Chapter Text
Seokjin’s grandfather used to brag that the Kim Convenience Store had been in the family's possession as far back as the Joseon dynasty.
Seokjin now knew that wasn’t true, because when his mother had died and left him the store in inheritance, he’d spent afternoons wafting through old documents, looking for ownership acts and building permits.
The establishment had been built in the 40s, and then had been expanded after the civil war had torn a good chunk of it down.
So even if the myth of Joseon’s first convenience store had been busted, four generations of Kims had owned the little store and had made it thrive.
Now, the responsibility for their pride and joy fell into Seokjin’s hands.
Wingfolk didn’t believe in ghosts, but Seokjin could swear that he felt expectant eyes on him, weighing him down.
His mother had loved telling him about the story of the Kim Convenience. In one of his earliest memories, he sat cocooned by her white dove wings, one hand carding through his hair and the other grooming Seokjin’s still soft auburn feathers.
“This store is our family’s first love. It gives us to eat, and enough to live comfortably. But that’s only because we make it work. We take care of the customers. We smile, and we are courteous, and we do everything we can to help them. We take care of the store. We keep it tidy and organized, always stocked full and inviting. If you work hard, life will reward you.”
These were just the foundations of the Rules.
They covered everything, from inventory to exposition, to customer service.
His grandmother had written them all down in a book, so as not to forget.
His mother had inherited it. Had scraped a few very outdated rules, wrote some more.
Seokjin had just copied them all in a Word Document, hidden away in a folder in his laptop that he never opened, because he knew them all by heart.
Jungkook did not follow the rules.
He wrote inventory on loose tissue paper. He joked around with the customers, with a smile and a crinkle in the corner of his eyes. He chewed gum, sang aloud even when there were customers shopping, and practiced U-turns in the aisles, big wings flapping open and losing feathers all over the floor.
But he never got inventory wrong. The customers always came back and asked after him. Jungkook made toddlers smile, and got teenagers to sing along with him, and always tidied up the messes he’d made with a sheepish smile. Most of all, Jungkook was a hard worker and a distressingly genuine person.
Seokjin knew he had scored gold when he had hired him.
“Hyung!” Jungkook took a step towards him before flying the rest of the way to the register. They brushed feathers in greeting, Jungkook’s black sleek wings a sharp contrast to Seokjin’s softer ones. Then Jungkook’s head swiveled around suspiciously, checking that they were alone, and he slammed a scrunched-up flier on the counter, eyes wide and excited.
“Hyung, look what I found!” his voice was barely a whisper, but Seokjin could pick out the ghost of a giggle in his tone.
“What-”
Jungkook screeched in excitement, feathers ruffling. That second, Seokjin caught a familiar glimpse of color on the flier, still too balled up to be recognizable but distinctively neon, blues and purples so bright and that hint of orange- “Supernova Street Flyinmph-”
“Don’t say it.”
The younger tugged Seokjin’s hand away from his mouth, pout already on his lips.
“What? You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I know enough. And it’s not true. No way.” There was no way it could be real. It would hurt Seokjin too much if it were real.
“It is! The Supernova will be held in Seoul this year! Agh, I can’t believe it!” Jungkook slumped over the counter, wings open and feathers dragging all over Seokjin’s documents.
Seokjin wasn’t present enough to be annoyed.
The Supernova Street Flying Cup. One of the world’s most famous international underground flying competitions.
Seokjin's mind went back to his childhood room, just two floors above the store, locked and dusty. To the posters displaying feathers and strong wings and now outdated and cringe-worthy outfits and glasses in neon colors. His wings fluttered excitedly, unrestrained before he remembered to reign them in.
The Supernova had been his dream, before he had grown enough for his parents to pry it softly from his fingers and place the family business in its stead.
Now he kept away from it all, from anything that might make his heart beat again.
Jungkook jumped up again. “Do you think Bangtan will be there?”
Lock and key. Lock and key.
He shrugged, replying absent-mindedly. “They’re pretty big on the Korean scene, aren’t they? It would be stupid for them to miss this opportunity.”
“Ah! Hyung, I didn’t know you kept up with underground flying!”
Seokjin’s wings tensed up, tendons and muscles pulled so tautly that he was afraid his feathers might start shaking. His hands faltered as he sifted through old order bills.
“You’re always talking my ear off about them, what do you expect? Now pick up your feathers and go to work, I don’t pay you to laze around.”
Jungkook huffed but did as he was asked, as always.
After the incident, Seokjin had accepted to stay away from underground flying. Had thrown all his merchandise in a box left abandoned in a corner of his closet, and had kept his old dreams out of sight and out of mind.
He had graduated high school and went straight to working full time at the Kim Convenience.
Then money got tight, and he picked up some shifts at a shoddy bar on the outskirts of town.
A regular, hardworking citizen that contributed to society.
Except that all the seals that kept underground flying firmly outside his life came loose at the bar, and shards of old dreams managed to seep through.
Stray fliers advertising underground competitions appeared on the bulletin board of the bar, loose tissues with flocks’ stats scribbled on top were left abandoned at the tables, and if Seokjin focused on the soft buzz of conversations he could pick out a name, here and there, a particularly lively debate on a past competition, or a discussion on the flocks that made the history of underground flying.
He didn’t, of course.
Lock and key.
A few times, though, on particularly hard nights, he would allow himself one look at the bulletin board, at the wingfolks posing with their wings painted and puffing out, publicizing derbies and events.
One night, now over two years ago, had been a particularly challenging one. His dad had been sick for over a week now, with no sign of recovering, but the store couldn’t stop, and on top of everything else, Seokjin and his mom had been stretching themselves thin trying to cover for the empty spots that his father had left behind.
The light in the washing room at the end of the shift had painted his skin with a greenish tinge and deepened the bags under his eyes, but Seokjin could see no difference with how he felt inside.
His body stopped in front of the bulletin board without being told to do so.
A very badly made flier was inviting people for try-outs for a new flock.
In a corner, letters faded from the light streaming in through the window in the daytime read “Supernova” on a blue background.
He looked away.
At that moment, he heard it.
“Heard that Bangtan picked up a new member, Hope or something.”
“When I become a professional, I’ll have people call me Hope.”
The memory came to the forefront of his mind with an egoistic shove. Suddenly Seokjin was back in the school courtyard, back when his wings and joints used to hurt because he was growing so fast.
In front of him, a slender boy. His chest was puffed outwards, wings spread and died golden by the late afternoon sun.
Seokjin had snorted. “It sounds kinda lame.”
A surprised chuckle had torn itself from the other’s throat, blooming into an endeared laughter that painted a heart on his lips.
“He’s fast but struggles a lot with right-hand turns.”
The laughter faded and reality bled in again.
“Yeah, that cost them the relay race the other week, right? Must be because of an old injury or something.”
The guilt punched the breath out of his lungs. Seokjin closed his eyes
Nothing had changed. Except that everything had.
The scrawny boy that used to get made fun of for being all knees and elbows and scrappy wings had made it.
The scrawny boy that Seokjin had left in a hospital bed and though he would have never seen again, had accomplished what had been both of their dreams.
And Seokjin- Seokjin stayed.
After closing and parting ways with Jungkook, he flew two floors up to his apartment. He tried not to think about Supernova, tried not to think about what was behind that locked door across the hall. He failed. He still remembered the weight of his Supernova trophy keychain in his hands, when he had bought it with his first-ever pocket money from helping around the store.
A competition this big would not only mean underground flocks swarming the city but also a lot more smaller races and events taking place for the whole duration of the Cup.
All this might at least bring new customers to the store. God knew they needed some.
He salvaged some stir fry noodles from vegetables that weren’t good-looking enough to sell but good enough to eat. He hummed to himself as he washed the dishes. Turned off the lights, moved to the bathroom.
Right as he was in the middle of grooming his feathers, a knock came on his door. He jumped, hand tangled in the feathers tugging hard enough to tear a few loose. He winced.
Seokjin hadn’t been expecting anyone tonight.
He never expected anyone.
Maybe Jungkook had forgotten something when he had left work, a few hours before, and he had come back looking for it. That must have been it. Now that he thought about it, he had some ice cream in the freezer. It had expired two days ago and Seokjin had brought it up from the store. That night Seokjin hadn’t felt pitiful enough to eat ice cream and drink wine and not-cry alone. But if Jungkook was here…
He opened the door.
“Hey. You the one selling?” The other man made a gesture as if smoking a cigarette.
That was definitely not Jungkook. Seokjin wound his wings tight against his back, trying not to give too much weight to the disappointment pooling in his gut. Of course. Jungkook was probably out with his friends, laughing and having fun as people their age should do. Seokjin was probably the last thing on his mind.
He shook his head. “Wrong floor. It’s Ms Choi upstairs.”
The other man smacked his lips. “Dam, I see. She hot at least?”
Seokjin thought of Ms Choi’s cat print dresses, of her almost featherless wings, of the impressive, but friendly, net of wrinkles on her face, framed by white hair.
“Sure,” said Seokjin, heeding the pettiness for just a blissful moment. “Yeah, super hot.”
In the following week, Jungkook was wound up tighter than a rubber band. He was constantly practicing U-turns and airborne tricks and sprints in the aisles, wings knocking on shelves and giving customers heart attacks by zooming past and using them as dribbling cones.
“Jungkook-ah,” Seokjin called out reproachfully after a stunt that almost put an old lady into cardiac arrest. “What has got into you these days?”
“They say that Bangtan has come up from Daegu to train for the Supernova in Seoul.” When that doesn’t seem to catch Seokjin’s attention, he tries again.
“And- word has it they’re looking for one more team member!”
“Woah. That’s- that’s cool, Jungkook-ah.”
“I must find a way to participate in the tryouts, hyung. It’s been my dream since I was tiny like this,” he held a hand a few inches from the floor.
“Gosh, I still remember their first race. I was there you know? My brother brought me.” His chest puffed out, wings opening up. He twirled, sighing dreamily.
"They were so fast, hyung! Especially RM, his wings were so big that when he passed near me I almost got blown away!”
"That's cool Kook-ah. They’d be fools to let a good flier like you slip through their fingers. I can already see you with them, wings painted and everything. But try not to send our customers to the hospital in the process, ok?"
He moved to the next aisle, followed by the younger.
“Come help me stack these. There, you stay down and pass me the cans, but no juggling like last time!”
Then Seokjin spread his wings and was airborne.
A whistle sounded from below and he turned to find Jungkook staring at his wings, stars in his eyes. He flushed.
“Holy shit, hyung. I knew your wings were pretty and big, but this is- they are wonderful hyung.” Seokjin almost folded them back out of shyness, startled by the sheer adoration in the younger’s tone.
“Stop looking at them like that! You see them all the time!” he squawked. Jungkook shook his head as if to bring himself out of his stupor. He pinned Seokjin under his stare.
“Not like that hyung, never the full wingspan.”
Seokjin wanted to preen so badly, could feel his wings begging to flutter and ruffle to show Jungkook his appreciation, but he shoved it all down. He took the cans being offered to him.
“They’re pretty big, so it’s hard to find the space. They’re such a pain in the ass.”
He could hear Jungkook make a sound of disagreement, but no reply came from below.
They kept working in silence for a while.
Just as Seokjin was meticulously stacking the last of the beans, the bell on the door rang, signaling the presence of a new customer.
Heels clicked on the floor and made their way to them.
Was that can bent? Seokjin would have to take it home.
He faintly registered Jungkook turning to greet the customer, “Good morning, how can we-”
Beans for dinner. At least they were not expired this time.
He flew down, can in hand.
And was met face to face with lips that rival his own.
“Uhm,” he said, and froze. Jungkook was seemingly in his same predicament, judging by how he was simply standing, mouth wide open and staring at the newcomer. Seokjin wordlessly reached out to pat his mouth shut.
The stranger reached up to fix the sunglasses that were holding back his black hair, and Seokjin marveled internally at the sight of his tiny hands. He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush. What had gotten into him that day?
“Can we help you with-”
“That’s an impressive pair of wings,” The stranger’s gaze had turned calculating and dangerous, a predator appraising a rival. “You competing in the Supernova?”
“What- No, I, no- god,” he coughed. “No.” he said, calmer. I wish, he thought, heart in a storm.
“Uh.” The stranger chewed on his bottom lip for a second, lost in his thoughts, before his expression mellowed out. “Cool. Hi, my name is Park Jimin.”
Jungkook, who had been silent up until now, emitted a high-pitched sound.
“Ok…? I’m, Kim Seokjin,” he took the hand offered to him, and definitely did not focus on how his own hand made Jimin’s look even smaller. “Please let us know if you need anything.”
Jimin seemed amused by their reactions, but simply smiled, a pretty thing that bunched all his face up, and turned to head deeper into the store.
Seokjin gave himself a second to admire his white dotted wings, short and with rounded tips.
As soon as there was enough distance between them, Jungkook hung onto his arm as though his life depended on it. “Park Jimin!” he whisper-yelled in his ear. “That Park Jimin! Acrobatic flyer Park Jimin!”
Oh. His wings make a lot of sense right now. Their size and shape made swift maneuvers a lot more manageable, allowing their owner more agility in all kinds of airborne tricks.
“Seriously hyung, how do you not know him? He’s first in the country or something.”
Seokjin shrugged. He had only ever followed underground flying and had never been much into regular sports. Acrobatic flying was beautiful to look at, with its routines and spins, but it just didn’t give him that same adrenaline.
Underground flying, on the other hand…
Expert flyers utilizing the urban landscape to create complex and potentially life-threatening obstacle courses in which to compete for speed, for no other reason than the glory and the thrill of it?
That had been what kept Seokjin breathing when he was younger.
When Jimin was done and ready to pay they met him back at the register.
He had bought enough food to feed an army and Jungkook eagerly helped him sort everything into two bags.
As Seokjin beeped all his items he could feel Jimin’s stare heavy on his wings.
“Are you looking for a flock?”
Seokjin almost dropped the eggs he was holding. He feebly shook his head.
“But,” he cleared his throat. “But Jungkook here is. He’s really good, you should see his practice drills.”
Jungkook froze up, eyes flitting crazily between Seokjin and Jimin.
“Cool. We’ll keep it in mind.”
Seokjin didn’t know who that “we” was, but surely hoped it was someone who could help Jungkook achieve his dreams.
When Jimin left, the younger kept staring at the space the acrobatic flyer had occupied.
“Hyung,” he said, barely a mumble. “Hyung, word on the street’s that Jimin occasionally flies with Bangtan.”
Rush hour came every day with religious punctuality.
As soon as the store opened, a sudden spike after 11, and then again, half an hour before closing. Rinse and repeat for the afternoon. Although the stream of people visiting the Kim Convenience had lessened considerably over the years, the lunch hour rush was still enough to keep Seokjin chained to the register, leaving Jungkook to take care of the rest.
He blamed the fast-paced and mindless repetition of the rush hour for the way he jumped when, after he had raised his glance from the register ready to serve another customer, he was faced by none other than Park Jimin.
The other was smiling at him, and if possible, looked even more radiant than the other day.
Seokjin greeted him with a nod of his head, unsure on how to act, and got to work. Jimin had bought enough food to feed a small army again. If it was true that Jimin flew with Bangtan, then the food was probably for them. Which meant that they were already in town to train for the Supernova events. Which was a piece of information that didn’t affect Seokjin. Didn’t affect him at all.
He scraped through his brain for something to say, unable to stand Jimin’s eyes on him as he passed all his groceries in complete silence.
“If you need to buy this much stuff the supermarket is more convenient.”
Definitely not his best.
Jimin didn’t miss a beat in answering, “But there are no cashiers this handsome at the supermarket.”
Seokjin’s wings fluttered as though he was no better than a schoolboy with a crush and focused on the scanner in his hands, ears hot.
After a while, Jimin spoke again. “Is it me or is it breezier in here today? Did you turn on the AC?”
Seokjin took a moment with his answer, because they definitely didn’t have an AC in the store and now that Jimin pointed it out he did feel some sudden gushes of air-
“Jungkook!” he screamed towards the aisles. “I told you not to practice with this many people around! They are all old and frail, you might scare one of them to death like last time!”
He turned to Jimin to apologize but found the other chuckling, a hand covering his mouth.
There was fondness in his voice and that same calculating glint in his eyes as the last time. “Finding ways to practice even when at work? Reminds me of someone I know.”
Before Seokjin could gather up the courage to ask him to elaborate, he was gone.
From that moment forward, Jimin was everywhere.
That was actually a euphemism.
Jimin surely led a very busy life, in fact Seokjin and Jungkook went days without seeing him. More like, Jimin went days without grocery shopping. Which was a totally normal thing. It made no sense for the two of them to constantly jump at the sight of a white wing dotted with sandy spots, or for Jungkook to keep asking Seokjin when did he think Jimin would be back?
So no, it wasn’t the frequency with which Jimin visited, but the fact that every interaction with Jimin seared itself in Seokjin’s brain and suddenly it was all he could think about for days.
He imagined it must have been the same for Jungkook, considering how he almost flew himself into a shelf whenever white rounded wings caught his eye.
The younger one even showed him videos of Jimin’s routines (it’s not like Seokjin had asked or anything), and he was blown away.
In contrary to underground flying, which was sharp, fast, and most often than not surprisingly aggressive, Jimin’s acrobatic flying routines were infused with such grace that Seokjin was sure he must have been looking at an angel.
As time passed, and so did their little talks with Jimin, without a single mention of Bangtan, Seokjin started wondering whether the rumors were all they were said to be: rumors.
It would have made sense, thinking about it. If it had got to be known that one of the top athletes in the Wingfolk Airborne Sports Federation occasionally dabbled in underground flying, it would have caused a big scandal that could have cost Jimin pretty much everything.
This way was also better for Seokjin. Less distraction, less to think about.
Less of a chance for new dreams to bloom uselessly.
He was almost 30 anyway, the best he could hope for was a nice spot in the crowd of onlookers at a race.
(Even then, he didn’t think he could have endured it, to only be able to watch as others lived his dream.)
Besides, he had the shop. Between inventory ad keeping the finances and opening hours and shipments, he could barely keep up. No use adding another even more to his plate by what, taking up flying?
He would just keep an eye out on the news of the underground world, briefly, as he had done until now.
That’s what he was thinking as he did inventory, Jungkook following him around with a block notes in hand, where he was supposed to be writing down future orders, but he was most likely doodling on. Seokjin knew he would remember everything anyway.
They were checking the highest shelf, far enough from the ground and wings beating lazily to keep them in the air.
From up there, they could see the next aisle over and that’s when he spotted Jimin’s familiar sandy dotted feathers and another pair of wings that… that he did know.
Long tail feathers, colored so bright that anyone would assume they were dyed, but Seokjin knew better.
Those wings belonged to Kim Taehyung.
Kim Taehyung, who paved the way for tropical wing-types and other songbirds by becoming one of the most skilled fliers in the Korean scene, fighting against an environment that considered them too soft to belong in the adrenaline-packed, fast jammed underground world.
Kim Taehyung, fourth member of Bangtan.
Jimin must have noticed him hovering over the shelf, mouth only slightly open and absolutely not in shock at the sight of The Kim Taehyung, because he broke out into a grin and waved at him.
“Hi, Seokjin-ssi!”
Jungkook’s head popped up next to him.
“Good morning Jimin-ssi!”
“I bought a friend along today!”
In a flurry of iris-colored wings, Taehyung reached them on the tallest shelf, elbows on the wooden surface and chin in his hands.
Rumors of Taehyung’s beauty didn’t limit themselves to his wings, thanks to which he had gained the title of Rainbow Finch, and this close Seokjin could finally understand why his rivals often complained about him being too distracting.
Taehyung was captivating. His eyes were almonds, rich like chocolate with long, long, lashes, a spider web waiting to trap its prey when he gently closed them, head tilted forward in a demure impression before they opened again onto bottomless depths that burned and ensnared.
If Jimin was gorgeous in a soft, angelic way, Taehyung was handsome like a tiger waiting to pounce.
It was the corner of the shelf poking on his ribs that announced to him that he had been leaning forward, and he retreated, tips of his ears burning.
“Are these the infamous Kim Seokjin and Jeon Jungkook?”
Jungkook produced an exhale that sounded a lot like “The Rainbow Finch knows my name…” and Jimin chuckled.
“Taehyungie has been dying to meet you two.”
“Yeah, because you have been talking about them non-stop.”
Jimin turned his head to hide his blush. “There’s just a lot of potential here, that’s all.”
They didn’t stop to chat for much longer. They had groceries to buy, because after all Jimin and Taehyung were simply here for a service that Seokjin happened to provide. A completely normal and unremarkable business transaction.
Except that Seokjin kept turning Jimin’s words over in his head, the eight letters that make up potential echoing relentlessly in his brain, even when he tried in vain to banish them.
He silenced brutally the small voice that suggested, with hesitant hope, that he might have been part of that potential.
They were here for Jungkook. It was clear.
Now every time Jimin’s heels clacked on the tiles of the store, Taehyung’s softer, dragged-out steps accompanied him.
They hung around for much longer even if time with them always seemed so short to Seokjin.
Jungkook was constantly by their side now, quickly leaving behind his nervous deference to ask questions and discuss the best underground flocks.
(When Jungkook had brought up Bangtan’s name Jimin and Taehyung had played it off, but their smiles were still a smidge smug.)
Conversation topics changed over time, from pets to school to videogames, and then suddenly Jungkook was inviting them over to his apartment to play Overwatch when they were not training.
Seokjin watched them chatter away in a corner of the store. While discomfort ached in his chest at seeing something so beautiful bloom in front of him, knowing he couldn’t be part of it, his smile betrayed how glad he felt.
Jungkook was a nice kid- the best, and he deserved more than just his apartment, Seokjin, and the store.
On a slow, rainy day Jungkook showed all his drills to the two professional fliers, and the look of complete marvel on Taehyung’s face haunted Seokjin for the rest of the day.
Jungkook deserved more, and it looked like he was close to getting it.
Meanwhile, Seokjin stayed.
Instead of dragging along, the hands of the clock flew forward in a flutter of colorful feathers and carefree laughter, round and round until the time came to part ways.
Jungkook with an intricate wing-shake that would have given Seokjin back pain, the older with a tentative brush of feather tips, and while watching the two leave was just a bit bitter, with every parting their next meeting came sooner.
The four fell in a lull that kept up just the barest hint of pretenses, where Jimin and Taehyung would buy a bar of soap and then stick around for the whole afternoon, and Seokjin got to call them “their loyal costumers”.
The duo was quickly dragged into the rhythm of the store, absent-mindedly joining Seokjin and Jungkook’s reshelving efforts on cargo days while discussing iconic 90s pop songs, or taking up the mop when noticing a muddy footprint on rainy days, because Seokjin was busy at the register and Jungkook had been cornered by an old lady with a single niece.
It took Seokjin no time to learn that Taehyung was a chatterbox whenever around Jimin.
The two fed off each other’s energy, their enthusiasm reflecting on everyone around them.
The two of them together were loud, and with Jungkook they were plain explosive, attracting more than one stare when they would suddenly burst into laughter or chase each other through the aisles. Seokjin’s fingers itched as he watched, the brain sending signals to the body to move, to get them to quiet down because they were bothering customers and that was against the Rules. The heart stopped him, captured by their careless smiles, not wanting to be the one that made them dimmer.
Jungkook was always too attentive for Seokjin’s own good, though, and he was quick to reel the others in when he saw Seokjin stiff and undecisive.
When that happened Seokjin cursed himself, just a little.
It took Seokjin longer to learn how Taehyung could be quiet.
He came by on his own, a few times. The first time it was outside of Jungkook’s shift, and when Seokjin had told him that the younger wouldn’t be there, Taehyung had just answered: “It’s okay, I came for you.”
It was overwhelming, to be under the undivided attention of that kind of intensity.
They didn’t talk much. Taehyung usually took a sketchpad with him and spent the time seated in Seokjin’s chair, the one right next to him as he worked the register.
He did a few live drawings before stopping and asking Seokjin about his day and listening with focused eyes, as though every word that left Seokjin’s mouth was pure poetry.
Before he closed his pad though, Seokjin could spy the familiar faces of habitual customers staring back from the paper, and on a few occasions, his own eyes.
The moment everything had been leading to, came a few weeks later. They were playing some makeshift version of golf, and the only reason Seokjin had allowed them in the first place was because of desert aisles and a silent bell.
Seokjin himself was entertaining them, acting as a referee but doing little more than fomenting the chaos, accounting sheets left abandoned by the register.
Taehyung had come in with an ear-splitting grin that nothing had been able to wipe off his face, not even the older’s initial refusal to join them. That had been Seokjin’s first clue that something was up with the duo.
The second clue had been the way Jimin kept biting his lips as if to stop himself from blurting out something.
The third clue had been the complicit glances, the snickering, the elbowing each other with mirth in their eyes.
It was Jungkook’s turn, the younger taking aim with a broom in his hands.
He was leading the race so far, unsurprisingly sending the moldy lime they were using as a golf ball effortlessly through every different course.
Out of sympathy for other lesser-skilled golf players, Seokjin had been turning a blind eye (quite literally) as Jimin and Taehyung had shamelessly cheated their way through the game.
Jungkook’s wings fluttered a few times before tensing, eyebrows drawn and eyes on the obstacle course.
“We’re looking for another team member to participate in the Supernova relay race.”
Jimin’s words barely reached through to the younger, who only answered with a distant “hmm”, unaware of the mischievous glance exchanged between Taehyung and Jimin.
“We wanted to invite you to try out.”
The lime squeezed forward in a blur, feathers knocking on shelves as Jungkook turned fast like the wind.
Taehyung and Jimin were looking at him with twin Cheshire grins on their lips, expectant, and Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.
“This is not real, is it? This is just another cheating strategy to distract me, right?”
Another shared look between the two, and then Taehyung shook his head, bottom lip escaping from his teeth and grin widening.
Seokjin himself could see Jungkook’s whole life pass in front of his eyes.
Jungkook was irresponsive for the following hour and a half.
Jimin and Taehyung had said goodbye, leaving with Seokjin all the details on the wheres and the hows of the tryouts, and all Jungkook could muster was a haunting groan from the afterlife.
Seokjin had rubbed his back and made him tea with the kettle he kept in the back. Tea, of which one sip had been enough for the younger to come back to his senses with a “Yuck!” and a request for a “Hyung please bring me a monster insteaaaad” that the older had obviously denied. Jungkook was well aware of the new rule Seokjin had made because of him. Employees couldn’t consume more than one Monster while on shift.
Especially when it made them violently hyperactive.
They were quick to fall back in the familiarity of it all, and Seokjin let the events of that day fall in the background of his mind as the store got busier and they were called back to their workstations.
The rush died off quickly, and Seokjin let Jungkook off early. The younger had a lot to think about for sure.
Had that afternoon really happened? Had it been a dream, a hallucination?
Surely not for Jungkook: he was now a step closer to making that dream a reality, as he deserved.
It took Seokjin a few tries before he finally managed to insert the keys in the lock to close for the night. He blamed his shaky hands on the cold. The younger would probably insist on being able to keep up with both work and training, but Seokjin knew how draining flying training was. And Bangtan were no regular flock.
He huffed out a breath, hot hair panning the window for the briefest second.
He was happy for the younger, he knew he was. So why couldn’t he shake off the pain sticking like a needle through his chest?
The city landscape was ever-changing.
Buildings were brought up, then brought down and up again. People tried and failed, tried and succeeded. Where there used to be a restaurant someone opened a cinema, then a store, then a bar, then a restaurant again.
Some lasted longer than others. Others changed signs as quickly as the wind shifted.
Amidst all the chaos, the thousands of lives passing through every day, the Kim Convenience, a defiant challenge to the tides of time, stayed, unchanging.
So did Seokjin.
Defeated.
That night the door closed behind Seokjin with a different kind of finality.