“Have you seen my repellent potion?” Seokjin asked.

“Your what?” Namjoon asked, t-shirts on hand. He was choosing which one he should put in his backpack.

“You know, that little green flask, my repellent potion! I made it myself. You put it on your skin and speak out the creature you want to repel.”

“Oh,” Namjoon exclaimed, “that sounds useful.”

“Well, yeah, I don’t make useless things, Namjoon!”

“Then what is that blue bottle you just put in your backpack?” the younger asked in an accusatory tone.

“... My face lotion.”

“You don’t need that!” he groaned.

“What do you know about my needs?” the older retorted, offended.

It was only a second, but Seokjin could swear he’d seen Namjoon going red. However, the other had turned around, putting more stuff into his backpack. “Well, I don’t know much about rescue missions, but I’m pretty damn sure taking care of your facial skin is not a primordial thing!”

Seokjin pouted. “You just want to sabotage my beauty,” he commented as he kept looking for potions on his shelf. He then heard Namjoon chuckling softly.

“No one can do that,” he muttered.

Now it was Seokjin’s turn to blush. He widened his eyes and turned around, looking at his roommate’s back. He opened his mouth, intent on saying something. But the slam of their bedroom door interrupted his train of thought.

“Jesus Christ!” Seokjin screeched, grabbing his chest because of the jump scare. “Hoseok!”

There, in their doorframe, was their black haired friend, grabbing the doorknob with maybe too much force (his hand was trembling) and wheezing.

“Hey, dude, dude,” Namjoon said when he saw his friend. He got up from the floor and approached him, gently putting an arm around his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok gasped, “I had to get out of my room, too many colors.”

“Oh,” Seokjin simply said.

That happened sometimes with him. People’s auras, according to Hoseok, were pretty clear and straightforward most of the time—he only saw one or two colours. But when people were troubled, he said they showed too many emotions because of their confusion. And he could handle one person being troubled, but more? And in a closed room? Too many colors. Too overwhelming.

That could only mean that Jungkook and Taehyung were still not talking to each other and both of them were in their room right now, packing together to go out. Probably Hoseok had been packing too, but being between those two must’ve been a nightmare. Honestly, Seokjin thought, he didn’t need to have Hoseok’s powers to want to get out of that room if he was in there. Being with them must feel pretty awkward and uncomfortable. He’d bet anything that he could cut the tension with a knife.

It was then that Seokjin got out of his thoughts to notice that Hoseok was staring at him. “I interrupted something, didn’t I.”

“What?” Namjoon asked, confused.

Hoseok was probably able to see the remains of the colors of what Seokjin was feeling before he bursted into the room. The little .

“Of course not,” the older retorted. “Did you finish packing?”

“Um, I couldn’t—”

“Then be useful for once and help us pack.”

“Woah, okay, no need to be so harsh, Jin,” Namjoon tried to placate.

Seokjin huffed. “... Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Hoseok sighed. “Everyone seems to be on edge with this trip. I saw Minri before and she practically started yelling at me.”

“Minri? Why?”

“I don’t know, apparently Mrs. Choi doesn’t want her to go with us? She was pretty mad about it. But still, what does she want me to do? If she wants to complain she should talk to her, not me.”

“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense,” Namjoon said as he put one of his pocket books about wildlife in his backpack. It may be useful if they had to go through the woods. “Minri is the one who knows Taela best. Why would she stay here?”

“I don’t know, ask the headmistress.”

“Um, no thanks.”

“Honestly,” Seokjin added, “I always thought the headmistress had a good reason for everything she does, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Yeah, something’s fishy,” Namjoon mumbled.

“Maybe Jungkook knows something,” the brunette said as he looked intently at Hoseok.

“Oooooh, no,” Hoseok shook his head. “No. I’m not gonna talk to him!”

“Come on, you’re his roommate!”

“He hates me!”

“Hate is a strong word,” Namjoon pointed out.

“Okay, maybe he doesn’t hate me. But he definitely doesn’t trust me. Besides, I’m not going back there. I felt like I was going blind.”

“Dude, I think now you’re just exaggerating,” Seokjin said as he folded some clothes.

Hoseok squinted at him. “The day you feel like you’re drowning in colors, you can talk to me.”

The older was about to retort something when Namjoon spoke up. “Hoseok’s right. First we need Jungkook and Taehyung to make up with each other before asking Jungkook anything about Taela or Mrs. Choi.”

“Or,” Seokjin added, “we could simply ask Yoongi.”

“Ugh, no,” the purple haired boy complained. “He has a stick up his , I don’t think he’ll share that kind of info.”

Seokjin sighed. “Jungkook it is, then.”

“I can’t talk to Jungkook,” the black haired boy said, pensive, “but maybe I can talk to Taehyung. I could make them make up.”

“Hm, that could work.”

“Yeah,” the older smiled, “he likes you. He’ll listen.”

Hoseok could only wish. Taehyung looked like he was mad with everyone, and the last time they looked at each other in the eye, he only gave Hoseok a look of reproach, as if he had betrayed him. The dancer just hoped that he would reach him, somehow. He didn’t like to see him so hurt.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked in a soft tone.

Yoongi flinched.

The both of them were in their room, preparing their stuff to go out. They had been packing silently, both of them thinking about their own problems, not bothering to look at their roommate. Yoongi was sad and worried, yes. But he didn’t miss that Jimin was downcast, too. The ing difference was that he minded his own business, unlike the pink haired boy.

“ing fantastic, thanks,” he replied dryly, still showing his back to Jimin.

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.”

Ugh. Why did he even care?

“I’m fine, Jimin.”

“... Alright.”

Oh no, he didn’t. Yoongi did not just feel Jimin shrugging, as if he actually was alright with it. He was pulling that trick again. The trick where he pretended he was fine with Yoongi not telling him, but he would send waves of worry towards him, and Yoongi would notice. And from time to time, he would ask him about his problem, nagging him until he couldn’t take it anymore, until he’d spill everything. He was not gonna play that game.

“Okay,” he said with a tone of finality, zipping his backpack and turning around to look at him. Not as his eyes, though. He learned his lesson. “Jungkook won’t talk to me. Happy?”

“Oh,” Jimin simply answered. “Why?”

“We had a disagreement,” the blond grumbled, crossing his arms.

“What kind of disagreement?”

“Merlin, Jimin,” Yoongi huffed, “I’m not gonna tell you every goddamn detail about it.”

“Wow, okay,” the younger said as if he was offended while he folded some more clothes.

It really irked Yoongi. Jimin and his inexplicable need to know every single thing about his life and his problems. “Why are you upset?” he counterattacked.

It definitely caught the boy off guard. “M-me?”

“Yes, brat. I’m not gonna be the only idiot who’s gonna open up. Answer.”

“Well…” he averted his eyes, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Taehyung is still mad at me. For not telling him about Jungkook.”

“So you’re sad because your ‘bestie’ isn’t talking to you.”

Jimin huffed, indignated. “I’m sorry, what was your problem again?” The blond let out an embarrassed squawk when he realized what Jimin was saying. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

They stayed in silence for a while, both of them looking at their feet, thinking. After a while, Yoongi spoke up. “I guess I am a ty friend.”

“Same here,” Jimin chuckled softly.

“Nah, your situation is different. I’m the one who made you swear you wouldn’t tell anyone about Jungkook.”

“Ah… Well, I guess. You were pretty convincing.” Jimin could still remember all those moments when Yoongi was so serious, he looked like a different person. Whenever he threatened Jimin, the pink haired boy felt like his life was really in danger. As if Yoongi was someone very, very deadly. And then there were those other moments, like this one, where he looked vulnerable, or when he just ‘threatened’ him with non-related Jungkook stuff, where he simply was a grumpy kid. It was all so strange and surreal. How could a person live by those double standards?

“I’m sorry. But don’t worry too much. Taehyung seems like a nice guy. He’ll understand, eventually. And if that idiot doesn’t forgive you, I’ll go talk to him.”

“Please don’t break his legs,” Jimin said, half-joking.

“Yah! What kind of person do you think I am, huh?” Yoongi exclaimed, offended.

The pink haired boy laughed, while deep inside he was trying to answer that very same question.

Taehyung leaned his back against the tree and closed his eyes, sipping his juice. Before, when they were all in the dorm preparing for the trip, Hoseok had suddenly gone out, overwhelmed. He didn’t look well. Taehyung at first thought that maybe it was because he felt uncomfortable with the situation, but that contemplation went away the moment he saw him going out, his face sickly pale.

So the tanned boy was left alone in the room. With Jungkook. The younger flinched every time Taehyung did as much as direct his gaze towards his direction, guilt and sadness invading his expression. Taehyung couldn’t stand it. He wanted to be mad at the prince, but he felt bad whenever he caught a glimpse of those sad, doe eyes. So he left the room and went to get something from the cafeteria. Unfortunately, it was already closed, so he got a juice from the vending machine and went out to the gardens right after that. Lately he spent too much time in the gardens.

“Hey, are you okay?” Taehyung sighed. He thought he was alone. He even checked the tree was empty. He opened his eyes to look at the squirrel that observed him from a branch above him. “You look upset. ”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you for your concern,” he said, trying to hide his disdain. It wasn’t that squirrel’s fault that Taehyung was upset.

“You don’t look fine,” the squirrel frowned.

The tanned boy was about to reply when he heard a flutter of wings. “Bah, leave him be, he’s just angry because one of his friends didn’t tell him a secret or something,” a small crow commented as he perched on a branch.

“Wha— Who even told you that!?” Taehyung exclaimed, sitting up.

“That grey cat that goes with you everywhere… Turnip was it?”

The boy groaned. Of course it was Turnip. That damned cat liked gossip too much for her own good. Sometimes Taehyung envied people who couldn’t understand animals, oblivious to what they murmured every time. They were even worse that those old witches from his neighbourhood, he thought. They were alway