Chapter Text
“We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.”
— Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
~*~
Seokjin is out watching the sunrise when he hears a piercing roar split through the dawn sky.
Most people would be surprised, or at the very least, slightly startled, because your average person wouldn't normally hear a dragon roar on the reg. Sadly, for Seokjin, this is a far too common an occurrence for him to be even remotely phased.
But Seokjin still doesn't move, watching the gradual climb of the sun across the morning sky, and after a few seconds, he sighs, looking at the ground where a bird, a sparrow, had landed nearby, minding its own business.
“It's going to be one of those days today, isn't it?” He says to the sparrow, who jerks up at his words, freezing, before it flies away.
Seokjin sighs again.
By the time he walks back into his house, there's already a commotion inside. Yoongi must have let himself in, and Taehyung must have finally managed to drag himself out of his bed. He's getting better at that. Maybe Seokjin should commend him.
He doesn't. But mostly because he forgets, because by the time he steps back into his house, walking to where his infirmary is, his patient has already been lain down on the cot, and his apprentice is running up to him, having done a preliminary examination and is trying to explain everything that he's found, and then there's also his patient's mentor, who's yelling at Seokjin and everything is just so chaotic and noisy and—
It's always so satisfying, the silence, when Seokjin does an unexpected thing, like reaching out and placing his two index fingers upon Taehyung's and Yoongi's lips.
“Hush.” He says, unnecessarily. “I know what needs to be done. There's a nasty wound in his side that could only have been caused by the jaws of a houziyao of Kulunshan . And to top it off, the boy must have disturbed a nest of qiyuan . He's filled with the venom of not one, but three qiyuan stings.”
“Hyung,” Taehyung speaks now despite Seokjin's finger against his lips. “Do you need my help.”
“Thank you for offering, Tae. But no, this is a little too difficult for you. But if you could maybe brew some tea for Yoongi here and get him to relax— ah… Yoongi-ah. Stop squirming and calm down. I've got this. You know I do.”
Yoongi pulls away, a scowl deep in his face. “You better. I sped flew that brat across an ocean for this. If he dies, that would have wasted all my effort.”
“Mhmm.” Seokjin agrees, lowering his hands and walking towards his patient. “It would. So you better get out. Your being in this room would only be a distraction for me.”
Yoongi pauses in puzzlement, trying to figure out whether that last sentence had been a compliment or insult. But by the time he's decided, Taehyung has already taken the opportunity to start leading him out. Yoongi's mouth is probably opening and closing in some sort of comedic manner, like a goldfish's would, but Seokjin doesn't see. He's already turned around to face his patient, the carefully crafted carefree look on his face wiped away.
His patient is still, almost as if in death. But Seokjin know it is but the stasis spell that he'd taught Yoongi to use in times like these. He knows that the moment he pulls it off, his patient will start writhing in pain, poison coursing through his body digging deeper with each struggling breath his patient takes. The poison is only marginally worse than the chunks of flesh that have been bitten off his patient's side. Blood will start to gush again, staining the cream sheets he's used to line the cot with a blooming red.
His hand is already glowing, cupping his patient's cheek even as his other makes to draw the symbols that would dispel the stasis spell. The expression on his patient's face eases a little, which eases the ache that had settled in his heart, seeing his patient so terribly hurt like this.
He's always had a particular soft spot for this patient of his, after all. Even with how much pain this patient always brings with him.
“You're such an idiot, Jeon Jungkook.” Seokjin whispers, lips brushing over the young hero's ear before he gets to work.
~*~
Seokjin wakes up to a hand carding through his hair.
It's a hand that's impossibly gentle and yet Seokjin knows is filled with undeniable strength, calluses in places only a hand that has held a weapon would have. It's also a familiar hand, and yet unfamiliar — because Seokjin can remember a time it wasn't so big and callused. Can remember when this hand was young and soft and clinging to his own as he’d brought a beautiful, bright-eyed child out for a walk in his garden, ears ringing with the sound of happy laughter.
The child has since grown. The hand has gotten bigger. But Seokjin knows that this hand is no less kind, no less beautiful than the child's hand he'd once held in his own.
But still—
But still.
He closes his eyes and pretends for a little longer. Pretends to be asleep, and pretends that other thing — that thing he'll never allow himself to have.
“Jin-hyung.” A gentle voice calls after a while, even if the stroking motion doesn't stop. “I know you're awake.”
And Seokjin sighs. “Is Yoongi peering into the room from outside like an overbearing parent again?”
There's a laugh in Jungkook's voice as he says, “yeah. He is. That's the only reason why I called you out.”
“Hmph,” Seokjin doesn't move. “Ignore him. I want more of my beauty sleep. I was probably going to fall back asleep anyway. That healing session was exhausting.”
“Then you should go back to your own bed.” Jungkook's hand doesn't stop it's gentle stroking. “It would be more comfortable than half falling off the bedside of a healing cot.”
“Nghhh…” and it's probably because he's too tired and Seokjin even says, “you're just trying to get out of hair stroking duties.”
Seokjin doesn't know why he doesn't see the reply coming. “Well, if you invite me to your bed, I'd be very happy to continue my hair stroking duties there.”
Seokjin turns to give Jungkook a look, and the hand in his hair stills. He sighs, straightening so that Jungkook has to remove his hand, dusting his knees as he stands. “You're incorrigible.”
Jungkook looks sheepish, and for all he his grown, for all his reputation as a mighty hero across the kingdoms, there's still a boyish look on his face, and Seokjin is reminded just how young Jungkook is to be carrying the burden of being the hero of the Kingdom of Ren, to be out there facing dangerous monsters and probable death nearly every single day.
Jungkook stills as Seokjin's hands reach out, gently prodding the young hero's side. The skin is smooth and unblemished now, almost looking too new; but just hours ago, it'd been marred by blood, a chunk of flesh just gone, having been torn out by the vicious fangs of monsters. “You're an idiot, Jeon Jungkook. Getting bitten by houziyao ? I thought you had more skill than that.”
“To be fair,” Jungkook snorts, “I got this because Yoongi-hyung was preoccupied, and I stepped in the way. The qiyuan stings were only because they got drawn out of their hives, attracted to my blood.”
Seokjin's eyes glance to the side where he can feel Yoongi basically glaring at them through the window from outside. “Is that why he's being more overbearing than usual?”
And Jungkook throws his head back and laughs, the sound light and cheery. “Probably.”
Jungkook has grown. But his eyes are still bright with the force of youth and life.
And he's still so, so beautiful.
“Hyung?”
Seokjin realizes he's stayed still for too long, staring at Jungkook before he shakes his head. He lets his hand drop back to his side. “Nothing. You're still an idiot.”
Jungkook splutters at that, even as Seokjin grins, and he turns around to leave. “Get some more rest. You might be healed now, but your body went through an ordeal. Taehyung will come in with food maybe an hour later, and make sure to eat everything, alright? Even the beets.”
“Hyung!” And Seokjin is amused to see Jungkook widening his eyes at Seokjin, trying to make himself look as innocent and adorable as possible. “You love me, right?”
Seokjin's heart skips a beat, but he shows naught of it on his face. “Yes?”
“Then… you wouldn't force me to eat the beets… right.”
There's a wheedling in his voice now, a childish whine that brings Seokjin back. It makes things a little easier, remembering that Jungkook is still the same little kid who Seokjin had to wheedle to eat his vegetables.
Seokjin shrugs, “you're right. I do love you, Jungkookie.” And he pauses for dramatic effect. “But that's exactly why I'm making you eat your beets.”
Seokjin laughs obnoxiously as he leaves the room, with the humorously anguished cries of Jungkook behind. Outside, Yoongi seems to be a little less worried and expression more skeptical and resigned. Seokjin raises an eyebrow, wondering what Yoongi's expression is about. He doesn't pause in walking as he throws out a, “did you really not trust me to heal him, Yoongi-ah? I'm the qilin of legend. As long as he's not dead when you bring him here, I will always bring him back.”
Yoongi say anything under Seokjin has made the end of the corridor. And when he does, the words are so soft, he might as well has whispered them under his breath. “So… you love him, huh?”
Yoongi isn't given an answer. But then, he hadn't been expecting one after all.