One, two, step, lean out...face full of dirt.

Jimin coughs, scrambling back to his feet and gagging at the taste of mud in his mouth. The spring showers have kept the ground moist and slippery, but Jimin’s determined to get this right.

Obviously, Jimin misses his family most out of all the things he’s given up to be where he is. He still pictures his mother’s face as she pokes her head into his room and says good night when the day’s all done, and the way his father would greet him every morning with a warm smile and question already on his lips. How did you sleep? Much planned for today?

But, that doesn’t mean Jimin can’t miss the other things to. He certainly doesn’t miss his job, but he misses a lot of other things about the city and his freedom. That one fateful day, he’d been travelling home on the bus after his usual dance class. It was nothing special – a casual group coming together to learn a style or movement. Jimin’s not even sure he knows anyone’s name from that class, nor if they would know his. He’d strived to stay anonymous, maintaining his favourite thing about the big city. He even paid by day, unlike some of the other regulars who opted for a semester pass.

No one would miss him from that class, but Jimin’s okay with that. He misses the routine and practice that kept him on his toes (literally). It had been a blessing, a space for Jimin to divert his passion and energy into something without people watching and thinking things of him. He’d rather not be seen at all, just for a moment of his day.

And now? Jimin’s already out of touch. With nothing urgent on his to-do list, Jimin’s opted to spend his morning reviewing old dance routines in the newly refurbished courtyard – and it’s not going well. It hasn’t even been that long since he’d danced, he’d certainly taken longer breaks before, but that’s also not necessarily the main problem.

It’s his tail, he’s sure of it. This brand-new appendage that seems thrilled to get in Jimin’s way, twisting under his feet or throwing him off balance in a spin. It’s driving Jimin insane, but he won’t let it win.

He knows it’s insanity to be fighting his own limb like it has a mind of its own, but Jimin sees no better way to spend his time than giving in to crazy.

Yoongi’s settled on the front porch of the shrine, looking for all the world like he’s asleep as he lounges against the wooden wall. He’s not, though – maybe he thinks he’s fooling Jimin, but Jimin can see the way his head shifts sometimes, following Jimin’s patterned movements across the open space. Oddly enough, Jimin doesn’t mind all that much. As much as he can go on about preferring anonymity and avoiding judgemental stares (even positive ones), he doesn’t have a bone in his body that feels uncomfortable with Yoongi watching.

Which is totally weird, because there’s only two other people that both know Jimin and have seen him dance – his best friend and his brother. Taemin had been the one to introduce Jimin to dance in the first place, and his brother was...well, his brother.

Jimin doesn’t stop, doesn’t even give himself a moment to breathe. There’s a slight chill to the air that makes Jimin shiver slightly as the sweat dries on his skin, but the sun is warm overhead and reinvigorates Jimin to just keep trying.

One, two, step, lean...

At the very least, Jimin doesn’t end with his face in the mud this time. He catches himself as he stumbles, nearly tripping over a stone in the courtyard paving. Jimin hisses in frustration but pushes himself to continue the routine anyway. It’s clear he’s not going to get that one step right, so he may as well make an attempt at the rest of it.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t get any easier. Everything feels wrong, like all those years of work had amounted to nothing. His balance is off, the ground feels different under his feet. His arms and legs move him to the right positions, the same positions he’s always found success in, but it no longer returns the same results. It’s like his body is outright refusing to cooperate.

“I thought cats had perfect balance?” Yoongi calls out, startling Jimin as drops into a squat to breathe. His lungs burn, each exhale forming small clouds as it hits the cold air. Yoongi still doesn’t move, but his eyes are open properly now.

Jimin pouts, ears starting to hurt as the cold catches up with him. “Very funny.”

“It’s exhausting watching you. You're exhausting,” Yoongi comments with a yawn. Jimin rolls his eyes, exaggerating the movement greatly just to make sure Yoongi would catch it. It’s petty, but it works.

“You got anything better for me to do?” Jimin says, finally rising back to his feet. His legs shake a little underneath him, but he ignores it.

Yoongi’s mouth twists into a funny expression that Jimin can’t quite decipher. “Maybe. Wait here.”

 

~*~

 

Yoongi’s only gone for ten minutes, just enough time for Jimin to head back inside and get changed into something not-so-drenched in sweat and mud – and if that something just happens to be Yoongi’s fluffy sweater with the long sleeves, Jimin doesn’t mind.

He hears Yoongi’s footsteps overhead before the trapdoor in the ceiling springs open, giving Jimin enough warning to settle down and get comfortable. Yoongi arrives with two bags, one hanging on each arm, but doesn’t say much until he’s dumped them in front of Jimin.

“What’s this?” Jimin asks, carefully pulling a bag closer. When Yoongi doesn’t scold him for it, he peers inside. Books?

“Consider it a gift,” Yoongi replies, shrugging.

Jimin pulls the first book from the top of the pile in the bag, frowning at the bright colours and oversized words. “A children’s book?” he asks, turning it over in his hands. The front is decorated with whimsical images of humanoid creatures with fangs and tails and wings and scales.

“Children’s books,” Yoongi confirms, shrugging his coat off. “Check the other bag.”

Jimin complies, setting the picture-book aside to dig through the other bag – and finds it filled with all kinds of objects, balls and boxes and pencils with notebooks. He pulls out the first thing to catch his eye, an iridescent disc that shimmers when he holds it at certain angles.

Yoongi snorts. “Of course that’s the one you choose first,” he remarks, standing somewhere behind Jimin. “Hold it up to your face.” Jimin complies.

“What the hell?” Jimin exclaims, staring into his reflection – or what he assumes is his reflection. His hair is orange, his eyes pupils too round, and strange markings dotted under his eyes. He instinctively reaches up to his hair to tug a strand in front of his face, only to find it still a natural brown.

“Every girl owns one, in my world,” Yoongi explains. “A kind of mirror, it reflects you but... not you. You can change your hair colour and add piercings and stuff. They were super popular a couple of years back.”

“So, like, Photoshop?” Jimin asks, peering closer into the mirror. His eyes are a startling blue, and definitely way bigger than normal.

“Photo-what? I don’t know. Young girls use them to take photos and stuff. It’s not permanent, but it’s like dressing up I guess.”

Jimin sets the mirror aside, suddenly intrigued. “What is all this stuff?” he asks, digging back into the bag with excitement. A bright blue ball catches his eyes, squishing like sand between his fingers when he picks it up.

“You liked that hidden box the other day, I thought you might want to see some other stuff that kids play with in the spirit realm.” Jimin shifts around to look at Yoongi, but Yoongi’s pointedly staring at the ground, scuffing his foot against the hardwood floor. “The books are the popular ones that most children grow up with. My mother used to read a lot of them to me, so I tried to pick out ones that you might like.”

“These are yours?” Jimin asks, running the not-ball through his hands like goo.

“Nah,” Yoongi says quickly, and out of the corner of his eye Jimin sees his gaze finally raise a little, even if it’s just to watch Jimin watch the weird substance tip through his hands. “I bought them from a shop.”

Jimin tries to grab the toy to stop its motion, but fails as it flops through his fingers and onto floor. Jimin grins up at Yoongi anyway, trying his best to throw every ounce of gratitude into his voice. “Thank-you, Yoongi!”

 

~*~

 

It settles Jimin for the afternoon, at least. At first, the toys were the most exciting. Yoongi mostly let him explore for himself like a toddler with his first birthday presents, but stepped in occasionally when the mechanics or purpose fell just outside Jimin’s grasp. Some of the things, as Yoongi had explained, were kind of educational – mostly giving young kids a way to practice using their energy – but others were just schoolyard toys to be tossed around and enjoyed endlessly.

Now, though, Jimin finds himself immersed in the books. The first one he’d picked up had clearly been aimed at very young children, with language so simple and large, colourful pictures adorning every page. A few of the other books were a bit thicker in comparison, pages of text with no images, like a short novella for teenagers. To Jimin, it didn’t matter. The books were similar to...well, human books, he supposes, with themes of friendship and cooperation and kindness. The stories themselves, however, featured things beyond Jimin’s wildest imaginations. Characters and creatures, abilities and struggles, all these things that only gave Jimin the slightest insight into the weirdly wonderful world that Yoongi seemed to come from.

Whether he’d meant it or not, Yoongi had made a good choice. Aimed at children, the books explained themselves in simple enough terms that helped Jimin to understand this new world. It was no encyclopedia, but it did give Jimin a new curiosity around this ‘spirit realm’.

A few times, he’d had to lift his chosen book to show Yoongi and ask “what’s this?”. It made Jimin feel dumb and childish the first few times, not being able to understand the concepts in a book aimed at children who were learning to read, but he quickly got over that feeling when Yoongi never once responded in a way that put him down. Jimin even suspected that Yoongi was excited when Jimin asked questions, even if he was clearly trying to hide it.

 

~*~

 

It’s become a routine, that Jimin wakes earlier than Yoongi. Jimin doesn’t mind – Yoongi doesn’t usually disturb him even when he’s awake, and it’s nice knowing that Yoongi is getting the sleep he obviously needs. It gives Jimin time every morning to wake up properly, stretching out under the glow of the rising sun and wishing a heartfelt good morning to the trees and the birds around him.

These last few days, he’s also taken the time to practice a little bit more of his dance. It’s kind of pointless, given that he’ll never show anyone or perform for anything – but then again, that was always the case even before he tumbled down the mountain. He likes to imagine that it keeps his mind and body sharp, and it’s not like he wants to let all those honed skills go to waste after so much time spent learning.

Today, unfortunately, is no better than every other day. Jimin can’t see any improvement at all, still having to catch himself in every movement as his body refuses to behave the way it has always done. It’s beyond frustrating now, boiling under Jimin’s skin with every failed step he takes.

It’s not like he used to be a perfect dancer, but he was at least good. He put a lot of time and effort into his routines, forcing himself to practice over and over until he got it right. Now, it’s like he’s starting from baby steps again. All those hours he’d put in meant nothing, apparently, and that’s what hurt the most.

The weather this morning is nowhere near as cold as it had been just days ago, the full warmth of spring already beginning to take hold as the days grew longer. It’s still probably too cold to be out in a t-shirt, but Jimin can’t even feel the chill over the way his muscles burn.

This morning, Jimin had given in a little. He’d stopped working on those routines that he’d been performing with ease just weeks earlier and had instead turned to those dance steps that he’d learned the first few times he’d ever stepped into the studio. It was better, technically, but Jimin could still feel the way his balance tipped uneasily with every pose he held.

“,” Jimin hisses, forcing his back to straighten out and push him even higher. His shoulders ache as the blood rushes down from his fingertips, and still Jimin holds his form. Underneath him, his legs wobble – but Jimin knows the real culprit lies elsewhere. His balance seems to have shifted entirely, lying in some place beyond his core and it’s throwing Jimin off – literally.

He has to snap his arms back down as he wobbles again, enough this time to nearly fall over. It’s a simple yoga position, Jimin doesn’t even have to move and yet he still can’t get it right. He kicks out at the pavement in frustration, eyes prickling with unshed tears of anger.

Jimin stumbles in a half circle, digging his hands into his hair. This used to be so easy for him, but now he’s just some idiot who can’t work out how to stand on one leg. Why can’t you just do this one thing? he asks himself, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. Useless.

He startles, eyes snapping back open, when a pair of warm hands pull Jimin’s own fingers from his hair. Yoongi stares at Jimin, hard, not letting go of Jimin’s hands as he holds them between their bodies.

“What,” Jimin says forcefully, turning his head away before Yoongi can notice that he’s literally about to cry, like a child.

“Jimin, stop,” Yoongi says, not unkindly but with an edge to his words nonetheless. Jimin doesn’t listen.

He clenches his jaw until his head hurts, a rushing sound filling his ears with nothing but scathing words. You can’t even get this right. He’s too angry at himself to face Yoongi, too angry at himself for letting things get this bad without noticing. Everything feels wrong and Jimin’s wrong and nothing he does is ever right.

“Jimin,” Yoongi repeats, with enough bite in his voice that Jimin has to look up, even at the cost of his pride. “Listen to me, focus.”

Jimin’s not sure what he’s supposed to be focusing on, which makes him feel even more stupid than before.

Yoongi’s staring at him with a guarded expression, and that’s when Jimin finally notices it. His frustration is being poked, shoved by something, like an external force that doesn’t belong to Jimin but is intent on being heard. It overwhelms him with feelings of soft and warm, until his anger gives way to irritation and then to just mild annoyance. If Jimin focuses, like Yoongi said to, he might even be able to sense something a little weaker in the feeling – calm, yes, but with an edge of something that makes Jimin want wrap Yoongi in a blanket and funnel hot chocolate into him until he feels better.

Which Jimin finds weird, because Yoongi doesn’t seem to be feeling bad at all.

Yoongi finally releases Jimin’s hands, and Jimin slumps as the feeling leaves him almost immediately. There’s nothing left, now – the negative emotions had been forced out by whatever the hell that was, leaving Jimin’s mind blank and at ease.

“Come inside?” Yoongi asks gently, which makes Jimin feel funny – Yoongi may have been less I hate everything about you and more your existence does not necessarily upset me lately, but this is something totally different.

The only answer Jimin can find is that Yoongi had controlled him with some kind of magic, invading his mind and controlling it like some kind of bad-guy vampire in those horrible fantasy movies his brother likes. It makes him feel uneasy as he complacently follows Yoongi back into the shrine. He doesn’t like the notion that Yoongi had forced him to feel things that didn’t actual exist, only bending Jimin to his will as he pleases.

And did that mean Yoongi could do other things too? If he had some mind-control abilities going on, how far did that extend? Could he see into Jimin’s memories, or take control of his body and force him to act? Jimin felt that he could trust Yoongi, but maybe he shouldn’t. He didn’t know anything about the guy, and while Jimin could usually trust his instincts – this was different. Yoongi had manipulated him through an invasive takeover of his mind.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything until they’re back inside the tiny apartment below the shrine, turning away to the kitchenette as Jimin collapses grumpily on his bed. He watches Yoongi work, the sounds of running liquid filling the silence. He’s fully prepared to lay in to Yoongi, even if he’s not quite sure what he’s going to say, but Yoongi gets there first.

“I made hot chocolate? I thought you might like it, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb,” Yoongi says, slowly descending into a discouraged tone as he trails on. Jimin accepts the mug without thinking about it, eyes wide. Hot chocolate?

“You were just working really hard and it looked cold,” Yoongi rambles on, pausing only for a second to chew on his lip. “You seemed like the type to enjoy sweet stuff? Not that it’s a bad thing!”

Jimin’s barely listening. Hot chocolate. Surely the chances that Jimin would think about hot chocolate and Yoongi would make it are really slim, and there’s no logical reason for Yoongi to have forced Jimin to think about giving Yoongi hot chocolate and taking care of him. So – what?

“It’s okay if you don’t want it,” Yoongi says finally, shoulders slumping a little. He won’t meet Jimin’s eye, but suddenly Jimin doesn’t feel the need to interrogate Yoongi at all. The mug in his hands is warm, bringing life back into Jimin’s fingers that he hadn’t even realised he’d lost. He takes a sip and stifles a moan, because damn that’s good.

He feels he owes it to Yoongi to say as much, put him out of his misery. “It’s really good,” he says quietly. This time, it’s his turn to avoid Yoongi’s gaze, instead choosing to stare into the dark swirls of his mug.

Jimin had felt the overwhelming urge to take care of Yoongi, fuelled by a strange sense of worry that seemed to have no motive, and yet here Yoongi is – taking care of Jimin, handing him hot chocolate as Jimin settles into the messy blankets tangled on his bed.

“Yoongi...” Jimin starts, because someone has to say something. He’s not going to get answers by just sitting here pondering his own existence.

Yoongi cringes visibly. “Jimin, I’m really sorry for what happened back there,” he rushes out. “You looked really upset and I didn’t know what to do.” He still won’t look at Jimin.

“So, what, you controlled my mind?” Jimin asks, although he can’t find any bitter feelings left in his body – even though that kind of invasion is totally unacceptable in Jimin’s books.

From the way Yoongi jumps, though, Jimin has nothing to worry about. “Control your mi- what? No!” Seemingly spurned on by Jimin’s accusation, Yoongi’s staring straight at Jimin – and the intensity makes Jimin shift uncomfortably. Yoongi holds up a finger, raising a second as he speaks. “First of all, I would never, but secondly? That’s not even possible.”

Jimin frowns. “What?” he says at last, oh-so-intelligently.

In a surprise move, Yoongi steps closer to settle in front of Jimin. He sets his mug to the side and holds out his free hand, palm facing up. Jimin just looks at him dumbly, eyes flicking from Yoongi’s hand to his face.

“Trust me,” Yoongi says, almost pleading, and Jimin can’t help it – he does trust Yoongi. Even after all this, even though he knows next to nothing about this man who’s a stranger, Jimin trusts him. He carefully leans over to place his mug next to Yoongi’s on the floor and hesitantly places his hand in Yoongi’s.

Instantly, he feels it again. Like a visitor to his very soul, something reaches inside Jimin and shows him that new range of emotions – this time, a frame of worry surrounding an overwhelming doubt and fear, uneasy and reserved. Jimin can still feel his own emotions and can even distinctly separate them from this newcomer, like there’s two spirits housed inside his own body. Without thinking, he reaches for the outsider, seeking to know more – and it disappears, shrinks away as Yoongi snaps his own hand back from Jimin’s.

“That’s...”

“Me, yeah,” Yoongi finishes, hands resting on his knees in a way that screams uncertainty, at least to Jimin.

Jimin doesn’t know what to think, so he says the only thing on his mind. “That’s really cool,” he whispers, unable to tear his focus away from Yoongi’s hands. He’s not sure he understands – but he is certain that Yoongi just showed him something special, something precious that belonged only between them.

Yoongi relaxes a little, although there’s still an obvious tension held in his shoulders. “There’s a...connection, between a god and their resident,” he explains quietly, fingers beginning to tap some unknown rhythm against his knee. “You can pass your emotions and even some thoughts, like, basic images and stuff – you can pass it your partner.”

Jimin wets his lips, taking a deep breath. “So, then, you were feeling all that earlier.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Kind of. If I focus on good things, I can try and make you feel them too.”

“And – and when we touch? You can read my thoughts too?”

“Not unless you let me, or sometimes when the feeling is really strong or you’re unguarded.”

That familiar prickle sparks back up in the corner of Jimin’s eyes, although not for the same reasons as what seems only minutes ago. He has to resist the urge to rub at his eyes, lest Yoongi catch him crying again. Jimin doesn’t know Yoongi, but Yoongi doesn’t know Jimin either – and yet he’d held nothing but kindness for Jimin, even going so far to worry for him, like Jimin mattered.

It’s a really good feeling, Jimin decides. He feels greedy for wanting to feel it again and again.

Without pausing to consider his choices, mostly for fear of chickening out, Jimin tips forward and grabs Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi startles in surprise but doesn’t pull away – Jimin thinks that probably counts that as a win.

He figures it’s no different to everything else Yoongi had shown him so far – but instead of energy, Jimin focuses every feeling he has towards the place where his hand connects to Yoongi. Warmth, happiness, gratitude. Thank-you.

Jimin figures it must work when Yoongi finally lets go of that tension, hiding a careful smile behind a downturned face – and Jimin knows that’s definitely a win.

 

~*~

 

“That’s it, right?” Jimin asks, poring over his little notepad. It’s not the one Yoongi had bought a few days ago; Jimin had not been able to work that one out no matter how much he tried. No – this one is just a normal book of lined paper and a normal pen, entirely non-reliant on the position of the moon and sound of the aura thank god.

Satisfied, he rips out the page from the weak metal binder, passing it off to Yoongi with a smile. Yoongi grunts, but accepts it.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Jimin tries – like he’s been trying for the past hour, to no avail. This time is no different.

Yoongi levels him with a deadpan stare. Jimin just grins in what he hopes is his best look of innocence. “No, Jimin. You’re not coming out.”

“Whatver,” Jimin shrugs. “I’ve got my own important stuff to do here, I was only asking for your sake.”

That elicits a small chuckle from Yoongi, at least. “Yeah, right, sure.” He holds up the paper, scanning Jimin’s list – and Jimin prays that Yoongi can read his handwriting, feeling slightly embarrassed. “This is definitely all you need?”

“Yep!” Jimin says, popping the p. “It’s going to look so good.”

“I’ll be back in a bit, then,” Yoongi says, tucking the list into his pocket and turning on his heel to walk back into the shrine.

It’s only when Yoongi doesn’t emerge for several minutes that Jimin begins to think something is up. Upon a quick scan of the shrine interior, including sticking his head through the trapdoor into their apartment, Jimin realises that Yoongi is gone.

As far as Jimin’s aware, there’s no other exits to the shrine or their living space, and he likes to think he certainly would’ve noticed a portal or some other weird magical transportation system hidden away down there. So, where had Yoongi gone?

Jimin doesn’t need to wait long for answers. He’s only halfway through sweeping the courtyard (with the green broom, as the book had dictated) when Yoongi reappears, this time from the tree line and weighed down by several large shopping bags.

Jimin wastes no time in questioning Yoongi, dropping the broom to take half the load from Yoongi’s arms. “Where did you go?”

“The city nearby, although I stopped off at a spirit place for some things I thought might help,” Yoongi answers, breathing heavily as he finally dumps his baggage in front of the shrine.

Jimin huffs. “No, but like, where did you go?” he repeats, sliding the bags off his arms. “One second, you were in the shrine, next second – poof!” he says, demonstrating the poof with his hands.

“Oh, easy. It’s like...teleporting.”

“Teleporting?”

“Teleporting,” Yoongi confirms. He leans down to unpack the first of the bags, seemingly unfazed by this new information. “Look, one day I’ll teach you the spirit language and then you can know the real names for things, but for now let’s just keep it easy.”

Yoongi chucks a plastic satchel at Jimin – filled with collapsed paper lanterns, upon closer inspection. “It’s not the language that’s confusing me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi straightens up to finally meet Jimin’s stare, hesitating. “What, teleporting? I thought you knew?”

“How could I possibly know? I’ve been doing this for, like, a week.”

“Where else did you think I went? Just strolled into the woods?”

“I don’t know?” Jimin exclaims, holding the lanterns in one hand as he throws his arms in the air. “That wasn’t exactly the most important thing to me at the time!”

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi says, waving his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s one of the things you can do, it’s how I get between the spirit world and here. Moving from one overworld spot to another is a little trickier, but the same idea.”

“I can do?” Jimin repeats, tossing the lanterns to the side. “I can teleport?”

Yoongi holds up a box, roughly the size of an A5 sheet of paper. “I printed the flyers you asked for,” he says, ignoring Jimin.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whines, fixing him with a pout and (what he hopes are) puppy-dog eyes. It seems to work, at least a little.

“Fine,” Yoongi relents, dropping the empty plastic bag. “Let’s make sure you’ve got everything you want for this little festival and then I’ll teach you to teleport."