It was an average Sunday afternoon for Jin - except for the fact that Jimin had invited himself into the older man’s apartment for an impromptu brunch of pancakes and eggs, and was currently in danger of breaking half of the bowls in Jin’s kitchen as he tried to prepare the batter.

“Hyung, where do you keep your whisk?” Jimin yelled from across the kitchen.

The question was followed by a large crash, and Jin turned around to see the majority of his utensils lying on the floor in a cluttered heap.

“Whoops…” Jimin murmured.

With a loud sigh, Jin abandoned the eggs he was trying to cook in the pan on the stovetop burner, and turned his attention to helping the younger man clean up his impressive mess, tossing the spoons and spatulas into the sink to be washed later.

“Remind me why I let you in my apartment again?” teased Jin sleepily.

The older man was tired, but he was doing his best to be patient with Jimin. The boy really did seem like he was trying to learn, and Jin had been the one who’d offered to teach him some new recipes when they had talked over the phone the previous week. He just hadn’t expected Jimin to show up so suddenly - not to mention unannounced.

Still crouching as he collected the dropped cutlery, Jin looked up at his friend as he awaited the inevitable, rhetorical answer, but Jimin was staring past him, toward the stovetop where the eggs sat cooking.

“Uh, Jin? The eggs are smoking.”

Jin whipped around just as the small smoke detector on the side of the refrigerator went off. The beeping was annoyingly loud, and sure to wake up more than one or two very disgruntled neighbors, so Jin took the batteries out of the detector before making any attempt at dealing with the eggs. He took the pan off the heat, dumping the charred remains of yolks and whites in the sink before rinsing the cooking vessel and tossing it in with the plethora of other things to be washed.

“I didn’t know eggs could burn like that,” marveled Jimin.

His hands covered in a thin film of soapy water, Jin was about to open his mouth to say something when the doorbell rang. He held his tongue, brows crossed in dissatisfaction, and went to answer the door.

“Don’t touch anything,” he warned Jimin as he left the kitchen.

❧

Facing the door of his apartment, Jin prepared himself to deal with what he assumed was an angry neighbor come to complain about the loud noises so early in the morning. It was barely after 10AM, and although Jin had already been up for a few hours, he knew that several of his neighbors liked to sleep in on weekends.

He opened the door, and was immediately met by an empty hallway.

That’s strange.

Just as Jin was about to close the door, he noticed something to the side of the frame that made him pause. It was a package. Strange - firstly because Jin was usually forced to drag himself down to the mailroom to pick up all the deliveries he received - but also because he wasn’t expecting a shipment of anything, and couldn’t remember placing any orders online for the past couple of weeks. He was about to question whether or not the small, flat brown box was even meant for him when he noticed his name and address printed on the shipping label.

Shrugging, Jin picked up the box and carried it inside. It was surprisingly light, so maybe one of his neighbors had found the package in the mailroom and decided to drop it off at Jin’s door since it wasn’t any trouble to carry. He set the box down on an end table, and was about to head back into the kitchen, when Jimin appeared beneath the connecting archway. The younger man stood there between the kitchen and living room as he pointed to the package on the table.

“What’s that?” questioned Jimin.

The streaks of flour that covered his face suggested that the young man had definitely not followed Jin’s instructions to not touch anything, and had probably made another giant mess while the latter was busy answering the door. Jin replied that he didn’t know, and tried to push his way past Jimin into the kitchen.

“Well… Why don’t you open it?”

Jimin was leaning against the frame of the arch, trying to act nonchalant even as he was obviously attempting to block Jin from entering the kitchen. Jin’s eyes drifted back to the package on the tabletop, but Jimin’s stayed fixated on the elder’s face, trying to gauge the other man’s expression. Jin made it clear that he wasn’t keen on buying the act, and tried again to push Jimin aside.

“Come on,” smiled Jimin nervously. “I think we should check out what’s in the box.”

“The scissors are in a drawer in the kitchen,” Jin explained with a small smirk. “And I’m going to find your latest mess eventually, so you might as well just let me see it now so we can get this over with.”

❧

Pouting, Jimin stepped aside to let Jin into the kitchen, where the latter discovered a gooey swirl of flour and egg covering one of his countertops.

“You know you’re supposed to mix this in a bowl, right?” taunted Jin as he grabbed the scissors out of one of the only drawers that hadn’t been totally ravaged by Jimin.

“Yes,” muttered Jimin. “I tried to crack the eggs on the counter, but they exploded everywhere and then I tried to use flour to clean it up. I thought it would turn into a dough or something, and then I would be able to scrape it into a bowl.”

Jin chuckled as he rustled the younger man’s flour-coated hair. The movement sent up a cloud of white powder, and Jimin coughed lightly as he followed his friend back into the living room.

“I’ll give you some points for innovation, but just for future reference: no, that definitely doesn’t work.”

Jin took the package off of the table, and sat down on the floor with the box in his lap.

“Doing that only works if you put the flour on the table first, and then you make pasta dough - not pancakes.”

Jimin hugged his own knees as he watched Jin cut away the paper that covered the thing cardboard box inside. The younger man grumbled something under his breath about how he still thought it was a good idea, and how would Jin know that it wouldn’t work if he’d never tried? Jin ignored the younger man as he pulled out a white box - one that looked like the kind often used at department stores.

Jin lifted off the lid of the box, and stared in confusion at the thing that was lying inside.

“What is it?” buzzed Jimin excitedly as he clambered over the older man’s shoulder, trying to get a better look at the mysterious contents of the package.

Jin lifted a long, red dress out of the slender box, holding it by the straps as he wondered how such a thing had been sent to him in the first place. The dress was sleeveless aside from the skinny straps, and looked like it would be floor-length except for the ruffled slit that ran up one side of its flowy skirt. The crimson fabric was soft and smooth, and the frock itself looked like something a young woman might wear to a dance or a fancy dinner party. Jin certainly didn’t remember buying it, and he was at a loss for how to explain how the thing had ended up in a package addressed to his apartment.

“Um… Jin?” began Jimin, hardly able to hold back his laughter. “Is there… anything I should know about your private life?”

“This isn’t mine,” Jin scoffed. He knelt to check the return address on the discarded bits of wrapping paper. “It must have been sent to me by mistake.”

He looked all over the packaging and the mailing slip, but all that was written there was his own name and address. There was no return postage, no company logo, and no clue as to where the dress had come from.

❧

“Well, this is just great,” grunted Jin with displeasure. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this stupid dress?”

“Hey, if you wanna get us some reservations at that upscale new restaurant down the street, I’d be happy to take you as my date,” offered Jimin sarcastically.

Jin swatted at the younger man playfully as he fished a wire hanger out of the bottom of the box. He slipped the narrow shoulders of the dress over the triangular form, and held it out at arm's length to examine the garment fully.

“You’re willing to do anything if a meal is involved,” he laughed at Jimin.

“No; I just think you’d make a really pretty girl,” teased the other. He ducked as Jin tried to shove him with the hand that wasn’t holding onto the scarlet dress. “But speaking of which, we should really get back to finishing up those pancakes.”

The two friends returned to the kitchen after Jin briefly left to hang the dress up on a hook by his bedroom closet. He decided that he would have to come up with something to do with the damn thing later, as Jimin was likely to burn down the small kitchen if Jin left him unattended for too long. After all was said and done, the pancakes actually turned out surprisingly okay, although Jin suspected that that was mostly due to the fact that Jimin insisted on dumping nearly an entire bag of chocolate chips into the batter. They abandoned the idea of making scrambled eggs to go alongside their fried globs of batter, and by noontime, Jimin was waving goodbye to Jin from the street below, the kitchen mostly tidied-up after the morning’s adventures.

After Jin lost sight of Jimin as the younger man walked down the street, he went back into his room to stare at the dress. He supposed he could donate it to charity or even a second hand shop, but at the same time he worried that it could be seen as a bit strange for a single man to come in with only a bright red dress to drop off. He decided to collect some additional pieces of old clothing to donate so that he could hide the dress in a pile of fabric, and left the gown hanging in the meantime next to his closet until he could sort out which of his rarely-worn shirts he was ready to part with.

Jin spent the rest of the day reorganizing the drawer that Jimin had accidentally pulled out and dropped, and before too long he had enjoyed a filling dinner and gotten ready for bed. Now, it was rather late at night, and Jin found himself glancing over at the crimson dress, which was still in its spot beyond the foot of his bed.

The silky material was quite fluid-looking in the pale moonlight, and Jin thought he saw it rustle slightly from the breeze that must have been entering his bedroom through the air duct. It was a beautiful dress, he had to admit, but one that the young man had no use for. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was again of how strange it was for him to receive a package with a single article of women’s clothing. Still, he supposed that stranger mix-ups had happened, and he fell quickly into a calm, peaceful sleep.

❧

The next morning, Jin tried to throw the covers off as he leapt out of bed, but his hand was stopped when it became trapped under an unexpected layer of fabric.

That’s odd.

He s his other hand up to gently peel away the blanket, and discovered that the dress he’d received in the mail was now spread out across his body, lying on top of Jin between his blanket and his flimsy pajama shirt.

Jin picked up the silky drape of fabric with a very puzzled look on his face. He could have sworn he had left the dress hanging up on the hook next to his closet, and he had no idea how it had made its way into bed with him. The loose material cascaded over his legs, and Jin had to be careful not to trip as he swung his feet over the edge of the mattress and shuffled over to replace the gown on its hanger - which was still by the door exactly where he’d left it.

Jin stumbled into the kitchen to make himself breakfast - thankfully alone this time instead of being hindered by the “assistance” of Jimin - and sat down at the table to enjoy some fruit juice while he waited for the food to cook. As he sipped at the orange-colored liquid, Jin’s phone buzzed, and when he checked it, he was greeted by a message from Jimin.

“Did you decide what to do with that weird dress?” the text asked.

Jin smiled to himself as he answered it.

“Yes; I’m going to donate it to charity. Why? Did you want to borrow it?”

The older man thought that it was only fair to tease Jimin a little bit as payback for his snide comments yesterday. And for repeatedly trashing Jin’s kitchen. The smirking man awaited his younger friend’s response as he served himself a bowl of the porridge that had just finished cooking. When he sat back down at the small wooden table, he discovered that Jimin had sent another text, and he read it while he chewed his food.

“So you’re saying you haven’t even tried it on?”

The message ended with a cheekily winking emoticon, and Jin shook his head as he swallowed a mouthful of food. He thought back to the flowing gown, which had somehow gotten laid over him as he’d slept during the night. He hadn’t exactly been wearing it, per se, when he’d finally woken up. Although Jin did have to admit that, strangely enough, the gown looked like it would be just about his size. He wondered if one of his friends had sent it to him as an odd prank.

“I think red might really be your color,” came a follow-up text from Jimin with another smiley face mocking Jin with its cheesy grin.

❧

Jin picked up the phone and hurriedly dialed Jimin’s mobile number, hardly waiting for the younger man to answer before barking forcefully into the mouthpiece.

“You little punk. Did you send me that dress?” questioned Jin. He heard Jimin giggle on the other end of the phone. “Answer me, Jimin!”

“No, I didn’t send you the dress,” replied Jimin between spurts of laughter. “What makes you think I would do something like that?”

“Because I woke up with it lying on top of me this morning,” responded Jin without thinking.

He realized too late that this would only give Jimin more fuel to use in taunting him later on, but it was too late to take back the words now.

“And I don’t know how it got there,” he added quickly, “but I’m sure it had something to do with you.”

“Come on, Jin,” sighed Jimin. “How would I be able to get into your apartment without a key? And even if I did, why would I want to cover you with some random dress? What would I gain from that, dude?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Jin. “The satisfaction of humiliating me? A good laugh from making me think I’ve lost my mind?”

“Both very appealing outcomes,” tormented Jimin with another snicker. “But, no. I didn’t have anything to do with the dress.”

Part of Jin wanted to keep accusing his friend of messing with the mysterious frock, but in the back of his mind he thought that Jimin sounded honest. And he could even detect a slight hint of confusion in the younger man’s voice. He apologized hastily and hung up, more confused than he had been before making the call.

Jin glanced at the dress through the crack of his open bedroom door, but it was still sitting unmoving on its hanger by the closet. Before leaving for work, Jin put the gown in the wardrobe next to his dress shirts, thinking that perhaps if he didn’t look at the garment, he wouldn’t be bothered by trying to figure out how the thing had gotten under his sheets from all the way across the room last night. The young man shut the little closet, then the door leading to his room, and finally he locked his apartment door as he made his way to his office down the street. His commute was short, but Jin found himself hopelessly plagued by thoughts of the red dress, slipping off of its hanger and sliding over to strangle him in his sleep.

Jin told himself that he was being ridiculous, and by the time he was pushing through the revolving door, he had all but forgotten about the previous night’s incident, and was focused only on doing his job.

❧

After getting ready for bed that night, however, Jin thought of the dress once again, and decided to check to make sure it was still safely in the closet. It was; hanging right between his pink button down and his suit jacket where he had carefully placed it that very morning, and knowing this for certain made Jin feel much better as he laid his head down on his pillow. Resting comfortably on his back, Jin slipped into a dreamless sleep as he breathed gently and steadily.

Some time in the middle of the night, Jin awoke with a flinching start. He had been slumbering peacefully when suddenly he felt something brush against his cheek. Like thin fingers trailing over the curves of his face, the soft touch lingered as Jin fell out of bed, crashing into the floor hip first. Jin rubbed the side of his pelvis where it had already started to bruise, and stood up shakily to turn on the lights.

The first thing he noticed was the bright red dress, which was sprawled out across his bed where the covers had been roughly thrown aside. The way the fabric cascaded over his wide, flat mattress made it look almost as if the gown was reaching out to Jin.

Stupid dress.

Jin shoved the dress back into the closet, vowing to get rid of it first thing in the morning. He didn’t care if he got funny looks from the clothing drive volunteers for dropping off such a feminine article; he wanted the damned thing out of his house and away from his bed before it could cause any more trouble. Thinking better of keeping it in the bedroom with him while he tried to sleep, Jin exited into the living room and draped the dress messily across the couch to ensure that it couldn’t bother him again.

He closed the door behind him before getting back into bed, falling asleep reasonably quickly despite his rude awakening.

❧

Not even an hour later, Jin was woken up again; this time by a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. It felt like something was sitting on top of him, and a sharp pain radiated through his abdomen when the young man tried to sit up. In fact, Jin found that no matter what body part he tried to force to move, he was unable to do even so much as wiggle his toes.

Curious immobility aside, Jin was extremely uncomfortable as a result of the object sitting on his chest, and his head was permanently pointed to the ceiling. This made it so that he couldn’t see what it was that was keeping him pinned to the bed, but by shifting his eyes downward, he could make out a wide streak of red against the crisp, white bedsheets.

A phantom hand brushed against his sweaty cheek, just as it had earlier that same night. Jin swallowed heavily as he tried futilely to get up.

“Seokjin.”

The sudden presence of hot breath sent shivers down Jin’s spine as the word was whispered into his ear. The weight shifted off of his chest, and he saw the ruby dress slide gracefully onto the bed next to him. Even though the gown was now mostly no longer on top of him, Jin was still totally unable to move, and he prayed as he stared straight up at the ceiling that this was all nothing but a dream.

The invisible fingers trailed down the side of his face again before coming to rest on his aching ribs. Jin could feel a slender palm cover the beating of his panicked heart, which was thumping rapidly beneath the thin fabric of his tee-shirt.

“Seokjin,” repeated the breathy voice. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Jin was strangely intrigued by the female voice that came from directly next to his ear, but any curiosity was pushed away by fear as the disembodied vocalizations continued.

“Why do you want to get rid of me, Seokjin?”

Jin wanted to speak; wanted to be able to make any noise at all. Unforetunately for him, though, his tongue was firmly caught in his throat, making it impossible for Jin to do anything more than squeak.

“Shhhhh,” soothed the voice.

Jin felt something brush through his hair, combing out the tangles that had formed as he slept.

“Just stay here awhile; won’t you?” whispered the voice.

Jin focused all of his limited energy on forming the words he wanted to speak. He strained with the effort, as it still felt like a pile of bricks was crushing his diaphragm as the long dress slumped elegantly across his midsection. He could only make out part of the bed in front of him, but he thought that the straps of the dress were positioned somewhere on the mattress next to him while the skirt flowed softly across his body and onto the carpeted floor. If there was an actual person wearing the gown, their legs would have been draped across his stomach as their head hovered close to his broad shoulders.

“Go. Away,” he hissed after several moments of concentration.

The dress didn’t seem to like that. Jin felt fabric wrap around his neck as the dress slid up his chest and crushed his windpipe. The pressure released after a few seconds, and the straps on dress relaxed as Jin gasped for air. It was a warning, he realized, to keep his mouth shut and not try anything else.

“I don’t want to go away,” whined the voice.

The sound was almost deafening to the right of his immobile head, and Jin would have covered his sensitive ear if he had been able to move his arms at all. He blinked slowly as he waited for the dizziness to gradually subside, and he felt another light touch on the side of his face.

“Stay with me, Seokjin,” purred the soft voice.

The caress turned abruptly into a scratch, and Jin found himself powerless to stop the pain as invisible nails dragged over the skin on his face. The attack ended with a hand wrapped loosely around his throat - not choking the young man, but reminding him to behave unless he wanted to be strangled more forcefully.

Jin stared up at the dark ceiling, unable to defend himself as the dress sat lounging by his side, the hem of the skirt swinging slightly over the edge of the downy mattress. He had nothing to do but wait for morning to come, and hope that maybe Jimin or someone would think to check up on him in a few hours when he didn’t show up for work. Otherwise Jin would have to get very used to the gentle bursts of billowing air that tickled rhythmically at the edge of his face.

I think if there’s one thing we can all agree on here, it’s that Jin does look absolutely fabulous in a red dress. I was inspired partially by the one that he’ s forced to wear on an episode of Rookie King, although that wasn’t exactly the style of dress I was imagining while writing this.

I feel like the “woman in a red dress” is such a classic element of horror for some reason. I have a very distinct memory of listening to one of my friends recount a legend from the summer camp she went to where the lake was supposedly haunted by a floating dress that would lure people into their watery deaths. We were on a school trip to Canada at the time, and I did not sleep at all that night! Looking back, the story wasn’t even all that scary - and I blocked my ears for most of it, haha - but I was an easily frightened and impressionable thirteen year old, so I got creeped out more than I should have. Actually, not a lot has changed since then… I’d still probably freak myself out!