Chapter Text
Welcome to Rose Garden
Jungkook’s earliest memory of his mother is watching her dress up as a Rose.
She always made a ceremony of pulling the curtains together and digging the battered wooden chest up from its hiding spot in the depths of her closet. Of unfolding the seemingly endless yards of gold-embroidered silken fabric and laying her jewelry out on the bed. Of painting her lips and peppering red kisses on Jungkook‘s cheeks as he stuck flowers in her hair.
Don‘t forget, this is our little secret, Jungkook, she would whisper, tone confidential and her eyes smiling, before shedding her wool dress to wrap herself in one of the delicate robes and turning her sparkle on - she managed to transform herself into some mystical, ethereal being in the blink of an eye. It was like magic.
Twirling in front of the mirror with the ruffles and ribbons of her dress flaring out in a fluttering blur of purple and pink, Jungkook always thought that she looked painfully out of place in their tiny house. It felt as if she was drifting away from him and his reality into a world he only knew from her bedtime stories - into a world full of never-wilting flowers and Roses and music and poems and the most beautiful sunsets in the whole universe. A world he could never really grasp or become a part of.
She would always return to him in the end though. Shaking her head as if she had just woken up from a dream and laughing at herself, like dancing around the bedroom was the silliest thing she could think of doing. She would ruffle Jungkook‘s hair and take his hand in her own calloused one to lead him outside to their back porch.
Come on, darling, let‘s wash all this paint off my face!
The relics of her past got sold piece by piece after Jungkook’s father died. She let them go one at a time - the jewelry and fans first, then the robes and hair ornaments, and lastly even the battered chest.
It‘s alright, love. It‘s not like I need them anymore. Just think about it. Where would I even wear them?
His last memory of his mother is watching her get buried dressed in Rose-attire.
Aunt Seojun insists on it. Tells the neighbors that she refuses to let her beautiful little flower leave this world wearing these disgusting rags and clothes her body in one of the prettiest gowns Jungkook has ever seen. It‘s white silk, embroidered with tiny nightingales. She looks beautiful in it. As if she were still alive. Sleeping on her bed of flowers.
[He tries to erase the rest of his memories. Tries to forget about her empty eyes and her hands clawing at his clothes. About the helplessness, he felt as he watched her wilt and slip away. It doesn’t matter anymore. She is gone. Dust and ashes.]
Aunt Seojun shoulders the little bundle of his belongings and the bag he fills with his parents‘ favorite books and nudges him into the carriage as soon as the funeral is over.
I can‘t stay around the places of the dead, Jungkook. I simply cannot. Your poor mother, bless her beautiful heart, would understand.
He knows that she would. She hated staying around the places of the dead too, after all.
Jungkook is pretty sure that she was killed by the house. Her heart couldn’t take the loud silence his father had left behind after the sea took him. And he doesn’t blame her. Isn‘t even angry or sad anymore. Just tired. And empty. Too drained to answer any of Aunt Seojun‘s questions or to glance out of the window when she points out another one of the kingdom‘s historic sights.
You‘re going to love your new home, darling. I promise you. Nobody manages to stay sad in Rose Garden. It‘s the most beautiful place in the whole wide world. Not just the Golden Kingdom, but the whole wide world. You‘re going to love it. I just know that you are. Your mother did too, you know? Before she met your father, may he rest in peace. She was one of the greatest Roses I have ever known. Oh, you should have seen her dance! She was bedazzling!
[He wonders if dying hurts worse than being left behind like this. Probably not. It‘s a pity that they are abandoning the little ghost house and the seashore.]
*
They reach Rose Garden in the early evening hours after only one day of traveling. It is quite astonishing in view of his mother making it sound like some unreachable, hidden place somewhere far, far away.
The guards at the gates make them get out of the carriage and search them both for weapons to Aunt Seojun‘s great outrage before letting them enter. Rose Garden has always been a neutral zone. The safe haven of beauty and peace where all bloodshed is forbidden. Jungkook knows it from the bedtime stories of his childhood. But the way the armed men make him empty his pockets and run their hands over his body still seems ridiculous. As if an old woman and a child could really endanger anybody.
[His mother was right about the sunsets though - the whole town is bathed in the warm, pink and orange glow and the clouds are tinted purple. Everything looks soft and fluid and as they follow the petal-covered river streak through the maze of rose bushes and the white buildings with their green fences and blooming flower ornaments, there are tears prickling at Jungkook‘s eyes once again. So this is the world she abandoned for love. Just to die alone in a shabby hut. But it doesn’t matter anymore. The dead don‘t suffer. Dust and ashes.]
They halt in front of the biggest house Jungkook has ever seen. It stands alone, right by the riverbank, next to the arched wooden bridge.
The houses Roses are raised in are called flower beds. You can‘t miss them. They are prettier than any other house in the whole city, except for the governor’s palace. And I grew up in the prettiest one.
It does look like a flower bed with all the pink roses climbing up its walls and the boxes in the windows overflowing with zinnias. They had planted flowers in the bedroom window back at home too. His mother loved looking at them first thing in the morning until she became too ill to tend to them. They withered away too. Became ghost flowers. Dust and ashes.
“Jungkook, this is Jimin”, Aunt Seojun says when they enter the marble parlor and nearly bump into a satin robe-clad, blonde boy. “Jimin, say hello to Jungkook! He is going to stay with us for a while. Please, be a sweetheart and show him the second-story bedroom. And the bathroom too!”
The boy - Jimin - looks a few years older than him and is pretty enough to make Jungkook‘s breath hitch. A Rose. He looks like he is made of flowers and stardust with the golden glow of his skin and the way his hair falls around his face in soft, fluid waves. Like a halo.
Everything about him is beautiful in a tender, dreamy way. Well, everything except for his eyes. They barely spare him a hard glance before darting back to Aunt Seojun‘s face.
“I thought the second story bedroom was my room, mother”, he says, voice quiet, but just as cold as his gaze.
“Well, we can‘t let Jungkookie sleep in the attic now, can we?”
Aunt Seojun runs her fingers through his hair just to pull her hand back immediately. Jungkook doesn’t miss her wiping it on her skirt. He should have washed it before the funeral. And while he was at it, changing his sweat-stained shirt before the journey couldn’t have hurt either. Jimin must be disgusted by his appearance. Or rather his whole presence judging by the way his face twitches.
“But- but you promised!”
“He is our guest.”
“But-“
“You can share.”
Jimin‘s hands ball into fists as they claw at his robe and the heavy, icy quiet that floods the room makes Jungkook‘s insides tighten up into an uncomfortable knot. He has barely arrived and is already causing issues. His parents wouldn’t be pleased.
“I- I don’t mind sleeping in the attic.”
At first, he doesn’t recognize his own voice. Raspy and shaky. It‘s been too long since he last used it. Must have been three days ago. When he tried to will his mother to stay with him. Repeating his pleas over and over again until his vocal cords gave out. They still feel tense and raw.
“No. Under no circumstances. You won‘t”, Aunt Seojun declares and he flinches in sync with Jimin as she grabs the boy‘s arm. “Just wait here for a moment, darling. My maid will come to get you in a second!”
Jimin and Aunt Seojun disappear in one of the many rooms of the first floor. Leaving Jungkook alone in the gloomy parlor with the scary statues by the flights of the divided staircase and the carpet that looks too delicate to step on. And the cats, of course.
His mother told him about the cats. Rose Garden was overflowing with them. Strays and domesticated ones and some of them struck in-between. All of them well-fed and beloved by the town and its visitors.
There are three of them in the parlor. Lying on top of the staircase‘s swung handrailing and lurking under the life-size statue of a forest nymph. Their twinkling, yellow eyes make him uneasy. It‘s like they are sizing him up just to jump at the opportunity to attack and swallow him whole.
[The walls and doors of the Flower Bed aren’t as thin as those of the little house by the sea but Aunt Seojun‘s words still force their way through the tiny cracks of the wood and stone and they keep ringing in his ears until his eyes start leaking once again. He doesn’t have anyone, Jimin. Both of his parents are dead. Do you understand? That poor boy is all alone and scared to death! Can you even imagine what he must be going through right now? He contemplates plastering his hands over his ears to fade it all out, but he is still holding on to his sad little bundle of clothes and the bag with the books, so it isn’t an option, really. And he is too old to act like a child anyway. No, I can‘t, because not all of us can get lucky enough to have parents who actually want them! Jimin‘s words are followed by a few heartbeats of blissful silence. I‘m sorry, Jimin. You know that I am. But it doesn’t change the fact that he needs us. He is in so much pain. And I am too. Sharing your room with him is the least you can do.]
The maid, a young girl who introduces herself as Mei, takes the heavy bookbag and guides him upstairs with a gentle hand on his shoulder. She chitchats about the weather and the cats and dinner and doesn’t question Jungkook‘s silence. Or his tears. Just gives him a warm smile and prepares his bath while he makes himself at home in Jimin‘s room.
It is way too big to feel like home. Nevertheless, he crams his clothes and his father‘s coat into one of the empty wooden closets and staples the books on the nightstand. Organizing them neatly, just like back in the house by the sea. The wide atlas and plant lexicon first, then the novels and the fairytales, and lastly the poetry collections until the tower is nearly as high as Jungkook.
[Finding a new place for the faded, yellowish photograph of the three of them is a bit trickier. It was taken when Jungkook was a baby. Nestled into his mother‘s arms, he is tiny and chubby and his eyes take up most of his face. His parents look just the way they always did before the whole ghost ordeal. Young and beautiful and very much in love. With each other and Jungkook and life itself. Like people who aren’t supposed to die. Putting the picture anywhere in sight would probably kill him too. He hides it under his pillow. And after taking the quickest bath and skipping dinner he listens to the echo of their voices in the dark. Pressing his face into the pillow until his sobs are muffled enough to pass as white noise.]
His body jolts at the cool touch of the soft, small hand on his arm. The room is only lit by the moonshine seeping in through the nearly transparent lace curtains and his vision is blurry but he manages to make out Jimin‘s features.
“I‘m sorry”, he whispers. “I didn’t want to scare you. Are you alright?”
The sharp edge is gone from his gaze and his voice is dripping with sweetness. Like sugar syrup and honey. Jungkook‘s muscles go slack just listening to him.
“I didn’t mean to be mean to you. It‘s just- mother promised me that I could finally move into this room lots of times but then she always found a reason to give it to someone else instead. And I‘m not very fond of the attic. But I wouldn’t mind sharing. It‘s been a while since I‘ve had a roommate. I could move my bed in here if that would be alright with you.”
Jungkook nods. The room is too big for a single ghost person anyway.
“Thank you.”
Jimin smiles at him. Gently. His eyes turn into crescents and Jungkook can‘t help but smile back. For the first time in weeks. It feels strange. Unfamiliar. But kind of relieving too. He doesn’t want him to leave. So he grabs his wrist and pats the mattress when Jimin raises his brows in surprise.
“Oh? You want me to stay?”
Jungkook nods again. It‘s all rather ridiculous. Boys his age shouldn’t act like this. Shouldn’t be terrified of the night. But Jimin‘s presence makes the ghosts fade away. And the bed is too big anyway.
“I didn’t want to sleep alone on my first night here either”, Jimin says. He kicks his slippers off and crawls under the silky duvet. “But you‘ll get used to it. There are worse places to get stranded in than Rose Garden. And mother and Mei and Hyejin are really nice. It‘s just the four of us in the house now. Well, five, if we count you in. Jinyoung still comes around sometimes, but he is independent now. This used to be his room before he-“
Jimin keeps talking. His words get tangled up in Jungkook‘s head and he can‘t really keep up. Too sleepy to concentrate. Jimin doesn’t seem to mind though. He curls up on his side of the mattress and laughs when Jungkook wiggles closer to him and nestles himself into the curve of his body. It feels nice. Warm and safe. Like thawing up after being frozen for ages.
“You smell like the sea, Jungkook”, Jimin sighs, with his nose against the top of his head. He should have washed his hair. “Like home.”
It‘s the last thing Jungkook hears before he drifts off to sleep.
*
Life in his new home is nothing like life back in the little ghost house. Nothing like life in the shadows of the massive fishing boats, encompassed by the cool embrace of the restless waves and the salty breeze.
The warm, sticky summer air is heavy with the scent of flowers and plum wine and there seem to be songs and tiny swarms of fallen petals everywhere he goes - swirling around in the wind and sticking to the glistening pavement and the houses and the Roses‘ flowing robes. It’s a lot to take in. Jungkook gets dizzy just looking out of the window of the room he now shares with Jimin.
He still doesn’t talk.
Throat always too sore and tongue too heavy to form words. It’s alright though. Aunt Seojun, Mei and Hyejin, the house’s bread-winning Rose, don’t mind. They are all kindness around him. Offering to show him around town, to take him to the theater or to buy him new clothes. Eager to slip sweet treats and small trinkets into his pockets whenever they walk past him. They only ask him questions he can answer by nodding or shaking his head and Hyejin gives him a leather-bound booklet and a gold embellished fountain pen just in case he should need words to express himself.
It has to be one of the most beautiful gifts he has ever received. Too beautiful to use. Words are overrated. And Jimin talks enough for the both of them anyway.
He is always happy to answer Jungkook’s questions regardless of their silent nature. Strolling through the cobbled streets or one of the town‘s three public parks, he tells him all about Rose Garden. About the ballrooms and theaters and tea houses. About the alluring parties and the seasonal festivals with their flower parades and moonlit outdoor stages. About the filthy rich men and women who visit the town to experience the art of beauty and love firsthand and about the legendary Roses who are mesmerizing enough to bewitch them with a single glance and the soft echo of their laughter.
“Lady Coelia made the king’s right-hand woman fall off her horse by simply looking at her”, Jimin says between two bites of the peach cake he sneaked from the kitchen. “She was one of the elite royal guards and the golden age’s most feared general. But Coelia still managed to make her go weak and soft. She was so enchanted by her that she made her her wife eventually. Put a red veil on her in front of the whole royal court.”
Jungkook knows the story. It was one of his mother’s favorite ones. However, in her retellings, Coelia was always madly in love with Lady Alhedra too.
[I suppose lots of people couldn’t understand how a Rose could love someone like her. The legend says that Alhedra was more like a bloodthirsty monster than a human being. Tall and broad and frightening enough to put a whole army to flight all by herself. Her skin nothing more than a web of hideous scars and her missing right eye replaced by a black jewel. She would giggle at the sight of Jungkook’s big, fearful eyes and pull him closer to her chest. But Coelia thought she was the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. And according to the elders, it took her all her Rose tricks to win Alhedra over. You see, she was actually soft-spoken and gentle under the scary exterior. And very shy too. She loved animals and children and sunsets and flowers. And yearned for someone to love. It made Jungkook think of the neighbor’s big, scary-looking dog who went pliant under his fingers whenever he mustered up the courage to pet him. Like Bada? His mother nodded and pinched his cheek with a little chuckle. Yes. Exactly like Bada. And Coelia gave her all the love she craved. And they lived happily ever after.]
“I am going to be like her too, you know? A legendary Rose”, Jimin states matter of factly. Like it is a universally acknowledged truth. And Jungkook doesn’t doubt him. He is way too determined to fail.
[On a rainy fall afternoon, under the covers of the bed they dragged downstairs from the bedroom-turned attic, Jimin tells him all about himself too. About his earliest memories of running along the beach and watching the fishing boats shrink to tiny dots on the horizon. About his siblings and about the omnipresent hunger clawing holes into his stomach. About his father shutting the door of Jimin‘s own little ghost house in his tear-smeared face and sending him away with a strict, foxfaced merchant. About arriving in Rose Garden as a terrified five-year-old and getting dropped off at Aunt Seojun‘s porch. Most Roses live here their whole lives, you know? They are born to other Roses or brought here as abandoned babies. They don’t know life in the outside world. Their parents never get to know them because they are dead or because they chose to give them away before they could get the chance to. But my dad just straight up hated me. Couldn’t wait to get rid of me. He states it all rather rationally. Not a hint of emotion in his voice. Like he is just retelling a story about a stranger. It‘s one of the rare nights Jungkook uses the notebook. He writes down how sorry he is. And then he fills a whole page with the worst insults he can think of. The ones he picked up at the harbor while he helped his father unload his catch. Jimin is reading on over his shoulder and laughing tears by the time he is done. Who would’ve thought you knew so many filthy words, Jungkook? You‘re hiding a drunk sailor under those doe-eyes.]
They become friends.
Sort of.
Jungkook isn’t sure if people who lost their voices the way he did can really make friends with anyone. Isn’t sure if he would consider himself an equal in Jimin’s place - he feels more like a pet most of the time.
He waits in their room when Jimin is at school or taking Rose lessons from Hyejin and follows him around the house after he comes home. Without a sound, listening to his daily stories and the latest gossip about people he doesn’t know. He watches him practice his dances and the haegeum for hours every day. Crawls into his bed whenever his nightmares wake him up in the middle of the night and lets him stroke his hair until he feels safe enough to drift back to sleep. It doesn’t feel like he is contributing a lot to their friendship, really. But Jimin’s eyes smile when he looks at him and he seems to get him without words too, so he tries his best not to feel too bad about it.
He becomes friends with the cats too eventually.
They are very different from the dogs of his hometown. Sly and grumpy and spoiled, but also fluffy and soft and very amusing in their confident dumbness. Norangi leaves paw-marks in Hyejin‘s pressed golden powder and scatters her cosmetics all across the house. Moon is terrified of spotting her own shadow in the candlelight and Gom has a talent for getting stuck in the most impossible places - in honey jars and Mei‘s sewing box and even teapots.
Watching them becomes one of his favorite things to do. He starts drawing their silly little adventures in Hyejin‘s notebook and proceeds to borrow Jimin‘s oil painting supplies to capture his models in their true glory since the pencil sketches don’t do them justice.
“You‘re a weird kid, Jungkookie”, Hyejin declares after about half an hour of watching him work on the painting of Moon serenading the moon in the garden. “I‘ve never seen anyone put this much effort into painting cats. But you‘re really good at this. You should paint me too someday.”
She pinches his blushing cheek and they both burst out laughing when Moon wakes up from her nap between the legs of the easel and greets her with a startled hiss.
“Whoa there! Your models are getting shamelessly possessive!”
Hyejin isn’t wrong. The cats do grow accustomed to his company. Even become affectionate. They rub their heads against his hand to get his attention and try to play with the brushes while he is painting them. Other times they settle for curling up and snoozing in his lap. They purr when he pets them and Gom even climbs up his arm to ride on his shoulder sometimes.
It makes settling in a lot easier.
He still thinks of the ghost house he left behind. The nightmares become rarer though. Knowing that Jimin is just a few steps away helps to shed the paralyzing fear that settles into his bones every time he wakes up from one. He isn’t happy. Not really. But staying sad at Rose Garden is in fact harder than anticipated, so he welcomes the soothing warmth of his new friendships. And the last days of the golden fall pass by in the blink of an eye despite feeling endlessly long while they last.
Since Jimin is busy rehearsing his solo for the annual winter festival and his fingers go numb if he stays out painting for too long, Jungkook starts reading again to fill them with words.
Revisiting his favorite parts of his parents‘ books is still painful, but Hyejin is more than happy to lend him the beautifully illustrated novels and poetry collections her admirers have gifted her, and Aunt Seojun lets him use the small library in the dimly lit office with the rose-tapestry covered walls and plush fauteuils.
[Usually, he takes the books into the garden and spends the mornings huddled up in a blanket on the marble porch. But from time to time Aunt Seojun asks him to stay and keep her company. He makes himself comfortable in one of the chairs and watches her work behind her enormous wooden table on those days. Pretends not to notice the way her eyes water when she rests them on him. Sometimes she talks about his mother. She was the prettiest Rose of her time. I still remember the day she first told us about your father. We all laughed when she declared that she fell in love with a fisherman. That she was going to marry him one day. But she was deadly serious about it. She shakes her head and laughs, wiping the corner of her eye. Somewhere deep down I knew that she would leave one day. She wasn’t meant to die as a Rose. But- but I always thought that she would end up marrying a nobleman or some rich entrepreneur. It was silly of me. She was too much of a romantic not to throw everything away for love. And your father was a good man. Very handsome too. On the day of their wedding, I told them that their children would look beautiful. And I was right about that. Jungkook still doesn’t talk, so Aunt Seojun doesn’t wait for an answer. Just smiles at him and ruffles his hair on her way out.]
He tries to make himself useful. The ghosts in his head scold him for sitting around all day. Rightfully so. His guest status has long expired, and he isn’t made of sugar. So, he helps Mei with the cleaning and cooking and runs errands for Hyejin and Aunt Seojun. Brings their letters to the post office, gets the new robes from the dressmaker and picks up the pretty little cakes and flower-shaped cookies they order for their visitors.
They only come by occasionally. Well-dressed elderly gentlemen who Aunt Seojun always introduces as old friends. They bring her flower bouquets and expensive wine bottles. She hands the gifts to Jungkook and asks him to be a sweetheart and bring them into her room. Then they have tea and cookies and cakes in the salon or on the porch and chat about the changing seasons and the good old days.
Aunt Seojun‘s voice changes when she talks to them. It becomes silky and warm. She also laughs a lot. Like those grey-haired men are the most charming, endearing conversation partners she has ever had. Then, after they leave, she tells them all about the silly things they said and laughs even more.
Hyejin is only ever visited by a middle-aged salesman from the Golden City. He wears dark suits and hats and a rather grim expression whenever Jungkook opens the door to welcome him with a silent bow. His face only softens up when he spots Hyejin who is all sparkly smiles and twinkling eyes in his company.
“Park Donghyun is her patron”, Jimin explains, staring up at the star embroidered night sky from their little nest of blankets on the rooftop. “He comes up for all of Hyejin‘s expenses in return for her- well, for the illusion of her love. So, we need to be kind and polite to him.”
It doesn’t make sense to Jungkook.
“The illusion of her love?”
Hearing his own voice is still weird and unfamiliar every time he overcomes himself to use it.
“Mmh. Love is an illusion around here most of the time. It‘s all play pretend. She needs to act like she is completely crazy about him. Like she only has eyes for him”, he lets out a disgusted little laugh. ”Like she is his property. And he gets to use her body too, of course. But I don’t think that‘s the main appeal. It‘s about power and status, you know? Becoming a patron is expensive. Only wealthy people can afford to have Roses all to themselves like this.”
They listen to the white noise of the evening. The mixture of distant music, laughter and clinking glasses and the cats‘ serenades to the moon. It had kept Jungkook wide awake during his first few nights here. Now he barely registers it.
“I‘ll never have one. A patron, I mean. Roses who are successful enough to be booked out every night don’t really need this kind of additional security. And they don’t have the extra time entertaining a nighttime spouse requires”, Jimin‘s eyes crinkle up as he grins down at Jungkook. “I already have my hands full with babysitting you, anyway. You couldn’t exactly crawl into my bed if I was busy practicing the art of love now, could you?”
He is horrible. But he laughs so hard that his eyes disappear, and he rolls to his side, clutching his stomach.
“Just imagine! Imagine I had a patron and needed to tell them that they had to deal with my roommate who can‘t fall asleep without me!”
Jungkook tries his best to look as offended as possible, but the mental image of the enraged, confused imaginary patron who looks just like Donghyun in his head cracks him up. He is tempted to remind Jimin of the many times he climbed into Jungkook‘s bed to shake him awake and tell him about the balls and parties Hyejin lets him accompany her to. Talking is straining though. So, he settles for pushing Jimin out of the blanket-nest.
*
The day that changes everything starts with a trip to the bakery behind the small marketplace. It‘s a rather cold morning by Rose Garden‘s standards. Chilly enough to wear the new leather coat Aunt Seojun bought him as a belated birthday present.
[Not cold enough for the flowers to wilt. They never die. Just fall asleep for the winter. Close their petals, clenching around themselves in tiny, tight knots and grow a frosty shell to protect them until the first rays of spring wake them up again. They make him think of his mother. And the thin layer of ice above the sea back at home. The waves broke it into loose islands that swam on top of them. When he was still little his father would point out the different shapes the ice islands reminded him of. Dogs and cats and castles and dragons and roses.]
The sweets are for Jimin this time, so Jungkook does his best to pick the prettiest flower cookies and sugarcoated cakes displayed behind the glass vitrine.
He isn’t really a suitor, Jimin had told him the night before. Just a wannabe poet who thinks that spending time in Rose Garden will help him improve his writing. Who also happens to be the heir of some big shot in the steel industry. Hyejin thinks that having him over is a good pre-debut exercise.
It still sounds like a big deal to Jungkook despite his friend‘s unnerving calmness. The fact that Jimin won‘t debut as a Rose until the spring of his nineteenth birthday, makes the whole ordeal all the more intriguing - from what Jungkook has picked up from the conversation between Aunt Seojun and Jinyoung, a former Rose of their Flower Bed, welcoming private visitors at home is rather untypical for Rose apprentices.
You don‘t understand, Hyejin had yelled during breakfast the morning after the party. The whole room was full of the most prestigious Roses. That boy could have picked anyone but he only had eyes for Jimin. You should have seen Dahyun‘s face! Tzuyu kept pinching me under the table the entire time he talked to us. He was gone as soon we entered the teahouse. Everyone was. But that boy has got it bad. He spilled his cup all over himself the second Jimin looked at him!
Jimin just hid his face in his hands and asked her to stop exaggerating. But he couldn’t keep the house from buzzing with excitement. And Jungkook can‘t wait to catch a glance of his first official admirer. Until he enters the salon with a tray of desserts and finds himself face to face with Kim Namjoon, that is.
He gets struck by lightning. A bolt of fluid fire that rushes through his veins, setting his body aflame and making his knees buckle. For an endless heartbeat, it‘s like the world stands still. And all at once, Jungkook finally understands the story of Lady Alhedra and her Rose.
“Oh, Jungkook, what perfect timing!”, Jimin exclaims. “Namjoon was just asking about your masterpieces!”
Knocking his teaspoon off the table in the process, Namjoon stands up to greet him with a sheepish little smile that dimples his cheeks and Jungkook’s stomach fills up with butterflies.
“So, you are the artist behind the cat paintings”, he says, with his voice warm and deep and his dragonlike eyes sparkling behind the lenses of his glasses. “They are beautiful! I love how you capture small everyday moments and make them into these dreamy, epic portrayals of- oh, excuse me. I- I tend to get carried away. I‘m- my name is Kim Namjoon.”
It‘s love at first sight.
“Jungkook”, he says. And then, driven by some otherworldly power: “I‘m- I‘m very happy that you liked them. The, uhm, the paintings, I mean. I like cats.”
The scratchiness of his voice makes him cringe as much as his words do. Speaking doesn’t feel wrong this time though.
“It‘s a pleasure to meet you, Jungkook.”
“You too. The- the pleasure is all mine.”
Jimin‘s mouth falls open and his eyes widen to the size of Aunt Seojun‘s porcelain teacups behind Namjoon. Even Hyejin‘s expression wavers for a second before she finds her composure again. Jungkook can‘t blame them. He doesn’t understand his sudden boldness either. All he knows is that he wishes he could keep exchanging casualties with Namjoon forever.
So, upon Jimin's invitation, he agrees to stay.
He sips his lotus-rose-hip tea and eats a few of the honey cookies without really tasting anything he puts in his mouth. Watches Jimin refill their cups with the grace of a real Rose and listens to Namjoon's theories about the true meaning of their existence and the secret lives of cats and about viewing Rose Garden as a manmade oasis of beauty and art for all the lost wanderers who have been robbed of the magic of the world around them. Jungkook melts a little more with every word that falls from his lips.
[Little by little, he starts talking again after that fatal afternoon. He can see the surprise in the others‘ eyes. They tense up every time he opens his mouth, but luckily they never address the sudden change. They must be too scared to break him again. Jungkook is thankful for the lack of questions - he doesn’t have any answers.]
Namjoon becomes a regular visitor at their house. Appears at their door at four o‘clock sharp, three to four times a week. Dressed in his impeccable suits and armored with a collection of little gifts.
He brings something for all of them, so nobody feels left out. Chocolates and books and tiny plants in hand-painted ceramic pots. Never bouquets. The thought of watching the flowers wilt saddens him too much.
A real gentleman. They don’t make them like this anymore, Aunt Seojun declares after his third visit and they all have to agree. Kim Namjoon is everything a perfect suitor needs to be and then some.
After paying his respects to Aunt Seojun in her room, he has tea with Jimin, Hyejin and Jungkook. They chat about daylight-appropriate topics as Hyejin likes to label them. Art, tea, the upcoming ball season, nature and poetry. Jimin plays a few songs on his haegeum with Namjoon watching him like he singlehandedly hung each and every single star in the sky. Which. Well. Not exactly Jungkook‘s idea of fun, but he can‘t blame him either. Jimin is beauty and grace personified in his ruffled, orchid pink shirt and the loose updo ornated with a whole bouquet of silk rose-pins.
“It‘s magical, isn’t it?”, Namjoon whispers, leaning closer to Jungkook, so his hot breath brushes his ear. “The way Roses move in light and beauty and become one with their art?”
Jungkook thinks of Jimin falling into bed with his whole body coated in sweat without bothering to undress after his late-night dance rehearsals and of the way Hyejin can devour a whole stuffed duck in one sitting without losing a single thought on table manners or taking a breath in between the wolf-sized bites.
“Yes. It‘s magical.”
Later, when Hyejin excuses herself to get to an appointment at the dressmaker or hairdresser and leaves the three of them alone, Jimin asks him less daylight-appropriate questions too. Personal ones. Just for the fun of it.
He goes about it very subtly, of course. Taking over and twisting the conversation‘s natural course until they end up right where he wants them to be. Feigning innocence and surprise when the topics shift and Namjoon ends up telling them all about his childhood in the heart of the kingdom. About his parents' matchmaking attempts and the burdens of being the eldest son of a steel magnate who wants him to become the chairman of his empire.
“My father is a good man”, he says, taking a sip of his tea. His glasses fog up from the uprising steam and his temporary loss of vision makes them all chuckle. “He‘s just- just a little too enamored with his firm. In his eyes, profit is everything. He doesn’t really understand me or the path I‘d choose if my life was really mine to live.”
[He is pretty sure that Jimin likes Namjoon. Not in the same way Jungkook does, but he has a soft spot for him too - gets all starry-eyed when Namjoon recites one of his poems (Jungkook is pretty sure they were all inspired by Jimin‘s mesmerizing presence) and he can‘t keep his endeared giggles in when he destroys yet another one of Aunt Seojun‘s teacups by simply picking it up. However, when Namjoon talks about the hardships of balancing his responsibilities as a good son and his need to paint pictures with his words, a dark shadow hushes across his face. It hardens his gaze and leaves an icy glaze over his omnipresent Rose smile.]
Jungkook uses his newly regained voice to ask him about life in the Golden City and Namjoon tells him about the draining mandatory military service year and his boring economy studies and the literature and art history classes he sometimes sneakily listens to hiding in the last row of the auditorium. About the dragon museum with the skeleton exhibition and the growing railway network. Shows him pictures of different train models and the golden statues of the immortalized kings and queens in the city center.
He likes to believe that they are friends. Or at least something like friends.
Namjoon asks him about his hometown and his art and lets Jungkook introduce him to Norangi, Gom and Moon. Gives him long lists of books he thinks he would enjoy and promises to send him postcards once he leaves Rose Garden to move back to the university for the summer term. Marks the foreign cities he plans on visiting in Jungkook‘s atlas and tells him all about the ones he has already been to.
“There is a mountain range full of white statues that turn golden in the sunset in Bilas and the greatest calligraphy and silk painting collection in this tiny, hidden gallery in Somanro. And you can visit the old palace in Vazdham! It was called Birdhouse back in the golden age because one of the counts who lived in it collected exotic singing birds from all over the world and put them in golden cages hanging from the ceiling of his rooms. The whole place was ringing with their songs all day long.”
“Must‘ve been a nightmare for anyone working there”, Jimin mumbles and his remark makes Namjoon laugh.
“That‘s what my friend said when we saw them. I suppose you are right. It must have been irritating to those exposed to it all the time. But the grand hall looks hauntingly beautiful with all of its empty cages with their doors gaping open.”
“What happened to the birds?”, Jungkook asks. The image of a ghost palace with its empty cages makes him uneasy.
“They died in their pretty little prison cells, didn’t they?”
Jimin refills Namjoon‘s cup without looking at him and Jungkook doesn’t miss the barely audible steely undertone of his question.
“Actually, they didn’t”, Hyejin says. She takes a tiny bite of the cake on her plate before continuing. “When the count fell ill and realized that the end was near, he asked his sons to bring his bed into the grand hall and to open the cages. He died watching them flutter around in a blur of colors before flying out of the windows.”
Namjoon nods with a gentle smile.
“Yes, exactly. He realized that imprisoning the things that he loved would only kill them, so he let them go in the end.”
It‘s a bit like listening to his mother’s stories about Rose Garden, except that Namjoon‘s world can‘t be enclosed within walls. It is infinite. And for the first time since his mother‘s funeral, Jungkook feels alive enough to long to see it all.
*
Namjoon leaves Rose Garden a few days before the winter festival.
"I‘m very sorry that I won‘t be able to see you dance, Jimin", he says, standing in their doorway. "But I dare to hope that there will be other opportunities in the future."
Jimin squeezes his hand and laughs.
"There‘s no need to be this dramatic. Of course, there will be other opportunities! Lots and lots of them. You just need to come back and visit us again. You should make it summer next time. Rose Garden is beautiful then. Full of butterflies. You could write about them."
"I would love to. And I will. I promise."
He thanks them for their kindness and graces them with a final smile before getting into the carriage waiting for him. And then, just like that, he is gone. Waving goodbye clogs Jungkook's throat up. For a terrifying moment, he is afraid that his heart might crack inside his chest. But the sensation passes. Like all things seem to, lately. This isn’t a real goodbye after all. They will meet again. And by the time they do, Jungkook will have found his true voice.