He spent a long time staring at that picture and smiling. Caught up in the sea salt of a memory and a dozen letters written to a ship’s captain he only met once. He could feel the ocean in his hands as he reached for the other contents of that envelope.

It was a wedding invitation.

Hand written by his mother, in the gorgeous cursive she reserved for special occasions. Some people had, no doubt, gotten much fancier embossed invitations with flowers attached and all of the fan faire associated with these kinds of events but his was just a simple card. The attached letter plastered a smile across his face.

Hey Bro.

So Jimin and I have decided to make it official… The wedding thing, not the the relationship thing.

All  Yoongi could think was ‘freaking finally’ because good grief it had been years. Marriage wasn't such a big deal; soul mates were usually just assumed to be married right out the gate. But weddings...those were in a completely separate category. Weddings were immense, massive, glorious, full of vaguely obnoxious traditions and loud parties. They were celebrations. Guests came from everywhere. All corners of the world. They took years to coordinate so the mint haired mailman was surprised to find that the note continued with:

The thing is; we don't know when you're coming home, but also, there is no way I'm getting married without you. You're my big brother and I want you to be there.. So try to be home as soon as you get this. We can only hold our guests hostage for so long. Heechul says most people can make it from YG in half a year. I don't know what that means for you.

I kind of want an autumn wedding...just saying.

And the handwriting shifted to Jimin for:

Also, congratulations loser; we sent a copy of this to all of the big hubs and you just had to be at YG didn't you?

-Sunshine and Hobi

P.s. If you can send us an RSVP it would be appreciated.

Since you’re at YG.

You jerk.

“My brother is getting married,” the mint haired mail courier explained to the curious faces on the other side of his letter.

“Hoseok is the middle one right?” Dae inquired.

Yoongi nodded with a smile, “Yup. I need to write a contract for my RSVP.”

The two men looked at each other and wrinkled their noses. The fatal flaw in that p.s. Hobi had written was that Yoongi could get home faster than his letter could. The all too obvious solution was to deliver his own RSVP.

“I'm going to write it and take it,” he explained.

“Ah?” Dae tried to act sure but came off confused.

“If he writes a contract for it the kids and JYP will know he's coming so they can start heading for Heenim’s too,” Ji whispered loudly.

And Yoongi was certainly willing to bet that everyone was gathered at the Port. Jimin had spent three weeks living with the crew of the Got SevInn while he waited for someone brave enough to take his contract. Chansung has been the one to oblige...mostly because Yoongi himself had written the buff courier and asked a personal favor because he didn't want to have to pay Jaebum. The sneaky innkeeper had just been making Jimin work for his stay but that was beside the point.

The crew of the Boys Republic had no doubt brought Jiminie’s family from overseas with them. So basically everyone should be in JYP by then. And ready to head up the river on the MarkSon boat or on caravans to Heechul's.

Then the flaming red dragon asked “that's where that was going right?”

“Yup. The contract notification will get to JYP a week or two ahead of me,” he said, “I'm taking the long way home. But once I get past the port it's easy.”

He was giving the pedestrians a head start.

The honey blonde fished out a pen and a blank single letter contract for Yoongi. Who proceeded to fill out, sign and thumb print it.

“Can you get it out tomorrow on first wave?” The youngest asked.

“Rush order it is,” Jiyong winked.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked absently, reaching for the side of his loose leather pack that had his money in it.

“If you're headed that way anyway, I need a couple of things delivered to Heechul, if you could take them you wouldn't owe me anything,” JiYong offered. It was very likely that he wouldn't have owed them anything anyway. His lifestyle was doubly weird in that people often showed their appreciation for his apparent self sacrifice by not making him pay for things.

Not that he was complaining.

“It'll take them awhile to get there,” Yoongi informed. “That's a four and a half month trek without any detours.”

“How do you make that in four months without a horse?” Daesung balked.

“You of all people should know that it's a trade secret,” the dragon hissed at his lover.

“Follow the river,” Yoongi shrugged, “and I will, as long as you tell me what’s in them. I'm not into shady deals.” Not that he expected anything shady but the point stood.

He slid a lock box out from under the counter and popped it open, apparently the lock was just for decoration. “I have a personal letter,” he offered, setting a particularly well stuffed, incredibly fat pale green envelope down, “An efficiency report for all of the guys that base in the area and some revised route productivity reports. It's nothing fancy, I just don't want it to get lost.”

Yoongi nodded in recognition. It was boring industry stuff but routes and reports were sacred and for commissioners only. It was not the first time he'd carried something like that from one station to the next along his way. Since there was no time off for a big conference in person they did what mail people do, mailed things to each other.

Daesung finally noticed the dirty saddle bags on the counter. “Ah,” he sighed, “I thought we were done for the night.”

“It's only eighty,” Yoongi shrugged

“Only eighty,” the honey blonde snarked, “Like sorting that into several hundred thousand bins won't take me awhile.”

“Dae, it'll take you ten minutes,” Ji laughed, “You know exactly who it's from and where it's going.”

“Do I?” Daesung asked, “Do I really?”

“It's from Block B,” so named because that was their mail block there in the hub, “I'll take the ones for Mino,” Yoongi insisted as the older man began rifling through the contents of the muddy bags, “I'm headed that way anyway. I'll even pay for them.”

“See Dae,” The eldest said, “He even tries to make your life easier. Remember, we like Yoongi.”

Yoongi waved and bowed and said his goodbyes to the loving chatter of a play argument. Part of him wanted that for himself and part of him was too busy thinking about how fun the walk home would be. The honeysuckle would be in bloom down in the forest and the jungle with be full to bursting with all of the sweet smells of life and love and wonder. The mint haired man could taste the memory of sweat and thick dirt on his lips and his toes curled at the thought of soft, sun soaked, rain drenched ground.

Something like magic dripped out of his mouth when he sighed out the buzzing excitement that had gathered in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly his exhaustion had eased away and adventure replaced it...like it always did.

The boards creaked under his weight as he came upon the rickety front steps of The Big Bang Inn. That old place was always a welcome sight.

The door rang out loud and creaking like everything else in the frozen north did and brought him back wide eyed to the first time he’d come upon it. His hair had been grown out to his shoulders and he'd lost nearly ten pounds of weight coming off that high pass. Wholly unprepared was a vast underestimation of his first experience coming to YG. Taehyun: with his shaggy middle part and his sassy eyes had rushed to the door and taken the skinny couriers mail bag.

“Good heavens,” the other man had muttered under his breath in a voice of rich honey and dark ocean, “you look like death.”

“Nah,” Yoongi said back with a breathless smile , “ just a really long walk.”

The innkeeper had scrunched his nose and given a sour look, ushering Yoongi in farther. “Bring the sad little horse dog too,” he'd hissed, “you both need cleaned and fed.” 

Only Taehyung could manage to look put upon when he volunteered to take care of someone. He'd stayed a whole week, resting and sorting out where to go next. 

“No dogs inside,” an unfamiliar and particularly nervous voice called over to him as he wandered in. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes in this new comers direction as he slid behind the old mahogany counter with Vern padding softly behind him, “You must be new here,” was all the contract-less mailman offered.

“Hey...y-you aren't supposed to be back there,” the nervous one stuttered. His greasy brown hair was parted down the middle but Yoongi forgave him for that because his eyes were kind.

The courier paid no mind. He just grabbed his usual basket of clean clothes from under the counter. He paid several inn keepers in the mail hubs he visited to keep small baskets of clothes and soap and such for him stashed away. This wasn't one of the ones he paid for but it was one of the ones he had. The North had always been kind to him. Ever since the first time he had rolled in muddy and wild from a trip he had in no way been prepared for.

“Twenty Two just had the tub replaced” Mino, Taehyun’s softer, sweeter sidekick and soulmate offered in his dark, rich voice. The tan man with his jet black hair didn't even bother to look up from his sketchbook. “It's got hot water too. You smell like you could use a good bath. Vern too.”

The mint haired mail man signed his name on twenty two and grabbed the key off its peg. “Thanks Mino. He needs a shave too. We're headed back to the coast.”

“Clippers are in the basket,” he droned “TaeHyun changes the laundry basins after first wave still. I'll have him hold one for you.”

“You're a Goddess sent blessing Mino,” Yoongi bantered, “But I'll be leaving before first wave.”

That's when he finally looked up with a smile curling up the corners of his soft eyes, “You, up before first wave?”

“My brother's getting married. It's a long walk home.”

Mino snorted as he stood up and offered a sincere, “Congratulations man. The kid you sent him?”

“Jimin.”

“If you leave your stuff we’ll wash it for you for next time,” the other suggested,

Yoongi started to make his way towards the rooms when his name was called out the tan inn keeper offered “If you're headed for the river I have a letter for my mom…”

“You just said my name for the look on his face didn't you?” Yoongi observed, patting Vern as he leaned against the counter.

Mino looked up again, smiling his big dopey, sheepdog-esque smile, “Pretty much. But I really do have a letter for my mom. I'll trade it for your stay.” That was a vastly generous offer. But Mino was always vasty generous. Yoongi had never paid for a full night's stay there.

“Bobby,” Mino informed, “The one with the dumbstruck look on his face is Bobby. You’re an icon of his.”

“H-hi,” Bobby waved, “so question….I thought that was a myth,” Bobby interjected. “You literally mailed a person?”

“A lot of the stories are made up,” Mino so graciously explained, “But that one is actually true.”

The mint haired mailman shrugged, “He was under contract.”

After a lulling pause where looks were exchanged, “That's SO COOL,” was shouted and promptly shushed by both of the other lobby patrons.

He waved his goodbye in the form of a “Come on Vern, Mino says you smell like a journey.”

Smelling like dirt and tree sap was kind of inherent to the job in his case. He spent a lot of time trudging through wilderness so obviously he acquired its fragrance

It didn't bother Yoongi much anymore but it did tend to upset the more snobbish city dwellers. One of many reasons he didn't spend as much time as he could have in The Port of JYP. 

The bath was glorious as baths tended to be. He was fond of fizzing bath soaps and the hiss of hot water through pipes. Watching the water turn from clear to dark muddy brown was always fun. In fact the mint haired man had made a routine of rinsing off before bathing because he was often three shades darker just from dirt. 

Oh it was funny how things changed; when he was young he'd prided himself on being the cleanest person in his home. Now he prided himself on being...not covered in mud so thick it made his skin look cracked?

Yoongi really had meant to shave Vern all the way down but the look on that dog’s face when he pulled the clippers out was so sad. Almost forlorn. —It was fine. It just meant he stayed up way too late brushing and cleaning and brushing again. Poor ragged creature. The bathroom was completely brown and splattered by the time they were both done and ready to crawl into bed.

He'd determined long ago that he would never be used to beds. Not the fluffy pillowy kind. His favorite bed was a cold glass case and before traveling he'd never slept on a plush bed. He slept on a bed roll on the floor with his brothers when he wasn't on the Heart. So it was the  creak in his bones that woke him up long before the ruckus of everyone preparing for first wave would have and he packed quietly in the dark, breathing in snappy winter air as he headed for the desk.

Seunghoon and Jinwoo were the morning shift. One of the strangest pairs that Yoongi had ever come across because they didn't seem to match. The lion boy with his dark fluffy hair and his smiling eyes looked tired as he pouted at Yoongi for not staying longer. He'd even bothered to kick his feet off the counter and come hug Vern. 

The aforementioned sheepdog was not impressed by the hugging  but took his slobbering and his full body wiggles where he could get them. Seunghoon was on the floor writhing before anyone could warn him that Vermillion was going to pin him and love him until someone gave a release command. Or that Yoongi was not prone to giving that release command readily. 

The other, much smaller, pink haired boy with his narrow jawline bent over the counter and a sparkling twinkle of sappy love oozed from his enormous doe eyes. 

“So how long’s the trip?” The usually quiet, very soft spoken Jinwoo asked. 

“Couple months,” Yoongi shrugged. “I haven't actually gone home since I left or ever gone straight through to Heechul's from here.”

The other man made a noise that could only be described as purring. Recognition sparked across his pretty face, “It’s okay to not go home often,” he said. 

It seemed like a surprising amount of deep thought had gone into that response and it tugged on a heart string that Yoongi didn’t know he had. There was a story there that the mint haired mailman hoped he would hear someday. 

After a good, solid pause the pink haired man asked if the mailman was going to free his companion from the devious clutches of an enthusiastic sheepdog. 

“That’s enough Vermillion,” Yoongi said and his enormous baby dog rose from the floor, shook off loudly and settled. 

Seunghoon was more slobber than human. Vern looked as immensely satisfied as a sheepdog could. 

The mint haired mailman got warm hugs from both of them and well wishes for his brother.

“Don't be a stranger,” Jinwoo's shockingly sweet voice followed the mint haired mailman out the door. Yoongi felt an odd new kinship with the smaller man suddenly and promised to be back soon-ish. 

He took the route he knew the best. Walked with his face to the sky that day. Calloused fingers passed through notches in oddly solid wood and danced over bent weeds. The mint-haired mailman and his fluffy sidekick marched off the road with wanderers confidence; waving goodbye to the lonely caravan that was out early. It would be a lonely road to the coast with just four people and two horses. He hoped they would make it all right and wished them well as he wandered deep into the pines.

Yoongi didn't like roads.

They were safe, for sure, but they were rarely wild. In fact they often lead solidly away from the wild things that Yoongi adored. 

 The winding wildlife trails in thick pine forests lead him through familiar groves with fruit that tasted like paradise when they were in bloom. Onward to the places where gnarled bark that felt like family beneath the pads of his calloused fingers. Grooves that bucks had itched into them with angry new horns were finally healing. 

The mailman imagined for himself a life where he could wander like this in the crispness of early air everyday...but then remembered how bad he was at waking up that early and settled for the thought of perpetual late mornings when the bugs are out buzzing around in the grass and the sun blazes down, but not too harshly. Just enough to soak him in gentle warmth.

Air was snappy and cold that morning. Pressing like needles in the shade but Yoongi moved through the dormant underbrush with ease. Determined to get to one of his most precious places. It was high up the mountain, where oxygen was thin and the weeds grew thinner on the rocks. His lungs burned and his pace slowed just a touch as he breached the crest of one last ridge and looked down from his rocky ledge into the valley.

Dead ivy crawled the rocks and foliage. At the middle that same empty oak tree stood still in the breeze. Sat waiting for him like an old friend. There was nothing particularly exemplary about it except that it had managed not to rot out even though it was left a burnt skeleton charred by old fire.

A lightning strike had probably been its demise

“Lay low,” Yoongi told Vermillion. His voice, no matter how soft, shook off the walls of that ravine but the sheepdog paid no mind. He'd immediately made a home in the dirt as his master shrugged off everything that was weighing them both down and slid his hands into familiar rocky hand holds on the side of the ledge.

The way down was steep but smooth. Not many bumps or curves. And the young courier had memorized each groove. Surprisingly this was some of the lighter rock climbing the mint haired mailman did. In part because he didn't have to strap a gigantic dog to him or haul a forty pound mailbag.

If it hadn't been so cold out Yoongi probably would have taken his shoes off too. He loved feeling the rocks and the ground beneath him. But a taste of that ever present pulse of life was not worth his feet. Freedom and adventure being his livelihood; he didn't really want to risk it. He settled for the faded echo of lifeblood running through his memory.

There was a little metal box he'd hidden in that charred oak tree. Full of pictures and some letters he written but felt were too personal to send. Trinkets that were too precious to give away but too burdensome to carry. Glass beads from far off places, rocks, pressed leaves, poems, letters about adventures he wanted to keep for himself. Some extended rants about beauty in this world he loved and lived in. 

Bless his family they didn't seem to understand how much he loved adventuring. Every other piece of mail he got from them started with “Yoongi we wish you would come home,” or “Yoongi we hope you visit soon.” Geeze, he could see the looping curl of his mom's handwriting just thinking about it.

The first time he’s found that ravine and claimed the tree for his own it had been completely by accident. Not the happy kind of accident either; the kind where he had woken up to the distinct feeling of a nearby danger, packed up in a hurry and raced off with Vern. Mountain lions had territory in that area, he'd met a few at an unsafe distance but none quite so unsafe as the dauntingly powerful female he'd encountered there on the cliffside. He could still feel her golden eyes fixed on him if he thought about it too hard.

The mint haired mail man named her Chaelin. Queen of the high road. She'd tracked him for three days, deep into the forest where bigger, scarier things lived. Yoongi wasn't sure why the creature had turned back but he was grateful. And that was when he decided to burry his trinkets instead of carrying them. 

It wasn't much but it gave him peace to feel lighter

Yoongi was there that day to drop off a pocket full of things. Chief among them a little wooden toy that Seunghyun had given him. It was carved in the shape of a jungle bird, the kind that talk back. Its hooked beak could be placed on just about any surface and it would balance perfectly. The scruffy older man had passed it over when they'd run into each other that morning in the street. With a cigarette burning between his teeth the blue haired furniture maker had said, “Here, Mino says you like these.”

It was probably the weirdest, kindest thing that cranky chain smoker had ever done for the mint haired mailman. Not that that took much. Mail people have very little use for furniture so the two of them didn't exactly interact on a regular basis..

With a quirk of a smile that twitched on the corner of his lips he rested the red carved parrot on a bed of unsent letters. He dropped a few silver shards and some green glass he’s found on the high road too before he closed it. 

He was back up the cliff and on his way without much hesitation. Hoping the parrot would be there if ever he came back for it. 

The journey felt...still...and light .Without a contract and even despite its hardships the young mailman had seemingly all of the time in the world to get to The Heart. Meandering along forgotten cart trails and ancient roads that lead to nowhere but old ruins. Whole towns blanketed with weeds. He wondered what they'd been like when they were full of human life. What kind of people had lived there? Especially since each one was different. It was something he thought about often on his walks. And talked to the ground about. 

“You'd tell me the story wouldn't you?” Was something he often directed at Vern. 

Every so often his feet lead him into old barns or crossed his path with dilapidated sign posts. Some written in languages he didn't know; some in letters he did know with words he didn't. Very rarely he stumbled across them in languages he did. 

The mint haired man spent two whole days in the one called “The Gateway.” With the small wooden arch on the edge of the pines. 

That space between two great jungles was like the breadth between a greats bird’s wings. There weren't any trees on the Steppe; it was by definition all grassland and plateaus. Always a welcome change of pace. He could see for miles without end. Yoongi could taste the ocean before him and the forest behind him and even deft hints of the jungle he longed for. 

The days grew longer and the air grew warmer. 

Inevitably he met the pave again at the high road entrance to the Port of JYP. Walked along it looking like a muddy mountain man to the stares and passersby on their clopping horses or in their jingling wagons. He kept his head down, green hair facing the way ahead, but smiled every time he heard an audible gasp or a “is that?” over the cacophony of dissonance. Everything made more noise on the dirt pack so it was moderately impressive when he could hear a person over the rattles of hooves and metal. 

He made it to the city center in time for last wave. Contracts were being called and rowdy humans banged and screamed over each other. 

Poor Yoongi tried to sit at the back on one of the rusty metal chairs only to be called out by the commissioner at the end of the high risk batches. Not for a contracted but for “All hail Yoongi the greenie who has my city running at half capacity. Do you know how hard it is when half the place leaves?” 

Jinyoung must've caught a glimpse through the sea of bodies. Speaking of, the crowd stilled and parted ways with curious glances all around. 

Yoongi walked up to the counter with the snotty sort of arrogance that pug nosed commissioner always expected of him and learned over the counter. “Hey Jinyoung,” he winked, “what am I in for today?” 

The black haired man did that weird shifty eyebrow thing he did and reached under the counter. “Sign for the second leg,” he demanded.

FOR TURN IN AT HEECHUL’S was listed on the top in ink so bold and black it was fuzzy on the edges, trying to spill into the grain of the paper. Yoongi didn't even read it, which was not a habit of his, by the way. Despite the constant and persistent rumors that he was illiterate and never read his contracts.

 He just knew what that one said; he'd written it, so he signed at the bottom and took off the glove he was wearing to provide his thumb print.

As he was pulling his finger away Jinyoung cleared his throat the corner of a thinly  stuffed envelop came out from under his contract. 

“Do you need some water?” The mint haired man asked.

“JB left this for you,” the older man coughed out and continued to clear his throat.

Ah. Yoongi immediately grabbed it and stuffed it in his pocket roughly. 

As they shook hands in parting the little mail carrier made sure to smear his inky thumb all over JYP’s grimy hands. 

“Get some good rest before you head out,” the elder winked, “May you dream of being as great as me one day.” 

Yoongi just sighed and shook his head. 

This particular way of ending a conversation was a story all on its own. There was no long story short but it involved a very drunken night at Got SevInn and had something to do with a potato carved in the shape of a cat. All of them were reasons Yoongi didn’t frequent The Port as often as he could and was not likely to ever settle down there. Ever. 

EVER.

The envelope had a key to JB and Jinyoung(not that Jinyoung the other one)’s private suite that was attached to the Inn they ran. There was a note that said “you deserve a good night's sleep. See you at Heenim and Hangeng’s.” 

Yoongi didn't know either man well enough to be able to tell their handwriting apart but he assumed it was Jinyoung’s because that dimpled dork was always reading or writing something. Maybe they had known each other and been together so long there wasn't much difference. They'd known they were soulmates since they were toddlers so inevitably the two  had spent a whole lot of time with one another. 
 

Despite the cushy accommodations the mint haired man didn't sleep in a bed, but rather, on the cellar floor with his side against cool stone. Ear pressed to the floor listening for echoes and whispers. Sometimes he felt like the ground was telling him stories rather than just pulsing with a heartbeat. It made echoes and gentle shifts and lulled him to sleep in the cool quiet of a cave.

( Hey humans! I am so terribly sorry for the wonky formatting my computer is in the shop so I wrote this on my phone in Google docs. I promise I will fix it when I get my computer back. I love you all. Thanks in advance for reading. Pretty please leave a comment; they make me a better writer!)