Chapter Text
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The ice in Yugyeom’s Americano chinks together, dark liquid sloshing inside the Starbucks cup as he sets it down firmly on the picnic table in front of him, gazing across at Jungkook with open incredulity.
“Dude,” he breathes. “Your dad still doesn’t know? About any of it?”
Jungkook winces, feeling his shoulders hunch guiltily as he slumps down a little further in his seat.
“Not yet,” he mutters, fingers curling around the ice-chilled plastic of his own cup.
In his defence, at the start of the summer break he’d had every intention of confronting his parents with the truth. The whole truth, at that - everything he’s been bottling up ever since he first moved (escaped) to Seoul, but most pressingly his decision to put his business degree on hold in favour of focusing his energy on art studies (and healing, and happiness, and the coven, and enjoying his newfound freedom to the fullest after what feels like half a lifetime of self-inflicted academic hell).
He’d even gone so far as to write a rather lengthy email, laying bare all the hidden truths he’s been so careful to keep from his parents these past two years in an effort to maintain the illusion of being the Perfect Son - and damn, but it had felt good to get it all off his chest and onto paper, so to speak. Writing that email had been hella cathartic. What had started out as a hesitant and overly formal missive had quickly spiralled into something blunt and honest and heartfelt as Jungkook found the truth pouring out of him like a dam had burst, willingly confessing to everything from to his decision to work ridiculous overtime hours in order to pay for the art classes he loved that his scholarship couldn’t cover (and his parents would never approve of), to his his recently-made-legal status as an adopted member of the Im-pack. And while he hadn't quite found the courage to detail his years-long battle with a previously undiagnosed (and steadily worsening) case of academic-related anxiety that he’s really only just beginning to recover from, he'd at least laid out plainly just how much he hated studying business and economics, and how much better he felt now that he'd set the degree aside for the time being.
When it came to the coven, though, Jungkook had found himself only able to mention them in brief - and not by name, never by name, because there’s a part of him still fearful that his parents will seek to take advantage of a familial connection to one of the oldest and most powerful vampire covens in South Korea and they'll just ruin everything the way they always do. Jungkook wants to keep them both as far away from his bondmates as possible, for as long as he can.
But a lifetime of trying his best to please his parents isn’t a habit that’s easily broken, and while the email had been easy enough to write, just the thought of them actually reading such a lengthy, detailed, shameful confession and discovering just how much of a disappointment he’d turned out to be had left a bitter taste in Jungkook’s mouth.
And that one niggling concern had proven to be Jungkook’s downfall in the end; a quiet, insidious fear that had grown wings until it near-enough eclipsed the satisfaction he’d previously felt at finding himself strong enough to finally confess the whole truth and put secrecy behind him.
Ultimately, he’d never quite managed to bring himself to hit send. Even now, the email still sits there in his drafts, unfinished.
He can vividly remember typing out that final paragraph, though - an honest and heartfelt “I know you’re probably disappointed in me, and I’m sorry for that, but I can’t be the son you want me to be - I hope maybe one day, you’ll be able to love me for who I am” and suddenly the tears had surged up thick and fast, and he’d all but thrown his phone across the room in his haste to retreat from the pain of it, unable to continue. Hoseok had appeared in the doorway not half a minute later, a worried crease in his brow as he moved to wrap himself around Jungkook in a gentle embrace. The hybrid’s forced laughter and shitty made-up excuse about emotional webdramas had been met with a faintly doubtful expression, but the empath hadn’t pressed him for the truth. Comforted as he ever was by Hoseok’s soothing presence and calming influence, it had been easy to put the email (and the emotional turmoil its contents evoked) out of his mind for another day.
And then he’d just…kept on doing that, day after day - telling himself that he had the whole summer ahead of him, that it could wait until tomorrow, until next week, until things had settled down and his portfolio was finished - on and on, week after week, until suddenly he found himself almost at the end of the summer break.
Truly, these past eight weeks seem to have flown by. Between his summer art classes, finalising his transfer to SNU’s art department to begin his new degree, and settling into life as a fully-bonded member of the Kim coven, he’s had more than enough on his plate to keep him busy. Not to mention all the dates the hyungs have been setting up to surprise him on the days he does have a little downtime.
Jimin and Taehyung in particular have been determined to woo him properly, following the traditional steps of leporidae-hybrid courting rituals, despite Jungkook’s gentle insistence that it wasn’t necessary, that he was very much in love with all of them, that they were already bonded anyway, that modern courting practises were a lot less extravagant than the traditions of his grandparents’ generation, and on top of all that he was only half-hybrid to begin with. His fellow coven maknaes had been undeterred, and operation ‘Woo the Koo’ as Taehyung had dubbed it had been in full swing for several weeks now, a venture the elder hyungs have enthusiastically supported and assisted in like the big romantic saps they are. It seems like every other day there’s a delicious something plated up in the kitchen for him when he gets home from art school, or a pretty gift waiting to be opened, or a surprise trip to the theatre or the aquarium or the night market, and flowers and formal dances and ribbons and berries and music (Yoongi had written him a sonnet, be still his beating heart) - and all in all, Jungkook feels wonderfully, thoroughly spoiled.
So naturally, with so many pleasant distractions, it’s been easy to push any and all thoughts of his parents and the secrets he’s been keeping to the back of his mind.
And now the summer break is suddenly winding down, the start of the new semester is scarcely a week away, and the enormity of his unspoken confession seems to have grown from a molehill into a mountain. That unsent email sitting in his drafts somehow feels woefully insufficient in the face of all the lies that have built up over the past few months alone, and even now, weeks after he’d originally intended to come clean, the prospect of telling his parents the whole truth still utterly terrifies him.
“Kookie,” Yugyeom’s expression has softened in concern (perhaps sensing the hybrid’s growing anxiety), and the wolf reaches across the picnic table to lightly touch the back of Jungkook’s hand. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like an accusation, bun. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
From his seat on the bench beside Yugyeom, Moonbin sends him an equally concerned look, his gentle features ever so slightly pinched, a shallow line of worry already creasing his brow.
“Hyung,” the werecat murmurs softly, his foot nudging gently at Jungkook’s ankle beneath the table. “You told me things were going okay between you and your folks?”
Jungkook suppresses another sigh.
It’s true enough that the handful of text messages he and his parents have exchanged in recent months have been perfectly cordial - but that’s only because they both remain blissfully unaware of the very long list of things he’s done to disappoint them.
Including his most recent acquisition of a tattoo, gods help him, which he already knows will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
It’s only a teeny-tiny thing on the inside of his wrist; the Kim-coven sigil, serving a bonding marker, written in the same moonflower ink as Namjoon’s Druid tattoos, inked lovingly into his skin by Seokjin’s own hand (and healed moments later by the press of Namjoon’s lips and a murmured incantation), and it’s fucking beautiful. Jungkook had been desperately keen to carry a visual claim with him in the absence of the Bite - something to bind him physically to the Kims, a reminder of their continuing love and support, small enough to be easily hidden beneath his shirtsleeve or a wristband if and when he felt the urge to conceal it from prying eyes, but just something he could look at to reassure himself of his place in the coven. The hyungs had been utterly enamoured by the idea, and for at least the first two weeks after the sigil appeared on his wrist, he’d often find them staring at it with warm eyes and quiet little smiles.
But his mother absolutely hates tattoos, and despite how much Jungkook loves that physical reminder of his bond with the coven, its mere existence has become yet another addition to the long list of things he’s done to disappoint his parents.
As far as they’re aware, he’s been spending the summer doing part-time work (not entirely a lie - he does still work late shifts at Euphoria on Sundays, mostly to keep in touch with his colleagues and see his favourite regulars), and studiously getting ready for the new academic term ( also not a lie - he’s spent at least half the summer sketching and painting in his art studio at the nest, building up his portfolio). If his parents had even the faintest inkling of the truth, he definitely would’ve heard about it by now - his father in particular has never been one to mince words when it came to criticising Jungkook’s questionable life choices.
“So this is what’s been bugging you these past couple of weeks,” Yugyeom realises, his forearms now braced against the wood of the picnic table as he leans forward a little, his expression growing more serious. “You weren’t yourself at the barbecue last saturday; Alpha and Seokjin-hyung definitely noticed, they were doing that silent-conversation thing with their eyebrows. I swear they was all geared up to sit you down for a full interrogation, but Binnie and I managed to talk them out of it - we figured you were just worried about getting your portfolio finished on time. You’re always a little tense around deadlines. But it wasn’t that at all, was it?”
Jungkook doesn’t offer a verbal confirmation, but he suspects his wince is telling enough.
Yugyeom heaves a short sigh as he leans back again, regarding Jungkook critically with a wry twist to his lips.
“You and your guilt complex,” the werewolf gripes, but his tone is fond. “I should’ve just let the hyungs have at you; nipped this in the bud before it started eating away at you the way it always does. Would you even have told us, if we hadn’t brought it up?”
Jungkook hunkers down a little further in his seat, grimacing a faintly apologetic smile and ducking his gaze away from his friend’s worried, all-too-knowing gaze.
“Probably not,” he admits, his fidgeting fingers idly tracing a swirling pattern into the sun-warmed wood of the picnic table.
He’d suggested shadier spot for their afternoon picnic without even giving it conscious thought (now often finding himself in the habit of seeking out shelter from direct sunlight, after so many glorious, carefree weeks spent predominantly in the company of vampires), choosing this particular table for it’s cosy location nestled safely beneath the sheltering boughs of a towering zelkova tree. Even so, tiny slivers of sunlight have managed to peek through between the leaves, dappling the rough surface of the dark wood a brilliant, speckled gold, warm to the touch beneath the paintbrush-calloused skin of his fingertips. For late-summer, the weather has remained unusually hot and dry, albeit now tempered with a cooler breeze that helps to take the edge off the sun’s glare.
Poor Taehyung would likely pinken up in seconds if he were here. Jungkook usually loves the summer months and dreads the grey drabness of a long, wet autumn, but he’s genuinely looking forward to the turning of the season this year, purely for the freedom of movement it’ll afford his most photosensitive bondmate.
Absently, Jungkook wonders whether the hyungs have managed to successfully keep the fledgling tethered indoors this afternoon - he imagines Tae will be chomping at the bit to escape the nest, having only just been released from his two-week-long enforced confinement after unwisely choosing to trek through the forest on what turned out to be the hottest, sunniest afternoon of the summer (in search of wildflowers for Jungkook, of all the idiotic and adorably romantic gestures), badly triggering both his oversensitive skin and the coven’s overzealous protective instincts in one fell swoop.
“It really wasn’t as bad as all that,” Taehyung had whined a full week after the initial incident, when Jimin had once again decided to regale the rest of the coven with a frightfully detailed description of how the vampling’s tender skin had already been peeling by the time Yoongi had all but hauled the sorry-looking maknae back indoors (an impassioned speech that Jimin seemed to enjoy repeating simply to get a reaction out of Tae). “I was only outside for a little while, the burns weren’t even that serious!”
During the silent pause that had followed the fledgling’s sulky outburst, all eyes in the room had flickered towards Seokjin, who sat in his usual antique, high-backed leather armchair by the unlit hearth, one leg crossed elegantly over the other and his elbow braced on the padded arm of the chair, a book held open in one hand as the fingers of the other combed gently through Yoongi’s hair as the Seer sat quietly on a cushion at his feet, embroidering a handkerchief.
Seokjin hadn’t voiced his displeasure aloud - he hadn’t needed to - merely glancing up ever so slowly from his book and arching a single dark eyebrow in Taehyung’s direction, effectively communicating in that effortlessly authoritative way of his: ’would you care to repeat that, little one?’
And indeed, Taehyung had not - the rest of the coven sharing fond little grins as the wide-eyed fledgling blurted out a squeaky “never mind” and surreptitiously began scooting further beneath Namjoon’s arm as though to hide himself from view. Obligingly, and with a dimpled smile of indulgence, Namjoon had bundled the nestling into his lap for a cuddle and put an end to his very-much-feigned pouting with a gentle kiss. Seokjin had regarded his suitably-chastised vampling for a moment longer with a fond curl to his lips, before calmly returning to his book.
If Jungkook hadn’t been thoroughly head-over-heels in love with the Primus already, he might’ve found himself falling in love all over again in that moment alone.
“Kookie,” Yugyeom says, in a tone that suggests it isn’t for the first time, and Jungkook blinks hard as he’s drawn abruptly from pleasant thoughts, offering his friend another apologetic wince of a smile.
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
The werewolf regards him with faintly narrowed eyes, Binnie matching the expression beside him, and Jungkook finds himself fidgeting self-consciously beneath their dual stares.
“You haven’t been getting enough sleep, have you?” Binnie deduces knowingly, and his bottom lip juts out a little in that familiar unhappy-worried-kitten pout that Jungkook is exceptionally weak for.
“Only these past couple of days,” Jungkook reassures him gently, finding himself unable to lie straight to the werecat’s pouting face. “And not because of… this. I’ve just been really busy with my portfolio, and the hyungs took me to the Midnight Market last night, so I didn’t get to bed until dawn.”
He reaches again for his subpar Americano and raises the plastic cup in a sardonic sort of toast, making the ice and liquid slosh around.
“Doesn’t help that Joonie-hyung’s still got me on decaff after 1pm,” he laments with a sigh. “Sweet gods, I miss real coffee. I guess my body’s still getting used to going without. But I’ll catch up on sleep tonight, I promise.”
His two best friends don’t look overly convinced.
“And I’m gonna tell them - my parents,” he ploughs on, with a note of determination that he really doesn’t feel. “I’m gonna tell them everything. And if they decide to hate me for it-”
The words catch unexpectedly in his throat, and he swallows hard, shoving all those twisty, hurtful feelings back down again.
“Then at least I won’t have to keep pretending to be someone I’m not,” he finishes, and angles his straw to poke viciously at a floating lump of ice. “I’m just…I’m really fucking tired of lying all the time, y’know? I’m never gonna be the son they want me to be, so I might as well tell them and get it over with.”
Binnie, ever his loyal, tenderhearted kitten, makes a soft noise of pained sympathy and abruptly slides off the opposite bench to move around the picnic table and plonk himself down beside Jungkook, arms encircling the bunny-hybrid in a tight hug as he scoots closer to nuzzle at the elder’s cheek.
Jungkook leans into the familiar contact gratefully, taking comfort in the werecat’s tactile affection, reaching down to squeeze one of the arms that’s wrapped tightly around his midriff.
“I’m okay,” he promises, even though his voice sounds a bit rough. “Really. It’s just been…on my mind a lot, lately. Sorry for venting.”
“Hey. It’s just us,” Yugyeom murmurs, looking faintly pained as he reaches across the table to squeeze Jungkook’s hand. “You never have to apologise for having feelings, bun. It’s a shitty situation, you’re allowed to vent. That’s what friends are for.”
Jungkook manages a strained smile in return. With that cloying feeling of stress-panic-grief rapidly fading, all that’s left behind is frustration, a niggling, restless itch deep beneath his breastbone. He sighs again, looking down at where their hands are joined.
“I know what I need to do, but I’ve been putting it off all summer,” he admits. “And now it feels like I’ve left it too long, y’know? My parents were already gonna flip their shit about me quitting uni out of the blue, but I’ve been lying to them ever since about the apartment and passing my exams and looking into apprenticeships, and now I need to tell them about everything that’s happened with the coven and art school, and it’s just… ugh. I don’t even know where to start. An email just doesn’t seem like it’s gonna be enough, especially since I’ve left them in the dark all these months - and there’s way too much to condense into a text message - but…but just the thought of trying to speak to them on the phone makes me wanna puke. I already know I’m gonna clam up the way I always do, and probably just end up lying to them all over again, and it’ll make things ten times worse.”
Yugyeom’s gaze is sympathetic, but his expression remains serious as he gives Jungkook’s hand another squeeze.
“You don’t have to be the one to tell them, you know,” the werewolf reminds him gently. “You’re officially part of the pack now, it’s legal and everything - and we both know that JB-hyung would literally jump at a chance to exercise his guardianship rights as your Named Alpha. Why don’t you let him handle it for you? He’s good at phone calls. It’s a clan-leader thing.”
A flicker of a smile curls at Jungkook’s lips, warmth blooming in his chest (despite the worry that still gnaws away deep down in his gut) at the reminder of his newly-officiated status as a member of the Im-pack, with all the protection and inter-community connections that title affords him.
Jaebum and his packmates have been acting as Jungkook’s pseudo-adoptive family for as long as he’s known them, at least in an unofficial capacity. The elder pack-hyungs had taken a vested interest in his wellbeing right from day one, after that fateful night during a campus Moon Run when Yugyeom had gone hurtling headfirst into a tree, giving himself a concussion and triggering the protective Alpha-Dom instincts of a certain pack leader (and scaring a good ten years off Jungkook’s life in the process). Within a matter of weeks, the Im-pack had become the family Jungkook had always longed for, Jaebum in particular offering himself as a steadfast pillar of support during a time when everything else in Jungkook’s life seemed to be falling apart around him. The Alpha had only ever been a phone call away; a calm, soothing voice of reason when things felt like they were spiralling out of control. Jungkook had clung to that lifeline like a man half-drowned, and Jaebum had never hesitated to reel him into the waiting arms of the pack as though he belonged there.
“I always knew you were supposed to be mine,” the Alpha had told him once, about six months after that first eventful Moon Run. “It was instinctive, right from the first moment I met you. You and Binnie were so scared, and Gyeomie was hurt, and I just wanted to hold all three of you in my arms and never let you go.”
The words had been softly murmured against Jungkook’s hairline as the hybrid sat curled up in the werewolf’s lap (following another stress-induced breakdown in the aftermath of a particularly gruelling coursework deadline), Jaebum’s hand stroking a soothing pattern up and down his back, the occasional rumbling purr filling the comfortable quiet of the otherwise empty living room.
“I’ll admit,” Jaebum had added, breathing a quiet laugh, “it took me a week or two to figure out why the link between us felt so…unique, compared to my connection with the betas. I’d never formed a platonic-bond on sight before. I felt that same resonance in my bond with Binnie, too - and it drove me crazy, because I couldn’t figure out why it felt so different. All I knew is that I wanted to keep the both of you safe, shield you from harm, provide for your every need - just not romantically. Which I couldn’t understand at all, because clearly the two of you were cute as hell.”
Jungkook had huffed a tearful laugh, prompting another kiss to his temple, soft lips smiling against his skin there, and Jaebum had continued, “But the heart wants what it wants, and a wolf’s mating call can’t be forced. So while I had to resign myself to the knowledge that you’d never be wholly mine, I could still love you as an Alpha and a hyung, guard you as one of my own. And that felt like enough. So I stopped questioning the specifics of it all and just let my instincts take hold, and everything else fell into place, easy as breathing. Now I can hardly remember how we used to manage before we filled the bunny-shaped hole in our pack.”
And Jungkook had giggled wetly at the cheesiness of it all, at the overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude that flowed through him at the knowledge that he’d somehow been lucky enough to find an Alpha who could offer him love and safety and protection with no strings attached - someone bigger and older and stronger than Jungkook who genuinely cared about him, a hyung who could be that a shoulder to cry on whenever the weight of the world grew too much, someone who wasn’t afraid to step in and gently wrestle Jungkook into bed whenever study-related anxiety amplified some of his more self-destructive habits.
Jaebum had never once hesitated to scold him as he would do one of the betas, and Jungkook has lost count of how often he’s found himself gently scruffed and given a chiding little shake after trying to pull one too many all-nighters ahead of deadlines. The Alpha never loses his temper with him, rarely even raises his voice above that low, cautioning murmur of “ Jungkookie”, but that had always been more than enough to crumble the last vestiges of his defences, and inevitably he’d end up wilting beneath the Alpha’s stern look and immediately acquiescing to the wolf’s gentle command to eat, sleep, take a day off, etc. Jungkook had never really known what it was like to have a hyung before Jaebum came along (and with him Jinyoung, and Mark, and Jackson, and all the rest of the pack) - and gods, thinking back on it, how had he even survived those first few months in Seoul without their borrowed hoodies and constant nagging and the endless Tupperwares of leftovers that stocked up his fridge?
He’d spoken on the phone to his parents a grand total of three times during his first year at SNU - his father preferred emails, his mother the occasional text message. Neither had been the one to initiate contact, that was always left to Jungkook, and it had gradually become harder and harder as time went on to press that call button.
Jaebum had spoken to him at least twice a week, right from the start - more frequently during exam seasons, when Jungkook was liable to forget to eat and sleep. Dinner with the Im-pack had become a regular occurrence, dinners that often segued into movie nights, which in turn became sleepovers, and Jungkook would finding himself tucked up snugly between several hyungs, bodies draped across each other in a tangle of long limbs, soothed by gentle platonic nuzzles and sleepy purrs, eagerly embracing the easy, tactile intimacy that were-folk generally tend to share with one another.
The closeness he’d formed with the pack was definitely different from the bond Yugyeom shared with his fellow wolves, but the hyungs had never treated him as lesser-than because of it. He’d been cherished with the same enthusiasm as the rest of the maknae-pups; spoiled within an inch of his life, fussed over and doted on by the elder hyungs, dragged off to see movies and snuck into late-night parties by the rest of the maknae-line, and scolded as a Im-pack pup right alongside them when they were inevitably caught. He’d wanted for nothing, except perhaps to know the sort of romantic infatuation that made Yugyeom go all dreamy-eyed whenever Jaebum smiled warmly in the younger wolf’s general direction.
And then he’d met the Kims, and finally he’d understood that ever so important distinction between packmate and bond mate. Because to be loved was one thing; to be in love was an entirely new and wonderful experience.
Being part of the coven hasn’t lessened his connection to Jaebum or the Im-pack, despite his initial tentative concerns - if anything, with Jungkook no longer working two part-time jobs (and a ridiculous number of extra shifts on top of that), he’s probably spent more time with the Alpha during these past nine weeks than he has done in the last twelve months combined. Between the pack’s twice-weekly movie nights, and Seokjin’s proclivity to host fancy twilight picnics at the drop of a hat (preparing luxurious feasts for large groups of people seems to genuinely delight the Primus, something that - according to Namjoon - harkens back to his early days as a Peacekeeper and the seasonal banquets of centuries past), it’s rare that Jungkook goes more than two days without seeing his Alpha.
Not to mention the fact that Jaebum and Seokjin seem to be constantly in cahoots about his wellbeing.
Seriously, he can’t sneeze without one or the other finding out.
Earlier in the summer, Jungkook, Binnie and Yugyeom had made the mistake of trying to sneak off to a midnight campus rave without telling the older hyungs (the not-telling part ultimately being the only issue there; apparently if they’d made their intentions known from the start, all would’ve been well). Still, in their defence, they’d been encouraged in their mischief by both Jimin and Taehyung, who’d cheerfully volunteered to create a distraction at the allotted hour of their planned escape - an event that had apparently somehow involved the griffin cubs, although Jungkook has never been permitted to hear the full story behind that one (Jin having sworn both maknae-vampire’s to silence, deeming them a corrupting influence on “Jungkookie’s good sense” ).
The three of them had made it as far as the campus entrance unhindered, before stumbling to a halt at the sight of Jaebum’s SUV already waiting for them at the drop-off zone, the Alpha leaning casually against the side of the vehicle with his hands in his pockets while a serene-looking Seokjin sat atop the front bonnet with one leg crossed over the other, sipping from a delicate hand-painted china tea cup.
“Ah! There you are,” had been the vampire’s pleasant greeting. “We were wondering when the three of you might turn up.”
Binnie had been the only one of them with the self-preservation instincts to abruptly turn around on the spot and go bolting off in the opposite direction, not that it had done him much good - with a soft, indulgent little sigh, Seokjin had slipped gracefully from the car (teacup tucked away only goddess knows where) and vanished into the night in a rustle of wind, reappearing again less than a minute later with a pouting werecat clamped securely in the circle of his arms. Jaebum had opened the passenger door of the SUV without comment to allow Jin to deposit the sulking kitten within, before turning an expectant gaze towards his two remaining pups.
“Alpha,” Yugyeom had tried to placate, a quiet whine that usually worked to soften his more easily-swayed pack hyungs, but the elder wolf had calmly raised a silencing hand, entirely unaffected by his bondmate’s doe-eyes.
“Get in the car, cubs,” Jaebum had ordered quietly. “We’ll talk about this later.”
And boy had that been a memorable conversation.
Seokjin and Jaebum alone were forces to be reckoned with, but working as a tag-team? Gods above, Jungkook had been ready to sink through the floor after less than a minute. Their in-tandem lecturing technique had been so utterly flawless that Jungkook had almost begun to suspect that the two of them had rehearsed it. And perhaps they had. Jin and Jaebum had grown immeasurably closer in the weeks that had followed Binnie’s car accident (and Jungkook’s caffeine overdose, and subsequent recovery), and by the time summer break officially began, it wasn’t uncommon to see Jin greeting the Alpha with the traditional forehead-press of close werewolf kin, a nonverbal declaration of the strong alliance that now existed between their two families.
“You don’t see it all that often anymore,” Yugyeom had told him a couple of months ago, warmth and happiness in his gaze as he watched Jaebum’s smile blossom into a soft grin at the press of Seokjin’s forehead against his own. “The kin-greeting, I mean. At least not outside of marriage ceremonies or historical dramas. By claiming the pack as kin, Jin-hyung’s basically acknowledging leader-to-leader that you’re still one us. JB-hyung might not admit to it out loud, but I know it means a lot to him - the pack being accepted by the coven, I mean.”
And truly, the Primus has gone out of his way to ensure the pack remained a central part of Jungkook’s life in the weeks since - including them in coven activities, maintaining an open-door policy so that any of the werewolves could drop by without invitation if they wanted to see Jungkook, even offering up his own territory during full moons so that the pack could enjoy the traditional Moon Run through the Kim-coven woods without needing to worry about running afoul of stray Alphas or opposing clans (the griffins had been thrilled at the sudden abundance of new playmates, and had promptly given chase through the forest, which certainly added an element of excitement to the whole event).
And it had been Seokjin who ultimately suggested officiating Jungkook’s status as a ward of the Im-pack. The conversation had taken place after yet another twilight picnic, long after the eating and drinking and outdoor rough-and-tumble games had ended, most of the assembled hyungs having settled down to sleep (or simply relax, in the coven’s case) beneath the stars, cuddled together in nesting piles of threes and fours.
“You’re already his family in all but title,” the Primus had pointed out gently when Jaebum had paused at the suggestion, the Alpha’s fingers stilling where they’d been combing through Jungkook’s hair as the hybrid lay stretched out alongside him on the thick picnic blanket, pretending to be asleep. “He’s chosen to bear the coven’s sigil, but he was bound to you first - you’re as important to him now as you were then, anyone can see that. Besides, I’ll gladly welcome all the help I can get in keeping him safe - and the blood protection you already offer him will strengthen once there’s a legal precedent. Guardianship ceremonies used to be commonplace before the turn of the century, you know. I still remember the old rites, if you’re interested.” A pause, then a quiet sigh. “Jungkookie. I know you’re awake, little one.”
Unable to keep up the pretence of sleeping after being called out, Jungkook had lifted his head to glance between them keenly, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, his chest so full of fluttering warmth that it felt fit to burst.
“You really mean it?” he’d pressed, keeping his voice hushed with no small amount of effort, conscious of the werewolf currently curled up against Seokjin’s side, Yugyeom’s face lax in sleep as he lay with his head pillowed on the vampire’s shoulder. “We could make it official?” He’d glanced at Jaebum, suddenly feeling shy. “I mean, is that something you’d want?”
And Jaebum had smiled, soft and fond and full of affection, his eyes shining beneath the pale glow of the starlit sky as he lifted a hand to brush a few strands of hair from Jungkook’s brow, before cupping warm fingers over his nape to draw him down and press their foreheads together.
“You’re already mine in my heart. We might as well get it in writing.”
And that had been that; the very next day, following a short ceremony (and a much longer afterparty) Jaebum had officially become his Named Alpha and guardian. Given Jungkook’s age and willing participation in the ceremony, it hadn’t been a legal requirement to inform his parents of the proceedings, so the whole affair had simply become yet another little secret to add to the already-extensive list of unspoken truths that Jungkook had rapidly begun to accumulate in recent months.
He’s no longer just a Jeon, but a Kim too, and now an Im on top of that.
So yes, while Jaebum certainly has the legal right to speak on his behalf - and would likely be more than happy to do so - Jungkook can’t think of a worse way for his parents to find out about his recent pack-adoption than a phone call from the pack-leader himself.
He loves his Alpha dearly, but wolves are a fiercely protective lot, and he can’t imagine such a conversation being anything less than…well, explosive, given all that the pack-Dom has come to learn about Jungkook’s difficult home life during their time together (not to mention the increasingly strained relationship with his parents these past two years), and the long term impact all of that has had on his mental health.
And even if the Alpha did have the patience to remain civil, Jungkook simply isn’t willing to place Jaebum directly in the line of fire on his behalf. There’s a protective streak that runs strong in leporidae folk too, and while Jungkook might only be half-hybrid, he’d rather take the brunt of his parents’ displeasure ten times over than allow them to hurl insults at the people he loves.
“No,” he sighs again, and manages a tired but resolute smile in Yugyeom’s direction. “I appreciate the offer, but this is something I need to handle on my own.”
Binnie hugs him tighter. “You’re never on your own. You’ve got us.”
Jungkook melts into the embrace a little more, his smile softening. “Thanks, Kitkat.”
“But seriously, Koo,” Yugyeom urges quietly. “This is too much for you to shoulder alone. You’re already stressed to the gills as it is.”
“You’ll tell the coven-hyungs, right?” Binnie presses, the werecat pulling away just far enough to look at him, his gaze uncharacteristically grave. “Don’t try to keep it to yourself - bottling things up like this always ends badly, you know it does.”
Jungkook’s lips part automatically to deny the accusation, before he thinks better of it and sighs again.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, slumping a little in resignation. “I know. I’ll tell them.”
And he’d better do it soon, too. He’s put it off long enough already.
…
Jungkook isn’t surprised to find Yoongi already waiting for him in Namjoon’s garden when he arrives home, deep maroon picnic blanket spread out across the luscious green grass beneath the weeping willow - it’s their favourite spot for afternoon tea, and the Seer always seems to know when Jungkook needs a cup of something warm and a patient listening ear.
“Jin-hyung sends his apologies,” Yoongi calls out to him as Jungkook makes his way along the pavestone pathway that meanders through the vast greenhouse, stepping over the low hedge-wall and heading up the gentle grassy slope that leads to the willow tree. “He was called away on Peacekeeping duties; apparently someone’s been felling trees along the border of the southern forest, the Fae-clans are out for blood. Messy business, I’m afraid.”
The Seer holds one long sleeve of his intricately embroidered silk hanbok out of the way as he lifts the teapot to pour a steaming dark-amber brew into two beautiful hand painted cups.
“He’ll be occupied for another few hours yet,” Yoongi continues, setting the teapot aside again and turning his kind, perceptive gaze towards Jungkook. “So I’m all yours.”
Smiling, because the warm, gentle curl to the corner of Yoongi’s pretty mouth still remains one of the loveliest sights he can think of - even after all these months - Jungkook toes off his shoes and gracefully sinks to his knees on the picnic blanket beside the vampire.
“Hi, hyung,” he greets sweetly, leaning in for a kiss, and Yoongi obliges, smiling against his lips as fingertips glide in a gentle caress down his cheek.
Yoongi cups his chin with soft, delicate fingers as the kiss breaks and breathes a soft laugh against his lips as Jungkook tries to steal another.
“Hi, bunny.”
The Seer holds him in place just long enough to gently brush their noses together in a greeting nuzzle, and Jungkook’s smile curls wider as he reciprocates.
It’s something all the hyungs have begun to do regularly this past month or so, ever since Jimin and Taehyung (after a long night spent researching bunny hybrid courting rituals) had loudly announced that mated leporidae hybrids greeted their significant others in such a fashion, and therefore the coven absolutely had do the same for Jungkook. He’d laughed at their seriousness, and reminded them again that he was only half-hybrid, that the old traditions hadn’t even been observed since his grandparents’ generation, and that the coven really didn’t need to make any special changes on his account - but all six of his bondmates had been undeterred, apparently finding the tactile greeting adorable, and bunny nose-rubs have since become a daily norm.
Not that Jungkook had made more than a token protest to begin with. Why would he ever want to turn down nuzzles?
“You’re home earlier than expected,” Yoongi murmurs as he pulls back an inch or so, just enough to regard him quietly, fingertips stroking along Jungkook’s jawline as his warm brown eyes study the hybrid closely.
Jungkook quirks an eyebrow in return, then glances down pointedly at the perfectly-brewed cup of tea sitting beside his knee.
“Looks to me like I’m right on time.”
Yoongi flashes him one of those cute, gummy smiles that gives Jungkook the urge to squish his soft-looking cheekies (despite knowing the vampire to be an ancient, ethereal creature of untold strength, unrivalled in the gift of foresight, and very definitely capable of bench-pressing Jungkook if he wanted to). He can’t help it. He has a terrible weakness for those gummy smiles.
The Seer leans in to peck another quick kiss to the younger man’s lips before pulling away to readjust the fall of his hanbok as he settles cross-legged on the blanket with effortless grace and poise.
“I anticipated your early arrival, that’s true enough - but that doesn’t negate the fact that you’d initially intended to remain with Binnie and Yugyeom until after dinner.” Yoongi plucks a jam tart from the pretty three-tiered cake stand sitting nearby, and raises the sweet treat to his bondmate’s lips, one hand cupped beneath the hybrid’s chin to catch the flakes of pastry that fall as Jungkook automatically bites into it. “I take it you didn’t go to the arcade after all?”
His mouth full of sweet strawberry tart, Jungkook simply shakes his head, fingers playing idly with the embroidered sleeve of Yoongi’s hanbok as he averts his eyes from the Seer’s all-knowing gaze.
“It’s not like you to miss out on a chance to spend more time with your friends,” Yoongi continues gently, offering him the second half the tart as soon as he’s swallowed his first mouthful, rendering Jungkook unable to interrupt his conjecturing. “Did something happen between the three of you? Perhaps a difficult conversation you might want to talk about?”
Jungkook pauses in chewing, his gaze flickering upwards briefly in surprise, before his shoulders slump in resignation. He swallows his mouthful and closes his eyes, tipping his head back with a sigh.
“How much do you already know?”
The Seer’s gift of foresight isn’t an exact science, he understands that.
“Some days dawn clearer than others,” Yoongi had once told him. “And a singular sequence of events might come to me with enough detail to accurately anticipate every possible linear deviation and how my own actions might affect the outcome - to a certain degree of probability, at least. On other days, it’s as though I’m standing in the centre of a crowd, with only the occasional snippet of clarity seeping through to help guide my steps. Meditation allows me to find a stable foothold amid the chaos, to choose a certain path to follow - but even then, details can be sparse, and I might find myself fixated on an event from a distant future and quite unable to see an accident due to befall me in the next five minutes. Foresight can often be frustrating like that - it blinds me to the obvious. That’s why on ‘loud days’ I pose something of a danger to myself - I’ve fallen down flights of stairs and walked into walls more times than I can count. Back in my fledgling days, poor Seokjinnie was near enough ready to go to war against the heavens themselves every time the stars aligned to throw my Sight into chaos. He used to be quite overprotective, you know. He’s mellowed significantly, this past half-century or so.”
A statement to which Jungkook had reacted with a startled “used to be?” in tandem with Taehyung and Jimin’s incredulous “mellowed?” - and thus, their conversation on the topic of foresight had promptly been derailed as they eagerly pressed Yoongi for details about their apparently-even-more-overprotective Primus of the coven’s early days, and his readiness to square up to the gods themselves in defence of those he loved.
Still, despite how the conversation had ended, Jungkook had learned enough about the Seer’s gift to understand that there’s a chance, however slight, that Yoongi isn’t aware of anything beyond the vaguest sort of notion that there’s currently something bothering Jungkook, something that he needs to confess - which is a conclusion any of the hyungs might’ve been able to come to simply by sensing his restlessness along the coven bond. They’ve ever been able to read him like an open book. However, there’s also an equal chance that the vampire is fully aware of every detail pertaining to his earlier discussion with Binnie and Yugyeom - and if that’s the case, he’d rather not rehash the whole conversation when he doesn’t need to. It had been difficult enough the first time.
“I know it has something to do with your parents,” the Seer tells him gently, dusting pastry crumbs off his fingers and reaching for his teacup, cradling it delicately between both hands as he blows on the steaming liquid to cool it. “You’re troubled by everything you haven’t been telling them these past few months.”
Jungkook winces.
He knows a lot, then.
An unexpected wave of relief washes over him with enough intensity that he feels the set of his shoulders slump. At least he won’t need to explain himself to the vampire in full - Yoongi already knows about the secrets he's been keeping, and clearly doesn’t judge him for it. He hadn’t been sure if any of the hyungs had even noticed - the coven tends not to ask Jungkook about his parents, all too aware of the tumultuous relationship that exists between them, and he’s likewise never felt inclined to bring them up in conversation, unwilling to put a dampener on the little pocket of bliss he’d managed to tumble into all those months ago. He’s found a place to call home with the Kims, and chosen family with the Im-pack, and it had been shamefully easy to push everything else to the back of his mind, at least for a little while.
“I wanted to tell them everything at the start of the summer,” he finds himself confessing, because it’s a lot easier to talk to Yoongi than anyone else - it’s always been easy, knowing that the Seer is already aware of whatever guilty secret he’s harbouring and still loves him anyway. “I wrote it all down in an email, but I never quite had the courage to send it. And after all this time, I guess it feels…I don’t know. Insufficient? Disrespectful? There’s so much more to say now than there might’ve been at the start of the summer, and so much has changed, and I haven’t spoken to either of them in so long. I should…I should call them, shouldn’t I?”
“Do you want to call them?” Yoongi asks him neutrally.
Jungkook swallows hard, hating how quickly that familiar flare of panic-grief-stress surges up to lodge a lump in his throat, and finds himself shaking his head silently.
“Then don’t,” the Seer concludes calmly, setting his teacup down again and reaching for Jungkook’s hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Nothing has to happen, bunny. Not today, not tomorrow - not until you’re ready. If you want your parents to know the truth, we’ll support you in taking that step - but you have every right to keep certain elements of your life hidden from them. You owe them nothing. Your health and happiness come first, always.”
It’s a familiar phrase, one that the hyungs (Seokjin and Namjoon in particular) have found reason to gently reiterate to him on several occasions over the past few months.
Learning to put himself first hasn’t been easy, and more than once he’s found himself freezing up over a decision that he knows his parents would disapprove of (buying clothes of all things, and getting another ear piercing, and of course the tattoo), wavering between the desire to live the life he wants and that deeply ingrained need to be a good son, to make them proud, to live up to their near-impossible expectations. The hyungs have never pushed him into make a decision either way, although they always seem to know when he’s hit that wall of indecision and invariably he’ll find himself accosted by a warm hug, a sympathetic smile, a soothing cup of tea, and an audience willing to sit and listen patiently as he muddles his way through his thoughts and feelings in an effort to figure out what he really wants.
And likewise, Yoongi doesn’t rush him now during the silence that lingers between them. The Seer reaches again for his teacup with one hand, the other still wrapped loosely around Jungkook’s wrist, gently stroking against the Kim-coven tattoo inked into his skin there.
Jungkook stares down at that point of contact, watching Yoongi’s thumb as it brushes back and forth against his skin. He recognises the motion as a vampiric settling technique, one that he’s seen the hyungs use on Tae fairly regularly - they’ll tug the fledgling down into their lap for a cuddle, and rub soothingly at the pale pin-prick scars that mark Tae’s wrists where Namjoon and Seokjin had given him the Bite - usually in an effort to coax Taehyung into settling down for a nap when he’s feeling restless or overly sun-weary, or reluctant to feed. The effect it has on the vampling is always instantaneous; Tae’s pupils dilating a little as he curls closer to whichever hyung has scooped him up for a cuddle, the fight going out of him within seconds as he melts into their embrace with a happy sigh.
“It’s like being hugged on the inside,” Taehyung had recently tried to explain, pressing reverent kisses to Jungkook’s relatively-new bonding tattoo. “I’m fully turned, obviously, but the Bite is what ties me to the hyungs, what makes me theirs, y’know? And when they touch the scars, it’s like that connection gets amplified a hundred times over, and I can feel how precious I am to them, how much they love me, and suddenly I’m so safe and warm and happy that I can scarcely breathe, it’s…it’s the best feeling, bun. I wish I could show you.”
Jungkook understands that feeling, at least a little. His soul-bond with the coven has only continued to strengthen over the course of the summer, channelled by the bonding magic Seokjin had poured into the amber pendant that Jungkook still wears around his neck (he’d only taken it off once, and felt so immediately bereft of that familiar connection, horribly adrift in the solitude of his own feelings, that he’d yanked it back on again almost straight away and immediately sought out the nearest hyung for a cuddle). He doesn’t feel the bond as keenly as the others do, he knows that - and he won’t, not until he’s given the Bite a few years from now - but he senses enough from his bondmates to find comfort in the constant reassurance of the love and affection they feel for him.
The coven tattoo on his wrist doesn’t serve to amplify that bond the way that Bite-scars do for Taehyung, but he still thinks it’s sweet that the hyungs try to soothe him that way, as though he’s just another fledgling in their eyes. He finds himself smiling as he watches the slow, gentle movement of Yoongi’s thumb against his skin, comforted by the gesture despite the absence of magic, and after a beat he reaches for his own teacup with his free hand, taking a sip and savouring the warmth and and fragrance of the fruity-floral blend, allowing himself to relax slowly as the easy silence lingers around them.
“I want to tell them the truth, hyung,” he says eventually, long after his cup has been drained and set aside. “I know I don’t have to, but…I think I need to.” He pauses briefly, then glances up to meet Yoongi’s patient gaze. “Not for them. For me. I don’t want this hanging over me when classes start up next week.”
The smile Yoongi gives him is soft, proud and gently encouraging.
“I think that’s probably for the best,” the Seer agrees, giving his wrist a gentle squeeze.
Jungkook manages a strained sort of smile, then huffs a short sigh and adds, “I don’t think I’m brave enough to call them, not yet - but I can manage an email, at least. It’s already written, all I have to do is hit send.”
“And are you sure you’re ready to tell them everything?” Another kind, understanding smile. “There’s no right or wrong answer here, baby. You can tell them as much or as little of the truth as you see fit.”
Again, Jungkook pauses to consider the question. Is he sure? He’s tired of lying to his parents about art school, and about quitting his business degree, and keeping up the pretence of being the Perfect Son for all these years. He needs them to know the truth about the kind of life he really wants to live. But…does he want to tell them about the hyungs? About becoming a bonded member of a vampire coven? Being adopted by the Im-pack?
That niggling worry flares up again at the thought of his parents' displeasure being directed towards his loved ones instead of Jungkook. About them turning up on the edge of the Kim-coven territory and causing issues, or worse, trying to form alliances for their own benefit. He knows Seokjin and Namjoon have undoubtedly faced fiercer adversaries in their long years as coven-leaders, and there’s probably nobody in South Korea better equipped to deal with petty family drama than the Peacekeeper of Seoul himself, but still. Jungkook doesn’t want to put any of the hyungs in that position if he can help it.
“No,” he murmurs after a beat, and feels Yoongi’s fingers tighten briefly around his wrist in another gentle squeeze, bolstering his courage. He takes another deep breath. “I can’t…I’m not…”
“You don’t need to tell them anything that you’re not ready to share,” the Seer reminds him softly. “Your private life is your own, Jungkookie. Who you choose to love isn’t any of their business unless you want it to be.”
Jungkook feels his shoulders sag again in relief. Of course Yoongi knows - he’s always had a knack for identifying the very heart of Jungkook’s problem and laying out his options in a way that makes everything seem so clear. And seeing the gentle understanding in the vampire’s warm gaze, the lack of judgement in the elder’s expression at the knowledge that Jungkook wants to keep the coven a secret for a little while longer, is enough to unravel the remaining coil of guilty anxiety knotted in his chest.
Before his renewed courage can falter, or the anxious inner whisperings can return with avengence, Jungkook quickly fishes his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and unlocks it, tapping on the email icon and clicking into his drafts, opening the unfinished confession-essay with grim determination.
It’s the work of mere seconds to locate the part where he’d very, very briefly detailed his decision to bond with a vampire coven and move into their home, and the few sentences about Jaebum’s decision to adopt him into the Im-pack, highlighting the short paragraphs and deleting them quickly, before skim-reading through the rest of the email just to make sure he hasn’t brought the topic up again anywhere else. He only lingers briefly on the closing paragraph - because it still hurts, that raw admission that he hopes they’ll come to accept him for who he is - but having Yoongi beside him, the Seer’s hand a gentle band of strength around his wrist, is enough to keep his resolve from wavering.
He hesitates only briefly before adding a simple “I love you both” and signing off the email with his name (Jungkook, not Kookie, because his parents haven’t called him that since he was nine), but he still finds his thumb hovering indecisively over the send icon just as it had done two months ago when he’d first written the damn thing.
Movement out of the corner of his eye distracts him briefly, but Yoongi’s only shifting closer to stroke a comforting hand between his shoulders.
“I’m here, bun,” the vampire soothes. “I’m right here with you. Take your time, there isn’t a deadline on this.”
Except there is, or at least a mental one. Summer’s coming to an end, next week he’ll officially be attending SNU as a first-year art student instead of a third-year business and economics student, and he doesn’t want this hanging over him like a dark cloud as he finally begins the first chapter of his new life free from unwanted academic stress. He wants to leave all of this behind him, or at least as much of it as he can, and putting an end to all the lies and pretence is the first step towards achieving that goal.
Determination renewed, he taps his thumb against send before he can talk himself out of it again, and watches with an anxious sort of flutter in his stomach as the screen pauses before the wall of text disappears.
Email sent.
His breath rushes out of him in a loud, shaky whoosh, but almost instantaneously he feels lighter, as though a physical weight has fallen from his shoulders, and he finds himself listing sideways into Yoongi’s ready embrace, tossing his phone behind him on the grass without care just to get it out of sight, mentally exhausted but so, so relieved to have it finally over and done with.
Yoongi’s lips brush against his temple. “I know that was difficult, and I’m so proud of you. It…it’s better, that it happens this way, while you’re here with me. Everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”
The words sound a little off, but he’s grown used to Yoongi’s occasionally cryptic statements over the past several months, and he simply cuddles closer into the vampire’s embrace.
“Thanks, hyung,” he murmurs, turning his head to brush a kiss against Yoongi’s cheek.
The vampire’s arms tighten around him briefly, and he hears Yoongi sigh, an unusually grim sort of sound that finally has Jungkook lifting his head from the Seer’s shoulder to peer at him in concern.
Yoongi’s smile is gentle, but there’s something about his eyes that looks pained all of a sudden, an overwhelming sort of sadness that Jungkook can sense across their bond.
“You’re going to be okay,” the Seer reiterates softly, the backs of his fingers stroking in a soothing caress down his cheek. “I need you to remember that, baby. Everything’s going to turn out alright in the end. I promise. I’m here with you, and I love you. We’ll get through this together.”
Confused (and faintly alarmed) by the sudden gravity behind the vampire’s words, Jungkook tilts his cheek into the elder’s touch.
“I love you too,” he returns automatically, then pauses, a fluttering sort of worry stirring in his chest once more. “Hyung? I don’t-”
“Sorry I’m late!”
Jungkook jerks back, sitting up with a noise of pleasant surprise, head swivelling to the right in time to see Hoseok neatly jumping over the low hedge that borders the pavestone pathway down below, the empath’s smile one of pure sunshine as he jogs up the grassy slope towards them.
“You’re right on time,” Yoongi reassures him, and pulls away from Jungkook to reach into the nearby picnic basket, producing a third teacup and matching saucer. “Tea? I borrowed Seokjinnie’s teapot, so it’s still piping hot.”
Hoseok makes a cheerful noise of agreement, legs folding beneath him as he drops down smoothly to sit beside Jungkook and leans in to press a kiss to his temple, one hand settling comfortably across the younger man’s nape in a tender squeeze. Careful fingers gently cradle his chin, turning his head to the side just enough that Hoseok can lean in to brush his nose against Jungkook’s in greeting nuzzle before pulling away again, his gaze is full of gentle understanding.
“Rough day, sweetheart?”
And Jungkook hadn’t even consciously realised how much he’d been aching for the empath’s comforting touch until he finds himself practically melting beneath Hoseok’s steadying hold on his nape.
The vampire’s arm circles around him in brief side-hug, and then he’s being shifted, effortlessly manoeuvred to sit in Hoseok’s lap, that familiar wave of safe-love-peace washing over him along their soulbond as the empath guides Jungkook’s head down to rest against his shoulder and squeezes the back of his neck more firmly, and for several minutes all Jungkook feels inclined to do is close his eyes and bask in it, simply letting the vampire hold him close, Hoseok sipping quietly at his tea and allowing the easy, comfortable silence to linger between them.
He’s safe. He’s loved. Everything is alright.
“There now,” Hoseok murmurs an indeterminable amount of time later, and Jungkook hears the soft chink of an empty teacup being set down in its saucer before a hand rubs slow circles against his lower back, the fingers that have crept up from his nape into his hair massaging deeper to rub against his scalp. “Feeling better, bun?”
Jungkook nods, finally lifting his head enough to brush a kiss against Hoseok’s cheek, before sitting up a little straighter in his lap to offer the empath a tired, grateful smile.
“Much better, thanks. I didn’t think you’d be home already.” Jungkook tilts his head to one side curiously. “Didn’t you have a thing at the aquarium today? Setting up a new tank or something.”
“Or something,” Hoseok echoes, amused, and presses another kiss to his brow. “The others can handle it. I was really only there for moral support.”
Jungkook feels his lips twitch. “For who, the fish or the staff?”
“Both,” Hoseok replies cheerfully without missing a beat, and gives him another gentle squeeze. “But I’d much rather be here with you. Wanna talk about it?”
Jungkook has to pause at that, struck by a sudden thought. How had Hoseok known that he’d be home earlier than expected? The empath’s ability to sense emotional turmoil in his bondmates is unparalleled, certainly, but to his knowledge Hoseok has never been able to form a long-distance connection. Within the Kim-coven territory is one thing; from the opposite side of Seoul is quite another. Jungkook had discovered firsthand earlier in the summer just how in-tune with the coven Hoseok could be - he’d been sitting upstairs on the padded window-seat in his art studio, crying over a particularly emotional dog rescue video on YouTube, when he’d witnessed Hoseok come hurtling out of the forest down below and dart across the clearing at a full sprint before disappearing into the house, and not thirty seconds later the empath had appeared in the doorway, concern written across his features as Jungkook blinked up at him in tearful surprise. Apparently good-crying and bad-crying weren’t so easy to distinguish from a distance, and Hoseok had sensed Jungkook’s distress from deep within the forest and assumed the worst. They’d laughed about it afterwards, and then cried over animal-rescue videos together for the rest of the afternoon.
Still, since Hoseok has never once called home in a panic whenever Jungkook has gotten upset in the empath’s absence, presumably there’s a limit to how far those emotions can transmit along their bond.
Which again begs the question - how had Hoseok known that Jungkook would be home earlier than expected and in need of a cuddle?
Jungkook’s gaze slides suspiciously towards Yoongi, who’s suddenly made himself busy refilling their teacups and arranging a selection of Hoseok’s favourite pastries onto a plate.
“Hyung,” Jungkook intones. “You didn’t.”
“Hm?” Yoongi hums without looking up from his task, and Jungkook just knows.
“Hyung,” he sighs, faintly aggrieved. “You don’t have to bother Hobi-hyung whenever I’m being dumb about something. I would’ve been fine.”
“Mm,” the Seer acknowledges distractedly, and holds a bite-size square of honey-cheese bread to his lips. “Here, baby.”
Jungkook allows himself to be fed the proffered treat - only because it’s his favourite, and he’s a little peckish - but he still levels a faint frown of disapproval in Yoongi’s direction as he chews. Although judging by the way the Seer’s lips tick up a little at the corners, it’s probably closer to a pout.
The arms around him squeeze again, strong and reassuring.
“You know I don’t mind coming home if someone needs me, bunny,” Hoseok murmurs, pressing another kiss to his brow. “And I’m glad to know you’re feeling better already, but Yoongi-hyung was only looking out for you. None of us like to see you upset.”
And Jungkook can’t argue with that, not when Hoseok;s being all reasonable, so the pout quickly fades as he swallows his mouthful and sends Yoongi a grateful little smile instead.
The Seer returns the smile, but that painfully sad sort of something still lingers in his faraway gaze, and Jungkook knows he isn’t the only one to notice it when he sees Hoseok pausing as he reaches for his refilled teacup.
Jungkook feels the empath go still behind him in that quiet, watchful sort of way of his, before Hoseok’s hand moves away from his teacup to lightly touch Yoongi’s knee instead.
“Hon?”
Yoongi’s smile looks wan now, a glazed sort of distance to his once-focused eyes, and Jungkook feels concern pricking in his own chest at the sight of it because that’s never a good sign.
Apparently Hoseok agrees, because the empath presses one last kiss to Jungkook’s temple before gently shifting the hybrid out of his lap so that he can move closer to Yoongi, kneeling behind the Seer and murmuring softly against his ear as he wraps himself around the shorter man in a comforting backhug, drawing the elder vampire against his chest.
Yoongi shakes his head, closes his eyes, and lifts a slightly shaking hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as though to stave off a headache.
Jungkook makes a faintly worried noise in the back of his throat and scoots closer to the pair of them. He knows certain visions can overwhelm the Seer at times, especially ones associated with strong emotions or unpleasant situations, and at least once a week he'll find Yoongi with his head in Namjoon’s lap, his breathing ragged and his forehead pinched in discomfort as the healer traces runes across his brow in an effort to ease the tension there. Sometimes the pain isn’t a physical thing, though, and he’s seen that edge of distressed helplessness in Namjoon’s expression more than once when the elder vampire’s gentle ministrations haven’t helped to soothe Yoongi’s discomfort. Oftentimes only Seokjin can put an end to it, halting the onslaught of visions with the painless oblivion of an enforced sleep.
“You should’ve called me sooner, love,” Hoseok chides softly, concernedly. “I would’ve been home hours ago if I’d known it was a Loud Day.”
Yoongi shakes his head again, his eyes still closed and expression faintly pained.
“It’s not loud, just…unpleasant.” The Seer drags a hand down his face and sighs again, sounding impossibly weary. “It was going to happen either way - a fixed point, completely unavoidable - but here and now is better. Outside the nest would’ve been…worse, goddess, so much worse. We wouldn’t have been there to help in the aftermath, he would’ve been all alone- ”
“Okay,” Hoseok breathes, a calming acknowledgement in the face of Yoongi’s growing grief, although it’s clear he’s just as concerned as Jungkook feels, cheek pressed against the side of Yoongi’s head as he holds the vampire secure in his arms. “Shhh, come on back to me. We don’t need to focus on what might’ve been. Anchor yourself to my voice, don’t go wandering too far. We’re at home, nobody’s in danger. You’re safe here in the garden, Jungkookie and I are with you.”
“Jungkookie,” Yoongi echoes, and some of the grief that had previously thickened his voice seems to abate as his foggy gaze flickers sideways towards the hybrid. “Yes. I needed you here for Jungkookie.”
“Mm, you did good - but Koo’s fine now,” Hoseok soothes, and flashes the hybrid a warm, reassuring smile, no doubt sensing Jungkook’s growing alarm at Yoongi’s worsening condition. “Aren’t you, bunny?”
Nodding, Jungkook scoots closer still to take one of Yoongi’s hands between his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze and mustering up as bright a smile as he can manage when the Seer’s faraway gaze refocuses on him.
“I’m okay, hyung, really,” he promises, and finds he means it - a brief time cuddling with Hoseok has worked wonders on his emotional stability, as always.
Yoongi stares at him a moment longer, his eyes still faintly glazed, before squeezing his hand in return.
“You will be,” the Seer agrees, with absolute certainty. “We’re right here with you. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
Jungkook and Hoseok share a brief, worried glance, but before the younger of the two can voice his growing perplexion, Yoongi’s gaze flickers off to the side, focusing on something a short distance over Jungkook’s shoulder. The younger man turns, half-expecting to see another hyung standing there (perhaps Seokjin, who always seems to know when Yoongi’s visions are becoming too much for him to bear), but his gaze instead zeroes in on his discarded phone lying innocuously on the grass.
Then the darkened screen lights up, and the vibrating bzzzzt of an incoming-call cuts through the peaceful silence of the garden.
He’s just close enough that he can see the caller ID, and Jungkook feels the bottom drop out of his stomach, a horrible icy chill making his limbs freeze and stealing the breath from his lungs as he realises exactly what Yoongi had been seeing - this inevitable, unavoidable, unpleasant thing looming so rapidly in his near-future that it had briefly overwhelmed the the vampire's foresight.
“Kookie?” is Hoseok’s concerned murmur, and there’s a shuffling sound as the empath presumably unwraps himself from around Yoongi. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Who’s calling?”
Jungkook’s quite forgotten how to speak. How to breathe. And there’s a very real possibility that he might puke.
“You don’t have to answer it,” Yoongi tells him, sounding faintly urgent and far more present than he had been only moments ago, that distant sort of weariness gone from his voice. “Koo? Baby, you can let it go to voicemail.”
No he can’t.
He’s never been able to let it go to voicemail before, and old habits die hard.
Sensing Hoseok shifting closer, and feeling as though he might shatter into a million devastated pieces beneath the empath’s comforting touch, Jungkook rolls to his feet quickly, swiping the discarded phone from the grass and striding off towards the koi pond, barely managing to swerve at the last minute to circle around the body of water and put a little more distance between himself and his hyungs, steadfastly ignoring the concern and alarm radiating across their coven bond as he drops down to sit on the low stone bench.
His breathing has grown rapid and a little tremulous, and as he stares at the caller ID for another slow, torturous bzzzzt of a second, it’s all he can do to keep himself from shaking like a leaf.
Almost in a trance, he finds his free hand moving, his finger hovering over the screen, and then he’s tapping the glowing phone icon to accept the call and shakily raising the phone to his ear, gripping it so tight that he hears the plastic casing creak beneath his fingers.
He swallows again, past what feels like a boulder trapped in his throat.
“Hi, appa…”