Song: Let Me Know 

I am woken by the eardrum scraping sound of metal being crushed awfully near to my head.

Groggy, I push myself to the heels of my palms so that my body is curved sideways in a tv - watching - Yoongi - esque position, and somehow note the lack of black hair ending at my navel. And also how there wasn’t any of the same said black hair caught under my , by the way that my head was not being pulled backwards.

However, though my first thought is a sleepy, I’ll kill the ers if they cut my hair, my next few are much more reasonable: 1) why do I care about that mop anyways? Long hair’ll just remind me of- I cut myself off on that one. 2) They don’t want to be castrated, and they’re actually not dumb enough to think that I wouldn’t. And 3), my head doesn’t feel lighter. Because if anything, it’s heavier.

Heavy footsteps cue me into Jihoon’s arrival, as well as his quietly uttered, “Well, sh*t.”

I whip my head around to face him - not a good idea, by the way, if you’ve had whiplash before - and feel something sharp poke at my ear. And then I feel something sharp poke from my neck, but it’s an internal kind of poke this time.

I groan, holding my neck, my index finger scraping against the same thing that poked my ear. My eyes widen, when I realize that there is foil in my hair.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks quickly, eyes darting nervously from my finger to my own eyes. He’s sincere, yes, but he’s also a wee bit scared.

“What did you do?”

He swallows at my tone. “Now, now, just remember that you’re a year younger than me, and that I need my face for my career, and that it was actually all Yoongi-hyung’s idea, so you shoul-”

He’s cut off with an “ack!” when I go flying at him.

“Huh, you sick bastard?” I mock, noogying him within an inch of his life - or his scalp’s life at any rate. “What’d you do?”

He turns his head so that his chin rests on my elbow, giving his vocal chords some new space from the crook of my elbow, something I taught him to do after he’d passed out from lack of oxygen three too many times for my comfort as kids. I also didn’t want his mom to find him like that in my arms, because the woman could - and still can - rival You-Know-Who in setting off pants pissing.

“Ask your brother,” he wheezes, not giving me any information like the little sh*t he is.

I may be awake enough to be aggressive and make basic observations, but I will honestly be one of the first to admit that I am not necessarily the brightest in the morning. Yoongi always says it’s ever, really, and I always find a new way to pin him by the throat.

I need my ing black tea.

And of course, my still sleep hazed brain jumps to the most illogical solution first: “Did you burn my hair off and then try to glue it back on with foil wrapping?”

Despite my hold on him, Jihoon splutters at my complete idiocy. “Yeonsoo, what the hell,” he guffaws, choking when he accidentally uses too much force in bending over.

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, raising an eyebrow when he sees us, then shrugging like he decides that it’s a normal thing to happen. Because, quite frankly, it is normal.

He his head, though, when a thought strikes him at the same time as a self satisfied smirk. A thought, that he gladly voices. “.”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” I fire back. “You disgust me.”

He feigns offence at that. “Me? The genius Min Yoongi, disgusting my sister with insinuations of with our cousin? Never. And that’s Yoongi-oppa, to you,” he drawls sarcastically.

I scrunch my nose, cringing at how he says “oppa” all cutesy and vile. “The hell did you do to my hair,” I growl.

He shrugs again. “You weren’t supposed to wake up this early, but I suppose it’s ready now, since…” He gestures to my hold on Jihoon. “Does your scalp burn yet?”

Of course, as soon as he mentions it, I realize that it does, and said hold on Jihoon abruptly drops in favor for one on the tinfoil residing in my hair.

“Did you bleach it?” I grit out.

My oh- so- original brother grins the same toothy grin that used to make the girls in my grade school swoon, and does the same to the girls - and a few boys - in my university.

Or univer-titty, judging by how scantily clad some people are at my age, something I hopefully will never understand the reasons for.

That swoon inducing grin makes my skin crawl with two things: more disgust, and some apprehension.

Jihoon’s collapsed at my feet, playing up his recovery from my grasp, by gasping like a fish on land.

I prod him with a toe. “Get up,” is the simple command I utter.

He complies. “People think that I’m scary, but you’re the real monster-”

I scoff in interruption. “As if.”

“-but you really are being weird,” he continues. “Why haven’t you visited us since our debut?”

He’s referring to his band.

I shrug. “Exactly what you said: you’ve debuted. I don’t need to baby my brother’s trainees anymore.”

He gives me a disturbing approximation of a pout. “You meanie.”

“And I didn’t have time, what with finals and such. And after that, I just didn’t want to.” I pause. “Also, please never make that face again, because it was creepy as and I don’t need nightmares.”

He grins devilishly. “Good to know that it was as scary as I thought.”

I eye him, only cut short by my, “ow, oh , ow, OW!”

“Yoongi,” I gasp. “Get this out of my hair before it burns all of my hair out.”

“That’s Yoongi-oppa, to you,” he repeats and I groan in a mixture of pain and embarrassment.

~

It’s one o’clock when one of Yoongi’s friends comes over, bearing the gifts of chicken and, he proclaims, himself.

I’m washing my hands in the kitchen sink because I just killed a fly with my palm, when he bursts out in shrill laughter at my new hair color.

“Yeonsoo,” he gasps out. “Pink!”

I flick soap suds at him. “I literally woke up like this. Don’t get me started.”

“I have to call Seokjin over. This is priceless,” he manages to get out between chortles.

“Oh, god,” I mumble. “It’s already a balls- and- testosterone fest in here.”

He chokes on his own spit. “Never even as a kid-” he coughs- “could I imagine you with pink hair.”

“Considering that you’re about four years older than me, I hope that you didn’t do any imagining about me as a kid, Park Jimin. I’d still rather that you don’t do any now.”

Jimin sends me a very sideways expression. “Please, Yeonsoo. You’ve never been the subject of any of my wet dreams.”

“Ah,” I remark. “Still confident in the presence of younguns, I see. And I’m pretty sure that pissing yourself makes you wet too, and I’m positive that I remember that one time Yoongi told me-”

“Okay, I get it,” he interrupts hastily.

“Finally get yourself a girlfriend?”

“Oh, shut up, you child.”

~

Much to my surprise, Jimin actually does have a girlfriend. And her name is Kim Sohyun, as I later find out.

“Kim Soohyun?” Yoongi asks around a mouthful of rice. “Isn’t he, like, a really young CEO? I didn’t know you had it in you to seduce chaebols, Jimin.”

“No,” Jimin emphasizes. “Kim Sohyun. Not Soohyun. So.”

I tilt my head as a memory strikes me. “Isn’t that the same girl who rejected you for prom because someone else had already asked?”

Yoongi chokes on his rice, a trend that seems to be being made today, I observe. Well, not necessarily around rice, but just choking in general.

Jimin nods. “I was on my way to a blind date about two weeks ago and bumped into her, and she recognized me. We chatted a bit, before parting ways, only to find out later at that little cafe in the mall that we had actually been set up with each other.”

“That’s so cliched,” Jihoon comments.

“Don’t get any ideas,” my brother warns him. “You’re not allowed to date in public for two years, you know.”

My half smile drops immediately, and I scowl into my chicken.

“In public, hyung, that’s the key and your loophole. I mean, Jeong-”

“Don’t be an idiot,” my brother interrupts. “It’s obviously easier to just not date during the entire period. You may be popular, but you’re still new. Thirteen can’t beat ECO quite yet.”

“That’s unfair. ECO’s huge, and they’re our seniors by over three years. Plus, they’re from SN. We’re from your small company,” Jihoon protests.

Yoongi nods, as if Jihoon’s just concluded everything - and he has. “Exactly. My company.”

Jimin intercedes for once, holding out his hands. “Whoa, guys. I brought chicken so we could eat and have fun, not have a spat.”

Jihoon ignores him. “I don’t particularly want to date any time soon, but it’d be nice to have the option. And anyways, again, Jeonghan and Yeonsoo are together, so I don’t see why I’m any different.”

He ploughed through Yoongi’s attempt at stopping him from going any further.

I stand up, the chicken no longer looking appetizing anymore. “I’m going to my room,” I announce.

Yoongi gives me a curt nod, and Jimin scans my face, worried.

“I’ll come with you,” he says quickly, getting out of his seat. For all of his (usually quite lame) jokes, he’s actually one of the nicest people that I know.

I shake my head. “You idiot,” I tell him, forcing some fondness into my voice. “I said my room. You can’t just follow a girl to her room.”

And I flee, before the tears can escape into my cousin’s, my brother’s, and our mutual friend’s sights.