“_______?” There’s a tap on your shoulder.

Drowsily, you blink your eyes open. “Hmm?” you mumble, still half-asleep.

“Did you get that? We were going over our new roles and you’re in charge of getting the vegetarian feed now,” the student head, Jongin, says.

Eyes still barely open, you nod sleepily. “Oh, yeah, okay,” you say, not entirely processing the information. Your leg has fallen asleep; you wince.

“Well, okay, then,” Jongin replies, sounding unsure. “I guess everything’s finalized. I’m going to turn the papers into the coordinating teacher now.”

It’s only when the door is firmly shut behind the student head do you truly awaken, mind whirling.

“Wait,” you say, your eyes finally snapping open as Jongin’s words actually sink in. “New roles? What? Since when? Huh?”

Across the table, your friend rolls her eyes at you. “Since last year’s seniors in the Magical Animal Care Council graduated? Good lord, the school year’s only barely begun and you’re already a mess. Are you okay?”

“Oh, oh,” you say, blinking rapidly to dispel the lingering drowsiness. “Right. True. And uh, I’m fine. Yeah.”

Your friend looks at you, incredulous. “Whatever you say, _______.”

“Wait,” you say, ignoring her pointed comment. “So I’m in charge of getting the vegetarian feed? Does that mean I have to go to the greenhouse or something? Where is that, anyways?”

“Yes, you have to go to the greenhouse. It’s located in the left wing of the building and it’s the really big glass house thing. Super huge. You’ll have to check in and talk to the botany student working there, and sign some sheet or something,” your friend replies. She her eyebrow at you, giving you a rough prod when she catches you drifting off again. “Are you really sure you’re okay? I mean, you’ve already slept through most of the demonology lecture today, and now you’re sleeping through the council meeting. The first council meeting of the new school year, I might add.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, straightening up in your seat again. “And in my defense, demonology is so boring. I’m not even studying to be an exorcist or a sealer or a demon expert anyways.”

“Yeah, well, you never know,” your friend replies, smiling. “It doesn’t hurt to learn new things.”

“Mmm.” You’re fighting hard to stay awake. How many hours of sleep did you get last night again? You’re not sure. You’re not even sure why the hell you were up that late anyways. “So,” you say, “did you say I had to check in with the student botanist there? Or something? Who’s working there?”

“I don’t know,” your friend replies. “In any case, I don’t know very many botanist students. Not that there are many to begin with.”

You nod—or you try to, before you slump over and fall asleep on the desk again.

//

You carefully step into the greenhouse, gently closing the glass door behind you. Plants—some arranged in neat rows, others sprawling from their pots, overflowing onto the floor, scaling the walls and ceiling—are everywhere. You wonder how the hell you’re going to find the student botanist, who’s probably hidden away in some obscure corner of this miniature jungle.

Tentatively, you take a step towards what you think is a path, all the while drinking in the wonder of the gardens. It’s like Eden in here. You raise a hand to a bunch of blossoming flowers, careful to not touch them. Afterall, they’re all magical plants, armed with a consciousness that normal plants lack.

“Hello?” you call, slowly walking down the path. When there's no answer, you pick your way through scattered plants to what you think is the student office, where the student is probably dozing off or something.

You try to step around a squirming vine making its way across the ground, but in the process you step on a leaf or a branch or something that’s attached to a vine, which is attached to a plant, and oh, . Come on.

You don't even have enough time to cringe and offer an apology because you’re suddenly being flung into the air by some strong vine of sorts, being twisted and turned this way and that. You let out a shriek of surprise; the plant weaves its way around your torso, its vines unrelenting, slowly snaking their way up to your neck. You try fumbling for your wand, but it’s caught in an awkward angle, pinned to your body by the strong grip of the vine.  . Distracted, you don’t notice another vine reaching towards you until it’s smacked you in the face. Twice.

“WHAT THE HELL,” you shout, frustrated. “I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T MEAN TO, NOW PLEASE LET ME GO.”

The plant ignores your exasperated yells as you try to wrestle your wand out to free yourself. A quick severing spell should do the trick, but at this point you really feel like setting the damn thing on fire. Who knew plants could be such jerks?

“BENIR CULUS!”

A voice has suddenly cut in amidst the chaotic mess of snapping vines. The grip of the plant immediately loosens, and unceremoniously you’re dropped to the ground in a heap. “Thanks,” you mutter, taking in your savior, standing a few feet away. His wand is pointed at you. You give him a small wave, smoothing out your clothes because damn, he is cute. “Thanks,” you say, again.

“Who are you?” he says, his gruff voice immediately offsetting your typically sunny mood.

You narrow your eyes, flattening your lips into a thin line. “I’m the person in charge of getting the vegetarian feed for the animals here. Do you happen to be the student botanist?”

The boy lowers his wand, letting his arm dangle at his side. “Yes, I am. And as the student in charge of the greenhouse, I have something very important to tell you: watch where the you’re going next time. My job is to take care of the plants, not to save students who can’t be bothered to step around them.”

You gape at him, because wow, appearances can be quite deceiving; this guy is a total jerk. Like his plants. They both attack ferociously and unreasonably. Except instead of using physical assault, he’s doing something more along the lines of verbal assault.

“Well,” you say, sharply. “I’ll tell you that I was actually trying to step around them, thank you very much.” You’re also tempted to add that, frankly, you are perfectly capable of freeing yourself from a few feral plants. You’re not a warlock or sorceress, but you’re still learned and practiced in both offensive and defensive combat.

“I hope you realize I just had to cast a recoilant on a vovere vinifera. Do you realize how rare those plants are? And how difficult it is to grow them?” the boy demands.

You in a breath through your teeth. Keep calm, you need him to give you the feed for the animals. Do it for the animals. “No, I did not know, but I am incredibly sorry,” you say, through your clenched teeth. “But anyway, I’m here for the feed. I need to check in and sign something, yeah?”

“Yes,” the boy replies, turning his back to you. You follow him, more cautious than ever, as he walks to the small student office, steps light and graceful.

Once inside, he shoves a clipboard into your hands, hands you a pen with an air of impatience. Tucking your wand back into your pocket, you take the pen and fill out the form. When you’re done, you hand it back to him; you notice he’s still scowling.

He gives the sheet only a cursory glance. “Alright,” he says, tossing the board onto the desk. Once again, you follow him out of the cramped room and into the open air of the greenhouse wordlessly, still fuming internally. He suddenly stops, pointing at a large cart filled to the brim with freshly cut vegetation.

“One cart should be good enough for the week,” he says. Nodding, since you can’t quite trust yourself to speak, you wrap your hands around the handle, giving the cart a forceful shove forward. It moves with surprising ease.

Even though you really don’t want to, you still feel obligated to say a curt “thanks.” The boy gives you a nod before swiftly turning  back to the student office.

“Wait,” you say, suddenly. The boy stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder, scowl still firmly in place. You resist the temptation to say your face is going to get stuck like that, you know, and opt for a safer, “What’s your name?” You’re not really sure why you’re asking him; in fact, you shouldn’t even care, really, after all his rudeness. But you guess you just have a sudden urge to put a name to the jerkface. No matter what, he is still disappointingly handsome.

He simply looks away from you and continues to walk on and away. You’re about to open your mouth and yell at the kid, because now you’ve gotten the feed, so there’s practically no reason to act like a normal, civilized, human being around him. Because he has certainly not been acting as such to you.

Before you can open your mouth, however, he calls, “Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” without even looking over his shoulder. And with that, he shuts the door to his office.

//

“So how was it? Was the process of getting the feed as easy as it seems?” your friend asks, spearing a piece of sushi.

“Ugh,” you say, eloquently. You don’t feel much like elaborating. Instead, you reach over, snatching a piece of sushi from her container. Whenever you’re feeling anything less than content, food is your go-to remedy.

“What’s his name, at least?” your friend coaxes. She’s got sushi dangling from her chopsticks. “Did you ask?” You shove your sushi into your mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing before answering her.

“Min Yoongi.”

Your friend stops chewing and turns to look at you, eyes wide. “No way, the Min Yoongi?”

You nod, grumpily. “Yes, if you mean the asshat Min Yoongi.”

Your friend laughs, setting her chopsticks down. “It’s okay, apparently he’s just a bitter to everyone.”

You hunch over your food, your eyes narrowed. “Really?” You say, incredulous. “Does he always unnecessarily hurl insults at everyone?”

Your friend shrugs. “Don’t know. Never really hung with him, anyways. But I know others who have and, needless to say, he kind of scared the out of them with his impressive...rudeness.”

//

“We’re out of the vegetarian feed now, by the way,” Jongin says to you as he hurries past, arms wrapped around a hunk of dried meat.

You let loose a loud groan, unwilling to go back to the greenhouse and face the rudeness of a certain Min Yoongi. You’d much rather be on stall duty, cleaning out the animal waste. “Do I have to go?” you ask, pleadingly. No one answers you, too absorbed in their own tasks, but you can already guess the answer: yes, you have to, it’s your goddamn duty, your fault for not listening when he assigned tasks in the beginning of the year.

Still grumbling, you drag your feet across the field, where all the animals are being cared for and fed and petted and loved, and back into the boring school building, to the greenhouse with the asshat student botanist.

//

“Oh? Are you here to trample t