24; Falling into madness, better known as love

A couple strolled down the street; the cool, fresh, citrus air allowing for a perfect evening to take the dogs out for a healthy stroll.

Leashes chiming and jingling pleasantly as the stout hounds trudged along on their short limbs ahead, the man and woman shared an equally delightful conversation. Pets prancing about, arms linked, faces gleaming with happiness, and sharing comfortable, cool air with one another... these things painted the most picturesque of scenes.

However, that all changed rather abruptly.

‘You won’t be able to make it?’

Despite the disbelief and hint of amusement in the voice that passed the couple, what was most evident was the attractive, scratchy quality of each word. The form floated past, and almost naturally, the woman’s gaze followed it: healthy red hair that bounced with each step lightly and a stretched white shirt meeting the stranger's eager eyes. But what most likely struck the woman – now stopping entirely in her tracks with agape and partner cocking an eyebrow curiously at her bizarre behaviour – was the man’s handsome features even under the dim blanket of light falling from the street poles.

‘So handsome…,’ was all she managed to squeak, however Officer Park Jimin was far too engrossed in his phone call to register anything around him at that point as he walked.

Or perhaps he felt far too deflated to take notice of the attention he unknowingly garnered, having to unexpectedly leave the house at this time of the night. With his blazer bundled in countless ripples as he clutched it against the side of his hip, he held the phone in his free hand; windswept crimson hair brushing against his knuckles as he tilted his head back in mild disappointment.

‘Oh, come on! I’ll buy you dinner too if you say yes.’

‘Yah! Jim, since when did you become this desperate? It’s disgusting,’ the familiar deep voice on the other end chided.

‘Look, I met this really nice lady. If I don’t meet her tonight, then I’m never going to. As a man, you should understand my predicament here, dude.’

Jimin’s eyes widened, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the thought of his older colleague finally succeeding in finding himself a date.

‘But Namjoon-ah…,’ the latter reattempted; his voice rising a notch with visible strain which caused the other end of the line to fall unusually silent.

‘Please. I may not be that nice lady, but I’m your one and only cute junior…’

‘Jimin. If you’re attempting aegyo, please stop. You’re starting to sound like an obsessive psycho stalker.’

‘Ah, my last resort: ruined!’

He paused for a moment in deep thought; his polished shoes kicking up imaginary dirt on the sidewalk. Despite having Namjoon turn down his otherwise tempting offer, Jimin was still relatively energetic. And the only thing he could blame was what happened back at the station with his partner; a coy, undeniably thrilled grin surfacing on his face from time to time even as he sifted through humdrum paperwork at even the thought of it.

And as if he was there – observing his colleague with those narrowed, testing eyes of his – Namjoon hummed curiously from the other end of the line.

'You know, you're awfully chirpy for someone who's practically swamped in paperwork again...,' he paused, and the latter could only imagine the blonde's eyes popping open and mouth falling as he gasped dramatically.

'Wait, that's it! It's the trauma, right? Man, I knew you hated that desk job, but this is just too much...'

'Stop!' Jimin cried; his voice rising in the form of a musical note as he chuckled. 'I still can't believe I spent the last few hours through that torture but... something good happened. Sort of.'

The knowing smile on his face returned automatically at even the thought of Kyungja. He took in a deep breath – wetting his lips as he parted them to recall the exciting event to his blonde officer colleague – yet before he could speak again, a strangled cry came from the other line, stopping Jimin short.

'Shoot! I wasn't even looking at the time—Jim, I'm sorry, man. I have to go. See, this is why I despise making reservations.'

The redhead smiled understandingly. 'Of course.'

'We'll chat soon again,' he paused, and Jimin imagined the line would go dead, however Namjoon lingered; the somewhat crackly silence an indication of him breathing out deeply.

'Sorry that I can't make it tonight, Jimin.'

'Hey, don't sweat it,' the latter smiled before taking off again; a hand rising in the air as he brushed off the topic. 'And Officer Kim, fighting! Don't mess up.'

Earning a deep, hearty laugh from the other line, Jimin pulled the device away from his ear; the glass screen warming his fingers as he held it. One might question just what Officer Park was doing meandering around the neighbourhood after 8 in the evening, and as he stood on the pavement clutching his phone, Jimin wondered the same thing himself.

That is until he recalled returning home from the station exhausted and craving the chunky guacamole he whipped up from last night, only to find his housecat waiting for him at the door with – alarmingly – b affection. He was taken aback by the amount of purring she managed and the equally loving action of brushing against his shins when he entered. In fact, the only time he could ever recall Pepper showing him even the least bit affection would be the times she battled with him for a tiny space somewhere in between the piles of paperwork on his desk at home. She would be perched in the middle of the chaos, blocking the light from the lampshade, and occasionally swatting at his pen as he wrote to get his attention.

Ah, but it truly was too good to be true! The cat food had depleted considerably over the weeks he'd been engrossed in the case at hand, and so busy at both school and the station, he hadn't realized her morning meal that day consisted of the last of it.

Given no choice but to visit the local convenience store for more, the officer set out again; still attired in his work clothes and all. Despite the unexpected errand though, Jimin was still hopeful for a night out. But when his attempts at calling Taehyung – which proved fruitless considering he and Jihye were together, giggling nonstop – as well as Namjoon; his trusted partner in crime; didn't work out, his hopefulness dwindled.

Nevertheless, he couldn't get over just how quickly Taehyung and Jihye managed to repair the rift in their friendship. Perhaps the drama at school days prior had contributed to the fact that they were playing Twister hilariously, even whilst the latter was on the phone. Jimin barely grasping a word coming out of Taehyung's mouth, however he didn't mind considering the laughter that wavered through the phone call. And Taehyung's laughter was indeed something he imagined was not a very common sound.

Well, maybe he'd just end up spending the rest of the evening watching some sort of action movie with Pepper. But the more he dwelled on the prospect, it seemed like activity fit for a pensioner of sorts, actually. House cat and all for accompaniment in place of lively human beings.

With a cheery ring of the doorbell as he entered, Seokjin looked up from tinkering with the electronic till at the newest patron. Noting the familiar rust-coloured hair and matching pair of white shirt and black tie, the store clerk's lips curved into a friendly smile. He raised a hand in Jimin's direction from the counter, and glancing at the customers he served, he returned the gesture, almost naturally sauntering into the pet isle.

Somewhat in a rush considering Pepper was slightly starved at this point, Jimin swiftly grabbed the usual bag of cat biscuits and his heel again for the till. He noticed the patrons from earlier still lingering from across Seokjin, and standing behind them with his free hand in his pocket, took note of their strikingly short, wide forms. Perhaps he could even have mistaken them for life-sized gnomes.

That is, of course, when one of them happened to turn around while fiddling with the change in their hands, ultimately noticing him.

'Jimin-yah!'

And almost immediately, he placed who it was. In fact, it was almost impossible not to with the bright clothing each woman wore, the high-pitched voices, and the shaky hands they operated the goods over the counter with. Alongside the familiar old woman from around the neighbourhood that showered him with decadent treats if not praise, were two other elderly women. Their faces lit up upon seeing him, and he couldn't help but smile in response.

'Aunty...!' he greeted; lips splitting in delight, and teeth dazzling bright white in the light. 'I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you? Is your health OK?'

'Oh, you,' another one of the woman flicked her wrist at him playfully. 'Such a charmer. I swear you're getting more handsome every day.'

'Ah, look at that red hair. It suits you, Jimin-ah.'

'And all dressed up already!'

Jimin chuckled heartily; heat rising to his cheeks at the praise they each offered him as he placed the bag of cat biscuits on the counter. He could tell Seokjin was shaking his head amusedly at the scene from the side of his eye, however the old women didn't give him a chance to respond to the latter's reaction.

'Don't be too late to the party, OK? You know our old bones start creaking by 10.'

The women chuckled gaily and Jimin blinked in response; the smile on his face faltering. Party? Did he hear correctly? He stared at them for what seemed to be an hour then as his mind rummaged through the deep dark recesses for any recollections of the event whatsoever when suddenly it dawned on him. The tea party.

'O-oh, right! Of course, yeah! I was just on my way...,' he stammered, hoping desperately that the fresh glimmer of sweat on his forehead wasn't visible.

'I'm running a bit late because... uh...'

'Oh, Pepper, is it?' another queried from behind, gesturing to the bag of cat food in his hand.

'Don't worry, don't worry. I'll tell the ladies you're coming soon so we can get everything in full swing. Don't be too late, Jimin!'

What they possibly meant by 'full swing', Jimin had no idea of. Or at least he was far too panicked at the time to, fishing for the notes in his pocket and barely reacting to Seokjin's childish prodding as he raced back home just as hastily.

He waited nervously outside the familiar door; feet shuffling and fingers combing through his ruby hair every few seconds. A few wayward strands flared unexpectedly, and smoothing them down with a single hand – the guacamole now made into canapés in his other – he could only imagine the maniacal running from his house was the cause of the breathless look he assumed.

Apart from slightly taxed however, Jimin wasn't entirely sure why he felt anxiety as well. But he was certain it had something to do with the attire he'd pulled out from the very back of his wardrobe for the occasion; Pepper watching him from the doorway laboriously as if he threw out all his belongings in search for the most decent, scholarly thing he owned. Black, fitted chinos, sienna oxfords, and a pewter dress shirt he made sure to tuck under his belt. Combined with his crimson-dyed hair – somewhat windswept, in turn exposing his forehead – Jimin was most certainly dressed for a cultured occasion. And that was most likely what elicited the nerves he felt then. The only time he ever dressed so primly was for work, but then too that was a different occasion altogether.

Self-consciously a few strands of his hair as he waited outside on the step; contemplating briefly sounding the buzzer for the second time; the door rattled open, mildly startling him.

‘Well that was quick,’ the old woman’s familiar face greeted him with a toothy smile; wrinkles adorning the corners of her eyes and mouth as she did.

The expression was infectious. And the moment he noticed the delight on the elderly woman’s face, Jimin’s own cheeks rose; lips splitting into an equally bright smile.

‘Good evening,’ he responded, entering the home with a humble dip of the chin as the old lady coaxed him in. ‘I hope you didn’t wait for me to get started…’

The officer’s voice trailed off slowly as his keen eyes took in the new surroundings. The house was undeniably weathered – chipped paint and termite-stricken railings and indication of this – however the interior was surprisingly as cordial as the old women he helped regularly during the mornings. His runs had been scheduled far earlier in the mornings as of late to accommodate the cold sun that crept in as the days continued, meaning he saw the pensioners scarcely. It was no wonder they had looked as surprised as they did when they noticed his relatively new hair colour and spoke to him as if they hadn't seen him in weeks. Because they really hadn't.

The colour palette of the home remained within an orbit of murky emeralds and coffee browns, where the warm glow of dainty table lamps on odd pieces of furniture in the foyer enhanced the homeliness of the combination.

And as if it wasn’t enough visual stimuli as Jimin looked around, the smell of something warm and sweet – warm sugar and mellow nutmeg, if he wasn’t mistaken – wafted throughout the house pungently. His eyes moved around the room from the various scattered trinkets to a small, potted flower on a shelf next to a handful of dusty books. A large, bulbous, green, fleshy succulent.

And Jimin hadn’t realised he was staring at the plant until the sound of shuffling feet reached his ears, pulling him out of his reverie. Much like what he'd observed at the convenience store, another elderly woman appeared; this time a more familiar one at that. Her short, however scrawny stature was unmissable, and attired in pale clothing brought to life by a shimmerin