Chapter Text
Well, this is just my luck, Jimin thought.
Seokjin was mid-step up the stairs of Jimin’s front porch, his face mild but perfectly content, when his eyes landed on the guy stepping out of the door. Seokjin’s face morphed into a poorly hidden scowl so fast, under any other circumstances Jimin would have been impressed by his friend’s expressiveness. As he entered a staring contest with the other omega, the guy behind him chuckled awkwardly.
“Omega Kim,” he greeted stiffly. “What a surprise”
“Likewise,” if there was any more venom in Jin’s voice, it would have dripped down his chin. “Blessed Season, Beta Gu.”
Gu Baekjae, not the most confident guy on a good day, hesitated.
“Blessed,” he agreed finally. “Seems like you have business to attend to.”
Jimin couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. Of all the days Seokjin chose to make the track all the way from the temple to Jimin’s house, this just had to be the one. He internally bemoaned not making the guy leave as soon as they were done last night, but this close to a heat Jimin was just a little too clingy, a little too lonely for his own good.
Now he was going to have to deal with Jin’s motherly instincts.
“Seems like I do,” he turned to the beta, schooling his face in as neutral of an expression as he could master. “See you around?”
“Sure,” Baekjae nodded in a way that said they wouldn’t. He sent an unsure glance Seokjin’s way, and then they watched him walk off, his steps light and bouncy.
After a moment, Jin stepped over the last two stairs up onto the porch and leaned against the railing. The wooden planks whined precariously.
“Well?” Jimin said, an eyebrow raised. If he was going to get a lecture, he’d like to get it over with as soon as possible, or Jin would stew in his frustration and the whole day would be ruined.
The older omega looked at him, eyebrow creased, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It wasn’t a common look on him, one of deep concentration and mental effort. He usually only ever looked like this while translating a particularly difficult section of old scripture.
The silence stretched. Jimin shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
“So… did something happen?” Whatever weird stupor Jin had entered, the question seemed to break it.
“Kind of. Hweein said there would be an announcement today.”
“About?”
“The Revelation.”
Jimin’s eyes went wide.
“Yeah, I know. We will need to hit the market if she’s correct. There are only about two dozen candles left.”
Jimin nodded, already opening the front door. The candles would be the least of their problems; the silks they would need for the ceremony were a much bigger concern. He crossed the small room toward a large chest of drawers, one of its legs broken and replaced by a pile of flat river rocks, tilting a little unsteadily to one side. Carefully, as to not upset the balance, Jimin pulled out the biggest drawer, small pelts and dyed cotton garments filling it about half-way. A medium sized wooden jewelry box sat on one side. He pulled it out and began to ruffle through the array of brass jewelry stored inside. The gifts he occasionally received from his many paramours weren’t anything truly luxurious, nothing an omega would receive if they were being courted, but Jimin wasn’t in the business of complaining.
Now inside a closed space, Jin’s scent, thick with displeasure, quickly filled the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin watched his friend walk up to his unmade bed that stood in the corner by the window, the remnants of Jimin’s nest strewn across the surface. The smell of an overwatered jasmine plant curled in Jimin’s nostrils.
“Hyung,” he called out with way less sass than initially intended. Something wasn’t right. Jin smelled sad, not frustrated or angry. “Spit it out.”
Jin stood still for a moment, staring into the space in front of him, that twisted expression etched uncomfortably onto his beautiful face.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice uncharacteristically broken. “I’m sorry you have to do this just so we can trade.”
Jimin stared at him incredulously.
“What are you… Hyung, that is not why I sleep with people.” He crossed the room and grabbed his friend’s hands. Jin’s eyes shimmered wit something that looked like guilt. “Where is this coming from?”
Jin smiled, though it looked forced.
“It’s just… I was going to scold you a little, but then I thought about how right after I’d ask you to go through your stash so we can go to the market and get supplies, and now I’m sick to my stomach.”
Jimin shook his head in exasperation.
“You know nobody pays me to have sex with them right? It’s just gifts. Literally everyone in the compound gets gifts from their fuck buddies every once in a while. Alphas can’t help it.”
“I know,” Jin rubbed at his eyes. “Not everyone has to use those gifts for trading though.”
“Well, most of them also don’t have the weight of an entire religion on their shoulders, hyung,” Jimin smiled. “Come on, don’t make me feel bad about something I didn’t even think about in that way until you said it. I just like sex. I get to have fun, and the temple gets to have the things we need. It all works out.”
Jin didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. Jimin tugged him back to the chest and shoved the jewelry box into his hands.
“Come on, help me go through this. We will need something better than a few pairs of earrings to convince Minsung to trade us for those silks and you know her taste better than I do.”
Half an hour later found them walking down the dirt road that connected Jimin’s neighbourhood to the main town, satchels stuffed with pelts and shirts and jewelry thrown over their shoulders. Jin still smelled upset, so Jimin chose to keep quiet to let his friend work out whatever it was that prompted that whole conversation.
For a while, the only sounds accompanying them was an occasional bird chirping overhead and the wind rustling in the trees and bushes that grew untamed all along the road. Very few people still lived in this part of town, most choosing to move closer to the centre, and whoever did occupy the old dens, were all too used to the sight of Jimin to pay them any mind. Most of the structures that once made up the neighbourhood were long abandoned, roofs and walls collapsed, windows broken and pitch black. Jimin was used to it, too young to remember it any differently, but Jin wasn’t. He rarely ever came this way, preferring to meet Jimin at the temple every morning, not wanting to see the dens that were once full of life and sound, now dilapidated and decaying.
Closer to the town, the scenery changed. The houses stood up straighter, the number of crooked roofs thinned out, the trees appeared more pruned and looked after, some of them still heavy with late fruit. The people changed, too — a group of tiny pups rushed past them at one point, engrossed in their game of tug. A pregnant omega, cheeks glowy with blush, stood in a garden, his eyes trained carefully on Jimin as they passed by. A little golden plate in the shape of a sun with wavy rays crowned the roof of his house. The omega muttered something to himself, too far away for the words to be audible, but still Jimin felt it like a physical brush against his cheek. He shuddered. Jin’s warm hand found his, though he didn’t say anything, just squeezed his fingers for a moment. Jimin squeezed his back.
Once the dirt road turned a stone-paved boulevard, they were in the town. They didn’t stay on the main streets for long, ducking into an alleyway quickly, briskly walking though a maze of back streets. The sun neared its highest point by the time they made it onto the square.
The market was a fluid and inconstant thing: sometimes it sprawled across the entire square in every direction, even spilling out onto the adjacent streets; sometimes it was nothing more that a handful of booths clustered in one corner. Today they caught it in the in-between state — four somewhat neat rows of stalls lined the left width of the square, while a large stage towered over the right one.
“Wow,” Jimin breathed out, awed despite himself. “The Council went all out this year, didn’t they?”
Seokjin shrugged.
“Good trading year, apparently,” he said. They walked along the side of the square closer to the stage while still covered by the shade of the mess hall. “Plus, if Hweein is right, this equinox is going to be much more than just a drunken brawl and a bonfire.”
They leaned against the wall, just a few short meters away from the edge of the stage. They settled for a few moments, and then Jin circled his arms around Jimin’s shoulders carefully, as if afraid of being pushed away; Jimin nuzzled into him readily, always eager to scent. Jin buried his nose in Jimin’s hair.
“I’m sorry about what I said in the morning, Jiminie,” he said mournfully. The scent of jasmine, much fresher than it has been the entire day, settled around them in a soft cloud. “I’ve just… haven’t been feeling the best about the world recently, I guess.”
Jimin hummed.
“Did something happen?”
Jin sighed but didn’t answer. They cuddled together for a while, watching as more and more people trickled into the square as the minutes passed by. A crowd formed in front of the stage.
“The Council must’ve sent messengers across the neighbourhoods,” Seokjin said quietly. Jimin hummed. A middle-aged alpha caught the sight of them huddled up together and turned away so quickly he almost fell, disdain on his face barely hiding his fear. It almost made Jimin smile. No one sent a messenger for them to come here today, and yet here they were, envoys of a goddess few still worshipped.
Another half-hour passed before a group of six made it onto the stage. At the head of the procession, leaning heavily onto her cane and held up on each side by two young men, was Elder Hwan, the features of her face nearly lost to the wrinkles. A few steps behind her a man and a woman stood, so similar to each other, there could be no doubt they were siblings. Jimin knew, more that saw, the gold medallions in the shape of a sun laid carefully on both their chests. Another figure, swallowed entirely by a white robe stopped at the very back of the stage.
Once Elder Hwan was carefully balanced by her two aids in front of the crowd, the figure made a pass with their hand. The crowd fell silent. Even the merchants and their customers ceased their transactions and turned to listen.
When Elder Hwan spoke, her voice carried across the square.
“Pack Alpha Min’s condition has deteriorated drastically over the past few days,” she said, never one to mince words. “Though he is rarely conscious anymore, he awoke early this morning to tell that the Founding Alpha had come to him in his sleep and showed him his soon departure. The high priest then performed divination and confirmed Pack Alpha’s vision.”
She swayed gently to the side, the helper’s hand catching the woman’s elbow to steady her. She continued after a moment.
“It was Pack Alpha’s express wish to announce his successor during the equinox celebration next week. The Council, in light of the vision and Pack Alpha’s condition, is inclined to agree.”
The crowd, almost deathly still up to this point, murmured. Elder Hwan continued, unperturbed.
“The Revelation will happen at noon on the second day of the celebration, with all the proper ceremonies set to proceed in order afterward.”
She tilted her head, just slightly, and though she hardly could have known where they were, Jimin was sure in that moment she was looking right at him.
“A tax of one tribute gift per able adult is imposed on the entire pack at the time of the Revelation.”
She sighed heavily, the sound swiping across the square like a caress.
“That will be all.”
As the procession walked down from the stage, the square erupted in noise. Someone cheered.
For a moment, the two omegas stood still, basking in the gravity of everything that had just been said.
“Well,” Jin murmured finally, pulling away from the wall. “We have to go get those silks.”
—
In the inner yard of the pack alpha’s den, pups were on break from their lessons. Their voices, high and clear, rang through the open walkways, full of the kind of happiness that could only be experienced in childhood. Sitting by the window in Pack Alpha Min’s room, Yoongi listened to them count to ten in a game of hide-and-seek, though his eyes never strayed away from the figure laid motionless on the large bed in front of him.
Not for the first time, he tried to remember what his grandfather used to look like. The image escaped him, lately — he only knew that despite never being the tallest person in a room, Min Jungmyun was always the one everybody looked at. He was a prolific orator, something Yoongi didn’t exactly inherit, always able to inject his voice and his speech with such overflowing confidence, it was hard not to agree with him.
But the details of his appearance had been wiped clean by the way this sickness, whatever it was, obliterated him.
The shape on the bed could hardly be recognized as a man at all. A shallow husk of greyed skin, wrinkled in some places, taut in others. His cheekbones protruded dramatically; his lips were nearly gone. His breathing, quiet, yet laboured, was the only sound in the room; his eyes were shut tightly.
Maybe he’s already dead, the alpha thought, and I am just hallucinating his breathing.
The door to the den opened and Elder Kwon Sungha came in, a person hidden from sight entirely by grey robes trailing after her. Yoongi stirred.
“I am sorry it took me so long to get here, dear,” Sungha’s voice was soft, as were her shining eyes. She made her way across the room to where Yoongi sat and crouched beside him, grabbing his lax hand with both of hers. “Elder Hwan had lots to say after the announcement.”
He shook his head, exasperated and understanding. She looked toward the bed. Yoongi’s voice was gravely from disuse when he spoke.
“Chilling, isn’t it? To see him like this.” He brushed the tips of his fingers across his lips and rested his chin in his palm. “Feels like he will fade away if I stop looking at him.”
Her smile was pained.
“He won’t,” she said with conviction Yoongi hadn’t been able to find in himself for a long time now. “He still has time.”
They watched the figure for a moment. Finally, she stood up with a heavy sigh.
“I know this is the last thing you want to discuss right about now,” she perched herself on the neighbouring armchair. “But we have no choice anymore.”
She paused.
Yoongi closed his eyes. He knew what she was about to say, and though he appreciated both her delicacy and the urgency of the matter, the timing felt like a sick joke. He motioned for her to continue.
“The Revelation has been set for the second day. There will be an open challenge, though I can’t imagine anyone will put their candidacy forward; then the confirmation ceremony, and,” she huffed somewhat petulantly, “the initiation at the old temple.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“We are actually doing that?”
Sungha pursed her lips.
“Believe me, dear, I would never step foot in that place on my own accord, and if it were up to me, neither would you. But,” she nodded toward the motionless figure on the bed, “seeing through that part of the process might just be what keeps him here still.” Her smile was fond.
Yoongi hummed. “I guess I thought that since this is the condition he’s in, the initiation would be nicked.”
She gasped in mock offence.
“We respect Pack Alpha’s wishes regardless of what state he’s in,” Sungha tutted, but her eyes were soft. She held the expression for a few moments, though that trick didn’t work on Yoongi anymore, and then sighed. “I know what you mean. But if I am honest, most on the Council are actually quite inclined to uphold the tradition, however strained their personal feelings on the matter are. After all, your grandfather didn’t have an initiation and look how that turned out.” She motioned toward the bed.
“You think the Moon has something to do with this?”
Her mouth twisted in disgust.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” she said. Yoongi stared at her in disbelief.
“Come on, noona-” he began but she didn’t let him finish.
“It doesn’t matter, Yoongi, not at this point anyway. If it was in fact the priestesses’ doing, Father will deal with it.” She ran a frustrated hand over her face. “What is important,” she took his hand, “is that your ascension goes smoothly. We all want that, and me more than most.”
She smiled at him, warm, motherly. He suddenly longed for her embrace, something he hadn’t allowed himself in a long time, but now, on the precipice of something he at one point didn’t even think would happen, he wished more than anything that this woman, the closest thing to a mother he’d ever have, would hug him.
Something in his face must have given his wish away because she moved toward him with a quiet, “oh, honey.”
A rustle sounded through the room.
They both snapped their heads toward the bed.
A sharp intake of air and then a cough.
“Water…”
Yoongi and Sungha both moved at the same time, but the grey shadow was at the bedside before either of them could so much as locate the pitcher and a glass.
The priest helped Jungmyun up, propping the pack alpha against the pillows, and tipped the glass to his lips. Yoongi stood, halfway between the armchair and the bed, shocked into stillness by his grandfather’s state now that the daylight streaming through the window illuminated him better.
Jungmyun finished drinking, exhaling heavily, the simple action likely draining what little energy he had. “Thank you,” he rasped, pushing the priest’s hand away lightly.
“Pack Alpha Min,” Sungha said softly, “how are you feeling?”
Jungmyun chuckled, his whole body jumping slightly.
“Give your healer my thanks, Sungha. Whatever dope he mixed up in that little vial of his, I can’t feel a thing anymore.”
Sungha nodded, though her smile was pained.
“I will, Pack Alpha.”
“Have you done what I asked for?”
“Yes, the Revelation has been announced just after noon today. Your successor-”
The alpha stopped her with a single motion of a hand.
“I don’t need to know all the details now; I trust you and your brother to take care of it.” He coughed again, nearly toppling over from the force of it. “I would like to have a moment with my grandson while I can. Leave us, would you?”
Sungha glanced at Yoongi. “Of course, Pack Alpha.”
She made it all the way to the door, before Jungmyun spoke again.
“Leave us,” his voice boomed across the room with a force Yoongi didn’t think he had anymore. “Both of you.”
Yoongi only saw a dash of grey across the room, before they were alone. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful of his grandfather’s legs.
“Those pesky priests,” Jungmyun’s laugh was weak. “Sometimes I wonder if they forgot they aren’t actually shadows.”
Yoongi smiled, but his throat was tight. His grandfather hasn’t been this lucid in weeks, if not months, his speech usually nothing more than a slurred jumble of sounds. Jungmyun looked at him, his bright eyes too big for his emaciated face. He smiled sadly.
“I know this isn’t how we planned it, my boy,” he said. “But this is how the gods willed it and that, perhaps, is a blessing none of us can see yet.”
Yoongi cleared his throat.
“Sungha said some think that this is the Moon’s doing,” he said, barely above whisper. “Your sickness, I mean.”
Jungmyun hummed thoughtfully.
“I doubt it. Mother has always been kind to me. Perhaps, too kind,” he took Yoongi’s hand, the skin of his palm dry and hot. “Time will tell, Yoongi, and when that time comes, it will be up to you to make the final judgement.”
He began coughing again, this fit so long that by the time it ended, Yoongi had almost forgotten what they were talking about in the first place. He adjusted the pillows and the furs around his grandfather, the man’s eyes closed in exhaustion.
“I want you to do something for me.” He said after a while.
“Anything, harabeonim.”
“Go to the celebrations next week. Enjoy yourself, for once. Who knows how long before you will have an opportunity to be young again.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened but Jungmyun raised a weak hand before he could protest.
“I know it seems callous to you, to have fun while I am in this state,” he smiled. “But time is fleeting, my boy. Fate doesn’t wait for anyone, it moves along its own song, and all too often we are deaf to it. Trust me, I will still be here when you come back. Think of this as my final wish.”
And who is Yoongi to refuse this man anything?
—
The sun was low in the sky by the time they made it to the temple. Jimin felt the beginnings of a headache just behind his eyes, the long hour they spent haggling with the merchants at the market left him completely worn out. Taehyung, bent over at the waist and knee-deep in upturned garden soil, stood straight once he caught sight of them, face shaded by the large rim of a straw hat, an expectant smile stretching his lips.
“How did it go?” He called out, tugging his gloves off and walking over to them.
“Hweein was right,” Jimin said. He stretched his arms toward the omega, already so tired just from the thought of all the work they had ahead of them. “The Revelation is set for the second day. I don’t know if we will be able to go to the bonfire at all.”
Tae hopped over the low fence separating the walkway from the garden and threw his arms around Jimin. His scent, sour-sweet cherry, sun and dried up soil, made Jimin want to curl in a nest and never leave.
“You will,” Seokjin said sternly. “We will all go and have fun, no matter what.”
“Yeah,” Tae nodded, his nose buried in Jimin’s hair. “It’s all for show anyway. No one will care if the temple isn’t sparkling during the ceremony.” He pulled away with a grin.
“Well, some might care,” Seokjin walked toward the entrance. “But it’s not like we can erase twenty years of abandonment with just a deep clean.”
With that rueful comment, he disappeared inside. Tae furrowed his brows.
“What’s with him?”
Jimin sighed.
“He saw a guy leave my place this morning,” he said. “It was weird. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Taehyung hummed.
“I think he saw Namjoon the other day at the Council.” Jimin sucked in a breath. “Exactly. He didn’t say much when he returned but I saw him praying three nights in a row now.”
“That will do it,” Jimin murmured.
“Talk to him, maybe? If they did see each other, I’m sure whatever weird thing he said to you this morning was really about that.”
Walking into the Moon Temple, a rare worshipper would inevitably find themselves under the unwavering gaze of a marble statue, posed at if mid-step in the very middle of the chamber, towering high above everything else.
Cut out of a whole slab of pure marble, her figure was covered entirely by folds of flowing fabric, her shape suggested, but not visible, except for her feet and the right eye, the left one halfway covered. Jimin entered the temple on most days, and every time he did, for a fleeting moment he found himself unable to move, pinned to the spot, trying to decipher what feeling his deity held in her eyes that day. Sometimes she looked at him joyfully, at times she was judgemental. Today, he thought, she seemed worried. Jimin stared at the exposed part of her face, the crease in her eyebrow, the downturn in the outer corner of her eye. Was she nervous, he wondered, to have all those people here again, after so long?
“Jiminie,” Seokjin’s loud voice bounced against the stone walls. Jimin startled, ripping his eyes away from the statue. “Come help halmeonim with the fabrics.”
He made his way to the back, into a sectioned-off part of the chamber where they usually dealt with ceremonial preparations. Hweein sat on the floor, skirts pooled around her haphazardly, long bony fingers fluttering neurotically over a chest full of different fabrics. Jimin laid the bundle of new silks from the market gently next to her as he sat down.
“How are you feeling, halmeonim?”
It was as if he hadn’t spoken at all. Hweein didn’t look up, her hands, though shaky and unsteady, didn’t twitch at the sound of his voice. She was muttering under her breath, so quietly it hardly sounded like speech at all. She pulled out a bundle of velvet, deep navy, tiny stars embroidered on it, and set it to the side. Jimin picked it up, unraveling it to inspect for damage done by mole or time.
They worked like this for a while, silent except for her muttering. Seokjin usually talked at her, without expecting anything in return, but Jimin couldn’t. Her lack of response stung him, though he knew it was hardly her fault.
He was looking over yet another piece of fabric when a bony hand suddenly gripped his wrist. He looked up at his mentor, eyes wide, his breath caught in his mouth. Hweein’s lips moved without sound.
“Halmeonim?” He said, louder than intended. Somewhere in the middle distance, Seokjin’s quick steps grew closer. Her nails dug painfully into his skin, her eyes glazed over, staring into a world he wasn’t privy to.
When she finally spoke, her words came out in a hissing breath.
“You’ll do it,” she said. “You’ll initiate the new alpha.”
“What?” Jimin looked to Jin incredulously, but the older omega seemed to be as startled as he was. “Halmeonim, I can’t do the initiation, I don’t know-”
She shook her head resolutely.
“You’ll do it,” she repeated. “You have to do it.”
—
In the end, it was kind of anticlimactic how easily Sungha agreed to let him go to the bonfire.
Yoongi had thought that with the date of the Revelation set, the Council would essentially put him on house arrest. But the lack of any sort of concern on Sungha’s part when she heard about his grandfather’s request surprised him.
“Take Namjoon with you,” she said, her eyes glued to a scroll. “It will be good for him to remember there is a world outside the library.”
He almost made it out of her study when she spoke again.
“Don’t forget, the Jungs are expecting you for a check-up the day after tomorrow.” She glanced up from her scroll and smiled. “Can’t have anything go wrong now, can we?”
He found Namjoon where he usually did — curled on a windowsill with a book in his lap. His scent, orange and clove, curled in the air with heavy bitterness.
“Hey,” he said, sliding across from his friend. “What’s the topic today?”
Namjoon barely spared him a glance.
“Just an anthology of fairy tales from up north.”
Yoongi hummed. Namjoon turned a page.
“How’s harabeonim doing?”
“Awake, surprisingly,” Yoongi tilted his head against the window and closed his eyes. The sun was nearing the horizon now, and the inner yard was silent. He wished the pups were still out — anything to fill the heavy silence that covered the den seemingly all the time now. “Wants me to go to the bonfire. I asked Sungha, she said we could go.”
The pages rustled. “We?”
“Said you need to get out of this place sometime.”
Namjoon hummed. Turned another page.
Yoongi waited. Patience was something they both excelled at.
“I saw him,” Namjoon said finally.
“Yes, at the Council last week. You told me.”
Namjoon closed the book with a resounding thump.
“No, today,” his eyes, though dry, were red. “I went to the square around the announcement time. Hid by the stage. Don’t think he saw me.”
Yoongi exhaled heavily. He wondered what he could say that he hadn’t said already a million times before, something that would get through the heartbroken haze in Namjoon’s head.
In the end, there was only one thing.
“Why?”
Namjoon’s eyes slipped closed. He rolled his head to the side, temple resting against the window.
“I keep seeing him in my dreams. I mean, I have been ever since he left, but lately, it’s gotten…” he paused, his face twisting in a strange way, one that made Yoongi’s stomach clench.
“What are the dreams, Joon?”
“They’re violent. I watch him die over and over again, in a million different ways, and I can never do anything to stop it. Sometimes,” he inhaled heavily, “sometimes he looks at me, as I am screaming for him, and then he walks away. Walks toward the thing that I know will kill him.”
Yoongi nodded. “So, you seek him out to make sure he’s alive.”
“I seek him out to make sure he’s alive.” Joon repeated, his voice almost a whisper.
They fell silent for a moment.
“And how does Kim Seokjin look?” Yoongi asked. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t somewhat curious.
Namjoon shrugged.
“Alright, I guess. Sad, maybe?” He hummed in thought. “Does it make me horrible if a part of me was happy that he looked so sad?”
“No, Joon, he dumped you in the most awful way possible. I’d be concerned if you didn’t want him to suffer just a little.”
A tear slipped out the corner of Namjoon’s eye, even as he smiled.
“He was with another omega,” he said, staring beyond the window into the inner yard. “The tiny one, priestess’s grandson. Something must’ve happened, because they both looked… weird, I don’t know. Nuzzling each other, scenting.” He hiccuped lightly and wiped the tears off his cheeks. “My alpha nearly made me go over there and scent the hell out of him, so I left. The announcement hadn’t even started yet.”
Yoongi stared at his friend, who got through sword training without tears ever since they were children despite not being the best warrior and hated Kim Seokjin’s very existence.
“Stop, Yoongs,” Namjoon said, a tired smile stretching his lips, though his cheeks stayed sadly dimple-free. “He had his reasons.”
Yoongi huffed.
“You keep saying that, but won’t tell me what those reasons were,” he folded his arms across his chest, knowing full well he was probably pouting and looked ridiculous, but not able to stop himself anyway. “As far as I’m concerned, he got cold feet because of all the responsibility he would have to take on if you ended up as harabeonim’s successor.”
Namjoon shook his head ruefully.
“No, that wasn’t going to happen by that point. We both knew it. I don’t like keeping it from you, hyung, you know I don’t, but…” He frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe I just haven’t even come to terms with it myself yet.”
Yoongi sighed. “Well, the good news is, I’m not going anywhere. So, its okay, Joonie. You don’t have to tell me now.”
Namjoon smiled at him again. “Thanks, hyung.”
—
Nightfall found all three priestesses bent at the waist, scrubbing the floor in the main chamber.
“This is awful,” Seokjin grumbled for what felt like the hundredth time. “My hands will never recover.”
To Jimin’s right, Taehyung snickered. This was somewhat of a ritual, Seokjin whining about the endangerment of his beauty every time they did any sort of manual labour.
“You chose this life, hyung,” Jimin quipped, like they always did, and then caught Tae’s wide eyes. Seokjin laughed, but it was forced.
“Yeah, that I did.”
Jimin bit his lip. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Jin properly ever since they came back from the market. The preparations for the ceremony would take up all their walking hours for the next few days, and they still had to make sure there was enough time for Jimin to go over the ritual itself and learn the prayers, now that Hweein had put him in charge.
“There is no talking her out of this,” Seokjin said when Jimin tried to protest this last-minute promotion. “It’s not that hard, I will go over the order with you a few times. The prayer is long, but you have good memory. You’ll be fine.”
Still, the state of the temple was nowhere near acceptable for the initiation. Certain things they had no way of remedying — like the chunk of the roof that collapsed a few months ago. Some of the rubble was still piled up toward the back of the chamber, and though they have tried to clean it up as best they could, the largest pieces were just to heavy for them to move.
But the floors, the floors had to be cleaned. Hweein stood in the middle of the chamber for about five minutes, stomping her foot and pointing down, howling something incomprehensible, until Taehyung slammed a bucket of water right next to her and began mopping the floor. She looked at him blankly for a minute and then wobbled back to the preparation room.
“I love her but she’s going to drive me nuts soon,” Tae said. Jimin could only sigh.
Hours later, and they only had about a quarter of the chamber done. Outside, the night had coalesced into an inky mass, and Jimin knew he wouldn’t make it home tonight. Jin hardly would have let him get farther than the door.
Finally, Taehyung straightened with a pained groan.
“Okay, we’re done for today,” he announced loudly, slamming the mop into the bucket with vengeance, somehow managing not to splatter the dirty water all over the floors. “I will go get grandma into bed. Jiminie, dump mine out for me, please?”
“Okay,” Jimin said, straightening out as well. Jin seemed lost in thought, mindlessly continuing to mop as Jimin took his and Tae’s buckets outside and dumped them out. He drew a whole bucket of fresh water, washed the rags, and put them on the line to dry, and when he came back, Jin was still staring into the middle space, his chin propped against the long handle of the mop.
“You want help with that, hyung?” He startled at the sound of Jimin’s voice, blinking rapidly a few times.
“No, I… I’ll finish it up here. Go wash up, Jiminie.”
“Okay.”
He washed his face and brushed his teeth quickly in the little bathroom just off the hallway that led to the living quarters. It had been a while since all three of them spent the night at the temple, but the few rooms that withstood the brunt of time and weather were always ready for him. Jimin hesitated on the threshold of the bathroom, his mind running in circles around what Taehyung said earlier and Jin’s lacklustre reaction to the joke they have been making for months now. He could let it go. There was no guarantee Seokjin would even want talk about what happened when he went to give his monthly report on the temple’s affairs to the Council last week. He was always a little off for a few days after, this wasn’t that out of the norm.
Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose.
Except it was, of course, way out of the norm.
With a defeated sigh he walked back to the chamber.
Seokjin sat on his knees in front of Mother’s statue, three small candles illuminating his face, his eyes closed, his mouth moving soundlessly. They didn’t really do nightly services anymore, not since Pack Alpha fell ill. For a long time, the man came to the temple randomly, always in the dead of night, always wrapped tightly in a dark cloak. He never pulled his hood off, he never even spoke, just sat silently on the floor as Hweein chanted prayers and then leave.
But he hadn’t come back in months now, and next week, Jimin realized suddenly, would probably be his last time in this room. He watched as Seokjin bowed deeply forward, his forehead resting on the low base of the statue, just centimetres away from the tips of her toes. The wind howled through the hole in the roof and Jimin shuddered.
“Why do you only pray like this after you’ve seen him, hyung?”
For a long moment, he wondered if Seokjin would answer at all.
“Because that’s when I doubt my faith the most.” He turned around, sliding to the side gracefully. “Doubt my choice to leave him so that I could be here, with you. With her.”
Jimin nodded, his eyes sliding up to Mother’s obscured face. Seokjin may have not grown up in the temple they way he and Tae had, but in some ways, he had better theology than either of them. This religion was like breathing to them; they knew no other way than this. To him, it was a thing he truly learnt, studied from books and scripts they never had access to. What he lacked in practice, he compensated with academic knowledge. There is no right way, Hweein said once, a long time ago, when the tall, awkward omega a little older than her two grandsons first snuck into the temple. It is simply a way.
“Do you think you would be happier if you stayed?”
“No,” the answer came with no hesitation. “Though it has nothing to do with him, and everything with the circumstances. But no, I wouldn’t have been happy. It just…” He sighed. “It still hurts, Jiminie.”
“Hmm. It hasn’t been that long, not really.”
“No, it hasn’t.” Jin pulled his knees to his chest, and suddenly he looked so small and so sad. “And I don’t really want the hurt to go away. I don’t even really know what I want. I just know that whenever I see him, for a brief moment I forger why I left in the first place.”
“So, you pray for her to remind you.”
“Exactly.”
Jimin hummed. They basked under her gentle gaze in silence for what felt like an eternity and a moment.
“Go to bed, Jiminie,” Seokjin said, pulling himself back to his knees.
“Will you tell me someday?” Jimin asked over his shoulder once he stood at the door to the living quarters. “The real reason why you left. I’ve never met him, but I doubt he had any qualms about you worshipping Mother.”
The pain in Seokjin’s eyes seemed to weigh a ton.
“Someday,” he nodded. “Someday I’ll tell you everything, Jiminie.”