Chapter Text
There are cicadas chirping outside, a constant herald to the season of summer. Thankfully, it's almost impossibly cool inside the shop. Seokjin doesn't think he could have dealt with both the heat and the noise — he's always thought the sound of cicadas makes the forest sound like it's screaming.
He's waiting, like he always is. Although, this time he's not sure what he's waiting for. The knowledge of this doesn't worry him though. He's long accepted that things will happen whenever they do. It's how he tends to keep a straight face when something surprising happens.
(Other than when confronted with a jump scare of course. But Seokjin isn't talking about those sort of surprises.)
“Hey. Sorry, did you wait long?” A voice sounds by his ear — a presence where there had been none earlier.
Seokjin doesn't move his gaze, only closes his eyes, gathering himself. “A little, but that's alright. I was waiting anyway. I think. Come, sit.”
There's a little snort, but then there's the sound of a chair being dragged, so Seokjin presumes his request is being followed. “Hah, you're more and more cryptic these days, hyung. Is it a sign of old age?”
Seokjin opens his eyes, turning his head to the sight of an all-too familiar boxy grin. There's deepened lines in his face, and a slight shimmer when he runs a hand through his hair, giving away the presence of silver roots. But as they've always given him flak for, Taehyung looks ridiculously youthful for a man already past the age of 50.
There's a moment, almost too surreal, like the world is about to tip onto its side. But then Seokjin sucks in a breath and says, “excuse you? Are you really making old man jokes? You? Whenever people see us together, they keep asking me if I'm your son. As if you'd be able to give birth to a son as good-looking as me.”
“Hey. I would totally give birth to a son as good-looking as you.” Taehyung pats his belly and then his hips before saying, “as you can tell, this is all first class birthing equipment if someone ever made a way for men to have a womb.”
Seokjin rolls his eyes and doesn't say that there has always been a way. Just that it's really messy, forbidden, painful and usually ends in deaths. Seokjin doesn't like to think about it. “Hecate, your mouth spouts weirder and weirder things each day that passes.”
Taehyung laughs, the sound warm and deep, “I try.”
“Just drink your tea.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, primly picking up his own cup to drink. And Taehyung laughs yet again.
They sip in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the tea Seokjin had brewed. But never having been one to keep quiet for too long, Taehyung breaks it after three sips of his tea. “So, it's been a while, huh?”
Seokjin's lips quirk a little, but there's a slight wistfulness in his eyes, “not exactly. But long enough. Enough that there's been quite a bit of change.”
“Oh?” Taehyung straightens, and there's the slightest hint of unease now on his face. “Is… everyone alright?”
Seokjin blinks in confusion before he smiles, shaking his head. “Oh, no. Everyone's fine. Great in fact.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Seokjin nods, thinking a little. “Jimin and Jisoo just went for a new class the other day. Or rather Jisoo went for a new class and dragged Jimin along. They went for flower arrangement. Can you believe it?”
Taehyung snorts, “and let me guess, Jimin spent the entire class actually doing the activity seriously, while Jisoo ended up gossiping more than anything else.”
“Like they always do.” Seokjin snorts, “Jimin actually kind of fell in love with it. He made me set him up with a couple of florists and he's been shoving his creations at anyone who is naive enough to ask about them.”
Taehyung looks over at a small white vase near the window sink and the oddly asymmetrical bamboo and lily arrangement sticking out from it. “Sounds like first hand experience.”
“Actually, that's the one Jihu made. She followed her parents to this one because Jimin has been complaining about his back.” Seokjin chuckles, “I don't see her very much nowadays. She’s pretty busy with managing all the locations of Janggan Mandujib these days.”
“So she's fully taken over? Didn't she just turn 23?”
“Yeah, graduated early. High honours too.”
“Damn,” Taehyung leans back, impressed. “Well, she is her father's daughter after all.”
“She's definitely more like Jimin. Except for the fact she never gets off her tab. Just like her mother.”
“And the fact she knows everyone who is anyone, and any gossip worth knowing. Which reminds me, how is Hosung? Any progress with that crush of his?”
“Hecate, he's still stinking every inter-clan meeting with UST, making googly eyes at that Park Clan boy. You'd have thought his father was Jeongguk, not Hobi.”
“To be fair, Hoseok didn't start showing how much game he had until his thirties. But wow,” Taehyung whistles, “I was so glad me and Guk had moved out by then, because the complaints Jae had whenever we went over for dinner. Man, they were wild.”
“I had to extract some weird dildo from Junhong’s ass while Hyerin and Hoseok stood by and laughed, Taehyung. I know plenty how wild they were.” Seokjin says dryly.
“Oh right, I'd forgotten about that.” Taehyung chuckles before his expression falls a little. “It's still too bad that… they didn't have more years together.”
Seokjin sucks in a breath at that, hands curling into his lap. “Mmm…” Seokjin agrees. Even after so long, thinking about it still makes the anger burn bright. He can still picture the day, watching as the light had faded from Hoseok’s gaze right before his eyes. “I don't think Junhong and Hyerin will ever get over it. I mean, sure, Junhong is used to losing people to the years, being an immortal like Hyosang. But well…”
“Not like that.” Taehyung breathes out, “for what it's worth, he's at peace now.”
“I know.” They'd done a risky ritual back then after all, so that Hoseok could say goodbye to his family — his lovers and all his children.
“No— I meant—” and Taehyung shakes his head then, glancing over at Seokjin. “Nevermind. Yes. His children doing well?”
“All fifteen of them.” Seokjin reports, “Jaekwan’ll be graduating from grade school this year. Oh! And Mina passed her bar exam just last week.”
Taehyung grins, “wow. That's… She's always wanted that, to become a lawyer to help represent supernatural creatures in court.”
“Well, she's discovered it's mostly grunt work, and filling out a lot of insurance forms for accidental supernatural damage. But she still seems as enthused as ever.”
“Man… to think that's the same cute, little Mina who used to body slam into me to ask me to do her pigtails.” Taehyung sighs, “they all grow up so fast.”
Seokjin gives Taehyung a look. “Wow, I can't imagine how that would feel like.”
“And wow that was really bitter, hyung.” Taehyung chuckles, “it's not our fault we have to something as necessary as aging.”
“Mmm… doesn't stop me from blaming you guys though.”
“No, it doesn't.” Taehyung agrees with a smile, “but the Lee Clan are okay.”
“More than okay. They're fantastic. It's why Yoongi and I decided it would be the best time to leave.”
Taehyung stills, his cup pausing mid-way to his lips, and slowly, he places it back down with a click. “...You've talked about closing MANA before, but somehow I've never taken it seriously.”
There's a small, wry smile on Seokjin's face. “You've heard stories about witches before I'm sure. Witches that stay in one place tend to get killed.”
“Those tend to be bad witches though.”
“You'd have to make the witches bad to justify killing them.” Is Seokjin's quiet but truthful reply. “Not all of them, but enough of them.”
Taehyung is quiet for a long, long time. And then he finally looks up, a resigned but peaceful expression in his eyes. And Seokjin almost figures Taehyung would just say something sentimental, but what Taehyung says instead is, “please tell me that the stuff you told Hobi-hyung about Hansel and Gretel is true and not some elaborate joke just to scare him.”
Seokjin blinks before he bursts out into a laugh, “seriously?”
“Seriously,” Taehyung nods, “because I was just as terrified by the story as he was. If it's all been an elaborate joke, I might just have to disown you, hyung.”
“Well, luckily you're not going to need to figure out the logistics on how to do that, because that story is true. The witch in Hansel and Gretel really was a dark witch, and hunters did save the two kids.” Seokjin grins in amusement, and after a while, they're both laughing yet again.
“Right, so everyone is okay and you're going to be closing MANA.” Taehyung says once the giggles have (mostly) died down. “Have you told them all yet?”
“I—” Seokjin sighs, “yeah. I mean, they realized after a while that we really weren't joking about leaving. So they've sort of accepted it. Even Haru. Although, I've lost count of the number of times she's tried to convince us not to leave.”
“And it didn't work?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, intrigued.
“It worked. For… a while.” Haru is well-known for being even more absurdly commanding than her mother was. “But, well, we've already dallied way longer than we should have.”
“Mmm.” Taehyung nods, before his eyes meet Seokjin's, expression terrifyingly thoughtful. “It was for Jeongguk wasn't it?”
“...What?”
“The reason why you stayed so long.” Taehyung says simply, “you told me this before actually. All those years ago when you first told me I was a medium. I didn't think much of it back then. But you stayed because werewolves have statistically short lives and you wanted to make sure that Jeongguk would live a full and long one.”
There's no point denying it. “A lot of it was the Lee Clan and… you, of course. But… yes. You're right.”
“Mmm… you're not going to do it for Seunghun?”
Seokjin tenses a little.
Seunghun is the young werewolf that Haru had adopted after they'd found him wandering around the streets at night when he was eight years old. Seokjin, Yoongi, Jeongguk and Taehyung had all tried to be fair and equal to all the children and grandchildren born and adopted into the Lee Clan, but there is no denying that the four of them had taken a special shine to Seunghun.
“I… can't.” Seokjin finally says, fingers digging into the material of his pants. “I wish I could… but I can't.”
Most would see his words selfish, thinking Seokjin running away because he needed to protect himself more. Taehyung knows better, “this is one of those… the universe would go bonkers if you stayed things isn't it?”
Seokjin’s silence is answer enough.
Taehyung sighs, looking up. “That sucks. But… you'll figure it out. Right, hyung?”
Seokjin does have a plan figured out. But it's a plan with a lot of what-ifs and maybes and could bes, and it's a plan that hinges a lot on things that Seokjin can't control. So he only shrugs before he looks away, “...how's Jeongguk?”
Taehyung doesn't even seem phased by the change of topic. “Hmm… depends.”
“Depends? On?”
“Whether you're still pretending that I'm not already dead, of course.”
A beat. A pause. And then a sigh.
“You could have clued me in,” Seokjin grumbles, giving Taehyung the stink eye. “I wasn't sure and I didn't want you to panic. You'd have destabilised the dream.”
“I know,” Taehyung laughs. “I remember. But it was fun seeing you squirm a little.”
“I squirm plenty whenever I'm with my teacher. You just always never stayed around to see it.”
“Can you really blame me?” Taehyung snorts, “being in the vicinity of the two of you together is like asking to become collateral damage.”
“We have plenty enough control that we wouldn't drag anyone into our fights.”
“Uhuh.”
Seokjin can tell that Taehyung is thinking about the toad incident. “That was one time!”
“Uhuh.” Taehyung smirks a little. “Tell that to Seungkwan.”
Seokjin sighs. “One time,” he mumbles yet again under his breath.
“Anyway,” Taehyung takes pity on him, changing the topic. “Seems like this dream is pretty stable, even though I know that I'm already dead. I guess you could count our experiments a success?”
Seokjin takes in a small, hesitant breath. “I suppose you could…”
“I'm sensing a ‘but'.”
“But,” and Seokjin huffs a little there, “for one thing, the stability of this dream could be because of your spirit's natural ability to traverse into limbo as a medium. Other spirits may not be able to do so so easily. And second—”
“You have no idea if this is actually real. If I'm—” and Taehyung gestures at himself, “—actually real. Or just a figment of your imagination.”
“A very convincing one,” Seokjin allows. “But magic has always allowed me to do rather marvellous things.”
“Except confirm that this dream is real.” Taehyung chuckles pushing his chair back, legs swinging back and forth. And it would have been a rather strange sight, seeing a nearly fifty year old man do it, except Taehyung isn't fifty anymore. His hair is dark and messy like he hadn't bothered doing much but run his hand through it right after getting out of bed; the lines missing from his face as he smiles up at Seokjin. The only thing that is the same is the bright twinkle in his eyes.
“Yeah.” Seokjin answers with a fond smile. He remembers the outfit Taehyung is wearing — he'd worn it the day Seokjin had told him he was a medium. “Kinda hard when my only way of telling is the one in doubt after all.”
Taehyung sighs at that, shifting in his seat. “Mm. I suppose.”
They sit in silence for the longest time, and Seokjin counts the seconds before he turns to raise an eyebrow. “Well? Spit it out?”
And Taehyung bursts out like he's been holding back a dam. Seems like death really doesn't change a person after all. “I'm just— I just wanted to tell you that Jeongguk is much happier now. No more pain, no more worrying that he might accidentally kill someone while he's in his other form. But I— I suppose it doesn't really make a difference even if I do.”
And Seokjin's eyes soften, even as he reaches out, hand squeezing Taehyung's arm. “Hey. That's… that's really great. It's… it's a relief to hear that even if I can't confirm for sure if it's true or not. So… don't blame yourself for not being able to help me all the way for our experiments, alright?”
“I didn't say anything about that.” But Taehyung’s voice is so weak, it doesn't even fool himself. “I just… don't want you to be sad, hyung.”
“And I'm not,” Seokjin's hand automatically goes up to ruffle Taehyung's hair. He suddenly realized he hadn't done it in a while, probably unconsciously taking note of Taehyung's older age as him being less welcoming of hair ruffles. “I've lived through the lifetimes of plenty of people, Taehyung. If I didn't know how to deal with it, I'd always be a mourning, depressed mess.”
“Maybe you are and you're just really good at hiding it— ow. Okay, okay. Got it.” Taehyung sighs, “but it's still kind of sad if you think about it.”
“Taehyung, you can't blame yourself for dying. I mean, sure, 82 years old is a little young in this day and age, but no one was surprised when you passed a few days after Jeongguk did.”
“What? No, no. Hecate, hyung. I'm not blaming myself for dying. I'm just saying it's a bit of a shame because we got so close to figuring this spirit dream communication thing, and you've got a really stable session right now, but now you might never ever prove if it’s really working or not.”
“Well, I wouldn't say never.”
Taehyung had gotten much better over the years with decoding vague and cryptic conversation, if only because he’d been subjected to it for a ridiculous amount over the years. Still, he squints at Seokjin. “I feel like you're hinting at something. Are you hinting at something?”
“Hecate. Yes, Taehyung. I am hinting at something.” Seokjin shakes his head, “after the next two days are over, the first thing Yoongi and I are going to do is check out this rumour in Las Vegas — about a young boy putting on some kind of spirit show and the special effects being very convincing.”
“Huh.” Taehyung leans forward, tapping his fingers in the table. “That's fast. It's been, what? A year since my death?”
“Oh you…” Seokjin’s eyebrow furrows, “does time pass the same in death?”
“What?” Taehyung blinks before he shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe it does, but I've totally lost track. Nah. I did the maths. Because you said Jaekwan was graduating from grade school. And he was 12 last year, so that means a year must have passed. But… A year. That's pretty fast for a medium to pop out after the death of the old one.”
“We've only ever theorized that a strong medium is born one at a time and years apart.” Seokjin points out, “for all we know there could have been countless other mediums out there and we just didn't know about them.”
“Maybe,” Taehyung allows. “Or maybe something big is going to happen. And you, as usual, are going to be caught in the center of it.”
“You're confusing me with my teacher.” Seokjin snorts.
“Mmm… are you going to set a shop up in Las Vegas?”
“A shop?”
“Yeah. Like MANA. But, maybe a cornerstore in the dark, dank alleyways of Koreatown. You could sell tea this time! And dress up in like, traditional Korean hanbok. You looked really good in one that time when you wore it to Jimin and Jisoo’s wedding.”
“Or I could open a K-pop store. Sell bootleg merchandise, wear a cringey girl group fandom shirt everyday.”
“Also a good plan.” Taehyung seems far more excited for this than Seokjin ever will be. “I bet that after a while, the fangirls will start going to your shop for more than just the boy bands though. And then maybe you get famous enough that you get scouted by several agencies.”
Seokjin lets out a huff of breath from his noise that sounds a little like incredulity. But what he says is, “that… does sound like fun. I guess. Do you think I should open another shop?”
Taehyung pauses, the wheels in his head turning until they click. “You say that like you didn't plan to open a shop, hyung.”
It feels oddly like he's in a confession booth with a priest right now, the urge to scratch at his chest rising with the sudden guilt he feels. “I— well. No. I wasn't. The shop thing… it's unusual for witches, because after the first time we tie our power to the land, we usually get dependent on the extra power doing so gives us, but…”
“I guess you could say it's the influence of my teacher. Whatever,” Seokjin makes a dismissive wave. “But I've always prefered roaming around, going wherever my feet take me. Meeting new people, seeing new sights. Stay at one place for a while until the urge to move again overcomes me.” Rinse and repeat.
“Oh. Okay.” Taehyung blinks before he tilts his head. “I never knew that. But that's cool. Why do you sound so guilty about it?”
“...I can help more people if I bind myself to a location. Boost in power aside, people will… you know, be actually able to know where to find me.”
“But, you prefer to wander around, don't you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then wander around. You don't need to have a shop to be able to help people. You are the shop. And yeah, okay, maybe people will be able to find you easier. But it doesn't mean you'll be helping more people than if you were staying put.”
“How’d you figure that out?”
“You're the one with the experience on how the universe works. I presumed you'd know that you'll be able to help those who truly do need your help, maybe even because of your wandering around.”
Equal opportunities. That's how it works. Seokjin might not be able to meet some people wandering around. But in the years he's stayed rooted in Korea are forsaken opportunities as well. People he could have helped.
Seokjin has magic. But there's always a limit and a price to what magic can do.
“Okay. Okay.” Seokjin breathes out, before laughing with a shake of his head. “Jeez, what's with this role reversal? Does being dead make you wiser or something?”
“Maybe.” Taehyung kicked his legs again before leaning forward, chair landing on all fours with a loud click. “Or maybe we're more selfish in death.”
“Wha—”
“If you're stuck on the other side of the world, it's gonna be a long time before you come back here again.” Taehyung grins as he pushes the chair back from the table to stand. “And I’d prefer if you check in on the Lee Clan once in a while. Make sure everyone’s okay.”
Seokjin blinks before he snorts. “I would have, you know. Eventually.”
“Like, two generations later?” Taehyung’s grin widens, but there's no bite to it, only genuine amusement. “Oh wait, no. You're gonna try to help Seunghun. So you probably will have to come back within the next 20 years. But well, if not for that, I wouldn't have made a bet against myself.”
“I'm not that bad.” Seokjin mumbles, but who is he kidding? If Yoongi were here, he'd probably have snorted. “But alright, I swear to you that I'll return soon, check up on all your adorable nieces and nephews, and grand-nieces and nephews. Oh, yeesh. That was a mouthful.”
“It was, and good. I'll hold you to that promise then.” Taehyung reaches out to grasp Seokjin's hand, pulling the witch up into a tight hug. “And I know you don't do the mourning thing. But I'd love a visit every now and then too.”
Seokjin's lips curl, even as he leans into the hug. “I could probably do it from wherever I am. Besides, I have this odd feeling that if this is all real, and you really wanted to, you'd be able to reach me anyway.”
Somewhere, there seems to be something ringing. The cicadas have gone quiet.
“That is an odd feeling.” Taehyung laughs, and gives Seokjin one last squeeze before he pulls away. “I won't say goodbye, because we'll be meeting again.”
“That sounds kind of foreboding you know?” Seokjin jokes, because if he doesn't, he thinks he's probably going to cry — dream or not. “Like I might die soon.”
“Nah.” Taehyung tucks his hands into his pockets, hair flopping a little as he shakes his head. “Doubt Yoongi-hyung would allow that. You two are gonna be together forever. Or, at least for a very long time from now.”
The ringing has gotten yet closer, and Seokjin can see out of the corner of his eye, the colours of his teacup melding together.
“We've already been together for a very long time.” Seokjin replies, pretending still that he has all the time in the world. “And how would you know? You're a medium, not a soothsayer.”
Taehyung winks, “maybe death gives me clairvoyance? But you know the saying, dead men tell no lies. So, trust me. You and Yoongi-hyung — old married couple goals for eternity.”
“Yah. Brat. If you want to give compliments, give a proper one. Back-handed ones don't count.”
“Never,” Taehyung sticks out a tongue at Seokjin before he turns around. They're no longer in MANA’s pantry — their surroundings gone all weird and wobbly and grey. “See you around, hyung.”
“See you around, Tae.” Seokjin says just as everything turns black.
~*~
The first thing Seokjin sees when he opens his eyes is a very furry black feline butt.
“What the fuck, Yoongi?”
“Oh. You're awake.” The pressure on his chest shifts, and now bright golden eyes peer at him. “That's good.”
“What do you mean ‘that's good’. And you still haven't answered my question.”
“Well, you were asleep for about four hours.” and if Yoongi were in his human form, he'd probably wrinkle his nose. “I got bored.”
Four hours? “Oh.” Then, “damn. No wonder I'm so sore.”
Yoongi snorts, and Seokjin yelps when he feels Yoongi's paw on his jaw, poking at one of dark marks littered there. “You sure that's not the seventeen rounds of sex we did.”
Seokjin grimaces, making a face as he bats Yoongi's paw away. “Yah, where has that paw even been. I'm gonna get pimples. And why are you complaining?”
“You have like ten spells on your face specifically so that you'll never get so much as a freckle, let alone a pimple. And I'm not complaining. Just amused. Who would have known the release of energy after breaking a contract with the land would result in ridiculous levels of horniness?”
“Not me. Obviously.” Seokjin snorts, “or I wouldn't have organized that farewell party and invited everyone and their mothers over when I did the honours.”
“Haru enjoyed herself at least. Apparently she spent the rest of the night scandalizing all the youngsters by doing a running commentary on our sex noises after I hauled you to our bedroom. Jihu said that Seunghun didn't lift his face out of his hands the entire night.”
“Of course, she did.” Seokjin shook his head before pushing Yoongi off his chest. “Come on, get off. You said it’s been four hours, which means Jae’s probably panicking—”
“Oh my fucking god, you really are napping under a tree in a cemetery. I thought Minghao was being the little shit he was and just shitting me when he said you were here after scrying for you. But no, for once he’s actually being truthful. What the fuck?”
“Language, Jae.” Seokjin grins as he looks up. He groans a little as he stretches, back cracking. Even if he still looks as young as ever, Seokjin does feel the age slowly creeping into his bones, slowly but surely. “What if someone saw the important and dignified ‘Elder Jae’ swearing his head off and in a panic?”
“Then they'd know it's because a very annoying witch drove him to it.” Jae says snippily before he groans, pushing his glasses up from where they'd slid down. They're proper square frames rather than the hipster glasses he used to sport up till around 40 years ago, about around the time when he’d started getting more and more responsibilities as the oldest member of the clan. The glasses switch is the result of necessity: because looking like Chicken Little isn't the best way to get people to respect you. “Seriously, Jin. You're up in ten minutes and there's a shit ton of people waiting for you to make a touching speech for Taehyung and Jungkook’s one year death—”
A moment, and Jae’s annoyed expression stutters into pain before it slides back firm again. “—death anniversary. So could you get your ass up?”
Seokjin sighs, but he does push himself up, hands dusting off the light blue suit he's wearing. It'd probably be all smeared with dirt, grass and leaves if not for the charms sewn into the lining of its sleeves. “Alright. My ass is up. Sheesh. I can't believe I have to give two speeches in a day.”
“Hey, you totally skipped the media circus that was two hours ago. Be grateful.” Jae snorted, rolling his eyes. “Some of the hounds were ridiculous, still shitting on Tae’s and Kook’s relationship even though it's freaking 2078.”
“Well, then you should be grateful I skipped the gallery exhibition then. I would have totally hexed some of them there and then.”
“I don't know. At some point I kind of wished you were there to do it.” Jae sighed, “I already have to deal with the worry that one of the reporters might actually dig up that half of Taehyung’s photography trips were for his medium stuff. I don't need the added stress of that kind of nonsense. Why did Tae have to go and become all famous like that?”
“As he would tell you, he ‘didn't mean to’.” Taehyung’s success as a photographer hadn't been one of overnight fame. He'd grown that reputation slowly and steadily, taking pictures as more and more clients began to help to spread the quality of his photos, until enough people knew about him. Enough, that more than a couple of galleries that Taehyung had been affiliated with had wanted to do a posthumous exhibition on his one year death anniversary. It’s an almost funny juxtaposition against Taehyung’s private life really.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Alright. I gotta get back. Need to make sure everyone in the Kim Clan are accounted for, and make sure that no one has snuck off to try to steal Taehyung's diaries.” Jae rolled his eyes, running a finger against his temple. “No idea why they want those books filled with chicken scratch when we've made most those contents mostly available to the supernatural public. But there you go.”
“Other than the fact that Taehyung is literally the most famous medium since Marie Laveau?” Seokjin knew that Jae had been flinging rhetoric, but that made it all the more fun to answer. “They don't trust that we've really given them everything. Duh.”
“Oh shut up.” Jae sniffs affectedly as he begins to walk away again, towards the gravesite where a huge crowd had gathered. His phone buzzing again. Jisoo or Jihu must be calling. “Five minutes!”
“You know, you could totally give this speech.” Seokjin looks down accusingly at Yoongi, who pads along the ground beside him. “You're actually way better at public speaking than I am.”
The black Shorthair tilts his head, almost in a smile. “I could,” he agrees.
“But you won't.” Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair and making sure all his hair charms are in place.
“Nope.” And there's the shortest of pauses before the softest ruffle of paper — the soft but crinkly kind, the kind you'd only see at a gift shop or florist. “Don't forget the flowers.”
Seokjin looks over where the bouquet they'd prepared lies, propped up against the root of a tree. The flowers are still fresh — unnaturally so. Lilies and sunflowers with their petals still dewy in the odd combination, wrapped in an array of tea roses and zinnias and sprigs of fir.
It's a bouquet meant to say goodbye.
“I don't know if I should give this anymore.” Seokjin says as he picks it up. “Apparently, Taehyung doesn't think it'll be the last time I'm seeing him.”
“He told you that in the dream seance? That's ominous.”
“I told him that too.” Seokjin laughed, cradling the bouquet in the crook of his arm. “He told me that you wouldn't have allowed me to die so fast. Said we'd be a crotchety, married old couple for eternity.”
“Well, he's not wrong.”
“Mmm…” Seokjin hums as stares out into the distance, at the mass of people dressed in white. It's been five minutes. Haru’s speech is probably about done. She'd certainly have words with him if he delays any longer and she has to help him buy some time.
He wonders what she might say if he were to just disappear right now, without saying anything.
“You're dallying. What's wrong?”
“Hmm?” And Seokjin turns to look at the golden eyes staring curiously at him. “Oh. Nothing really. I'm just… I guess I'm starting to see why seonsaeng never did goodbyes.”
“...Why the sudden revelation? It isn't like this is your first goodbye.”
“No.” Seokjin agrees, “I don't know why either. But my heart feels heavy. Maybe it's because it's the first time we've stayed in one place so long…”
More than seventy years. That's how long they've stayed here. Even if Seokjin lived to a thousand years, it'd still nearly be a tenth of his life — a tenth watching near three generations pass. Being a mentor to a child, then that child’s children, and then their children's children. Seokjin wonders how they can stand it — those witches who plant themselves in one place their whole life, watching like a stone statue as the world fritters past. Maybe they don't. Maybe they live in isolation, known to only those who last as long as they do, playing pretend that the average relationship they might forge would be like a passing stranger's fancy: here today, gone tomorrow.
Something curls around his leg. And he looks down into the golden eyes he's gotten so familiar with; eyes that look down into his very soul.
Yoongi says, “you'll always have me.”
Seokjin says, “I know.”
He hefts the bouquet in his arms, lifting them up to smell — as if the dewy aroma would give him courage. He still doesn't move.
A hand slips into his, warm and comforting. He's memorized the bumps and calluses, knowing how to angle his own hand so that they slide over his skin in a way that he loves.
The hand squeezes his in comfort, and he squeezes back.
“Yeah,” Seokjin says after seven seconds, the length of a measured breath. “Let's go say goodbye.”