THE LAKE

The farther into town he got the more astounded he was. There were so many faces. People he did recognize. People he didn’t. It seemed like everything must be at capacity because the shear number of people was unbelievable.  The Lake hub wasn’t built to hold this much strain, everything was bursting the seams.

Yoongi was perhaps looking for specific humans though. Which was difficult given his height.

Finally in the crowded square Yoongi caught sight of Youngjae from GOT SevInn, who had apparently shoved his way to the front. The dog breeder was smiling so brightly that the sun had nothing on him and  waving at the mailman  enthusiastically and screaming for...Vern. Of course. Yoongi wasn’t even sure why he was surprised. No one loved Vern more than Yoongi but Youngjae was a close second.

“Can I clean him up for you?” Youngjae asked as he bounced in for a hug.

Yoongi sighed relaxing into a much softer embrace than the one Heechul had offered, “That would be great if you really want to. He’s kind of gross from the trip.”

The black haired man didn’t even respond to that just pulled away and nodded vigorously. So Yoongi pulled Vern’s saddle bag off and threw it over his right shoulder. Then leaned down, letting his shoes scrape in the dirt, for a big slobbery wet sheepdog .

“Go with your Uncle,” The mint haired mailman told his companion, pressing their foreheads together.. “Be a good boy.”

He felt kind of as he watched them go. Vern only looked back over his fluffy twice as the surrounding people filled the void and swallowed the blue and white  creature in their masses. Being without his dog was like being without part of himself. They slept together, talked to each other, hunted, carried mail, adventures, faced peril. They even bathed together most of the time. That dog was his life even more so than mail was. He tried to ignore the pulling in his heart and  wander farther into the square with Heenim when the gentle commissioner gave a sympathetic tug on his favorite ex-trainee’s wrist but people kept stopping him but...hitting him in the shoulder?

Yoongi was fairly certain that his shoulder was just one giant bruise after the beating it took from strangers greeting him as he walked through town. His passing into myth whilst still alive  and very much young had facilitated some really weird superstitions about him. The latest one was apparently touching his left shoulder, the one he’d broken when as a teenager, could give a person good luck.

Entirely untrue.

Literal most untrue thing he’d heard floating around in the rumor mill and that's saying something.  This was the first time he’d heard about about it and he sincerely hoped it was the last because he needed his body strong.

Heechul intervened.

The sassy commissioner ducked them both into his own house under the guise of resting and washing up for the long day that tomorrow was to be.

On the list of things that never changed...that house was first and foremost. It was built solid, made of brick with hardwood flooring. Unlike most of the surrounding structures it's windows were glass and shuttered with beautifully painted slats. There were no cracked wooden boards for walls that let the air pass through. The door came open with ease and Yoongi stepped into the cool living room filled with plush furniture. There was a white rug in the middle of the floor that felt like the softest dog to ever live. The mint haired mailman remember what it felt like laying on his stomach studying out of handbooks and learning contract law.

There was no Hangeng sitting on the high backed  couch reading a book. That was odd.

“Where’s your other half?” Yoongi asked.

“He headed for The Heart to get all of the vendors organized for your grand entrance tomorrow,” Heechul offered. “We figured since you were being sneaky we would do the same.”

“They’re going to get everything set up tonight so we can get this two town party started already,” the older man explained, patting his younger friend’s back gingerly. “Come on you look hungry. You shower while I cook.”

Nearly starved actually. Not close to death, but ravenous. Yoongi hadn't had a decent meal in days. The trek between lakes was always a game of scavenging for scraps. It was over hunted by the sheer number of people that used it. He'd been living on roasted frog and whatever birds Vern managed to catch without ripping them open before they got to him.

Washing up was faster than he anticipated. The showering portion anyway.

He took a good long look and almost didn’t recognize himself in the mirror when he came out. His skin had gotten darker and his weight loss was apparent in his face, the hollowness of his cheeks and the sudden sharpness of his jawline almost alarmed him. But then again, thus had been his life for the last...what? Four? Four and a half years?  On his abdomen there were muscles defined and visible when they hadn’t been before. He felt oddly small despite it.

Clippers and a pair of scissors were sitting in a basket beside a very clean smelling, neatly folded, t-shirt and denim pants.

The mint haired mail man tried to make quick work of shaving his sides and t the fluffy length of his hair but he was quite picky about it. Yoongi had gotten good at cutting his own hair actually; since he was rarely in town when the barbers open. He often had to hack away at it in the jungle to keep himself cool. It was easier with a mirror and sharp tools rather than a rusty old blade and just his finger to feel out the length.

He managed to remember to grab Jiyong’s reports and his own RSVP on his way to the kitchen after he’d finished brushing his teeth and dressed himself. There was a towel draped around his shoulders so the drips from his freshly cut hair wouldn’t land on his dark blue shirt.

The house smelled like beef and garlic but it was light rather than being stomach knottingley heavy. Which was a blessing and a half because going straight for real food after what he’d been living on was a terrible idea. It would make him so sick so quickly.

“For you,” he offered, slapping the paper down on a stone countertop.

Heechul sorted through it idly as commissioners do and handed the RSVP back. “You’ll be delivering this yourself sir.”

“I’ve never had a violation so make sure you write it off,” Yoongi replied.

“Sir yes sir,” the pink haired man laughed.

And then Heechul dropped a bowl down on the solid counter so hard that the almost gelatinous contents tried to slosh but ended up wiggling instead. “Beef stew for lunch. I don’t think I have to tell you not to eat too much but I’m going to tell you anyway,” The older main  said.

When lunch, dinner, and second dinner had all been eaten several hours apart Yoongi found himself nodding off at the old pine table in the kitchen trying to read some fan mail that Heechul had brought in to occupy his suddenly empty time. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, it was that he was exhausted. He’d been running on empty for days so he retired to his shed in the backyard. They kept a cot in it for him because he didn’t like sleeping in climate controlled houses or Inns if he didn’t need to. Yoongi liked to feel the air, sticky or hot, or cold, however it was. Chilled from the breeze of early autumn but thick with mist off the lake.

He slept like a king that night with a full belly, snuggled up next to the fluffiest version of his dog he had ever seen. Youngjae had sheepishly explained that the Vern’s hair was so long that he felt bad cutting it so he spent four hours dematting and deep conditioning it. Four hours. That man was dedicated to his craft and Vern looked more like a marshmellow than a dog

First wave rang out loud in the air and in Yoongi’s heart as he rolled out of bed late, like always. Almost slammed his perfect hair into a rusty shovel. It was tradition at that point to wake up to the gong not the ruckus made by human bodies or the smell of fresh baked bread. It was rare that he ever even bothered to get out of bed at that hour. No one forced him to on the road and he never took anything from first wave when he was in town but that day was different.

He had a route to catch.

So he stumbled through packing his scant belongings and saddling his incredible fluff dog with bags. Roughly Eighty percent of the poof just...flattened.

The mint haired mail man sprinted to the square without a moment to spare and took a position at the back of the pack as route were called out. Heechul got to route eighteen in what seemed like record time and announced that it was up for grabs. The pink haired man gave that route to no one. He’d been running it for sixteen years. Every day for sixteen years. But there it was being held up in the air on an autumn morning.

“Last contract of the day!” Heechul shouted loud and clear in the breeze, “No Risks or second waves today ladies and gents.”

The crowd parted ways, seemingly like it had in the past, but it was eerily different. The usual noise of the square was nowhere to be found. The chatter and the gasping that followed him was shockingly absent. A host of smiling faces peered at him as he walked forward and raised his hand high into the air.

“I'll take it,” Yoongi called.

“Any objections or better offers?” Heechul asked.

There was a resonant “pffft,” that was explained by a gracious Hangeng who had returned from his trip apparently, “Sweetheart not even you could get there faster than Yoongi.”

“Route eighteen to The Heart,” the commissioner called, “To the finest mailman I ever trained. Come and get your contract Yoongi! You're going home!”

Never in Yoongi’s somewhat short career had he been so excited to stick his finger in cold wet ink and roll it across rough, grainy paper. The mint haired courier felt like maybe he should have savored the moment but it was gone as quickly as it began and before he knew it the majority of the town was loading up and preparing for travel...or battle. They kind of seemed like they were preparing for war the way they geared up for the walk. It wasn’t that far and it wasn’t that cold.

The caravan followed behind him. Everyone loaded up. The accompanying mail people grabbed bags and packed up the mail carriage; this route was always full and far too much for Yoongi to take on his own without a horse and wagon.

He walked out ahead with his noisy dog. Let the gravel of a well worn road crunch beneath his feet.  The walk to town probably would have been the longest short journey of his life filled with a loud sky as the sun peaked over the horizon. But the men behind him started laughing and elbowing each other and playfully insinuating that the mint haired mailman didn’t live up to his hype because he was only going to arrive ten seconds before the rest of them.

So naturally he dove off the road into the forest even though he had never delivered anything there and didn’t know any short cuts. All he knew was that the road wound to the west instead being a straight shot and if he kept his feet on on the ground he could follow the pulse of The Heart through to the gate. Vern followed closely like he did in new places and the warmth of the trees smelled like sticky sap and jasmine. There was an aspen grove that Yoongi swore he’d come back to. He ran his fingertips against the chalky white and reveled in the snap of twigs beneath him. No one had come this way in a long time, if ever.

The forest thinned into a grassy meadow and his home was built there, on top of a hill. That walk cut twenty minutes off his time. So as he came to stand before the gate he slid his backpack off his shoulders ,took of his shoes and  sat in the dirt on the road. Just like he did in all of his new places. Sighing out the mist of quiet morning he leaned against the brick that surrounded The Heart and looked to the clear sky. The sun had risen but warmth hadn’t radiated to the surface just yet. He could have run the bell or opened the gate on his own but instead he just sat there, picking leaves and twigs from his hair and running his fingers over short cropped grass. Enjoying all that life had to offer on a clear morning in autumn.

The caravan noise came rattling and riotous to his peaceful break. Chansung with toddler Sanduel up on his shoulders looked genuinely surprised to spot the mint haired man sitting in peace. As he was the first to crest the hill the black haired man was the first to call out, “Yoongi beat us here.” Apparently this had turned into a little bit of a mail person race.

“Really, what did you expect?” was Amber’s reply. The quirky smile on her face as she raced up and offered Yoongi a hand up made his heart swell.

A soft, feminine hand was raised in the crowed “How did you do that? One of the little baby trainees asked.

“Yah,” Amber hushed, “Haebin you can’t just ask for trade secrets like that.”

“Haebin?” her name rang in his memory and he offered, “I’m glad you made in time for training after all.”The young honey blonde woman with with her long hair twisted in a braid clearly had not expected him to remember that one time they met at Jellyfish because her blush was apparent.

“The road curves to the left around a dried up old creek,” Yoongi shrugged, “I cut through.” It wasn’t really that impressive but it was a lot dangerous. He very easily could have gotten lost or turned around but he never did. He trusted his feet and the hum of life blood beneath them.

At least eight people asked him if he was going to put his shoes on in the time it took for the wagons to catch up and then they were on their way again.

The slow crawl through town, dropping mail off in bins and buckets and boxes was oddly relaxing. Gardens he knew were changing colors with the season  and old flagstones that his feet remembered seemed strangely smooth.  

Town was dressed to the nines too. Wreaths and bright green garland looped the fences. White flowers were everywhere. The great archway at the second gate had been decorated with every flower that grew in the area  and the town square had bright jewel toned chairs lining it. There were tents put up and old stages had been rebuilt. It looked more like a festival than a wedding and maybe it was.

He flew under the radar strangely well for a small green haired legend. The townspeople either didn’t notice him or just said hello and smiled as they waved him on. Some of them joined the back of the caravan, and by the time they reached the end of his street, his house, the last house on the route it was beginning to look like a proper wedding march with people dressed bright gleaming color. Yoongi made sure that all of the noise died and the cart stopped a little short. He wanted to be as much a surprise as he could manage to be.

It was Jungkook who had taken his mail collecting duties. Yoongi recognized his hunched form instantly. Bent over the same old four foot tall white picket fence that he had often leaned over on mail days. Just the crown of head head was visible, that mop of muddy brown hair was a sight for sore eyes.

The mint haired mail man grabbed his last two bags from the back of the wagon and  gave the string of one to his massive furball companion. As he slid his feet up a familiar walkway he sighed through a fog of memories that assaulted him. Childhood, running through the garden, sword fights with branches off the old oak tree. Everything seemed so different.

Vern came right along side him making a racket as he swayed. Sheepdog noise eased the sudden pit in the mail couriers heart. He never longed for home but he often longed for his family and there was his precious younger brother standing there looking tired and completely unaware of him.

Instead of announcing himself, or clearing his throat or making any indication that he was not Heechul he just settled a calloused hand in pillowy soft hair and dropped his mail bag on the opposite side of the fence.

“Yah,” Jungkook opened his mouth with the clear intention to complain but then... then he looked up.

Yoongi’s youngest brother shot up straight and and opened his mouth again but ended up biting his lip when his broad shoulders squished up. Tears welled in his warm eyes and he tried to scream for their mother but his voice broke and Yoongi’s heart broke with it. They crashed into each other over the fence.

Jungkook who had outgrown his older brothers when he was a child sobbed hard into the mint haired mans shoulder. That soft voice choked out “big brother” a thousand times. Awkwardly long fingers grabbed at every spare scrap of clothing they could find. They stood there like that for at least ten minutes with the horses shifting in the background.

With swollen red eyes and snot dripping out his nose Kookie finally found his voice again he sniffled and smiled and said, “Yoongi, go get in the wagon. Get Hee up here.”

Ah, there was the Kookie he knew and loved.

He motioned for the limping commissioner and traded places.

He didn’t hear much of what went on. It took everything in him not to jump out right when he heard his mom’s voice and his dad’s strong footsteps coming down the old garden path.  After Yoongi  got behind the cart and put Vern in a very stern down stay. Just the bits that Jongkook and Heechul made sure he could hear from his short distance.

“Ah no,” Jungkook said, “No, he was just telling me a story and I got a little emotional is all.”

“I just have some extra mail for you today and Kookie didn’t think he could carry it all,” Heechul explained smoothly, “I was telling him about a  letter I got while we waited.”

“What kind of mail is it?” Jihyo asked, “More fan mail for The Heart?”

Yoongi took that as his most perfect opportunity and spun out of the shadow of the wagon to offer, “An RSVP to a wedding.”

The look on her face was worth it. It was stuck between shock, anger and excitement. All of their faces were varied on the spectrum of shock and love in some way.

His mother swore at him and called him a brat  as she shoved through the gate and ran to him.

There was so much crying...and hugging. More hugging than he could stand.

He and Jimin were consoling a sobbing Hoseok for at least ten minutes before he managed to say “You need to stop or you’re going to have a swollen face for your wedding.”

“My what?” Hobi choked out as he pulled away.

“Your wedding,” the mint haired mail courier repeated.

Wherein Heechul had to explain his part in this whole mess. They had literally dressed the whole town overnight. Literally. The pink haired commissioner was very serious about the wedding happening that day before the flowers wilted.

Hani ran out late to the party like always and her greeting was probably the most spectacularly her it could have been “Is that Vern?” she asked in this almost mortified tone that made him laugh.

“Yeah, that’s Vermillion.”

“He’s enormous,” she bawlked.

“Hey big dog,” his dad said, kneeling in front of the four foot tall beast of a dog. The slobbery that ensued nearly knocked the very well build Jongkook right off his knees.

“He’s way bigger than the pictures,” Hoseok commented.

“I told you,” Jimin hissed and nudged the other in the side.