to agree lightly, “It wasn’t. And I know that I did the right thing in the end, but… I can still remember the look on her face when I-”

He has to break off, but Jeongguk hears the rest of the admission anyway. 

When I killed her.

Empathy, hot and fast and solid, rushes through Jeongguk. You know, he thinks as he looks at Namjoon, You know what it’s like to do the impossible. You’re just like me. 

“So, yeah. That’s why I’m a pacifist,” Namjoon finishes, trying to surreptitiously wipe the tears that trek down his cheeks. “I’ve seen enough violence for one lifetime. I’m not really looking to create any anytime soon.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say after Namjoon closes his mouth resolutely. He wants to offer some words of comfort, something to let Namjoon know that he’s not alone for feeling like this, but no words come out. And the look that Namjoon sends his way seems to say that he already knows what Jeongguk’s thinking. 

Taehyung, apparently horrible at reading the atmosphere, clears his throat. “So, in another hypothetical-”

“Okay, why are you even here?” Jeongguk snaps as he finds his voice again. “You should be in jail or something.” 

Surprisingly, it’s Seokjin who sighs as he waves his hand about loftily, “I don’t trust him enough to leave him on his own. He probably can’t fight for shit, but still. Better safe than sorry.” 

“ Hey!” 

“We’re taking him with us, then?” Jeongguk talks over Taehyung’s interjection, “Down to the planet?” Irritation curls in his stomach. He didn’t sign up for this-- for any of this, actually-- but adding another potential lunatic into the mix of whatever fresh hell this is sounds less than appealing. 

Taehyung’s eyebrows rise in interest. “With you? Where are we going?” he questions, sitting up a little straighter. 

It takes Jeongguk a moment to remember that, while Taehyung was technically present for the debrief on the upper decks, he was unconscious for all of it. It seems like nobody bothered to fill him in either, so Jeongguk takes it upon himself to explain, “We’re getting the ship repaired. Because of the damages that you caused. I feel like it’s important to mention that.” 

Taehyung shrugs. ‘What can you do?’ the gesture says. “Sorry about that. All’s fair in love and looting,” he offers. 

“You didn’t even loot us,” Jimin snorts as he slaps his palms onto the tabletop. “You gave a dramatic monologue and got knocked out. You’re an awful criminal.” 

Jeongguk shakes his head. “You’re not even a criminal at all, are you?” he hazards a guess, sizing Taehyung up again. His appearance is too polished to indicate that he’s any kind of regular looter-slash-cutpurse. 

“You’re all incredibly rude,” Taehyung sniffs. He has the audacity to sound taken aback, like he’s the one who’s been wronged in this situation. “I’m trying to get into the criminal lifestyle. It’s awfully lucrative; better than AI engineering, for sure.” 

Namjoon lets out a little noise of interest as he turns to face Taehyung more fully. “You’re an engineer?” 

“And a damn good one.” Taehyung gestures with his head at the interior of the beat-up ship. He wrinkles his nose at the cracks in the wall and the stains on the floor and adds, “I could even fix up this piece of shit for you. For a price, of course.” 

“I’m pretty sure that Yoongi would sooner eat his own arm before letting you touch this baby,” Jeongguk volleys back. Yoongi is upstairs sitting in the cockpit, steering them down towards the planet’s surface, but Jeongguk has the sneaking suspicion that-- somehow, someway-- Yoongi knows that Taehyung is talking ill of his baby. 

“His loss,” Taehyung grouses brattily, “I could really make some improvements here.” The eerie blue mechanical eye embedded in Taehyung’s head whirs as it takes in the room again. 

Jimin says what everyone is thinking. “That thing is awful.” 

“Hey. This was expensive,” Taehyung complains. He looks affronted. Jeongguk doesn’t know how Taehyung manages to look so put-out and regal when he’s literally tied up and being held hostage, but he does. 

Namjoon tilts his head to the side, ever the curious Antiquities scholar at heart. “What is it?” 

A proud grin splits Taehyung’s face. He puffs up his chest, and the ropes restraining him groan a little bit under the strain. “It’s a three-dimensional scanner!” Taehyung declares with the pride of a parent bragging about their child’s accomplishments, “Lets me see the blueprints and schematics of any piece of machinery it looks at.”

“Woah,” Seokjin blinks, clearly impressed, “I’ve never heard of that kind of tech before.” He leans across the table to get a better look at Taehyung’s face. 

Taehyung pulls back, tutting, “You wouldn’t have. I invented it.” 

“You invented it?” Seokjin parrots back. His eyes shine with newfound admiration that’s probably not entirely warranted. “The Tactical Force could use this kind of tech.” 

He’s right-- Jeongguk knows Tactical Force engineers who would’ve killed to have been able to see the inner workings of their battleships without having to crawl through the vent systems to find and fix the bugs. 

But Taehyung looks vaguely insulted. “Not on your life, handsome. This is my sole property. Also, the installation process is a little- uh- tricky . So I doubt that the Empresses would go for it.”

Jimin jokes, “What-- did you, like, tear out your eyeball with your bare hands?”

He’s gearing up to laugh when Taehyung deadpans, “...yes.” 

Jimin pales. “You-”

“I tore out my eye,” Taehyung explains simply. 

To the sound of Namjoon retching in the background, Jimin accuses, “You’re actually a psychopath, aren’t you?”

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, considering. “More of a sociopath, probably. And besides, it’s not like the improvement wasn’t worth it.”

“You did that- yourself?” Jeongguk really wishes that he had the self-restraint to not ask the question, but he is a PI at the end of the day, and his curiosity gets the better of him. As usual. 

Grinning proudly, Taehyung beams, “That I did.” And then he rakes his gaze over Jeongguk in a way that Jeongguk does not appreciate and offers, “Would you like one? You seem like the type to enjoy pain.” 

“No, thanks,” Jeongguk immediately denies, sheer regret coursing through his chest. 

“You ever been shot before?” Taehyung continues, completely unphased by the rejection, “It feels like that, but, like-- on your face. And it’s more of an ‘outward’ motion, really.”

Namjoon groans, “ Please stop talking.”   

“Seconded,” Jeongguk agrees. But, unfortunately, he can’t quite help himself from replying, “And yes. I have been shot. A few times, actually.” 

It’s true-- Jeongguk has the scars on his right side and left thigh to prove it. It was during a ground mission gone wrong. Jeongguk honestly doesn’t remember much of it apart from the momentary pain and the sudden cold, but to be honest, he’s not actively trying to remember. Something tells him that recalling what happened would be infinitely worse than staying in the dark. 

He doesn’t miss the irony that he -- a Human with memory loss-- wants to forget something. 

“Gods,” Seokjin laughs suddenly, “You Tactics people are crazy.” He clicks his fingers as he enthusiastically recounts, “I knew a guy who flew his ship straight into a rebel craft just to finish the mission. You’ve all got balls of steel or something.” 

Jeongguk feels sick. 

Seokjin is laughing-- Taehyung too, actually-- actually laughing at the story. Jeongguk doesn’t know how to tell them that it’s not funny, that it’ll never be funny, that people killing themselves at the behest of their commanding officers will never be humorous or attractive or glamorous . 

He doesn’t know how to convey the scars that witnessing that kind of thing leaves on one’s soul, so Jeongguk chooses not to say anything at all. 

He also chooses not to notice the semi-worried, entirely uncharacteristic look of concern that Jimin sends his way. 

Jeongguk hardens his face, keeps the emotion clean off of it, and faux-chuckles, “Uh-huh. That’s us. Crazy.” Naively, Jeongguk hopes that that’s the end of Seokjin’s questioning. 

Really, he should expect worse at this point. 

“How did you even get into the lifestyle if you’re violence-averse?” Seokjin asks, “Were you recruited, or are you from that specialized training planet?”

Jeongguk knows the planet Seokjin is talking about-- Acheron. It’s been around for as long as the Empire has been up and running. It’s the planet that produces most of the Empire’s best soldiers. The people who live on Acheron follow a strict code of conduct, embrace duty, the whole nine yards. 

Of course, Jeongguk’s only heard about Acheron. He’s never been there, and as far as he can recall (which admittedly is next to nothing) he doesn’t remember being told that he came from there. 

But, of course, Jeongguk can’t just outright say, ‘See, I don’t actually remember who I am or where I’m from,’ so he awkwardly mutters, “Oh. I was- uhm. I-”

And for the first time in a while , the gods seem to feel some kind of sympathy for Jeongguk’s ever-worsening predicament. 

The ship rumbles to life around them, walls shaking as Yoongi pilots the spacecraft through the planet’s upper atmosphere successfully. It’s a blessing, because the distraction means that Jeongguk can neatly segue his way out of the conversation. 

“Oh, shoot,” Jeongguk bitches a little too vehemently, “Looks like we’re about to land. We should really get above deck and strap in before we’re thrown around the cabin.” 

He sweats nervously as the other four men eye him warily. Or, in Seokjin’s case, skeptically. Surprisingly, Jeongguk’s strong suit has never been lying-- he’s always been more of a ‘confront the problem head on and deal with the consequences later’ kind of person, but right now he just bites his tongue and hopes for the best.

When the rumbles that overtake the ship increase in magnitude, Seokjin rises from his feet and signals for the others to do the same. He levels Jeongguk with a look that promises a return to the conversation later, but capitulates, “Alright.”

It’s all Jeongguk can do to not collapse into a relieved puddle onto the ground. He makes himself nod resolutely, back stiff and straight as Namjoon and Seokjin hoist Taehyung up and off his feet and corral him towards the ladder in the middle of the room. 

As Jeongguk waits behind the traffic jam that ensues from the others trying to push Taehyung up the ladder by his ass, something prickles along the back of his neck. Jeongguk doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s Jimin staring holes into him.

He feels the familiar heat of Jimin’s stare. It’s almost worrying how Jeongguk recognizes the feeling so easily now, but he tells himself not to dwell on it. 

Jeongguk reassures himself that Jimin can’t see past his facade, just like he whispers inside of his head that he doesn’t care about Jimin at all.

(Not his lips, or his skin, or his softness.)

(Not his sharp tongue and penchant for yelling.)

More than that, Jeongguk lies. He fibs as he thinks, This is why it’s better to keep everyone at an arm’s distance. It makes things easier. It’s better, because this way when they walk away, you’ll be alright. 

But Jimin’s intent gaze tells a different story. 

I’m interested, Jeongguk thinks he hears Jimin whisper in his ear, I’m watching. 

Jeongguk shakes his head. 

He heads towards the ladder, pulling himself up and into the darkness that leads towards the upper deck, running from the things that Jimin makes him think.

🌕

The planet that Yoongi chose to land on is… strange . 

Jeongguk walks with the five others through the swarm of bodies that chokes up the pedestrian-only streets. He darts his eyes nervously about the Fae and Others pressing against him; there are more individuals here than Jeongguk has ever seen in his life. And though he usually likes crowds, there’s something about this particular populace that makes his skin crawl.

Maybe it’s the way they’re all dressed up in black and white finery. Glittery jewels drip from their throats, antennae, horns, and ears. Ruffles and bowties dot the necklines of those individuals who have necks. There’s an air of splendour in the atmosphere that makes Jeongguk feel like he’s out of place-- like he’s suffocating, even though the surface of the planet has the optimal oxygen-to-nitrogen-to-hydrogen ratio. 

Or, more likely, maybe it’s the diamond dome that encloses the city. Rays of starlight shine through the opalescent surface, refracting as they bounce off of the polished city streets and bend in the night. 

Through the dome, Jeongguk can make out the deep purple of the last dregs of sunlight that still do their best to cling to the horizon. He can also see the red sands that whip around outside of the dome; the sands appear to make up the rest of the planet, all other planetary resources having been diverted to this one particular metropolis. 

It makes Jeongguk more than a little sick that the materials harvested went towards this: faded blue and dusty red neon lights that flash from storefronts in the near darkness; large signs that rise towards the underbelly of the dome, advertising anything from drinks to lingerie; artificial gold-metal stars that hang from the ceiling on gilded cables; speakers that Jeongguk can’t see that blare trumpeted, cacophonous jazz at full volume. It’s excess to the max. 

“What is this place?” Jeongguk mutters as he forces his way through the swell of the crowd, doing his best to stay close to the others. He brings up the rear of their group, just behind Jimin, and bares his teeth at an incoming Lechuza that gets just a bit too close. 

From the front of the pack, Seokjin calls back, “We’re on Gelavs . It’s one of those boom-and-bust planets that straddles the divide between the two Reaches.” He has to shout to be heard over the noise, and Jeongguk cranes his neck to hear better. 

“Oh, so that’s why everybody here looks like new money,” Taehyung drawls from Jimin’s side. Though his arms are still bound, Taehyung does a remarkably good job at gesturing towards the surrounding crowd with his immobile shoulders. “Nobody here has any fashion sense.” 

“Please,” Yoongi scoffs, “You dress like a vintage pirate.” 

Jeongguk ignores the quibbling that ensues in favor of surveying the crowd again. They all seem to be headed somewhere, pushing in one direction towards something in the near east. “Is it always this crowded?” he yells back to Seokjin, “Or did we walk into some kind of festival?”

“I don’t think it’s a festival. Their Lunar calendar doesn’t celebrate solstices and equinoxes,” Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. 

Humming in dissatisfaction, Jeongguk follows the group off of the main thoroughfare and onto a slightly-smaller sidestreet. It’s substantially quieter off of the main drag, but Jeongguk’s ears still ring from the clamor of the rabble on the adjacent street. 

Yoongi stops them after a few more moments of walking, nodding up towards a sign he must’ve seen from the other avenue. He rolls up the sleeves of his pressed linen shirt like he’s preparing for battle and gestures to the sign. “What about this place?” 

‘Repairs n’ Stuff’ is what the sign reads. But apart from the lackluster neon sign, the actual facade of the establishment is embellished with golden filigree and embedded opals. It looks more like a hotel entrance than a ship repair shop. 

Jimin inhales through his teeth. “It looks expensive.”  

It looks beyond expensive actually-- like the kind of place that charges you to breathe its air. A tire from this place probably demands a big sacrifice. A lifelong secret, or a guilty pleasure, or a finger would probably pick up the tab. 

Jeongguk shudders. 

Seokjin, however, looks undeterred. “I’m the prince,” he reminds them all with a smug grin, adjusting his jeogori, “I don’t get charged for anything.”

“See, this is why the rebellion happened,” Yoongi mutters under his breath at the same time that Taehyung breathes, “Wow, you just got infinitely more attractive to me.”

“Shut up,” Seokjin huffs at Taehyung. The little bit of color that rises to his cheeks takes most of the sting away from his words, but he maintains his composure like the royalty that he is. 

Unfortunately, Taehyung doesn’t fail to notice. His smile widens. “I can feel myself falling for you,” he sing-songs, projecting confidence even while physically bound. 

“Let’s focus, alright?” Yoongi interrupts to break the weird tension that Taehyung summoned. “Seokjin, you’re coming with me to pay. Namjoon, stay and watch the kids while we find a qualified engineer to take a look at the ship.” 

Jeongguk furrows his brow. “ Kids? That’s mildly offensive.”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi throws back, “And you’re mildly annoying. It is what it is. I don’t trust any of you farther than I can throw you, so until we get back: nobody breathes, nobody moves, and nobody thinks. Capisce?” 

He doesn’t wait for a reply. Yoongi turns on his heel, grabs one of Seokjin’s wrists in his hand, and tugs him through the gemstone-lined revolving door and into the foyer of the ‘Repairs n’ Stuff’.

Jeongguk, abandoned to the obnoxious noise of the alleyway, looks at the revolving door longingly. Some sick sense of intuition tells him that pushing past the doors and sticking with Seokjin and Yoongi is the best option here, but before Jeongguk can decide whether to follow the bit of doubt that clouds his mind, Taehyung asks suddenly:

“Hey, just curious here, but- where the fuck is my ship?” He looks around the alleyway as though his enormous pirate ship somehow followed them through the small entry-port that led into the glass dome. 

Namjoon crosses his arms, leans back against the exterior of the building, and hums, “I think Yoongi parked it in the lot outside in the sands where we left his ship.” 

Taehyung gasps, affronted. “Exposing it to the elements?! Did he at least pay for valet?”

“Probably not,” Namjoon deadpans. 

Gasping louder, Taehyung almost screeches, “And where are my AI?” 

Jeongguk honestly doesn’t know how Taehyung has survived so long-- whether it was by overly-helpful acquaintences saving his ass or just sheer dumb luck, he’ll never be certain-- but it’s becoming abundantly clear to him that though Taehyung may be a gifted engineer, he appears to have the observational skill of a walnut. 

“Yoongi ejected those from the airlock,” Jeongguk huffs as he reminds Taehyung of this morning’s events. “You hosted a funeral. You cried. How do you not remember this?” 

Taehyung’s face falls as he remembers. “Oh. I must’ve blocked the trauma out. Those were expensive.”

“Should’ve thought about that before you invaded our ship,” Jeongguk quips. 

“You also should’ve bought an insurance package for them,” Namjoon nods sagely, “Only uneducated cretins don’t insure their AI.” 

Jimin drawls sarcastically, “Solid corporate burn, Joon.” He examines his perfectly manicured fingernails under the soft glow of the lights that line the building’s exterior, just a bit too close to Jeongguk’s side for his liking-- but when Jeongguk subtly sidles away, Jimin slides just a tad closer. 

It has to be on purpose. 

Apparently finished mourning his losses, Taehyung surveys the surrounding alleyway. From where they’re positioned, the main artery of the metropolis is still visible. The crowd continues to stream down the walkway towards whatever destination lies in the distance. 

“Where should we go while we wait?” Taehyung asks thoughtfully. He crosses to the other side of the enclosed space, reaches up, and grabs a multicolored flyer from the wall. For a few seconds, Taehyung’s eyes scan the page as he reads aloud, “ ‘Visit the Casino Moirai and play The Fates. See your future. Embrace your past. Reinvent your present. Open tonight only.’” 

Taehyung looks up at them, something mischievous glimmering behind his eyes. “You hear that? Open tonight only. That must be where everyone is going. And therefore, that should be where we’re going.”

“I don’t think that-” Namjoon starts, and then stops. “Hey, wait a minute-- how did you get out of your ropes?”

And apparently, Jeongguk also has the observational skill of a walnut, because it’s only once Namjoon gestures towards the pile of ropes left discarded in the center of the alleyway that Jeongguk realizes Taehyung had been using his hands. 

Jeongguk blames his absentmindedness on Jimin and his irritating need to be irrationally close to Jeongguk.

“I’m sexually adventurous, and you tie ropes like a newbie.”

Jimin snickers behind his hand as Namjoon reddens visibly. “I’m not a-”

Taehyung cuts him off with a smirk. “Sure, stud,” he coos. “So where did we land on this whole ‘casino’ thing?” 

“No,” Jeongguk decides for all of them. He draws himself up to his full height and looks down at Taehyung, who frowns so deeply that Jeongguk is genuinely concerned that his lips are going to fall off his face and down to the floor. 

“I am instead going to interpret that as ‘go right ahead, Taehyung. Live your best life.’ ” he harrumphs moodily.  

With that, Taehyung nods, readjusts the necklaces dripping along his throat, and starts to head back towards the mainstreet. 

Before he can get more than a few steps away, Jeongguk surges forward. He catches the back of Taehyung’s collar easily, hooking his fingers into the material to tug Taehyung back towards the group. The motion pulls on the bandages covering his forearm uncomfortably, but Jeongguk ignores the pain. 

“No way,” Jeongguk hisses as he spins Taehyung back around. 

From Jeongguk’s side, Jimin lilts, “What, you don’t want to have any fun, sugar? We've got a lot of time to kill.” 

Namjoon approaches, seemingly able to sense the fact that Jeongguk is gearing up to shake that infuriatingly alluring pout right off of Jimin’s face. “We’re supposed to stay here,” Namjoon reminds them. He nods back towards the doors that swallowed Seokjin and Yoongi whole. 

“Do you always do what you’re told?” Taehyung snaps, hands on his hips combatively. “What a bottom.” 

“Okay, what is your issue ?” Namjoon spits in a rare display of outright anger. 

Jeongguk watches as Taehyung’s expression switches from irritated to saccharinely sweet in point-two seconds. “How much time do you have?” he croons. 

“C’mon, Jeongguk, who knows how long they’ll be in there doing business? We can afford to spend a couple of hours exploring,” Jimin tries again, suddenly much closer. He’s practically leaning onto Jeongguk’s arm-- and yeah, it’s definitely on purpose at this point-- and Jeongguk has to physically shove Jimin back a step, even as something curls a little in the pit of his stomach.

Stop it, Jeongguk wills his body to restrain itself. Contain yourself. It’s just been a while. You don’t even like Jimin.

Ignoring the annoyance that clouds Jimin’s brow, Jeongguk denies again, “No. That sounds like an awful idea, because what if something happens and we’re too far away to help? We’re foreigners here; we can’t just leave them at a glorified, intergalactic gas station.” 

Jimin’s eyes darken into that look-- the one that leaves Jeongguk empty and thoughtless from the force of it. “I don’t live in ‘what ifs’,” Jimin’s voice seems to boom in the alley, and all eyes snap to him, drawn by the power of his words.

But then, less than a few heartbeats later, Jimin’s demeanor changes again. It softens, shrinks, folds in on itself until Jeongguk can feel himself inhaling shakily. 

“And besides,” Jimin continues like nothing’s happened, “Seokjin is a prince. Yoongi is an Alchemist. They’ll be fine . Come on, bodyguard. Live a little.” 

Jeongguk’s nose wrinkles at the nickname even as his heart struggles to find a regular rhythm in his chest after Jimin’s display. From the way Taehyung and Namjoon look equally as off-put, Jeongguk guesses that they feel the same. 

The thought sticks with him, because then it isn’t just him that gets like this in Jimin’s presence. It’s odd, because there’s something about Jimin that Jeongguk can’t quite place. 

Still, Jeongguk forces himself to reply, “I’m good.” 

“Boring. I did not sign up for this trip just to be stifled,” Taehyung complains, bouncing back quicker than anticipated. 

Namjoon protests. “You didn’t sign up for this at all. You forced your way in.”

“That’s what he-” 

“Finish that and I will skin you alive,” Jeongguk threatens, fully intending on following through even considering his preference for avoiding physical conflict. 

Taehyung waves off Jeongguk’s posturing. “Say what you want, but I’m with Jimin,” he decides, turning on his heel again, “You two can stay here and suck it.” 

Jeongguk guffaws at Taehyung’s foolish confidence. “Not a chance. There’s no way that I’m letting you out of my-”

He’s so caught up in what he’s saying that Jeongguk honestly doesn’t even see Jimin coming closer until it’s too late. 

Faster than Jeongguk can anticipate, Jimin stands on his tiptoes, grips Jeongguk by his shoulders, and tugs him down at the same time that he brings his knee up to slam into Jeongguk’s crotch. 

Jeongguk wheezes, doubling over in pain as Jimin skips away merrily. Hey! Jeongguk tries to call, but he can’t let out anything other than agonizing breaths of air as his entire body goes into shock-mode. Through the tears clouding his vision, Jeongguk can just make out Taehyung and Jimin sprinting together back towards the main thoroughfare, presumably heading to the casino. 

“You okay there?” Namjoon asks, clearly trying to keep laughter from bubbling up and out of his throat. 

If looks could kill, then Jeongguk’s glare would have Namjoon drawn and quartered on the ground. “ Yes,” he hisses even though his jaw is clenched tightly and he’s still half-doubled over in pain. 

All of the confusing feelings Jeongguk thought he had for Jimin get crumpled up and tossed into the wind. It becomes abundantly clear to Jeongguk that he’s going to absolutely murder Jimin once he gets his hands on him, hired PI-slash-reluctant-bodyguard or not. 

He’ll give Jimin what he deserves. 

Just as soon as he can stand up straight again. 

🌔

Do you fight?

Doesn’t matter.

Maybe we robbed them. 

I don’t live in ‘what ifs’

Oh, c’mon, Jeongguk.

You don’t believe in fate? 

So, no.

No need to wax poetic. 

You could’ve just said.

🌓

When Jeongguk comes to a halt at the top of the cliff that the casino stands proudly on top of, the only thought that races through his brain is, Oh, my gods. It’s appropriate, because for all of the extravagance and panache he’s seen on this gods-forsaken planet thus far, this building has to take the cake. 

The casino itself is perched delicately atop the mountain, surrounded by gold-plated walkways that circle around the front to shepherd the swelling crowd through its doors. It’s dark outside, but the glimmering lights that shoot up from the ground seemingly out of nowhere illuminate the casino’s crimson red and whorling silver facade. 

Jeongguk thinks that he sees gargoyles, actual gargoyles , perched on the edge of the casino’s turrets. He doesn’t want to go inside-- Jeongguk really doesn’t want to go inside, not in the least because of the thumping music that bleeds out of the casino and into the night. 

“Do we have to?” Namjoon asks, voicing Jeongguk’s thoughts perfectly. 

And as much as Jeongguk wants to say ‘fuck it’, he stands a little straighter, nods determinedly, and follows the push of the crowd as they funnel into the inside of the casino. 

The moment he steps inside, Jeongguk thinks again (somewhat unoriginally), Oh, my gods. 

Jeongguk is immediately assaulted by the casino’s lavish interior. Maroon red carpet coats the entire floor, save for a small section near the entrance, and the lights are surprisingly low. The ceiling itself is made of glass, and Jeongguk thinks that he sees shapes up there walking around and looking down at the masses below. Even through the haze of smoke that seems to cloud the area, Jeongguk notices the expensive red bottoms of the shoes that clink about on the glass above his head. 

That must be the VIP section, Jeongguk muses, more than a bit overwhelmed by the interior. 

He forces himself to look around as he’s hustled through the doors by the crowd. 

Rows and rows of single-pull gambling booths and pachinko machines stretch far back into the casino-- too far back for Jeongguk to see the end of. To his right, there’s a series of craps tables arranged in a loose semicircle. An eight-armed Other mans all of the stations at once. To Jeongguk’s left, blackjack and rummy tables abound. He thinks he even spots a billiards table beyond all the writhing bodies. 

The music inside is so much louder than it was outside; it thumps in time to the people and Fae stamping their feet and shimmying their hips on the black and white checkered dance floor that the entrance opens right into. As the bass thumps from seemingly everywhere, Jeongguk watches as the crowd that he entered with are literally transformed in front of his eyes.

“What the fuck ,” Namjoon breathes, barely audible over the pounding music. 

Jeongguk sympathizes, because as he watches, the plain black and white hues of the crowd’s clothing melts away. In their stead rise fuschia pinks, startlingly bright yellows, blues of all intensities, and purples so vibrant that Jeongguk physically has to look away. 

It’s with a jolt of shock that Jeongguk sees that his plain black jumpsuit has been turned a rich shade of crimson. “The entrance must be charmed,” Jeongguk calls loudly to Namjoon, watching with wide eyes as Namjoon’s white linen shirt shimmers as it’s turned a dappled shade of emerald. 

“This is awful,” Namjoon grimaces, “Actually awful. I’d cut my leg off before coming here again. What’re your thoughts on just cutting our losses and leaving them both here?” He grabs Jeongguk by the elbow to keep them together as they’re swept away by the current of the crowd. 

They’re shepherded past the writhing bodies on the dance floor, curved around several ringing slot machines, and around a particularly disgruntled poker player. “I’d love to,” Jeongguk admits, wrinkling his nose, “but the end of the world sort of hinges upon whether or not Jimin survives long enough to seal the Demon away. I do, however, fully support dumping Jimin’s ass off as soon as the mission is over.” 

There’s a pang of something unfamiliar in Jeongguk’s chest just then, but he chalks it up to the anxiety of being crowded into one space with thousands of other bodies pressed close to his own. Jeongguk’s skin feels like it's crawling from all of the wayward stares he’s getting-- even under the semi-darkness and surrounded by chaos, the way Jeongguk towers a solid head or so above most of the other patrons draws attention. 

“Great,” Namjoon agrees with a wholehearted nod, “Because I-” He’s cut off as a waiter materializes from seemingly out of nowhere. It’s a light blue Spectre that levitates a tray of multicolored drinks extending out for them to take. 

Namjoon smiles politely as he brushes past. “No, thank you,” he denies, watching judgmentally as Jeongguk cherry-picks a glass of alarmingly blue alcohol off of the tray, “I really don’t want to go through something like this again in my lifetime.” 

With an empathetic ‘hmmm’ of agreement, Jeongguk tilts his head and knocks back the drink in one go, because there’s no way he’s making it through this casino-hell sober. It goes down easy and tasteless, and Jeongguk is confused for half a second before the effects hit. 

It tastes less like a buzz and more like a feeling. Jeongguk is transported for a second. It’s like he’s standing on a beach somewhere, feeling the sting of saltwater in his eyes, breathing in the air that’s heavy with the promise of an incoming thunderstorm, listening to the crashing waves as they grind against the cliffs to his right. He can taste the salt in the air. Jeongguk can hear a bird of some sort cawing in the background. 

Heart skipping, Jeongguk jolts back into reality. He scrutinizes the glass. Along the front, the word ‘Earth’ is written in lavish silver font. 

It’s a good thing that Jeongguk’s never planning on coming back here again. The tingling feeling that the enchanted drink leaves in his muscles is addictive. 

And though his tongue is suddenly a bit too heavy for his mouth, Jeongguk asks, “Do you see them?”

Namjoon snorts. “Why the hell are you asking me? You’re the one who’s seven feet tall,” he retorts, tugging Jeongguk a bit more forcefully to keep them from getting separated. Jeongguk notices the semi-concerned look that Namjoon casts at him through the side of his eye, but Jeongguk pretends that he doesn’t. 

“Why does everybody on this team need to be so mean?” Jeongguk grumbles under his breath. It’s strange that the drink is hitting his system so hard. He feels fuzzy around the edges, like he does after eight or so regular shots. The alcohol content in the ‘Earth’ cocktail must be insane. 

“You’re one to talk,” Namjoon retorts, standing on the balls of his feet to survey the rest of the crowd. He looks towards the direction that the crowd is moving in, craning his neck, and announces with a lick of surprise, “Oh, look. There they are.” 

Jeongguk follows Namjoon’s pointed finger with his eyes.

There, over by the circular area that encloses three enormous gambling machines, Jeongguk can just make out the bobbing head of bright blue hair that belongs to Taehyung. At his side, leaning against the polished gold railings that keep the arena closed off is Jimin. 

“Right by the biggest machines,” Jeongguk huffs under his breath, “Typical. I wonder why we didn’t check by the shiniest objects for them first.” 

Namjoon picks up the pace, pushing and elbowing his way through the crowd as Jeongguk stumbles along clumsily behind him. 

This isn’t good, Jeongguk thinks lazily, What if something happens? Shouldn’t you be- He can’t think of the right word. 

...patient? 

Precarious? 

Prepared! Jeongguk’s drunk brain shouts victoriously as he finds the right word. 

“Hey!” Namjoon shouts as they arrive at the golden railing. 

Taehyung whips around so quickly that Jeongguk lets out an honest-to-gods drunken giggle. “Oh, shit,” Taehyung curses, grabbing Jimin by the hand. “Go, go, go!”

Reflexively, Jeongguk’s hands dart out. He’s barely aware of the way he snatches Taehyung by the back of his collar, how he hooks an arm snugly around Jimin’s small waist, or the murmured, “Where do you think you’re going?” that leaves his lips. 

In his hold, Jimin seems to redden visibly. “What’s wrong with him?” he asks Namjoon, though his gaze doesn’t leave Jeongguk’s face. 

“He’s drunk,” Namjoon seethes, “And we’re leaving.” He motions for Jeongguk to start lugging the two of them back towards the entrance.

Jeongguk obliges. 

“But we haven’t even done anything yet!” Taehyung protests. He wriggles to get out of Jeongguk’s iron grip, but it’s no use. 

Blinking, Jeongguk half-slurs, “I think that’s the point. Preventative measures and all that.” He tugs Jimin closer to him and shoves away through the crowd, moving against the current in a way that leaves everybody he passes with an annoyed frown on their face. 

Taehyung is having none of it. He kicks his legs out, claws at Jeongguk’s hand, and flails his arms about like Jeongguk is going to sacrifice him in a volcano instead of take him outdoors. 

“ Stop that,” Namjoon scolds, eyes narrowed as he seethes, “You’re going to-”

One of Taehyung’s wayward limbs slaps a nearby Pixie straight across the jaw. Her pink head goes whipping back painfully, and a sharp cry of anger leaves her lips. 

“...hurt somebody,” Namjoon finishes redundantly. 

“ Watch it!” the Pixie shouts in their direction. She’s small but seems to have more muscle mass than Jimin and Taehyung put together. “I’m just trying to watch the raffle, and you and your fucking giant friend here come along and-”

Maybe it’s because Jeongguk is drunk, or maybe it’s because the Pixie is literally half of his height, but Jeongguk finds himself tilting his head curiously. “The raffle?” he asks innocently.

Jimin squirms in his vice-like grip, but Jeongguk doesn’t even notice. He’s too focused on the surprised look that overtakes the irritation on the Pixie’s face. This clearly wasn’t the reaction she’d anticipated. 

Rubbing her jaw, the Pixie replies, somewhat dazed, “Oh. Yeah. There’s going to be a raffle for who gets to pull The Fates machines tonight. It only happens once per solar year.” She gestures back towards the three enormous machines in the center of the arena, and for the first time, Jeongguk really registers what’s standing in the center of the circle.

There are three slots, each of which looks to be at least ten feet tall. Most of the machines have a chrome finish polished so brightly that it almost hurts to look at them. There’s a lever on the right side-- the knob at the top of each is made of what looks to be solid diamond. On the left side just adjacent to the main reel is a coin slot. 

Each of the three machines has a name plate. From left to right, Jeongguk reads the names of the machines. 

Clotho.

Lachesis. 

Atropos. 

Jeongguk swallows hard. It could be the liquor in his bloodstream, but the machines themselves radiate a kind of energy-- the kind that makes the hairs on the back of Jeongguk’s neck stand at attention.

Pay attention, Jeongguk thinks he hears someone whisper in his ear, This is it. 

Taehyung doesn’t seem to have any of Jeongguk’s reservations. He looks up at the machines, mouth open in awe, and gasps, “I would very much like to pull the levers.” 

“You should,” the Pixie laughs contemptuously, “The Fates are magic. They predict the future.”

Yeah right, Jeongguk thinks.

Or maybe he says it, because then the Pixie is running a hand over her shaved head in annoyance. “A skeptic, huh? Just watch. The Fates have never been wrong so far.”

“How do these work?” Namjoon asks. Jeongguk looks over, catches the little bit of curiosity beginning to burn behind Namjoon’s eyes. It’s bad; it means that the scholarly ‘I need to know how this works or I’ll die’ part of Namjoon’s brain is taking over. 

Jeongguk knows in that instant, intoxicated or not, if he doesn’t somehow manage to get Namjoon out of here, he’ll lose him to the thrall of the machines too. 

“Nam joon-”

Namjoon waves him off. He watches the Pixie with rapt attention as she explains, “The Fates predict the future. Do you see the reel?” She stops, waves towards the reel in the center of each console that’s currently black. “Those panels show a possible future. Each machine shows a different potential future. Clotho, the one on the left, predicts a future with thirty-percent accuracy. Lachesis predicts a future sixty-percent likely to occur, and Atropos predicts the most likely future.” 

“So, it’s a guessing game as to which comes true,” Namjoon hums. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, clearly considering something. “What’s the point then? Why show you three potential futures if you don’t get to know which will come true?” 

Almost as though she’d anticipated the question, the Pixie beats her thin wings behind her excitedly. “The Fates guide you. There’s a slot underneath the screen of the center machine-” here she breaks off to gesture back at the massive pieces of metal before continuing, “-the slot lets out a ticket. It’s got a piece of advice on it that will either help you achieve or prevent one possible future.”

“But you still don’t get to know which it’s referring to,” Namjoon counters.

The Pixie nods. “And that’s the fun of it. You get just enough information to be curious.”

“This is just glorified fortune telling,” Jeongguk grouses under his breath. 

“It’s scrying,” the Pixie corrects, crossing her arms defensively at Jeongguk’s cavalier tone. “Just wait and see. Then you’ll believe me.” 

With a shake of his head, Jeongguk says, “We don't have time to stick around.” He fights the tipsy haze that clouds his brain and tries to get moving through the crowd again. Jimin wriggles against his side, practically pressed head to toe against him and looking supremely uncomfortable. 

Before Jeongguk can take more than a few steps, there’s a heavy hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Jeongguk…” Namjoon mutters softly. Hesitation laces through his words clearly. 

Fuck, Jeongguk slurs internally, because he’s waited too long. Namjoon is interested, and the likelihood of Jeongguk getting all of them out of there in time to meet Yoongi and Seokjin back at the ship is drastically diminishing. 

“Oh, not you too. I trusted you,” Jeongguk complains, trying to ignore the fact that it comes out as more of a pout. He thinks he hears Jimin coo under his breath at the sound. Jeongguk tries to conjure up a visceral hatred for the sound, but he can’t quite manage it in his state. 

Namjoon looks apologetic as he opens his mouth to explain, but it’s Jimin who interrupts. 

“Oh, c’mon, Jeongguk. You don’t believe in fate?” Jimin teases. 

No, Jeongguk hisses to himself. No, because why would Jeongguk believe that he was destined for the shit kind of life that he lives? What kind of sick and twisted universe would conspire to put him in this situation-- with no memory, no family, nothing to lose except the tiny little bit of humanity he still clings on to with desperate, ever-weakening fingers?

So Jeongguk stares down at Jimin so intensely that Jimin looks away. “I believe in chance,” Jeongguk retorts under his breath, “and the fact that the universe has the tendency to make life harder at the worst possible moment. I don’t know if that’s what you call fate.”

And maybe there’s just a touch too much venom in his voice, because the shutters in Jimin’s eyes come crashing closed. In a heartbeat, Jimin’s semi-flustered, blushing exterior falls to the calculated, sarcastic mask Jeongguk is more than acquainted with. 

“So, no,” Jimin summarizes in a drawl. “No need to wax poetic. You could’ve just said.”

The words jump out of Jeongguk’s throat before he can stop them. “One day, you’ll be dying,” Jeongguk smiles sweetly down at Jimin, “Bleeding out all over the floor, covered with knife wounds or riddled with bullet holes, and I’ll just be standing there watching. And you’ll be wondering why I’m not helping you even though I’m right there. So I want you to remember this moment, because this is the moment that I’ll be thinking of. Right now, I hate you.” 

Taehyung lets out a choked bout of laughter, but Jimin looks completely unfazed at the threat. If anything, he looks a little impressed. Slowly, he wrenches one arm out of Jeongguk’s hold, brings it up, and pats Jeongguk condescendingly on the shoulder. 

“Sure thing, sugar,” Jimin grins right back at him. He gives a smile that’s little more than a show of teeth, and Jeongguk feels the inexplicable urge to throw him out a window, or push him down a flight of stairs, or kis-

The lights go out just then.

The music stops all at once. 

Jeongguk practically jumps out of his skin as the crowd surrounding their little pod raises a thunderous applause and stamps their feet hard enough to shake the foundation of the casino. Even the people above the glass ceiling stamp their feet. The glass shudders under the abuse.

Get out get out get out, Jeongguk’s internal fight-or-flight reflex screams at him as his pulse starts racing, but he can’t do anything other than stand in shocked attention as a follow spot cuts through the darkness.

It shoots from somewhere in the distance, stops once it reaches The Fates. Underneath the golden light of the follow spot, a woman materializes seemingly out of thin air. Her skin gleams with a shade somewhere between dark blue and black-purple that Jeongguk has never seen before. 

There’s a crown on her head. It’s obsidian and pointed, raising up to the ceiling with its fingers. Her three-piece all-black tuxedo gleams in contrast with all the bright colors surrounding her every step. When she reaches towards the ceiling with one delicate hand, a microphone descends. 

“Welcome, and thank you for patronizing The Moirai!” the woman booms. Her voice shakes the walls harder than the cheers that surround her introduction. Her eyes, black from iris to sclera, shine under the attention. “I’m your host Nyx Nephus, and may I just say, what an attractive crowd you are!”

Laughs ricochet around the room, but Jeongguk shudders. The woman’s presence is too big, too important-- like she’s taken more energy from the universe than she was supposed to. Like she’s a part of the fabric of the universe itself. 

Over Jeongguk’s racing heartbeat, Nyx spins in a circle to address every member of her adoring crowd. “Are you ready for your chance-- your once-in-a-lifetime shot at seeing the future?” she calls, repeating after a moment, “I said: are you ready?!”

The floor trembles. The walls quiver with the sound of the audience’s clapping. 

Jeongguk breaks out into a cold sweat, heart in his throat. Jimin prods him in the side, and Jeongguk only then becomes aware of the fact that he’s practically been holding on to Jimin for dear life. 

Reluctantly, Jeongguk unlatches his arm from Jimin, but his eyes don’t leave the woman who struts in the arena like she owns everybody in the room. 

“Let’s tempt fate, my friends.” He sweeps across the room, looking for something. “Who in the audience will be the Chosen One tonight?” 

“ Me!” someone shouts to Jeongguk’s right.

Another voice screams: “It has to be me!” 

“I was here first!”

“ Please! I’ve come so far.”

All of the voices swirl, crush in on Jeongguk until he feels like he can’t breathe. And it’s strange, because this hasn’t happened to him before. He’s never felt this weight on his chest before, or the goosebumps that rise on his arms. 

Nyx closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them up again, two beams of pure white light shine from her eyeballs. Gaze literally glowing, she scans the crowd, illuminating all of the Fae, Humans, and Others that she passes over with her stare. 

She gets closer to Jeongguk.

No, Jeongguk thinks. He doesn’t even know why he’s afraid, but there’s this sick sense of intuition tugging deep in his stomach that tells him that he can’t be chosen. There’s something he’s not supposed to know-- Jeongguk can feel it. The air in the room is too thick; it promises that, if he plays The Fates, there’s no going back. 

Jeongguk has enough problems with his past without having to worry about his future. 

But he isn’t so lucky.

“ You,” Nyx booms as her gaze settles firmly on Jeongguk. Her eyes cut through him until Jeongguk feels like he’s an inch tall. 

And Jeongguk isn’t meek. He’s a fighter-- he’s a hell of a fighter. It’s what he’s built his entire life on. It doesn’t matter, though, because the moment the announcer singles him out, every single individual in the crowd snaps their head towards Jeongguk.

Under the weight of thousands of eyes, Jeongguk swallows hard and bleats, “Uh, no. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

Cries of disbelief circulate throughout the audience, even from his crewmates. 

“No, no, no,” Nyx tuts disapprovingly. She shakes her head solemnly, sighs, “I’m afraid that just will not do .” 

Looking out into the crowd filled to the brim with strangers, Nyx smiles saccharinely and commands, “Bring him to me.” 

The effect she has on the crowd is instantaneous. 

It’s as though every single person in the room becomes part of a hive mind. Their eyes go dull, even Namjoon’s, and Taehyung’s, and the Pixie’s. And then there are hands on Jeongguk, tugging him closer to the stage. 

“No,” Jeongguk shouts in panic, not entirely certain why he’s left unaffected. He scrabbles against the fingers that grip his clothes and rip at his hair. “ No!” 

Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Jeongguk writhes against the pull of the crowd as they yank him harder. His feet leave the ground as he’s lifted, passed along the hands of individuals he’s never seen before and will never see again. 

“ Stop!” Jeongguk screams out. He’s half-blind with terror, unsure of what’s going to befall him once he reaches the stage. 

For a single, horrifying moment, Jeongguk’s fingers close around the hilts of his guns. 

Do it, a small voice whispers in his head. It’s insidiously quiet, but its murmurs shake Jeongguk to the core. Shoot her. You can make the shot. You can end this. 

Draw your weapon, Jeongguk.

And he almost does. Sweat breaks out along his brow, but as Jeongguk is thrown across the waves of hands, he feels his hand close along the hilt of Lethe . 

“Jeongguk!” someone screams. 

Jeongguk twists to look in the direction of the voice, fear riding in his throat as he’s manhandled closer and closer to the arena. 

It’s Jimin. 

He stands in the same place as Namjoon and Taehyung, well within the boundaries of whatever magic Nyx is using to entrap everybody else in the crowd. Through it all, Park Jimin remains unphased. He looks up at Jeongguk with large, worried eyes; Jimin pushes against the bodies blocking him from reaching out and pulling Jeongguk back to him. 

Jeongguk feels a chill run through him. This is the Jimin that Jeongguk’s not sure he’s ever seen before. He’s different from the worried Jimin who shared a room with him; he’s completely unlike the sarcastic, angry Jimin who sat back and watched a world burn. This Jimin seems whole. He seems complete. 

He seems not like Jimin at all. 

Who are you? Jeongguk barely has time to think before he’s thrust into the center of the circular arena. 

At once, the announcer grabs hold of Jeongguk’s biceps and tugs him towards the machines. The moment her hand touches him, Jeongguk knows that he’d been right in his assessment of her. 

This woman-- no, Jeongguk corrects, this goddess is from the Galaxy itself. 

He’s in the presence of a god, wearing the clothes of mortals, and she’s pressing three silver coins into his hands. 

Up close, Jeongguk sees stars in her eyes. They whorl and twist and subdivide until Jeongguk is sure he’s no longer breathing. 

“Play The Fates,” she whispers to him under her breath, quiet enough that only he can hear, “They will not lead you astray.” 

And Jeongguk blinks. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that the spell seems to have worn off on the rest of the crowd. He’s focused on the goddess in front of him, swallowing hard. Jeongguk dares to question her. 

“Why?” 

A smile lightly tugs up the corners of her lips. “Because,” she lisps. “None of this is coincidence, child. The Galaxy needs a hero. Who else is going to do it?” 

Jeongguk feels cold all over, because anybody would be better than him. He’s made too many mistakes to be a hero. He’s done too many things wrong. He’s taken too many lives. 

“I don’t want it,” Jeongguk breathes out, surprised by the truth in the words. 

Nyx’s face turns sympathetic. “I know,” she replies quietly. 

To the sound of the impatient crowd that clamors for entertainment, she mutters: 

“But you don’t have a choice.” 

And just as soon as the ethereal presence overtook her initially, it leaves her visage until she’s camouflaged in the body of a woman once again. 

“The gods have spoken!” Nyx booms into the microphone. 

The crowd cheers. People and Others and Fae scream their encouragement. 

Jeongguk feels like he might break into a million little pieces. 

This is too much. It’s too much , and-

And-

He can’t breathe properly as a weight settles heavily on his shoulders. It presses down and down and down until Jeongguk feels like he’s floating, weightless and cold in an ocean of darkness. 

But there are hands on his own-- Nyx’s hands-- guiding him to push the first coin into the slot, and before he knows it, Jeongguk is tugging down the diamond handle on Clotho . 

The crowd jeers and hoots as the reel spins rapidly, deciding Jeongguk’s fate before Jeongguk even has a chance to live it. 

“What will it be?” Nyx narrates, voice pitched low and excited. “Which future will our Chosen One see?” 

Jeongguk doesn’t want to know, but Clotho is already slowing to a halt. On the reel in the center of the machine, shapes begin to take form. As the reel slows to a standstill, Jeongguk drinks in the scene in front of him. 

It’s him. 

Jeongguk watches himself as though he’s outside of his body. He sees himself tilt his head back to look at the sky, eyes closed. Above, clouds form on the horizon, black and heavy with the promise of rain. Wind whips around Jeongguk’s face in the first possible future, pushing his hair back and away. 

Please, Jeongguk sees himself mouth in the reel. 

The reel shutters back down to black. Beside him, Nyx hums into the microphone, “Huh. That’s rather uninteresting. But worry not, fair audience, because this is only the least possible outcome.” With a wink, she adds, “Hopefully there’s more excitement in store for our Chosen One.” 

Jeongguk can’t seem to stop his feet from moving towards the middle machine. It looms above him; the machine seems to shout its name down at him. 

Lachesis , it hisses over the jeers of the crowd. 

It feels like an out of body experience for Jeongguk as he slides the second silver coin into the slot a few inches above his head. Nothing but blood rushing through his ears echoes in his head. Still, Jeongguk reaches for the second diamond handle, yanks down to see his destiny. 

“Give us something exciting!” the announcer bellows towards the crowd. 

Like the first machine, the reel spins as it flickers to life. Lights shoot up and down the sides of the machine as it starts to settle to a halt. 

Jeongguk watches with detached interest as he sees himself again. This time he’s in a gunner capsule-- Yoongi’s gunner capsule, it looks like-- but Jeongguk only gets a half-second to wonder why he’s in that glass prison before he notices the streaks of light that hurl themselves past the sides of Yoongi’s ships. 

Guns, Jeongguk realizes. He’d recognize the energy charges from a semi-automatic blaster anywhere. 

The Jeongguk in the prediction has his eyes pulled wide in horror, staring at something that the audience can’t see. Just then, a particularly strong blast of energy spears straight towards Jeongguk’s gunner capsule. From the reel screen, Jeongguk kicks his knee out to send the capsule whipping around to the opposite side of the ship, but he’s not fast enough.

In the casino, under the lights, Jeongguk watches as a version of himself opens his mouth in a scream as the blast of energy hits the line that tethers the gunner capsule to the rest of the ship. He looks on as the connection is severed, as the future-him goes hurtling out into empty space away from the ship, carried away into the void by the lingering effects of the capsule’s own momentum. 

I’m going to die, Jeongguk understands dully as he watches the future unfold, because the gunner capsules don’t have engines of their own. In the future, I’m going to die. 

The realization isn’t as horrifying to Jeongguk as it probably should be, but the crowd behind him at his feet lets out a collective gasp of sympathy. 

“Ouch,” Nyx hisses into the microphone to Jeongguk’s left. “That’s never a pleasant sight to see. But, hey, this one is only sixty-or-so-percent likely to come true. There’s still hope for you, young man!” 

Quickly, she ushers Jeongguk to Atropos, the last machine. Individuals in the audience mutter to themselves, empathizing with Jeongguk’s eventual death in space. It’s with a sick sense of dread that Jeongguk recognizes that people he hasn’t even met before are watching his future. They’re mourning him before he’s even gone. 

It’s surreal. 

But it doesn’t stop Nyx from gently guiding Jeongguk to slide the last coin into the slot. Again, Jeongguk pulls the handle. 

Atropos whirrs to life under his touch as the screen flickers alive. Jeongguk’s blinded by the dizzying lights that run across the machine, illuminating the crowd behind him that swells into a crescendo of cheers and shouts. 

“Here it is!” Nyx enthuses, gesturing for the audience to make more noise, “Here’s the most likely future! What’s in store for our Chosen One tonight, hm? Do we dare to hope for wealth? For fame? For notoriety? Why don’t we-”

Her voice withers away and dies as the reel comes to a startlingly fast halt. 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his chest as he takes in the scene lighting up the reel’s screen. 

It’s a battlefield of some kind, one that Jeongguk has never seen before. The ground is iron, a shade of dusty red, and the sky swirls with a darkness that’s entirely too familiar. 

It’s the Demon, Jeongguk thinks to himself. His eyes widen as the scene zooms in to focus on the bodies lining the planet’s surface. 

He recognizes himself first. In the reel, Jeongguk lies on the ground. His eyes are open and staring at the sky, and his left arm is detached from his body. It’s a few feet over, right next to what probably used to be Namjoon. A mop of blue hair pokes out from under a pile of rubble; next to Taehyung’s head, Yoongi lies on his stomach, bleeding out and motionless. 

Jimin is the worst off of all of them. He’s to the right of Jeongguk’s bleeding body, covered head to toe in scratch marks and what appear to be burns. There’s a trail of blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth that’s contorted into a pained grimace. 

In the casino, Jeongguk’s stomach roils. He thinks he hears someone retching in the background. 

“W-Well,” the announcer breathes out shakily. The crowd, for once, is completely silent. “This is new. We’ve never had a death-”

She’s cut off once again, because the reel isn’t finished yet. 

The scene zooms out, out of the planet’s Galaxy, out into space. Jeongguk knows what’s coming next. He’s already seen it once, but watching the pillar of black smoke rise from the planet’s surface still sends a chill down his spine. 

Jeongguk looks away, casts a glance over his shoulder at Jimin. He passes over the horrified faces of those in the audience until he catches Jimin’s eyes. 

No, Jeongguk thinks he sees Jimin mouth over and over, face pale and drawn. No, no, no.

A thunderous ‘boom!’ sounds from Atropos’ screen, and Jeongguk doesn’t have to look back at the machine to know that the planet has fragmented into a million little bits. He doesn’t want to turn around to see what he already knows is happening, but the boom doesn’t stop. 

Reds and oranges and yellows bloom from the screen to cast the surrounding crowd in washes of worried pigment. Jeongguk whips back around to face the machine as the booms continue and feels his stomach drop. 

Because the reel still isn’t over. It zooms further out, to the entire solar system. Jeongguk watches with rapt attention as clouds of black overtake the entire nebulous Galaxy, snuffing out the light with one fell swoop.

He barely gets a chance to inhale as the scene changes to a new Galaxy. The cloud surges in, envelops the Galaxy, wipes it away. 

Panic settles into Jeongguk’s bones, because this is-- this is so much worse than he’d ever thought possible. One after the other, Galaxies of all shapes and sizes and colors appear and are destroyed on the screen in front of his eyes. 

And this is it. This is the most likely future-- the one that’s ninety-percent likely to happen. 

This is what’s going to happen. 

This is what Jeongguk is charged with stopping. 

Jeongguk swallows hard, palms prickling to life as beads of sweat drip down his neck. In the resounding silence, Atropos finally dims to sleep. The prediction draws to a close. Everybody in the room remains motionless, struck still at the understanding that sometime in the near future, the world-

No, Jeongguk corrects, the entire universe . 

The entire universe is going to end. 

The quiet is so deafening that Jeongguk is certain that everybody surrounding him can hear his heart as it tries to beat out of his chest. He can’t bring himself to turn around, can’t make himself look into the shocked faces of everybody he’s going to have some kind of hand in murdering. 

Ding! 

Jeongguk jumps as the middle machine lets out a high-pitched noise. He watches as a ticket, golden and shimmering under the low lighting, shoots out of a smaller slot near the base of the slot machine. 

Silently, Jeongguk walks over. He pulls out the ticket, feels its surprising weight in his hand, turns it over. It reads:

RA: 11 H 49 M 35.95 S

Dec: 22 ο 23’ 47.4”

It’s a coordinate system. Jeongguk is all familiar with reading right ascension and declination, but this pairing is unfamiliar to him. He squints at the ticket like that’ll make the directions more comprehensible. 

Coordinates, he thinks, Coordinates to what? 

A voice from the crowd cuts his thoughts in two. 

“He’s going to kill us,” someone shouts, voice high and panicked. “He’s going to get us all killed!” 

Unease drips from the glass ceiling as the rest of the crowd picks up into quiet conversations. Jeongguk turns on his heels, dread sinking deep into his stomach as he reads the atmosphere of the room. 

He catches sight of Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung near the center of the crowd. 

Namjoon looks slowly around at his surroundings, licking his lips nervously. Jeongguk knows that Namjoon is having the same exact thought that Jeongguk is. 

They’re going to kill me.

Even before that same individual in the crowd shouts, “ Get him!” Jeongguk has already tucked the ticket into one of his pockets and vaulted off of the circular stage. 

The Fates loom at his back as the crowd contracts around him, hands reaching out to tear at his face, his arms, his neck. It all passes in a fog as Jeongguk’s gaze tunnels, focused on a point of escape. 

Years of training in the Tactical Force kick in, and Jeongguk doesn’t even have to think as he ducks under limbs, twists neatly out from the clumsy grip of a passing Fae. His leg swipes out to kick in the knee of a Human that gets too close; Jeongguk forces his way through the crowd, the effects of the alcohol from earlier entirely shocked out of his system by seeing the end of the world. 

Jeongguk honestly doesn’t know how he makes it to Jimin, but he does. His heartbeat slams against his ribcage, chest heaving and legs burning as he runs towards Jimin and hefts him up and into his arms. Jimin scrabbles for purchase, his chest pressed to Jeongguk’s, legs wrapped around his torso as he points a finger towards the other end of the room. 

Against his ear, Jeongguk hears Jimin murmur out some kind of spell, but it doesn’t register. Jeongguk’s tunnel vision narrows even further as he locates Taehyung. Adrenaline pumps through his entire body until he’s grabbing Taehyung with his injured arm, not even feeling the twinge of pain as he lifts Taehyung clean off of his feet and tucks him under his arm.

“ Woah,” Namjoon exclaims as he runs next to Jeongguk, clearly impressed by the amount of weight Jeongguk can hold. 

If Jeongguk were present, he’d be surprised too. He’s never done this before, but he’s also never felt like this before-- like everything around him is melting away as some primal part of his brain activates, screams survive survive survive into his ears. 

The casino whirls around Jeongguk as he fights the crowd that tries to slow him. He runs from the shouts that echo from behind him, past the rows of slot machines, past the craps tables, past the sound of the glass ceiling shattering above him as Jimin’s spell finally takes effect. 

The bodies of the people above fall into the crowd below, twisting and flailing in midair, but Jeongguk doesn’t even register the amount of destruction raining down around him. He doesn’t even waste time aiming for the doors that are clogged with people-- Jeongguk just ducks his head, aims at the front windows with the shoulder that Taehyung’s not currently tucked under, and smashes his way clean through the layer of glass. 

“Holy shit!” Taehyung screeches from under his arm. “I swear to gods, Jeongguk, if you kill me on this getaway, I will rip out your eyes with my bare hands.”

The threat bounces off of Jeongguk, because Jeongguk isn’t even inside of himself. 

Only one thing plays on loop in head. Over the sound of Jeongguk’s panting and racing heart, Jeongguk keeps seeing the future laid out at his feet. He keeps hearing Nyx’s words whispered into his ears, but they sound like a curse. 

None of this is coincidence, child. 

Jeongguk races down the streets, back towards the ‘Repairs n’ Stuff’ where they’d left Seokjin and Yoongi. The inhabitants of the casino spill down the avenues after him, hot on his heels. 

The Galaxy needs a hero. 

He turns down the small alleyway at top speed, skidding around the corner before he darts further into the darkness. 

Seokjin and Yoongi wait outside of the shop, apparently already finished with the repairs. Seokjin looks absolutely livid for half a second before he registers the fact that there’s a crowd of angry civilians chasing Jeongguk through the choked alleyway. 

“See, I told you that leaving Namjoon to babysit was a mistake!” Seokjin hollars over the din at Yoongi, picking up into a run to race alongside Jeongguk and Namjoon. 

Yoongi sprints along with him, twisting on his heel to send a lick of fire from his fingertips at the crowd behind them. It slows their advance, but they push forward relentlessly. “Fine!” he sasses back, following as Jeongguk whips them around another corner and towards their parked ship, “I hope you feel validated right now!”

Who else is going to do it? 

The group comes to a halt in front of Yoongi’s parked, repaired ship. Yoongi pulls the keys out of his pocket, fumbling to find the right one.

“Oh, come on!” Jimin shrieks at Yoongi, right in Jeongguk’s ear. “Is now really the best time to be clumsy?”

Yoongi shouts back, “I’m sorry, but how the fuck is it my fault that we’re being chased down by a fucking tsunami of people?!”

“ CAN WE JUST GET IN THE SHIP?” Namjoon shouts. 

Fumbling under the pressure, Yoongi finally finds the right key. He jams it into the door, twists the key, and mutters curses under his breath as the walkway descends slowly. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Jimin breathes out into Jeongguk’s ear as the crowd spirals closer and closer.

I don’t want it, Jeongguk thinks again. I don’t want to be the hero.

The moment the walkway touches the ground, the group bounds up. Yoongi slaps a button on the wall once they’re in the main room, sprinting towards the cockpit as the walkway rises. 

Jeongguk barely manages to set Jimin and Taehyung down on the benches by the window before the crowd crashes into the ship, faces pressed angrily against the windows as they rock the ship on its landing gear. 

“ Yoongi!” Seokjin screeches, “Get this thing moving!” 

“You’re the prince here, couldn’t you just charm them into calming down?” Namjoon suggests as he straps himself down.

Seokjin makes a face. “I don’t know if you noticed, but these people aren’t exactly governed by reason right now. I don’t particularly feel like getting ripped to shreds because you suck as a babysitter!”

I know, Jeongguk hears Nyx’s voice in his head as the craft rumbles to life. 

Yoongi lifts the ship off of the ground. Fae cling to the sides for as long as their grip lasts before falling back to the ground. 

Jeongguk watches the crowd recede into the distance as Yoongi takes them higher and higher, shooting straight towards the glass dome that keeps the city protected. 

I know . 

Without warning, Yoongi smashes through the side of the glass dome, apparently unwilling to wait in the line of spacecrafts that stalls at the entrance to the dome. Shards of glass rain down onto the buildings and people below.

Red sand sweeps in instantly, filling up the dome with remarkable speed as Yoongi speeds towards the atmosphere. 

Jeongguk watches from his seat as the people in the glass dome are overtaken by the incoming sandstorm, completely at the mercy of the environment that they’d abused. He watches, eyes picking out the casino lights that still shine from the top of the hill. 

Standing at the top of the casino, Jeongguk sees her. 

Nyx. 

The goddess watches, palms turned towards the sky, stare locked onto Yoongi’s spacecraft as it starts to exit the atmosphere. 

You don’t have a choice, Jeongguk hears her saying, clear as a bell in his ears. 

The weight on his shoulders presses down harder as they exit the world. It settles there, pushing until Jeongguk feels like he’s going to explode. 

The fate of the Galaxy is up to them. It’s up to them-- a combative prince with a penchant for teasing; a pacifist scholar with a past marred by trauma; an engineer-turned-looter with horrible fashion sense and an eye that whirs in the silence; a drummer-slash-fighter pilot with an attitude problem; an Alchemist with a Demon on his trail; and Jeongguk, a traumatized ex-gunner with a memory loss problem and little to no self-confidence.

Jeongguk watches the world spinning behind them as they eject into space. 

You don’t have a choice.

He swallows hard. 

The Galaxy is well and truly fucked.

Chapter Text

Seokjin sits at the head of the mess hall table. His eyes are narrowed, brows pulled together to meet in the center of his forehead. He looks kingly, commanding even, and thoroughly exasperated. 

Around him, the others sit. Anxious silence settles through the downstairs dining area as they wait like children anticipating punishment. Jeongguk can feel Jimin bouncing his leg up and down next to him, and Taehyung bites his lip nervously on his other side. 

It’s been a few hours since their dramatic escape from the casino, and they’ve all been watching Seokjin fight some inner battle for the last twenty or so minutes. Objectively, the situation isn’t that bad. The ship’s repaired, and Yoongi managed to convince Repairs n’ Stuff to throw in some provisions so that they wouldn’t starve to death, but even Jeongguk has to admit that the situation isn’t exactly ideal.

For one, Yoongi may or may not have destroyed an entire city by blasting through the protective glass dome. And Jeongguk may or may not have discovered that sometime in the near future, they’re all going to be dead. 

“Someone,” Seokjin finally breaks the silence, voice deadly quiet, “ Please. Tell me that this is all one big misunderstanding.” 

Namjoon tugs on his collar, clearing his throat nervously from where he sits across from Jeongguk. “You mean that, in the future that’s most likely to happen, we’re not all going to die because of this Demon on our trail? Is that what you mean?”

“Gods,” Yoongi sighs. He plants his elbows on the table, drops his head into his hands. Namjoon gives him a sympathetic shoulder bump, but it doesn’t change the atmosphere at all. 

“I really don’t think that the gods have anything to do with this,” Jimin mutters under his breath. He sounds tense, but that’s probably warranted. He did, after all, just find out that a problem he himself caused is going to potentially destroy everything in the known universe. 

And Jeongguk remembers seeing Jimin’s horrified face back in the casino. He remembers looking at Jimin’s face, shrouded in darkness, as he chanted a chorus of helpless ‘ noes’ like a prayer. 

Sympathy sinks into Jeongguk’s bones. It’s stronger than before, because no matter how badly Jimin fucked up to get them here, he certainly doesn’t deserve to have the weight of the fate of the entire known universe resting on his shoulders. 

Jeongguk doesn’t, either. But here they are. 

Taehyung raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really?” he challenges, “What about the goddess Jeongguk talked to? She was spooky, right? Totally goddess-esque.” He drums his fingers on the table, eyes hazing over as though he’s recalling the events of the past few hours. 

“That’s one word for it,” Jeongguk huffs. He’d also go for powerful, or irritatingly grave, or full-of-shit . In particular, he really wants the last suggestion to be the most accurate; Jeongguk wants all of this to be some shitty casino magic trick, but it doesn’t feel like it is. The thought sinks his heart into his stomach. 

Seokjin rubs at his temples. He scoffs, “Please. The gods are dead; don’t be naive. They haven’t listened to us in a millennium. Why would they bother with us now?”

“Maybe because we’re about to destroy the entire universe?” Jeongguk deadpans. He doesn’t exactly mean to let the words out of his chest, but they come up anyway, carried on a wave of frustration so thick it manifests in his tone. 

Yoongi tilts back in his chair, eyes darkening. “You mean he’s going to destroy the entire universe.” He pins Jimin with a stare that would cut his throat if looks could kill. 

Jimin crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “If it were me that’s doing the destroying, then why did it show up in Jeongguk’s future?” he challenges, not breaking Yoongi’s glare, “If it were me, it should have shown me actually doing the destroying, right?”

As he talks, Jimin leans closer into Jeongguk’s side, like the proximity will keep Yoongi from vaulting over the table and skinning him alive. Jeongguk wonders if Jimin knows that he’s doing it or why he’s doing it. And Jeongguk should really tilt away, but the warmth that Jimin gives off is comforting. 

Jeongguk figures that a little bit of comfort can’t hurt. 

“I don’t know,” Seokjin sighs heavily, “I don’t know how any of this works. The Demon was there, and that much is your fault, and I just- fuck. What the hell, Jimin?” 

With an indignant squawk, Jimin blurts, “How long are we going to blame me for this? I’m trying, here! Why can’t you all just trust that I want to fix this as much as you do?” He sounds genuinely upset. 

The legs of Yoongi’s chair hit the ground with a resounding ‘smack!’ “ Trust you?” he growls as he leans forward across the table to jab an accusatory finger at Jimin’s chest, “We don’t even know you. In fact- I don’t know any of you.”

“Hey!” Namjoon protests. 

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi amends, “Except for you, Namjoon.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Seokjin interrupts before Jimin can open his mouth and let out the string of curses that Jeongguk knows he has ready for Yoongi. Seokjin rubs along his jaw as he thinks. “We don’t trust one another.” 

Jeongguk shakes his head in frustration. They’re literally hurtling through space towards the coordinates on the ticket, ricocheting through the stars to chase down a hint that may or may not help them prevent the fall of the entire Galaxy, yet here they are. Talking about building trust like they’re in some kind of group therapy meeting. 

“So, what, we do a group bonding exercise?” Jeongguk drawls. He means it to be sarcastic, but dread creeps up his chest as Namjoon nods enthusiastically. 

“That might be a good idea. At the very least, it’d help us be fucking civil to one another,” Namjoon says as he looks between Yoongi and Jimin pointedly. 

Jimin frowns deeply. “I am being perfectly fucking civil,” he pouts in a way that does absolute nothing to Jeongguk’s heart. 

“Then since you’re being so civil, maybe you should start,” Namjoon smiles sweetly. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Next to Jeongguk’s side, Jimin seethes. His lips pull into a frown, and Jeongguk struggles not to watch the movement. He tries in vain to keep his eyes on Jimin’s and not on the way Jimin’s throat bobs angrily as he swallows. 

What the fuck are you doing? that responsible voice in Jeongguk’s head shrieks at full volume. Look away! Look away!

He doesn’t look away, not even as Jimin wets his lips with his tongue and curses, “Fucking- fine.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t look away as Jimin throws up his hands in defeat and grits out, “My name is Park Jimin. I’m twenty-five. My favorite color is silver, I hate anything that slithers, and I have a bunch of moles on my back that are arranged in an alarming likeness of the Scorpio constellation.”

Valiantly, Jeongguk tries not to picture the smooth expanse of Jimin's back and the moles that might spatter across the space. 

Namjoon blinks. “That’s… both a lot and surprisingly little.” 

“See, I was picturing something more along the lines of where you were from, what your past was like, etcetera,” Seokjin says, wrinkling his nose at Jimin’s admission. 

“Then you should’ve been more clear,” Jimin grouses at the exact same time that Taehyung guffaws, “Seokjin, did you- did you say ‘etcetera’ aloud? Is that a prince thing?” 

Seokjin ignores both of them. He claps his hands together, pastes an ultra-bright (and ultra-fake) smile onto his lips, and drawls slowly, “Alright! I will demonstrate for you peasants. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m the heir to-”

“Her Empresses’ Earthside throne,” everyone else sighs in tandem, having heard this introduction before. 

“We get it, you’re powerful,” Taehyung sighs dramatically. 

Ever the composed picture of perfection, Seokjin continues on like he doesn’t have the threat of murder lingering in his eyes. “I’m of an indiscernible age-”

“You’re twenty-nine,” Yoongi interjects. “Everyone knows that.”

“I’m of indiscernible age,” Seokjin repeats jovially. “My mothers trained me formally in most of the Galaxy's martial arts before the age of ten. I can break a man’s arm with a single touch-” here he pauses, shoots Yoongi a cloyingly sweet glance, and says airly after Yoongi blanches, “-I once caught and tamed a feral ostrich, and… I like the violin.” 

Stunned silence drapes over the room for a moment, and then Taehyung is whispering in awe, “Dude, what the hell is your vibe?” 

“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” Seokjin corrects, violence in his sweet smile. 

Taehyung breathes, “I am so turned on right now.”

“Great, Seokjin!” Namjoon interjects, cheeks reddening. “Thanks for sharing.” 

Jeongguk shifts in his seat uncomfortably, already aware that at some point in the next ten minutes, he’s going to be asked to share personal details about himself that he doesn’t have. To mask his nerves, Jeongguk jokes, “Are we in a twelve-step program right now? And why is Namjoon our sponsor?” 

There’s just a tiny, miniscule bit of shaking in his voice, but Jimin is sitting close enough that he picks up on it. He turns to catch Jeongguk’s stare, eyebrows piquing up curiously. Jeongguk looks down at him-- he’s once again caught in the swirling green-greys of Jimin’s eyes. 

But then Taehyung is huffing, “Please. This is nothing like a twelve-step program,” and the moment breaks. 

Jeongguk looks away as Taehyung fills the silence. 

“Here, I’ll go next.” Quick as lightning, Taehyung clambers up onto the table and puts his hands on his hips. 

“This seems unnecessary,” Yoongi sighs in defeat. 

Taehyung pays him no mind. “My name is Kim Taehyung, and I’m an ex-AI engineer. I worked in a subset of the Outer Reaches for most of my professional career, and I had a hand in building most of the ships currently in use in the Tactical Force.” He cuts a cheeky glance down at Yoongi. “I’ve made a commitment to fix the AI aboard this ship-” 

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi spits.

“-and it will happen,” Taehyung nods, satisfied. “I like jewels, things that glitter, and talking about biopolitics and the effect it has on particular spatiotemporal configurations of intergalactic politics.” 

Taehyung climbs off the table and sits down, leaving another stunned silence in his wake. 

Seokjin lets out a small whistle, clearly impressed by the wild duality of Kim Taehyung. “I just cannot peg you people down,” he breathes, amazed. “Where did you all come from?” 

“Say more about biopolitics,” Namjoon urges, leaning forward like he’s ready to launch into a debate about things that make Jeongguk’s head spin. “Have you considered the prospect that Foucault’s theory fails to consider that-”

Yoongi slaps a hand over Namjoon’s mouth before he can dig them any deeper into the scholarly niche they’ve currently fallen into. “Min Yoongi,” he introduces himself, “Elemental Alchemist, ex-fighter pilot for the Rebellion-- which, thanks for putting that down, your highness.” He glares daggers at Seokjin, says with a little too much snark, “What a gift you are for the proletariat.” 

Thankfully, Seokjin seems unphased. “Happy to oblige,” he smirks. 

It occurs to Jeongguk that they’re all incredibly lucky that Seokjin is nothing like the rumors paint him as (unforgiving, cold, lethal), otherwise they’d all be trapped on the wrong side of an airlock for the treasonous words they’re tossing around. 

“I was working as a jazz musician in an underground bar back in Xeada, but then that guy came along,” Yoongi breaks off to jut his chin at Jeongguk, “And now here I am. Talking in a sharing circle in the middle of space with a Demon on my heels.” 

His words are venomous, and tension lingers in the air for a moment before Taehyung breaks it like a professional. “We should have a feelings stick, right?” he muses, tapping a finger on his chin thoughtfully, “And we should speak in ‘I’ statements. That might help.” 

Namjoon bats Yoongi’s hand off of his mouth. He glowers at Yoongi for the first time that Jeongguk has ever seen, but ignores Taehyung altogether. Which honestly is probably the right move. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon, and I used to be an Antiquities Professor at one of Her Empresses’s universities, but it wasn’t a good fit,” he says with a calm shrug. “And after my daughter died, I didn’t really feel like continuing my original post. So I quit, spiraled, opened The Speakeasy, and the rest is history.” 

Jeongguk appreciates the lack of drama that Namjoon brings to the group dynamic, and he really doesn’t want to broach a potentially sensitive topic in front of everyone else, but Jeongguk’s fatal curiosity leaks out. 

“Why do you carry her ashes?” he pries. 

Namjoon turns to look at him, knowing exactly who he’s talking about. “Minjee wanted to be a pilot one day. I figure this is the next best thing.”

And he says it so easily, so readily, that it almost seems like it’s not a big deal for him to talk about his daughter. But Jeongguk has years of experience reading people, and he catches the grief that flitters briefly through Namjoon’s eyes. 

“I’m sure she’d like that, Joonie,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk whips his head around in surprise. He’s never heard Jimin sound so soft before. Like he actually cares . It’s interesting. 

Namjoon nods gratefully, but requests, “Never call me that again.” 

“So what about you, o-Demon-bringer?” Seokjin reroutes the conversation with the practiced ease of someone who’s survived in cutthroat courtier discussions for his entire life. “What’s your story? Aside from the Scorpio moles and the slither-aversion?”

Taehyung, as usual, fixates on the wrong piece of information. “ Demon-bringer. That’s a sick nickname. Can I have one?” 

“Gears-for-brains,” Yoongi snorts immediately. 

“ Hey!” 

Jimin shrugs, though Jeongguk can tell he’s struggling to keep calm. “I’m an Alchemy student. Or, I was. I was in my last year when some of my peers convinced a group of underclassmen to steal a tome from one of our Elder’s libraries.” 

Jimin shifts in his seat, tucking his hands under his legs. “I was drunk, and stupid, and… I opened the book.” He closes his eyes, like talking about it hurts him. “I accidentally cast a summoning spell. I don’t think I’m ever going to not regret that.” 

There’s so much to focus on in Jimin’s confession. The sheer regret coursing through his words, the way he nibbles the inside of his cheek nervously, or the way he seems to shrink under the weight of his mistakes. 

“We’re in this situation because you got drunk?” Jeongguk finds himself asking. He doesn’t mean to-- he really doesn’t mean to, because Jimin looks honest for probably only the third time Jeongguk’s known him-- but he can’t stop himself. 

Immediately, the vulnerability drains off of Jimin’s face. A wall erects itself behind his eyes as he turns to Jeongguk and levels him with a ‘you really wanna go here?’ look. “Excuse me,” he scoffs, “But when I met you, you had just finished slamming back your eighth shot in Namjoon’s bar. Who’re you to talk about getting sloshed and making bad decisions?” 

“ Eight shots?” Taehyung screeches. He slaps his palms on the table, impressed. “How’re you not dead?”

Jeongguk turns away from the intensity of Jimin’s stare, especially since it makes something unfamiliar lick up his spine. “Body composition,” Jeongguk says simply. “I’m quite tall, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Well, resident Mysterious Man, what else are you?” Seokjin prompts. He drums his fingers on the table, sizing up Jeongguk in a way Jeongguk doesn’t appreciate at all. It’s the kind of look that makes him feel small, or like he’s caught out in the cold without a jacket, or like he’s about to get eaten alive.

Except not in the exciting way. 

Keep calm, Jeongguk coaches. Stick to what you know. You’ll be fine. 

“Uh-” Jeongguk’s voice immediately cracks. 

He tries again. “I’m an ex-machine gunner. I fought in the Outer Reaches during the war, retired after the ceasefire, and started working as a PI.” 

After silence falls and it becomes clear that Jeongguk isn’t going to offer anything else up, Jimin turns towards him again. Jeongguk firmly ignores how Jimin is still practically pressed up against him. 

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “That’s all?”

Awkwardly, Jeongguk wets his lips and offers meekly, “I… like black?” 

“What about your backstory?” Namjoon prompts, brows furrowed. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never even told me where you’re from.” 

Jeongguk’s heartbeat hammers in his chest, and it’s not because Jimin is sidled so close. It’s from the way everyone is staring at him. They’re fucking staring at him like he’s going to just up and bare his soul when everyone else got away with stating surface facts and personality quirks. 

Rationally, Jeongguk knows that he should say something . He should lie, at the very least, just to give all of them a false sense of security. Just enough that they trust him, but not enough that they actually start to get invested in him. 

Investment is dangerous. Jeongguk is already too invested in these people, Jimin especially, and he knows he should backpedal. He should stand up, walk right out of the room, and lock himself in the sleeping quarters downstairs until they arrive at the next planet in a week. 

But then Seokjin is urging, “C’mon. We’re all almost friends here.” 

Say something! Jeongguk’s voice blares in his own head, desperate to break the tension and get all the eyes in the room off of him. Anything!

“I don’t know,” he admits. 

Anything but that.

Seokjin takes it in stride, though he cocks his head to the side, interested. “So you’ve said. But surely you remember something about where you’re from?” 

And now it’s too late to lie. Everyone is already remembering the last conversation they’d had at this very table-- the one that Jeongguk had up and walked away from. Jeongguk can see all of them remembering Jeongguk’s behavior. He notices them trying to connect the dots. 

It’s too late, and now Jeongguk is going to have to deal with the aftermath of what he’s about to confess just to ease the pressure. 

“That’s the problem,” Jeongguk breathes, blood pounding in his ears as he finally voices the words he’s never dared to say out loud. “I don’t remember anything .”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. 

And when they finally do, Namjoon’s eyes blow wide with curiosity. “Are- are you serious? You can’t remember anything?” 

It’s like a dam breaks. Suddenly, Jeongguk can’t stop talking. He can’t control the words that flow out of his mouth. 

“I remember the training camps for the Tactical Force,” Jeongguk admits all at once, “But- but nothing before that. I don’t know where I’m from. I don’t know who my parents are-- fuck , I wouldn’t even know when my birthday is if I wasn’t issued these dogtags. I didn’t even know my name. It’s all just- it’s blank.” 

Jimin breathes out in disbelief. “Oh, my gods.” 

“Did you get a head injury?” Yoongi questions, looking concerned for the first time ever.

Jeongguk shrugs. “I don’t know. I woke up in the training bunks at the academy with my clothes next to my bed. That’s all.”

“Could it have been a spell?” Jimin asks carefully. He shoots a glance at Yoongi. “You ever heard of something like this?”

Yoongi shakes his head. His attitude is gone for once. “Nothing strong enough to erase twenty years. It’s odd.”

“You’re telling me,” Jeongguk says with an exhale. He can’t explain it, but there’s a sudden lightness that fills up his chest. It’s almost like being honest is healthy or something, like not living a lie is actually good for him. “I just hope that I was a good person before all of this.” 

Seokjin hums. “Why? What’s wrong with you now?” 

“I-”

Jeongguk breaks off. How can he admit to what he’s done, especially now that everyone in the room is feeling sorry for him? How the fuck is he supposed to casually bring up the fact that he’s killed innocent civilians; how can he mention all those times he turned a blind eye to the horrors around him, tucked up into the gunner’s capsule, claiming it was in the name of survival?

He can’t. 

So he just pastes a disingenuous smile on his face, follows it up with, “Nothing. Nevermind,” and calls it a day. 

The quiet that settles over the mess hall is more awkward and tense than ever before. It’s frustrating, because this is what Jeongguk had been trying to avoid by confessing that he doesn’t know who he is. Instead of helping, he made everything worse. Which, honestly-- that’s pretty much par for the course. 

“So… this worked, right?” Seokjin tries to bring the mood back up, “Look at us. Bonding. Don’t we all feel so much closer now?”

It’s a poor attempt at lightening the atmosphere, but it’s an attempt nonetheless. Jeongguk can’t quite help but admire Seokjin’s commitment to keeping the peace, but he chalks it up to all that princely training. He’d be a pretty shit heir if he didn’t spend time trying to make friends out of enemies. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m more depressed than before,” Taehyung complains. He lets his head ‘thunk’ onto the table, sighs, “I wish we could get drunk.” 

Yoongi snorts. “Drinking on a spaceship traveling thousands of miles per hour through a Galaxy. Smart.” 

“You literally have autopilot on,” Taehyung bitches, though his voice is muffled by the table’s surface. 

Seokjin sighs dreamily as they bicker. He puts his head in his hands, looks towards the ceiling of the mess hall like it’ll open up and some higher power will whisk him away from all of the idiots surrounding him. “I just love our new dynamic,” he mumbles.

And Jeongguk just sits there, watching how the others around him argue and quip away amongst themselves, like everything is fine. Like Jeongguk isn’t a murderer, like they aren’t fleeing a planet they may have accidentally destroyed, like they’re actually friends . 

It makes Jeongguk’s head spin, because none of this is alright. It’s not alright that he’d confessed something personal. It goes against every self-preservation instinct that Jeongguk has, and he honestly doesn’t know why he did it.

Or, he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t. But he knows, deep back in his mind, that it’s because he’s drowning, falling deeper and deeper into himself until he inevitably just trips off the deep end and doesn’t come back. 

Maybe it’s an entirely new self-preservation instinct that’s trying to save Jeongguk from himself. 

Something taps on Jeongguk’s arm, just above the bandages that still wrap around his forearm. Jeongguk turns, confused as he notices Jimin looking up at him.

The confusion increases tenfold as Jimin leans closer, whispers subtly, “Are you okay?”

“...what?” 

“Are you okay?” Jimin repeats slowly under his breath. “After all that?” He looks like he actually is worried about Jeongguk. His face is serious, eyebrows drawn into that expression that Jeongguk is becoming more and more familiar with. 

It’s bad that he looks serious. It means that he’s starting to care. 

And Jeongguk’s already bared enough of his soul today. 

Jeongguk pulls back a little, trying to recoil from Jimin’s stifling presence. “Why do you care?” he asks defensively. 

“What do you mean?” Jimin looks taken aback. “You’re a person. You’re a person, and you have no fucking clue who you are. That can’t be easy. Why-- should I not be worried about you?” 

Jeongguk doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to, because half of him wants to say ‘yes’, and the other half of him wants to say ‘no’, and he’s honestly not sure which side of him is winning at the moment. 

“Who are you?” Jeongguk redirects.

Jimin tilts back just a bit, but it’s more than enough for Jeongguk to notice that he’s hit a nerve. “I think we just established this,” Jimin huffs in faux-annoyance. 

Jeongguk doesn’t fall for it. “I mean, who are you really? And why do you pretend to be someone else?” 

“Pretend?” Jimin asks. “What do you-”

In an instant, his entire expression shifts. His eyes darken, lips tilting up into a sarcastic smile as he shuts the world out again. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re doing it again,” Jeongguk says, fascinated by the sudden transformation. 

Jimin reaches a hand up, and it almost burns when it comes to rest on Jeongguk’s cheek. “Oh, sugar,” he hums, dragging the thumb of his hand across Jeongguk’s cheekbone. “Do you honestly think that you could handle the real me?” 

Jeongguk honestly thinks that he has whiplash. The sudden, sultry seduction on Jimin’s face is jolting. It sends Jeongguk tipping backwards as he tries to get away. Jimin’s fingers pull down his jaw, his neck, as Jeongguk goes. 

The sudden movement pulls a tinkling laugh from Jimin’s lips, but it sends shivers down Jeongguk’s spine. Cold shivers. 

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin husks under his breath. His voice carries a foreign raspiness to it, but it’s gone in the next moment. 

Jeongguk just watches, shell shocked, as Jimin seamlessly launches himself into the arguing match that ricochets between the other four men. He doesn’t know what to do with himself all of a sudden, so he just lets his eyes trace over the curve of Jimin’s cheekbones, the bow of his lips, the freckles that dust the bridge of his nose. He’s so unlike the hard-talking, brash man who came crashing into a bar a few days ago. He’s unlike the soft, sensitive person Jeongguk just saw a few moments ago.

It sends Jeongguk for a loop , because he prides himself on being able to figure people out. 

It’s what he does for a living. But then why is it so fucking difficult to nail Jimin down? He seems bigger than his body at times and smaller than who he is at others. Jimin is soft one minute, cold in another, sassy in the next heartbeat. 

Jeongguk hates it. 

He hates it. 

So then why is it all he can think about? 

🌑

When Jeongguk wakes up, it’s completely dark. 

For a split second, he doesn’t know where he is. He can’t see anything around him-- not the bed he’s laying down on, not the stars swirling around outside, and not the light of the oil lamp that was still burning bright when he last closed his eyes. 

Panic settles in Jeongguk’s bones as he’s surrounded by the walls of darkness that seem to close in on him. He’s sweating, and the dampness that clings to the back of his neck tells him that he’s had a nightmare. 

He can’t remember any of what happened, but the residual terror still has him shaking in the undersized bed. 

Jeongguk sits bolt upright and tugs the twisted sheets off of where they pool around his waist. Breathe, he coaches himself, head in his hand as he tries to quiet the heavy pants that push past his lips. Breathe, Jeongguk. You made it out. 

This is real, he tells himself over and over again. It’s real . 

And slowly, the room around him materializes again. It takes a handful of painful heartbeats before Jeongguk’s eyes adjust, and he can see the faint light from the surrounding stars creeping in through the glass of the windowed-wall. 

A few more tense seconds and Jimin’s bed across the room takes shape. Jeongguk is so wrapped up in trying to slow his spiral into panic that he doesn’t notice that Jimin’s awake until the oil lamp on the nightstand between them flickers to life. 

The warm gold of the small fire washes the room in light, pushing the shadows that still cling to Jeongguk’s subconscious into the far corners of his mind. 

“Jeongguk?” Jimin whispers. His words are slurred, and his hair is tousled from sleep. “‘S going on?” 

A drop of guilt laces Jeongguk’s blood. Jimin looks exhausted-- hell, everyone on board looks exhausted. It’s been a week since the escape from The Moirai, and the entire crew’s been completely on edge. 

Jeongguk can tell that they’re all waiting for the other shoe to drop, because destroying an entire city doesn’t exactly go unnoticed. It’s the last thing they need, considering that there’s a Demon somewhere on their heels, chasing them through the Galaxy. 

They’ve been on rotating watch shifts all day, doing their best to prepare for any upcoming surprises. Yoongi stays in the cockpit most days, charting courses through asteroid fields and brainstorming battle tactics. Seokjin patrols the ship like he was born to do it, and Jimin spends most of his time grilling Namjoon about his extensive Demonology knowledge. Evey Taehyung has been helping out. He patches up small bugs in the ship’s systems and does his best to convince Yoongi to let him repair the AI onboard. 

The only one that hasn’t done anything is Jeongguk. He feels useless, so fucking useless , because his skillset isn’t helpful unless they’re actually facing down a threat. All he’s good for is aiming and pulling a trigger, and even that might be a stretch. He hasn’t actually visited the gunner’s capsule yet, hasn’t even given the controls a once-over. 

Jeongguk hasn’t fired a gun of any sort in years. He knows that he’s useless right now, which makes this whole situation infinitely worse-- because how the fuck is he supposed to save the universe if he can’t even help onboard one single ship? 

It’s for this reason that now, staring at Jimin’s sleep-puffy eyes that shimmer with tired concern, Jeongguk feels like actual shit. Here he is, having nightmares like a child while Jimin is actually trying to make amends for what he’s done. 

“Nothing,” Jeongguk reassures with what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Go back to sleep.” 

Jimin looks suspicious, but his body settles back under the covers of its own volition. “Are you sure?” he hums under his breath. 

Jeongguk looks at him, that confusing little jump-and-twist maneuver in his chest sparking to life as he drinks in this Jimin. The one he’s been seeing a lot more of lately. 

He pushes the feeling away. “Yeah. Just gonna use the washroom.” 

Jimin mutters an acknowledgement, but Jeongguk doesn’t stick around long enough to hear it. As quietly as possible, Jeongguk swings himself up and off the bed, stopping long enough to turn out the light, and tiptoes out of the room. 

All at once, the quiet of the belowdecks area engulfs him. There’s nothing in this corridor but the quiet ‘drip drip drip’ of a pipe Taehyung hasn’t fixed yet and Seokjin’s surprisingly loud snores. 

And to be fair, Jeongguk really does intend to head towards the washroom, splash some water in his face, berate himself a little in the mirror, and go back to sleep. But something inside of him tugs hard in the direction of the ladder that leads towards the above-deck area. 

Jeongguk bites his lip, considering his options in the dimly lit hallway. 

He should sleep. He should turn around, get back into bed, and prepare for the landing they’re going to have to pull off on another foreign planet tomorrow. But he’s not going to have a chance like this again. Everybody is asleep and tucked away; there’s no one around to see Jeongguk fail at his attempt to be useful. 

In the end, it’s not much of a decision. 

The cold of the ship brushes its fingers featherlight against Jeongguk’s bare chest. Goosebumps rise along his shoulders and arms as he makes his way towards the ladder. He climbs up on silent feet, and the biting chill of the metal rungs reminds him briefly that he’s alive. 

“You’re going to have to do this eventually,” Jeongguk says to himself as he clambers onto the main deck. He eyes the door to the cockpit, tries to ignore the grip of fear that clenches hard around his heart. “They’re going to need you to do this at some point.” 

You can’t let them down, too, he almost says aloud. But he doesn’t, because Jeongguk can’t face the reality that, at some point, he probably will end up disappointing everybody on board. It’s horrible, because the others have all been so understanding about Jeongguk’s past (or lack thereof) after the conversation in the mess hall, but it’s really just an inevitability. 

It’s what Jeongguk does. He’s just the person that helps people realize they deserve better than what he has to offer. And Jeongguk can’t really blame them. With everything he’s done, it’s remarkable that people stick around as long as they already do. 

These are the thoughts that push their way down Jeongguk’s throat as he stands in the center of the main deck, barefoot and cold, fighting the horror that rises to coat his tongue the longer he remains motionless. 

These are the thoughts that ultimately have Jeongguk sucking in a determined breath. “You can do this,” he says aloud, firm and hard. “You’re Jeon fucking Jeongguk, and you can do this.” 

Three tours in the Tactical Force aren’t about to go to waste just because Jeongguk is, what, afraid of a glass capsule? Jeongguk snorts at the thought. It sounds ridiculous once he truly thinks about it. 

Or, he at least tries to convince himself that it sounds ridiculous as he pads towards the door, hefts it open, and slips into the cockpit. 

The cockpit itself is sleek and official looking, but seems to exist in a state of organized chaos that must only make sense to Yoongi. There are little pieces of parchment tacked to the front window, strings hanging from levers that reside on the sloped ceiling, and a little charm attached to the steering console. 

Jeongguk barely pays the room any attention. He’s not here to disrupt the autopilot system or spend time here-- no, Jeongguk’s focus is on the hatch on the ceiling just behind the pilot’s seat. There’s another gold-finished ladder attached to the wall that Jeongguk ascends quickly. 

“You can do this,” he repeats firmly, just to convince himself. Jeongguk grips the rubber-coated handle to the hatch, takes a deep breath, and pushes the hatch up and open. He doesn’t let himself linger in the space between the two rooms. Jeongguk moves quickly because if he doesn’t, he’ll let himself think of all of the reasons why this is a bad idea.

 So Jeongguk doesn’t take a breath until the hatch below him is firmly shut and sealed. He doesn’t look around until he’s firmly seated in the black, upholstered chair that sits in the middle of the glass sphere. Jeongguk grips the five-point safety belt in his hands, crosses it over his bare chest, and locks himself firmly in place. 

And then, once he’s tightly secured with no hope of a speedy escape, Jeongguk takes a breath. He drinks in his surroundings, sickeningly familiar with the capsule surrounding him. 

The capsule itself is arranged in the shape of a hemisphere. The bottom of the capsule flattens onto the top of the ship, right above the cockpit, but Jeongguk knows that when the ship itself rearranges into its battle formation, the capsule will detach. 

Jeongguk is surrounded on all sides by the stars that spin outside. He’s separated from the void of space by a thin layer of enchanted glass, spelled by some of Her Empresses’ best Combat specialists. Truth be told, the interior of the capsule is fairly uncluttered, but that’s because it’s barely large enough for Jeongguk to sit upright in. 

“‘S not so bad,” Jeongguk breathes out, though the way his heart races begs to disagree. His eyes skip over the oxygen mask that rests on the side of his chair. Jeongguk finds himself looking at the guns. 

The guns .

They’re large and angry-looking, filled to the brim with explosive capsules waiting to punch holes through whatever craft they come across. Jeongguk notices the guns’ handles in front of him-- there are two, one per gun-- but he doesn’t really see them. All at once, he’s caught up in the feel of the panels pressing against the exterior of each of his knees, the feeling of the pedals under his feet that have the power to turn the capsule on its axis at a moment’s notice. 

And Jeongguk doesn’t know why he does it. He knows that he’s not ready, he can feel it in his bones now, but Jeongguk reaches for the switch underneath his seat. 

He flicks it. 

There’s a hiss of air, and Jeongguk doesn’t even need to glance below him to see how the bottom of the capsule separates from the ship’s surface. He doesn’t need to turn to the sides to see how the capsule spits out tracks made of sheer energy. They span like a web, running over the ship’s entire exterior in a cross-hatched pattern. 

The capsule itself rests on these webs, ready to follow the trajectory of one line or another across the entire ship if need be. 

With shaking hands, Jeongguk picks up the oxygen mask. He pulls it over his face, secures it. 

Stop, the rational part of his brain screams. STOP! 

But Jeongguk can’t, because the memories are already screaming back at him as they bubble to the surface. 

In an instant, Jeongguk’s overtaken by them. 

“ Echo, combat Delta,” a voice shouts in his ear. 

Jeongguk grunts in acknowledgement. He removes the safety brakes, taps his right knee experimentally against the metal panel, and goes sweeping a few feet to the right towards the front of the ship. 

You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay- 

“Right six, two marks,” the voice of Jeongguk’s old partner exclaims through the earpiece in the mask. 

“Copy,” Jeongguk breathes, vision flooded by the sight of a battlefield Jeongguk hoped that he’d forgotten. In front of his eyes, distant spacecrafts materialize. They shimmer and shake like mirages do, sweeping past Jeongguk’s capsule smoothly, firing at the hull of the ship. 

Instinct kicks in as Jeongguk chases the memory. He slams his right knee outward. The capsule speeds towards the very front of Yoongi’s ship; at the same time, Jeongguk presses down on the left pedal with his foot. It sends the capsule into a one-eighty as it moves until Jeongguk is facing the opposite side of the ship. 

You’re okay you’re o-

“Left three, keep your eyes on the Beta-thirty-four.” 

Following instructions, Jeongguk zeroes in on the Beta-thirty-four bombers he imagines sweeping past. He presses on the right foot pedal to send himself across the width of the ship, towards the Betas that dip underneath the belly of Yoongi’s ship. 

Jeongguk chases them, pulse hammering his ribcage as the capsule races along the underside of the ship. For a moment, he’s weightless as he’s sent upside down. Jeongguk’s restrained by the five-point harness. Sweat drips in his eyes as Jeongguk maneuvers the capsule around to chase the crafts that only he can see. 

“Echo, the Betas are in pursuit. We need you in formation-”

You can do-

Jeongguk pursues the vision, chases the bombers up and back over the ship. Instinctively, he reaches for the gun’s controls. His fingers brush against the metal grips, heart skipping as they lie with a familiar heft in his hand. 

“Take the shot, Echo,” the voice whispers in his ear. 

But Jeongguk sees the ghosts of the dead behind his eyes. He stares at the ship, wonders how many lives he’ll be ending if he shoots. He remembers all of the crafts he’s ever taken down, all of the bullets he’s ever shot. 

You c-

“Echo, take the fucking shot!”

It’s too much. It’s too much, and Jeongguk can’t breathe even though there’s oxygen pumping through the mask. This was a mistake. This was a mis take . He shouldn’t be here. Jeongguk shouldn’t be sitting in here, he shouldn’t be holding his guns, he shouldn’t be responsible for the fate of the Galaxy. 

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t think. 

Jeongguk can just watch as the Beta-thirty-fours soar directly towards his capsule as the voice in his ear is screaming at him to take the shot. To end a life. 

The bombers get closer, closer, closer, until Jeongguk can feel the heat of their engines blasting the surface of his gunner capsule. He sees the guns swiveling towards him, lining up to take their shot-

You’reokayyou’reokayyou’reokay

-and then they’re firing at Jeongguk, spears of light soaring towards what will be a direct hit if Jeongguk doesn’t move. If he doesn’t-

Jeongguk rips the oxygen mask off of his head. 

And as soon as the memory began, it fades, leaving Jeongguk sitting slumped in the gunner chair. 

His breaths come in deep, trembling gasps, and he’s sweating so much that he feels hot and sticky all over. Ringing, high-pitched and awful, bounces between his ears. 

You’re not okay, Jeongguk realizes. This isn’t okay. 

His fingers scramble to get the capsule back in position. They fly over the controls, the seatbelt, the door to the hatch as Jeongguk feels the need to get out settle heavy on his chest. Jeongguk tears out of the cockpit’s door so quickly that he stumbles.

The metal door slides shut behind him, and Jeongguk barely has enough time to whirl around and press his back against the cool surface before he goes crumpling to the ground. It rises to meet him until Jeongguk is sitting with his head in between his knees once more, fighting the panic that swirls up his throat. 

Useless, he hears on repeat in his head. Fucking useless. 

He can’t do it. Jeongguk can’t do the one thing that he was brought along for. And one day in the very near future, it’ll probably get them all killed-- because how is he supposed to face down a Demon that destroyed worlds when he can’t even fight the ones that scratch their nails down the walls inside of his head? 

“Gods,” Jeongguk exhales shakily. He runs his hands through his sweat-damp hair, forces himself to inhale and exhale smoothly. 

There’s the sound of soft footfalls, and then a voice calls, “...Jeongguk?” 

Jeongguk snaps his head up so fast that he feels the muscles in his neck ache. Jimin stands next to the ladder that leads down to the crew quarters. He’s in his sleep clothes, and the white fabric shines in the starlight that seeps through the windows. 

“Oh,” Jeongguk tries, more than aware of how strained his voice sounds. “ Fuck - I’m sorry for waking you up, I just- I- shit.”

Jimin rushes, “No, you didn’t. I just woke up, and you were still gone and-” he breaks off, drinks in Jeongguk’s haggard appearance. “Are you… okay?” His eyes sweep to the cockpit’s door and back down to Jeongguk.

It’s a struggle to rein in the near-hysterical laugh that tries to bubble out of Jeongguk’s lungs. Adrenaline still tears its way through his bloodstream, making Jeongguk’s tongue heavy and his head foggy. 

But Jimin is looking at him like that , like he’s concerned, and it scares the shit out of Jeongguk just enough that he manages to pull himself to his feet. “I’m fine,” he denies instinctively. Jeongguk grips the lingering terror in his chest and crushes it down as hard as he can until it’s nothing more than a dull ache that numbs his senses. 

Jeongguk brushes past Jimin, determined to swallow all of his regrets and drown himself in sleep, but Jimin’s hand shoots out faster than Jeongguk can process. His fingers close around Jeongguk’s wrist, wrapping tight as Jimin tugs Jeongguk back. 

The sudden jerk makes Jeongguk’s eyes blow wide in shock. He stares down at Jimin, holding his breath for reasons that are currently beyond him. 

Jimin looks back up at him. His amber eyes shine in the starlight as he mutters softly, “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” 

And there’s such straightforward honesty on Jimin’s face-- the kind that Jeongguk’s never seen from him before-- that Jeongguk’s heart honest-to-gods stops. And then skips. 

“What?” is all Jeongguk can manage to bleat out. His head spins, and it’s not just from the memories that cling to his skin. He’s confused; Jeongguk is thoroughly fucking confused as to what the hell is going on, because Jimin is impossible to pin down. 

It drives Jeongguk crazy. 

Jimin just shrugs and raises a hand. It trails along the curve of Jeongguk’s bare forearm, up his bicep, stopping briefly on his shoulder before it settles on the swell of Jeongguk’s cheekbone. “You must be so tired,” Jimin whispers. 

For a brief moment, Jeongguk loses himself. His eyes shutter closed, and a heavy exhale escapes his lips. It feels almost… nice . 

But then Jeongguk remembers who he is, who Jimin is, and why they’re here. He pulls back so quickly that it hurts, but Jimin doesn’t look the least bit offended. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk starts, not entirely sure where he’s going with this. 

Jimin just looks at him. He’s much too close to Jeongguk, so close that the heat from his body is messing with Jeongguk’s head. Jimin is inches away, and from this distance, Jeongguk can see the flecks of gold that sprinkle throughout Jimin’s liquid-amber eyes. 

They’re gorgeous, and Jeongguk spends a half-second wondering why he never noticed them before, because-

Wait. 

Amber? 

Because Jimin doesn’t have amber eyes. 

Jeongguk recoils even further, blinking rapidly as his heart rate jumps again. He opens his mouth and has a thousand questions ready to jump off of his tongue, but then he looks again. 

And Jimin’s green-grey eyes are back. 

What in gods’ names, Jeongguk breathes to himself. It has to be a trick of the light. It has to be, or it’s just the aftereffects of the panic that lances through Jeongguk’s body and up his spine. 

“What-” Jeongguk tries to ask, but Jimin just smiles like he knows what Jeongguk is thinking about. 

It’s mysterious. Unnerving, even. 

Jeongguk stands there reeling as Jimin purrs, “See you back downstairs.” He traces along Jimin’s body with his eyes as Jimin saunters back towards the ladder and recedes into the darkness of the belowdecks until it’s like he was never there at all. 

There’s too much to process right now, and Jeongguk is way past overwhelmed-- but shrouded in the blood of the stars, staring at the hatch that swallowed Jimin whole, Jeongguk still finds room to swallow hard and think:

What. 

The. 

Fuck. 

🌒

Oh, sugar-

Do you honestly think that you 

could handle the real me ?

See you back downstairs

A god? 

Please. 

You’re a pest and nothing more.

And now, you’re not

🌓

Namjoon’s voice comes crackling through the receiver in Jeongguk’s helmet. “This is… not what I expected,” he admits. 

It’s a bit of an understatement, because when Jeongguk read the coordinates on the ticket, he thought that they’d be heading for some kind of massive, grandiose planet. At the very least, he’d expected there to be people . But Jeongguk didn’t anticipate that they’d be here-- floating through space on a dust-grey asteroid the size of one single city. 

From Jeongguk’s side, Jimin snorts. He bounces along, enjoying the zero gravity just a little bit too much, and sasses right back, “Jeongguk pulled a raffle ticket out of a gambling machine that predicted the future in a casino within a city underneath a glass dome in the middle of a desert, and this is what you don’t believe?” 

“Well, when you put it like that .” Namjoon’s pout is picked up by the receiver in his helmet, and Jeongguk hears Taehyung’s faint snicker through his other earpiece. 

Jimin presses down onto the surface of the asteroid, pushes up hard enough that he goes flying several feet into the air. “There’s no other way to put it!” he exclaims with a breathless giggle that does nothing to ease the confusion lingering in Jeongguk’s chest from the other night. 

Jeongguk only absentmindedly pays attention to the sound of the others bickering back and forth. He brings up the rear of the suit-clad group, walking along the barren surface of rock as he locks his eyes on Jimin’s form. 

He can’t help it-- ever since that night, Jeongguk has been on edge. All he can think about are Jimin’s amber eyes shining in the starlight and the way his voice was pitched soft and sincere for the first time possibly ever . 

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t recall when exactly he started to let his guard down around Jimin, and now it’s coming back to bite him in the ass. Because how the fuck could he have noticed Jimin’s drastic personality swings and done nothing about it? He’s a Private Investigator , for crying out loud. Jimin’s miraculous resistance to Nyx’s spell back in The Moirai should’ve been the first clue, but Jeongguk let it slip through his fingers like it was nothing. 

 Because somewhere between seeing a world destroyed, having his future told, and spiraling into recurring panic attacks, Jeongguk had let himself get whisked away in the fantasy that he and Jimin are friends . 

And all it’d taken was a few conversations, a few glances, and some subtle touches. No matter how much Jimin makes Jeongguk’s head spin, Jeongguk has a job to do. It’s time he started actually doing it. 

So he watches the other carefully, eyes tracing over the five other figures that trudge along ahead of him, wearing protective suits and helmets to protect from the asteroid’s lack of atmosphere. 

Yoongi sighs. “So, are we sure that there’s nothing else written on the ticket?” he sighs, turning his head to and fro to drink in their bleak surroundings. “No other set of specific coordinates or anything?” 

“None, sorry,” Seokjin mutters. He heads the group, walking them across the width of the asteroid. 

Taehyung lets out a bitter laugh. He kicks at the ground sullenly, watches in semi-shocked awe as a rock dislodges itself under his touch and floats slowly into the air before settling back down. “I can’t believe we have to trek all the way across this fucking planet.”

“It’s not a planet,” Jeongguk snorts. He doesn’t mean to, but there are honestly worse things than being right here. The stars swirl around them in concentric circles. They look close enough to reach out and grab, and the sight takes Jeongguk’s breath away for a moment, but he’ll be damned if he shares that with anyone. 

Instead, he corrects, “It’s an asteroid. It’s literally two square miles. We could walk the diameter and back in three hours. Stop whining.” 

Taehyung whirls. 

(It’s more of a slow twirl, though, because Taehyung isn’t quite used to different gravity yet. It ruins the angry sentiment, but Taehyung remains undeterred.)

He points an accusatory finger at Jeongguk, waggles it. “Okay, listen up, sir. We weren’t all built to endure heavy combat, okay?” Taehyung snarks. His eyes glint behind the helmet’s visor. 

“ Tae hyung,” Namjoon hisses, clearly trying hard and miserably failing to be subtle. 

Jeongguk wants to cringe, or maybe scream. They’ve been like this for the past few days, being careful not to bring up Jeongguk’s mysterious past or his time in the Tactical Force. Rationally, Jeongguk knows that the thought is pure-- they’re probably just trying to respect his space and give Jeongguk the distance that they think he needs to heal. 

Jeongguk doesn’t really know how to tell him that the silence that distance brings is quite possibly the worst thing for him, so he doesn’t say anything at all. 

“Sorry,” Taehyung grumbles under his breath, sounding anything but. 

Silence descends for a few agonizingly-uncomfortable heartbeats before Jimin takes one for the team. “So…” he drawls carefully, “What do we think is on this… rock? Hypothesize, people.” 

“No clue. We’ll just have to wait and see,” Seokjin shrugs, either unwilling to break the tension or just not giving a shit that it’s there. It’s an admirable quality in a kind of ‘arrogant snob’ kind of way. 

Taehyung makes a sound, and even though Jeongguk can’t see his face, he knows that Taehyung is wrinkling his nose in annoyance. “That is such a non-answer.” 

“I’m not a psychic. I’m just a prince.” Seokjin shrugs again. Jeongguk absently wonders how many times he can do that before his arms are irreparably stuck in that one position. 

Scoffing, Taehyung mocks, “ ‘Just a prince.’ Disgusting.” But interest laces through his words, thick and heavy. 

Thankfully, Namjoon chooses that moment to speak up. “Sorry to interrupt this awful thing you two have going on, but-” he breaks off, pointing somewhere into the near distance, “-what’s that?” 

Jeongguk follows the line of Namjoon’s pointer finger. There’s a strange haze in the distance, and if Jeongguk didn’t know any better he’d say that it looked like a desert storm. It’s not what Namjoon’s pointing at, though, and it only takes Jeongguk a second to realize what’s in front of them. 

A hundred or so feet away, there’s a sheer cliff face. It’s craggy and dappled with different colored minerals and semi-precious stones, steepling up and into the open space above proudly. That in itself is problematic, because it most certainly hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. 

But what catches Jeongguk’s eye even more than the spontaneously-appearing cliffside is the spontaneously-appearing building that’s embedded in its surface. The building looks like a relief carving, etched into the very mountainside itself. It’s easily one hundred meters tall, and has Corinthian columns supporting the epistyle; the frieze is decorated with a language that Jeongguk can’t decipher. 

There are two of the decorated columns on either side of the large, cavernous archway that yawns open to reveal the pitch blackness beyond. Statues line the entrance and the second floor’s decorated ledge. 

Though the structure is on a literal asteroid , it’s painted in bright reds and sweeping blues and golds. The sight is near-blinding, especially given the lack of pigment anywhere else on the asteroid’s surface. Above the main archway, there’s something written in a foreign language. 

“What is this?” Jeongguk breathes as they approach. He knows nothing about architecture, but the building oozes this strange kind of energy. It seems powerful, alive in the same way the gambling machines in The Moirai were alive. The feeling sends a shiver down Jeongguk’s spine. 

The group comes to a halt at the foot of the engraved staircase that leads onto the first floor’s landing. Up close, the columns are wider than two of them put together. Yoongi shakes his head in awe, asks quietly, “Namjoon? Thoughts?” 

Namjoon wastes no time. He scurries forward and up the stairs to inspect the intricate etchings on the walls. “It looks like some kind of temple,” he mutters, voice staticy through the receiver. He traces some of the lines, brow furrowing, and adds, “These are religious markings. Old Kingdom, I think, but… it’s strange.” 

“What in particular?” Seokjin asks, “You really have to be more specific at this point.” 

It earns him another disbelieving shake of Namjoon’s head. “It’s done in Earth’s style, fifth century. But that doesn’t make sense , because space exploration didn’t begin until the twelfth century. How the hell did this end up here?” His fingers brush along the lintels of the doorway, mouth dropped open in awe. 

Taehyung hops up the steps to meet him. “Can we go inside?” 

“Look at these columns,” Namjoon mumbles to himself. “They’re sand-blasted; I can see the wear and tear. But there’s no atmosphere! How the hell does the sand move?” 

Jeongguk follows Jimin up the steps as Taehyung rolls his eyes and tries again, “Maybe if we went inside, we’d find out.”

“And these petroglyphs!” Namjoon exclaims. He points to them enthusiastically, falling into his Antiquities Professor role as though he’d never left. “So intricate. I wonder how they were done. Do you think it was with a chisel and hammerstone? I haven’t seen that technique in ages , and-”

Taehyung claps his hands together. His eyes widen comically as he approaches Namjoon, voice pitched low and serious. “Do you think, and this is crazy, but-- do you think… if we went inside… we’d find out?!” 

He practically shouts the last few words, and Namjoon jumps as he’s pulled out of his scholarly stupor. 

The shock on his face forces a little chuff of laughter out of Jeongguk’s lungs. He chokes it down, claps Namjoon on the shoulder. “Come on, Joon. We can come back later.” 

“But-” Namjoon tries to protest as Jeongguk forcibly tugs him away, “But what about-”

Jimin grabs Namjoon’s other arm. “Don’t make me enchant you,” he threatens with a grin, tugging Namjoon after the others and towards the doorway leading into darkness. 

The words pique Jeongguk’s interest. “You can do that?” he asks, following the thread of intuition that tugs on something in his stomach. 

“It’s basic magic,” Yoongi says through the receiver. “Amateur hour spells.” 

Huh, Jeongguk thinks. In the back of his mind, a thought starts to form. Enchantment would explain a lot. It would explain the way his heart does that jump-and-squeeze maneuver every time Jimin gets too close, or when he touches Jeongguk. 

It’s comforting to have this realization-- to know that Jeongguk isn’t really at fault for the way his body reacts in Jimin’s presence. It’s an enchantment. It has to be. Jeongguk just has to prove it. 

“Are we going into the temple or what?” Taehyung’s annoyed shriek cuts through Jeongguk’s thoughts. He stands in front of the towering archway, gesturing pointedly towards the darkness that seeps from the doorway. 

Seokjin harrumphs, rolls his eyes, and waves a hand in the air loftily. “Yes, yes. Let’s go before Taehyung explodes.” 

It’s just a little bit alarming how none of them pause at the front of the entrance. Realistically, there should be a little bit of hesitation, but Jeongguk feels the beginnings of curiosity burning through his bloodstream. He wonders if everyone else feels it too-- if they all feel the aura of the temple seeping into their bones. 

Jeongguk ends up being pushed to the front of the group as they step into the dark. He’s right there next to Taehyung. It’s a good thing, because when Taehyung’s foot goes slipping out from under him, Jeongguk’s hand shoots out lightning fast to tug him back.

“Gods,” Taehyung titters nervously. “There’s a step here.” 

Jeongguk kicks one of the rocks that rests at the beginning of the staircase. It goes scuttling down into the sloping darkness, pinging against what Jeongguk assumes are an entire flight of stairs. “There’s gravity in here,” Jeongguk calls through his earpiece. “And a staircase. Watch your step.”

“Gravity?” Jimin mutters under his breath as he follows. “How’s that possible?” 

No one replies. Jeongguk holds his breath as he’s swallowed whole by the inky blackness that shrouds the staircase. It’s so intense that he can’t see at all-- not even the hand in front of him that’s pressed against the wall to guide his descent. 

And there’s no sound in here either. Only little crackly breaths puff to life through his helmet’s earpiece. Even Taehyung is quiet as they sink lower and lower beneath the surface of the asteroid. 

Something is off. Jeongguk can feel it prickling along the back of his neck, though it’s covered by the spacesuit. There’s some presence lingering in the air, watching them. 

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, flame bursts to life right next to Jeongguk’s head. 

He whips around, hand grabbing for one of the golden guns he has strapped over top of his suit. The sudden movement makes everyone else in the group jump as well, and Jeongguk is fairly certain he hears Namjoon let out an undignified screech. 

“It’s… a torch,” Jimin exhales in relief. He bends his knees, presses his palms onto his thighs as he tries to still his heart. “Jumpscared by a torch .” 

Over the sound of Taehyung’s shocked laugh, Seokjin asks, “Was that you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s swallow is audible. “It was not.” 

The creeping sense of dread smooths down Jeongguk’s spine, all the way to his fingertips. “There’s no oxygen in here,” he says, thinking aloud. 

“Obviously,” Taehyung remarks helpfully. 

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk gestures to the torch that lights up the staircase. “No, I mean-- there shouldn’t be a fire. There’s no oxygen for it to feed on.” 

All eyes turn towards the piece of wood that burns from its sconce. The shadows the flame casts bounce around in the darkness, shivering and shaking until Jeongguk can make out the sandstone-looking rocks beneath their feet. 

Namjoon sucks in a quick inhale. “Unless…”

“Unless?” the others ask in unison. 

“Unless there is oxygen,” he finishes, biting his lip. Namjoon squints his eyes, looks around. “Who’s to say? There are marks of a sandstorm outside, which shouldn’t be there; there’s gravity in this corridor, which shouldn’t be there; and now there’s a flame .” 

Yoongi dismisses the thought with a brief shake of his head. “That’s impossible. Chemistry doesn’t just change,” he denies. 

“It could be magic,” Jimin suggests. Jeongguk watches as Jimin looks around. Jimin eyes the staircase from side to side, drinking it in with new consideration shining in his eyes. “It could be spelled. This whole place could be spelled.”

Yoongi whistles, low and slow. “It’d be a hell of an enchantment,” he mutters, but it’s not a denial. “Making an atmosphere takes an incredible amount of energy. And to fake gravity? Without technology, it’s pretty improbable.” 

“Should we test it?” Seokjin chimes in. He stands at the back of the group near the top of the staircase. His brows pull towards his hairline as he listens. 

“One of us would have to take their helmet off,” Namjoon sighs with a shake of his head. “It’s too dangerous. Not worth the risk.”

Jimin shrugs. “Or Yoongi could just try to cast a fire spell. If it works, there’s oxygen. If it doesn’t, there’s-”

Jimin’s proposition is cut off by Taehyung’s sudden movement. 

Jeongguk doesn’t see him coming, focused as he is on the discussion happening behind him. All he sees is a flash of motion in his peripheral vision, and then there’s the distinct ‘shhhhhh’ sound at the back of his head that indicates his suit’s being decompressed. 

His heartbeat jumps into his throat as the others scream in shock, eyes widening in horror as Taehyung grabs Jeongguk’s helmet and tugs it clean off of his head. 

Don’t breathe! Jeongguk coaches internally, because there could be any number of things swirling in the air that could potentially kill him, but Jeongguk can’t help the involuntary gasp that rushes into his lungs.

When he doesn’t immediately die, Jeongguk takes in another unsteady inhale. It’s breathable, for sure. And when the initial panic subsides and his lungs fill to the brim with fresh air, Jeongguk whirls on his heel. 

He clutches Taehyung by his collar with one hand, walking him back to press him against the wall. It doesn’t even take much effort to push Taehyung up to his tip-toes. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi curses in exasperation as Taehyung bleats nervously, legs kicking out aimlessly.

Jeongguk brings Taehyung up until he’s at eye level, levels him with a cold glare, and deadpans so flat that it sends shivers up his own spine, “I will kill you. One day, soon preferably, I will end your sorry fucking life.” 

Taehyung’s eyes flicker with nerves, but his voice is level as he grins, “You didn’t die, though. And hey-- the air’s fine!” As if to prove it, Taehyung brings his own shaking hands up to grip along the neck of his suit. He decompresses his helmet, pops it off with a little ‘puff’ of air. 

“See?” he smiles triumphantly, like he’s not pressed against a wall by someone almost two feet taller than him. “It smells like ass out here, but it’s totally breathable!”

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that you risked Jeongguk’s life on a hypothesis?” Seokjin grits out angrily. 

Taehyung just shrugs. “I was right.”

“You couldn’t have known that,” Jimin accuses, and he sounds almost upset , like it matters to him what could’ve happened. 

“Well, as much as I now thoroughly regret my actions, at least we know. It’s safe down here,” Taehyung defends. He slaps on Jeongguk’s arms, asking to be let down. 

And as much as Jeongguk would like to pivot on his heel and hurl Taehyung clean down the stairs, he doesn’t. Barely. It takes every single ounce of self-control in his body, but Jeongguk lets Taehyung fall to a heap on the floor with a satisfying ‘thump!’ 

Another decompression hiss sounds from behind Jeongguk. He turns in surprise as Namjoon lifts the helmet off of his head.

Namjoon sniffs the air, tasting it as it rushes down his lungs. “This is extraordinary,” he breathes out. His eyes go wide again, and Jeongguk can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“That’s one way to put it,” Yoongi grouses, but he tugs his own helmet off a second later. Seokjin and Jimin follow suit, until the six of them are standing in the middle of an oxygenated stairwell in a temple on an asteroid. 

Jeongguk’s really having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that this is his life now. 

“So what’re we looking for exactly?” Yoongi prompts, ushering them to continue on their way down the straight staircase. 

More torches light as they pass, extinguishing once the group moves on. Seokjin makes a ‘fuck if I know’ sound and offers, “We’ll know it when we see it, hopefully.” 

“How?”

“...blind faith?” 

There’s a beat of silence, and then Taehyung is huffing out a laugh. “You’re gonna be an interesting emperor, aren’t you?”

Seokjin makes an entirely too satisfied noise, but Jeongguk is too busy tilting his head to the side as they descend further. He squints into the darkness, because he could’ve sworn that he just heard-

And there it is again. A faint, almost inconceivably soft noise that sounds a lot like the tinkling of piano keys. It lilts softly up the staircase towards them. 

“Does anybody hear that?” Jeongguk asks, confusion weighing his words down. 

The group goes quiet as they come to a halt on the staircase once again. Jeongguk strains to make out any more noise, like the telltale murmuring of voices to signal that there are people down there in the darkness, but he can’t hear anything other than the soft music. 

“Oh,” Jimin says into the quiet, so close that Jeongguk almost jumps out of his skin. “Huh,” Jimin mutters. “It sounds like-”

Namjoon lets out an incredulous laugh. “Is that-”

“Wait, is that seriously-” Seokjin grimaces. 

Yoongi groans, low in his throat as the weight of the world settles on his shoulders. “Is that fucking muzak?”

It is indeed muzak, Jeongguk realizes. The same kind that pumps into street markets and hotel lobbies. It climbs up the staircase, jaunting its way through the darkness. There’s a heartbeat or two of perfect silence as everyone in the group exchanges a look .

Taehyung takes off a moment later, vaulting down the stairs two at a time in his haste to rush for the bottom. Jeongguk rushes after to either pull him out of impending danger or potentially push him further into it.

  (He’s still mad about the helmet debacle.) 

Footsteps pound down the rocky staircase as the music increases in volume. Jeongguk barely manages to get his feet onto the landing at the bottom of the staircase before Taehyung is throwing the heavy door open.

Light, blinding and bright-white, spills into the staircase. Jeongguk hisses against the sting. He brings his hand up to shield his poor retinas as they scream in protest. The others behind him make similar sounds as they wait for the painful light to fade and then-

They’re in a department store. 

“What the fuck,” Jimin says, voice flat and unimpressed. 

Jeongguk blinks, because there’s no way that this is real.

Ahead of him stretches a long, wide walkway. The ceiling is flat and low, and the copper, gold, and silver tassels that hang from the light fixtures come down to nearly brush the top of Jeongguk’s head. The floor is tiled with rust red, octagonal bricks. There’s a fine sheen of dust that coats the entire room, particles stirred up and spinning through the air at Taehyung’s dramatic entrance. 

The entire space is cluttered to hell. Small archways open to the left and to the right, but there are so many wooden desks and jewelry displays that Jeongguk honestly doesn’t know how anyone could possibly fit through them. The claustrophobic effect is only worsened by the fact that not a single one of the surfaces is clear. 

Small clocks of varying shapes and sizes tick away on abandoned writing desks; bustiers of all sorts display gaudy pearl and gold jewelry; cracked mirrors, multicolored hats, featured boas, and model ships clutter the surrounding tables until the atmosphere in the room feels so thick that Jeongguk can’t breathe. 

Through it all, muzak plays in the background. 

Seokjin takes a deep, cleansing breath. “So, you’re telling me that, somehow, something in this general area is going to help us save the Galaxy.” He looks at a chipped copper lamp by his right elbow, clearly unimpressed. “One of these tchotchkes is going to save the literal universe .”

From a few yards ahead, Taehyung’s blue head of hair pops around a corner. He holds up a glass perfume atomizer that’s been sculpted into the likeness of an Earthside Moyen poodle. “Do you think it’s this?” Taehyung asks, gaze caught on how the light from the ceiling lamps refracts through the clear glass. “Gods, I hope it’s this.” 

Namjoon surveys the room. His face falls the longer he looks. Jeongguk guesses that it’s because of the fact that, of all the things that Namjoon must’ve been imagining at the bottom of a staircase in an ancient, magical temple, this was the last thing he was expecting. 

“Should we split up to look for whatever it is?” Namjoon sighs, completely resigned to his fate. 

Yoongi grunts. “Is that wise?” 

“Probably not.” It’s Seokjin who speaks, running a hand through his hair and watching Taehyung bounce between the display cases. “But we’ll cover more ground that way. Lessen the time we spend here.”

Jimin nods enthusiastically. “Please.”

“Then, Taehyung-- you look in the hallway to the right,” Seokjin instructs. “And don’t steal anything.”

Taehyung gasps. “How rude.”

“And take that poodle out of your pocket.” 

“How rude,” Taehyung echoes, though his hand slowly removes the perfume bottle from the pocket of his spacesuit. 

Seokjin doesn’t spare him another second. He faces Namjoon. “You and Yoongi cover the main room. I’ll take Jimin to the left, and Jeongguk-- you take the creepy storage room in the back.” 

Jeongguk looks at the beaten-up wooden door on the far side of the room. Open me, and death will befall you, it’s squeaky hinges seem to say. Jeongguk resists the urge to sigh. 

“Got it.”

Nodding, Seokjin announces, “Great. Regroup here in thirty minutes.” He spins on his heel, grabs Jimin by the elbow, and lugs him out of the room and into the next. 

Taehyung is in the middle of saying something else, but Jeongguk doesn’t stick around long enough to hear it. The sooner they find what they’re looking for, the sooner they can get the hell out of here. 

He makes his way past the rows of antique tables that Taehyung fawns over. Jeongguk reaches the wooden door, ducks down to avoid smacking his head on the lintel, and tugs it open. It shrieks in protest as it goes, just like Jeongguk thought it would, but he walks through it anyway. 

The moment he enters the back room, he’s immediately reminded of just how much the universe hates him. The first thing that Jeongguk sees is a three-foot tall doll with chipped paint and a broken eye, sitting on the table directly across from the door. It almost gives him a fucking heart attack. 

Almost . 

Jeongguk plays it cool, brushing off his fear. “Wow, this is awful,” he mutters to himself. He has to duck under the rafters that split the ceiling, making his way past an old vanity studded with little golden stars and an old metal bed frame. 

“Huh,” he murmurs as he ventures further into the back room. There are old pots and pans tacked to the walls. Plastic glasses of varying neon colors line a rickety-looking shelf. He passes the shelves, running his finger along the ledges as he goes. 

He wrinkles his nose as he ducks underneath an alarmingly large cobweb, not even wasting time wondering how a spider got in here. 

Jeongguk catches sight of himself in one of the mirrors across the way. His hair is a bit longer than usual, and there are blue-black bags under his eyes, but Jeongguk still tosses himself a smile. “Looking good,” he catcalls to himself, and then immediately wonders what the fuck he’s doing. 

He’s been spending too much time with Seokjin and Taehyung, that’s for sure. 

A little of Jeongguk’s curiosity dies as he passes the mirror. There’s nothing in here but crap. It’s piled high and painted in exciting colors, but it’s crap nonetheless. This is not what he imagined when he pulled out a ticket from a machine that read the future. 

Just as Jeongguk’s about to cut his losses and return to the main room, he catches sight of a door. It’s attached to an adjacent wall, tucked away underneath a pile of hardwood chairs, nearly hidden in their shadow. 

“Oh, hello,” Jeongguk calls to the door, “What’re you doing here?” 

He crouches down in front of it. It’s only about three feet tall, and is made of a wood so dark and glossy it looks like marble. Rubies, sapphires, and emeralds stud the arch of the door-- and unlike the rest of the shit in here, they look real . The arcs that the jewels form frame the lettering painted across the top of the door in Common Tongue. 

Jeongguk traces the word with his fingers, reading:

ANANSE

As his fingers brush the pigment, a shiver rushes through him. It’s hard and cold and fast , and it tells Jeongguk that this -- this is what they’re looking for. 

“Hey, guys?” Jeongguk hollars at the top of his lungs, “I found it!” 

Something crashes in one of the rooms that flank Jeongguk’s, and then Jimin is stumbling into the room. There’s a fine layer of dust coating his hair and a strange gleam in his eye. He brushes down his clothes, kneeling next to Jeongguk to look at the door. “Found what? What is this?” 

A cautionary whisper scratches to life in Jeongguk’s head. He looks over his shoulder, back towards the doorway that Jimin came through. “Where’s Seokjin?” he asks carefully.

Jimin’s eyes are glued to the door. “Oh, he’s coming,” Jimin hums under his breath. He waves his hair loftily. It’s clearly supposed to be casual, meant to ease Jeongguk’s suspicious, but Jeongguk’s intuition is practically screaming at him.

It roils to life beneath the surface of his skin, but before he can open his mouth and ask one of the thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, the others are filing into the back room. 

“What is it?” Yoongi asks as he walks up, looking completely over this whole experience. “Find anything useful?” 

Jeongguk turns back towards the door. It’s aura intensifies, practically pulsing through Jeongguk’s blood. “I’m not sure yet.”

“What’s with the door?” Jimin asks. He stretches out his fingers, brushing along the hardwood for a second, and then he viscerally recoils. It sounds like a hiss starts to rumble in the base of Jimin’s throat, but he chokes it down immediately.

Pretending like he didn’t just notice Jimin’s reaction, Jeongguk tosses back, “I have yet to find out.” 

“Any idea what’s behind it?” 

“Does it look open to you?” Jeongguk piques up an eyebrow as Jimin frowns moodily. 

Taehyung sniffs. “Everybody here has so much attitude,” he complains, like he doesn’t contribute to the attitude problem himself. He furrows his brow as he looks around the cramped room. “Hey- where’s the love of my life?”

“Seokjin?” Namjoon hazards a guess.

Jeongguk feels Jimin stiffen just a bit against his side. Jimin clears his throat, says, “He’s coming. He had to-”

“I’m here,” Seokjin’s voice rings out in the claustrophobic back room. 

Jeongguk whips his head around so fast that his neck pops. He gives Seokjin a quick once-over. He looks fine; Seokjin certainly doesn’t look like he’s been bodily injured or anything similar, but Jimin’s acting way too off-put for nothing to have happened. 

As Seokjin brushes into the room and asks, “What’re we looking at?” Jeongguk notices the difference. 

Seokjin’s eyes are a little red. The veins in his sclera are larger than they should be, as though they’ve been irritated by a chemical or some kind of pressure. Jeongguk drinks in his appearance and tries to puzzle out why the eyes look so familiar. 

It takes a minute before Jeongguk makes the connection. Namjoon looked the same way a few days ago, after he’d been-

After he’d been alone with Jimin, Jeongguk realizes as his heart drops and races. He-  

The sound of Jimin’s lilting voice breaks Jeongguk out of his spiraling thoughts. “Jeongguk’s keeping us in suspense with a closed door.” He turns to look at Jeongguk, a flicker of annoyance lingering behind his green-grey eyes.

Jeongguk wets his lips, suddenly nervous. “Oh, shut up,” he teases with what he hopes is a passably confident voice. But Jimin’s eyes don’t waver-- they just scan Jeongguk’s face back and forth, back and forth, until Jeongguk has to physically turn away.

Heat rises to his cheeks from the intense scrutiny. Jeongguk lurches forward, grabs the handle of the door, and flings it open so hard that it almost goes ripping off of its hinges. The distraction works though, because Jimin’s head swivels away from Jeongguk to peer into the softly glowing darkness beyond. 

“Any takers for first place?” Jeongguk tries to joke. He gestures towards the door and the unknown room beyond.

It really shouldn’t surprise him at this point, but Taehyung springs forward so fast that Jeongguk falls out of his crouch and onto his ass. “Me!” Taehyung yelps as he crawls through the little door. 

“Someone make sure that he doesn’t die, please,” Seokjin sighs heavily as Taehyung’s bottom disappears from view. 

Yoongi grumbles under his breath, but he lowers to the group and follows Taehyung. Namjoon goes after, and Seokjin clambers through a moment later. 

There are already sounds of amazement echoing from the other side of the doorway, so Jeongguk kneels again in preparation. Before he enters into the void head-on, he casts one last glance back at Jimin’s form. 

“You coming?” he calls back. 

Jimin looks down at him. His face is dark, impassive. “After you,” Jimin says, velvety smooth in a way that sends unease lighting up Jeongguk’s spine. He looms in the room, and Jeongguk swears that he sees Jimin’s shadow expanding to fill up the space. 

It’s probably another trick of the light. 

Breathe, Jeongguk, Jeongguk soothes as he starts making his way through the crawlspace. Keep your hand close to your chest. Don’t let him catch on.

The tunnel connecting the two rooms is surprisingly small. All it takes is a few shuffled steps forward, and then Jeongguk comes face-to-face with what has to easily be the most fairytale-esque room he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

It’s a cave, made of some kind of dark volcanic rock. Geodes of all colors poke out of the walls, and the light from the campfire that burns in the middle of the room catches on them, sending green and purple and red shadows across the room. 

There are orange-yellow rugs spread across the floor and calligraphy-covered scrolls lining the walls. Spiderwebs cling to the walls, sticky and thick, and they’re the only detraction from the otherwise-impeccable cavern.

“What is this?” Jeongguk can’t even try to keep the surprise out of his voice. This is what he’d been expecting from the temple’s facade, not whatever the hell department store is outside. Inside, the aura of power that Jeongguk felt the door give off is so strong that it makes his stomach turn. 

Namjoon’s voice is little more than a whisper as he replies, “It’s a den.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung chokes out from across the room, “A den?” 

Yoongi draws in a sharp intake of breath. He points to a far corner of the room that’s practically covered in expensively-dyed silks. “There are blankets over there, and a chair. Someone lives here.” 

“Then where are they?” Jimin’s voice echoes around the cavernous space in a way that makes Jeongguk shiver. “And when are they coming back?” 

The question makes the pressure on Jeongguk’s chest grow until it practically suffocates him, because something tells him that they do not want to stick around long enough to figure out what lives in here. 

Just as he’s about to suggest that they sweep the interior and fucking book it , Namjoon runs his finger along the wall as he frowns, deep in thought. “I’m not sure, but,” he murmurs, “Something about this doesn’t feel right. It’s the gravity, and the fire, and the temple. And now this , especially after the rooms outside, it just-- it doesn’t add up.” 

He turns, narrows his eyes. “Jeongguk, what did the lettering on the door say?” 

“Ananse,” Jeongguk supplies easily. Saying the word out loud seems to make the room’s atmosphere thicken. 

“Ananse,” Namjoon exhales. “Where have I heard that before?” 

Seokjin goes to examine the blankets in the corner. “Should we be worried? Is it a creature, or something? A deadly one?” 

“I’m not sure, but I-”

“ Spider!” Jimin suddenly shrieks loud enough to have Jeongguk reaching for the guns on his thighs. The scream is so loud that Jeongguk is expecting the spider to be the size of a Pixie, but the bug that skitters across the floor is a little smaller than his pinky nail. 

Jeongguk exhales through his nose, trying to keep his irritation at bay. “Seriously?” he groans, lifting his boot as Jimin urges him with his eyes to kill the spider, “I can just-”

“Wait!” Taehyung exclaims as he suddenly appears right at Jeongguk’s side. 

Jimin bristles. “Why?” 

“Because it’s-” Taehyung breaks off as he drops to his knees. He leans down so far that the spider is at eye level, standing stock-still on its eight legs. Taehyung blinks. “...because it’s wearing jewelry.”

Yoongi, who was in no way paying attention to the inane conversation happening, suddenly interjects, “It’s what?” 

The next few seconds will go down as some of the weirdest and most horrifying in Jeongguk’s life. 

The spider shudders, shaking from side to side. And then, all at once, it expands. The spider grows-- its legs lengthen as its abdomen swells to the size of a small rock, and then to the size of a foot, and then to the size of a small chair. 

In the background, Namjoon lets out a surprised shout, but Jeongguk can’t move. 

Taehyung and Jimin scurry away from the spider as it’s legs grow taller than their bodies, disgusted retching ringing in the background. 

Then, all at once, the growth stops. Until what stands before Jeongguk is a massive tarantula. It’s taller than him, taller than an Earthen adult black bear. It towers over them all, its blue-furred legs practically caging Jeongguk underneath it, jaws dripping and snapping. 

And it is wearing jewelry. Gold and silver cuffs wrap around each of its eight legs, and there are chains dripping from its jaws. A gold-plated gourd is strapped to the back of the spider’s body with a ruby-studded leather belt.

“Holy fucking shit,” Namjoon’s whispered chant breaks the horrified silence. “Is that a spider. Is that a giant spider. Is that a massive spider.” 

“Are these statements or questions?” Yoongi hisses. 

Jeongguk tilts his head up and back. He’s standing under the abdomen of a tarantula large enough to make him feel small, but- but he doesn’t feel afraid. There’s no visceral horror, no disgust curling through his stomach. All there is is wonder, because up close, Jeongguk realizes that the power in the room is coming from this . 

Namjoon shudders. “Oh, my gods. That’s-”

As if this couldn’t get any more strange, the spider speaks. 

“Mind your tongue, boy ,” it spits at Namjoon. Its voice is thick and slurred, dripping with venom as it focuses one of its stark-white eyes on each of them. 

Namjoon pales, but he can’t quite seem to keep himself from muttering out, “Oh. Oh, wow . It makes sense- you’re-”

“ Ananse,” the spider clicks, and the word floats around the room like a spell. The name grows and grows, spreading itself until the weight of it seems to have a gravity of its own. The spider-- Ananse-- hisses and clicks its mandibles, spitting, “And you’re not welcome here.” 

Jeongguk takes a step back, suddenly coming to grips with the fact that this is actually happening . 

“What’s an ‘Ananse’?” Taehyung blurts. He claps a hand over his mouth as the spider scuttles around to face him at lightspeed. 

“ I am Ananse-- God of Knowledge. Master of Tales,” Ananse introduces, legs clicking against the bedrock. 

Jimin subtly sidles up to Jeongguk, whispers surreptitiously, “Why did your ticket lead us to a god? And one that owns a shitty department store, no less.” 

Jeongguk’s gaze tilts down. He looks at Jimin, more than a little surprised at how unconcerned Jimin seems to be with this whole situation. The others-- Seokjin and Yoongi included-- are practically hugging the walls, shrinking away from the monumental god in front of them.

It’s not Jeongguk’s first time dealing with a god, but he can’t help but wonder if Jimin has been through something similar before or if he just genuinely has no self-preservation instincts. 

“Is now really the time to discuss this?” Jeongguk hisses back. 

He tries to keep quiet so as to not interrupt Ananse’s introductory speech, but he’s not quiet enough. Faster than Jeongguk can process, Ananse spins. Its feet scuttle across the floor alarmingly fast until its pincers are inches from Jimin’s face. Jeongguk takes a startled step back, but Jimin doesn’t move a muscle.

“Watch your tongue, boy, or I’ll just have to snip it off,” Ananse threatens. 

A gob of clear drool drips from the god’s mouth as it doles out the warning. It lands with a ‘schlorp’ on Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin reaches up, brushes it away, completely unphased. He actually looks bored as he huffs into the face of a god:

“Don’t call me ‘boy’.” 

From across the cavernous space, Yoongi whisper-yells, “ Jimin.”

Remarkably, Ananse doesn’t dip down and snap Jimin’s head off of his shoulders. The god narrows its eyes, looks Jimin up and down. “Why are you here?” it demands, voice booming, “How did you find me?” 

Jeongguk forces himself to speak up before Jimin can make this situation worse. “We visited The Moirai. I played The Fates, and the ticket led us here.” 

If Jeongguk didn’t know any better, he’d say that the spider-god actually sighs . “Ah, my stupid cousin,” Ananse harrumphs, “She always sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

The spider tilts its head to the side, chains on its jaws clinking as it moves. “Tell me-- how’s Nyx’s debauched little enclave holding up?”

“I think we destroyed it,” Taehyung chooses that precise moment to chime back into the conversation.

“Tae-” Namjoon starts to choke out in warning, but he’s cut off by the sound of Ananse’s raucous laughter. 

The spider’s legs stamp, mandibles snapping together joyfully as it savors the moment. “ Delightful,” it lisps, “She always did have it coming, thinking that she knew more than all of us. More than me! Imagine that.” 

Seokjin takes a bold step forward, apparently tired of the conversation. Jeongguk watches as Seokjin approaches the god head-on. “Not to be forward, but-” Seokjin gestures around, tilts his head, “You must have something we need, if her ticket led us to you.”

What looks like a spider-version of a grin splits Ananse’s features. “I am the Keeper of Knowledge,” it says. “I can tell you anything you need to know.”

Jeongguk’s eyes trace the spider as it springs up and onto one of the adjacent walls, climbing about on the rocky-ceiling, stopping only once it’s clinging to the outcropping directly above Jeongguk’s head. 

“That’s fantastic,” Taehyung exclaims enthusiastically. “Just what we need. If you could just tell us, Your Spidery Highness, we will be on our merry way.” 

The god scoffs. “Not so fast, I’m afraid. All things come with a cost.” 

Jeongguk wants to sigh. Of course they’re being charged. Here they are, face-to-face with a god who could literally manipulate the world around it-- who has everything it needs at its fingertips-- and who’s asking for more . 

Greed really transcends all, huh? Jeongguk grumbles to himself. 

“And what’s your price?” he calls to the arachnoid on the ceiling. 

It hisses back, “I want a memory.” 

Taehyung groans. “Are you sure we couldn’t convince you to part with your wisdom for the price of some items from your shop? They’re just sitting there, gathering dust.”

“That’s my art collection,” the god frowns. “It’s not for sale.”

“Oh.” Taehyung clutches at something suspiciously poodle-shaped in his pocket. 

Namjoon steps up. “A memory, huh? I can do that. It sounds easy enough.”

“Not you,” Ananse interrupts. It lifts one leg from its hold on the ceiling, points it right at Jimin. “From him.” 

The hairs on the back of Jeongguk’s neck rise. They tell him to watch, to listen, to ask, “Him? Why him?”

The spider-god speaks, “He knows why.” It levels Jimin with a look, one that brooks no arguments.

 Jimin doesn’t back down. He stares right back up at the ceiling, challenging the god suspended above his head like he’s the stronger one out of the two of them. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Jimin shoots back, saccharine sweet. 

“Ahh, so secretive, aren’t you?” Ananse chuckles, skittering across the ceiling. “Foolish little Alchemist. The two faces you wear are going to eat you alive. So ease your burden-- let me into your head; feed me something about you that stings.” 

The two faces. Jeongguk’s breath hitches. 

“And why should I?” Jimin volleys right back. He stands strong and tall. 

Unafraid. 

In a heartbeat, Ananse drops to the floor. Jeongguk jumps back as the god lands right where he’d been standing, at Jimin’s throat once again. 

“Because I’ll strip the flesh from your bones.” The threat carries the promise of violence, and Ananse’s eyes gleam dangerously at the continuous challenge. 

Finally, Jimin concedes. “You want a memory?” he spits at the god’s feet, “Fine. Here’s your memory.” 

Jimin talks, and the cave around seems to darken and fold in on itself. 

“When I was born, the universe shook,” Jimin’s voice carries, “I remember it-- the feeling of being powerful enough to quake the heavens. I was a drop of excellence in a sea of ordinary bodies, born into a world that didn’t understand all I had to offer.” 

And Jimin laughs, dark and low and off enough that Jeongguk actually shivers. 

“So I took, and I took, and I made it my own.” Jimin widens his arms, green-grey eyes swirling in the firelight. “And now-- now it’s mine .” 

What the fuck, Jeongguk thinks in a panic, What the actual fuck. 

He shares a room with this man. He sleeps with his back to this man. This- thing that stands in the room, challenging a god. 

“It is not yours,” Ananse counters angrily. 

Jimin just shrugs. “Not yet it’s not.” 

“You lack patience. You lack poise, and empathy, and so much more.” Ananse’s body shudders as it exhales vehemently. 

Silence descends and swells. It claws down Jeongguk’s throat, leaving him staring in terrified shock at Jimin’s smaller frame. Jimin stands by Jeongguk’s side, but he seems so much larger than his body. 

“You’ve got your memory,” Seokjin interrupts weakly. “A deal’s a deal.” 

Ananse blinks its eyes, one at a time. “I suppose it is,” the god sneers. It shakes it’s abdomen, and Jeongguk thinks that he sees flecks of starlight shooting out of the golden gourd on the spider’s back. The god’s eyes shine bright white-- the same white that Jeongguk saw in Nyx’s eyes back in The Moirai. 

“One of you is marked,” Ananse says. 

Namjoon coughs. “...metaphorically?” 

One of Ananse’s legs rises, and Jeongguk feels the world slow down as it comes up to point at-- him. 

“You. You have something on you. Something permanent,” the god speaks. 

It takes a minute before Jeongguk remembers the tattoo on the back of his neck. It’s been there since Jeongguk first woke up in the training camps with no idea who he was. He’s had it for so long that he almost forgot about it. 

“Oh. This?” Jeongguk turns, tugs down the back of his spacesuit just far enough to expose the inked circles that hug the entire back of his neck. “It’s the only thing I have marked on me.”

Ananse shakes its head, leg coming back down to the ground. “That is no regular marking. Look closer,” it instructs. One of its other legs reaches for something tucked away in a thin crevasse, comes back out with a shard of mirrored glass. It holds it up to Jeongguk until he can see his reflection.

“Look at the circles. It is not a meaningless pattern. Search the ink; think of the night,” Ananse urges. 

Jeongguk is only vaguely aware of the way the others all crowd around him, eager to get a glimpse of Jeongguk’s tattoo-- like he hasn’t had it this entire time. 

It’s Yoongi who gasps first. “Oh, no way. That’s a star chart!”

“It is?” Jeongguk mutters, craning around to see the back of his neck in the mirror. And- it actually does look like a star chart. He almost feels stupid for not noticing the rings, the purposeful dots. “Oh. Shit .”

Seokjin eyes the markings closely. He frowns. “Why would the Tactical Force commanders tattoo a star chart on the back of their soldiers’ necks?” 

Unfortunately, Ananse seems to reach its helpfulness threshold. “That is not for me to say,” it mutters cryptically as it sticks the mirror back into its hiding place. 

“Why?” Jimin demands, anger riding high in his tone. “If you can help us stop the end of the universe, you need to tell us.”

Ananse doesn’t spare him a single look. “I don’t need to do anything,” it remarks offhandedly, “I’ve said my piece. It’s time for you to leave and follow it.” 

Jeongguk splutters, mind reeling from all of the input he’s just received. “That’s it?” he asks, “Do we just, what, follow the star chart literally inked onto my neck? How are we even supposed to find the night sky it aligns with? There are trillions of stars in the Outer Reaches alone, and we’re just supposed to magically find the right ones?” 

“The university on Earane has an observatory,” Seokjin jumps in before Jeongguk can rile up a god. “We’re going there anyway. Yoongi can match the chart to the sky. Set us a new course.” 

It’s a good suggestion, a great suggestion, but Jeongguk still can’t seem to shake that little bit of desperation that clings to his skin. He’s here, standing in front of the God of Knowledge-- the one being in the universe that can answer all of his questions.

Who am I? Jeongguk wants to ask. Was I a good person? Can I ever be a good person? 

He swallows the questions back, asks instead, “Are you sure you can’t tell us anything else? Nothing?” 

Not even about me? He doesn’t say.

But Ananse seems to hear it anyway. The spider turns, looks at Jeongguk with sympathy in its eyes. “You’ve suffered. It’s apparent. And yes, I do believe that you deserve to know where you came from, but-” 

The god’s eyes stray from Jeongguk’s face, flickering briefly over to Jimin, who stands stoically at Jeongguk’s side. 

“But now is not the time for secrets to come out.” 

Ananse flicks a leg, and the door to the exit slams open unceremoniously. “Now is the time for you all to leave. All of you. You’re in danger of overstaying your welcome.” 

Remarkably, no one argues. Jeongguk figures that they’re all still a little shell-shocked, and he shuffles along after the others as Yoongi and Seokjin disappear through the doorway first. Disappointment settles like a curse in his blood. It’s cold and heavy, so fucking heavy , but honestly-- what was Jeongguk expecting? 

To be handed out his past on a silver platter? To actually catch a lucky break for once? 

That doesn’t happen to people like him. It doesn’t, because people like him don’t deserve it. 

They don’t-

A leg, furry and just a tad sticky, lands on Jeongguk’s shoulder. It tugs him back as Taehyung disappears into the door. 

Jeongguk whirls, looking at the spider-god who holds him back from following the others. He’s about to open his mouth and ask, but then Ananse is speaking, rushed and quiet. 

“Listen close and listen well,” the god clicks out, “There is one in your group who you cannot trust.”

Jeongguk feels his heart stop beating. He knows where this is going, but he still mutters a confused, “What?” 

“Him,” Ananse hisses. Jeongguk doesn’t need to see where the god is pointing to know that it means Jimin. 

Jimin, who lingers by the door, the only other person still in the room with Jeongguk and the god. 

Jimin, whose eyes darken in suspicion at the hushed tones being traded in the cavern. 

“Do not trust him,” Ananse warns. His mandibles are right next to Jeongguk’s neck, but Jeongguk is more afraid of the god’s words than potential death. “The person you think that you see is not so real after all.” 

The leg on Jeongguk’s arm disappears as Ananse begins to shrink back down to regular size. 

“What does that mean?” Jeongguk whispers desperately, grasping at straws. “What’s wrong with him? Is he cursed? Is he-”

But it’s no use. Ananse is gone, shrunken back into a tiny spider that scurries across the cold stone floor. 

From the doorway, Jimin calls, “Jeongguk? Are you coming?” 

Jeongguk turns. “I-” he casts one more glance around the cavern, already losing sight of the god. “Yeah. I am.” 

He shuffles past Jimin, mind whirling as he ducks down and heads back up the tunnel, into the darkness beyond. 

Jeongguk shivers as he hears the words in his head, pushing through the shadows. 

The person you think that you see is not so real after all. 

🌔

The man stands in the cavern. Everyone else has already gone through the door. They’ve made their way into the other room.

He remains in the firelit cavern. Anger pulses between his skin, hot and heady, but the man pushes it down. 

He crosses the floor, eyes picking out the little, tiny spider that rushes away from him. 

The man’s lips pull up into a snarl. “A god?” he sneers venomously. “Please.”

He bends down, catches the spider between his fingers, and lifts it up. “Warning him is a little desperate, isn’t it?” the man laughs to himself. “Like that will do anything.” 

“But how can it? You’re nothing more than a single, insignificant blip in the universe. You’re a pest and nothing more.” 

The man lifts the spider high, tilts his head back, drops the spider straight into his mouth.

He crushes the body between his teeth and swallows. 

“And now, you’re not.” 

A smile splits the man’s face. He licks his lips, savoring the flavor of ending a life. 

“Jimin?” Taehyung’s voice bounces down the tunnel. “Where are you?”

The man clears his throat. 

“Coming!” he calls back. 

Without a single backwards glance, the man heads towards the tunnel. He envelops himself in the darkness and heads to meet his destiny. 

The door shuts with a ‘snick’ behind him. 

Chapter Text

Jimin sits at the table. It’s white, stretches nearly all the way across the emptiness ahead of him. He’s surrounded by complete darkness, but there’s a thin sheen of what feels like sticky water underneath the soles of his bare feet. The water licks at the legs of the table, the chairs, red-tinted in the low lighting. 

Jimin doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have it in him at this point; it’s been so long since Jimin has felt anything in this place that he just stares at the Thing sitting at the other end of the table. 

“Are you sitting comfortably?” the Thing gurgles out. It has a pen in its hand, taps it against its temple. Emerald green eyes flash from the depths of its shadowy face. 

Jimin doesn’t reply. He can’t. He doesn’t have the energy. 

“Great,” the Thing smiles, teeth rotting away with decay as it levels Jimin with a look vile enough to make him shudder. 

“Then we’ll begin.” 

The pen clicks. 

🌑

“They really weren’t joking about the acid rain,” Seokjin’s voice cuts through the tense silence of the main deck. “Is the hull going to be okay?”

Jeongguk casts a glance outside of the windowed wall. Yoongi pilots the craft down through the thunderheads that seal the surface of the planet off from the rest of the sky; raindrops fall onto the ship as it passes, hissing and spitting against the walls. Jeongguk watches a drop trace its way down the windowpane. 

His eyelids feel like they’re made of sandpaper when he blinks them. Jeongguk has been on edge ever since they’d visited Ananse last week. He can’t stop hearing the god’s warning ringing through his ears-- it keeps him up at night, squinting in the darkness at Jimin’s back to make sure that he’s still there. To make sure that he’s not causing any problems. 

Everyone else seems to feel the new tension that lives in Jeongguk’s body. They’re more careful around him than they were before, and Jeongguk sort of wants to scream at all of them, but he can’t. Telling them all about Jimin would only make things more stressful, and they’re already dealing with enough. 

Jeongguk can handle this on his own. Whatever this is. 

So he keeps his eyes glued on Jimin, who sits on the opposite side of the hull. His eyes are closed, like he’s mulling something over in his head instead of paying attention to their slow descent onto Earane’s surface. 

Yoongi’s voice crackles through the intercom. “It should be fine. I enchanted the ship to withstand quite a bit of wear and tear,” he reassures from the cockpit. “We will have to land sometime soon, though. The school itself looks like it has some pretty heavy wards up.” 

It’s true-- even from miles away, Jeongguk can see the shimmering, translucent dome that encircles the spires of the grey-stone university. He’s not an Alchemist, or a scholar, or anywhere near well-read enough to know what the markings that flit across the dome mean, but he’s willing to trust Yoongi’s judgement. 

Namjoon makes a noise of agreement. He sits by Jeongguk’s side, eyes tracing the canopy of the coniferous trees that they pass over. Namjoon sucks in his cheeks, biting down in thought. “Why does everything look so untouched?” 

“Maybe the wards protected it?” Taehyung hazards a guess. He cranes his neck to peer over Jeongguk’s shoulder and out at the world beyond. His gaze skims over the perfectly preserved university, the trees that still reach towards the sky despite the rain that beats them down, the seemingly unkempt cobblestone pathways that cut through the scenery. 

“From a Demon?” Namjoon frowns, “Seems unlikely. It destroyed Xeada entirely. Do you really think that wards alone are strong enough to keep this thing at bay?” 

A shudder of anxiety wracks Jeongguk’s body. This is another tiny detail; it adds to the swirling pieces of information that don’t line up about Jimin’s story, piles on top of all Jeongguk’s existing questions until he feels like his spine is going to snap under the pressure. 

The fact that the Demon left this place untouched speaks volumes. Jeongguk just isn’t sure what it’s saying. “Why leave it alone?” Jeongguk mutters under his breath. He doesn’t mean to say it, but the words tumble out faster than he can bite them back. 

“Who knows? It’s a Demon . Why are we trying to understand it?” Jimin huffs. There’s something in his tone that’s different from anything Jeongguk’s heard before. It’s not the irritation or flirtation that Jimin has been carrying in his voice these past few weeks. 

It almost sounds like fear . Like they’re walking into something that they shouldn’t be, and Jimin knows that. 

The small hint of emotion makes Jeongguk want to push, to test how deep it runs. 

Namjoon seems to have similar thoughts. He turns, faces Jimin, and narrows his eyes. “The whole point is to understand the Demon, Jimin. How else are we supposed to stop it?” he asks. 

The fact that even Namjoon has noticed that Jimin’s on edge doesn’t bode well. All at once, Jeongguk feels like he’s handling a ticking bomb. He can feel the countdown in his chest-- in his blood. It’s just a matter of time before things blow up in his face, whatever they may be.

Jimin’s expression shutters closed with practiced ease. “Right,” he concedes loftily. “My mistake.” Namjoon turns back around, and he misses the way Jimin’s gaze sharpens. 

But Jeongguk is looking right at him. He notices it. Another detail onto the pile. 

“Brace yourselves,” Yoongi calls from the cockpit moments before the ship starts to rumble around them. “Landing gear’s coming down.” 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath, because this part of flying always makes him feel like he’s back up in the gunner capsule. The shuddering of the walls as they sink to the surface of the planet feels just like how the recoil of the machine guns would make the capsule tremor underneath Jeongguk’s feet. 

He almost closes his eyes but fights the urge mercilessly. Focus, he snaps at himself, even though it feels like every single cell in his body is screaming at him to just curl up into a ball on the floor and sleep for the next fifty years or so. 

Focus, because he needs to be on his game today. That sixth-sense kind of intuition that rests just beneath his skin prickles to life. It tells him that today-- today is the day. For what, Jeongguk doesn’t have a clue. But the dread that the understanding leaves in its wake is enough to have Jeongguk completely on edge, even as Yoongi lands the craft down underneath a surprisingly-plush canopy of leaves. 

“What’s the game plan again?” Taehyung asks as soon as Yoongi powers off the craft and emerges from the cockpit. “What’re we looking for, exactly?” 

It’s probably a bad sign that, after a week of solidifying the plan, Taehyung is still alarmingly out of the loop, but Jeongguk can’t exactly blame him. Jeongguk’s head is foggy enough from bone-deep exhaustion that he wouldn’t mind a refresher either. 

Namjoon makes a displeased noise as he stands, straightening the cuffs of his white linen shirt. Jeongguk has that brief realization that they’ve all been wearing the same clothes for weeks now, washing them occasionally. He spends a half-second wondering what they’d all look like outside of these stained, torn, blood-stained rags that currently pass for clothing.

Jimin especially. 

Jeongguk mercilessly pushes the thought away. 

“I’m taking Jimin and Yoongi to look for a tome in the library. Hopefully, we’ll find something in there that can tell us how to stop this thing,” Namjoon explains slowly. “The rest of you head towards the observatory. Look for the star chart on the back of Jeongguk’s neck.” 

“And if everything goes according to plan, we’ll be out of here before sunset,” Seokjin chimes in, “Just in case.” Out of all of them, he’s the only one who looks completely put-together. His clothes are spotless, though Jeongguk knows he’s been through the same things the rest of them have. It’s unnerving, really. 

Taehyung tips his head to the side, curious. “In case of what?” 

Seokjin shrugs. “Just in case. This is a quarantined planet. Nobody’s touched down on the surface here in months-- who knows what it has in store for us in the darkness?” He says the words so casually, turning on his heel to open the ship’s ramp, like he didn’t just send a chill down the spines of everybody else in the room. 

It’s with a harsh swallow that Jeongguk remembers their path through all of the security checkpoints leading up to Earane. They’d been stopped every lightyear, checked for clearance, and then shuffled onto the next check. There’s no way that they would’ve even made it through the first checkpoint without Seokjin in tow. 

Even with Seokjin, the security officers were reluctant to grant them access. No one’s ventured to Earane’s surface since the Demon broke loose. Jeongguk is honestly a little surprised that they were willing to let the crown prince be one of the first down here, but he figures that the threat of Seokjin’s power can dissuade even the strongest arguments. 

“Let’s get a move on, then,” Jeongguk says. “In and out.” He follows the others out of Yoongi’s ship and onto the burnt-looking grass beneath his feet. 

Yoongi takes his keys, presses a button to raise the ramp. The ship beeps locked behind them. “Right. In and out,” he confirms with a nod, but Jeongguk doesn’t miss the wariness that coats his brow. 

It’s with a start that Jeongguk remembers that Yoongi probably went to a school just like this. Not the same one, of course, but one similar enough to have him looking like that . The memories of the place must still linger in the corners of Yoongi’s mind, because he moves stiffly down across the forest’s floor, like he’s marching towards his execution. 

And as Jeongguk brings up the rear of the group-- watching as Jimin picks his way sure-footedly through the surrounding undergrowth, thunderclouds swirling ahead with the threat of another acid downpour-- Jeongguk feels the same. 

It does feel like they’re marching towards an execution. 

He just doesn’t know whose it is. 

Around Jeongguk, the forest breathes. 

Pine trees look down on them, brown around the edges from the rain. Several are stripped completely bare, right to the silvery trunks. But there’s just enough green clinging to the towering trees that the little bit of sunlight that bleeds through the overhang dapples across the lichen-covered floor. 

Jeongguk honestly can’t remember the last time he’d seen a tree. Or seen grass . Nature seems to be a rarer sight in the Galaxy than diamonds or precious metals. So Jeongguk breathes in the smell of the foliage, drinks in the comforting spice-smell. 

It would be pleasant if he were under literally any other set of circumstances. But as it stands, he treks after his crewmates. They’ve been walking for what feels like hours, enough that Jeongguk’s toes are starting to pinch against the sides of his boots. Taehyung has complained a few times, and even Yoongi’s started to bitch about how far the university is. Jimin’s the only one who doesn’t utter a single peep. 

Jeongguk glares down at his sleek combat boots. There’s a knife in the heel of each of his shoes, and they’re durable enough that he could probably kill someone with a swift kick to the temple, but they’re not all that great for walking. 

It’s as he’s looking down at his shoes, berating them uselessly in his head, that something catches his eye. His head snaps to the side to look closer. 

Right next to him, alongside the well-trodden forest path that twists towards the university, there are marks. They’re long and wide, accompanied by a few small mounds of upturned earth. It looks a bit like the entrance to a closed-off Earthside-rabbit’s den-- like something’s pushed out of the ground and covered its exit. 

Jeongguk has never seen anything quite like it before, but he knows enough about tracking that he gets the general principle. 

“These are tracks,” Jeongguk calls to the others. He gestures to the floor surrounding them as the others turn, catches sight of a few similar disturbances on the other side of the path. “They look fresh.” 

Seokjin hurries towards the back of the group. “Tracks?” he echoes. Seokjin stoops down, running his fingers lightly through the dirt to test for moisture content. “They’re waterlogged. These have to be recent to be soaked from the rain.” 

“Do you think someone’s here?” Namjoon asks, furrowing his brow. “Maybe someone survived the attack?” 

Jimin huffs. “And did what? Burrowed underground for the winter?” he scoffs in annoyance. “It’s more likely a warren of some kind. Leave it be.” 

Of its own volition, Jeongguk’s gaze skirts down to meet Seokjin’s. They don’t say anything, but Jeongguk thinks that the understanding passes between them anyway. For the entire time they’ve been in this forest, there’s been no birdsong. No animal noises, no leaves crackling. There’s nothing here. 

It’s completely dead out here.

Seokjin breaks eye contact first. He stands, dusting off his knees. “Well, either way, we can’t stay in one place for too long. If we want this to end before sunset, we need to hustle,” he tells them. Seokjin heads back to the front of the group, trailing just behind Jimin as he leads them towards the university. 

“And besides,” he adds, “If there is somebody here, we probably don’t want to come across them anyway.” 

Taehyung viscerally shudders. He picks up the pace, practically running to keep in step with the others. Jeongguk knows that he should follow, but there’s something about these tracks that makes his skin crawl. 

They’re too large to be from an animal, even if there were any creatures still in this forest. Much too large. And there are so many of them. 

When Jeongguk finally pulls himself to his feet to chase down the others, he sees them everywhere. They litter the forest floor in pairs of six or seven, arranged into a pattern of some sort. The thread of intuition that runs through the fabric of Jeongguk’s being tells him to pull off the road, to look closer . 

It screams at him to pay attention, but the others are already further ahead, and Jeongguk doesn’t know the way to the university on his own. 

So he follows, leaving the upturned mounds of earth behind him. 

Jeongguk stares up at the university ahead of him, not quite able to keep the awe off of his face. Jimin fiddles with unlocking the wards, and Jeongguk should really be paying attention to Jimin’s every single move right about now, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the building. 

There are three wings of the university itself-- two wings perpendicular to the third-- arranged around a sprawling courtyard. If Jeongguk tries, he can imagine the sorts of people that used to populate the lawn. He can see professors pacing about in his mind’s eye, students trading jokes and formulas over picnics, groundskeepers trimming the now-dead rose shrubs. 

He spends a heartbeat wondering if he ever went someplace like this in the past, but dismisses the thought almost immediately. There’s absolutely no way that someone like him could ever get into someplace like this .

Not when it looks this grand-- with arched enclaves and stained-glass rose windows and pinnacles that spiral into the atmosphere. It’s far too beautiful for someone like Jeongguk. He’d have been laughed at for even stepping foot in this place in the past. He’s sure of it. 

There’s a loud ‘snap!’ as the dome of wards surrounding the school dissolves under Jimin’s skillful touch. Jimin rolls his shoulders, nods towards the campus grounds. “Here’s where we split,” he announces. 

Jimin points to the west wing. It’s covered in dying ivy and has windows taller than Jeongguk. There’s a steeple rising from the front of the tower that stretches higher than the others. It ends with a domed glass ceiling up near the beginnings of the heavens. 

“That’s the observatory,” Jimin tells them. “Go up all of the flights of stairs and take the third door on the left. There should be another ladder. Climb it, and you’ll be right in the oculus.” 

He then nods to the east wing-- covered nearly floor to ceiling in glass windows clear enough to let Jeongguk see the doors that dot the interior walls. “We’ll be in here. It’s the library wing.” 

Seokjin claps his hands together. “Fantastic. We’ll find you when we’re done, but if you don’t hear from us before sundown, meet back here.” 

“Copy that,” Yoongi says with a mocking little salute. 

“What about that wing?” Jeongguk is only vaguely aware of the question he’d asked, too busy watching Jimin’s expression morph from annoyance to worry and back to irritation. 

Jimin follows Jeongguk’s outstretched hand. He looks at the wing of the building pressed in between the other two. “Those are the dormitories.”

And Jeongguk doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s the way Jimin’s tone darkens as he talks, or maybe it’s the warning glare that he’s sending at Jeongguk, but Jeongguk crosses his arms and challenges, “Anything we might need from in there?”

“No.” Jimin’s response is firm and hard and much too fast to be casual.

It raises the hairs along the back of Jeongguk’s neck, but Jeongguk forces himself to pretend like it’s no skin off of his back where he is and is not allowed. “Okay,” he shrugs nonchalantly. 

Jimin holds Jeongguk with his gaze. The green of his irises swirl in the midafternoon haze, pinning Jeongguk to the spot for a moment as Jimin seems to search his soul.

“Let’s go ,” Taehyung interrupts their staring match, already impatient. “Dusty books and old star charts await. How exciting for us.” He grabs Seokjin’s arm, tugging him in the direction of the wing that houses the observatory. 

Reluctantly, Jeongguk forces himself to follow. He feels Jimin’s eyes on him, burning a hole through the back of his head. Jeongguk knows that he needs to go into the dormitories. Jimin’s reaction told him all he needed to know. 

There’s something in there. Something that Jimin’s hiding, tucked away under layers of deceit and half-lies. And Jeongguk isn’t the best PI in the Outer Reaches for nothing. He’ll be damned if he leaves one more stone unturned-- especially after he’d had to abandon those markings in the forest. 

The only way to figure out what’s going on with Jimin, with this planet, with the Demon is to go where he shouldn’t. 

So Jeongguk waits until he can’t feel Jimin’s eyes on him anymore to turn around. He casts a glance back towards the entrance to the east wing, all the way across the campus. There’s not a body in sight. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin must already be inside. 

As Taehyung throws open the doors to the west wing, Jeongguk clears his throat. “I need to use the restroom,” he announces into the eerie quiet of the musty hallway. 

Seokjin groans as they enter the damp of the building’s interior. “Why didn’t you go on the ship?” he bitches. 

“Is this a conversation that’s important to have right now?” Jeongguk drawls, slow enough that Seokjin has to time to process how idiotic he sounds. 

“Fine, fine.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, waving Jeongguk off. “Don’t take forever finding a bathroom. Pee in a bush if you have to. We need the back of your neck to find the chart.”

Jeongguk bites back the laugh that tries to escape his throat. “Sure thing,” he hums. He nods towards the oak staircase that spirals up, positioned right next to the door. “I’ll meet you up there.”

He thinks he hears a tired ‘whatever,’ from Seokjin, but Taehyung’s tugging him up the stairs and away before he can say anything else. Jeongguk watches them go. He listens carefully, deadly quiet until he can no longer hear the sound of their footfalls thumping up the stairs.

When peaceful quiet returns to the hallway, Jeongguk takes a deep breath, turns on his heel, and sprints as fast as he can down the hallway. 

Jeongguk barely spares a glance towards his surroundings as he sprints. The dark, stone walls flash by, only briefly illuminated by the meager sunlight coming through the windows. His legs pump to the rhythm of his heartbeat in his chest. The tempo they beat out echoes throughout the hallway. It’s louder than the sound of the thoughts rolling tumultuously through Jeongguk’s head. 

He skids to the right around a corner, racing into the dormitory wing. Jeongguk pauses only once he’s reached the bottom of the grand staircase. He feels for the familiar urge that grows in his stomach, listening closely to what it suggests. 

Upstairs, Jeongguk decides. He ignores the black marble statues lining the bottom floor; Jeongguk takes the stairs four at a time, for once grateful for the speed that his height lends him. He passes the landing of the second floor, the third floor, the fourth floor. And then the staircase ends, opening onto the foyer of the fifth floor. 

“Where?” Jeongguk breathes, unsure if he’s asking himself or whatever higher power might be listening to him. The gods have led him this far. Surely they’ll lead him just a bit further. 

He spins around to drink in the hallway surrounding him. Like the rest of the building, the walls are made of cool grey stone, damp from the seemingly perpetual rain clouds that plague the sky. The wall across from the staircase’s opening is spotted with doors. Metal nameplates are bolted into the center of each door. 

There’s just enough light from the floor-length glass windows on the opposite wall for Jeongguk to make out the names engraved on each door. 

An Haneul, the door directly across from the staircase reads. 

Jeongguk crosses the distance on swift feet. He doesn’t hesitate before tugging the door open, more than a little surprised that it’s unlocked. He’s surprised that everything in here is unlocked, what with the effort put into creating the protective wards. 

The door swings open to reveal the wood-paneled room beyond. There’s a twin bed in the corner, a bookcase-desk combo on the other, and a trunk at the foot of the bed. Jeongguk furrows his brow as he looks over the room. 

Papers still litter the desk. There’s a pot of ink on the windowsill that’s uncapped, long since dried out. There are a few pairs of socks littered across the floor. Even the bed still looks a little mussed. 

“It’s untouched,” Jeongguk realizes, frown deepening. It’s just like the rest of the planet-- completely preserved without a single trace of life. 

The dread that’s settled in Jeongguk’s stomach claws its way slowly up his throat as Jeongguk slips back outside. He closes the door behind him, tries the next one. 

It belongs to a Maximillian Yamamoto, whoever that is. Whoever that used to be. The room is the same-- a few plants wither away in the corner, and it’s much more organized than the one before it. 

“What in gods’ names,” Jeongguk breathes. His heart pounds faster than it did when he was running, hammering against his temples and ribcage so hard that he’s almost worried he’s in danger of having a cardiac episode. 

But Jeongguk’s never felt like this before. He’s never felt this bone-chilling panic before as he tears through door after door. 

Kiara Melendes 

Desean Lawrence 

Xandari Lee

The names whip past, but each room is in the exact state of perfect disarray. There are no bodies. There are no signs of a struggle. There’s just- nothing . It’s as though each and every person in this hallway has just vanished, away into the ether. 

And Jeongguk doesn’t know why the thought of dissolving, of simply disappearing without a trace, makes his hands shake as badly as it does. His mouth is dry. Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he scours the hallway. 

How? He thinks, thoughts racing. How?

Something isn’t right, Jeongguk realizes over the sound of his own breathing. Something is wrong . 

And it has to do with the tracks in the forest, the unlocked doors, the lack of bodies, the rooms-

Jeongguk feels it then. The familiar burning on the back of his neck. 

Slowly, Jeongguk turns from where he’d been facing the last unopened door. Jeongguk looks out the windows lining the wall behind him. It only takes a second for Jeongguk to notice it. 

It’s Jimin.

He’s standing in one of the windows on the top floor of the east wing. Jimin is perfectly motionless. He stares out the window, up to the dormitory wing, like he can-

Like he can see me, Jeongguk realizes, breath hitching in his throat. 

Jeongguk is frozen to the spot as some kind of primordial self-preservation instinct tells him to be very, very still. 

Slowly, Jimin raises his hand. He waves. 

And for a second, just the briefest second , Jeongguk feels the terror start to ebb. 

It returns full-force as Jimin crouches on all fours and breaks into a sprint. 

Jimin disappears from view, and adrenaline drops into Jeongguk’s system so fast that he almost passes out. 

Think think think think

Jimin is coming for him. Jimin is coming for him. 

Jeongguk whips around, eyes catching on the nameplate across from him. It reads:

Park Jimin, Head Boy 

And Jeongguk understands. Whatever Jimin doesn’t want him to find, whatever he’s not supposed to see, it’s in this room. 

He tears the door open so fast that it’s almost ripped off of its hinges. 

The difference between this room and the rest is immediately apparent. Jimin’s room is completely upturned. The dresser is emptied all over to the floor, books are scattered, suitcases are out. 

He was packing, Jeongguk understands with a start. He had time to pack.

Which means that Jimin lied to him before. It means that Jimin had time to prepare to get off of the planet, time that everyone else didn’t seem to have. Jimin knew. Somehow, someway, he knew, and chose not to warn his peers. 

Horror settles like a stone in Jeongguk’s stomach, but he makes himself push past the feeling. Jeongguk skids into the room. He heads towards the first surface he sees, waiting for the familiar pull in his stomach to tell him that he’s found what he’s supposed to. 

Jeongguk rifles through the dresser, pulling out what few clothes remain. When he comes up empty handed, he races towards the desk. Parchment scrolls get yanked out with desperate fingers, flung halfway across the room as soon as they’re deemed useless. 

The bookcase gets pulled apart next. Jeongguk carelessly tugs out row after row of old-looking books. Still nothing. There’s nothing , and Jimin has to be close by now. 

And then Jeongguk’s eyes land on the bed. 

“You’re my last hope,” Jeongguk threatens the piece of furniture as he struggles to keep calm, “Do not let me down.” 

Quickly, Jeongguk tugs the bedsheets off. He slides the heel of his left boot off, pops out the knife hidden in the heel’s secret compartment, and slashes the mattress open down the middle. Stuffing pours out of the wound, and Jeongguk rifles through it. 

He hears footsteps racing down the corridor, laboured breathing that gets louder and louder with every step. 

In one last ditch effort to find something, Jeongguk hefts the mattress up and onto its side. And there, lying under the mattress, is a tome. 

It’s dark brown and battered, old-looking. The whisper of power that oozes from the cover tells Jeongguk everything he needs to know. This is it. This is what he was meant to find. 

Jeongguk snatches the book up with one hand and drops the mattress. The footsteps get louder and louder, practically echoing off of the walls, and Jeongguk thinks that he hears a snarl as he unzips his jumpsuit and tucks the tome into one of his fifteen pockets.

The noise from the hallway stops. Silence descends, and then Jimin rounds the corner of the doorframe.

For all his running, there’s not a single drop of sweat on his brow. His face isn’t red, his hair isn’t mussed, and there’s no dirt on his palms from running on all fours. Jimin looks completely unaffected. 

Jeongguk’s heart does its best to jump out of his chest as Jimin takes a step into the room. 

“You shouldn’t snoop,” Jimin says calmly. His eyes sweep the room, flicking from Jeongguk to the bed and back. 

Calm down, Jeongguk instructs himself. He grabs the panic in his chest, pushes it down. He refuses to give Jimin the upper hand right now, not after everything. 

“Just looking around,” Jeongguk shrugs easily. 

Jimin advances a step. “You should be in the observatory.” 

“I got lost.”

“I told you where it was.”

“I have a really bad sense of direction,” Jeongguk says with a fake smile. He hopes it’s convincing enough to throw Jimin off the scent. 

Once again, Jimin’s eyes dart towards the unmade bed. He tilts his head to the side, asks sweetly, “Find anything useful?” 

“This is your room,” Jeongguk fires back, not backing down an inch, despite how his self-preservation instincts scream at him. “Anything in here that I should find useful?”

Jimin stiffens noticeably. “No.”

“Then how could I possibly have found anything?” Jeongguk asks with a saccharine smirk. 

Jeongguk doesn’t really know what he’s expecting Jimin’s reaction to be, but it’s certainly not the surprised huff of laughter that leaves his lips. “-likes about you,” Jimin murmurs under his breath, too quiet for Jeongguk to catch the first half of the sentence. 

Fighting his better judgement, Jeongguk furrows his brow. “What was that?” 

“The attitude. The scars. Got a thing for bad boys, huh?” Jimin chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s talking to Jeongguk anymore. 

A chill races down Jeongguk’s spine as Jimin stalks closer and closer. “Who does?” Jeongguk presses, the need to know momentarily winning out over his brain that screams at him to push Jimin out the window and run. “Who’re you talking to?” 

But Jimin’s eyes are glassy. They swirl green-hazel in the dying light. 

“Don’t do what?” Jimin whispers under his breath. “This?” 

The next heartbeats happen so fast that Jeongguk is sure he’s hallucinating. It would be par for the course considering the whirlwind that this day has turned out to be, but- 

The way Jimin’s lips press to his certainly feel real. 

They feel so real that Jeongguk’s brain just suddenly turns off. 

There isn’t anything gentle about the kiss. Jimin presses against Jeongguk, chest-to-chest, hands twisted into the fabric of Jeongguk’s jumpsuit. He leans into Jeongguk so far that Jeongguk’s hands automatically come up to steady his hips.

Something about this feels wrong . 

But then Jimin’s lips are moving, silky soft against Jeongguk’s and all rational thought fizzles out and dies. 

Jimin sucks on Jeongguk’s bottom lip. He releases it, dives right back in to nip along the press of his mouth. Jeongguk can’t find it in him to do anything other than just stand there and let Jimin lick across the seam of his mouth.

He can feel one of Jimin’s hands coming up to the back of his neck. It laces through his hair and grabs at it, yanking Jeongguk down far enough that Jimin doesn’t have to stand on the balls of his toes to reach Jeongguk’s mouth. 

The sudden shift makes Jeongguk’s lips open, ready to let out a shocked scoff, and Jimin seizes the opportunity. Jimin lets his tongue brush into Jeongguk’s mouth to lick across the roof.

This is- 

Jeongguk’s thought is cut off as Jimin sucks on his tongue. His eyes flutter closed of their own volition at the feeling of Jimin’s mouth. The hand in his hair tugs harder, more demanding, and the first licks of heat shoot straight down Jeongguk’s spine. 

This is-

As Jimin pulls back, kissing along Jeongguk’s jaw, he drops the hand on Jeongguk’s chest deeper into the vee of Jeongguk’s jumpsuit. His fingertips trace along Jeongguk’s bare skin as they ghost across the surface. 

The heat at the base of Jeongguk’s spine pools as Jimin dives back in. And then Jeongguk is moving his own lips in tandem with Jimin’s. The pleased, cocky ‘hmm’ that darts out of Jimin’s throat spurs him on, forces his body to take more and more from Jimin until they’re practically pressed completely together,  until Jeongguk can feel the edges of the tome pressing against the skin of his chest inside of his jumpsuit, until-

Until Jeongguk can feel how purposeful Jimin’s searching fingers are as they dart deeper into the inside of Jeongguk’s shirt. 

The realization brings reality crashing back down. 

This is Jimin. 

Jimin.

And Jimin’s after the tome. He knows Jeongguk has it. 

With a burst of newfound adrenaline, Jeongguk shoves Jimin back hard enough to send him stumbling. For a brief moment, Jimin’s lips shine with a thin sheen of spit, but he wipes it away with the hem of his sleeve. 

“What the fuck, Jimin,” Jeongguk pants out, the world around him tilting and spinning. “What the fuck.” 

Confusion sinks into Jeongguk’s bones. Jimin kissed him; Jeongguk kissed Jimin . After everything. After everything he’d just found out, beneath it all-- he’d kissed Jimin. The thought makes him shudder, because this Jimin-- the one staring at him coldly from the other side of the room-- is not one that Jeongguk has seen.

The Jimin who saw him from the window, the Jimin who ran on all fours, the Jimin who smiles at him with the grin of a killer-- these are not the Jimin that Jeongguk thinks he’s become accustomed to. 

For the first time, Jeongguk lets himself wonder if this is who Jimin really is. If he’s ever really even known a single thing about the man sleeping across from him at all.

Jimin just shrugs, though there’s a bit of anger in his stare as he looks at the bulge of the tome pressing against Jeongguk’s chest. “I think you should go back to the observatory now, sugar,” Jimin lilts as he turns on his heel.

Jeongguk isn’t about to let him go that easily, not after everything that just happened. It doesn’t matter if he’s wracked with confusion, or horror, or a mix of the two. He lunges forwards, wrapping his hand easily around Jimin’s bicep. “No way, you’re not just-”

With a hiss, Jimin whirls fast enough to dislodge Jeongguk’s hold. His emerald-grey eyes spark furiously at the touch. The voice that comes out of Jimin’s chest is low, growled. 

“I think you should go back to the observatory now, Jeongguk.” 

Jeongguk recoils at the venom instinctively. Jimin’s radiating some kind of darkness right now, one that almost chokes Jeongguk. He can’t do anything but watch as Jimin walks out of the room. His movements are jerky and tense, like Jimin is fighting with his own body to leave. 

A shaky exhale leaves Jeongguk’s lungs. Combat in the Outer Reaches hadn’t prepared him for feeling like this; all the violence he’s ever seen hadn’t prepared him for Park Jimin. 

Only once Jimin disappears from sight does Jeongguk take a step forward. He peers around the corner, and Jeongguk’s heart stops again.

Jimin is gone. 

There’s no way Jimin crossed the distance between his room and the staircase so quickly, so soundlessly. 

But he’s gone anyway. 

🌘

The attitude. The scars. 

Got a thing for bad boys, huh?

Don’t do what-

This?

I don’t-

I-

Jeongguk, this is ridiculous

Seriously-

🌓

By the time Jeongguk makes it up to the observatory, everyone has already assembled.  He bangs open the door; it slams against the wood of the walls, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. His chest heaves from the effort of running here. Sweat drips Jeongguk’s brow, but he blinks it out of his eye.

He needs to tell them about Jimin, and he needs to do it now. 

But before he can so much as open his mouth, Seokjin looks at him from over his shoulder. “Oh, Jeongguk. Is your bladder okay? That took, like, an hour .” It’s clear from his tone that he’s teasing, but Jeongguk doesn’t pay the words any attention. 

His stare is fixed on Jimin , who stands right next to the copper telescope that’s pointed towards the heavens.  Jimin looks completely unaffected. Sure, his lips are just a little bit more red than they were before, but he doesn’t so much as spare Jeongguk a passing glance. 

Jimin is still pretending. Even after what happened moments ago, he’s still pretending. 

“Sorry, I got-” Jeongguk swallows hard, takes a breath, “-I got sidetracked.” He steps further into the room, leaving the door open just in case he needs to beat a hasty retreat. Jeongguk’s eyes never leave Jimin’s profile. “Do you need to see the map on the back of my neck?”

Taehyung huffs impatiently from his seat in the plush green armchair near the window. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing in here but a bunch of prehistoric measurements and lecture notes.” He gestures to the stacks of yellowed parchments that litter the floor. 

“I honestly thought that there would be more useful information in here. But instead it just smells like ass,” Jimin grumbles. The sound of his voice almost makes Jeongguk jump, but he bites down on his lip.

You’re a professional, Jeongguk reminds himself. You’ve seen things worse than this . But something tells him that nothing could’ve prepared him for meeting Park Jimin-- whoever that really happens to be. 

Namjoon claps a hand comfortingly on Jimin’s shoulder. Jeongguk wants to yell at him, warn him not to get within an arm’s reach of Jimin, but he can’t seem to get the words out over the thickness in his throat. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Seokjin sighs, “We’ll just have to hop over to the Royal Archives at the palace and hope that they have what we need.” 

You’re a professional, Jeongguk thinks, firmer this time. He walks further into the room, asks with just a hint of a challenge in his voice, “Did you find anything in the library?” Jeongguk doesn’t miss the way Jimin’s head whips around to face him. 

Yoongi frowns from where he leans against the adjacent wall. “Nothing. It’s been completely ransacked.” 

“Interesting,” Jeongguk says slowly. He notices Jimin’s eyes narrowing, gold-tinted in the setting sun outside. 

“Ransacked?” Seokjin interjects, eyebrows piquing up towards his hairline. “How so?” 

Disgust twists Yoongi’s face. “It means the books are gone. All of them. It looks like they were burned.” He spits the words like they’re revolting. 

The air ‘whooshes’ out of Seokjin’s lungs all at once, like someone’s punched him in the chest. “How is that possible?” he asks. His voice is shaky like Jeongguk’s never heard it; Seokjin sounds like he’s actually hurting because the books are gone. “There’s just- nothing? All of the tomes, and history books, and potions guides are just-”

“Gone,” Yoongi affirms curtly. He crosses his arms over his chest, holding onto himself. 

Jeongguk listens to the exchange with his eyes still fixed on Jimin’s reaction. Or lack thereof. The way he doesn’t even bat an eye at discovering that one of the universe’s largest libraries has been effectively razed to the ground solidifies Jeongguk’s resolve.

“It’s like someone knew we were coming,” Jeongguk says into the silence of the observatory. 

Jimin’s stare catches his so fast that Jeongguk almost takes a step back. But he doesn’t-- Jeongguk just traces the lines of Jimin’s face, notices the disapproving tilt of his lips and the crease between his brows. 

Above, the sun pours down through the domed glass ceiling. Usually, the sight of the poured out evening would be relaxing, but the light that rushes to fill the observatory is tinted blood red with the promise of disaster. 

“So, what now?” Jimin asks, clearly trying to make his voice sound level and genuine. He sighs dramatically, hangs his head in despair. “We don’t have a star chart, and we don’t have a tome-”

“I have a tome.” 

Jeongguk’s voice cuts through the silence. It echoes around the room louder than the deadly glare that Jimin is shooting him. 

From across the room, Namjoon blinks in surprise. “You do?” he asks, voice high with excitement. He sticks his hand out and beckons with his pointer finger. “Give it here.” 

Slowly, Jeongguk reaches for the zipper in his jumpsuit. He watches Jimin watching him . Jeongguk dips into the pocket right above his heart, grabs the tome, and hefts it out into the open. “Found it in the dormitories when I was looking for the bathroom,” Jeongguk lies easily over the sound of Jimin’s sharp inhale. “Hidden under a bed-- can you believe my luck?” 

Namjoon takes the book in hand. He turns it over to observe the cracked spine and the filigree racing across the covers. 

“Do you know what it’s for?” Taehyung questions. He rises from his armchair, lured closer to the book by the way it practically radiates power. Taehyung peers around Namjoon’s shoulder to get a closer look, but Namjoon passes the book to Yoongi. 

It takes a minute for Yoongi to survey the text. He reads over the language gracing the pages, mouthing along as he goes. “It’s an Alchemy tome, for sure,” he hums, considering, “And an old one, too.” 

Yoongi’s red-eyed stare jumps up to Jeongguk, curious. “You’re saying this was in a student’s room? This thing should be under lock and key.” 

“Why’s that?” Taehyung asks before Jeongguk can confirm or deny. 

Something must click for Namjoon, because he snaps his fingers together in an ‘aha!’ sort of way. “It’s a Necromancy book. Right?” He looks at Yoongi for confirmation. 

The slow, apprehensive nod that Yoongi offers in return sends a lick of nerves down Jeongguk’s spine. Pieces of information start clicking together in Jeongguk’s head. They’re getting closer to the truth, he can feel it. It rests on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be voiced. 

“Necromancy? As in, like, raising the dead?” Seokjin says in disbelief. He looks vaguely concerned, and Jeongguk doesn’t blame him. Death-magic is powerful-- too powerful. Even Jeongguk knows that.

Namjoon takes a steadying breath. “As in, you can use this book to raise an army of the dead.” He points at the book and addresses Jimin. “Is this the book you used to summon the Demon?” 

Jeongguk turns his attention back to Jimin, more than a little surprised to see how overtly nervous he seems. Jimin darts his tongue out to wet his lips and buy him some time. 

“I can’t say for certain, but-”

“Wait, wait,” Yoongi cuts him off with a frustrated wave of his hand. “That doesn’t make sense. You can’t summon a Demon with Necromancy magic. They’re two different things.” Yoongi flips open the book, perusing the pages as he talks. “Demons aren’t organic. They’ve never been alive, so they’ve also never been dead. Necromancy can only summon things that have natural life cycles-- like cats, or rabbits, or-”

Taehyung’s shuddered breath shakes the room. “Or Humans,” he supplies helpfully, and then grimaces as the words leave a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Exactly.” 

“But if this is the book that Jimin used to summon something, then it’s not a Demon that’s after us,” Namjoon tilts his head to the side as he thinks out loud. “It’d be impossible to summon one with this book. Two different types of rituals.” 

The color drains out of Jimin’s face so fast that Jeongguk thinks for a half-second that he’s going to pass out right there on the stone-cold floor. His shock shouts at Jeongguk, speaks volumes about what’s after them.

The first piece snaps into place. “It’d be a Human, wouldn’t it?” Jeongguk guesses, “Someone who’s been raised from the dead.” Jeongguk doesn’t realize that he’s advancing on Jimin until Jimin takes a step back. 

“But if the thing after us is from this book, if it’s a revived Human soul , it’d need…” Yoongi trails off, looking out the window as he swallows hard. “It’d need a vessel.” 

“A vessel,” Taehyung parrots. His eyes blow wide at the implication. 

Namjoon runs a hand down his face. “A body to inhabit that’d keep the spirit alive,” he explains to the room wearily, “Without a body as a host, the spirit would just naturally fade into the afterlife again. It’s Merdi’s Alchemic Exclusion Principle. Two things can’t exist in the same space at the same time, unless they’re in a physical-nonphysical combination.” 

“Like possession,” Yoongi clarifies. 

“Right,” Namjoon says. He talks faster, gesturing about the room with his hands as he works himself up. “It’s why reanimated corpses can house revived souls."

Seokjin waves a hand in the air dismissively, clearly tired of Namjoon’s tangent. “So there has to be a vessel for a revived soul, and there doesn’t have to be for a Demon,” he simplifies, “And if it’s a person after us, then it needs a vessel. But we don’t have a vessel, so how the fuck is it following us?” 

And then another piece clicks. 

Everything falls into place, and Jeongguk understands. 

He remembers Jimin’s split persona-- the sassier, sweeter Jimin and the one that stands in front of him now . Jeongguk always just assumed that this was Jimin. That he was just a dichotomous asshole who manipulated people into doing what he wanted by switching his personality on a dime. 

Jeongguk had relied on that fact. 

But what if one of the personalities-- 

What if it isn’t Jimin at all? 

“Unless there is a vessel,” Jeongguk says quietly. The voices of the others drop away into stunned silence as Jeongguk pins Jimin down with his stare, new conviction coursing through his veins. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Jimin.” 

Jimin’s eye twitches ever so slightly as the stares of everyone else in the room focus on him, all at once. But he pastes a worried, almost-convincingly-concerned look on his face and stammers, “I- I don’t-”

But this time, Jeongguk isn’t falling for the performance. “How did you get off the planet?” he pushes, “A ship, you said? We’ve been here for hours, Jimin, and you have yet to mention where the escape pods you took are housed. There are only three buildings on this planet, so where are they?” 

A flicker of something dark passes behind Jimin’s eyes as he struggles to rein in his panic. “I-”

Jeongguk doesn’t ease the onslaught. A step closer. “And you said that you had to run for your life to escape the Demon on your trail, but your room was in chaos. You had time to pack , Jimin,” Jeongguk accuses as his chest heaves. He points a finger at the brown tome in Yoongi’s hands. “You had this book hidden under your bed. What part of that screams ‘I’m running out of time’?” 

“Oh, shit ,” Taehyung breathes. 

Adrenaline spikes Jeongguk’s bloodstream for probably the fifth time that day. He can’t help the way his heart races. He lives for this feeling, this rush of finally digging up the truth. “So, what’s your story? Did you or did you not escape the thing you summoned?” 

Jimin’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Jeongguk, this is ridiculous.” He tries to laugh off the accusations, but it doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

“Answer the fucking question,” Jeongguk practically growls. “Are you or are you not Park Jimin?” 

Jimin’s breaths come in short, quick, angry pants. He grits out, “ Seriously, Jeongguk, this-”

But Jeongguk doesn’t give him an ounce of respite. He leans down, grabs Jimin by the collar, and hisses right into his face, “Am I or am I not speaking to Park Jimin right now?!” 

The room holds its breath for a moment, and then Jimin’s entire expression changes. 

Concern melts away; contempt rises in its stead. It pulls the corners of Jimin’s lips into a snarl, wrinkles the skin of his nose. The hands that fly up to grab at Jeongguk’s wrists are cold and clammy, but the frost of them is nothing compared to the bite of Jimin’s words as he whispers, low and slow: 

“Oh, sugar. You’re speaking to someone so much better.” 

And then Jimin lunges forward so fast that Jeongguk doesn’t have time to move before Jimin’s hands are wrapping around his throat and squeezing.

Jeongguk falls to the floor as someone screams in the background. His head cracks against the stone painfully, but Jeongguk grits his teeth and presses his hands to Jimin’s shoulders. He’s taller and stronger than Jimin. He should be able to buck Jimin off of him with one well-placed shove. 

But Jimin’s grip is like iron around Jeongguk’s throat. His fingers push harder and harder, even as Jeongguk shoves with all of his strength against Jimin’s chest. 

As Jeongguk’s lungs scream for air, he’s only dimly aware of how there are hands trying to pull Jimin off of him. They’re not successful either. Jeongguk has the thought-- that horrible, morbid thought-- that the last thing he’ll see if he dies right here, right now, are the sickly green-greys of Jimin’s eyes. 

No- Jeongguk thinks, pulse pounding in his ears as the edges of his vision blur. He twists in Jimin’s hold, but the vice around his neck doesn’t loosen. 

No, because Jeongguk did not come this far and suffer this much to die right now. He doesn’t even know who he is. He can’t die yet. 

Jimin, however, doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. He lets out a primordial snarl and leans his weight harder on Jeongguk’s windpipe until it fucking hurts to struggle, until-

Taehyung’s fist flies out of nowhere, smacks clean across Jimin’s cheekbone. 

Jimin’s head goes whipping to the side. And then he turns, slow and venomous, to look at Taehyung. 

“Oh, holy shit,” Taehyung bleats in terror. 

“I’m going to ki-” Jimin starts to threaten, but Jeongguk doesn’t let him finish. 

Taehyung’s hit knocked Jimin just off balance enough to give Jeongguk room to push Jimin with all of his considerable strength. He slams Jimin across the shoulders so hard that Jimin actually flies across the room, feet leaving the floor as he’s catapulted into the opposite wall. 

“Namjoon! Hold him down!” Yoongi yells out. 

There’s the sound of scuffling, but Jeongguk doesn’t focus on it. His arms shake as he rolls himself over onto his elbows, crawling away from Jimin’s thrashing body with the little strength he has remaining in his body. 

His breaths come in big, shaking wheezes as he pulls himself away. Jeongguk can barely think straight from the lack of oxygen and residual terror. 

You’re okay, he coaches, but he doesn’t even sound convincing to himself. Breathe. 

Breathe.

And Jeongguk does. He just wishes that it didn’t hurt so much. There are going to be bruises around his throat. A brand, straight from Jimin’s fingertips. 

“ Chan eil fàilte ort an seo,” Yoongi chants in the background. Jeongguk tilts his head, looking down under his arm at the scene behind him. 

Namjoon and Seokjin have Jimin pinned to the ground. Yoongi straddles his chest, one hand pressed to his throat and the other against Jimin’s forehead. With his eyes closed in concentration, Yoongi shouts, “ Bidh mi gad chuir a-mach bhon aoigh seo.” 

It’s a tongue Jeongguk has never heard before, some kind of magic that he’s not aware of. It makes Jimin shudder from head to toe as he struggles against the others who hold him prone. 

There are hands on Jeongguk again, pressing against his back. And though Jeongguk knows it’s not Jimin’s touch, he jolts from the sudden contact.

“Easy, easy,” Taehyung mutters from above. He flips Jeongguk around with shaking fingers, helps him sit up just in time to watch Jimin’s head thrash from side to side. 

Jeongguk feels empty as he looks at Jimin-- veins bulging in his neck, eyes pulsing with anger, sweat pouring down his temples. He can’t even muster up the energy to feel victorious right now. Not with the pressure still lingering on his throat, and not with the way Jimin’s lips peel back into a hysterical laugh. 

“You’re all pathetic,” the thing inside of Jimin shrieks through his mouth. “Weak excuses for Human beings, weaker than-” he breaks off for a moment as Yoongi’s incantation continues. “-even weaker than this body!” 

Jimin’s head shoots up to find Jeongguk’s eyes. His hands clench into fists around air, but Namjoon and Seokjin lean on him hard enough that he can’t move more than a few centimeters. 

“He was in here the whole time, you know,” Jimin snarls, spittle flying from the vehemence of his words. “For everything.”

Jeongguk hates how the thing inside of Jimin’s body knows just what to say to make horror drop into Jeongguk’s system. He wonders how long it spent learning about Jeongguk before meeting him in that fucking bar; he wonders how many hours it watched him from across the room while Jeongguk slept. 

Waiting. 

Planning. 

Hunting.

“Oh, he fought me so hard!” Jimin cackles at the top of his lungs. “ ‘Stop! Don’t hurt them!’” The force possessing Jimin tilts his voice high and whining as it taunts them. “And he wanted to confess to you all so many times. Poor little thing. Can’t even break my control over hi-”

Jimin’s face contorts in pain. A strangled sound leaves his throat as Jimin’s eyes flick from amber to grey-green to amber. 

He’s heaving under the pressure of Yoongi on his chest, but Jimin growls out, “No. No! Stop!” 

Jimin’s head whips to the side, teeth snapping. His eyes fade back to that festering emerald. “Get back, you brat!” he shouts at himself. 

From Jeongguk’s side, Taehyung lets out a sob. Jeongguk is sure that if he could feel anything at all right now, he’d echo the sentiment. Blood trickles down the side of Jimin’s mouth, crimson and dark in the dying light. 

Yoongi grabs Jimin’s jaw tightly, yanks his face back around to stare him dead in the eye, and yells in Jimin’s face, “ Sgaoil!” 

Somehow, the thing inside of Jimin finds the room to howl, “I’ll savor the moment when I get to tear the muscles from your bones!” 

Jimin lifts his head to find Jeongguk again, grins with blood on his teeth, says, “See you later, sugar.” 

And then Yoongi’s incantation seems to take effect.
The scream that rips out of Jimin’s lungs is blood-curdling. It’s not a scream Jeongguk has ever heard before-- it sounds like Jimin is being ripped in half and stitched together without anesthesia. It’s guttural and deep, tears up Jimin’s vocal chords. 

All Jeongguk can do is watch in rapt attention as something lifts out of Jimin’s mouth. They look like fingers crawling out of his throat, giving way to a cloud of smoke so dark that Jeongguk almost can’t see through it. 

It races up and out of Jimin’s lungs and slams through the glass of the window, pouring out into the fading sunset. 

As soon as it starts, the exorcism is over. 

It’s over . 

Almost over. Because Jimin’s body still lies on the floor. He bleeds from his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head before he passes out. 

Jeongguk struggles to his feet with Taehyung’s help. Is he okay? he tries to ask, but nothing comes out of his mouth but a pained rush of air. 

It’s enough of a sound to catch Namjoon’s attention. 

“ Fuck , Jeongguk,” he curses, eyes darting back down to Jimin. “ Fuck. ” 

“His pulse is weak,” Yoongi tells them. His voice sounds a little shaky as he clambers off of Jimin. “We need a medic. Now .”

Panic settles like a cloud over the room. Jeongguk can feel it bleeding up from the floor into his feet, gnawing in his bones as it rises into his lungs and throat. 

What are we waiting for? Jeongguk wants to scream. Let’s GO!

He manages, “Wh-” before he breaks off. It hurts too much to talk. It hurts to breathe . 

Frustrated, Jeongguk pulls away from Taehyung. He stumbles over to Namjoon and takes his shoulder. Jeongguk shakes it hard enough that he hopes the message gets across. They need to leave before whatever just left Jimin’s body comes back.

Namjoon must see the urgency in Jeongguk’s eyes, because he rises to his feet a heartbeat later. “We- We should go. It isn’t safe here, and shit- is there a medic station anywhere nearby?” 

“Just security checkpoints,” Seokjin breathes. He looks shell-shocked. It’s completely at odds with his usually cocky exterior. “We- uh. No. There’s no medic nearby.” 

“Either way, we need to move,” Yoongi says. He stands and tries to move, but his gaze still seems caught on Jimin’s bloodied face like he can’t believe what just happened. 

Jeongguk gets it. He does. Shock is hard. 

But everything is about to get much more difficult if they sit here for any longer. 

Before Jeongguk can make another attempt to get them to fucking move, Taehyung breathes, “Holy shit. Holy shit.” He stands by the window, looking out, and he sounds so genuinely afraid that the others rush to gaze out with him.

And yeah- this is exactly what Jeongguk was trying to avoid. 

In the distance, at the edge of the campus’ enclosed courtyard, the ground starts to shift. The earth swirls into little mounds of earth-- just like the ones that Jeongguk saw out in the forest. Only this time, he knows what they are. 

They’re not mounds . 

They’re graves .

He knows this, because the hands that push out of the barren earth a second later are rotting and pale. 

“It can do Necromancy,” Yoongi realizes, fear riding high in his voice. “Who the fuck did Jimin summon?” 

Namjoon’s swallow is audible. “Shit,” he exhales as he pushes away from the window. “We need to go.” His voice is laced with the kind of terror that comes with experiencing this before-- with knowing what the dead can do. Namjoon’s seen it before; he’s killed it before. 

No one moves, caught in the slow-motion pull of watching the dead rise. 

Namjoon’s roar breaks the silence. 

“ GO!” he shouts. 

The moment breaks, and Jeongguk pulls away from the window. He watches as Namjoon stoops and hefts Jimin into his arms in one easy motion. 

And in that precise second, Jeongguk can feel the impossibility of their situation. They’re trapped in the highest room at the university’s tallest point. Somehow, they’re supposed to make it across campus, through the forest, back to the ship, and out of the atmosphere. All while facing off with a Necromancer and the reanimated bodies of every Alchemist that used to live here. 

Jeongguk swallows hard as Namjoon sprints out of the observatory’s door. Seokjin, Taehyung, and Yoongi chase his heels. 

Jeongguk takes a minute. This is a Moment, he knows. They’re not getting out of this alive. They’re going to die here. 

They’re going to die here. 

But Jeongguk will be damned if they go down without a fight. 

And he goes charging out of the observatory.

🌖

For a minute, Earane’s university is shrouded in complete silence. It’s almost peaceful-- the gothic buildings shine in the residual sunlight, painted golds and reds so vibrant that they look like watercolors dripping down the dark-bricked building.

And it would be peaceful if it weren’t for the army of corpses standing at the ready just along the outskirts of the courtyard. They crouch, ready and waiting for the moment when-

Yoongi smashes open the door to the bottom floor of the west wing. He stops for a moment on the stairs, so abrupt that Jeongguk almost goes careening straight into his back. 

What’re we DOING? Jeongguk wishes he could scream. Since he can’t, he follows Yoongi’s line of sight. 

Storm clouds swirl slowly on the edge of the horizon to snuff out the sunlight. It’s that viscous black cloud that Jeongguk’s seen before. It hovers just over the tops of the trees, just behind the rows and rows of undead Alchemist students that separate Jeongguk’s crew from the safety of Yoongi’s ship.

Jeongguk lets out a determined exhale at the exact same moment that Namjoon skids to a halt at the top of the staircase, Jimin tucked into his hold.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin breathes from Jeongguk’s right. “A weapon would be real good right about now.” His eyes trace over the scores of animated bodies that stand at the base of the stairs. 

Yoongi lets out a breath and flicks his fingers. A bat materializes out of thin air, wrapped with what looks like razor wire. 

Seokjin grabs it before it can fall to the ground. “...this is the best that you can do?” he hisses, hefting the bat in his hands a few times. 

“Is now really the best time to make fun of my transmutation skills?” Yoongi barks right back under his breath. 

Silently, Jeongguk bends down. He takes off the heel of his boot, slides out the knife hidden in its compartment. Jeongguk palms it to Taehyung as surreptitiously as possible. 

Why aren’t they charging? Jeongguk wishes he could ask. 

Thankfully, Taehyung is on the same wavelength. “Why aren’t they moving?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, directed at Namjoon. 

Namjoon shakes his head. “I have no idea,” he breathes back, “Maybe they’re waiting for a command?”

“Should we… move?” Seokjin murmurs. He turns the bat in his hands, getting used to the curves and dips. 

Jeongguk looks back at the cloud in the sky. It rises higher and higher, expanding over the horizon. He flicks his gaze back to the Alchemists at his feet, trying to ignore the way some of them are missing limbs or eyes, looking for whatever the fuck is making them all wait. 

The others whisper worriedly in the background when Jeongguk finally notices it. A flicker of movement from somewhere within the horde-- one of the undead is fidgeting with their hands, bending down like they’re drawing something on the ground. 

Jeongguk squints, looking closer. It resembles a sigil, some kind of incantation meant to- 

A ‘crack!’ sounds from somewhere above their heads, loud enough to be a thunderclap. Jeongguk wastes half a heartbeat looking up. Above, the observatory begins to crumble. Stones the size of small ships hurtle straight towards them as the Alchemist in the horde brings the university to the ground. 

In an instant, Jeongguk’s brain snaps back into that survive survive survive mode that’s kept him alive for so long. He leaps to the right, arms out to shove Taehyung mercilessly out of the way of the falling rocks. 

Jeongguk can’t waste a second looking back to warn the others, because the second the rocks collide with the ground, all hell breaks loose. 

Jeongguk’s shoulder jars painfully as he and Taehyung go tumbling down the staircase. His heartbeat kicks back up again, and though exhaustion weighs Jeongguk’s limbs down like they’re made of lead, he flies his hands out as he spills down the staircase. 

In the background, he thinks he hears Namjoon shouting his name from the other side of the stairs, but Jeongguk is too focused on catching himself to bother paying attention. His ankle twinges under his weight as Jeongguk plants it on the step below and tilts back with as much force as he can muster. 

At the same moment, Jeongguk shoots a hand out to catch Taehyung by the forearm. The veins in his neck bulge under the strain, but Jeongguk just grits his teeth and digs in his heels. 

Taehyung slows to a halt inches before falling into the oncoming rush of the undead that sprints up the stairs. 

“ Fuck,” Taehyung gasps for air, casting a grateful look back at Jeongguk. “Thanks, I-”

But they don’t have time to talk before another of the undead Alchemists raises their hands. Jeongguk doesn’t know a lot about magic, but he does know that right now, in this situation, any raised hands can’t be a good thing. 

Think- Jeongguk urges himself. All he needs is an opening, some break in the rapidly-ascending crowd to get them through the thick of the writhing bodies. Namjoon and Seokjin pound down the stairs; Yoongi leads the charge, fire magic spitting out of his mouth to blaze a trail forward. 

Think! 

But there’s no way forward-- no way for him and Taehyung to push through the crowd that gnashes at their feet. The others are getting further and further away, over towards the lip of the forest. 

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung warns. His knife is raised and ready, jaw set like he’s preparing to die on this step. There’s a waver in his voice, one that tells Jeongguk that he’s just as unwilling to give up as Jeongguk is. 

So Jeongguk makes a snap decision. 

If they can’t go forward, they’ll just have to go backward. 

He grabs Taehyung around his forearm and yanks him back into the west wing. It’s not a moment too soon, because the very second the oak doors slam shut behind them, something cracks against the wood hard enough to make it tremble. 

“Jeongguk, what the fuck,” Taehyung bleats, but he doesn’t fight Jeongguk as he propels both of them down the hallway. 

Their feet echo against the quiet of the corridor as they sprint to the end of the hallway. Before they can even get halfway down, a body smashes through the glass windows just behind them. 

Taehyung shrieks at the sound, but Jeongguk doesn’t turn around to look. He already knows what it is. The blood pounding in his ears blocks most of Taehyung’s panted curses, but he still hears the ‘ shit!’ that leaves Taehyung’s mouth loud and clear as the west wing starts to shake again. 

They’re bringing down the wing, Jeongguk understands with horrifying clarity. They need to get out of here. 

Jeongguk whips them around the corner of the hallway and towards the staircase that leads to the dormitory wing. He passes it, heads for the east wing. 

There are groans behind them, and the echoed pounding of footsteps that tell Jeongguk they’re only feet ahead of the crowd of the undead. 

“They can’t leave us,” Taehyung grits out as he sprints by Jeongguk’s side. His face is red, jaw clenched as he moves. “They won’t leave us, right?” 

He means Yoongi and the others. And as much as Jeongguk wants to reassure him, he can’t. Jeongguk doesn’t know-- he can’t even remember if Namjoon saw them making their way back into the building. Jeongguk just shakes his head and sends up a brief prayer to whatever higher power might be willing to help them get out of this alive. 

The brick walls around them tremor harder and harder. From Jeongguk’s side, the glass windows start to crack under the pressure of the buckling walls. 

They’re running out of time . 

Jeongguk wants to push himself harder. He can go faster than this, he can sprint and make his way out, but Taehyung can’t. And Jeongguk will be damned if he leaves him behind. 

Thankfully, the end of the hallway comes quickly. There’s a small, iron staircase in the corner that Jeongguk doesn’t waste time investigating before he goes careening up it. Taehyung follows close behind as they spiral up towards the ceiling. 

Below their feet, Jeongguk watches as the dead throw themselves against the metal banister. The Alchemists in the crowd grab hold of the wrought iron, muttering guttural sounds as soon as they touch the metal. 

Jeongguk doesn’t have a second to wonder what they’re doing before the stairs underneath their feet begin to slant towards the first floor like some kind of slide. 

“Oh, gods,” Taehyung curses as he struggles to climb the last few steps to the second floor. Jeongguk grabs Taehyung’s hand and yanks him up the remaining steps and out on the landing seconds before the stairs below smooth into oblivion. 

And then they’re moving again, down the hallway towards the library. 

They’ll come back for you, Jeongguk tells himself as they reach another set of wooden stairs. They have to. 

His breaths come in ragged pants now, painful through his bruised throat as they climb to the fifth floor of the east wing, up to the very top of the staircase.

They wouldn’t just leave you behind, Jeongguk tells himself as Taehyung throws his shoulder against the door across from the staircase’s mouth. There’s a gold plate on it that declares it the ‘Roof Access’ ladder. 

They wouldn’t. 

Worry seeps into Jeongguk’s bones as some of the adrenaline fades away. All he can hear are his labored gasps and his weary footfalls as he climbs the metal rungs of the ladder after Taehyung. They’re louder than the cries of the horde. They’re louder than the thunderclaps of the black cloud in the sky as Taehyung shoves open the hatch on the ceiling of the maintenance shaft, opening it towards the top of the building. 

Jeongguk climbs out after him. The wind whips his hair around his face, cold and biting as the shadow of black soaks the sky in midnight hues. 

“Where are they?” Taehyung shouts to be heard over the chaos below. He rushes to the edge of the building’s roof, peering over the edge as he searches the surrounding woods desperately. 

Jeongguk follows. Below are the remnants of Yoongi’s fire magic-- scorched earth and charred bodies marr the once-pristine courtyard. The smell of burning flesh singes Jeongguk’s nose, but he forces it away. 

There are a few trees in the forest that are on fire as well. The blaze spreads from tree to tree, jumping between the gaps in the canopy as the crown of the fire razes the skyline. 

They must’ve made it to the forest, Jeongguk realizes. If Yoongi’s magic touched the trees, then they have to be close to the ship. They must be close. They have to be-

“ There!” Taehyung yells. He points toward a small break in the trees, back where they must’ve parked the ship at the beginning of this whole fucking mess.

Relief courses through Jeongguk’s body as he sees the beginnings of Yoongi’s ship. It rises from the clearing, up and over the treetops, higher and higher into the sky. The moment it heads towards them, Taehyung tilts his head back and whoops at the top of his lungs. 

For a brief moment, Jeongguk can feel the rush of excitement too. Because his plan worked-- it fucking worked , and they’re not splattered across the staircase downstairs or being pulled apart by the undead masses below. 

And then the excitement dies, because the hatch of the maintenance shaft smashes open. A hand shoots up, greyed and just a tad rotted. The first reanimated corpse follows it. Jeongguk turns his back on the ship that approaches as the tension in his muscles returns. 

“Oh, shit,” Taehyung bleats, looking back at the dead now crossing the roof alarmingly fast. He looks back up at Yoongi’s ship, willing it with his eyes to speed faster. “C’mon, come on, come the fuck on!”

Jeongguk rushes towards the edge of the building-- the small lip of overhang that surrounds the rooftop before dropping off into the void, and waves his hands above his head. Desperation fills his body as Yoongi’s ship inches closer and closer. He’s a strong fighter-- Jeongguk knows that he’s a strong fighter. 

But his throat is so damaged that breathing hurts, and even he can’t take on fifty or so undead Alchemists without emerging unscathed. 

As if on cue, Taehyung shouts something incoherently. It sounds like a warning, and Jeongguk instinctively ducks just as shards of what look like pointed diamonds soar over his head. 

There’s the briefest ‘thump’ sound, but Jeongguk is too caught up in watching Yoongi’s craft descend to the rooftop to pay it any attention. The ramp to the ship is open and waiting, and Seokjin stands with one arm on the railing. 

Wind whips his hair around his face, and Seokjin outstretches a hand. “ Jump!” he screams at them over the howling of the undead crowd at Jeongguk’s heels, over the sound of the black cloud expanding thunderously in the sky. 

Jeongguk looks back at the rooftop. The reanimated bodies swarm the roof, almost close enough to grab at Taehyung by now, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste another second. He blocks out the dizzying six-foot gap between the roof’s edge and the ship’s interior and jumps. 

Below, the scenery swirls with the promise of a swift death should he stumble. But Jeongguk doesn’t; he lands on the ramp of the cockpit on sure feet, whipping his head around and motioning frantically for Taehyung to do the same. 

Taehyung jumps, but so does one of the undead bodies behind him. 

For a second, the entire world slows down. 

Jeongguk can see in his mind’s eye how this plays out. The Alchemist will catch on to Taehyung’s ankle, snatching him out of the air and dragging him down to meet the earth below until his blood paints the grass. 

The whole of the world narrows down to Taehyung and the body behind him as they soar through the air. 

One single heartbeat is all it takes for Jeongguk to move. 

And he doesn’t even think about it. 

A shot rings out through the air, and the undead student on Taehyung’s heels hurtles limply towards the ground. There’s a bullet between its eyes. 

A bullet that Jeongguk put there. 

Taehyung slams onto the ramp as Lethe smokes in Jeongguk’s hand. 

He hasn’t taken a shot in three years. Jeongguk hasn’t killed anybody in three years. It’s sickening how fast his skill with a gun comes screaming back to him. 

Seokjin ushers them into the main deck, like the burden of murder isn’t shaking Jeongguk to the core. 

A high whine settles in Jeongguk’s ears as the ramp behind them closes. He sees Namjoon on the floor, right next to Jimin’s unconscious body. In the background, Yoongi shouts into the cockpit’s receiver, “This is Min Yoongi, pilot of Alpha-sixty-two Point three, sending out a may-day code Delta Charlie Bravo. Alerting surrounding security stations to potential planetary destruction, requesting assistance for-”

“He needs a medic,” Namjoon says, looking up at Jeongguk with wide eyes as Yoongi rattles off codes. “He’s dying.” 

The ship around them shakes as something crashes into the hull. Jeongguk spares a glance out of one of the reinforced windows. Dread pools in his stomach as the reanimated Alchemists on the roof draw sigils in the air to volley rocks and spears of light at the ship.

They crash against the side hard enough to send it rocking on its axis, and there are so many of them. It’s like piloting through a fucking asteroid belt. 

“Is the AI onboard equipped with medical tech?” Taehyung asks, leaning on Seokjin to keep himself from falling to the floor as the ship pitches. 

Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t know. Could you even fix it in time?” 

“I could try.”

“Then try,” Seokjin barks. He grabs Taehyung by the wrist, drags him towards the ladder shaft that splits the center of the room. 

Something explodes across the top of the ship, and Yoongi curses loud enough that Jeongguk can hear him through the metal of the cockpit’s door. There’s no way they make it out of this unscathed, not when they still have a Necromancer to deal with. The hits keep coming faster than Yoongi can outmaneuver them. 

The pieces of rock and metal smash against the windows hard enough that Jeongguk is worried they’re going to buckle under the pressure. 

And deep down, deep deep down, Jeongguk knows what he has to do. The thought makes him lightheaded, but then he looks down at Jimin. 

Jimin , who lies on the floor in a pool of his own blood, limp as a ragdoll. 

Jimin, who’s been trapped inside of himself for weeks without anybody noticing. 

He deserves better than to die on this fucking planet at the hands of the very thing that put him in this position to begin with. 

It’s not even a conscious decision that Jeongguk makes-- because one second he’s standing over Namjoon struggling to stay on his feet, and in the next he’s rushing sure-footedly towards the cockpit. 

He yanks the door open easily, ignores the look of shock Yoongi casts over his shoulder from where he grips the throttle. “What’re you-” Yoongi starts to ask, but Jeongguk is already climbing up the ladder and into the gunner capsule before he can finish. 

Breathe, Jeongguk, he soothes, trying desperately to not remember the last time he was in here. Breathe. 

Jeongguk snaps the five-point safety belt across his chest with the ease of a practiced professional. He slides the oxygen mask over his face, fastens the clips around his head. As he’s making quick work of unstopping the break and adjusting the pedals, Yoongi’s voice prickles to life through the receiver in his helmet. 

“Jeongguk, do you copy?” he asks. 

All Jeongguk can manage is a grunt in reply. 

Yoongi makes a satisfied noise, piloting them further from the university and up towards the horizon. “Good,” he says, “Because we’re a team now, do you hear? You can do this. And don’t you dare let us die without a fight, copy?”

And even despite the circumstances, despite the fact that Jeongguk is sitting in one of the only places he wishes he’d never have to come back to, Yoongi’s words bring a tilt of a smile to his lips. He’s not alone up here in the capsule. Not this time. 

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a reply. “Engaging combat formation Stigma,” he commands. 

Jeongguk nods to himself, already engaging. He watches the horizon as his capsule detaches from the top of the cockpit, ascending until it rides on the light tethers that criss-cross the ship. 

He looks up at the cloud of black that nearly chokes the sky. It covers the atmosphere in sticky blue-blacks, casts shadows down onto the world below. In the darkness, Jeongguk sees shapes taking form. He doesn’t know what kind of magic this is, but he knows that it’s not simple Necromancy. 

The things that swim in the void seem physical, like some kind of bastardization of transmutation. There are creatures in the depths that Jeongguk’s never seen before. And slowly, carefully, they emerge from the shadows in tangible form. 

Jeongguk hears Yoongi curse through his receiver. “What in gods’ names,” Yoongi breathes as the creatures hurtle themselves out of the shade of the Necromancer. “That’s blood magic.” 

The words don’t mean anything to Jeongguk, but they don’t have to. All he needs to do is keep this ship in the air long enough to get them out. To make sure that Jimin doesn’t die. 

As his knees knock into the pedals on either side of him, as his fingertips close around the handles of the machine guns, something inside of Jeongguk ‘clicks’ back into place. He’d forgotten how easy it is to shoot when he has something to protect. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. He focuses on the shadowed shapes that fling themselves towards Yoongi’s ship; the Alchemists that still hurtle spells and boulders at them from the ground. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, centers himself. 

Until the Jeongguk who opens his eyes is not the same one as before.

Everything happens so fast . 

Jeongguk had almost forgotten how quick fighting to the death can be. The atmosphere passes by in vignettes. Through it all, Jeongguk hears the conversation the others are having on the main deck, piped in courtesy of Yoongi’s headset. 

“Hello. I am the Heuristic Operational Personal Entity,” a mechanical voice buzzes, “What seems to be ailing you today, young man?” 

Jeongguk spins the capsule around, sends it flying under the belly of the ship. He squeezes the triggers on his guns to shoot the monstrous, snake-like shadow out of the sky. It dissolves into whispers that get lost in the chaos of the night. 

He kicks his knee into the left panel, shoots back up. 

“He’s dying.” Seokjin’s voice is faint through the headset.  

“My, my, my,” the mechanical voice tsks, “That does not sound good at all . Please, allow me to assist.” 

Jeongguk listens to the calls that Yoongi makes over the din of the cockpit. He keeps his focus on the atmosphere above, how they’re so close to punching their way through the Necromancer’s shroud of black. 

He’s lightheaded from all the action, sticky with sweat against his skin. 

Jeongguk breathes through the mask, zeroes in on his next target.

“You should only feel a pinch, sir,” the machine says cheerfully.

Jimin lets out a bloodcurdling scream that nearly blows Jeongguk’s ears out; Namjoon retches at whatever he must be seeing. 

“Taehyung!” Seokjin yells.

Taehyung’s huff makes its way through the line. “Okay, you try repairing an AI in five minutes and see how it turns out.” 

After that, Jeongguk has to close himself off from the sounds Jimin makes. They’re worse than the ones in the observatory; they’re sounds that Jeongguk decides right then and there that he never wants to hear again. 

So he focuses on his breathing, concentrates on Yoongi’s firm voice that races over the sound of thinly-veiled panic pumping Jeongguk’s heart in his ears. 

They accelerate, and Yoongi shouts a, “Hold on!” 

The rat-a-tat-tat of the machine guns echo as Jeongguk blinks sweat out of his brow. Yoongi brings the craft up, closer to the bottom of the black sky, up towards the horizon, 

Closer,

Closer,

Closer, until-

They spearhead straight through the Necromancer, leaving a hole in their wake as Yoongi pushes them through the upper atmosphere and into the void of space beyond. The second they’re free of Earane’s orbit, speeding past the useless security posts that smatter across the outer reaches of the ionosphere, Jeongguk yanks the oxygen mask off. 

“Good work out there, kid,” Yoongi’s voice crackles through his earpiece. He sounds relieved and just a little bit incredulous. 

Jeongguk doesn’t quite blame him; he himself can’t believe that he did that. And did it well, no less. With a satisfied little ‘huff’ Jeongguk unclasps the five-point harness from his chest. His side twinges a little as he goes, but Jeongguk chalks it up to the fact that Yoongi’s gunner capsule is just a bit smaller than the ones he’s used to. 

A few moments after Yoongi takes the ship out of battle formation, Jeongguk opens the hatch to the cockpit. He climbs down the ladder, readily accepting the pat on his shoulder that Yoongi gives.

Yoongi looks about as sweaty and exhausted as Jeongguk feels, if maybe not exactly as dizzy-looking. Together, they push past the cockpit’s heavy metal door. 

“Well, well, look at you two,” Namjoon greets with a vaguely motion-sick smile. “Heroes of the day and whatnot.”

Seokjin scoffs. “I think that, out of anyone here, Taehyung should get that title.” He gestures towards Jimin, who lies there catatonic on the floor, but is otherwise patched up.

Jeongguk’s eyes drift to the AI in the room. It’s the same one that Jeongguk saw all those weeks ago down in the holding bay, but this time his eyes are open wide and friendly. The yellow-gold irises shine, even in the dim lighting of the cabin.

“Hello,” the AI introduces himself. “I am the Heuristic Operational Personal Entity. At your service.” 

The sound Yoongi makes is choked off and strangled. Quietly, he whispers, “H-Hoseok?” 

The AI tilts its head. “I am the Heuristic Operational Personal Entity,” it repeats cheerfully. “At your service.” 

“What happened to him?” Yoongi asks fiercely, cutting a glance to Taehyung. 

Jeongguk watches as Taehyung lifts his hands palms-out defensively, the room spinning slightly as the adrenaline fades. “I had to revert him to factory settings to get him up and running. But I should be able to reboot his backups the next time we dock.” 

The nod that Yoongi gives in return is curt. “Great. I’ll make sure to-”

“What is your name?” the AI cuts him off. He raises one hand, gestures towards Jeongguk. 

Blinking, Jeongguk tries to reply. It takes some straining, some finagling, but he croaks weakly, “J-Jeon Jeongguk.”

The smile that the H.O.P.E. AI offers him is blinding. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jeon Jeongguk.” He points to Jeongguk’s abdomen, grin widening into what is probably supposed to be a reassuring smile. “You appear to be mortally wounded! It is time to see a Medical Expert.” 

For a heartbeat, the room falls into silence. 

Mortally… wounded? Jeongguk thinks.

Carefully, he dips his hands down to feel around his waistline. The moment his fingers brush over his left side, pain sears through his entire body so hard that Jeongguk lets out a garbled scream. 

In an instant, Namjoon and Seokjin rise to their feet. Seokjin’s fingers fly up to the zipper right below Jeongguk’s dog tags, tugging it down to his bellybutton. He sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

Jeongguk looks down. 

And there, embedded in his abdomen, is a shard of diamond. The one he thought he dodged on the rooftop. It’s surrounded by a worrying amount of blood; the crimson stickiness of the liquid rises up Jeongguk’s undershirt, stains his black jumpsuit with the smell of copper. 

The moment Jeongguk lays eyes on it, he feels his legs buckle. The adrenaline fades, and all at once, Jeongguk is hit with the lightheadedness of blood loss. 

“Fuck, how much has he lost?” Namjoon breathes, face draining of color. 

The AI scans Jeongguk’s body up and down. “Approximately three-point-two litres.” As Jeongguk collapses to his knees, the AI adds helpfully, “He is entering into hemorrhagic shock. Please seek emergency assistance.”

“You are our emergency assistance!” Taehyung bellows, but the sound of his cry fades until it’s hazy around the edges. 

Jeongguk falls to the floor. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, his vision darkening around the edges as his eyelids start to droop. He focuses on Jimin’s profile, just a few feet away. There’s still blood on his mouth, but his breath comes in steady inhales and exhales. 

At least I saved everyone else, Jeongguk thinks fuzzily as Seokjin shouts something about the importance of not removing the diamond impaling Jeongguk. 

Jimin is alive. The realization is soothing. It means that Jeongguk’s done something. Finally, finally, he’s saved someone. 

You can rest now. 

He’s alive. 

The understanding is warm, even warmer than the darkness that rushes up to meet Jeongguk as his eyes flicker shut and he falls into sleep.

Chapter Text

Jeongguk has never been one of those ‘wake up peacefully’ kind of people. He’s more like the kind of person who wakes up with a start, eyes wide open and searching the room like he’s waiting for something to jump out of the shadows. 

But this time, when Jeongguk wakes up, everything feels fuzzy . His arms are heavy and there’s this weight on his chest like someone’s been sitting on it for the last few hours. And there’s a fog in his head that clouds his vision, slows his thought process. 

With a heavy sigh, Jeongguk flickers his eyes open. He has to blink against the brightness of the lights on the ceiling. Jeongguk hisses and brings an arm up to cover his face. Or, he tries to, but he can’t even muster up the strength to move himself. 

What? Jeongguk thinks. He braves the fucking burning light again, turns his head to look at the blurry shapes of the room. He’s in some kind of bed, pressed up near the wall of windows-- which must be where the sun is blinding him from. 

And there’s someone sitting in the chair next to him. They’re sitting just so, and the shadows that the sun shrouds them in are thick enough that Jeongguk doesn’t immediately recognize the person sitting in the bed next to him. 

It sends a drop of fear through his system. All at once, the events of the last few hours come screaming back to Jeongguk-- the University, the gunner capsule, Jimin choking him. Jeongguk’s eyes widen instinctively, and he jerks backwards away from the stranger. The sudden movement pulls at something on his side, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. 

He feels so vulnerable lying like this, splayed out on the bed. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” the person in the chair soothes carefully. “You’re okay. You’re alright.” 

It’s only when the stranger leans forwards to reach their hands out towards Jeongguk that he recognizes the man sitting next to his bedside. It’s Jimin -- he’s got honey-brown eyes now, but it’s Jimin nonetheless. 

Jeongguk honestly can’t help the way he goes jerking backwards. It’s sheer instinct to avoid Jimin’s touch, because the last time he’d felt Jimin on him, Jimin had kissed him. And then choked him within an inch of his life. 

“I-” Jeongguk chokes out, voice scratchy and rough, “Who-” He breaks off into a cough, well aware of the way his chest rises and falls in semi-panicked gulps of air. 

There’s just the briefest flicker of hurt across Jimin’s face. It’s so small that it’s almost not noticeable, but Jeongguk picks it out before Jimin is plastering on a soft smile. “It’s me,” Jimin offers and then winces. “Ah, uhm. Right.” 

Jimin puts a hand on his chest. “I’m Park Jimin. The- uhh- the real Park Jimin. I don’t think we’ve formally met before.” The smile on his face tightens, turns just plastic enough that Jeongguk can feel how uncomfortable Jimin is right now. 

“Oh,” Jeongguk says intelligently. He squints as he takes in Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing a simple white tunic and tailored brown trousers; there are no silver adornments on his fingers or throat or ears; he fidgets his hands nervously in his lap. 

But his eyes are what catch Jeongguk’s attention so effortlessly. They’re the same gold-flecked eyes that Jeongguk saw that night, back up on the ship. Jimin’s entire demeanor is different. He still sits with his back straight and tall, but there’s something about him that Jeongguk can’t quite place. 

Jeongguk shakes his head, forcing himself out of whatever stupor Jimin managed to put him under. He blames it on his sleep-addled brain. 

“We have met though, haven’t we?” Jeongguk asks slowly. “Was that not you on the deck of the ship that night? You-” 

Embarrassment floods Jeongguk for a moment. There’s something about addressing that night lying prone like this that leaves him feeling entirely too exposed. Still, he makes himself suck it up and finish, “...you talked me down.” 

Jimin’s entire face lights up. He looks young for the first time Jeongguk’s ever seen. Like he’s actually twenty-five and not currently possessed by the spirit of some old Necromancer. “Oh! Yeah, that was me. I just- I didn’t think you’d remember that.” 

“Of course I remember that.” The words leave Jeongguk’s mouth before he can keep them in. He looks at the white-gold wallpapered wall just over Jimin’s shoulder and mentally smacks himself for not being more careful. 

“Oh,” Jimin says, clearly surprised. He clears his throat and twists his hands together in his lap. Awkward silence descends, and Jeongguk honestly wishes that the entire floor would just cave underneath him and swallow him whole. Anything is preferable to this-- because Jeongguk dislikes people more than most, and this is his nightmare . 

Jimin opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. He leans backwards in his chair and sucks in a breath through his teeth. And all at once, Jimin launches into a speech. He talks so fast that Jeongguk misses half of what he says. 

“Sorry, I- I don’t exactly know what to say right now. Because what do you say to someone who you deceived and then kissed and then tried to kill in an observatory? Just ‘hey, hello, I’m sorry’ ?” Jimin titters uncomfortably, “Sorry about that, by the way. The attempted murder, I mean. A-And the kiss, too! I shouldn’t have, uhm. I shouldn’t have done that, but it wasn’t really me, you know? And I kind of feel like I need to make it very clear that if I were to kiss you, it wouldn’t be like that. I- not that I would kiss you, not if you didn’t want it, but-” 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk interrupts, head spinning from the emotional strain it takes to keep up. This Jimin is a whirlwind . Jeongguk is still on the fence about whether it’s preferable to the possessed-Jimin. 

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.” 

Jimin shuts his mouth with an audible ‘click’. “Right,” he peeps, twiddling his thumbs together. Jimin actually looks embarrassed at himself, like he actually can’t control what comes out of his mouth. 

Surprisingly, Jeongguk finds himself feeling bad . Maybe it’s because he also tries to keep everything tucked away safely inside his chest; maybe it’s because he knows what it’s like to lose control for a moment. Or maybe it’s because of how Jimin worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and the movement makes him look so fucking-

“I’m sor-” Jeongguk tries to apologize, firmly shutting his brain off before it can pursue that avenue of thought. 

At the exact same moment, Jimin’s mouth flies open again. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin interrupts. He licks his lips, doesn’t give Jeongguk a chance to say anything before launching back into another verbal novel. “I’m not usually like this, you know. I’m just-- fuck , I’m nervous. And you’re tall and kind of badass-looking; it’s a little intimidating.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen comically large. He splutters over his words. “Not that I’m, like, scared of you-- which, I’m not , because let’s be honest here, I could absolutely kick your ass in a fight. But I just- I’m sure that you’ve been called intimidating before, and that can’t be the best feeling ever. Like, I’m sure it’s not news, but-”

Jeongguk watches, dead inside, as Jimin forcibly bites the inside of his cheek to get himself to shut up. “I’m doing it again,” Jimin huffs out, “Shit. Just- uh. Yeah. You say something now.” 

For a moment, Jeongguk just sits there. He piques up an eyebrow and waits for Jimin to jump in again. Only once Jimin mimes locking his lips does Jeongguk let himself flop back onto the bed and ask, “Where are we?” 

Now that Jeongguk’s vision has cleared, it’s apparent that they’re certainly not on the ship anymore. The room Jeongguk’s bed is stationed in is large enough for an entire jazz band to practice in comfortably. There are windows along the wall to Jeongguk’s left, and the sheer white curtains that float in the breeze do jack shit to block out the afternoon light. 

Everything in the room is either a shade of pearl, eggshell, or cream. Even the wallpaper (which Jeongguk thought was gold) is just a shade of darker white. It feels strangely clinical in a way that Jeongguk does not enjoy at all .

But what’s most alarming about this room is that the bed actually fits him. For the first time in his life-- that Jeongguk can remember, at least-- his feet don’t hang off of the edge of the mattress. Jeongguk might actually be dead, because only the afterlife could have beds like this.

It takes exactly one heartbeat before Jimin is leaning forwards again. He drums his hands on his knees as he talks, apparently full to the brim with a kind of energy that makes Jeongguk want to sleep for fifty years. 

“Oh, right!” Jimin says, “We’re at the palace.” 

Jeongguk blinks. “The… palace?” 

“The palace,” Jimin affirms. “As in, like, the Empresses’ palace. Where they live. And work. And stuff.” 

“The palace?” Jeongguk bleats. He’s well aware of the fact that he’s just parroting the same thing over and over, but of all the places he’d expected to wake up, this was not one of them. Dead in a ditch was more along the lines of his guesses. 

Jimin looks like he’s having trouble containing the amused grin that tries to rise to his face. “That’s right. You missed the grand tour, but well, this is the hospital wing.” Jimin raises his hands and shakes them enthusiastically. “Ta-da!” 

Shit, Jeongguk thinks to himself. He closes his eyes, feels the beginnings of a headache pressing against his temples. It hits him all at once that he’s exhausted, and having Jimin here feels a little bit like having his teeth drilled. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Jeongguk mumbles moodily as he tries to process the fact that he’s at the royal palace . 

Jimin lets out a put-upon scoff. “Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got this ‘brusque and cold’ thing going on?” he volleys back without missing a beat. “Because I’m over it.” 

The sass is surprising. What’s more surprising is that Jeongguk finds that he doesn’t entirely hate it. It’s better than the endless chattering that seems to be one of Jimin’s defining character traits. 

“You’ve said something like that to me before,” Jeongguk hums. It’s true-- back when they’d first shared a hotel on Xeada. The realization that it wasn’t Jimin that he was talking to sends a shiver down Jeongguk’s spine. 

Jimin seems to be thinking the same thing. “I guess I have. But that wasn’t really… me. You know?” 

Jeongguk opens his eyes. He turns to look at Jimin, cheek pressed into the luxurious-feeling pillow beneath his head. “Were you really in there the whole time?” he asks, “For all of it?” 

The way that Jimin’s face darkens is more than enough of an indication that they’re treading into some dangerous territory, but Jeongguk can’t help the curiosity that feels like it’s burning a hole through his chest. 

Jimin swallows, thinking. “I was,” he says eventually, much quieter than Jeongguk has heard him speak so far. “I just couldn’t do anything about it. Sometimes when he’d get tired, I’d get a chance to say something, but it was never for very long. And then I’d be gone again. Most of the time I was just watching.” 

“ ‘He’ ?”

“The Necromancer. The one I summoned on accident.” Jimin’s eyes go a little unfocused. He stares at some stationary point behind Jeongguk’s head, out the window and into the gardens beyond. 

Jeongguk’s hit with the understanding that Jimin is literally having to cope with the fact that he’s been a prisoner in his own body. And here Jeongguk is, asking probing questions like Jimin hasn’t just been through trauma. 

All at once, Jeongguk feels like an asshole. If anyone should be able to respect boundaries, it’s him. 

But then Jimin’s eyes are coming back into focus. “He’s a man. Some kind of Alchemist elder I think, because hoo boy , he was powerful. And I’m no weakling, but I’ve never seen someone like him.” Jimin’s fists clench and unclench in his lap. 

Despite that, Jeongguk instinctively asks a follow-up. “Did you get a name?” 

“No,” Jimin sighs. “I don’t even know what spell I used to summon him. I was just messing around.” 

For some reason, the way Jimin reduces casting a summoning spell to ‘messing around’ brings the barest hint of a smile to Jeongguk’s face. It’s ridiculous. But Jeongguk can’t quite stop himself from raising his brows and teasing, “Messing around. With an ancient tome.” 

“Yeah.”

“For fun.”

“Affirmative.” 

“You’re-” Jeongguk lets out a chuckle, shaking his head as he turns back to stare at the ceiling. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” 

Jimin grumbles, but he doesn’t actually sound upset. “I’m twenty-five, okay? I am well within my rights to make occasional bad decisions.” 

“Even when they lead to the end of the world.” 

It’s meant to be a joke, but it only takes a few seconds of tense silence for Jeongguk to realize what the fuck he’s just said. He doesn’t even need to turn to see the shadow that hangs from Jimin’s face-- Jeongguk can feel it. It adds to the weight of the room, presses against his chest as the voice in Jeongguk’s head croons that, yeah, he’s an asshole . 

“I guess you’re right,” Jimin murmurs. Out of the corner of Jeongguk’s eye, he can see Jimin looking back towards the door across the room. “I should go, right? This can’t be helping either of us. I just- I thought you might want some company.”

Jeongguk feels an apology building in his throat. He wants to squish it down, wants to follow the instinct in his brain that tells him to protect himself at the cost of everybody else. But Jeongguk is pretty far past the point of being able to pretend like he’s completely uninvolved in the lives of the rest of his crewmates. 

So, even though it feels like someone’s pulling a barbed hook out of his throat, Jeongguk says, “No. Shit . I’m sorry, I’m just still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m here . And you’re just so different, that I- I guess it’s throwing me.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and wills the headache to fade. It doesn’t. 

“I’m not that different. Just… less homicidal.” The joke falls out of Jimin’s mouth so easily, like being possessed and then nearly dying isn’t a big deal at all. It’s remarkable that Jimin is still trying to break the tension in the room, even after all of Jeongguk’s colossal missteps. 

It occurs to Jeongguk that Jimin is probably a much better person than he is. Than he’ll ever be, if Jeongguk is being honest with himself. 

“Well, that’s good at least,” Jeongguk replies. 

Jimin nods. “I think so, too. And hey-- I can give you a grand tour of the place later, okay? I’ve got some free time, and you’d probably like to be able to move around eventually.” He drums his fingers along the metal railing of Jeongguk’s bed. 

No! Jeongguk’s self-preservation brain screams. Don’t make friends! Bad idea! 

But Jeongguk is tired, and his iron-clad grip on his own emotions is slipping just a bit under Jimin’s influence. “Sure,” he agrees instead. “Why not? It’s not like anyone else is here to offer instead.” 

Remarkably, the sarcasm makes Jimin laugh. It’s just for a moment, but Jeongguk still feels some kind of satisfaction bubbling in his chest. He doesn’t think too much about it. 

“ Right,” Jimin drawls. “They were here earlier, though. Don’t worry, they haven’t forgotten about you; they’re just in a meeting right now.” 

That catches Jeongguk’s attention. “A meeting?”

Jimin waves his hand about loftily. It looks a little forced, like he’s trying to downplay how important this whole situation is. “Strategy meeting with the Empresses,” he says, talking over the sound of Jeongguk’s surprised choking, “They’ve been working through the astronomy archives to find a star chart that matches the one on the back of your neck. It’s slow going. They thought it was just going to take a few days, but I fucking knew that it’d take a month, and-”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk interrupts, which is apparently the only way to get a word in edgewise with Jimin. “Rewind. Say that again.” 

Jimin nods. “They’re in a strategy meeting with the Empresses.”

“Not that.”

“You should really be more specific,” Jimin mutters, wrinkling his nose in irritation. 

Jeongguk struggles to sit up. It’s painful and slow, but Jimin’s hands are on him to help him into a seated position. His fingers are surprisingly calloused, and Jeongguk really shouldn’t be noticing that now, but he does. 

Once he’s sitting upright, Jeongguk takes a deep breath and practically screeches, “It’s been weeks?!”

“Oh, right,” Jimin grins nervously. “You were kind of in a coma. For three weeks. About. Give or take a day or two.”

Panic settles into Jeongguk’s bloodstream. “Three weeks?” 

Jimin bites his lip and looks towards the door, clearly wishing that a doctor would swoop in and save him from having to be the one doing this right now. He takes a fortifying breath. “You lost a lot of blood and technically died twice on the operating table. It was- uh- pretty scary, if I’m honest. You’re lucky that Seokjin is well-connected.”

The breeze that pushes through the open windows is warm against Jeongguk’s skin, and it should be relaxing, but all Jeongguk can process is the fact that he’s missed out on three weeks of his life. Three weeks , just up and gone. Just like the rest of his life. 

“I died?” Jeongguk asks as weariness settles bone-deep in his body. 

Jimin’s lips twist into a grimace. “Uh-huh.” 

“I don’t remember any of it,” Jeongguk says heavily. 

Surprisingly, Jimin mumbles under his breath, “Pretty sure that’s how comas work, friend.” 

And now probably isn’t the best time to be making jokes about Jeongguk’s situation, but Jimin’s sheer audacity eases some of the tension in the room. Jeongguk is grateful for it-- it feels like he can breathe for a moment. 

“So, what exactly am I supposed to do now? Just wait around until I’m useful again?” Jeongguk gestures towards his body, bandaged and bruised under the thin white sheets. 

Jimin shrugs. “Pretty much,” he says, “I was in here for a while too. I’m fine now, but it was boring as hell , especially since you were comatose the entire time. I played a lot of backgammon with Taehyung.”

Unease settles in Jeongguk’s chest, because Jimin sharing a room with him for weeks while Jeongguk was in a coma doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t matter that Jimin isn’t possessed anymore; the effects of Jimin’s previous deception still linger in the air. 

Jeongguk wants to ask about his time asleep, but all of the energy seeps out of his body. Who knew that being in a coma would be so tiring? 

As Jeongguk closes his eyes for a minute, Jimin softens his voice. “You should probably get some rest. Recovering from a mortal wound isn’t exactly a walk in the park.” 

The chair skids across the marbled floor as Jimin rises from his seat. His footfalls are quiet as he heads towards the door. Jimin calls, “I’ll be back soon, alright? And then we can take you on your grand tour and catch you up on all the palace gossip.”

“Sure thing,” Jeongguk breathes. His body is already being pulled deeper and deeper into sleep, slumping down involuntarily until Jeongguk’s on his back again. 

And just before Jeongguk slips away, Jimin’s voice carries across the room. “Try not to miss me too much, sugar.” 

Immediately, Jeongguk’s eyes fly open. All of the times Jimin has called him that before-- all of the times the Alchemist possessing Jimin used that nickname to tease him or flirt with him-- come shrieking back to life in Jeongguk’s head. 

He’s thrown back into the observatory, Jimin on his chest, hands wrapped around his throat squeezing and squeezing -

“Don’t call me that,” Jeongguk growls. His voice sounds cold to his own ears, but he can’t help it. 

Jimin stiffens, blanching by the doorway. “Oh, shit. Sorry, I’m just used to-”

“Just. Don’t,” Jeongguk says, ignoring the way his tone shudders just a bit. 

Just like that, the semi-light atmosphere that filled the room before deflates. It withers, rots, turns into something so acrid-feeling that Jeongguk thinks he might be suffocating. 

“Okay,” Jimin says, voice unsteady as well. “Okay. I’ll just- I’ll see you later, then.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything else. He just stares up at the ceiling as Jimin closes the door behind him, trying to fight off the memories of having his throat crushed by the man who’d just spent days lying next to him in a hospital bed. 

He tries to keep himself from feeling the fingers on the column of his neck, but it’s hard. It doesn’t even matter that Jimin is different now-- the person who nearly killed him wore Jimin’s face. It used his hands. His mouth. 

Gods, Jeongguk thinks shakily. This shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s survived worse. But something about the fact that it’s Jimin who did it to him, possessed or not, sits like a cold stone in Jeongguk’s stomach. 

The feeling grows and swells until Jeongguk can’t do anything else but lay there, alone in the hospital bed, and imagine the feeling of the hand around his throat. It chokes him into an uneasy quiet, throat thick as he finally drifts off into sleep. 

🌕

“Ngguk-” 

Jeongguk rolls on his side, away from the sunset that trickles in through the windows. He grumbles under his breath and screws his eyes up tightly. Jeongguk wants nothing more than to sink back into the fog of sleep, to put off all of his problems for a few more hours. 

But the person at his bedside is persistent. 

“ Jeongguk,” they whisper. It sounds like Taehyung. “Jeon gguk , are you up?” 

With a put-upon huff, Jeongguk begrudgingly cracks one eye open. It’s clear that Taehyung isn’t going to be leaving any time soon, and Jeongguk doesn’t have the energy to wait him out. “Gods. I am now,” he mutters, voice hoarse and scratchy from sleep. “What the fuck do you want?”

Taehyung stands at the bottom edge of Jeongguk’s hospital bed. His bright blue hair is completely gone-- it’s faded into a soft brown, curling softly at the edges in the humidity. His blue eye whirs and focuses on Jeongguk. Taehyung isn’t wearing any adornments. All of the jewels are gone, replaced by a simple cropped ruby tunic and snug-looking black trousers. 

“That’s awfully rude of you,” Taehyung sniffs. “I’m here to take you to dinner, and this is how you repay me?”

Jeongguk shoots Taehyung what hopefully looks like a condescending smile. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in you like that,” he smirks blearily. 

Sleep-Jeongguk seems to be a bitch. 

All the comeback does is draw a surprised huff of laughter from Taehyung. He looks vaguely impressed at the wit, which is absolutely not what Jeongguk wanted. “Thank gods. I have my sights set on someone else,” Taehyung sighs dreamily as he reaches down and tugs the covers off of Jeongguk with the strength of someone three times his size. 

Swallowing back the surprised yelp that tries to claw up his throat, Jeongguk glares at Taehyung and accuses, “Seokjin, right?” 

“You’re surprisingly perceptive,” Taehyung grins. He turns, wheels the wheelchair at the foot of the bed over to one side of Jeongguk’s cot. 

Jeongguk stares at it moodily. There’s no way sitting in that is going to be comfortable. It’s built for someone half his size and weight. “You’re just bad at hiding things,” Jeongguk retorts weakly. 

He sits up and rubs at his eyes. Jeongguk tries to ignore the sting of pain that lances up his spine as he moves his left arm. Probably not a good sign, but no doctor of any sort has stopped by to tell Jeongguk not to move, so he figures that it’s alright. 

“Whatever,” Taehyung shrugs dismissively. He pats the seat of the wheelchair, smiles enticingly. “Come on. Up and up. Your throne awaits.” 

Jeongguk curses under his breath but swings his legs over the side of his bed and struggles to his feet anyway. Taehyung darts forwards to support Jeongguk’s weight. It’s funny, considering that Jeongguk could probably bench-press Taehyung or throw him fifty feet in the air. But still-- if it keeps Jeongguk from face-planting on the cold marble floor, he'll accept the assistance. No matter how embarrassing it is.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk exhales as he sits into the seat of the chair that, yeah , is much too small for his frame. “I thought I was supposed to be resting.” The two feet that he’d walked to get into the wheelchair drained what little energy Jeongguk still had in his body. 

Taehyung spins Jeongguk around with practiced ease, pushes him through the white door and out into the hallway beyond. “You’ve been sleeping for sixteen hours,” Taehyung says conversationally, like that’s normal . “Honestly, we all worried you just fell back into a coma or something. But hey! You didn't! That’s great.” 

“Oh,” Jeongguk says quietly. Another sixteen hours that he’s lost-- funneled away down the drain because his body is apparently too weak to handle being impaled. 

The thought is ridiculous. Jeongguk knows that it’s ridiculous to think that he should be able to withstand being stabbed in the stomach, but something in the back of his mind is yelling at him that he needs to try harder get stronger do better . Everyone else is. But Jeongguk is just here, stuck in a wheelchair-- or there, stuck in a hospital bed, useless and limp. 

Jeongguk lets his thoughts sweep him away as he drinks in the hallway that they walk down. The floor is a bricked, dark slate. It stretches further than Jeongguk can see; its path is mirrored on the vaulted ceiling by green tiles. Latticed wooden doors dot the right wall, and the red beams that support them stretch towards the ceiling, meeting the tile with triangles of intricately carved cornice moulding. The left side is open, and looks out onto the palace grounds. 

The sight nearly takes Jeongguk’s breath away. There are flowers, and lakes, and trees stretching into the space beyond. And it occurs to Jeongguk all at once that, if they’re at the imperial palace, then- 

They’re on Earth. 

No one outside of the royal family and their guards has been allowed to step foot onto the planet since the beginning of the Unification Era, especially after it was declared a Class A nature preserve. 

Jeongguk drinks down the emerald green lawn and the crystal-clear water like a dying man. He’s never going to be allowed back here in his lifetime; Jeongguk might as well enjoy it as much as he can. 

“A lot’s happened since you've been under,” Taehyung says, breaking the stillness of the evening. In the background, jade-carved windchimes click against each other in the slight breeze. 

Jeongguk spares a glance over his shoulder, piques an eyebrow up. “Including…?”

Taehyung does that noncommittal shrug again-- the one that Jeongguk’s quickly coming to realize is a tick, one that tells Jeongguk that Taehyung knows more than he’s letting on. “You’ll find out at dinner,” Taehyung grins cryptically, “And hey, don’t worry about the fact that you’re dressed in hospital clothes. The Empresses aren’t picky.” 

“The Empresses?” Jeongguk barks. He whips around, grips the wheel brakes so hard that they come screeching to an immediate halt. The moment he stops moving, Jeongguk turns around and levels Taehyung with a look that he wishes could kill. “You’re taking me to have dinner with the Empresses . Dressed like this.” 

Taehyung bites back a smirk. He lets his eyes travel up and down Jeongguk’s body, taking in the plain white trousers and shirt that are rumpled and more than a little sweat-soaked. “To be honest, it’s not much worse than your usual outfit, you know.” 

“ Tae hyung,” Jeongguk practically growls, frustration building in his chest. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t care if I just woke up from a coma. They’re my superiors .” 

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Taehyung bats Jeongguk’s hands away from the brakes and resumes transporting him down the hall. “Relax,” he says, “You’re not in the Tactical Force anymore. You’re not under their authority.”

Jeongguk couldn’t keep the disbelieving scoff from leaving his lips even if he wanted to. “They literally rule the Earthside Galaxy. They have authority over everyone .” 

A sigh, long and heavy, makes its way out of Taehyung’s throat. “Fine, fine. Whatever. I was taking you to your room anyway,” he hums loftily, like he didn’t almost give Jeongguk a cardiac episode. 

Jeongguk has one of those moments where he realizes with astonishing clarity that he could, if pressed, murder Taehyung. “What.” 

“I was going to take you to change either way,” Taehyung admits with the barest hint of a snicker. He pushes them a little further down the hall, right up to one of the wooden-carved doors. “You’re just so easy to tease.” 

“I will rip your arms off of your body.” 

Taehyung just snorts and brings them to a halt. “Please. Jimin likes me way too much for you to kill me.” 

For a heartbeat, Jeongguk just sits in the wheelchair, thoroughly confused. He furrows his brow. “What does that mean?” 

“Oh, look, we’re here!” Taehyung misdirects clunkily. 

What does that mean? Jeongguk wants to ask again, because why would Jimin’s opinion influence him at all? Jimin tried to kill him (albeit, possessed Jimin, but still ). Jimin is the last person who Jeongguk should be giving a crap about. 

….right?

“Get up,” Taehyung instructs. He tips the wheelchair forward a few inches, just enough to send Jeongguk stumbling out of the seat. 

He rises shakily on his feet, leaning against the doorframe to keep himself upright. “What was the point of using a wheelchair if you were just going to make me walk?”

Taehyung rebuts smoothly, “What’s the point of having fifteen pockets in your jumpsuit if you don’t use them?” 

“You looked through my things while I was in a coma?” Jeongguk blinks incredulously, because the audacity of Kim Taehyung apparently knows no bounds. 

Remarkably, Taehyung manages to make himself look completely innocent and harmless-- which is a dirty fucking lie . “I have no regrets,” he smiles cheerfully. “You did have a condom, though. That was interesting.” 

“Please get out of here before I commit murder. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.”

Taehyung’s smile only sharpens, turns a bit condescending. He reaches up and pats Jeongguk on the shoulder. “Sure thing, big guy.” Before Jeongguk can heft Taehyung up and punch him through the wall, Taehyung nods towards the door and adds, “I’ll see you in a bit. You should comb your hair. And shave, maybe. Scruffiness isn’t a good look for you.” 

“You fucking-”

“And don’t make things too awkward, okay?” Taehyung adds, a little softer. He looks at Jeongguk meaningfully, like Jeongguk is supposed to be able to magically parse out what Taehyung is talking about. 

Right before Jeongguk can open his mouth, the door swings open. Behind it stands Jimin. He’s got on one of those infuriatingly flowy tunics whose vee dips low enough for Jeongguk to see Jimin’s collarbones, his chest, his-

Jeongguk blinks, forces himself to focus on something else. 

Unfortunately, his eyes find their way right to Jimin’s hips and the silky-looking embroidered trousers that hug his hips like a second skin. There’s a golden chain woven through the loops of the trouser’s upper hem; it matches the gold pieces glimmering on Jimin’s fingers and earlobes. He’s got boots on-- heeled boots-- that look more expensive than anything Jeongguk has ever owned in his life. 

Jimin looks positively fucking ethereal . 

He looks alright, Jeongguk corrects silently, though the words have a bitterness about them. 

“Oh!” Jimin blinks in surprise as he takes in the scene. “Hey. I was just about to come and get you.” 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Taehyung calls, already rushing back down the hall. 

Silence descends, and it’s awkward. Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek and wonders what the best way to apologize for being a dick to a person who’d choked you out is. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, wincing as the movement tugs on his stitches uncomfortably. 

Jimin catches the glimmer of pain that flits across Jeongguk’s face. He blinks, steps back from the doorway. “So- uh- come on in!” Jimin offers with a half-smile, “It’s your room anyway. I don’t know why I’m pretending to be the host here, but- ah- just- yeah. Come in.” 

The fact that Jeongguk has to bite back a smirk at Jimin’s nervous rambling speaks volumes, but Jeongguk blocks his tumultuous feelings out with the ease of a professional. “Thanks,” Jeongguk says under his breath. He brushes past Jimin, pretends he doesn’t catch the whiff of jasmine-honey cologne that clings enticingly to the bare skin of Jimin’s throat, and pushes into the room. 

It becomes entirely apparent to Jeongguk that this isn’t a bedroom. This is an entire palace . 

Two of the walls are open-air, separated from the fading warmth of the surrounding landscape by nothing more than a few thin sheets of gold-spun netting. Crimson curtains frame the open spaces and billow gently in the breeze that exhales into the room. Jeongguk watches as the gold wind chime clinks gently in the corner. 

His eyes stray to the rest of the room-- Jeongguk drinks in the plush red sofas, the embroidered cushions, the creamy white throw blankets strewn across the room. There’s a chestnut-wood table that’s low to the ground; on it sits an antique golden tea set that perfectly matches the threads of silk that decorate the cushions surrounding the table. 

Near the back, there’s an entrance to the bathroom. It’s open, and through it Jeongguk can see a bathtub that’s large enough to officially classify as a small swimming pool. But what catches Jeongguk’s eye the most is the middle of the room. 

The center of the room is sunken. It’s filled with an enormous, red-silk covered mattress that’s long enough that Jeongguk knows someone took his measurements while he was sleeping and had it custom made for him. For him -- an ex-machine gunner nobody with no marketable, non-lethal skills and an attitude problem to boot. 

Jeongguk isn’t touched. 

He’s not .

But his throat tightens up like he is anyway. “Wow,” he manages to breathe into the space. 

“I know,” Jimin hums as he follows Jeongguk back into the room, the door snicking shut behind them. “I think I had a heart attack the first time I saw my room. I’ve never had so much space in my life. I honestly don’t know what to do with myself.”

Jeongguk just nods in agreement. He still traces the outline of the room with his eyes, not quite believing that he’s here . It honest-to-gods feels like he’s dead, because that makes more sense than Jeongguk being on Earth in the Empresses’ palace. 

“Alright, I know that you’re freaking out right now, but we kind of need to hurry up. Being late is definitely the wrong kind of impression to make on the rulers of the Galaxy,” Jimin says. He claps his hands together, heads over to the beautifully carved dresser at the opposite end of the room. 

Jimin rummages through the drawers for a few minutes, stopping only once he’s got his hands on some emerald-green piece of fabric. He turns back around, raises an eyebrow. “...what’re you waiting for?” Jimin harrumphs, “Hustle!” He makes a little ‘come hither’ gesture with his fingers. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I just supposed to strip down in front of you?” Jeongguk asks with a piqued eyebrow of his own. The words come out more teasing than he means them to, but Jeongguk brushes it off. 

Jimin rolls his eyes like Jeongguk is the one being obstinate here. “You need help getting dressed,” Jimin says easily. 

With a scoff, Jeongguk crosses his arms over his chest and rebuffs, “I’ve gotten dressed for the past twenty-five years of my life. I think I’ll survive doing this on my own.” 

“You can barely stand,” Jimin points out with a laugh that’s much too amused for Jeongguk’s liking. “How’re you going to achieve that, exactly?” He walks closer, holds the green shirt out for Jeongguk to take. 

Jeongguk honestly doesn’t know why his blood heats at the clear challenge in Jimin’s tone, but it does. He grabs the hem of his white, rumpled shirt, suddenly determined to make it very clear who’s in charge here. 

“I’m tough. I can-” Jeongguk’s cut off by a wave of pain that ripples up his left side as he tries to tug his shirt off. It’s hot, and intense, and throbbing . Jeongguk forces himself to grit his teeth through the pain. He’s not about to let how much he’s hurting show-- especially if it means that Jimin gets to feel good about being right. 

Unfortunately, Jeongguk’s pained expression says enough on his behalf. “Need some help?” Jimin offers innocently. 

Jeongguk catches the way the corners of Jimin’s mouth tilt up into a barely-there smirk. “No,” Jeongguk grits out. He hitches his shirt a little bit higher, up past his navel, and halfway up his abdomen before he needs to take a break. The searing pain returns and thrums steadily through his body. 

“How ‘bout now?” Jimin offers again. He’s got his hands on his waist and his hip cocked out to the side. 

“ No.” 

Acting like the child that Jeongguk is currently pretending to be, he tugs harder to get the shirt up. It’s a mistake, because his stitches snag so painfully that Jeongguk can’t control the little hiss of pain that pushes past his lips. It’s with a sinking feeling that Jeongguk realizes the tunic isn’t even over his shoulders yet. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You’re going to rip your stitches. Just let me help you, you buffoon,” Jimin harrumphs. He drapes the emerald shirt over his shoulder and snatches the hospital tunic from Jeongguk’s struggling hands. 

“Bend over for me,” Jimin instructs. 

Jeongguk blinks. His throat bobs at the words. 

Jimin seems to realize what he’s said a minute later, because the tips of his ears pink up. Fortunately, he spares both of them from any further embarrassment and focuses on tugging the tunic off of Jeongguk’s bent body. 

There’s just the briefest bit of hesitation as Jimin drops the hospital tunic to the floor. One small, pregnant moment in which Jeongguk is certain that Jimin’s eyes drop down to his chest, his abs, the vee of his hips. Jeongguk swallows hard as something licks up his spine. 

And then it passes, and Jimin tugs the emerald shirt on in one smooth motion. 

“Thanks,” Jeongguk says, wishing that it didn’t sound so gravelly. 

Jimin brings his hands up and pats Jeongguk’s chest awkwardly. “See?” he attempts to laugh, “I’m always right.” And then Jimin starts to lower himself to his knees, right there in front of Jeongguk, like it’s no big deal that he’s about to unbutton Jeongguk’s trousers. 

And yeah-- Jimin’s attractive. Jeongguk has eyes . He’s noticed it before, and he notices it now. Jeongguk is aware of how good Jimin looks as his head bobs down, hands reaching up to loop through the waistband of Jeongguk’s bottoms. His face is red, almost as red as the curtains that sway in the wind, and he can’t meet Jeongguk’s eyes. 

So yeah-- Jimin is attractive. But it doesn’t have to mean anything. The way Jeongguk’s mouth dries up for a moment doesn’t have to mean a single damn thing. 

At least, that’s what Jeongguk tells himself to get through this nightmarish situation. 

“So… why is it you that’s doing this?” Jeongguk asks in an awkward, sudden attempt to break the tension that’s thickening the air in the room. 

Jimin’s shoulders tense. “Oh,” he says breathily, tugging Jeongguk’s pants down to his ankles. He clears his throat, continues, “Everyone else was taking a rest. They’ve been working hard all day.”

“And what about you?” Jeongguk hums, resolutely ignoring the way he feels like a useless piece of trash for a moment. 

“I’ve been working my fair share too. Sleeping is difficult for me, so. I volunteered.” Jimin lifts Jeongguk’s legs one at a time, pulls his trousers off until Jeongguk is standing there in his undergarments. “But hey. That’s life.” 

For the first time, as Jimin nervously darts his eyes up, Jeongguk notices the purple-black bruises that hang below Jimin’s eyes. He can practically see the shadows that haunt Jimin painted across his face. 

It’s you, something in the back of Jeongguk’s head whispers. You’re just like me. 

He ignores it. 

“I see,” Jeongguk mumbles instead. 

Jimin flashes a brief, somewhat-awkward smile and reaches for the other piece of fabric he’d pulled out of the dresser. “Yeah. I still need the light on and everything,” he admits quietly. “When I was… stuck in my head with him, it was just- it was dark. Kind of ruined the nighttime for me, you know? It’s a shame, but. That’s the price you pay for resurrecting a bloodthirsty alchemist, isn’t it?” 

“Ah,” Jeongguk grunts, because what the fuck is he supposed to say to that . Jeongguk watches, assessing Jimin as he tugs the cream-colored trousers up Jeongguk’s legs. Jeongguk looks down at Jimin-- he notices how Jimin’s blush deepens, fingers twitching ever so slightly as he clasps the golden eyelets together around Jeongguk’s hips. 

He must be staring too hard, because in the next moment, Jimin’s flicking his eyes up as well. Jeongguk looks away as fast as he can, but he knows that he’s been caught. It sends his heartbeat kicking up a few notches in his chest, and Jeongguk can feel the beginnings of a flush spreading along his neck. 

He tries to push it down, shove it away , but when Jeongguk dares to steal a glance at Jimin again, all his efforts are thrown clean out the window. 

Jimin has his eyes focused on the column of Jeongguk’s throat. He’s looking at the faded finger-shaped bruises that close around Jeongguk’s trachea, tracing the shape softly with his stare. And he looks so upset-- so fucking sad -- that Jeongguk sort of wants to say ‘screw it’ and cup Jimin’s face in his hands, but he doesn’t. 

“I’m really sorry,” Jimin says in a whisper, almost too quiet to be heard over the noise of the wind. His hand clenches by his side as though he’s forcing himself to not reach up and smooth over Jeongguk’s bobbing throat. 

“It’s not your fault,” Jeongguk reassures. It’s true, because it wasn’t Jimin who did this to him, not really ; but at the same time, it’s Jimin’s face who Jeongguk remembers looking up at as he felt his throat being closed. Something tells him that it’s going to take a while to forget the anger simmering in Jimin’s eyes and the ferocity of his grip. 

Jimin shrugs, despondent. “Still. I felt you thrashing under me, and I just- couldn’t do anything . So. I’m sorry-- I’m really sorry for doing that. For hurting you. You didn’t deserve it.” 

And Jeongguk doesn’t know where the words come from, but he finds himself saying, voice low and soothing, “I’m sorry for not noticing that you were possessed sooner. You didn’t deserve that .” 

“You didn’t know me beforehand,” Jimin says with a shake of his head, though he looks more at ease than before, “You couldn’t have known it was me. I’m just grateful that you noticed at all. It was hell in there.” 

Jimin laughs as he looks up at Jeongguk, and though Jeongguk doesn’t want to, he grins. He wishes it weren’t the case-- Jeongguk hates the fact that he likes the sound of Jimin’s laughter, because he can’t do this. It doesn’t matter that Jimin is gorgeous, or entertaining in an aloof kind of way, or whip-crack smart. 

Jeongguk can’t forget the feeling of Jimin hovering over him and holding him down; he can’t make himself erase the memories, no matter how much he wants to. The irony of the thought strikes him, but it’s true. He wants this whole thing to be uncomplicated. Jeongguk wishes that he hadn’t met Jimin like this, or felt him like that , but he did and he has. And Jeongguk--

Jeongguk’s not sure he’ll ever get over it. 

Even as his eyes stray down to Jimin’s waist. Even as they smooth over the planes of Jimin’s chest, up to his throat, across his cheekbones. 

Even as he notices the slight hitch in Jimin’s breathing at the attention. 

“We should get going,” Jeongguk makes himself say.

The sound dispels some of the haze that clouds Jimin’s vision. “O-oh,” he mumbles, clearing his throat once more. “Right. We absolutely should.”

Neither one of them move. 

Something is building. Jeongguk can feel it. The breath of it ghosts across his skin, raises the hairs on his arms. It seeps into his bones and leeches into his lungs until Jeongguk finds it a little more difficult to breathe when Jimin is blatantly staring at him like this. 

The feeling spreads down to his stomach, up to his throat; it shoots all the way to his fingers until they’re tingling with the urge to just reach up and give in to whatever the fuck this is, regardless of their history. Some primal corner of Jeongguk’s brain is shouting at him to just swoop down, close the distance, and just- 

And just-

Step back, Jeongguk screams at himself. 

He moves back, away from Jimin’s jasmine-honey warmth. 

“We’re going to be late,” Jeongguk says. His voice comes out harsher than he means it to, but it’s enough to pull Jimin out of his stupor. 

“Oh,” he stammers. “Yes. Yes . Fuck. We can’t be late.” Jimin jerks as he takes a step towards the door. He has to pass Jeongguk as he goes, and-

Jeongguk doesn’t know why he does it. 

His hand shoots out without his permission, closing around Jimin’s wrist as he tries to pass. 

Jimin turns. His eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated. The world seems to slow for a moment as Jimin breathes, “What’re you doing?” 

I don’t know, Jeongguk realizes. 

I don’t know . 

What he says is, “I can’t walk on my own. I need… support.” It’s not entirely untrue, but it is also most definitely not the whole truth-- whatever that means. 

Something like relief sinks onto Jimin’s face. “Right,” he exhales, positioning himself so that he’s pressed against Jeongguk’s side with one hand on the small of Jeongguk’s back and the other on his stomach. It’s the best someone of Jimin’s stature can do for someone of Jeongguk’s stature.

It’s not exactly helpful. Jeongguk still has to bear the majority of his own weight, but his own arm is slung around Jimin’s shoulders. He can still feel Jimin’s soft lines and hard angles against his side. 

They leave the room behind, venturing slowly out into the corridor. 

They leave, but the tension in the air lingers. Thickens. Bleeds, until Jeongguk feels like he’s suffocating once more at the hands of Park Jimin. 

Only this time, this time-

Jeongguk can’t say that it’s all bad. 

The alarm bells in Jeongguk’s head are ringing. They’re screaming at him, yelling hoarsely at Jeongguk that this-- walking with Jimin, talking, letting him just a bit closer-- this is dangerous. 

Jeon Jeongguk doesn’t get close to anyone on principle. He doesn’t need one more responsibility, or one more thing to worry about losing when the things in his life inevitably end up crumbling down around him. 

But Jimin walks next to him, chattering away until Jeongguk is so lost in the sound of hearing him speak that he can’t find the room to worry anymore. 

🌖

Jeonnguk’s seen his share of grandeur before. He’s been inside foreign embassies during his tours of service-- he’s seen solid diamond statues mined from the Outer Reaches, he’s gawked in awe at the gold and jewels that drip from the throats of foreign dignitaries, and he’s even met not one, but two literal gods .

And yet, somehow, the Empresses’ palace is on a whole different level of ostentatious. 

He walks with Jimin down the hallway that leads to the dining room. The floor is sleek black marble, and red columns rise towards the ceiling. They support the vibrant green, brilliant blue, and sharp golden tiled ceiling. In the center of the ceiling, there’s a relief carving of three dragons twined around each other that’s made from solid gold. They converge around something that appears to be an alarmingly-large perfectly polished pearl. 

Ahead, there’s an ornately decorated door that towers higher than Jeongguk’s head. 

Jeongguk doesn’t get more than a few heartbeats to feel the sheer awe of the palace before Seokjin’s voice is bouncing off of the walls. 

“Jeongguk!” Seokjin calls from in front of the closed doors. “Wow, it’s good to see you outside of all the bloodied bandages and life-threatening comas.” 

Jeongguk dips his head sheepishly as he looks over Seokjin. The crown prince stands with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung in front of the monstrous doors. All of them are clad in expensive-looking, jewel-toned fabrics that whisper against skin in the light breeze that pushes through the corridor. 

All at once, Jeongguk feels decidedly underdressed. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing an ensemble that probably costs more money than he’ll ever see in his life. The others just look so… put together , and Jeongguk (who’s more at home wearing blood-stained jumpsuits) feels more like he’s a child playing dress-up in his father’s fatigues. 

“Ah, yeah. I- thanks? I think,” Jeongguk says awkwardly. He clears his throat, ignores the little lick of pain it sends through his neck, and forces a semi-smile. “You seem happier.” 

Seokjin offers a casual shrug. He gestures to the walls surrounding them, grins, “I’m home. And you’re not dead. That in itself is cause enough for celebration.”

He looks like he means it-- Seokjin looks like he actually gives a single shit that Jeongguk is still alive. It soothes Jeongguk more than he’s willing to admit. 

Thankfully, Jimin swoops in before Jeongguk has another chance to stumble over his words. “Sorry to break this up, but Jeongguk can’t really be on his feet for too long,” Jimin says, voice a little pinched and breathless. Jimin leans against Jeongguk to keep him upright. Desperately, Jimin nods towards the dining room’s entrance. “Should we go?” 

Jeongguk feels a wave of guilt ricochet through him. Jimin’s doing a marvelous job at attempting to support all two-hundred-and-thirty pounds of Jeongguk. As subtly as he can, Jeongguk shifts some of his weight off of Jimin and firmly ignores the way his side twinges in protest. 

“Not quite,” Seokjin stops them with a raised finger. “There are a few things that you should probably know before you go in there.” 

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. “I thought that the whole point of this dinner was to catch me up to speed. You’re prepping me to be prepped?” Jimin lets out what’s either a huff of laughter or a puff of exhaustion. 

“A lot’s happened, Jeongguk,” Namjoon interjects. He tilts his head, arms crossed over his chest. For once, Namjoon actually looks his age-- with his hair slicked back and a set of properly-tailored clothing, he actually resembles someone who’s old enough to have had a child. It’s strange. 

Jeongguk fires back, “So everyone keeps telling me. But no one ever says what exactly happened.” He frowns impatiently, eyes flickering towards the wooden double-doors. Something about standing out here talking and keeping the Empresses waiting doesn’t sit right in Jeongguk’s stomach. 

But no one else seems to care. Especially not Yoongi, who examines his fingernails carefully with his blood red eyes and explains, “We found the star chart that matches the tattoo on your neck.” 

That catches Jeongguk’s attention. “You did?” he blinks in surprise, turns to look down at Jimin. “Why didn’t you say anything?” A lick of irritation twinges in his chest, because this isn’t the kind of information to keep quiet. 

Jimin meets his eyes. He winces sympathetically. “Because I knew you’d have a lot of questions that I didn’t think I’d be able to answer on my own. It’s… complicated.” 

“So?” Jeongguk yanks his stare away from the barely-there guilt masking Jimin’s features. He skips his eyes between the others and asks, “Where does it lead? Have you looked into where I got the tattoo? Are we-”

“The chart leads to a planet tucked into the outskirts of the Inner Reaches,” Namjoon deftly cuts him off, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “It’s, uhm. It’s a newly acquired planet. Delta-thirty-two.” He cuts a glance to Seokjin that Jeongguk doesn’t miss. 

“Newly acquired?” Jeongguk echoes uselessly. 

With a tired sigh and a lofty wave of his hand, Seokjin explains, “It was a business venture by my mothers this past spring. A planet for me to practice governing at the year’s end. Needless to say, present circumstances have made it so that I might be forced to take control sooner than expected.” 

Jeongguk blinks, lost. “Year’s end?” 

Taehyung snickers under his breath at Jeongguk’s aloofness from where he’s leaned up against the door. Jeongguk sends him a cutting glare. 

“The planet functions as a training site for the Empresses’ private artillery and air force,” Yoongi talks over the sound of Taehyung’s tittering, “And the Tactical units, apparently.” 

The world around Jeongguk seems to tilt under the weight of the information. That, or the fact that Jeongguk has only recently woken up from a life-threatening impalement and coma. Either way, Jeongguk feels like his brain is buzzing. 

“A training planet? Why the fuck do I have a tattoo of a map to a training planet on the back of my neck?” he frowns, brows furrowing from confusion. “And wait- hold on- if it’s a recently-acquired planet, how have I had a tattoo of the star chart on my neck for the last five years?” 

Taehyung pushes off of the door. “That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out. I mean, there aren’t even any recruits training on the planet yet. It’s literally an empty planet still under construction,” Taehyung says. “The timelines don’t match at all. There’s no way that you should have a tattoo of the star chart.” 

“I-” Jeongguk tries to interject to rattle off the hundreds of questions that rest on the tip of his tongue. 

“There’s more,” Seokjin interrupts. He waits until Jeongguk’s jaw clicks shut and then adds carefully, “...We’ve also been digging through the Imperial Birth Records to try and figure out where exactly you came from.” 

For a moment, silence descends as Jeongguk feels his heart stop for a moment in his chest. 

And then Jeongguk is standing upright, furious . He draws himself to his full height, glowers down at the other men. “You what?” he grits out. “You’ve been digging into my past and you just, what, forgot to tell me?”

Yoongi’s lips pull into an unimpressed line. “Easy there, big guy. You were in a coma . Were we supposed to whisper into your ear and hope for the best?” he snarks easily. “We did the best we could.” 

He’s right; Yoongi’s right , and Jeongguk knows it, but that doesn’t stop the whole thing from feeling more than a little invasive. They hadn’t even waited for Jeongguk to wake up to start figuring out who he is, which is a process that Jeongguk himself would’ve liked to be a part of. 

It hurts a bit, but Jeongguk swallows it down on his next inhale. “I know, I just- I’m surprised. I didn’t think that you’d start so soon,” Jeongguk forces himself to concede, “And I didn’t really think that I’d-”

Jeongguk breaks off, unwilling to finish voicing the thought that pings hopelessly around his consciousness day in and day out. 

‘I didn’t really think that I’d ever get to figure out who I am.’

“So. Did you find anything?” Jeongguk corrects clunkily. He doesn’t miss how Jimin’s fingers press soothingly into the small of his back at the slight hitch in his voice.

Namjoon looks up towards the dragons on the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “That’s the thing. There’s nothing.” 

Once again, Jeongguk finds himself parroting numbly. “Nothing?” 

“No.” It’s Jimin who speaks softly, quickly. “Not a birth record, not a name registered to you. The first and only mention of you is the date you were inaugurated into the Tactical Force. Other than that, it’s like you never-” He breaks off, but Jeongguk hears the rest of the phrase anyway. 

‘It’s like you never existed.’

Something cold and ugly sinks into Jeongguk’s stomach. Jeongguk takes a deep breath, and it shudders through him as he presses, “But- how is that possible? I had to come from somewhere, right? I mean- someone has to be looking for me. There has to be someone out there trying to find me.” 

Jeongguk looks at the others, but none of them meet his eyes. Something fizzles out in Jeongguk’s chest as the others stay quiet. He knows what the silence means. It means that out of the trillions upon trillions of beings in the Galaxy, the hundreds of thousands of planets, the countless families-- not a single soul is looking for Jeongguk. 

“Right?” Jeongguk’s whisper echoes in the room. 

“I’m sure someone is,” Jimin jumps in immediately. Something like pity hangs in his voice. “Just because your name isn’t registered into the database doesn’t mean that you don’t have a past. It just might mean that you’re not exactly who you think you are.” 

The reassurance is weak and half-assed, but Jeongguk clings to it like a life raft. It’s better than the alternative. So Jeongguk forces the ache in his chest down and asks tiredly, “So I might not be ‘Jeon Jeongguk’, huh?” A bitter laugh pulls past his lips-- because up until now, his name was the only thing he was certain of. 

It was right there on the golden dog tags-- the ones that still hang on the post of Jeongguk’s hospital bed. For so long, those stupid fucking pieces of metal were like a lifeline, holding his past and present carefully together with three simple syllables. 

And if that’s a lie too-

If that’s a lie-

Jeongguk shakes his head hard. He can’t think about this now-- not when he’s supposed to be getting ready to meet the two most powerful women in the universe. 

Fortunately, Namjoon seems to pick up on his turmoil. “Look, I know it’s a lot, but we’re working on figuring out who you are, okay?” he comforts, taking a step forward to reach up and clap Jeongguk on the shoulder. “We’ll do some blood tests, maybe sequence your genome until we find a match. We’re here to help, alright?” 

Jeongguk swallows hard as five other sets of eyes land on him. “Okay. Right, yes. That sounds good,” he forces out. And in an attempt to focus on something-- anything else other than the fact that he might not be the person he’s always thought he was-- Jeongguk redirects, “So… what about the Necro- err, Alchemist? Any progress there?” 

“We have,” Jimin replies immediately, worry apparent in the way he stumbles over his words. “It’s a little-”

The rest of what he means to say is cut off by the sound of the heavy wooden doors being slammed open hard enough to rattle the adjacent hallway walls. 

Jeongguk nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound, his hands instinctively reaching down towards where his thigh holsters would usually rest. His heart clenches in his chest as he struggles to calm his heart enough to come to terms with the fact that his first fear response is to shoot at it. 

As the adrenaline fades, Jeongguk focuses on the woman who stands in the doorway. She’s got her hands on her hips, one hip cocked out to the side. Her hair is wildly curly and cut into a short, bouncy bob that dips down just below her jawline. The sharp blue of her eyes matches the navy-silk dress that hugs her curves. 

She’s short-- shorter than average, even for a Human-- but there’s enough muscle packed onto her biceps and enough scars littering her face and hands to let Jeongguk know that this woman has seen combat before. 

“What in gods’ names are you doing out here, honey?” the woman says with the slightest of lisps. Jeongguk notices as she speaks that there’s a small gap between her teeth. He watches as the woman shakes her bangs out of her face and nods towards the dining hall. “The food’s going to get cold, and-- no offense-- but your AI friend has long since run out of things to talk about.”

And Jeongguk nearly chokes as he realizes that, though this woman looks nothing like Seokjin, she’s undoubtedly one of the Empresses. 

“The ‘AI’ has a name,” Yoongi grouses under his breath. He crosses his arms defensively and glares daggers at the Empress framed by the doorway. There’s enough resentment clouding Yoongi’s brow to indicate that the deep-seated anger that sparked the first revolution hasn’t quite run dry yet. 

Seokjin swoops in smoothly before the atmosphere can descend into tense silence. “Sorry, Jeongguk. This is my mother,” Seokjin cuts in diplomatically. He wrinkles his nose. “Err- one of them, I mean.” 

The Empress’ eyes flick over to the new face in the crowd. They settle on Jeongguk and sweep him from toe to tip, seemingly drinking in every little detail. The Empress comes forward, sticks out her hand jovially and introduces, “Esmerelda D’Urbano. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jeongguk.” 

“I- uh-” Jeongguk stammers eloquently. He takes her hand and tries to sink down into a bow, but the pain in his side and Jimin’s deterrent warning sounds keep him from finishing the movement. 

Surprisingly, Esmerelda only laughs. “Please, please,” she says as she pulls her hand back to wave it about, “I won’t have any stuffy introductions in my dining room. Not when my son’s spoken so highly of you.” 

Jeongguk opens his mouth, meaning to say something polite in return, but the Empress moves with the force of a hurricane. One moment, all of them are standing outside of the giant wooden doors. In the next, Esmerelda is ushering them into the dark-wood dining room so fast that Jeongguk’s head spins. 

He can barely keep up as the Empress whirls around and shuts the doors. She seems to be everywhere at once-- helping the others find their seats, pulling out chairs, clicking her fingers to summon a fleet of waiters of various species into the living room. 

All of a sudden, Jeongguk is seated with Jimin across from him, and there’s a Vampyre filling his glass with red wine. He blinks, stunned by the efficiency. 

“So, I’ve heard that you’ve done quite a bit of service for our Tactical Force. Is that right?” the Empress smiles congenially. Not a single hair is out of place. She raises her glass to her lips with the grace of- well. Royalty . 

Jeongguk swallows, throat suddenly dry as some kind of soup is spooned into the porcelain dish in front of him. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he says after a moment. “Three tours as a machine gunner. I-”

“Hello, friend!” a vaguely-familiar voice chirps from Jimin’s left on the other side of the table. All eyes turn towards the source of the interruption. 

It’s the H.O.P.E. AI from Yoongi’s ship. He looks different-- his hair is freshly dyed brown, and he’s wearing clothes this time. The smile that the AI offers Jeongguk is near-blinding. “It is nice to see you alive!” the AI enthuses. “I am Jung Hoseok, formerly known as your Heuristic Operational Personal-”

From Hoseok’s other side, Yoongi leans in. He places a hand gently onto the top of Hoseok’s. Jeongguk sees the sadness shimmering in Yoongi’s eyes as he mutters quietly, “That’s enough, Hobi. Remember what we talked about? Memorizing social cues.” 

Hoseok makes a strange kind of whirring noise. His pupils expand and contract as he tilts his head to the side. 

“Creepy,” Taehyung hisses from Jeongguk’s right. 

“Oh! I apologize,” Hoseok declares a heartbeat later, apparently having read the room to the best of his ability. He taps his temple. “My Social-Emotional Chip has suffered quite a lot of damage.” He smiles eerily. 

Spoons clink on dishes as everyone takes an awkward sip of the first course. Jeongguk bites his lip at the bone-chilling smile Hoseok still has plastered on his face. 

“Taehyung’s been working on fixing his sentience,” Jimin fills in quietly. 

Taehyung nods, blue eye whirring as it scans Hoseok’s form. “It’s slow-going, but he has the beginnings of a personality now, at least.” 

“I see,” Jeongguk allows, though the look on Hoseok’s face is dipping a little too deep into uncanny valley for his liking. 

Esmerelda’s snort breaks the discomfort clouding the atmosphere. “Too much personality, if you ask me,” she chortles from the head of the polished-wood table. “He keeps asking me if I’d like to know another fact about life from around the Galaxy.”

“Wait-” Yoongi tries to warn, but Hoseok is already talking. 

Hoseok’s eyes light up as he sits straighter, one finger raised and pointed towards the high-vaulted ceiling as he chatters. “A fact! Here is one: Earth-side penguins have a special kind of eye that allows them to see both in and outside of water with astonishing clarity.” He finishes talking, folds his hands onto the table, and turns to offer a pleased smile at Yoongi. 

The corners of Yoongi’s mouth tilt up into the beginnings of a grin. “Thank you, Hoseok,” Yoongi says with more warmth than Jeongguk’s ever heard him use before. “That’s lovely.” 

It clicks for Jeongguk that there’s something going on between the two of them-- something that feels weird to watch. Jeongguk pries his attention away from the way Yoongi speaks softly to the AI, focuses on Seokjin just in time to hear him ask, “Hey, Mom. Where’s Eomma? I thought her campaign was supposed to be finished by now.” 

Esmerelda puts down her spoon. Immediately, the waiters swoop forward and clear all of the first course dishes off of the table regardless of the fact that Jeongguk hadn’t taken a single spoonful yet. He watches his soup bowl get whisked away sadly, thinks he sees Jimin stifle a laugh in his fist from across the table. 

“She got caught up in the Outer Reaches dealing with some new uprisings,” the Empress frowns. She drums her fingers against the table and speaks loud enough to be heard over the sound of the wind whistling through the open windows. “The fact that worlds have been… ending recently hasn’t exactly escaped the notice of our people. And since the attacks are clustered in the Outer Reaches, there seems to be a general feeling that the crown is somehow behind the attacks.” 

The Empress raises her wine glass delicately and takes a pull long enough to stain her lips blood red. Her blue eyes shine vibrantly under the lights as she adds, “So she’s away. On diplomacy.” 

“Putting down the revolution, more like,” Yoongi seethes from the other end of the table. The remark is enough to have Esmerelda’s eyes flashing with something dark and irritated. 

But before she opens her mouth, Namjoon interjects, “The important thing is that no one else seems to be aware that it’s an Alchemist causing the destruction.” 

“That’s a good thing?” Jeongguk finds himself exclaiming in disbelief before he can stop himself. “Shouldn’t we be spreading awareness? Warning people? Or, just- doing something?”

Yoongi nods, hand clenched around his fork. “That’s what I said.” 

Once more, the Empress’ eyes cut over to Yoongi alarmingly fast. “We are doing something,” she starts with a growl. And then Esmerelda takes a moment, inhales deeply, and starts again. 

“We are doing something. Just… privately. These things take skillful maneuvering. While we try to assess who Jimin summoned and where he came from, we have to do some damage control. Soothe the masses and whatnot.” The Empress gives Jeongguk a meaningful look. “I’m sure we all want to avoid another rebellion.”

She raises an eyebrow, like she knows what Jeongguk has been through and who he is at heart. It sends a shudder down Jeongguk’s spine, because he’s se-

Something brushes his ankle under the table. 

Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat. He flicks his eyes over to Jimin, but Jimin is looking back at the Empress calmly. “But at we least made some progress with the whole ‘research’ thing, you know?” 

His voice is level, serene even. Like he’s not currently brushing his foot along Jeongguk’s ankle. And really, Jeongguk should be just as unaffected-- but for some reason, the small show of comfort on Jimin’s part is doing things to Jeongguk that he’d never in a million years admit to. 

Physical attraction is one thing, but this-

This is a whole different kind of danger. One that Jeongguk certainly isn’t ready to deal with. Not so soon after… everything that’s happened. 

So Jeongguk draws his legs back towards his seat, away from Jimin, ignoring the way Jimin’s stare shoots over to him for a heartbeat. 

But then Namjoon is talking, and Jimin looks away. 

“I’ve been working with Yoongi and some Alchemic experts here to nail down who it is that you summoned, Jimin,” Namjoon says, nodding in thanks to the Other waiter who dips over his shoulder to place some sort of fish course in front of him. “And it’s not exactly good news, but Yoongi was right about him being a Necromancer. And a blood magic user.” 

Jimin’s face pales. He clenches the little deboning fork in his hand a bit tighter. Jimin worries his lips into a thin line before he lets out a breath and shudders, “As if Necromancy on its own wasn’t bad enough.”

“And blood magic is bad because…?” Taehyung asks as he picks at the seafood in front of him. Jeongguk is eternally grateful to him, because he also has no clue about what’s happening with this whole ‘magic-wielding maniac’ situation. 

Jimin bites his lip as he fidgets in his seat. “It’s stronger than regular magic,” he says, “It takes something from you.”

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side. “As in… blood?” 

Yoongi makes what’s very possibly an amused snort, but he hides it too well for Jeongguk to tell for certain. “As in the user’s conscience. Their soul. Blood magic eats the user alive until they’re basically nothing more than a blunt little instrument for the magic itself.” 

“So, essentially, you’re saying that we’ve got a psychopathic Alchemist out there-- who could be in anybody’s body right now, mind you-- running around trying to destroy worlds?” Jeongguk summarizes.

Silence, heavy and dark, descends over the dining room. Even the waiters who stand against the walls look faintly sick. Jeongguk wonders fleetingly what will happen to them after this. There’s no way they’ll just be allowed to walk out of here after listening in on such important discussions. He pushes the thought away, unwilling to consider the alternative. 

Seokjin coughs uncomfortably. “Pretty much.” 

“Great. Great,” Jeongguk breathes. He stares down at the fish on his plate; it stares back up at him with it’s glassy, dead eye. “But why?” 

Jimin sighs. “That’s where it gets tricky. When he was in my head, I heard things.” He breaks off, voice thick and eyes unfocused at the trauma of remembering being a vessel for someone else’s mind. “He- uh. The Necromancer wants to raise an army of the dead.” 

Oh, wow, Jeongguk thinks, or maybe says aloud if the way Taehyung lets out a choked-off chuckle is any indication. 

“We think that that’s why he’s destroying whole worlds, actually,” the Empress says. Jeongguk starts, because he’d honest-to-gods almost forgotten that she was present. 

Esmerelda leans back in her chair casually and runs her tongue over her teeth. The entire fish is gone from her plate; all that remains of the creature is a pile of neatly-stacked, delicate bones. Jeongguk hadn't noticed her eating. He hadn’t even heard the ‘clink’ of silverware on china. 

The Empress moves with a deadly silence that makes Jeongguk’s spine straighten automatically. “We think he’s collecting souls to use to raise his army. Keeping them until he’s found bodies for them all to inhabit, and then-- who knows-- maybe he’s going to try to take over the Galaxy or something,” she says easily, nose wrinkling in annoyance. “It’s all very distasteful if you ask me.” 

It’s a severe understatement, but Namjoon jumps back in before Jeongguk has the chance to choke. “Our one advantage is that he needs a body strong enough to cast the kind of summoning magic that he needs to raise an entire army,” Namjoon says with a glance at Jimin. “Jimin was his last vessel, and there aren’t that many other Alchemists that have Jimin’s… skillset.” 

“Your skillset?” Jeongguk repeats. He wonders briefly why no one in this group ever just explains anything all at once. Being left in the dark, shrouded in half-truths and vague warnings is really starting to get on his nerves. 

“I specialize in summoning,” Jimin tells him, “And the study of the undead.” A flush drains the color out of Jimin’s cheeks like he can anticipate Jeongguk’s reaction. 

True to form, Jeongguk chokes on his spit. It takes a minute of unflatteringly loud coughing before Jeongguk croaks out in disbelief, “You mean-- you’re a Necromancer too?!” 

Jimin shakes his head hard and fast. “No! I’ve never- no,” he rushes to explain, “I help the undead move on. I release souls and break Demonic contracts. I’d never- I’d never purposefully do something like- like accidentally summoning a dead Alchemist strong enough to destroy the entire Galaxy. This is a fluke. A one-off. I mess up, but I-”

“We get it, darling,” Taehyung cuts off Jimin’s rant mid-sentence. “We know. You’re not an awful person.” 

Jimin visibly deflates under the reassurance, but Jeongguk can’t help but notice the way Jimin keeps sending pointed looks in his direction like he’s checking to make sure that Jeongguk understands that he’s not a monster. 

For a moment, Jeongguk considers smiling comfortingly, or knocking his foot against Jimin’s under the table like Jimin did to him earlier, but he takes too long trying to figure out what the appropriate way to assure someone who choked-and-kissed him is. The moment passes in a heartbeat, and Jeongguk watches it flit away helplessly. 

“All we can do at this point is wait for the Alchemist to make himself known. Maybe pay a visit to the training planet in the interim,” Esmerelda mumbles, “But other than that, it’s just a waiting game at this point.” She flicks her fingers, and there’s a waiter at her side in a second to refill her glass. 

Jeongguk stares at his own untouched glass, feeling sick to his stomach-- because there’s something seriously wrong if the fate of the universe is reduced to a waiting game . That familiar kind of fear starts to climb up his throat again; the weight of responsibility weighs on his shoulders and drags him further and further down until Jeongguk is certain that his back is going to snap under the pressure. 

Around him, waiters move noiselessly through the wood-paneled room filling glasses and whisking plates away. In the background, Jeongguk faintly hears the sound of Seokjin and his mother discussing some kind of ‘welcome back’ festival for the other Empress, but he doesn’t really hear any of it. 

Jeongguk doesn’t even notice that he’s sitting frozen until something touches his ankle again. It’s more hesitant this time, but it gets Jeongguk’s attention nonetheless. He pulls his gaze from the polished surface of the table and looks at Jimin. 

Jimin stares right back. There are about a thousand questions swimming in his honeyed eyes, but Jeongguk only really hears one of them. 

Are you alright?

Jeongguk’s throat bobs as he swallows. No, he wants to say, because he isn’t. None of this is alright-- not the Necromancer, or the fact that he might not even be Jeon Jeongguk, or the fact that there are two planets and billions of lives already lost because of something that he’s a part of. 

None of it is alright, so Jeongguk looks away from the tentative smile pulling on the corners of Jimin’s lips. 

He looks away, up and out the window behind Jimin’s head, into the night beyond. 

In the distance, the Moon shines down on them. It’s silver and beautiful and patient, and yet- in the back of his head, Jeongguk can’t help but wonder how much longer he has to enjoy it. 

Because like the Empress said-- it’s a waiting game at this point. Waiting for the world to end, for the dead to rise, for Jeongguk to figure out who he is. 

And yet, with the silver light bathing everything so calmly, Jeongguk feels just the tiniest bit at ease. It’s not over yet. Not so long as his crewmates are safe, tucked away on Earth, and certainly not with the Moon watching over them protecti-

“It’s drafty,” the Empress complains, and the window to the Moon gets shut with a deafening ‘snick’.

Chapter Text

Around Jeongguk, the forest breathes. 

A light breeze ruffles the green-gold foliage that gleams in the early morning light. The scent of eucalyptus seeps into the clearing that Jeongguk stands in. Underfoot, there are small white and yellow daisies sprinkling the grassy floor; they line the thick perimeter of trees that encloses the clearing. 

For a moment, Jeongguk closes his eyes and breathes . He doesn’t remember the last time he felt underfoot. Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s actually ever seen a tree in real life before-- not since natural wood became a rare commodity. Everything else in the Galaxy is synthetic. Synthetic paper, manufactured water, printed roses. 

True life spots the Galaxy intermittently and never anywhere as gracefully as Earth. 

So Jeongguk tilts his head back to greet the rising sun and lets the warmth of the light wash over him from head to toe. It’s almost peaceful to hear the leaves murmur to one another-- to feel like he’s actually a part of something greater than himself. 

But there’s a gun in his hand, so maybe it isn’t so peaceful after all. 

Jeongguk opens his eyes with a sigh. He takes a look down at Lethe in his left hand. It rests in his palm, heavy and golden and loaded with six bullets fierce enough to kill. 

This is stupid, a small voice in the back of Jeongguk’s head tries to convince him, but Jeongguk shakes it away. After all, Jeongguk is out here for a reason. 

The others are practically killing themselves trying to do research on the Alchemist, or practicing spellcasting in preparation for their next encounter with the Necromancer, or (in Seokjin’s case) participating in governing the Earthside universe. 

And Jeongguk just lies there in bed. ‘Recovering’, the others call it. Jeongguk prefers to think of it as ‘being a useless lump taking up needless space’. 

So he’d snuck out of his bedroom through a window, darted across the perfectly-manicured lawn, and taken refuge in the forest surrounding the palace. He’s probably not supposed to be out here-- scratch that; he’s definitely not supposed to be out here-- but it’s the only place where he has the possibility of doing some target practice without having to answer a million questions or explain the sound of gunshots so early in the morning. 

Across the clearing, several small coin purses dangle from tree branches. They’re filled with stones and hang at various lengths-- perfect for shooting.  

“Come on,” Jeongguk quietly coaches himself. He raises his gun, aims it at the blood red purse furthest to the left. “You’ve done it before.” 

The moment Jeongguk places his index finger on the trigger, he freezes. Images flash past his eyes-- cracked skulls, and spilled blood, and tearful faces begging for mercy. 

He shakes his head, steels himself more. “Come on,” Jeongguk urges again. The wind whistles around him. It cards through his hair, pushes his bangs back off of his sweat-slicked forehead. “Come on.” 

The heft of the gun in his hand is familiar. Jeongguk tries not to think about all the times he’s held it just like this, barrel pointed at a living being. He focuses on the coin purse and concentrates on not letting his mind replace the swinging bag of rocks with a face. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. “Okay. On three,” he agrees with himself, squinting as he takes aim. 

“One.” 

The purse sways in the wind. The rocks inside click against one another and chatter with movement. 

“Two.”

Inhale, exhale, Jeongguk reminds himself. Keep your focus. It’s not a person. It’s not a person. 

“Thr-”

A rustle comes from the bushes; a cheerful voice exclaims, “Jeongguk? Is that-”

The sudden sound makes Jeongguk jolt. His left finger squeezes the trigger right as Jimin appears from the bushes. The bushes right next to the target. 

No- Jeongguk thinks in horror as the bullet speeds through the air, advancing closer and closer to Jimin’s surprised face as the explosive pulse booms through the calm of the clearing. 

Time slows for a minute, and in it Jeongguk sees Jimin lying on the floor in a pool of his blood, a stray bullet between his eyes. He sees Jimin’s fate at his feet, decided in an instant because Jeongguk was too fucking careless to-

The bullet thumps successfully into the coin purse inches from the top of Jimin’s head. 

Time sucks back in on itself.

“Oh, holy fuck!” Jimin screeches, hitting the floor a heartbeat too late. He has his arms pulled over his head protectively and shoots Jeongguk a look incredulous enough to make Jeongguk wither under the intensity. 

Jeongguk rushes over, embarrassment building hot in his gut as Jimin looks up at the destroyed coin purse. “Wow,” Jimin breathes. “You almost blew my fucking head off!” 

“What?” Jeongguk says defensively, even as he knows that he should probably be apologizing. “How is this my fault? You’re the one who called out to me.” He reaches down, grabs Jimin by the elbow, hefts him to his feet. 

Jimin squawks. He checks himself up and down like he’s making sure he’s all in one piece and then smacks Jeongguk across the chest. “Yeah, but I didn’t know you had a fucking gun in your hand.” 

There’s a pout on Jimin’s lips. His face is flushed pale from adrenaline, and his hair is mussed from the sudden movement. Jimin looks up at Jeongguk, barefaced and put-out, and Jeongguk has the traitorous, horrible thought that-

Jimin is gorgeous. 

“You should’ve checked,” Jeongguk finds himself arguing twice as passionately as before, like being petulant about nearly shooting Jimin in the face is going to make up for the fact that he’s thinking about Jimin like this . “What’re you doing out of the palace at all? I thought you were going to be working all day.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen even further. He splutters over his words. “I was trying to relax . And I almost got killed for it,” he seethes, nose scrunching in displeasure. Jimin cocks his hip out to the side and pokes Jeongguk in the chest meaningfully. “I suppose that I’m supposed to anticipate that I’m going to nearly die whenever I’m around you by now, huh? I should start casting protective charms around myself. You are bad news , sir.” 

The words are teasing, but something about them makes Jeongguk shrink. But like the professional he is, Jeongguk masks the little hurt with a scoff. “ I’m bad news? You’re the one who’s constantly putting me in danger.” 

“You’re seven feet tall and made of muscle,” Jimin harrumphs, not at all phased by Jeongguk’s insinuation, “You’ll survive.” He gestures to himself-- his flowing sapphire tunic and silken trousers-- and pouts, “I, on the other hand, am delicate as hell .”

Jeongguk laughs, and he means it this time. “Delicate is not a word I would use to describe you in the slightest. You smash your way through life.” For a moment, Jeongguk is actually astounded by the ease in the air. 

The frown on Jimin’s lips twitches like he’s trying to rein in a smile. “Whatever,” Jimin huffs, though the hint of rose dusting his cheeks gives him away. He looks around the clearing and then down at the six-shooter in Jeongguk’s palm. “What’re you doing out here? I thought you didn’t use your guns.” 

Jeongguk glances down at Lethe. The sight of it makes something ugly curl in his stomach, so Jeongguk twirls the weapon neatly and places it back in its holster. “I don’t,” he sighs. “I just thought that- I don’t know. I’d like to be useful for once, I guess.”

Shut the hell up, the self-preservation voice in Jeongguk’s head shrieks in warning. Stop! Talking!

But it’s too late. Jimin’s eyebrows pull up towards his hairline. “For once?” he snorts in disbelief. “You saved Tae’s life back on Earane; you saved all of our lives by getting in the gunner capsule. You’ve done enough.” 

The wind licks through the clearing and ruffles Jimin’s hair. Jeongguk tries and fails not to watch the movement. He smiles weakly, shrugs off the compliment. “Whatever you say.” 

“Oh, come on,” Jimin laughs. He punches Jeongguk in the arm jovially like he’s waiting for Jeongguk to say he’s kidding. When Jeongguk stands still, eyes unfocused as he looks off into the trees, Jimin’s face falls a little. “Wait. Really? You can’t really be dense enough that you don’t see how much of an asset to the team you are.” 

They’re drifting into dangerous territory. Jeongguk feels it-- he feels the tightrope he’s currently balancing on. And with the breeze still moving through the trees, Jeongguk has the sinking feeling that he’s about to be pushed over onto the wrong side of the line. 

So Jeongguk just lets out a noncommittal hum and turns on his heel. He heads for the edge of the clearing to the path he took earlier. 

The sound of footsteps on the mossy ground tell him that Jimin is following. “Wow. We’ve got some serious work to do on your self-esteem,” Jimin says with a low whistle. He hops over a fallen branch, bounds to catch up to Jeongguk.

“What work? Is this going to be another one of those ‘let me teach you how to be a Human being’ conversations?” Jeongguk groans dramatically. He doesn’t really mean it, but there must be something in the air today, because the taunts and barbs just flow easily off of his tongue in Jimin’s presence. 

Maybe it’s because of last night at the dinner with the Empress. All the little looks, the seemingly insignificant brushes of feet under the table. Maybe it’s because of that time in Jeongguk’s room when Jeongguk almost let himself go. Or maybe it’s because of Jimin’s laughter, light and melodic as it bounces through the treeline. 

Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Jeongguk shouldn’t be this at ease with him. Not after all they’ve been through. 

But then Jimin is saying in awe, “You remember those?” And he sounds so genuinely surprised that Jeongguk bothered to remember anything about him that Jeongguk finds himself not caring about the fact that he’s treading dangerous waters right now. 

“Of course I remember those,” Jeongguk admits. He casts a look down at Jimin surreptitiously, notices the small grin that ticks up one corner of his lips. “They were the worst. Why’re you so surprised?” 

Jimin shrugs as he skips over a wayward stone. “Because that was me talking to you. And- I don’t know. I just didn’t think you’d remember that.” He laughs, voice full of nerves. 

“Well, I do,” Jeongguk tells him, and then asks, “So… how often were you in control of your body? Because it doesn’t sound like you were always out of control.”

Just like that, Jimin’s grin falls. Jeongguk winces internally at the fact that he’s once again screwed up the easy atmosphere between them, but Jimin just clears his throat and says, “It’s complicated.” 

Jeongguk should let the issue drop. He should, because this whole thing would be so much more easy on both of them if they knew as little as possible about each other. He should hum uninterestedly, leave the forest, and avoid Jimin as often as he can for the remainder of his stay. 

That’s what Jeongguk should do. 

What he does is open his mouth and challenge: 

“Try me.” 

Jimin lets out an amused puff of air. “Well-” he starts, and trips over his feet. Jeongguk’s hand shoots out instantly to steady him. Jimin shoots him a grateful (if embarrassed) look and tries again. “It’s sort of like… well. Do you know how it feels to wake up in the middle of a dream?”

“Like lucid dreaming?” Jeongguk hums. He ducks under a swarm of branches and curses. Being seven-feet tall in a forest is definitely a disadvantage. 

Jimin nods. “Kind of. Except the kind where you know you’re dreaming and the world is passing you by, but you can’t really do anything about it. That was how I felt most of the time.” As he walks, Jimin kicks at the dirt as he remembers. “But sometimes, the Necromancer inside of me needed a break. It’s exhausting to cast possession spells constantly. So sometimes, when he’d fade into the background, I’d have these moments where I was able to get a few words in.” 

It clicks in Jeongguk’s head. All the times he’d felt like Jimin was giving him whiplash suddenly make sense. “Like that night on the deck of the ship,” Jeongguk supplies helpfully. 

“Yeah. Like that. Or-” Jimin pauses, takes a breath as his expression darkens. “Do you remember when we were on Xeada? In the underground market?”

A shudder wracks its way up Jeongguk’s spine. He can picture the dead bodies in his mind’s eye, but settles on a quiet, “I do.” 

“I was in control then. Whenever he… destroyed worlds, he had to cast a different spell. It’s like trying to balance two spinning plates at once, except the plates are on fire and if you drop them the world ends,” Jimin chatters absently. “And that first time on Xeada wasn’t even him at full power. He was projecting his consciousness outside of my body without leaving it. Which is why he was so much more powerful on Earane, and I just. Fuck . I don’t know, I-”

Jeongguk interrupts Jimin’s clear downward spiral. “Jimin,” he butts in. “Breathe.” 

It’s silent for a moment as Jimin slows to a halt. He stops at the base of one of the willow trees that spills its leaves down to the ground. Jimin inhales deeply, anxiety clouding his eyes as the shadows of the past return in full-force. 

After a handful of seconds in which Jeongguk struggles to not reach out and put his hand on Jimin’s shoulder, Jeongguk asks carefully, “Why didn’t you tell us you were possessed when you were in control?” 

Jimin closes his eyes, leans back against the bark of the tree, and lets his head thump against the wood. “I couldn’t say anything. It was a low-level silencing spell. A gag order, if you will. I just- was physically incapable of telling you until he left my body. The only time he was completely silent was at the casino when that goddess-lady cast a spell on the crowd. It silenced the consciousnesses of everyone in the crowd, but since I technically had two minds in here, it was just me in there for a while.” 

“Oh.” It’s all Jeongguk can think to say. He fidgets, looks down at Jimin as the tension thickens. Jeongguk clears his throat. “This is fucking crazy,” Jeongguk tries a moment later.

To his relief, the honesty brings an amused tilt to Jimin’s lips. He cracks open his eyes and sighs again. “You’re telling me. Any other questions, Mr. Private-Eye?” 

Jeongguk has to bite back the startled smile that does its best to flit to his lips. “Actually, yeah,” he says as Jimin leans back against the tree, enjoying the shade. “There were times when you’d look at me-- the Necromancer, I mean-- he’d look at me through your eyes and I’d go… motionless? My head would empty.” 

Jimin hums. “Ah. He was looking for a new host towards the end. Sizing all of you up as potential bodies to snatch. He did it to all of you when I got you alone. Namjoon, Seokjin, Taehyung. You.” Jimin bites his lip, looks at the ground like he’s ashamed. 

“A new host?” Jeongguk echoes. “I thought the whole point of stealing your body is your whole ‘magic of the dead’ thing.” 

“To be fair, I put up a hell of a fight when he was inside of me,” Jimin says with a shudder. “I guess I was more trouble than I was worth. I must’ve been taking too much energy from him.”

You? Not worth it? Jeongguk thinks. 

He might have actually said it, because Jimin makes a surprised choking sound a heartbeat later. 

Jeongguk tries to backtrack as fast as he can. For reasons unbeknownst to him, his own face feels like it’s on fire. “I mean. Uh. So you charmed us, then?” 

“Essentially.” There’s a twinge of pink in Jimin’s cheeks that’s not entirely unpleasant. 

And Jeongguk truly doesn’t know why he asks it. It’s stupid, and irresponsible, and reckless-- but Jeongguk’s always been a bit too curious for his own good. 

So before he can stop himself, Jeongguk rushes to ask, “And when you kissed me-- was that a charm, too?” 

Jimin blinks. That doesn’t bode well. Neither does the way his eyes narrow slightly. “What do you mean?” 

“When you kissed me. In the dormitory. I felt, uhm. Different. Like I wasn’t in complete control. The whole ‘heart racing, head spinning’ thing. That was him, right?” Jeongguk stammers. It’s a bad sign, because Jeon Jeongguk does not stammer. 

An even worse sign is the way Jimin’s smile blooms into a full on shit-eating grin. “Oh, my gods,” he laughs wholeheartedly. “No! That wasn’t him influencing you.”

“What?” Jeongguk bleats. For the first time Jeongguk can honestly remember, embarrassment burns through him so intensely that he feels his stomach flip. This was a bad idea; a sore fucking miscalculation. 

He takes a step back. Jimin advances in reply. “He didn’t enchant you into kissing me,” Jimin titters, amused tears pooling in his eyes. “It was all you.”

Jeongguk feels his face light on fire. 

Abort! His brain hollers at him. ABORT!

“Wait-” he tries to break into Jimin’s fit of giggles. 

“Your heart was racing!” Jimin mocks as he howls gleefully. He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as the force of his laughter rocks his body back and forth. 

The burning travels to the tips of Jeongguk’s ears and down his neck as Jimin accuses playfully, “Oh, gods. You like me.”

“I most certainly do not ,” Jeongguk denies a bit too vehemently to be casual. He crosses his arms over his chest, feeling exposed all of a sudden. It’s situations like this that Jeongguk tries to avoid with the whole ‘don’t get close to anyone’ philosophy he has going for him. 

Jimin rights himself and wipes at his eyes. “Oh, wow. This is so embarrassing for you.” He beams up at Jeongguk, fully at ease for the first time that Jeongguk has ever seen. 

And though he would rather it didn’t happen, something in Jeongguk’s chest clenches at the sight of Jimin’s face-- bare and tear-stained, hair tousled from the warm morning air that drifts through the foliage. 

“Cut it out,” Jeongguk tries to defend. “I was under a lot of stress, alright? I clearly wasn’t thinking. Forget this ever happened.”  

Unfortunately, Jimin doesn’t exactly seem like the type to let things go so easily. “Stress, huh?” Jimin taunts, tongue poked impishly into his cheek. “You always kiss like that when you’re stressed?” 

There’s a challenge buried beneath the surface of Jimin’s words, and Jeongguk is nothing if not competitive to the death. He forces down the residual self-consciousness that lingers in his throat and forces himself to stand taller. 

As he makes himself bigger, more menacing, Jeongguk volleys back, “You remember how I kiss, huh?” 

Jimin does a remarkable job of covering up how the retort throws him off, but some of his pleased shock bleeds through his expression. Only a beat passes between Jeongguk’s comeback and Jimin’s next words, but it stretches like a lifetime. 

“You used your tongue when you kissed me,” Jimin lilts casually. “Of course I remember.” 

Ignoring the way his spine straightens at the callback, Jeongguk huffs. “What? You kissed me .”

“Technically the Necromancer kissed you. I was just along for the ride.” 

Jeongguk takes a step forward. “So you’re innocent in this, huh?”

“Completely.” Jimin retreats a pace, cocky expression faltering. 

“And you felt nothing during the kiss too, I suppose?”

A step forward. 

“Did you want me to feel something?” 

A step back. 

Jeongguk doesn’t know how he got here, but Jimin has his back pressed against the tree. Jeongguk stands inches away, staring down at him. They’re close enough that Jeongguk can feel the rise and fall of Jimin’s chest as short breaths fly in and out of his throat. 

“That depends,” Jeongguk says. He puts one of his hands against the trunk of the tree to cage Jimin in. Something strange is happening; it’s as though Jeongguk’s brain is working on autopilot, voicing things that he didn’t even know he had the capacity to say. Jeongguk holds on for dear life as he ventures into uncharted territory. 

Surprisingly, Jimin’s expression softens. He tilts his head to the side. “It’s so hard to read you, Jeongguk,” he admits in a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard in the forest’s noise. “Half of the time you look at me like-” 

He breaks off. 

Jeongguk isn’t sure he’s breathing when he asks, “Like…?”

“Like you want-” 

Again, Jimin trails off. 

But he leans closer, subtly closer, so slightly that Jeongguk isn’t sure that he didn’t just imagine it. 

Despite the way his head yells at him to shove Jimin away and book it back to the palace, Jeongguk dips down. The need to know what Jimin’s thinking momentarily wins out over his need to be a decent, reasonable Human being. He’s in too deep. Way too deep. 

Jimin inhales through his nose shakily. “Like you want to-” He leans up onto the balls of his feet, so close that Jeongguk can feel his breath fanning over his lips. 

And-

A murmur echoes through the trees lining the clearing. 

Jeongguk pulls back in a heartbeat at the sounds as adrenaline dips into his system. Around them, the wind dies; the trees halt their leaves like they, too, are waiting. A kind of stillness descends-- the kind that hovers along the surface of turbid lakes or that clouds the sky just before a hurricane. 

“What was that?” Jeongguk mutters under his breath, more to himself than Jimin. 

From beneath him, Jimin ducks his head under Jeongguk’s outstretched arm. “How the fuck would I know?” Jimin replies in a whispered hiss, “We’re in the same place.” He darts his eyes around to the surrounding foliage, lowers his center of gravity just enough to tell Jeongguk that he’s preparing for the worst. 

“Shut up,” Jeongguk counters eloquently. Before Jimin can move more than a few paces away, Jeongguk surges forward. He places himself strategically between Jimin and the direction of the noise, instructs deadly-serious, “And stay behind me, Jimin.”

There are a few reactions that Jeongguk is expecting: a scared head-nod, a small pout and eventual agreement, or outright gratitude. What he’s not expecting is for Jimin to snort.

“No fucking way,” Jimin laughs in Jeongguk’s face as he neatly slips around Jeongguk. He takes the lead again, treading lightly through the underbrush to search for the source of the disturbance. 

Something nameless and hot flashes through Jeongguk’s stomach at Jimin’s outright denial, but Jeongguk mercilessly shoves it away. He’ll deal with it later. For now, he picks his way after Jimin and tries again. “But-”

Jimin shoots a glare over his shoulder. “Sorry, but do I look like someone who’s accustomed to waiting on the sidelines?” He gestures to himself, up and down, and Jeongguk really tries not to let his eyes trace the movement. 

He fails, because of course he does. 

“Weren’t you just the one talking about how delicate you are?” Jeongguk retorts, though he sees the muscle lining Jimin’s thighs through his thin trousers and the callouses spotting Jimin’s fingers. And yeah, maybe Jimin is delicate, but in the way that Earthside black widows and vipers are. But he’s sure as hell not going to tell Jimin that. 

Jimin spins noiselessly on his heel. He jabs his pointer finger at Jeongguk meaningfully and whisper-snarls, “Look, buddy, I’ve got magic at my fingertips, and you’ve got two guns that you can’t even use. Out of the two of us, I’m definitely the most deadly right now.” 

It’s true, but that doesn’t mean that the words don’t sink Jeongguk’s heart just a bit. Because he sounds absolutely pathetic . “Jimin-”

By the time that Jeongguk manages to call after him, Jimin is already ten feet away. He stalks through the forest skillfully, and it hits Jeongguk all at once that he doesn’t know Jimin very well at all. He doesn’t know how Jimin can switch from soft to harsh to sarcastic to a stuttering mess and back within moments. 

And it’s annoying.

Liar, a voice in Jeongguk’s head smirks.

Jeongguk drowns the sound of it out by charging after Jimin. “Fucking wait,” he calls after him, ducking under a branch to avoid being smacked across the forehead. 

“Be quiet, you oaf,” Jimin shushes. He comes to a halt a few feet away, peers through a gap in the trees at something that Jeongguk can’t see. Jimin darts his eyes to look at Jeongguk and makes a ‘come hither’ gesture with his fingers. 

With an irritated huff, Jeongguk crosses the distance separating the two of them. He sidles up behind Jimin and looks over his shoulder through the space between the trees. It occurs to him that Jimin’s back is pressed up against his chest. 

It occurs to Jeongguk that this should not be a thing that occurs to him right now. 

Fortunately, Jimin mutters, “ Look,” and Jeongguk is effectively distracted from the less-than-desirable implications of him thinking about Jimin like that. 

Jeongguk looks. 

There, in the near distance, sits Esmerelda. She’s seated with her back to them on a grey-blue rock that juts up out of the mossy floor. She’s perfectly still, not a hair out of place or a single crease in her perfectly-pressed silk dress. The stillness is more pronounced around her; there are no bugs flitting through the air, or birds rustling in the trees. 

Something about the scene makes Jeongguk’s stomach drop.

Esmerelda bends down to pick up something on the other side of the rock-- the side that Jeongguk can’t see. He cranes his neck and presses further against Jimin. 

“What’s she doing?” Jeongguk mumbles absently. 

“Why do you keep asking me these questions? I have the same amount of information that you do,” Jimin volleys back, but his ears are pink. “Plus, aren’t you the investigator here? Shouldn’t I be the one asking you to solve the mystery?”

Something that feels a little like irritation and little like something else licks up Jeongguk’s spine. He dips forward again to get a better look right as the Empress rights herself again. 

She’s got something in her hands, and it clinks as she moves. Esmerelda tilts her head to the side just enough for Jeongguk to see the barest hints of movement on her lips. 

“She’s sitting there-” Jeongguk starts. 

“Wow. Killer observation, Detective.” 

Jeongguk swats Jimin’s thigh with one of his hands. Jimin goes perfectly rigid as Jeongguk mutters, “Stop being a brat. She’s saying something. Can you make anything out?” 

“No-” Jimin tries, though he has to break off as his voice cracks. He clears his throat. “No. But- hang on. I can probably cast something to help with that.” 

The sound of Jimin’s quiet spellcasting cuts through the quiet in a mixture of unfamiliar consonants and lilted vowels. Jimin takes a step forward as he chants, hands raised in front of his chest, and Jeongguk does not mourn the contact one iota. 

Runes swirl up and down Jimin’s wrists. They shine bright white in the shade of the trees as they race up Jimin’s forearms, disappearing under the sleeves of his tunic. Jeongguk watches, completely entranced, as Jimin finishes speaking and opens up his right hand. 

In his palm is a flat little circle of light, crisscrossed by parallel lines. Jimin brings his hand up and turns so that it’s between them. From the surface of the circle, Jeongguk can make out the sound of the Empress’ lisped cadence. 

And yes, for a single second, Jeongguk is painfully jealous of Jimin’s magic-- but hey, it did come at the cost of Jimin being possessed and nearly killed on more than one occasion, so. Jeongguk’s made his peace with his lot. 

Soft words come spilling out of Jimin’s palm. They swirl up towards the canopy overhead, disappearing into the midmorning sunlight in a single heartbeat. Jeongguk furrows his brow as he listens in. The words are unfamiliar to him-- they’re in a foreign language that Jeongguk’s never heard before-- but the way the Empress speaks reminds him of an incantation. 

“Do you know what she’s saying?” Jeongguk asks under his breath. He inches closer and bends down a little more to hear the words better. 

Jimin bites his lip as he thinks. “No,” he says, “But it sounds- It sounds archaic. Like an old language from Earth.” Jimin leans closer to his hand as well until he’s almost nose-to-nose with Jeongguk. “The cadence of it is definitely something like a spell.” 

The stone in Jeongguk’s stomach sinks just a little lower. “But she isn’t an Alchemist,” Jeongguk whispers back ferociously. “Is she?” 

“I don’t think so. It could just be a prayer of some sort; spellcasting and making offerings to the gods share a lot of the same characteristics,” Jimin replies, but his face is blanched pale enough to let Jeongguk know that he’s just as worried about the potential of having another rogue Alchemist on their hands. 

There’s nothing in recorded history about the Imperial Line ever possessing any kind of magical ability, and there’s no way a secret as important as this would be this well-kept for so long. But the alternative doesn’t exactly make sense either, because in every way that matters-

“The gods are dead,” Jeongguk huffs, frustrated. “What’s the point in making offerings to them anymore?” 

Surprisingly, Jimin just scoffs. “ ‘The gods are dead’-- says the man who’s met two of them in person,” Jimin sasses. 

And yeah. Fair point. 

“They’re dead in the traditional sense,” Jeongguk finds himself defending. It’s been years since mass offerings and festivals for the gods were held on any planet within the Earthside cluster. Most gods faded into the background in the lives of all the souls in the universe-- because when life expanded into the cosmos, the cosmological didn’t seem so transcendent anymore.

The few gods who are remembered, who didn’t disappear into the ether, end up running casinos or investing in wayward tchotchke shops or doing something else wholly insignificant to keep themselves occupied. 

  Jimin does that laugh again-- the one that makes Jeongguk feel like he’s been lit on fire. For a moment, the noise of the Empress’ chanting softens into the surrounding air, words blurred and hazy under the intensity of the look in Jimin’s eyes.

He stares at Jeongguk thoughtfully, like he’s really seeing him. Like he’s picking apart the pieces of Jeongguk’s demeanor that don’t make sense, or that are clearly for show, and throwing them into the wind. 

It’s uncomfortable; the scrutiny sends Jeongguk’s stomach into knots in a way that isn’t pleasant at all. Jeongguk straightens, coughing awkwardly. He doesn’t mean to say anything-- he shouldn’t say anything, because there’s this feeling creeping through him that tells him that whatever he says right now isn’t going to do him any favors. It’s just going to push him in deeper into the mess he’s already made with Namjoon, and Yoongi, and Taehyung, and Hoseok, and-- 

Jimin.

But then Jeongguk’s mouth opens, and a voice that’s entirely too soft for his liking comes out. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

Jimin blinks, head tilting back to maintain eye contact. “Like what?” 

“Like you’re… reassessing me.” Jeongguk tries to harden his expression, to force the iron-clad facade he always wears around. 

Jimin isn’t phased. “Why is that a bad thing?” he challenges. His lower lip pulls between his teeth. 

“Because you don’t want to reassess me,” Jeongguk admits, terror coursing through his bloodstream as he realizes that he means this. “You’re not going to like what you find. I don’t.”

Incredulity blooms across Jimin’s brow. “I- what?” he starts, turning away from Jeongguk like he can’t look at him anymore, “Jeongguk, you’re-”

 Jimin’s eyes widen, and he leans into the brush so fast that he nearly topples over. Whatever he’d been about to say withers under the force of his new realization that:

“She’s gone,” Jimin breathes. 

Lightning fast, Jeongguk whips his head to follow Jimin’s gaze. There’s the rock in the middle of the clearing, the trees ringing the enclosure, but no Empress. There aren’t even any footprints. The ground is completely undisturbed, and the stillness that’d been holding the clearing in a trance has completely vanished-- it’s as though she was never there in the first place.

“What?” Jeongguk squawks, “Did you see her leave?” 

“No! She just-” Jimin mimes a ‘poof!’ gesture with his hands. “Evaporated.” The runes on his hands fade into nothingness. 

Jeongguk wants to slap himself, because while he’d been staring into Jimin’s eyes and feeling things he shouldn’t, he’d lost sight of his mark. It’s a mistake-- a rookie fucking mistake, and it’s all because of Jimin’s infuriating personality. 

A headache starts to form between Jeongguk’s eyes as he follows Jimin through the underbrush. “How the fuck did she-”

“Bones,” Jimin interrupts. He’s already halfway across the clearing, standing right in front of the rock where the Empress was just a few heartbeats ago. Jimin kneels down, scoops something up in his hand. “Bones,” he repeats. 

Jeongguk walks over. “Huh,” he says simply, because yeah. Those are bones. Gnarly ones at that-- they’re small, from some sort of bird or fowl, and still have bits of tendon and blood spotting the smooth white exterior. 

“What do bones mean, exactly?” Jeongguk asks, only feeling like a little bit of a dumbass.

 He’s fully expecting Jimin to call him on his blatant lack of arcane knowledge, but Jimin just furrows his brow and admits softly, “I’m not sure. It’s not my area of expertise.” He flips the delicate-looking bones over in his hand. “But I’m sure that Namjoon will know something about this.” 

Jeongguk hums in agreement. 

Focus, he tells himself, because now is not the time to be noticing the little dimple that breaks out across Jimin’s cheek as he frowns. Now is the time to be worried about the Empress casting magic with bones, not about how weary Jimin looks as he stares down at the small white stumps in his hands. 

Focus, because Jeon Jeongguk is a Professional who doesn’t get attached. 

Focus. 

It’s the mantra that Jeongguk repeats internally as they wordessly leave the forest, skirting around the side of the manicured lawn to avoid being spotted on their return journey to the palace.

It’s the mantra that Jeongguk repeats, but it doesn’t stop him from casting glances down at Jimin every ten seconds. It doesn’t stop him from feeling that annoying tug in the pit of his stomach-- the one that wants him to just give in and do something, no matter how inappropriate. 

Jeongguk tries; he really tries . 

But if Jimin’s hand brushes against his own a few too many times to be casual, and if Jeongguk doesn’t exactly make himself pull away after he notices, then at least there’s no one around to see him slowly unravel. 

🌑

The double doors to the library slide open noiselessly. Jimin pushes through, Jeongguk at his heels, as they step into the cavernous space. 

Like everything else in the palace, the library toes the line between a classic display of wealth and sickening grandeur. Tables made of woods Jeongguk has never seen before dot the walkway; rows upon rows of bookshelves stretch east and west, north and south in columns organized according to some decimal system Jeongguk isn’t familiar with; solid crystal lamps stand proudly in every single darkened corner. There are chairs plush enough to swallow the occupant hole and enough natural light through the windows to make them never want to leave.

Despite all of that, there’s not a single soul at any one of the countless reading spots. It’s so silent in the library that it feels like a mausoleum. Jeongguk can hear his own breathing as they walk down the nave. 

Jeongguk has no clue where they’re going, but Jimin walks with confidence across the polished floor. He heads to the back of the library, the part tucked away from any prying eyes. Jeongguk passes through the shelves after Jimin. He walks past old-looking scrolls written in dead languages and past what appear to be several tomes made out of some kind of animal hide. 

“This way,” Jimin breathes, but in the quiet it comes across as a shout. He dips around a corner, stops once they’re in front of a small fireplace ringed with emerald armchairs. 

Namjoon sits with his back to the shelves, immersed in reading aloud from one of the well-worn volumes. His words are little murmurs about things Jeongguk can’t understand, but Jeongguk isn’t the audience. Next to Namjoon on the little side table sits the golden urn-- the engraved one that holds the ashes of the only family Namjoon still has. 

For some reason, the sight tightens Jeongguk’s throat. 

Namjoon would look for his daughter, a voice in Jeongguk’s head whispers harshly, If she were missing, he’d look for her. What kind of person must you have been to have nobody on your tail?

“Namjoon?” Jimin says softly, and the booming sound of it shakes Jeongguk out of the downward spiral he’d been about to engage in. 

“ Gods,” Namjoon curses. He starts so intensely that the book goes flying out of his hands to land with a ‘thump!’ mere inches away from the open fire that sparks in the hearth. Namjoon whips around, the promise of death written in his eyes. 

Jimin darts forward. He swoops down, scoops up the book. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Jimin mutters, low and fast, “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. It’s just so quiet in here and I didn’t know how loud I should speak for you to hear me, but then I got in my head about it and spoke too loudly, and-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon interjects, clearly also accustomed to Jimin’s rants, “You’re silent in a way that’s really, really unnerving, but it’s alright. I’m just… on edge still, I suppose.” 

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t blame him. “Understandable,” he says with a sigh. Jeongguk moves to sit in one of the armchairs adjacent to Namjoon’s, unsurprised to find that it’s much too small for him. He sinks down into it anyway. 

As Jimin stands on the ruby-red carpet, still fidgeting nervously, Namjoon snorts, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your sorry face, Jeongguk? I don’t have any alcohol to sell to you or bars for you to destroy.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Jeongguk harrumps. For a single moment, this feels normal; the teasing and the quips feel just the same as they did in The Speakeasy before the end of the world. 

The ends of the worlds, Jeongguk corrects with a cringe. Out loud, he retorts, “And I’ve been sober for weeks now, apparently. Being in a coma does wonders for your alcohol consumption.” 

“Should I be worried about your liver?” Jimin asks with just a bit too much worry in his voice to be entirely casual. He perches on the armrest of Jeongguk’s chair, though another unoccupied loveseat sits just across from him, waiting to be used. 

Namjoon notices. The flash of curiosity through his eyes is enough to have Jeongguk dismissing, “It’s none of your concern, sweetheart.” The endearment just rolls off of his tongue, falls with the ease of someone who’s had more than his fair share of flirting matches. 

But Jimin’s spine only straightens, and his ears burn like he’s been humiliated. 

It feels like Jeongguk is spiraling out of control-- first in the forest, now in the library-- and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. Not so long as he has to stare at Jimin’s lithe back seated on the edge of his chair, dangerously close to Jeongguk’s fingertips. 

“We need your help with something,” Jeongguk says to Namjoon. Desperation to look at anything other than Jimin crawls up his throat. He hopes for once that Namjoon knows him well enough to get the hint that he’d rather not be talking about his personal life right now. Not in front of Jimin. 

“Is this personal or professional?” Namjoon asks in a drawl as he fails Jeongguk utterly and completely. 

Jimin makes an affronted sound. “Professional,” he stresses. “What does ‘personal’ even mean?”

Namjoon must see the threat of murder in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Nevermind,” Namjoon brushes off hastily. He leans back in his chair, places his book by the urn, and asks, “What is it?” 

“We found these in the woods,” Jeongguk starts to explain as Jimin rummages through his pocket for the small set of bones. He’s grateful for the distraction, fucking ecstatic to be thinking about something other than Jimin’s close proximity. “The Empress was using them.”

There’s a beat of hesitation as Namjoon picks up the fragments. He turns them over in his palm, zoning out as he thinks quietly. The contemplative silence only lasts for a second, and then Namjoon’s cutting a glance up to them. “The woods? Both of you were out in the woods, where we’re not supposed to be? Together?” The insinuation is clear in his tone. 

If Jimin notices the implication, he does a remarkable job at pretending like he doesn’t. “Let’s not get caught up in the technicalities. There are more important things-- like the fact that she was chanting.” 

That detail does the trick. Namjoon’s eyes widen, fingers grazing over the contours of the bones in his palm. “Did you catch anything she said?”

“We didn’t recognize the language,” Jeongguk contributes, firmly ignoring the way Jimin shifts on the edge of his seat to get more comfortable. 

Namjoon hums. “Interesting,” he mumbles. “There aren’t many procedures that still use bone magic. It’s a pretty dated custom, and…” 

The rest of his reply is swallowed by the vacuum of silence in the library. Namjoon fades back into himself as he thinks, brows pulling close together and up towards his hairline. His lips move noiselessly, making and dismissing conjectures that only he can hear. 

It lasts a minute. 

And then two.

And then five . 

“Care to share any observations with the class?” Jeongguk groans after ten long, arduous minutes of watching Namjoon half-talk to himself. 

Namjoon blinks in surprise, like he’d forgotten that he had company. Which he probably did. But then he places the bones on the table and steeples his fingers, leans forward, and explains softly, “I’m thinking that it could really be only one of two things. Either she’s trying to scry and see the future, or she’s working on communicating with the dead.” He ticks off each possibility on his fingers as he talks. 

The words mean next to nothing to Jeongguk. This isn’t his wheelhouse. Investigating shady clients, breaking and entering, and charming secrets out of drunk informants are what he’s good at, but magic isn’t exactly something he’s ever dabbled in. 

“Scrying only works if she has foresight, and that’s rare among Alchemists,” Jimin replies, “There’s no way we wouldn’t have heard if the Empress was a Seer.” It feels suspiciously like he’s providing context for Jeongguk’s benefit, but Jeongguk isn’t willing to risk looking like an idiot to call it out. 

“So she’s communing with the dead, then?” Jeongguk interjects, a little too happy to be able to add something to the discussion. “That can’t be good.” 

Jimin looks back over his shoulder at Jeongguk. He grimaces. “It’s not,” he sighs, turning back towards Namjoon to ask, “But how’s that even possible? She’s not an Alchemist; she shouldn’t be able to cast spells at all .” 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon disagrees, shaking his head. “Communicating across the veil between this world and the next is surprisingly easy. All it takes is an altar, the right tools, and a little bit of belief and well. You’re talking with Spirits. Summoning them and making them physical is what requires magic.” 

An exasperated huff pulls its way out of Jeongguk’s lips. He’s tired, and confused, and fed up with all of this magic that he hadn’t asked for in the first place. Now he’s here-- a Demon on his trail, a stone in the pit of his stomach, and an annoying drop of adrenaline in his blood as Jimin looks at him. 

“So her communicating with Ghosts is a real possibility then.” Jeongguk grouses, “But who the hell is she talking to?” He sweeps his hand back through his hair. It’s a bit too long for his liking, but Jimin’s eyes trace the movement nonetheless. 

Namjoon makes a ‘fuck if I know’ sound. “You have as much information as I do. I’m not exactly best friends with one of the leaders of the Galaxy.” 

“Seokjin might know something,” Jimin adds. His voice is tighter than usual. 

“Do you think?” Jeongguk asks, tilts his head back to meet Jimin’s stare. 

Jimin swallows. “It’s worth a shot, right?” he says, “Even if this whole situation amounts to nothing, it’s better to be thorough now than to regret it later, right? Especially after the whole ‘accidentally summoning a Necromancer’ thing.” 

“That’s an understatement,” Namjoon scoffs. Jeongguk pulls his gaze away from Jimin just in time to catch Namjoon’s eyes narrowing at the two of them. But then Namjoon leans back in his chair and waves his hand loftily, adding, “I mean, yeah. It couldn’t hurt. She could be talking with her grandmother just as easily as she could be talking to an ex-dictator for governing tips, but we won’t know until we ask.”

He looks pointedly at Jimin. 

Jimin gets the hint. He springs off of the armchair, stumbling forward in his haste. Jeongguk has to resist the urge to shoot his hand out to balance him, but he manages. Barely. 

“I’ll just- go get him, then,” Jimin says, a little breathless. 

Namjoon nods. “Just keep it quiet, alright? I don’t think that anything good’s going to come from having the Empress know that we spied on her in her own home.” 

“Got it.” Jimin sounds just a little breathless, and as much Jeongguk wishes he could pretend that he doesn’t know why, he does . 

The way that Jimin bites his full lips and tosses a glance back at Jeongguk before he exits the back room only confirms it. 

Jeongguk isn’t oblivious, and he’s not unfamiliar with flirting. Which only makes this whole thing harder , because he shouldn’t be watching Jimin walk away. He shouldn’t be pushing him up against trees in the middle of the forest, or kissing him in dormitories (possessed or not), or wondering what he looks like when the blush on his cheeks spreads down to his bare chest. 

But he’s having these thoughts anyway, and it sure as hell isn’t going to lead to anything good. Even if it is just physical. 

Almost on cue, Namjoon asks, “What the hell is going on between the two of you?” His voice is hard and low-- almost defensive. 

The part of Jeongguk’s brain that’s tasked with self-preservation-- which for him is pretty much all of it-- kicks into gear. 

Deflect! it screams.

“What?” Jeongguk finds himself asking, feigning innocence. 

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, not so easily swayed. “Come on,” he laughs. 

“I have no clue what you’re referring to.” 

“Seri- are you serious?” Namjoon gawks, clearly astonished at Jeongguk’s audacity. “You’re a Private Investigator. You make a living being able to read people. There’s no way you haven’t noticed how Jimin acts around you.”

Deny!

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side. “Namjoon, there’s nothing going on,” he huffs. “I swear.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then-

“Does he know that?” Namjoon’s expression darkens as he asks. 

And for some reason, Jeongguk feels his heart slam to a halt in his chest. It occurs to Jeongguk that he’s made a fatal mistake in getting to know everybody this well. If Namjoon can tell when he’s lying, and Jimin is acting like this with him, then Jeongguk’s too close for comfort. 

“Namjoon-” he tries to choke out.

“He looked at you like he cares about you,” Namjoon says easily, like Jeongguk isn’t having a hard time tucking down all of the emotions vying for dominance in his head. 

Jeongguk swallows past the lump in his throat. “You’re imagining things,” he denies as harshly as he can. It tastes like a lie on his tongue, because he’s seen the way Jimin looked at him that day in the hospital, and Jeongguk has noticed all the little touches that Jimin gives him-- all the little looks and private grins and soft quips. 

But that’s not important. Noticing isn’t important. Making all of it real by talking about it is what matters, and Jeongguk is not planning on doing that any time soon. 

“Am I really?” Namjoon presses. He crosses one leg over the other, skepticism riding his brow.

Jeongguk grits out, “Yes .” 

“Really?”

“ Yes.” 

“Because it seemed like he wanted to-”

All of a sudden, Jeongguk is standing. He’s drawn himself to his full seven-feet, towering over Namjoon easily. Fear clogs his throat, chokes him until all that comes out are harsh words. “Stop it. It’s nothing,” Jeongguk hisses venomously, “It’s nothing . I mean nothing to him; he means nothing to me.”

And maybe it’s because Jeongguk is here, back against the wall, that makes him say it. 

“Just go back to reading to your fucking pile of ashes and stay the hell out of my business.” 

The effect of his words is instant. 

Namjoon’s expression shutters closed. He uncrosses his legs, rises to his feet. “Wow, Jeongguk,” he says with a voice so low it’s almost inaudible. “You really are an asshole. That was a low fucking blow, even for you.”

He’s right, Jeongguk knows. The guilt is already creeping into his system. It’s already tugging the stone in his stomach lower, harder. He’s right, and yet Jeongguk still can’t find the words to apologize. 

“She’s my daughter,” Namjoon practically growls. He stands, picks up his daughter’s ashes, and shoves the golden urn into Jeongguk’s hands.

Jeongguk freezes. The cold metal burns the skin of his palms. The weight is monstrous.

“Eunwoo’s my daughter,” Namjoon repeats low and slow. “And I killed her. I watched her die. She’ll always be my daughter. So the next time you feel like lashing out because you’re hellbent on refusing to act like an adult-” 

Namjoon’s voice drops an octave as he whispers, “I will rip your fucking throat out and make you eat it. Pacifist or not.”

For the first time in his entire life, Jeongguk feels small. Eunwoo rests in his hands, small and tired and Human. 

Jeongguk stands there, head ducked down towards his chest as shame courses through him so cold that he thinks he might be freezing. 

“I’m sorry. I just-” The words feel so foreign on his tongue that Jeongguk doesn’t know it’s him speaking until Namjoon’s interrupting. 

“I know you’re sorry. That doesn’t make it alright.” Namjoon walks past Jeongguk, takes his daughter back into his own palms. “So go get some air. Clear your head until you’ve remembered how to be a decent Human being. I’m going to find the others.”

Namjoon leaves. He turns and walks out of the library, leaving nothing behind him but the pieces of Jeongguk that wilt to the floor as guilt presses down on his shoulders. 

Why do you do it? A voice whispers in Jeongguk’s head. What have you ever gained from being like this?

Safety, Jeongguk thinks in retribution, but the words feel wrong. This isn’t safe. None of this is safe. It’s lonely, and isolating, and turns him into someone who Jeongguk hopes he’s not. Someone he hopes he wasn’t in the past-- whatever that looks like. 

It isn’t safe, because it just leaves Jeongguk standing in the middle of an abandoned library, trying his best not to let the feelings in his lips pour out of him. 

It leaves him there, biting on his lip to keep from screaming, hands clenched into fists tight enough to keep him from shattering. 

It leaves him there, all alone. 

No one comes looking for him this time either. 

🌕

Jeongguk takes Namjoon’s advice. He wanders down the long, nearly abandoned halls of the palace aimlessly and does his very best to avoid thinking about or running into Jimin. It doesn’t quite work, because every three seconds Jeongguk’s brain goes back into that ‘what if’ loop that plays on repeat.

What if Namjoon is right? What if Jimin cares about me? What if I let him down? What if I’m nothing like the person who I’m supposed to be? What if-

Jeongguk shakes his head. He keeps walking, fully intending on finding something in the palace to occupy his mind-- but he doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s doing, so exactly three seconds later, the loop plays again. 

What if-

And that’s how Jeongguk spends twelve agonizing hours. He should be meeting with the others to figure out his past, or working on tracking down the Necromancer, or collaborating with Seokjin and Jimin to figure out what’s going on with the Empress. 

Instead, Jeongguk finds himself here, in the palace’s indoor swimming pool in the middle of the night. He justifies the excursion by lying to himself and saying it’s to get him back into shape after his coma, or that he hasn’t soaked in real water in months , but Jeongguk knows what the truth is. 

It’s just another thing to keep him busy and out of his own head. In the past, Jeongguk used alcohol. For now, this will do nicely. 

For a while, it works. 

Jeongguk swims laps around the water, dappled by the starlight that falls in from the glass skylight hovering in the center of the ceiling. There are a few enchanted lilypad candles that float on the surface of the water; they light themselves when Jeongguk comes, extinguish themselves when he floats away. 

The walls themselves are a shade of deep plum and are lined with mosaic-lined windows that stand ajar to let the midnight breeze in. Jeongguk’s newest set of expensive linen clothes waits for him on one of the plush red cushions on an adjacent wall. 

The sound of the air pushing through the leaves of the potted Malabar chestnut trees, the feeling of the water sluicing over Jeongguk’s muscles, and the harsh sting of his lungs all do wonders to take Jeongguk’s mind off of everything he shouldn’t be feeling for Park Jimin.

That is, until Jeongguk comes to a halt at the far side of the pool. He rights himself, treading water in the deep end as rubs at his face. 

“Hey,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk whips his head up so quickly that he throws himself off balance, tipping backward into the water for a brief, terrifying second. 

Jeongguk resurfaces as he coughs the water out of his lungs. He cuts an accusatory glance over at Jimin. 

Appropriately, Jimin looks a bit sheepish. “Damn it,” Jimin huffs, “Do I need to wear, like, a bell or something?” He puffs out the air in his cheeks, and it catches on his bangs, blowing them back and away from his forehead. 

“No, you just-” Jeongguk breaks off to hack up the rest of the treated water that’s altogether too comfortable in his lungs. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to see anybody here so late at night.”

Figures that you’d spend all day running from him to end up here, Jeongguk thinks to himself with a heavy sigh. 

Jimin lets out an amused hum. “Neither was I,” he says meaningfully. 

Jeongguk swims closer, grabs onto the edge of the pool. He notices that Jimin’s got a book in his hand, something ancient and old and written in a foreign language. He’s wearing silver silk pajamas; the bottoms cut off at his midthigh, and the collar of his long-sleeved shirt has the top button undone just to give Jeongguk a killer view of Jimin’s collarbones. Jimin is barefaced again, but his lips look soft and inviting. 

It takes a moment for Jeongguk to pull himself back into reality and away from the spell that Jimin always seems to be able to put him under. 

“What?” Jeongguk asks intelligently, assuming that he’s missed whatever Jimin has probably been saying.

Only, as he tugs his eyes from Jimin’s exposed throat, Jeongguk catches the way Jimin’s stare quickly darts up to Jeongguk’s face. 

Oh, Jeongguk thinks, because Jimin was looking at him too. Which means that he definitely noticed that Jeongguk’s only wearing his undergarments under the water. And Jimin has to have seen the scars that line Jeongguk’s torso. 

(He also must’ve seen the muscles of his abdomen. And the freckles along the base of his throat. And the cut of his hips that trails towards the hem of his bottoms.)

“Nothing,” Jimin says quickly, too quickly, “I mean. I just come here every night, and I- I haven’t had anyone down here with me before.” 

Jeongguk forces himself to keep looking at Jimin’s face instead of the thousand other places they seem to be drawn to. “You do?” he asks quietly. 

With a nod, Jimin explains in his usual rapid-fire cadence, “Yeah. Like I said earlier-- it’s hard for me to sleep after everything that’s happened. I found this place the first night after we got off of Yoongi’s ship, and… I don’t know. It was a good night. So I like coming back here to remember the feeling whenever I’m restless. Positive associations and all that, I suppose.”

He fidgets as he speaks. It is most certainly not endearing. 

“A good night?” Jeongguk half-laughs. He leans forward onto the pool’s wall, folding his arms over the edge. He rests his cheek on his forearms and sends a skeptical look up in Jimin’s direction. “Are we thinking of the same night? Because I’m pretty sure that I almost bled out on the operating table that night.”

Jimin shrugs. “But you didn’t.”

“And that’s what makes it good?” Jeongguk doesn’t know why he’s prolonging this whole conversation, because this is precisely the kind of thing he’d been running from all day, but there’s something about the sincerity in Jimin’s eyes that roots him in place. 

The beginnings of a disbelieving smile spread over Jimin’s face. “Is that not enough?” Jimin challenges right back. 

There’s a kind of fire in his eyes that makes Jeongguk’s mouth go dry. “No, I mean,” Jeongguk tries to explain hastily, “I guess it’s a good thing?” It sounds painfully like a question.

Which, of course, Jimin calls him on right away. “You ‘guess’? You survive being chased across the Galaxy, meeting two old gods face-to-face, and being impaled with a literal shard of diamond, and you ‘guess’ that surviving was a good thing?”

The barely-concealed amusement in Jimin’s tone lights something in the base of Jeongguk’s stomach, a feeling that he’d rather not name to avoid making it real .

Instead, Jeongguk wrinkles his nose at being teased. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Jimin asks innocently. He crouches, lowers himself to the ground until he’s lying on his stomach with his head in his hands, right at eye-level with Jeongguk. 

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk grunts as the thing in his gut spreads. “It just seems like, out of everything that happened that day, that shouldn’t be the most memorable thing that happened.”

Jimin pokes his tongue into his cheek. “So should kissing you be more memorable instead?” 

The heat sizzles, travels up and up until Jeongguk is practically choking on it under the force of Jimin’s charm. “You keep twisting my words,” Jeongguk grouses, even though he feels like he’s about to do something incredibly stupid. 

“No,” Jimin laughs lightly, “You’re just remarkably bad at expressing yourself.” He tilts his head, and his bangs shine in the blood of the stars, and in that moment Jimin just looks so- 

So-

So-

Jeongguk kicks off of the wall and chops his hand through the water to send a wave splashing right into Jimin’s perfect face. 

It hits its mark with immaculate precision. Jimin splutters as rivulets of chlorinated water track down his face. “ Hey!” he gasps, playing at being offended, “You fucking rat. You ruined my ensemble.” He frowns at Jeongguk, but the way he bites his lips tells Jeongguk enough. 

“Oh, please,” Jeongguk says, “You’re wearing pajamas, not a full suit.” It’s hard to keep the laughter out of his voice, which isn’t good at all-- because all Jeongguk successfully accomplished was turning an attractive, pleased-looking Jimin into an attractive, pleased-looking, wet Jimin. 

Jimin pushes up to his knees and picks snootily at the hem of his shirt. “These are silk.”

“Oh. Whoops,” Jeongguk shrugs like he has any idea what that means. He stands in the pool a solid two feet away, figuring that the more distance between him and Jimin right now, the better. 

“At least I didn’t have to pay for them,” Jimin huffs under his breath. 

And Jeongguk doesn’t know why the words pull a chuckle out of chest, but they do. Maybe it’s the way Jimin sounds so affronted-- the same Jimin who’s been possessed and nearly died twice, ready to fight over a little bit of water on his clothes. 

Either way, Jeongguk laughs. He laughs like he means it, and the sound is so foreign to his throat that it starts off as a strained puff of air. But then Jeongguk inhales and it comes out, low and sweet and clear as a bell.

Immediately, Jimin’s eyes are on him. They widen in shock for a moment, just enough to make Jeongguk spiral even further into mirth. This whole thing is ridiculous. Jeongguk’s nearly naked in a pool, practically flirting with the one person who he most definitely should not be, and- and enjoying it. 

Enjoying it so much that it takes his mind off of all the things Namjoon said earlier. All of the ‘what ifs’ and ‘be carefuls’ and everything else vying for dominance in Jeongguk’s subconscious. 

“You have a nice laugh,” Jimin whispers in the semi-darkness. He leans forwards on his palms, closer to the edge of the pool. “I like seeing you like this.”

Jeongguk’s breath dies in his throat. The look in Jimin’s eye is dangerous, but all it does is spread the feeling in Jeongguk’s chest to his every nerve ending until Jeongguk is pretty sure he’s going to catch fire. 

Still, he finds the room to taunt, “Like what?”

“Relaxed,” Jimin says easily. He shrugs. “You know. Without that stick up your ass.” 

Jeongguk scoffs. He isn’t aware that he’s moving back through the water until he’s staring right up at Jimin to retort, “I thought I was ‘hard to read’. What happened to that?” 

Something like delight flashes across Jimin’s features. “I stand by that. Figuring out what you’re feeling is like trying to see through a sheet of concrete.”

“And you’re not frustrated with it yet?” There’s an undercurrent to the question that neither of them miss. 

“Oh, no, I’m incredibly frustrated,” Jimin teases with a laugh. “I’m just incredibly good at hiding it.”

Right, Jeongguk thinks. He remembers Jimin’s feather-light touches and nearly-insignificant gestures that he thinks Jeongguk’s probably missed. But Jeongguk isn’t a stellar Private Investigator for nothing. 

Jeongguk plays along. “So?” he lilts. Jeongguk leans back onto the tiled lip of the pool, feeling the water lap at the base of his shoulder blades. 

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “So?”

“Let’s give you some practice reading me, sweetheart. What am I thinking right now?” The nickname comes out, and with it comes all of Namjoon’s words. Jeongguk shouldn’t be flirting, even if it is just physical-- but it’s dark, and there’s no one around to witness Jeongguk making a colossal mistake. So he does it anyway. 

Remarkably, Jimin doesn’t blush at the endearment this time. Instead, he dips down to lean on his elbows, face in his hands, nearly at Jeongguk’s eye-line. 

“Hmm…” Jimin starts thoughtfully. He closes his eyes as though he’s lost deep in thought, then makes a little ‘aha!’ noise. “You’re thinking… ‘ boy, it sure is cold in here. ’”

Jeongguk blinks. Now that Jimin brings it up, it is a little cold in the pool. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “...do you have, like, mind-reading spells? How’d you guess that?” 

 The grin that Jimin shoots at him is nothing short of resplendent. “Your nipples are perky,” Jimin says with a titter. 

Jeongguk looks down. 

And- yeah . 

“Please, please never say those words to me again,” Jeongguk groans. He moves to cross his arms over his chest like he’s been scandalized. 

Jimin tilts his head down lower and laughs that laugh that could probably convince somebody to commit murder, or embezzle millions. Probably both. At the same time. 

Inappropriately, Jeongguk’s heart stops.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk chokes out, not exactly sure where his mouth is leading him. 

“No, no, wait,” Jimin snickers as elation rides his brow, “Let me try again. See if I have a gift for reading your mind.”

It speaks volumes about Jeongguk’s current mental state that he accepts brazenly, “I- okay. Try me. Let’s do this.” 

Jimin smirks, pleased. “This time you have to close your eyes.” 

Suspicion curls up Jeongguk’s spine, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. More of the ‘keep you on your toes’ suspicion than the ‘somebody in here is a murderer’ suspicion. “Why?” he asks. 

“I really gotta get into your mind. That means no distractions.”

“And my eyes distract you?”

Jimin’s cheeks flush, but he just raises his eyebrows meaningfully and instructs, “Close ‘em, mister.” 

Don’t, something in Jeongguk’s head whispers in fear. Don’t, because there’s something in the air right now that promises trouble. 

Jeongguk closes his eyes. 

Nothing happens for a few seconds. 

Jeongguk floats, unsure about what he’s waiting for. Around him, the water cools in the night’s cold breeze. 

There’s the most subtle shift of silk on skin, a quick intake of breath, and then-

Jeongguk feels it, so light that he’s almost sure that he’s imagining it. 

It feels unmistakably like a pair of lips on his own. It feels like Jimin’s breath that fans across his mouth, warm and hitched.

But as soon as Jeongguk puts a name to the feeling, it vanishes.

Jeongguk flicks his eyes open just in time to see Jimin leaning away on his haunches. He’s pink from the cheeks down.

It’s still for a heartbeat, and then Jeongguk is whispering, “Jimin.”

Jimin visibly stiffens. He looks down at Jeongguk to stare into his eyes, clearly searching for something. But Jeongguk struggles to find the words-- it feels like he’s being engulfed by fire, and there’s something strange twisting around his heart as it thrums in his chest. Jeongguk is so occupied by trying to keep the words he wishes he could say tucked away that Jimin clears his throat uncomfortably. 

“Sorry,” Jimin murmurs, clearly embarrassed. He fidgets as he talks. “I must’ve… misread your mind-” a forced laugh here, “-so. Occupational hazard, I guess. Just- I should probably go now. I mean, it’s late, and-”

“Jimin.” 

Jeongguk can’t stop himself. He should. He should take into consideration the fact that they have to work together-- that he and Jimin have more history than can be solved by this kind of thing. 

And yet-

“Yeah?” Jimin whispers right back. 

And yet, for a brief second, Jeongguk is willing to risk it for now if it means that he gets to feel Jimin’s warmth for just a little bit longer. 

Jeongguk’s brain shuts off. He surges up and out of the water, reaches up with one hand, cups the back of Jimin’s neck, and pulls him into a kiss. 

The world doesn’t freeze at the contact, but Jimin does.

Jeongguk stays like that, half-in and half-out of the water, lips pressed tightly against Jimin’s. 

Come on, a voice in Jeongguk’s head urges, a different one than usual. Come on. 

In the next heartbeat, Jimin gasps. His mouth opens, and then the fireworks start. 

Jimin’s hands fly up to frame Jeongguk’s face as Jeongguk tilts sideways to deepen it. He slots his lips over Jimin’s, presses with an insistence carried by all of the words he can’t say out loud. He sucks Jimin’s thick bottom lip in between his own and tugs it lightly with his teeth. 

“Jeongguk,” Jimin moans softly into his mouth. 

Electricity shoots straight up Jeongguk’s spine at the sound. An unfamiliar noise pulls out his mouth, halfway between a growl and a groan. His head empties as Jimin pushes forward and licks at the seam of Jeongguk’s lips, hands trailing up through Jeongguk’s hair to tug gently at the roots. 

Jeongguk’s free hand lowers down from the back of Jimin’s neck. He trails it down Jimin’s arm, across his waist, onto his hip-- and he does it all without breaking away from Jimin’s mouth.

Jimin leans forward even more. He sighs at the feeling of Jeongguk’s tongue pushing past his lips, so engrossed in the feeling that he doesn’t seem to notice as he leans a bit too far forward and-

Falls straight into the pool.

All at once, the kiss is broken. 

Jeongguk watches, dazed, as Jimin flounders in the deep end for several seconds before his head pops back up above the waterline. His auburn hair clings to his face. Water drips off of the end of his nose. Jimin treads water, shock in his eyes. 

He stares at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk stares right back.

At exactly the same moment, they dissolve into laughter. 

Jeongguk feels lighter than he has in years as Jimin giggles into the darkness, bathed from head to toe in the moonlight that dapples across the pool’s surface. 

“I’m a mess,” Jimin snorts good-naturedly. He pouts, holding both of his arms out above the water for Jeongguk to take. 

Jeongguk does. He settles in between Jimin’s arms, savoring the feeling of Jimin wrapping around him a bit too much. “That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers hoarsely. He braces his hands on the ledge behind Jimin, backing him right up against it, and seals their lips together again. 

“Mm,” Jimin breathes against his mouth. He opens his legs to let Jeongguk slot in between them underwater, hitching them up and over Jeongguk’s hip bones. 

The height difference means that Jeongguk has to bend his neck uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care. Not when Jimin’s making these sounds , pressing against him in ways that are downright sinful. Not when Jimin’s tilting his head back in pleasure as Jeongguk kisses down the line of his jaw. 

Jeongguk doesn’t give a single crap about all of the things he shouldn’t be doing, because this feels so right that he can’t stop. “Jimin,” Jeongguk murmurs in between placing open-mouthed kisses along Jimin’s throat, all the way down to his collarbone. 

“ Please-” Jimin pants. His pajamas float on the water just enough for Jeongguk to catch a glimpse of the bare skin of Jimin’s waist. The fire in Jeongguk’s stomach dips, pools lower and lower. 

Whatever you need, Jeongguk thinks, or maybe says . He nips the sensitive skin behind Jimin’s ear, relishes the way Jimin bodily jerks, hands coming down from Jeongguk’s hair to rest-

On his neck. 

Jeongguk freezes. 

It all comes rushing back. 

Oh, sugar. Jeongguk hears Jimin’s voice resounding through the room. It’s harsh and low and- 

You’re speaking to someone so much better

There are fingers on Jeongguk’s neck. There’s a palm pressed against his throat. There’s blood coating his tongue. Someone is screaming in his head. 

I’ll savor the moment when I get to tear the muscles from your bones

The world is edged with black and tastes like copper. 

Breathing is hard; it comes in short, painful gasps. 

No, Jeongguk thinks wildly, No. No. 

No no no 

“Jeongguk?” Jimin’s worried voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. “Jeongguk, what’s wrong?” 

Jeongguk is only faintly aware of the ragged breaths scorching out of his throat. He looks at the man across from him. The brown hair, the small freckles, the delicate features-- and Jeongguk swears that he sees a flash of vibrant green in Jimin’s eyes.

“No,” Jeongguk chokes out. He rips backwards, out of Jimin’s arms as the world spins around him. “Please.” 

Jimin’s brows pull together. He looks as terrified as Jeongguk feels. Slowly, he reaches out. “Jeongguk?”

“No!” Jeongguk chokes out in a half-yell. He flinches away from Jimin’s fingers involuntarily. 

And Jeongguk feels himself spilling. He’s pouring over the edges of himself, losing control of what’s real. 

Of its own volition, Jeongguk’s body pulls him out of the water and away from Jimin-- pulls him away to the other side of the room. 

Get to safety, the self-preservation voice in Jeongguk’s head instructs calmly. Go. Now. 

His feet are moving. Someone’s calling after him. 

Run, it says.

Jeongguk’s feet run. They move him down the corridor, soaking wet and terrified. 

Don’t look back, it coaches. 

Jeongguk doesn’t. He tears down the hallways. His chest heaves under the pressure; a high-pitched ringing pings between his eardrums.

Protect yourself, the voice hisses.

As Jeongguk rushes into the room, he does. He slams the door shut behind him, locks it with a heavy ‘thud’. 

Jeongguk sinks to the floor, back against the wall. He slides to the floor. 

He falls, and as he hits the ground, he shatters into a million little pieces all over the expensive marble. 

Good, the voice soothes. Now block it out.

So Jeongguk does.

Chapter Text

A day goes by with no word from Jimin. 

Time passes slowly; Jeongguk sits tucked away in his massive room, lying on the blood red mattress and staring up at the ceiling. He leaves only in the middle of the night to sneak into the kitchen or in the midafternoon when Seokjin and Namjoon run tests on him. Jeongguk avoids the hallway that Jimin’s room is in, and the hallway that leads towards the pool. 

Throughout it all, Jeongguk plays the same ten seconds on loop in his brain-- the feeling of Jimin against him, and then his fingers on Jeongguk’s neck, and then the terror . He’s tried to block it out and push everything down next to the rest of his unresolved feelings, but it doesn’t quite work. 

Maybe it’s because Jeongguk feels like a complete asshole for leaving Jimin there in the pool without so much as an explanation of why he’d left. 

But then a day passed without contact, and then two days, and then three days, and now it’s too late. 

So when Jeongguk finally sees Jimin again, he sort of wishes that he were still in a coma, because anything is better than seeing the bags hanging under Jimin’s eyes and noticing how Jimin purposefully avoids staring at Jeongguk.

The tension is thick, so thick that Jeongguk feels like he can practically taste it. He should do something about it-- the little voice in his head that might actually be a conscience is screaming at him to just apologize , but for some reason, Jeongguk just can’t find the words. 

So for now, Jeongguk just stares at Jimin out of the corner of his eye. Jimin is seated across the table from him, Taehyung practically pressed against his side. It’s the early afternoon. Light seeps in through the panes to drench Jimin’s perfect face in golds and reds. And he looks so soft that Jeongguk just wants to push aside everything that’s happened and jump across the table and-

“Jeongguk?” 

Jeongguk blinks at the sound of Namjoon’s irritated voice. He looks away from Jimin’s stony expression, flicks it over to the head of the table where Namjoon sits. Everyone looks at him expectantly, so Jeongguk nods his head, pretends that he’d been listening, and hums, “Yes. That sounds good. I agree.”

“With what?” Yoongi sighs. He cards a hand back through his too-long white hair and levels Jeongguk with a look that’s clearly unimpressed. 

“Uh-” Jeongguk tries to cover, “With whatever you just said.” It’s a weak attempt at pretending like he’s been paying attention, but Jeongguk is too exhausted from thinking and overthinking about Jimin that he honestly doesn’t even give a shit right now. 

It’s all just too much, and expecting Jeongguk to pay attention to a status-update meeting when he’s tired and starving and feeling awful is wholly unreasonable. 

Yoongi doesn’t seem to give a shit. “I didn’t say anything,” he counters with an annoyed down-turn of his lips. 

“Then consider it a blanket statement,” Jeongguk quips right back. 

From the opposite end of the table, Seokjin groans. “Come on, Jeongguk. We need you to focus. This is important.” 

It’s always important, Jeongguk wants to snap right back. It’s always the end of the world, or the end of a life, or the end of something . And I didn’t ask for any of it.

Instead of the vitriol that he wishes he could spit, Jeongguk forces himself to take a deep inhale. It calms the irritation bubbling in his stomach just enough to let him apologize through his teeth, “Sorry. I’m just… distracted.”

As much as Jeongguk wishes that he didn’t, he flashes a glance over in Jimin’s direction. 

Taehyung catches the glance. He scoffs. “Right. That’s what’s going on.”

Great, Jeongguk growls internally, taking in how close Taehyung is sitting to Jimin, the anger simmering in Taehyung’s eyes. He knows now, too. 

It really shouldn’t come as a blow to Jeongguk, because what’s one more person disappointed in him in the grand scheme of things? In the long list of people Jeongguk’s let down in the last five years of his life, Taehyung is really nothing more than a little blip. 

Jeongguk decides that it doesn’t matter what Taehyung thinks of him, or what Jimin thinks of him, even though the slowly-sinking rock in the pit of Jeongguk’s stomach seems to feel differently. 

But then Namjoon is talking again, and Jeongguk has something to distract him from the way shame is crushing his chest. “Like I was saying ,” Namjoon interjects, clearly annoyed, “There’s been no progress on your identification process, Jeongguk.” 

That genuinely catches Jeongguk’s attention. In a heartbeat, he’s sitting straight in his chest, focus on Namjoon. “What?” he asks, because after the slew of tests he’d had to go through with Seokjin, he was sure they’d find something. .

(The blood test was the worst. It’d taken six vials. Six vials.)

“Not even with the sequencing? The blood tests? The dental records?” Jeongguk lists, rapid fire in his disbelief. 

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin apologizes. He looks like he actually means it, too. Seokjin tilts back in his chair and bites the inside corner of his cheek like he’s trying to figure out what the most diplomatic way to break the news to Jeongguk is. 

Eventually, he settles on sighing. “I looked through all of the databases with Namjoon-- the blood donor list, hospital records, even the Intergalactic Orphanage Federation. Nothing matches your biological markers.” 

The words feel like a physical blow to Jeongguk’s chest. This was his last shot, and if the Empresses’ son can’t do anything for him, then there’s nothing left to be done. There’s no way in hell Jeongguk is ever finding out where he came from. 

That doesn’t stop him from protesting, “How is that possible? I mean- how the hell is that possible?!” Jeongguk can’t stop himself from half-standing as he practically shouts. Something that feels dangerously close to hopelessness floods his system, makes him red-hot all over. 

It must be the most emotion Jeongguk’s ever displayed, because he’s met with five sets of surprised eyes. Six, if Hoseok’s poor imitation of sympathy counts. 

“It should not be possible,” Hoseok says, a concerned frown twisting his features. “The statistical likelihood of you missing identification marks is less than 0.0001%. It is as though you never existed in the first place.”

Hoseok must see the look on Jeongguk’s face, because he nods, reaches across the table to pat Jeongguk’s forearm, and adds, “There, there. I know it is awful. It will get better.” 

“Maybe up his capacity for empathy a bit, Tae,” Yoongi whispers surreptitiously from Hoseok’s right side. 

Taehyung nods. “Noted.”

“My empathy is fine. I am just relaying facts,” Hoseok defends. He furrows his brow, huffs, “And if you think that I will allow that blue-raspberry pirate knockoff to lay his hands on my beautiful hard drive once more, you are incredibly mistaken.” 

The insult sounds strange coming from Hoseok’s mouth, but it really should be surprising. He does spend most of his days with Yoongi, after all. 

Taehyung wrinkles his nose at the insult. “Oh, come on . I know I programmed you to understand how to use contractions.”

“Suck on it,” Hoseok counters, earning a congratulatory pat on the back from Yoongi.

“That’s not even the right insult!”

Through all of the bickering, Jeongguk finds himself staring at Jimin again. He can’t help it; it’s like Jimin is magnetic. It doesn’t help that there’s that persistent tugging in Jeongguk’s stomach. It’s the same one that made him kiss Jimin in the pool, or grab his arm all those days ago in his bedroom. It’s the one that made him notice Jimin in the first place, all the way back in the bar on Xeada. 

Don’t you think that means something? a voice that sounds annoyingly like Namjoon’s murmurs in the back of Jeongguk’s head. 

Like the godsend that he is, Namjoon interrupts again, voice cutting above the sound of Taehyung and Hoseok’s increasingly-escalating shouting match. “Moving on.” He stands, leans his hands onto the table, and looks at Jeongguk. “ I’m sorry, Jeongguk. There’s nothing else we can do about it at this point. This is the only lead we had aside from the map on your neck.”

“And we can’t even follow the map until after the festival,” Seokjin contributes helpfully. During the argument, Seokjin somehow managed to materialize a crystal nail file from out of nowhere. He drags it across his nails smoothly, barely interested in the tension around him. “So there’s that .”

Yoongi groans, long and loud. “Someone please remind me why we’re wasting time staying for a festival when we should be tracking a rogue Alchemist? We’ve wasted too much time as it is.” 

“It’s a party. With free drinks and live music,” Taehyung drawls slowly. He exaggerates his words for Yoongi’s benefit, eyes widening condescendingly. 

Yoongi just raises his eyebrows, vaguely unimpressed. “Is this supposed to sound enticing at all?” 

“I wanted to see Eomma,” Seokjin says. He waves his hand about regally. “It’s been a while. And besides, I have to spend some more time with Mom. You and Jimin were definitely right,” Seokjin nods in Jeongguk’s direction, “Something’s off with her lately.” 

Namjoon splutters in surprise. “You made inroads then? On the whole ‘one of the Empresses of the Galaxy might be practicing bone magic’ thing?” 

For the first time in a while, Seokjin looks worried. Jeongguk decides that it’s a nice change from his usually-unruffled exterior. “Kind of,” Seokjin starts. He ‘thumps’ his chair back to the floor and pockets the nail file. “I did some snooping and found some… ah. Remains in her room.”

And yeah, that doesn’t sound good. 

“Gross,” Taehyung faux-gags. 

Seokjin nods emphatically. “You’re telling me.” 

A quiet voice asks, “And she’s never done this before?” 

It’s Jimin. 

Jeongguk’s head whips to Jimin so fast that he’s sure that everybody at the table notices. He doesn’t care though, too intent on listening to the first words he’s heard Jimin say in the last three days. Jimin sounds tired, smaller than his usual fast-talking-larger-than-life self. 

It’s startling how quickly Jeongguk decides that he hates it. He decides it even quicker than he decides that he shouldn’t hate it. 

Jeongguk opens his mouth-- to say what, he doesn’t know-- but Seokjin beats him to the punch. 

“I think I would have noticed if I grew up in a palace full of animal carcasses, Jimin,” he sasses. 

Over the sound of Jimin’s semi-annoyed huff, Jeongguk asks, “But we don’t know who she could be contacting?” He makes himself participate in the conversation, because without it he knows he’ll end up doing something stupid, like staring at Jimin even more than he already is. 

Seokjin just sighs again , heavy and actually concerned. “Not a clue. She was an orphan. Has no clue who her parents are.” 

“Do you think she might be trying to find out?” Namjoon presses. He leans further forward on the table. 

“Again, I’m not sure. She’s never seemed interested before. I don’t know why she’d be now.” As Seokjin speaks, his frown deepens. 

And even though it probably makes him a horrible person, Jeongguk has the thought that-- it must be nice to have parents to worry about.

“But getting in contact with her long-lost parents is better than digging up arcane Spectres from unholy Spectres,” Hoseok nods sagely, “Maybe it is not as bad as we initially thought.”

Namjoon tilts so far forward that his hands slip on the polished wooden table. He shoots forward, cracks his elbows on the hard surface loud enough that Hoseok cringes. 

Everyone does a remarkable job at restraining their laughter (save for Taehyung, who lets out one choked chuckle). 

“Still,” Namjoon continues as though nothing happened. “I’d feel a lot better if we cleared this up before we left.” 

“Me too. For now, we’ll just keep an eye on her, alright?” Seokjin says. He looks around the table, takes stock of all the nods of agreement. 

Out of nowhere, Jeongguk blurts, “I’ll do it.” 

He doesn’t realize that he’s said anything until everyone is looking at him again. Hell, even Jeongguk’s surprised. He’s not the type to volunteer for anything at all-- he almost didn’t help Jimin in the beginning either. 

Do it, Jeongguk’s inner voice tells him. Keep your mind off of him. 

Which, good point. 

“I’m an investigator, remember?” Jeongguk covers his fumble smoothly. “I have experience. And besides, it’s not like I’ve done much to help the team yet.” 

Jimin frowns, opens his mouth, closes it. 

It’s Namjoon who exclaims, “Great. Thanks.” He looks at Jeongguk and nods. Jeongguk reads it as what it is. 

Don’t fuck it up, Namjoon’s eyes seem to say, I’m just starting to forgive you for being an asshole.

Jeongguk swallows hard. He nods, almost imperceptibly. 

“Well, now that that’s sorted,” Seokjin announces as he stands, “I have some last minute things to tie up for the festival tomorrow.” 

Almost too quickly, Taehyung interjects, “Do you need a hand? The main courtyard is looking a little sparse, and I know that Emmy wanted to go over-the-top for Ae Ri’s arrival.” 

Emmy. Ae Ri, Jeongguk hears the names in his head. First names. 

There’s a familiarity there that Jeongguk can’t help but notice. Like Taehyung’s closer to the royal family than he should be. Jeongguk files the information. Just in case. 

“Sure,” Seokjin nods easily. “We’ll regroup after the celebration tomorrow to make the final preparations, and then we’re off to the training planet. Agreed?” 

Nods echo around the table. And just like that, the update meeting that Jeongguk thought he was never going to get through passes. It ends, and everyone files out of the room.

Jimin leaves first, Taehyung hot on his heels. He disappears, and for some reason Jeongguk feels something in his stomach sink.

By the time Jeongguk leaves the small conference room, everybody else has already split off into twos and threes; Jeongguk stands alone by the door. 

Maybe I’ll practice shooting, Jeongguk thinks halfheartedly. He has to do something to improve. To show everyone else that he’s more than the one who’s going to bring about the end of the world eventually. Every time he’s alone, that fucking predicition from The Moirai flashes before his eyes. 

The one where he’s dead on the ground, and everyone is dead around him. Jeongguk hasn’t forgotten about it. It’s amazing that no one else has brought it up yet. Reminded him of what’s going to happen if he fails. 

Either way, Jeongguk has to do something , otherwise he’ll end up in someone else’s room with apologies on his lips. 

He turns on his heel to head in the opposite direction (the hallway that branches away from Jimin’s bedroom), and stops dead in his tracks. Because there, not more than ten feet away, stands Esmerelda. 

She faces Jeongguk with a bright smile on her face. It looks almost painful, forced in a way that makes Jeongguk’s skin crawl. 

Something isn’t right, Jeongguk whispers to himself. He wonders how long she’s been out here. How much of the conference she’d heard. 

And though she wears tension laced throughout her grin, the Empress approaches with her head held high. Her ruby red dress swishes around her ankles as she sashays through the sun-drenched open corridor. 

“Jeongguk! What a pleasant surprise,” she greets, reaching out to firmly shake Jeongguk’s hand. Her palm is clammy and cold. “You've been awfully absent lately.” 

Jeongguk half-bows politely. “Your Majesty. I’ve been busy preparing for our departure.” It’s not entirely a lie. He has been coming up with a packing list and working on his aim. That counts. Probably. 

“Ah, yes,” Esmerelda sighs, “The dreaded liftoff. I’m just glad that you’re staying for the festival, at least. You deserve a little down time before you go jettisoning off to the next planet with my son in tow.” 

Instinct tells Jeongguk to cover his shock with charm. So he flashes a blinding smile, one he hopes is unassuming, and does his very best to nod eagerly. “It’s nice to get a break from all the action,” he comments with decidedly more enthusiasm than he feels. 

Jeongguk watches as the Empress’ eyes narrow subtly. The grin on her face grows a centimeter; her head tips to the side as she drops Jeongguk’s hand. “Especially after all you’ve been through! The whole mess on Earane must have been particularly hard on you.”

Her tone of voice carries a challenge in it. Jeongguk hears it loud and clear. 

“The mess?” Jeongguk asks innocently. Something about this whole exchange feels like a test. Jeongguk just doesn’t know whose benefit it’s for.

“You know. Getting in the gunner capsule after so long. Dealing with the trauma. That can’t have been pleasant.” Empathy colors the Empress’ tone sickly sweet, but Jeongguk freezes. 

He hadn’t told anyone about his fear of the gunner’s capsule. Jeongguk hasn’t mentioned it to anybody -- not Namjoon, or Yoongi, or Seokjin. The only other person who might even have a clue about his past is Jimin, from that night on the deck of the ship. 

The fact that Esmerelda knows is beyond troublesome. 

“How do you know about that?” Jeongguk asks before he can stop himself. His heart slams out an allegretto against his ribcage as he waits for a response.

The Empress shrugs. She crosses her arms behind her back. “My son tells me everything. We’ve discussed you at length, too.”

It’s a lie, Jeongguk realizes. He’s never spoken to Seokjin about this. Jimin wouldn’t tell Seokjin about this, either. 

It’s a lie . 

Suspicion snarls in the base of Jeongguk’s throat, readying hundreds of questions. Jeongguk swallows them all back. Instead, he nods easily, lets out an airy laugh, and dismisses, “Oh. I forgot about that.” 

Esmerelda’s grin eases. Relief colors her expression. “Quite,” she hums noncommittally. And then she’s sweeping past Jeongguk, back towards the conference room and down the hall. “Well. I look forward to seeing you again soon,” she calls over her shoulder. 

She leaves so quickly that Jeongguk’s head spins in her absence. Around him, the evening air swirls the curtains in the hall merrily. It sweeps across the back of Jeongguk’s neck to cool the sweat beading at the base of his spine.

It doesn’t calm the fear that rushes through his bloodstream. The intonation pattern, the speed, the spellcasting. All of the pieces click together in Jeongguk’s head, and then he has the sickening, bloodcurdling thought. 

It can’t be that, Jeongguk tries to reassure himself. He turns to stare at the shape of the Empress’ receding back. 

There’s no way.

She rounds the corner, disappears out of sight with a grace that Jeongguk swears he’s seen before. 

That’s crazy. 

And yet. If he’s right, things are about to get very, very bad very, very quickly. 

It’s crazy . 

...Right? 

🌕

The night of the festival, Jeongguk remembers all at once why he hates parties. They’re different from the crowds he’s usually a fan of being lost in; at parties, everyone wants to drink (which he’s fine with)-- but they want to drink and chat (which he’s not fine with).

All Jeongguk wants to do right now is be a fly on the wall, but so far ten different people and Fae have walked over to him to try and strike up a conversation. It’s not like he can blame them. Jeongguk stands at least a head and a half over even the tallest of the Fae, and he’s got on a tailored black three-piece suit that’s expensive enough to make Jeongguk wonder what the Empresses had to give up to barter for it.

Despite all the attention, Jeongguk does his best to fade into the background. He stands on the edge of the black-and-gold tiled floor, right next to the pillars that hold bouquets of flowers so vibrant that Jeongguk is certain they’ve been genetically altered. From here, Jeongguk has a perfect view of the white spiral staircase that twinkles with the light from handfuls of will-o'-the-wisps. Chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, suspended by some enchantment, and there are waiters flitting about the room with the grace of dancers. 

Yoongi drums out a floor-tom swing in another corner of the room; Taehyung stands with Hoseok a few feet away by the open bar, trying and failing to convince the AI to have a drink for the first time in his new (albeit short) life. 

Jeongguk pays attention to none of it. He keeps his eyes focused on Esmerelda, observing how she nods as guests come up to greet her. The Empress tilts her head back into a laugh so loud that Jeongguk can feel it in his molars. 

Kill me, Jeongguk prays to whatever gods might still be listening. This is quite literally a nightmare. He’d rather be doing anything else than standing here in some stuffy suit that itches his neck, ever-aware of the way Namjoon’s eyes track him from the other end of the ballroom. 

But at least all the focusing on the Empress keeps his mind off of-

Jimin, who sweeps past at that exact moment in a colossal bout of bad timing. 

Jeongguk’s mouth dries. He hears the tinkling sound of Jimin’s laughter as he teases some old foreign dignitary. “Oh, you are bad,” Jeongguk thinks he hears Jimin giggle. The words make something ugly curl in Jeongguk’s stomach, because even though Jimin was looking like a reanimated corpse yesterday, today he looks… fine. 

Happy, even. 

The crimson suit that clings to Jimin’s physique is exquisite; the way it hugs his curves and angles is even more so. And though Jeongguk would rather stab himself in the eye with the shrimp forks that line the waiters’ serving trays, he has the realization that he’s jealous. 

Fundamentally, irritatingly jealous of the old man who’s got Jimin hanging on his arm and charming the pants off of him. The thought lingers, even once Jeongguk firmly reminds himself that he’s not allowed to have these kinds of feelings for Jimin. He’s not allowed to have anything for Jimin-- Jeongguk’s actions and piss-poor apology skills have well and truly closed that opportunity for good. 

But then Jimin turns his head and glances over his shoulder. His eyes fall on Jeongguk. They widen, clearly surprised that Jeongguk is staring back at him. And Jeongguk swears that electricity rides along the gaze. 

He doesn’t get more than a moment to be shocked about it, though, because then Esmerelda is clinking her spoon daintily against her champagne class, and the entire ballroom descends into quiet. 

Yoongi leads his rag-tag jazz quintet in the corner to fade to a fizzle as the Empress booms, “Dear friends, you have my deepest thanks for attending tonight’s gala! And on such short notice, to boot.” She smiles her dazzling grin, and for a second it looks so natural that Jeongguk starts to doubt whether his sneaking suspicion is actually right. 

“Tonight, we are celebrating the return of my favorite son-” here she breaks off, gestures to Seokjin, who sits like the prince he is in one of the red velvet lined thrones at the top of the staircase- “and my beloved partner.” 

Like it’s been rehearsed, which it probably has, the will-o’-the-wisps and lighted chandeliers dim. Yoongi strikes the snare drum in a rimshot, lowers his sticks to kick off a building drumroll. 

Esmerelda opens her arms, welcoming the way the grand doors that lead to the exterior courtyard swing open at her command. “May I reintroduce to you,” she begins as a procession enters the ballroom from outside, “Back from her tour of the Outer Reaches-”

The drumroll crescendos into a forte; Jeongguk watches with rapt attention, spellbound, as a train of servants dressed in stunning vermillion, azure, and emerald hanboks sweeps into the room. 

“Her Royal Empress, and my wife, Kim Ae Ri!” The smile on Esmerelda’s face is positively luminous-- which Jeongguk would notice if he were doing his job and paying attention to his mark. But he’s not. 

Instead, Jeongguk watches as the other Empress marches into the room. She’s dressed unlike anyone Jeongguk has ever seen before. Instead of formal attire, Ae Ri wears what looks like battle armor. 

It’s silver and thick. The plates cover her legs, her arms, stretch around her torso in smooth, broad strokes. Her right hand’s armor is fashioned into some kind of gun-- probably useful during combat-- and she carries a matching helmet under her left arm. 

Her hair is cropped short and jet black, swept away from her face with some kind of gel. There isn’t any jewelry on her personage, but she wears the scars on her face and neck just as well. 

And she’s tall . And broad . 

(Jeongguk suddenly understands where Seokjin’s incredible proportions came from.) 

Despite all of that, Ae Ri walks with her head lightly ducked down. It’s like she doesn’t want to be here, having this party, almost as much as Jeongguk doesn’t want to be here either. She almost looks shy . The way her eyes dart about the room tells the same story. 

A wave of understanding washes over Jeongguk so intensely that for a split second, he forgets that she’s an Empress and he’s…. whatever he is. He recognizes the look in her eyes; Jeongguk’s worn it himself. 

The crowd cheers, but it’s the sound of Jimin’s voice muttering altogether too close, “Jeongguk?” that gets Jeongguk’s attention. 

Jeongguk starts. He looks down. Sure enough, there’s Jimin, looking up at him with those eyes . “Oh. Jimin,” Jeongguk coughs eloquently, because what the hell is he supposed to say to the person he kiss-and-ran-away-from and who he may or may not have some kind of FeelingsTM for? “I wasn’t expecting to-”

“Can we talk?” Jimin interrupts smoothly.

No, the sensible voice in Jeongguk’s head coaches, Say no. He needs to stay here and watch Esmerelda like he’s supposed to. This is important. They need to know what’s going on with her; Jeongguk needs to figure out if she’s really -

“Alright,” Jeongguk says. “But not for too long.” 

Jimin’s mouth tips downwards. He scowls like he’s disappointed or something. “Sure. Come on.” He nods to the door just off to the right of Jeongguk-- the one that leads to the servant’s private staircase. 

“Outside?” Jeongguk blinks. Yeah, he should really say no. Leaving is a bad idea. 

But then Jimin is piquing an eyebrow. “Did you want to talk here?” he challenges. Jimin waves a hand to all the chaos and cheering of the surrounding crowd. It’s loud, and there are too many curious ears and lingering stares for Jeongguk to feel comfortable discussing anything more life-threatening than fabric colors and salmon pâté. 

So Jeongguk just nods weakly, mumbles, “I guess not,” and watches as Jimin flounces off towards the wooden push-door. 

“Then come on. There’s an empty balcony upstairs,” Jimin calls over his shoulder. 

Jeongguk trails after Jimin as the jazz band swells back to life under Yoongi’s direction. 

Don’t go, the voice in Jeongguk’s head whispers, Do your job! 

But it’s not loud enough to convince Jeongguk to not follow Jimin past the entrance and up the creaking wooden stairs. The door shuts behind them, cuts off the light and sound of the party until Jeongguk is drenched in nothing but stiff silence and weary footsteps as they rise to the next floor.

He wants to say something-- an apology, preferably-- but nothing comes out of his mouth. Fear grips his throat too tightly. At what, Jeongguk doesn’t know, but it’s strong enough to keep him from making any kind of noise as Jimin guides them through the exit and into the night beyond. 

The stairwell opens onto a private terrace. There are a few sets of doors leading to various servant’s areas on the adjacent wall, but Jimin just walks over to the white-marble balcony. It’s covered in ivy and blooming roses, but Jimin pays it no mind. 

He leans his elbows onto the cool stone and looks out onto the courtyard below. Lights from Empress Ae Ri’s procession beam up through the darkness, and music faintly trails up from the ballroom’s open doors underneath their feet. 

Under the light of the waning moon, backlit by softly-glowing spotlights, surrounded by roses for gods’ sakes-- Jeongguk looks at Jimin and momentarily forgets how to breathe. Rational thought gets thrown out the window until all he can do is stare and wonder (genuinely wonder) why he’s purposefully gone and made such a mess of things. 

It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time until Jeongguk can move his feet again. He tiptoes closer to Jimin, stops a solid three feet away, and finds his voice. “So… what is it?” he asks, completely devoid of tact. 

Jimin snorts. “Straight to the point, then?” Jimin sighs tiredly, still not facing Jeongguk. Under his breath, he murmurs incredulous, “How can you be so straightforward about things like this and then just-” He breaks off with a defeated shake of his head. 

A lick of defensiveness shoots up Jeongguk’s spine without his permission. “Just what?” he challenges. 

“It doesn’t matter. That’s not why I’m here,” Jimin swallows whatever he’d wanted to say and turns until he can look up at Jeongguk. “I just- thought I should apologize, I guess.”

“What?” Jeongguk blinks. He’s taken aback, because if either of them should be apologizing, it should be him , not Jimin. This whole thing is because of Jeongguk’s stupidly complicated feelings, after all. 

Jimin pushes off of the balcony’s edge, shrugs. “For the other night. In the pool. I shouldn’t have… done that.” His words are framed like they should be sincere, but Jimin’s tone is flat enough that Jeongguk knows Jimin doesn’t want to be doing this at all.

With a step forward, Jeongguk starts, “Jimin, I- No. This isn’t your fault.” Guilt roils in Jeongguk’s stomach, pours off of him in waves. “I just overreacted.” 

“No. It’s clear that it’s my fault,” Jimin interrupts before Jeongguk can say anything else. He glares angrily at the terracotta ground, eyebrows pulled together. “It’s clearly me, Jeongguk, because you’re fine around everybody else. But you just- you just left. What am I supposed to think? Of course it’s me that’s the problem for you.” 

Jimin inhales deeply like he’s bracing himself. “So I’m going to give you space. From me.”

No, a voice in Jeongguk’s head screams. Something like fear spills over into Jeongguk-- a kind he hasn’t felt before. 

“You’re not the problem,” Jeongguk assures quickly. There’s desperation leaching into his voice, but for the life of him, Jeongguk can’t find it in himself to give a shit. “You didn’t mean to do anything, you-”

“I touched you in the wrong place,” Jimin fills in. He shrugs again. “I know. I noticed. I forgot for a moment about what I did to you.”

Jeongguk advances another pace. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, and he actually means it. 

Surprisingly, when Jimin snaps his head up at the words, something like irritation shines in his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize for living with the trauma, Jeongguk,” he says, crossing his arms. “But why didn’t you just tell me when you left? I would’ve been able to help you. I was there too, you know.”

“Because it’s not your problem to deal with, Jimin.” The words tilt out of Jeongguk’s mouth, coated with a kind of honesty that Jeongguk hasn’t tasted in a long time. He rides the feeling, lifts his hands to put them on Jimin’s shoulders, and adds, “And I’m- I’m sorry for leaving. Fuck , I just- I feel like I keep making mistakes and I don’t-”

Jeongguk cuts off. 

I don’t want you to keep getting hurt by them, he almost says. 

“Mistakes?” Jimin huffs. He shakes Jeongguk’s hands off. “What mistakes?” 

Jeongguk hesitates for a heartbeat. It’d be safer for him to walk away right now-- to not talk about anything so personal with Jimin-- but he can’t make his legs move. 

“The time we kissed in the dormitory, for one. And then… getting too close in general, I suppose. I knew that it was a bad idea to get too close to any of you, but I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop with you, and- I’m sorry.” 

The voice that says the words doesn’t feel like Jeongguk’s. There’s truth and sincerity in them-- both things that Jeongguk has tried to avoid for a long time. They don’t mesh well with the armor he keeps wrapped around him like chainmail. 

Out of nowhere, Jimin’s palms are on Jeongguk’s chest, shoving him back with so much force that Jeongguk stumbles. 

“I’m a mistake, then?” Jimin scowls, “Gee, thanks. I feel so much better after your apology.” Hurt drips from his mouth, and it sends Jeongguk’s pulse skyrocketing even further. 

Jeongguk shakes his head vehemently, because Jimin isn’t getting it. “That’s not what I meant,” he tries to explain, gesturing between them, “I just meant that this- this relationship we have isn’t the best idea for either of us.”

“What relationship?!” Jimin half-shouts, flinging his hands out to the side as he talks. “We don’t have a relationship, because you keep changing your mind about what you want! Sometimes you want me and sometimes you don’t and I’m- I’m sick of all the mixed signals.” 

The band below starts in on a hectic big band piece, and the cacophony of sounds only adds to the swirling nausea building in Jeongguk’s stomach as Jimin shouts.

“I can’t deal with it. Just tell me what you want from me, or- or just leave me alone so I can sort out my own feelings,” Jimin finishes with a frustrated sigh. He wraps his arms around himself, like he needs to protect himself from whatever Jeongguk’s about to say. 

It dries Jeongguk’s throat so much that he can barely croak out, “I can’t.”

“You can’t tell me?” Jimin looks disappointed. 

“No, I-”

“What?” Jimin presses. He steps further away, towards the open balcony behind him, away from Jeongguk and all of his problems. “You can’t what?” 

Don’t, the voice in Jeongguk’s head warns. You can’t go back.

But for the first time, the tightness in Jeongguk’s chest and the cold spreading through his limbs because of Jimin’s expression silences all of the protests in his head. And Jeongguk raises his voice as he cries, “I can’t want anything from you at all! Why can’t you understand that?”

Jeongguk’s chest heaves, and Jimin looks startled, but Jeongguk just licks his lips and explains, “I don’t get to have the life that I want, Jimin. Not without consequences.” 

“What are you even talking about? Why can’t you have it?” Jimin asks. Genuine confusion draws his lips into a frown. 

Because I’m a bad person, Jeongguk wants to explain, I have to be. I’ve got blood on my hands. 

But he just says, “The reason doesn’t matter; it doesn’t make a difference. You just… burn too brightly for me, Jimin. You’re like the fucking sun, and I’m just- I’m only me. I won’t be able to treat you like you deserve, Jimin, and I don’t want you t-to get hurt because of it.” 

Jeongguk hates that he stammers. He hates it, because it carries with it the indication that Jeongguk’s emotions are bubbling to the surface-- all of them-- and there’s no way that pouring out everything he’s ever thought about himself right now is going to help. 

“Are you serious?” Jimin exclaims softly. “ You’re the one who keeps getting hurt because of me .” 

Jeongguk’s eyebrows rise as he looks at Jimin, incredulous. “That’s not true. I-”

“I summoned a Necromancer,” Jimin cuts him off with a laugh. “I accidentally destroyed two planets! I got you mortally wounded and nearly got myself killed as well. All of this shit we’ve been through is on me, Jeongguk, not you .”

“I’ll let you down,” Jeongguk tries quietly. It’s a new angle, one meant to distract Jimin from the fact that he might be right. That all of these things that Jeongguk has been beating himself up for all these weeks were completely out of his control; but Jeongguk can’t deal with that right now. 

Jimin’s voice is flat and unimpressed as he echoes, “You’ll ‘let me down’.” He walks closer, stops only once he’s a foot away from Jeongguk’s chest. Tension thickens the air between them as Jimin laughs darkly, “How the hell can you stand to think that about yourself?”

He reaches up, cups Jeongguk’s jaw with his palm. “I’m so tired of you being the only person who can’t see how amazing you are, Jeongguk. How much you’ve done for everyone.” 

“I-” Jeongguk bleats out, trying to get a word in before Jimin’s touch and soft words send him spiraling out of control. 

“No, stop. Stop ,” Jimin denies firmly. “You’ve done enough, Jeongguk, and I’m finished with tolerating you thinking that you’re this big, bad, horrible person, because you’re not. You’re not .”

Jeongguk feels his heart jump into his throat. It’d be so much easier if Jimin just understood. It would be so much easier if Jimin’s words didn’t have a sickening ring of truth to them. So Jeongguk tilts backwards just enough to escape the press of Jimin’s palm and chokes out, “...I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” 

But Jimin doesn’t let him leave. He leans with Jeongguk, all the way up onto the toes of his feet. “Why can’t you just let yourself have a good thing? Why are you overthinking everything so much? What’s so wrong about this?” His voice is soft, but the words cut Jeongguk.

They hurt, because Jeongguk doesn’t have an answer. There’s just this vague understanding in the back of his head that the minute he relaxes-- that he lets his guard down and enjoys himself-- everything will come crashing down again. 

All of the mistakes of his past, all the people he’d shot, the ships he’d destroyed, and everything else he’s ever done will rain down on him. And Jeongguk is barely treading water as it is. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk apologizes again. 

A breeze rushes up the terrace, ruffles Jimin’s hair. It carries Jimin’s voice across the distance between them as he pleads, “Jeongguk. Please don’t go. Not again.”

I don’t want to, Jeongguk realizes in that moment. Just like before, the realization sends shockwaves of fear up Jeongguk’s spine. He wants to cut and run and get the hell out of here. “Jimin-”

“Just tell me what you’re thinking. I can help,” Jimin assures quietly. His other hand comes up to frame Jeongguk’s face. He tilts it down until he can capture Jeongguk’s stare easily with his own. “Please, just let me help you.”

Don’t, Jeongguk’s brain screams at him. DON’T. 

But Jimin is here, looking at him like he’s made of glass. He’s here, when he should be anywhere else, and he’s asking Jeongguk the things that no one else ever has before. And Jimin- Jimin looks like he actually cares . Like he’s worried about Jeongguk. 

That, more than anything else, is what pulls the words from Jeongguk’s throat. 

And then quietly, so soft that it’s almost indecipherable above the sound of the jazz from downstairs filtering up, Jeongguk says, “I’m thinking that I- I’ve killed people.”

Jimin doesn’t miss a single beat. “I know. I have, too,” Jimin whispers. He strokes his thumbs along Jeongguk’s cheekbones smoothly. “It still weighs on me, Jeongguk, and it should. But you had to.”

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” Jeongguk tries again. 

Like before, Jimin replies without hesitation. “Me too. It’s alright. Everybody does. Just takes some of us longer than most.” 

Of their own volition, Jeongguk’s hands find their way to Jimin’s waist. They settle there. Jeongguk notes how perfect it feels. 

“I don’t even know who I am.”

“Does anyone?” Jimin snorts. 

“I’ll hurt you.” 

Jimin shakes his head immediately. “You won’t,” he breathes, so close now that Jeongguk can feel the breath on his cheekbones. “And I’m not fragile, Jeongguk. You don’t need to worry about protecting me. I can take care of myself.”

“I will, Jimin, and I won’t even mean to. I just will, because that’s something I do,” Jeongguk says. The words hurt coming up, scraping his throat raw until Jeongguk feels like choking off into a sob. 

He restrains the feeling, but he can’t quell the hurt that rises in his chest as he inches back. “So that’s why we can’t do this, Jimin. Those are the reasons. We can’t , no matter how I feel about you.” 

“And how do you feel about me?” 

Jimin’s challenge rings in the air. It echoes along in the silence until it’s all Jeongguk can hear over the sound of his own nervous heartbeat. 

“I-”

“Tell me. Just be honest. And if you don’t feel the same way that I do, then just say so and I’ll be gone.” Jimin’s eyes are searching and bright with the tears Jeongguk knows he’s holding back. 

Jimin is preparing for rejection; Jeongguk notices in the way his lips tighten, brow pulling together. He’s waiting to hear the words that Jeongguk should say right now. He’s waiting, and he’s ready, but- 

But-

“I can’t care about you,” Jeongguk sighs. It’s not a denial, because at this point, Jeongguk doesn’t have it in him to pretend anymore. After everything-- after this night -- it’s honestly more energy than it’s worth to waste another second feigning that he’s unaffected by Jimin in the slightest. 

Hope springs to life in Jimin’s stare. “Why?” 

Jeongguk’s heart pounds as he says quietly, “Because I’m afraid that if I- if I allow myself to feel what it’s like to be with you, then I won’t be able to go back to how I lived before.” His breath hitches under the weight of the honesty as Jeongguk takes a deep breath and admits:

“I won’t be able to be alone again after you, Jimin.” 

And that’s really the truth of it, isn’t it? Because how the fuck is Jeongguk supposed to go back to sleeping in shitty hotels and getting drunk in underground bars now that he knows what it’s like to hear Jimin’s laugh and feel his lips?

Jeongguk knows he won’t survive after Park Jimin leaves. 

“Do you really think that I’d let you be alone again?” Jimin’s question is careful. He bites his lip. 

“Jimin…”

“I mean it,” Jimin insists. He lets go of Jeongguk’s cheeks and slides his hands down the swell of Jeongguk’s chest. “Nothing bad is going to happen if you let yourself be happy, Jeongguk.” 

Jeongguk looks away. “You can’t know that.” 

There’s a hand on his chin in the next heartbeat, redirecting his gaze back. And, yeah, Jimin is apparently nothing if not persistent. 

“Here. Try it,” Jimin suggests with a raised eyebrow. “Tell me something honest about yourself. Don’t worry about the cosmic consequences, either. Just say it.” 

Maybe it’s the way Jimin’s out-of-the-blue quip pulls a startled laugh out of Jeongguk’s chest; maybe it’s the fact that right here, standing in the moonlight on a balcony surrounded by roses; or maybe it’s because it’s Jimin , but for a moment-

A single moment , Jeongguk feels brave. 

And so into the near-silence of the night, the breeze whispering around him, Jeongguk finally admits, “I like you, Jimin.”

It feels like a piece of Jeongguk dissolves. The band restraining Jeongguk’s chest-- the one that used to choke him-- disappears up into the sky. It’s gone, spoken to life and forgotten. 

“See that?” Jimin grins so brightly that Jeongguk feels like he might be blinded. 

The surprising lightness in Jeongguk’s chest spreads, tugs the corners of his mouth up lightly. “What?” 

“The world didn’t end,” Jimin sing-songs, “And you like me .” 

Jeongguk groans like he’s insulted, but there’s really no going back now. He’s said too much, but for the first time it doesn’t seem to be a bad thing. Not if Jimin is still looking at him like he deserves something just for existing. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk starts to complain in faux-annoyance as the tips of his ears start to burn.

“Tell me something else,” Jimin insists. He tilts up further onto his toes, snakes his arms up and around Jeongguk’s neck enough to pull him down. 

Their foreheads touch, and Jeongguk’s heart skips. “I think that you look gorgeous,” Jeongguk mumbles. As he speaks, his grip on Jimin’s waist tightens enough to pull him closer . 

“Look at that!” Jimin beams, “The moon is still in the sky. We’re still here on solid ground. Nothing happened!” Jimin laughs, and his breath blooms across Jeongguk’s lips. “See? You can have happiness, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk huffs, but he can’t find the usual heat to put behind it. There’s nothing in his chest now-- no stone in his stomach or irritating voices in his head-- because maybe Jimin is right. Maybe the only person Jeongguk was fooling with his ‘brusque and uncaring’ facade was himself. 

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” Jeongguk scowls. 

The words do nothing to deter Jimin. He just tips his head up, asks, “Any other confessions you need to get off your chest, bodyguard?”

The nickname makes Jeongguk wrinkle his nose, but all he can say is-

“I’d really, really like to kiss you right now.” 

Jeongguk isn’t expecting Jimin to pull back, so when he does, Jeongguk feels his heart swoop. 

But Jimin’s eyes are soft when he asks carefully, “Are you sure?”

Warmth, inexplicable and sudden, surges through Jeongguk’s entire body. Because even after this conversation, even after Jeongguk’s admissions, Jimin is still considerate. It occurs to Jeongguk in the back of his mind that Jimin is thoroughly unlike anyone he’s ever met. 

So when Jeongguk smiles, it’s genuine, because he’s not scared. “I’m sure,” Jeongguk says into the night.

Jimin’s grin is dazzling. 

He leans back up, takes a quick breath, and whispers, “Then I’d really, really like that.” 

For the first time, when Jeongguk tilts his head down to brush his lips against Jimin’s, there’s no one in his head but himself. 

And then Jimin is tilting further onto his toes, craning his neck to reach Jeongguk’s mouth, and sighing softly into the kiss. His mouth opens and-

Oh, Jeongguk thinks as he feels the brush of Jimin’s tongue against his upper lip. After that, he doesn’t think anything at all. Jeongguk just lets his train of thought crash to a halt under the feeling of Jimin’s hands running across his shoulders, down his arms, back up his chest. 

Jeongguk tips his head to the side enough to deepen the kiss. He grazes his teeth lightly over Jimin’s lower lip, tugs on it once just to hear the soft little whine Jimin lets out involuntarily. It spurs Jeongguk on-- makes him lower his palms to the small of Jimin’s back. He presses their bodies together and kisses Jimin like he means it. Like he’s always wanted to. 

It sends heat shooting up Jeongguk’s spine, but then Jeongguk feels the way Jimin is swaying lightly in his hold. He pulls back to look at Jimin (ignoring the way Jimin’s lips are kissed red and his pupils are blown wide enough to make him look ethereal ). 

Are you okay? Jeongguk is about to ask. He looks down, notices the way Jimin keeps shifting his weight between his feet to stay balanced. 

Ah, Jeongguk realizes, Right. He’s almost seven feet tall; Jimin barely comes up to his shoulder. This can’t feel good for Jimin, and gods-damn-it, Jeongguk wants it to feel good . 

So without thinking, Jeongguk dips down, brings his palms to cup the back of Jimin’s thighs, and hefts Jimin up in one fluid motion. 

“Oh!” Jimin gasps against Jeongguk’s lips. His eyes darken, hands coming up to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulders. 

Like this, Jeongguk can feel all of Jimin. All of him. The searing heat at the base of his stomach flares, grows and grows until it’s dropping Jeongguk’s voice an octave as he mumbles, “Is this okay?”

“Mm,” Jimin pants back. He licks his lips. Jeongguk feels Jimin’s fingers tightening on his shoulders. “You’re just… strong. ”

Jeongguk snorts and bumps his nose against Jimin’s. “I have almost two feet of height on you. Of course I’m strong.” 

Jimin doesn’t say anything-- he just locks his ankles behind Jeongguk’s back and hums again. 

And then it clicks for Jeongguk. A smirk blooms over his face as Jeongguk squeezes Jimin’s thighs, leans in until his lips brush along Jimin’s jawline, and murmurs, “You like that, don’t you? How strong I am.” 

“Please,” Jimin tries to scoff, though it comes out a little too breathy. “No one has ever been attracted to a tall, strong, handsome man like yourself before.”

“Attractive?” Jeongguk’s smirk widens even more. 

It pulls a frustrated huff out of Jimin’s lips, even as Jeongguk starts pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat. “You know I think you’re hot,” Jimin grouses, “So shut up.”

“Make me,” Jeongguk growls playfully. He nips at Jimin’s neck.

Jimin’s back actually arches at the sensation-- and Jeongguk decides that, yeah, Jimin definitely likes this. Jimin’s mouth is back on his own, and his hands are in Jeongguk’s hair pulling and twisting until Jeongguk can’t feel anything past the pleasure of finally having Jimin like this. And with his own mind quiet, no less.

Without consciously thinking about it, Jeongguk walks them back towards the balcony’s edge. He licks along Jimin’s bottom lip, pushes into his mouth for a brief second before he sets Jimin down on the part of the ledge not currently covered with rose vines. 

Jimin grips Jeongguk’s collar. His breath comes in short little gasps when he breaks away just enough to moan, “Jeon gguk-”

Jeongguk shamelessly chases Jimin’s lips. His hands settle on Jimin’s thighs to spread them apart even further. “What’s that, sweetheart?” Jeongguk grits out over the desire clouding his mind. 

Leaning forward, Jimin drops his voice and mutters seductively against Jeongguk’s ear, “If you let me fall backwards off of this balcony, I will haunt you until the day I die.” 

Jeongguk barks out a surprised laugh. “Better hold on, then,” he teases. He can feel Jimin’s grin as it presses against his mouth. 

“ ‘Hold on’ ?” Jimin parrots with an eye-roll. “Please. You’re barely kissing me. I’m not gonna break, you know. Pull out all the stops, or I will throw myself off of this ledge.”

“But you’re tiny,” Jeongguk coos. He brings their foreheads together, watching as Jimin’s nose wrinkles endearingly. 

“I could kick your ass, and we both know it, so don’t be so gentle,” Jimin complains. He tugs once on Jeongguk’s lapels, slots them closer together. “I didn’t wait for this for so long for you to be shy.” 

Jeongguk balks, affronted. “I’m not shy!” he protests. 

With a ‘yeah, right’ huff, Jimin starts, “Sure. Is that why you haven’t-”

He cuts off in a strangled gasp as Jeongguk lets his hands trail down, gripping Jimin’s ass and squeezing. The sound sends electricity through Jeongguk’s veins; it pushes him to slot his hips closer to Jimin’s. He rolls his hips and savors the sight of Jimin’s mouth falling open in a euphoric ‘O’. 

“What were you saying?” Jeongguk taunts, but his voice sounds strangled to his own ears. Having Jimin in his hands and feeling how aroused Jimin is through his trousers is doing things to Jeongguk. He’ll be damned if he breaks before Jimin does.

But fuck does Jimin make it hard to concentrate. Somehow, Jimin manages to unbutton Jeongguk’s shirt one-handed. He opens it to the base, slides it off of Jeongguk’s shoulders, and rakes his nails down Jeongguk’s back. 

“Kiss me,” Jimin pants, hot and low, against Jeongguk’s mouth. 

Gods, Jeongguk thinks, or maybe says. It doesn’t matter-- not when Jimin is tracing the lines of Jeongguk’s abdominal muscles with his fingertips, and not when he’s pushing his tongue into Jeongguk’s mouth for him to suck on. 

And Jeongguk is only Human. 

He surges forwards, tugs Jimin against him with one hand, and uses the other to messily yank on Jimin’s tunic. Jeongguk hitches the fabric higher and higher, already frustrated with the fact that he can’t just disappear it off of Jimin’s chest. Jeongguk wants to see . He wants Jimin naked and he wants it now , even if they’re on an exposed balcony. 

When the shirt doesn’t yield, Jeongguk pops off of Jimin’s tongue to frown down at the offending garment. He spends one second debating the pros and cons of just tearing the shirt off before Jeongguk decides that fuck it, it’s worth it. 

It only takes a swipe down the front, and the shirt rips along the front seam. Buttons pop off, clinking to the floor merrily. 

Jeongguk is half-expecting Jimin to yell at him, but then Jimin’s tipping his head back and groaning so loud that Jeongguk freezes. 

“...did you…?” Jeongguk asks breathlessly. It’s hard to keep his eyes off of Jimin’s bare stomach and chest, but he manages. Barely. 

“No-” Jimin pants. He trembles against Jeongguk, rolls his hips enough to make Jeongguk hiss. “But- fuck - that was hot. Just- Jeongguk, please.” 

It’s the begging that does it. The desperation in Jimin’s voice, the sweat beading along his brow, the little furrow between his eyebrows. 

All at once, Jeongguk yanks Jimin forward and off of the balcony’s edge; at the same time, he tilts Jimin back until his shoulders are resting on the stone ledge. Jeongguk supports the rest of Jimin’s weight in his hands gripping Jimin’s hips. 

Like this, Jimin is lying on his back, staring up at Jeongguk with lust written clearly in his eyes. Jeongguk only sees it for a second though, because the moment Jeongguk starts grinding their hips together, Jimin’s eyes roll back in his head. 

“ Fuck,” Jimin curses. His hands scrabble for purchase on Jeongguk’s forearms. Jimin squeezes his thighs where they hitch around Jeongguk’s waist. 

Jeongguk’s chest heaves as the fire inside of his chest mounts. He can’t do anything but watch as Jimin writhes beneath him. Jimin is a vision dressed in the silvers of the moon’s light. 

“Come on,” Jeongguk mumbles underneath his breath-- to whom, he’s not sure. “C’mon.” 

Jimin arches off of the cool stone. “ J-Jeongguk, I’m g-gonna-” His voice cracks, close to tears. 

Chasing the feeling that licks down his spine when Jimin calls his name, Jeongguk pulls his hips back. Jimin frowns at the loss of contact, but then Jeongguk’s slamming his hips forward so forcefully that Jimin’s body inches up the railing. 

“ Ah!” Jimin yells, fingers digging half-moons into Jeongguk’s arms. 

The feeling is too intense as Jeongguk snaps his hips back and forth. It doesn’t matter that they’re both clothed, or that Jeongguk can’t do what he really wants with Jimin right now. It feels like a promise of what’s to come, and it makes Jeongguk’s head spin so much that-

He doesn’t hear when the door to the service stairwell bangs open until Hoseok is announcing loudly, “There you ar- Oh!” 

 Jimin rights himself so quickly that he must get vertigo. He clings to Jeongguk’s shoulders, hovering over empty space.

Jeongguk is aware how this must look-- Jeongguk’s half-naked, Jimin’s shirt is ruined, and they’re in… a compromising position. It takes every ounce of Jeongguk’s self-restraint to not bend Jimin back over the railing and finish what he started, but he manages not to fuck Jimin in front of Hoseok.

He’s a professional, after all. 

(But he wants to.)

Instead, Jeongguk settles for holding Jimin’s weight with one hand (strategically placed on the swell of Jimin’s ass) and white-knuckling the railing with the other. He breathes in deeply through his nose and shoots a poisonous look over his shoulder at Hoseok. 

“What.” Jeongguk grits out as he feels the arousal fading. 

“I did not mean to intrude,” Hoseok apologizes quickly. He grips the door with one hand and looks down the stairwell wistfully, like he wishes he could race back down into the safety of the ballroom. “But there is something going on with the Empress. It looks bad.”

Jeongguk’s stomach sinks as the rest of the desire in his system fizzles out. He puts Jimin down gently, already fearing the worst. “What is it?” he asks, though a voice in the back of his head already knows what’s wrong. 

“She is currently sitting in the middle of the ballroom, perfectly silent. The problem is that she has been like this for ten minutes, and no one knows what is going on.” Hoseok sends a meaningful look between the two of them. “Maybe you should continue this… session later. We require your assistance.” 

Jimin makes an embarrassed noise as he tries to haphazardly close his ruined shirt over his chest. “Oh, crap,” he rushes out, cheeks red, “I’ll be right there. I just need to-”

“Here,” Jeongguk interrupts. He shucks off his shirt easily, holds it out for Jimin to take. “Wear this one. It’s my fault yours is pretty much a rag now.” 

Jimin only hesitates for a moment, clearly realizing the benefits of having Jeongguk walk around half-naked. He takes the shirt, offers a quick ‘thank you,’ shoots one last ‘please forget this happened’ look at Hoseok, and rushes down the stairwell. 

Jeongguk moves to follow, but before he can brush past Hoseok, a hand on his shoulder stops him. 

“Excuse me, Jeongguk,” Hoseok says pleasantly. “I require a moment of your time.”

With a meaningful look at the staircase, Jeongguk starts, “Don’t we need to hurry and-”

Hoseok steps in front of Jeongguk. “I advise you to be careful with Jimin,” Hoseok says. “You are both still recovering. Do not hurt yourself unnecessarily. I do not want to see either of you dying on the floor again. I hope you understand.” 

It takes Jeongguk a moment to process. Hoseok… cares about them. So much so that he actually looks worried . The thought shouldn’t lighten Jeongguk’s chest as much as it does. 

“I understand,” Jeongguk says, clapping Hoseok on the shoulder. “The concern is appreciated. I don’t have the best track record, but…” Jeongguk breaks off to look at the stairwell where Jimin had vanished seconds ago. “But I think this could be a really good thing.”

Hoseok nods. “Me as well. And I would love for you to have all the sex you want to.”

“Maybe we could skip this part of the conversation,” Jeongguk grimaces. “We’ve got an Empress to fix. And maybe you could learn how to use contractions; you’re putting out a really murdery vibe.”

“You are quite right. We should take care of that.” Hoseok steps aside. He follows after Jeongguk as they head down the stairs. “And I have enabled my advanced grammar settings.”

Jeongguk snorts at Hoseok’s attempt at humor, because who knew that manufactured Artificial Intelligence could be so Human? 

The amusement only lasts for a minute, though-- only until Jeongguk reaches the bottom of the staircase, pushes open the door, and sees-

Esmerelda, sitting in the center of the room. Her back is perfectly rigid, and she’s surrounded by a semi-circle of concerned-looking dignitaries. Her wife is kneeled down in front of her. Ae Ri waves her hands in front of Esmerelda’s face to no avail. 

And though Jeongguk can only see the Empress’ seated back, there’s an aura of power about her that Jeongguk recognizes. The feeling of it seeps into his bones and sends his blood running cold. 

Jeongguk knows that his hunch was right even before the Empress turns her head around towards him slowly. Even as her eyes take on an almost-neon hue; even as she opens her mouth in the grimace of a smile, tips her head to the side, and coos-

“Oh, I told you I’d see you again, sugar.” 

Jeongguk’s entire body freezes. 

He didn’t want to be right. He really didn’t want to be right, but the Empress’ speed, the bone magic, the way she always happened to be in the right place at just the right time-- they all point to what Jeongguk already knew. 

She’s possessed. 

The Empress of the Earthside Galaxy-- one of two women with the most power in the entire universe-- is possessed. 

By the Necromancer. 

Jeongguk doesn’t even get a second to process before the whole room explodes into chaos. 

🌑

For five terrifying seconds, the entire world seems to move in slow motion as Jeongguk’s brain automatically snaps into hyperawareness. 

Inhale

The grand ballroom doors are swinging shut, heavy and wooden and loud. The safety of the exterior courtyard is cut off as they boom closed-- until they’re trapped. Hundreds of guests, the Empresses, Jeongguk’s crewmates, Jimin-

Exhale

Jimin, who stands only a handful of feet away, wearing Jeongguk’s shirt. He has his hands up like he’s gearing up for some kind of spell. Jeongguk watches the white light that races down Jimin’s forearms, pools in his palms, waiting to be released explosively. 

Inhale 

Jeongguk marks the locations of everyone else. Yoongi is half-standing from his drum seat across the room; Seokjin and Taehyung stand next to Ae Ri, looking down at the Empress on the floor; Hoseok is at a stand-still behind Jeongguk; Namjoon is running towards them all from the base of the large staircase. 

Exhale

The crowd surrounding Esmerelda contracts as the party-goers try to race away from the black smoke pooling out of the Empress’ open mouth. The columns of putrid black rise towards the ceiling, and then they shoot towards each and every person of power in the room.

Just like that day in the Underground on Xeada, Jeongguk watches with rapt horror as the black morphs into spears, angled dangerously towards the heads of the other kings and generals and presidents in the room.

Inhale-

And then time picks back up. 

Screams wash over Jeongguk so quickly that he doesn’t even think about what he’s doing before he’s running forwards. “Everyone, get back!” Jeongguk shouts, taking control of the room. He vaults over the body of a fainted prime minister, skids to a halt next to Jimin’s side. 

“What’s going on?” Ai Re shouts from the other side of her wife. There’s a spear of black hovering inches away from her temple, ready to silence the Empress before she’s even had the chance to remove her combat armor. She looks like she’s half a second away from rushing forward, but Seokjin’s hand on her bicep stops her. 

Seokjin, who’s also got a blackened lance aimed directly at his heart. Jeongguk can see the sweat beading along his brow. He notices the fear in Seokjin’s eyes. “Eomma, she’s-”

“Ah, Jeon Jeongguk,” Esmerelda interrupts. She stands up slowly, taking her time like her muscles ache from the exertion. “How nice to finally see you again.” She stalks towards Jeongguk like the predator she is.

And Jeongguk is expecting to feel afraid. He should be afraid-- he should be terrified of the thing that lived in Jimin’s body for so long, that tried to kill him with Jimin’s hands-- but instead, there’s just hatred. 

Pure, cold, unadulterated hatred for the Necromancer wearing the Empress’ body.

Jeongguk makes himself bigger. He stretches to his full height, posturing as he towers over the Empress below him. “I wish I could say the same,” Jeongguk practically growls. “Though this whole encounter would be substantially better if I could kill you at the end of it.”

Esmerelda laughs. 

No, Jeongguk corrects, the Necromancer. 

“My, my! Someone’s gotten more confident these past few weeks!” The Necromancer chuckles in a pleased alto. “But it is a bit of a shame that you didn’t die in that coma of yours. I had a lot riding on your early demise. Really would’ve spared me the effort of having to kill you myself.”

There’s a fiery retort ready to lilt off of Jeongguk’s tongue, but it’s Jimin who spits, “Cut the dramatic monologue. What the fuck do you want?” 

The Necromancer’s eye twitches. It makes Esmerelda cock her head slightly to the side. One of the black spears shoots down from the ceiling, stops just a hair’s breadth before Jimin’s eye. 

Jeongguk chokes on his spit, heart jumping into his throat, but Jimin doesn’t so much as flinch. He just lowers his hands and lets the magic building along his forearms fizzle out. 

“Still such a good boy, aren’t you, Jimin?” The Necromancer croons. It steps Esmerelda forward, reaches out her hand to trail fingertips down Jimin’s jawline. “We really had a blast together, didn’t we? All the blood we had on our hands. Do you remember trying to kill Jeongguk together? That was my favorite of our memories.” 

Jimin stiffens. His jaw clenches so tightly that Jeongguk’s half-worried he’s going to break it. But Jimin just balls his fists up and grits out, “Shut up, old man.” 

The Necromancer tuts in disapproval. “No manners as usual. Such a shame, considering how perfect your body was for me,” it sighs, turning away to shoot a glance back at Ai Re. “But this one isn’t too bad, either,” it croons teasingly, “We’ve definitely had some fun together in this one, too.” 

“ You-” Ai Re starts to shout. 

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Esmerelda sighs. With a flick of her fingers, all of the spikes in the room rush inches closer to their targets. As screams ricochet around the ballroom, she grins, “I do believe that I’m in control right now.” 

From the edge of the circle surrounding both Empresses, Namjoon swallows hard. He doesn’t have one of the spears pointed at his head, but he’s blanched white enough to look like he does anyway. “What do you want?” he chokes out. 

The Empress scoffs. “What I’ve always wanted,” the Necromancer drawls. It gestures Esmeralda’s arms around the crowded room, to all of the people surrounding her. “Bodies. Souls . The power of the gods-- and for me .” 

A laugh, terrible and dark and poisonous, rips out of her throat. “I want it all! I was sealed away for so long . I had so much time to plan. And, I must say, it is going swimmingly so far.” 

Looking around the room, Jeongguk has the sinking realization that the most powerful Fae, Humans, and Others in the Galaxy are gathered right here. All in one neat, tidy spot; all of them ripe for the taking. 

And it suddenly makes sense. The impromptu party, the necessity to wait until Ai Re returned home, the pressure to make Seokjin and the crew stay behind for the festivities-- all to gather everyone who could raise a finger against the Necromancer into one little package. 

Jeongguk’s throat dries, and his fingers twitch like they want to grab for a gun that’s not there, but he makes himself ask, “Who are you?”

“Me? I thought you’d never ask!” the Necromancer bares its teeth. “Pin Ujin.”

The name means nothing to Jeongguk, but he sees how Yoongi’s face goes slack from across the room. He can hear the shocked gasp that Jimin lets out. 

Ujin cackles. “I am a god! In the absence of your weak idols, I am the only god still alive. And I see such interesting things in this body’s mind,” he smirks, “So many secrets. So. Many. Secrets.” 

He maneuvers Esmerelda’s body around until it’s facing Jeongguk head on, and then Ujin croons from her mouth, “Like the coordinates on the back of your neck, for instance. Oh, it would be so fun to see you arrive on that planet! It’s almost a shame that I have to kill you where you stand.” 

Jeongguk’s heart stops for a moment. He knows something. Ujin knows something, and Jeongguk takes an involuntary step forward.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Ujin teases as the black spears advance further, until they’re mere millimeters away from snuffing the life out of all of the rulers in the Galaxy. 

Ujin turns in a slow circle, relishing in the fear coating the room. He inhales deeply like he can smell the terror pouring out of the corners of the ballroom. “It’s almost funny how woefully unprepared you all were for this. I suppose fame and power doesn’t translate to intelligence, now does it?” 

He advances, wagging one of Esmerelda’s fingers disparagingly at Jeongguk. “I’m especially disappointed in you, sir,” Ujin chastizes with a pout. “You knew for days , and yet you did nothing to prepare for this eventuality. You didn’t even tell the others!”

“ What?!” Namjoon screeches from across the circle of bodies. 

Jeongguk feels the hatred in his chest expand to the point where it feels like it’s going to rip clean out of his throat. “I wasn’t sure,” Jeongguk tries to defend, but it’s not entirely true. Deep down, he was sure. He was just distracted. 

Distracted by all of the words he didn’t say to Jimin, and worse-- the ones that he did say. Which is exactly what Jeongguk was afraid of having happen in the first place. He relaxed and now they’re here. Staring down at a Necromancer powerful enough to make Yoongi look weak. 

Jimin shoots Jeongguk a pleading glance like he can tell what Jeongguk is thinking to himself. 

Seokjin’s hissed words are louder. “You knew?” he growls, “This is my mother, Jeongguk. And you didn’t think that it would be important to-”

“Oh, please. Get off of your high horse, Your Highness,” Ujin rolls Esmerelda’s eyes in irritation. He whips around to face the crown prince. “You know secrets, too. You and…” the Necromancer trails off, eyes finding their way to Taehyung’s shocked face. “ Him. And boy, are there some juicy ones. Tell me, Your Majesty, how is the observation project turning out?” 

Seokjin’s face turns red with rage. The vein on his forehead jumps. “Shut up,” he seethes despite the spike angled dangerously at his temple. 

“That’s no way to speak to your mother, now is it?” Ujin clicks his tongue. 

And Jeongguk has the realization that, with Ujin angled partially away from him like this, he’s got an opening. A small, probably hopeless one, but an opening nonetheless. And if the fate of the entire Galaxy is resting on every little thing that Jeongguk does or doesn’t do, well then-- he has to take the shot. 

Jeongguk tenses, ready to spring across the distance and slam one of the Earthside Empresses to the ground. But then he feels Jimin’s stare on him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin shakes his head almost imperceptibly. 

Wait, he mouths. 

Jeongguk doesn’t know what surprises him more: the fact that he listens to Jimin’s advice, or the fact that he apparently trusts him enough to do it without any hesitation. So Jeongguk eases his stance. 

The timing is perfect, because in the next breath, Ujin is turning Esmerelda’s body back around to look at Jeongguk. Slowly, as though savoring the flavor of the words, Ujin sneers, “Is he performing well enough, Crown Prince? How’s Jeongguk doing on your assessment?” 

His eyes flicker to Taehyung as Jeongguk feels his stomach drop. “Or maybe I should ask you,” Ujin hums. 

“Don’t.” Taehyung’s voice comes out dark and thicker than Jeongguk’s ever heard before. 

It occurs that something is very, very wrong. But no matter what Jeongguk is feeling-- beyond the curiosity and hurt and potentially world-shattering realizations-- there are bigger things to deal with. 

Jeongguk swallows it all back down. Tucks it away in time to hear Ujin chortle. 

“But we’d all feel so much better with all of our secrets out in the open, wouldn’t we? I mean, really, how long did you think that you could hide the fact that Jeong-”

Ujin turns to face Taehyung completely. The Empress’ back stares at Jeongguk, and Jeongguk feels adrenaline drop into his system as he looks over at Jimin and-

GO, Jimin mouths. 

So Jeongguk goes. 

Jeongguk moves so quickly that he’s little more than a blur to everyone else in the room. In one heartbeat, he’s standing near Jimin, watching for an opening; in the next, Jeongguk is slamming full-force into the Empress. 

Ujin shrieks through Esmerelda’s mouth as they go cascading to the floor. Surprised shouts echo through the ballroom as Jeongguk rolls them over. He straddles the Empress’ waist, hands pressed hard on her shoulders to keep her from moving. 

“We need the tome!” Namjoon yells a half-second later. “Now!” 

Yoongi crashes out of his drum seat, sends his snare clattering to the floor. Out of his breast pocket, he produces the tome. It’s worn and just as sinister-looking as the first time that Jeongguk laid eyes on it. 

Frankly, it’s a miracle that Yoongi is the only one out of their entire group paranoid to keep the book on him at all times. Jeongguk counts it as a blessing as Yoongi speeds across the room, pushing through bodies to get close enough to hand the tome to Jimin. 

“You little pests,” Ujin screams, writhing under Jeongguk’s hold as Yoongi rushes in. Gasps rise from the guests, and from his peripheral vision, Jeongguk watches as the black spikes rear back as though they’re getting ready to strike. “You-”

And maybe it’s because there’s more at stake than just himself right now, or the fact that the lives of everyone in the room depend on Jeongguk, but Jeongguk doesn’t let himself think about what he’s about to do. On the next exhale, Jeongguk pulls his arm back, balls his hand-

And punches the Empress right across the jaw. 

Oh, Jeongguk thinks as her head lolls to the side, unconscious. Huh. He just knocked out an Empress. 

Wild, he decides. 

“Did you just punch my mother?!” Seokjin squawks in distress. He rushes towards Esmerelda as the spikes of black smoke dissolve into the air. 

Jeongguk turns, shock raising his eyebrows to his hairline. He blinks. “I-”

“It doesn’t matter!” Yoongi shouts, apparently the only one still living under the reality that there is a Necromancer in the room. “We don’t have time for me to perform an exorcism, so grab the fucking book and use that fucking spell to banish it, Jimin!” 

He hands the tome off to Jimin, who fumbles the ancient book for a few tense seconds. “Okay, okay, okay,” Jimin chants under his breath. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as he searches for the right page. “Gods, where is it?!”

“See, this is why I suggested that we bookmark the right page,” Taehyung groans unhelpfully from across the room. “For convenience.” 

Jimin shoots him a venomous glare. “I am trying my best here, alright? I just-”