Essays swallowed me whole for a bit but I managed to climb out for just long enough to write this — I hope it’s not too disappointing.

You didn’t specify a member, so I chose to write about suga.

Warnings for, uh, weirdness?

Word count: 1160

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It was a lazy kind of morning for a lazy kind of boy. Late into the day, Yoongi cracked his eyes open for the first time since he’d gone to sleep the previous night, watching sunlight fall on the pillow next to his head in a wonderful state of peace and quiet that he never wanted to be rid of.

Sleeping in was his life, and even after waking up he would usually lie around in bed an extra half hour or so because it was so comfortable. He settled down, pulling the covers up closer to his chin…

And the doorbell rang, stupid annoying doorbell being loud and stupid person who wanted to see him this early in the morning (it was barely even noon..!) and stupid society that was forcing him to answer the door. Yoongi was going to murder whoever was out there, he really was.

With this cheering thought in mind, he got up out of bed and walked about twenty paces to the entrance to his apartment and yanked the front door open, mouth already opening to demand something along the general lines of “who the hell are you and what do you want from me so early in the morning,” but there was no one there.

That was a good thing, both for his sanity and for their lives.

Yoongi looked down, and saw that at his feet was a small package, accompanied by a little note on sticky paper:

You of all people need this, you forever-lonely . You need this badly. Take good care of it. -Santa Claus

Slightly stung at the note’s swing at the state of his love life, he scowled at it as though the inanimate object could apologize for offending him. It wasn’t Santa who’d sent him the box, that was for sure; it was nearly thirty degrees out, and Yoongi was pretty sure they still had about 5 months to wait before Christmas rolled around the corner.

He took his mail inside, though, and sat it on a table before he went back to his room to try and get some rest.

A few minutes later, he was awakened by the sound of his ringtone coming from the living room; grudgingly, Yoongi went to pick up.

“Hello?” He spoke into the receiver,  but the line was full of static. That was weird…

A sound like muffled crying pulled his attention from the phone to the still-unopened package sitting on the dining room table.

What was in that box that would cry? 

The message stuck onto it still upset him to a degree, but Yoongi’s curiosity threatened to devour him whole if he didn’t open the package soon.

He tore off the brown paper covering it to find a clean white box, onto which a pororo doll, a little user’s manual, and a miniature blanket had been secured with a rubber band.

“what the — hell!” When he opened the box, a little —

A little human fell out, ten or fifteen centimeters tall at the most, and Yoongi just lost it.

Panicking, he tried calling the only person he knew who might be able to take care of a miniscule sort-of-person in a box.

“Come on, Jin hyung, pick up…”

No response.

It took Yoongi a moment to realize that Jin was on vacation in Japan, and that his phone plan only covered calls within Korea.. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of it earlier, actually, because Seokjin had done a veritable lecture on what he would be doing in Osaka, in Tokyo, in Akihabara.

“Uhh..” Yoongi didn’t know who else to call, as Jin was basically his go-to friend for advice on, well, everything. He tried Hoseok’s number, and — bless his soul — he picked up.

“CometomyapartmentrightnowIdon'tcarewhatyou'redoingorhowimportantyouthinkitisthisisinfinitelymoreimportantthanwhateveryouredoingdropeverythingandbehereinfive.” He demanded. Hopefully that would be enough to get him some kind of help with this.. this person? Baby?

Ten minutes later, Hoseok opened the door, stepping in to his hyung’s most humble abode and immediately being bombarded with “You’re late"s and “Hoseokkkkkkk"s and a faint sound like crying somewhere in the background.
“Where’s the emergency?” He looked around, confused and a little disoriented.  

“Uh, you can probably hear it..”

And, of course, when shown the situation, Hoseok was as utterly flabberghasted as Yoongi was.

“You’re saying someone dropped a midget in a box on your doorstep and just left?”

“Yeah..”

“You should have called Jin hyung, I don’t know what to do.”

“Jin hyung is in Japan, !”

“Oh, oh right, sorry. Then.. call Namjoon.”

“Done. Uh, he’s not picking up, but I’ll leave a message..”

“Jungkook? Taehyung? Jimin?”

…

And that was how six guys ended up standing in the living room in Yoongi’s apartment, two of them slightly panicked and four very confused.
This was going to be a long, long, long day.

———

I apologize for the brevity and for the lack of focus on ‘you’ in the story, it’s been a while and I’m pretty much dead

I thought it’d be appropriate not to have Jin in here, he’d be too competent to be any fun to write about X) I wanted to make them struggle, am I not such a kind writer everyone

30 degrees Celsius, as the entire world uses that unit of temparature outside of science (where we use Kelvin), minus the US, so speshurrr >u< ; for those of our followers who live in the US of A, it’s summer weather, really hot for Canada’s standards (though not so in Korea), and my best friend, the Internet, tells me it’s around 86 Fahrenheit.