Seokjin wakes up to the fragrance of flowers.

It’s been a while since he’s had a dreamless night’s rest and so the first things that come to his mind are not the adventures he embarks on when his eyes are closed for once, but instead the fragments of the night before.

Blearily he remembers Yoongi leaving, his smirk infuriating and the silence afterwards scorching. He hadn’t hung around for long afterwards, paying the bill quickly and bidding Minjae the waitress and Kwangsu the bartender goodnight. They had been friendly enough, returning the favor and encouraging him to come for another meal before you leave. It was a much nicer reception than that of Min Yoongi’s, but the underlying message was all the same: you are a tourist and you will eventually leave.

The last Seokjin remembers after that is somehow making his way to the inn and falling straight asleep on the sheets the minute the door had closed behind him, fully clothed and all.

His mouth feels like cotton as he pushes himself upright now and rubs at one drool coated cheek.  His clothes are crumpled and he can feel a rawness burning at the back of his eyes. He feels awful.

The only thing that lessens the griminess of his body is the pleasant fragrance coming from the wooden table in the corner of the room. Seokjin blinks twice and the world swims into steadiness.

A single flower sits in the vase, a pretty little white flower with broad petals and a thick green stem. It must have been placed there before he came back, but in his tiredness he had missed it.  

Seokjin pads over to the desk, leaning down to grasp one petal between his thumb and index finger. Its firm between his fingers, freshly cut. He leans down to inhale its fragrance and it reminds him of the tiny park near his house back in Anyang that his mother used to take him to every weekend before work became an all-consuming part of her life and there was no longer time to go spot flowers.  

There’s a note folded next to it. Seokjin lets go of the petal so he can pick it up.

Apologies for not being there to greet you on your arrival. I am the granddaughter of the establishment. My name is Soojung and I am in charge of housekeeping in this place. If there is anything you need please don’t hesitate to leave a note on the table or down at the reception desk.

I hope you enjoy your stay dear traveler.

The handwriting is curved and light, evident care taken in each word. Seokjin likes the way she calls him ‘traveler’, the word soft when he shapes his mouth around it. It’s a lot nicer than the harsh syllables of ‘tourist’. He thinks that even without meeting her he like her already.

That is not to say though that he dislikes Min Yoongi, even though he has met the man and heard what he has to say. Seokjin knows better than to judge people based on first appearances. Not to say that first appearances aren’t important, because to a traveler like him who usually only meets people for very brief moments, first appearances are everything. But it’s when he has to chance to learn more about a person, that’s when first appearances can take a backseat.

Seokjin glances at his phone. It tells him its eleven twenty and that he’s overslept by quite a margin.

He showers, dresses and checks his phone again whilst his hair dries. There are a few comments on his blog which he answers. Then he grabs a slip of paper and scribbles down a quick reply for Soojung, thanking her for the flower and the kind words. Her note, he tucks into the drawer.

The sun is high in the sky by the time he’s finished. The ocean is as gorgeous as it was the day before, the streets as empty as he remembered it being. He leaves in high spirits. He feels refreshed and ready.

It’s taken him a whole shower to process and sort through the mess of last night, but he knows it now. Min Yoongi, Minjae, the old man at the front desk downstairs, they’ve all confirmed one thing through avoiding saying it outright: there is something strange about this town, something they want to hide, and Seokjin wants to know what that something is. 

Min Yoongi seems to be a good place to start.

===

Seokjin ends up lost around four hours later and kind of just keeps going.

He may have decided on a course to follow, but he hadn’t really planned how he was going to achieve that. Sure he had met Yoongi last night at the pub but what were the chances it would happen two nights in a row?

He had thought to ask Minjae or Kwangsu for Yoongi’s contact details but the pub had been closed when he had gone there, a sign saying they only opened from five thirty to three in the morning.

He had decided to come back then to ask, and in the meanwhile had gone for a wander and of course ended up lost. It’s what happens when he doesn’t religiously map out his footsteps but he hadn’t felt like it today, felt more like giving in to the lure of the unknown around every corner. He’s used to it and so he doesn’t mind it much, but when he looks up and sees the sun begin to sink he decides that maybe it’s time to find someone and ask for directions.

He finds a gas station ten minutes later and brightens. Surely there must be someone there who knows.

The station like the rest of the town is grey-washed and run down. There is a pile of cars round the corner and in the front a small drive in with three pillars, each fitted with a gas pump of a different kind of petrol. Behind those is a dusty window front which hides the shop within.

Seokjin doesn’t have to look far to find a person.

He wears a baseball cap down low, jerseys and loose pants. A shiny black SUV is parked at one of the stations and the boy has his fingers curled around the handle of a gas pump slotted into the back of the car. He’s humming to himself as he waits for the numbers to tick up. He has a low baritone and Seokjin approaches him carefully, hoping not to startle him.

The man pulls the pump out from the car and closes the latch. A window rolls down and a hand shoots out, throwing two green bills out before the owner hits the pedal and the car shoots off.

“Bastard,” gas pump guy hisses and slots the gas pump back where it goes before he bends to pick up the cash. His teeth are clenched around what looks like a lollipop stick and when he stands their eyes meet. “Oh,” he says, sounding faintly surprised.

“Hi,” Seokjin says awkwardly by way of greeting. “I um, just wanted to ask for directions.”

Gas pump guy pulls the lollipop out from his mouth and produces a wrapper with the other, stuffs the two together and shoves it back into his pocket. Seokjin has to suppress himself from scolding the stranger at how unhygienic that looks.

“You new around here?” gas pump guy says as he jerks his head, an invitation for Seokjin to come closer. 

Seokjin sidles in, eyes taking in the dusty and decrepit look of the gas station, the walls old and graffitied, trash swept into a messy pile in one corner. “Yeah. I got here yesterday. I’m staying at Lily.”

“Oh the old guy who runs it is really nice,” gas pump guy comments. “Do you have a map?”

“Yeah here,” Seokjin says as he pulls it out. It’s getting crumpled and he might need to ask for a new one if he doesn’t take better care of it soon.

Gas pump guy unfolds it and rests it against the concrete pillar. “You’re here,” he says, pointing to a spot a few miles south east of Lily. “Where are you trying to go?”

Seokjin glances at the sky. The sun is starting to fall back to Earth, plummeting at the slowest rate possible.

“Do you know the pub by the boardwalk?”

“Yeah,” gas pump guy says and points to a different spot. “You have a pen?”

Seokjin offers him his and gas pump guy circles their current location and the pub, then proceeds to explain to him the best route there. “You got that all?”

He tips his head back to look and Seokjin and it’s the first time that Seokjin actually gets a good look at him. Underneath the brim his face is boyishly round and a nice tanned color. He coughs when Seokjin doesn’t immediately reply.

“Oh, uh, yes, thanks.”

Gas pump guy folds up the map again and offers it back to Seokjin. “You meeting someone there?” he asks as he hands it over, the pen placed on top.

Seokjin takes it with two hands. “Well I hope to.”

He gets a raised eyebrow in return.

“I met him yesterday at the pub. There’s no guarantee he’ll be there tonight again.”

A smirk flashes over gas pump guy’s face.

“It’s not like that,” Seokjin says roughly, eyes rolling and he smacks the edge of the folded map lightly atop gas pump guy’s hat, nudging the brim down so that it cover gas pump guy’s eyes. “He just….kind of insulted me and I wanted to get back at him.”

Gas pump guy pushes the brim of his hat back up and gives him a questioning look. “Is he from around here?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “His name is Min Yoongi.”

Gas pump guy snorts so loudly it startled Seokjin. “Sorry, sorry,” gas pump guy waves his hand, still chortling. “Of course that guy would.”

“You know him?” Seokjin says.

“Yeah I do,” gas pump guy chortles. “We’re kind of friends. Oh but I don’t think he’ll be showing up at the pub tonight. It’s Kookie’s day off and he’ll probably be at the hideout instead.” Gas pump guy gives him a once-over. “I can show you how to get there.”   

Seokjin’s eyes light up. “Can you?”

“Yeah,” gas pump guy grins. “It’ll be fun to see what you have to say to him. Tell you what, I get off in twenty. If you don’t mind waiting then I can take you there directly. It’s a little hard to show you on the map.”

Seokjin’s smile rounds out. “Why not.”

“Cool,” gas pump guy says. He holds out a hand. “Kim Namjoon.”

Seokjin takes it. “Kim Seokjin.”

Namjoon grins when he hears Seokjin’s surname. “Good surname you got there,” he says.

Seokjin laughs. “I could say the same to you.”

“Go have a seat indoors. I’ll be in soon to lock up anyway.”

Seokjin takes the offer and heads in. His feet ache from walking all day and even the hard plastic chairs inside feel like a luxury right now. He looks about and sees the aisles of packaged food, the fridges dimly lit by white bulbs and filled with assortments of canned drinks. The floor is linoleum and the walls probably were once upon a time a creamy beige color. There’s a cashier at the far end but it’s unmanned. Seokjin wonders if Namjoon does that as well as run the gas pumps outside.

He turns his head to look back out the dusty windows in time to see Namjoon guide another car into position and duck down to ask the driver what he or she wants. The pump goes in and Namjoon leans back against the pillar, the lollipop back between his teeth as he watches the numbers roll by. This time the money is exchanged between hands, but the car leaves just as abruptly as the previous.

Alone in the wide space of the gas station, Namjoon looks awfully small, Seokjin thinks. He stares after the car like he too wants to hop in one and drive off.

It tempts Seokjin to get up and go keep him company. But before he gets the chance to he sees Namjoon striding down the pillars, checking and noting the numbers and then switching off a plug somewhere before he heads over to the shop.

The door rings as he opens it and his smile is broad as he sees Seokjin still sitting there. “It’s a little early but I’ll close up first,” he says with a conspiratorial wink to Seokjin. “No one comes here this late anyway.”

His movements are quick and efficient. He checks the food stuff and makes sure the fridge plugs are in tightly. Money comes out of his pocket and is stuffed into the register that Namjoon then locks with a  key that then gets shoved somewhere below the counter.

“Is that safe?” Seokjin can’t help but ask.

“Probably not,” Namjoon shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. The owner comes round at six every day to collect the money. Should be fine until then. Shall we go?”

Namjoon holds the door for him and leads him round this path that goes behind the gas station. Seokjin gets a better look at the rows of cars piled up behind a chain link fence.

“Some of them are old scraps that people don’t want and we keep for spare parts. Others are in there to be fixed,” Namjoon says when Seokjin gives a searching look at the place. “The gas station runs as a kind of garage as well. Well, I’m not the one who fixes them though.”

They pass it and head away from the town centre. The buildings are rings of brown and black, crooked and circular like the rings of an old oak. Namjoon walks the roads like he is king and no car can knock him down. Seokjin follows him with only the slightest hesitance, honest.

“So um Namjoon,” Seokjin says as he glances over his shoulder for the telltale sign of headlights. “Where are we heading?”

“Relax,” Namjoon says with a chuckle. “Like I said, no one drives around here at night. People prefer their own two feet. It’s why we close up the gas station like that. And we’re heading to the train yard.”

“The train yard?” Seokjin echoes, puzzled.

“Yeah,” Namjoon hums. “We have this place we like to meet up at. It’s not much but we found a few things, seats and stuff to make it comfy and we’ve kind of made it a hideout of ours.”

It’s a cute idea, boys making their fort, and it makes Seokjin’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile.

“I haven’t told any of them that I’m bringing you…” Namjoon says suddenly and side-glances Seokjin. “You do know Yoongi-hyung right?”

“I do,” Seokjin assures him. “We met last night at the pub.”

“Oh, okay then.” There’s another searching look. “What did Yoongi-hyung say to you?”

Seokjin huffs. “He called me a tourist.”

Namjoon laughs, loud and brash. It’s a nice sound and it rebounds through the street as they turn around a corner and head back into relative civilization with its brighter lights and crowd. “That definitely sounds like Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon says, humor infused in his words.

“It was mean,” Seokjin pouts.

“Yoongi-hyung doesn’t mean it,” Namjoon says earnestly. “He just acts all rough whenever he meets someone new. He’s just being careful.”

“It’s not like I’m going to hurt him,” Seokjin complains.

Namjoon gives him a sideward smile. “It’s not himself that he’s worried about.”

“Then who?”

“His little brother. Or well, adoptive little brother. I don’t think it’s actually official but they’re practically inseparable, so basically they’re brothers.”

The thought of some tiny kid clinging to Yoongi somehow softens his image just like that and Seokjin thinks that if Yoongi ever comes off as intimidating again, he’s just going to remember this image and everything will be alright.

“It’s just a little further,” Namjoon says as he leads them off the path and into a more underbrush kind of place. Seokjin can make out the trains from here. In the growing darkness they resemble nothing more than shadowy giants, the rectangular cargo compartments these great mountains that fill the skyscape.

“How many are there?” Seokjin asks in wonderment as Namjoon taps his shoulder to guide him in a different direction.

“Dunno,” Namjoon says bluntly. “These are just the cargo ones though. The other trains for passengers are over on the other side. You can’t see them from here. Do you like trains?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin says a little distantly.

“Well then we should bring you to them another day when it’s light’s up.”

“Really? You can?” Seokjin asks, a little in awe as they enter some sort of underground complex, the roof and pillars bare concrete, the path long and unlit.

“Yeah sure, as long as you don’t go when the trains are about to move it’s safe. Kids go there all the time,” Namjoon says easily.

“Then please do,” Seokjin says with a smile.

Namjoon catches it and returns with a smile of his own.

They pass through the dark section, the spray paint on the walls and the dusty round mirrors. At the other end the space opens up into what must be an old parking lot, the space sprawling and held up by stolid pillars. As far as Seokjin can see though, there are no vehicles about. Instead from here he can hear the soft murmur of chatter, see the shadows stretch long across the flooring.

“Hey guys!” Namjoon calls out to the group of people huddled in a circle, sitting on what looks like torn out car seats, ratty cushions and a threadbare sofa. They turn, dark heads and one bright blonde.

“You,” Min Yoongi says accusingly, his upper lip curling.

“Miss me?” Seokjin says mockingly with a look of triumph at Yoongi’s disapproval. Two can play at this game.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. He turns his attention to Namjoon. “Who said you could bring the tourist here?”

“Be nice hyung,” Namjoon says reproachfully. “Seokjin-ssi wanted to meet you after all.”

Yoongi gives a deep sigh. “Alright tourist. Have it out. What do you want?”

Seokjin puffs up his chest. “Firstly I want you to stop calling me tourist. Secondly I want you to tell me more stories about this town. And thirdly I want you to be my friend.”

Yoongi stares at him, mouth half open, expression flabbergasted. Behind him two boys are keeled over laughing their heads off.

“Did you hear that Tae? He wants to be friends with Yoongi? With Yoongi?!” the first one laughs, gasping for air as he nudges his friend’s shoulder.

The second nods frantically, looking half close to tears. “I know, I thought my ears were finally gone but if you heard it as well then it must be true!”

“He doesn’t really know Yoongi does he?” the first one says between mirthful giggles.

“No he doesn’t. He’s going to bet utterly decimated by hyung!”

“Enough you two,” Yoongi says dryly as he looks over at them disapprovingly. Then he looks back at Seokjin, eyes narrow as he assesses him. “You want to be my friend,” he says, echoing Seokjin’s words. “Why?”

Seokjin shrugs. “You’re interesting enough. You know the town. That’s reason enough for me to ask.”

Yoongi sighs so heavily that it’s like Seokjin has declared he wants to take over a country rather than something as simple as becoming friends.

Laughter spills out from the boy at Yoongi’s side. He has dark hair and dark eyes and he sits so close that it almost looks intimate with how he presses his shoulder right up against Yoongi and how he hooks his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder. He gives Seokjin a curious look and then nudges Yoongi with his chin.

“Hyung, is this the guy you were talking about? The one from the pub?”

Yoongi gives another short sigh – Seokjin is beginning to think this makes up part a large portion of his vocabulary, the variations being the length, tone, and heaviness of it – but answers the boy. “Yeah, this is him.”

The boy’s eyes brighten. He unhooks his chin and stretches out and boy is he surprisingly lanky, taller than he first looked all curled up around Yoongi.

“Hyung says you’re a tourist,” he says so earnestly that all Seokjin can do is wince and not correct him. Yoongi smirks and the kid continues. “He says you know what it’s like out there?”

“Out there?” Seokjin echoes.

Namjoon stomps over and plops himself down on a free torn out car seat. It’s ragged at the ends and the fabric is curling in one corner but as he sits on it and lets out a long sigh of relief makes it seem like the most luxurious plush that money could buy. “He means,” Namjoon says with a cracking yawn, “outside out this town.”

As the only one still standing, Seokjin towers over them all as he looks down with mild surprise. “Have you never been outside of this town?”

The boy with dark hair and dark eyes shakes his head. “Nope, never.”

“Oh,” Seokjin says, a little stunned.

There’s a boy at the far end who’s been pretty quiet up till now.  He’s got black hair that flops over his forehead and eyes that turn into these little crescents when he smiles. He straightens himself up and yawns, long and loud, his mouth settling into this bright little beam as he looks over at Seokjin and pats the space next to him on the sofa. “Come sit down,” he says. “If we’re going to talk you might as well make yourself comfortable.”

“Oh, thanks,” Seokjin says, surprised. He edges his way around the mismatch of chairs and eases himself gingerly onto the other side of the sofa. It’s old and there’s a spring poking into his backside, but other than that it’s comfortable enough.

The boy smiles at him, bright and beautiful. “I’m Hoseok,” he says by way of introduction.

“Seokjin,” Seokjin says in return.

“You know Yoongi and Namjoon,” Hoseok continues. “The one sitting next to Yoongi is Jungkook, our resident baby maknae.”

“I resent that hyung,” Jungkook chips in quickly, but somehow it doesn’t feel all that vengeful with the way he’s curled into Yoongi’s side like a tiny kitten.

Hoseok ignores him as he turns to look at the other two boys, the mischievous ones who were claiming that Seokjin was surely going to die and fine death by Yoongi’s hands. “And those two troublemakers are Jimin and Taehyung,” he says with finish. Each waves in turn, giant grins plastered to their faces.

“So tell us about yourself Seokjin,” Hoseok says as he swings one leg onto the couch so that he can twist his body to look at Seokjin properly. “You mentioned something about coming here for stories?”

“Um yes,” Seokjin says, giving a short cough to clear his throat. He sits a little stiffly, legs together, back straight. He kind of feels like he’s back in his university interview where step 1 is to remember to dress well, step 2, present yourself well, step 3, so tell me in less than three sentences, why do you want to become a-

He’s straying from the point.

“I came here because I heard from someone that this place is famous for its rumors. I’ve heard a few but I guess I wanted to find out if any of them are real.”

He watches the way the six boys exchange glances. He wants to speak up, to question them directly: why the secrecy? why the suspicion?

It’s brown haired Jimin who his lips and leans forwards first. His eyes dance with a sort of exhilaration that Seokjin can’t quite understand. It’s like he’s spilling state secrets, not just the kind of story that middle schoolers whisper to one another as a kind of scare. “We could tell him about the haunted pool-“

“Jimin,” Yoongi cuts him off, eyes flashing.

Jimin ducks his head but Taehyung takes over. “What about the lighthouse story?”

“That one’s a big ambiguous,” Namjoon says as he screws up his face. Seokjin can’t even begin to imagine how that could be so.

“How about the one about the butterfly?” Jungkook suggests and Taehyung brightens up so much that he almost falls over, Jimin catching the sleeve of his shirt at the last minute and yanking him back.

Yoongi’s eyes widen from next to Jungkook, his mouth opening as if to stop him, but then Hoseok intervenes.

“Aw go on, let him,” Hoseok says, shooting Yoongi a wink. Yoongi lets out a sigh and a grumble but doesn’t stop Jungkook from telling the story. Seokjin has a feeling that Yoongi becomes putty whenever Jungkook is concerned.

Jungkook looks almost fit to burst as he speaks. “Have you been the forest to the left of town yet?”

“No,” Seokjin says, shaking his head.

A satisfied smile spreads over Jungkook’ face, the cat has got its cream. “Well okay, there’s a story about that place. They say a long time ago there was this little boy who tried to run away from home. Thing is though, the kid was pretty sickly and being in a forest for so long was no good for his health.”

Seokjin can almost already predict the ending.

“Eventually he collapsed. He knew that if no one found him he was surely going to die, but the thing was he didn’t want to be found, because it’d mean going back to the town.”

“So what happened to him?” Seokjin asks with a softness that the story seems to demand.

“He died,” Jungkook says was a shrug. “He died but they say the forest took pity on him and turned him into a butterfly.”

“Why a butterfly?” Seokjin can’t help but wonder.

“Freedom,” Yoongi says, voice soft as smoke. “A pair of fragile wings for his fragile freedom.”

“Fragile… freedom?” Seokjin can’t help but echo.

“It means,” Namjoon says from across of him, “that the boy may have managed to gain wings to fly with, but they’re butterfly wings. They’re fragile and they won’t take him far. He thinks he’s free but he isn’t really. It’s all just in his mind.”

“Oh,” Seokjin says.

There’s a silence that drapes itself over the group, heavy and dusty and Seokjin can feel the silence so palpable it seals his mouth shut.

“Well, that was actually a pretty sobering story to tell you first,” Namjoon says roughly, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe we should have picked something happier.”

“Like the abandoned pool story!” Taehyung pops up, voice loud and carrying. “See, this is why I should tell the stories.”

“What part about the whisperings of dead ghosts is happy?” Jungkook says dryly, throwing it back into Taehyung’s face.

“But that one’s not sad, it’s cute!”

“Cute?” Jungkook pulls a face at Taehyung.

“Yeah, isn’t it nice that the dead are still here and giving us advice?”

“Hyung they’re giving advice in the pool where they drowned.”

“Yeah, but its advice. That proves they’re nice ghosts and not those kind of ghosts that try to drag you to the other side.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say hyung.”

“I still think the lighthouse story would have been better,” Jimin chips in brightly.

“That’s just as bad,” Yoongi says with a shake of his head. “Now that I think about it are all the stories we have here ghost stories?”

“Not all of them. We have a few nice ones,” Hoseok says lightly. “What about the train story? And the ocean one? And come on, the butterfly story wasn’t all that bad. Sure he never really got to escape but what matters is that he thought he did, and hope, even if it’s not real hope, isn’t that the point of the story?”

Yoongi gives a small laugh. “You always know how to look at the bright side of things Hobi.”

Hoseok winks back at him and flashes him a cheesy thumbs up. “Of course.” 

It’s as Seokjin watches them banter back and forth that the strange feeling surges up again. It’s raised knuckles tapping at the spot right above his heart, a little hummingbird flutter that says, something is wrong.

But nothing is. At least nothing that stands out.

They’re laughing and joking, leaning over from time to time to jab at one another or wriggle in closer. They look like six boys who have been friends for forever and there should be nothing wrong with such a scene. Yet Seokjin’s heart tells him elsewise.

They are a reflection of this town, a town that appears normal and no different than any other on the surface, but somewhere deep, deep within, there is something wrong. And it’s that that Seokjin thinks will become his greatest story.

“Hey guys?” Seokjin leans forwards, his words interrupting the loudness of their chatter. They all pause and turn to him. “I want to ask something of you.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon looks at him, one hand held out encouragingly. “What is it?”

“I was thinking of staying here in this town for a while. And I was wondering if you’d tell me more stories.”

There it is again. The exchange of glances, the downturn of their lips. There is something that they cannot say to an outsider. 

“No,” Yoongi says bluntly. His eyes are narrowed and behind him the sky is dark, dark paint.

“Why?” Seokjin asks. His voice only shakes slightly.

“Because you’re a tourist,” Yoongi says flatly.

“And what’s so wrong with that?” His hands are bunched tightly in his lap, they tremble there. “What’s so wrong with the fact that’s I’m not from here? I may not understand how things work, but I can learn can’t I?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark they melt into the night sky. “It’s not a matter of learning or not. It’s a matter of that you shouldn’t learn at all.” Yoongi stands abruptly and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Jungkook makes a protesting sound but just shifts to let him stand with ease. “If you have any sense you’ll leave as soon as you can and never come back here.”

His footsteps as he leaves are loud and echoing in the boxed in carpark space.

“Hyung…” Jimin calls out plaintively to his retreating back, shifting as if he’s about to get up and go after him. But it’s Jungkook who pulls him down, his hands wrapped around Jimin’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. His eyes watch Yoongi’s retreat. “Let Yoongi-hyung be alone.”

Jimin drops back to his seat but Seokjin can see the reluctance in his eyes. He’s surprised. He would have thought the one to go after Yoongi would have been Jungkook, not Jimin who seems to be attached at the hip to Taehyung.   

It makes Seokjin realize he really does not know their dynamics, their relationships, and that saddens him. it was probably that feeling that sent him travelling all over South Korea in the first place. 

It’s Hoseok who leans over and puts a warm hand to Seokjin’s shoulder. “Don’t let Yoongi-hyung get to you. He’s always like that with strangers. Even to the people who’ve lived here their entire lives. He means well, but,” he gives a sad smile.

“But he doesn’t know how to show it properly,” Namjoon huffs. “Look Seokjin-ssi, we’ll be frank. It’s your choice to stay or not. We can’t force you either way. If you go we’ll hold nothing against you. If you stay we can show you around, tell you the tales if you really want to hear them, but,” and it’s here that his voice deepens, going gravelly and rough, “we’re going to warn you now, there is a cost for staying too long in this town.”

“A cost?” Seokjin peers at him, not understanding at all. “What sort of cost?”

Namjoon shakes his head, the long silver mane flicking back and forth. “We can’t tell you. If we did it would influence your decision.”

Seokjin tilts his head. “Is it a dangerous cost?”

Namjoon averts his eyes. “It… depends on the person.”

Seokjin frowns. That is no answer.

“Hey hyung?” Jungkook cuts in. His eyes are so bright they look like they’re about to spontaneously combust. “If you do stay though, will you tell us stories? About the outside world?”

Seokjin nods dumbly. “Of course,” he manages to say hoarsely. “It’d only be fair.”

Jungkook grins. “It’s a promise.”

Seokjin manages a wan smile. “A promise,” he says in return.

Jungkook leans back into the chair seemingly satisfied but Seokjin feels the exact opposite. There are so many secrets here and he is not privy to any of them for the mere reason that Yoongi uses as an insult to call him – tourist.

Seokjin gets to his feet. “I think I’ll see myself out now,” he says. When he catches Jungkook’s alarmed look he gives him a smile and reassurance. “I’m just tired. I haven’t decided whether I’m staying or leaving yet but I think I need a good night’s rest first. So I’ll be leaving first okay?”

Jungkook gives a hesitant nod.

“Can you find your way back?” Namjoon asks, half rising out of his chair.

Seokjin holds out a hand before he gets up completely and nods. “I think I remember the way,” he says. He’s not too certain but Namjoon looks like his bones have melded into the shape of the chair and he doesn’t want to make Namjoon move for no reason.

Taehyung and Jimin exchange glances. “Why don’t you give us your number,” Taehyung suggests, tugging a phone out of the back of his jeans and dangling it between two fingers. “If you get lost you can message one of us.”

“And if you do stick around, hit us up and we can show you around,” Jimin adds, head bobbing right above Taehyung’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

Seokjin smiles. “Yeah okay.”

They exchange numbers, the six of them, Hoseok already asleep on the arm of the sofa before they finish and so Namjoon fishes out his phone and does the number exchange for him.

It’s almost one in the morning according to his phone by the time he leaves and the sky above is so dark and so scattered with stars it almost looks like artwork in motion, the way they glint and wink. The air is chilly as he steps out and Seokjin makes a mental note to carry a light jacket at night in future.

Future. It sounds like he’s already made up his mind.

To tell the truth Seokjin’s always known he’s bad at listening to other people’s advice. He’s always had a mind of his own since he was little and even when he was wrong, he was right. What made matters worse was that there were few people who ever stood up so bluntly to tell him off.

One such man stands in front of him, his eyes looking down at the flame that ignites and then vanishes seconds apart from each other. There’s a thin cylindrical lighter in his hands and his thumb is positioned right above the button. He pushes down and the fire lights up; he lets go and darkness swims. He stands there like he’s been waiting for Seokjin to leave for the past half an hour.

“Are you heading back to the motel?” Yoongi asks, his gaze unflinching. The fire flickers to life. 

“Yes.”

“Are you going to leave this town?” he then asks in exactly the same tone.

“I haven’t decided that yet,” Seokjin replies in what he hopes is a tone of indifference.

The fire vanishes and Yoongi slips it back into his pocket. “Is that so,” he says, finally looking up and their eyes meet.

“I thought I’d sleep on it,” Seokjin says.

Yoongi snorts. “You’re ridiculously pragmatic for a tourist," he says. 

He steps away from a low wooden fence that seems to mark the edge of the pavement and walks over to where Seokjin stands, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I’ll walk you there,” Yoongi says. It’s not an offer.

Seokjin falls into step behind him.

He has so many questions he wants to ask Yoongi – why are you so mean to me? what do you have against tourists? what is going on with this town? – but he holds his tongue because if he’s learnt anything in the two days that he’s been here for, it’s that tensions snap far too easily here. One minute they’re welcoming enough, the people at the pub, the elderly man at Lily, Namjoon even, then the next they’re wary of him, asking why did he come, how long he plans to say, the unspoken words of when are you leaving hanging in the air.

So deep in his thoughts, it’s Yoongi who speaks up first.

He’s up ahead and so Seokjin can’t see his expression, but his tone speaks volumes. “Seokjin,” he says softly, his voice carrying up high. “Why did you come to this town?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen at the question, at Yoongi's directness. “I came here to find something,” he says honestly.  

Yoongi’s steps slow, allowing Seokjin to match his pace. From here can see the deep frown on Yoongi’s face, the sharp angle of his eyes. “And what is that?” he asks, voice low and rumbling.

“A story,” Seokjin finds himself saying. “I’m looking for a story.”

He says it as nonchalantly as he can, trying to stave off the tremble that threatens in his throat. It’s true, he’s here for a story, but he can’t just tell exactly the reason why. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that it's hard. 

Stories are his life. It’s not like he can tell that to a stranger and expect them to understand.

To most people stories are just well, stories. Something to pass the time, something to amuse themselves. Very rarely has Seokjin ever met someone who is wholly consumed by stories as he is, their every living, breathing moments hungering for something to read, something to hear, something to leave them breathless or sated or on the verge of tears. And to those he has encountered, their meetings are brief, their interactions always lacking something despite their shared desperation to devour and they always part, continuing to search, some in the depths of libraries, others through the internet, and Seokjin throughout the world.

He wonders though if Yoongi who is unlike anyone he has ever met may turn out to be the one person who could actually understand.

Seokjin hears rather than sees the pause in Yoongi’s step. He comes to a halt and gives Seokjin a long, deep stare. “You came all the way to this tiny town for a story?” he says, dumbfounded, and oh, Seokjin realizes with a sharp stab of disappointment that no, Yoongi does not understand. “What are you? A literature student? A journalist? Is this some kind of work of yours?”

“No, it’s more like a… hobby,” Seokjin fishes about for the word. Yoongi gives him a side glance but starts walking again, the soles of his sneakers scraping gravel underneath. “I’ve always liked stories since I was a kid. So I thought I’d travel around a bit and find as many stories as I could.”

“And what? You record them down?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, tapping his phone to his lips. “I run a blog called Travel With Jin. I record all my photos and major stories there. It’s pretty popular, enough to fund my travels. Or well part of it at least.”

Yoongi shoots him a surprised, but dare Seokjin say, impressed look.

“You go that far for these stories huh,” he says. “So what kind of stories are you after? You didn’t seem all that impressed in the train story that Minjae told you. And you were only slightly interested in Jungkook’s butterfly story. So what story exactly are you after?”

“Are you trying to find the fastest way of getting me out of this town?” Seokjin asks with an air of suspicion.

Yoongi pulls a grin, all teeth but no ill intention. “Maybe.”

Seokjin sighs. There’s no gaining the upper hand with Min Yoongi. “I like all kinds of stories, but the ones I document down, the ones I want to remember the most, they’re the stories that move the heart.”

“That move the heart huh,” Yoongi echoes. “That's nice.”

“Nice?” Now Seokjin’s the one echoing him.

“Yeah, nice,” Yoongi says again and that’s it apparently.

Yoongi walks him the entire stretch back to the motel. It’s quieter now, most of the residents home or in bars and restaurants. The few people who are out chatter quietly. Everything about this town is quiet, Seokjin thinks. Quiet and writhing, the darkness lurks somewhere far below. 

They come to a stop in front of the motel and Seokjin stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do. “Um, thank you,” is what he settles on. “For taking me back.”

Yoongi waves it off. “It’s was nothing,” he says, and his voice sounds a little off. The lighter is back in the palm of his hand. He rubs his thumb up and down the body of it, a habitual little act that seems to calm him down. Seokjin peers at him and Yoongi seems to shrink away even more. “I…” he sighs. “I was kind of rude back there. And like Namjoon said, it’s your choice. To stay in this town of ours, or to leave.”

Oh, Seokjin thinks. The walk back was an apology.

Yoongi turns and his ears is tinged the slightest pink. His eyes and the press of his lips however are unchanged. “I still stand by what I say. You should leave before you get in too deep.”

“Too deep into what Yoongi?” Seokjin asks softly though he knows he won’t get an answer out of Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugs and the Clipper lights up. “Too deep into these ‘stories’ of yours.”

“Why?” Seokjin says challengingly. “Because they’re real?”

Yoongi look him straight in the eye. “Do you want them to be real?” he asks seriously.

“I…” Seokjin’s mouth dries. “Yes. Of course,” he says. He doesn’t sound certain and he knows that Yoongi can hear it as well.

It’s just that… he’s been hunting for stories his entire lives. At first it was the books in his local libraries, then it was the ones written online, and then he was out in the world, soaking up as many as he could. The thing is, none of them, none, have ever been real enough. 

Sure there are historical recounts, fictional stories inspired by the truth, autobiographies, the like, but none of these have ever been wholly the truth. There’s a limit to how real you can be when retelling something and hoping to interest a reader. And Seokjin has always had an eye for the extravagance, for where the writer has exaggerated or extended a truth to make the story that little bit more inviting.

He doesn’t blame them. In the end stories have to sell as well. It’s just that therefore Seokjin has never met a story that is wholly true and wholly believable, enough to capture his heart. When the books in the library and the stories online were not good enough to satisfy the cravings of his heart, he had turned his gaze outwards, to the real world. There, he had decided two years back that he would travel and find a story, a real story that could move his heart. 

Was it possible that he had found it already? And if this story did move his heart, then what? Then what would he do next? 

Like Yoongi said, did he really want to hear the story? 

What if it fell beneath his expectations? What if turned out to be a story that he would regret hearing? One perhaps about murderers and psychotic dreams and it would haunt Seokjin for the rest of his life. What if it turned out to be so moving that from thereon Seokjin would never be able to satisfying his reader's craving ever again? 

But at the same time, to have it so tantalizingly close and to just turn away? Seokjin couldn’t do that either.

Yoongi sighs. “Go sleep on it,” he says. “And then think good and hard about your choice. Leave and you may never find your story and you’ll probably regret it for the rest of your life but it might be the better choice, better than staying here at any rate." 

“Yoongi,” Seokjin croaks, his throat dry and constrictive. “What is the cost for staying?”

Yoongi turns, looks him straight in the eye. Seokjin doesn't really think Yoongi will answer him seriously but he should have known better. So far, Yoongi has not half-assed any of his answers. “Hope,” he says quietly. The word strikes Seokjin like a missile. Impact, explosion, shrapnel. 

“What does that mean?' Seokjin whispers, feeling shattered. 

Yoongi ruffles his head with one hand, his expression hassled. “It means what it means," he says with a shrug. "I've said enough to a tourist. You asked a question, I answered. Hope will be your cost if you stay." 

“But-“

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head, cutting him off. “I’ve told you enough. Go sleep and make up your mind in the morning. If you leave by the end of this week you should still be able to escape.”

“And if I don’t?” Seokjin calls out to Yoongi’s turned back. “If I choose to stay?”

Yoongi looks over his shoulder, his eyes glowering and dark as coal. “Then don’t blame us when things start turning to ,” he says and stalks off. "Goodnight Seokjin," he says softly, his hand waving as he walks into the darkness, the blonde of his hair the last thing to be swallowed by the gloom. 

Seokjin returns to the quiet motel and its smell of flowers that swamps his room. He undresses and brushes his teeth, falls into bed with his mind strangely at peace despite how emotionally wrung out he felt moments earlier. It’s only belatedly as he starts drifting off to sleep that he realizes amongst all the things that has happened today, the one thing that stands out now is that this is the first time that Yoongi has called him by his name. 

Strangely, he likes it. Really, really likes it. And just like that, he thinks he's made his decision.