[yoongi/jungkook] ; get me out of my mind

[starrystarrynight]

 

“Here, sir.”

A makeshift bag of rice is slid across the table, straight toward Yoongi. There’s another bag, too, mostly filled with canned vegetables and beans, but the unmistakable scent of fresh pokes out from the brown paper. Yoongi pulls that one closer, looks inside--onions. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen a whole vegetable, let alone be in a position to eat one. He’s also never accepted an offering of food before--not because the hunger ever stopped clawing his stomach, but because such generous displays out in the world were more often than not a trap. Help comes with a price, he remembers warning Jungkook once, months ago, years ago, several lives ago. You rely on yourself, okay?

When he glances up, the young boy manning the ration kitchen is staring back with a wary sort of curiosity. The look isn’t unfamiliar. It’s been burning holes in all of them since they staggered in four days ago. Not quite wild animals, but not quite things to trust. Not yet, at least.

Seokjin’s hoping that will change soon, and for that reason and more, Yoongi allows a nod at the teenager. “Thanks.”  

It’s a meal, all the same.

Yoongi unceremoniously hoists the bags in his arms and sets off toward the light blue house at the northeast end of the community, up ahead from the gardens. Their house, technically. Only he doesn’t feel any sense of ownership when he walks past the gate, carefully stepping over the string of cans and crossing the door with the chipped paint. It’s just...strange. There’s a bed, and a shower, and a working clock, and a place for them to hang up their coats and wash their socks, and there are books dotting the built in shelves in the living room, and there are two finely built levels and against all odds, a fireplace.

It’s the kind of house he was going to raise a family in, once upon a time. Funny how things come back around.

It’s silent as Yoongi pads over to the kitchen and starts unloading the food. Not unexpected--neither of them have been here much. For Yoongi it hasn’t necessarily been by choice--there have been meetings and introductions and tours and watch schedules and lending a hand to half a dozen projects--but he has the distinct impression Jungkook’s been avoiding this place. He’s always back at night, always makes sure Yoongi knows he’s okay, but they haven’t spent time together inside these four walls. Hell, they haven’t even sat on the couch in front of that fancy fireplace. Yoongi half-wonders if they even know how to.

So it’s a small surprise when he hears familiar footsteps descending the stairs. Yoongi turns to see the boy and lifts one of the onions by way of greeting, black hair falling into his eyes.

“Alexandria hospitality.”