You get into a freak accident and wake up to your body surrounded by seven crying men. Or your unrequited love doesn’t seem so unrequited after all.
Chapter warnings
Angst, Horror
Chapter Rating: T (For Teen Audiences and Up)
Chapter 8: The Hen House part 1
A/N. Y'all. Have you seen airport Yoongi 2022? Also, wrote this while on the road so forgive me if it’s sloppy.
FLASHBACK
Smoke filled your lungs, an endless circle of tobacco and the smell of fried eggs and grilling meat as you tried to push your sweaty hair to the side, the sun beating down on your bare fore arms, the prickling heat shoved at the forefront of your mind incessantly.
You just know you were going to get a tan in weird places with the way your shirt sleeves were haphazardly rolled up to your shoulders and the frayed edge tied to a side knot just above your hip bone.
If anything you looked like a poster girl for Rosie the Riveter minus the iconic red polka-dotted headband.
You had foregone wearing shorts, opting for jeans instead as you weren’t really all that comfortable showing a good amount of skin below your stomach and so it was sweltering hot as you attempted with a mild grunt to carry the multitude of colored boxes for a new resident of the Hen House - you think you’ve read one labelled Toysand you weren’t born yesterday to decipher what thathad meant.
With a blush, you enter the comfortable air conditioned lobby of the home, the receptionist smiling behind the desk before going back to jot down something on her clipboard, and you trudge up the winding staircases down to the east wing.
The Hen House, built upon an old abandoned convent back in the day boasted a sprawling ten-acre enclave lined with all kinds of trees and greenery, a massive lake just behind the structure where you mostly loved to spend your time lounging by the docks whenever you didn’t have anything to do, feeding whatever woodland creature graced you with it’s presence so you tended to pocket an assortment of nuts and bits and pieces of bread whenever you visit.
It was actually one of the adopted social services program for Kyung Hee, the university you were attending, extending help to women (and men) who previously worked in the under hood of Korea’s red light districts and were trying to turn over a new page in their battered, worn out books.
Initially you were hesitant, what with your swamped schedule but your professor had convinced you otherwise in exchange for raising your GPA so you had agreed without thinking too much of the consequences.
Passing through the hallways all while giving a wave or two to the relatively cheerful residents doing their own thing, you come to a stop in front of a wooden door.
Lightly nudging it open, you toddle through and gently place the boxes in a corner of the room out of harm’s way.
“Thanks, sweet cheeks.”
Startled, you almost smack the tall intruder in his handsome face. “Oh fuck, sorry!” You bow as he barely dodges from your hands before he chuckles, bringing your flailing to a stop.
Your eyes land on the love handles peeking through his white cropped shirt.
Like a fish out of water, you blatantly ogle the dude, only to curse under your breath- first house rule, never ever check out the residents (at least openly) for several reasons, one of them being a violation of their dignity and privacy after everything they went through to get to this point.
But you couldn’t help it! He easily towered over you and he was huge, like he ate protein shakes for breakfast every morning.
Clearing your throat, you hold out a hand in greeting. “I’m LN YN.”
The attractive stranger nods taking your hand in his for a brief shake. “Kim Matthew, but you may call me BM.”
You give him a genuine, welcoming smile. “Well then, BM, I hope you like your new home. The people here can be a handful, and crazy, and sometimes pushes all your buttons and smoke like they’re sixty-five but they’re all caring on the inside.” You state plainly only to flush when you realize you were babbling.
You give a hasty bow, “Also, I’ll be in your care from now on.”
He grins, white canines glinting, the tear drop earrings he sported shimmers in the mid afternoon light streaming through the curtains as he pats your head consolingly almost amused at your little display and you look up at him shyly. “Likewise, YN.”
You have a strong feeling you and him would get along just fine.
.
BM, as it turns out, became your bosom buddy even if you hadn’t known him for long.
He was very well likeable and was basically good at everything, from cooking to building that cat dream house one of the matrons had always wanted, and writing poems that could rival Namjoon’s, you were starting to think all beautiful people were blessed by the gods themselves.
And BM was really good at writing. Like insanely good.
So it isn’t a wonder when one day, as you were raking leaves in the garden, he comes running out thrusting sheafs of paper against your face, getting you cross eyed as you tentatively take them from his excited grasp.
“I got in, YN!” He screams with giddiness and you stare confused only for your creased brows to unfurl, a giant smile lighting up your haggard demeanor.
BM had been accepted to Kyung Hee as a Literature Major under a scholarship.
The best part was, he would be sponsored to go to an Ivy League school of his choice as long as he kept his grades up.
“Woah, this is awesome!” You tell him, proud at his accomplishments as he basically lifts you up and twirls you around like you weighed nothing.
Having been a former stripper for a BDSM club, your friend didn’t have many options in his career, most regarding him with an underlying sort of disgust, a used commodity but it seems the Literature department of your university thought he had great potential ahead of him if they were willing to go so far as to let him finish a Master’s Degree abroad.
Once back in your feet, your beefy friend hesitates. “But… I’ll be moving into the dorms before the semester starts.”
You snort and smack him lightly on the chest, the only part reachable for your five foot, two inches. “Don’t worry about me, dummy. I go to the same university too. Dorm visitations are allowed on weekends. And it’s not like you can’t just text me to meet up or something. ”
He chuckles, but then his sharp eyes stray to somewhere behind you as he subconsciously grips your fingers in his. “Yeah, that’s not what I’m worried about.” He whispers seriously and you shoot a look at the middle aged man tottering a few steps away towards the sidewalk, as if he had just been caught peering through the fence.
You freeze. Who was that? This was the third time in a row you’ve caught him staring at you.
Somehow, and you don’t know why but that behavior reminded you of the Bogeyman when you were younger.
You shuddered.
BM does not let you get home alone that night as he steadfastly refuses to let you drive alone. “I’ll just take a cab on the way back.” He says, tone final and you don’t argue.
Knowing your friend for over a year now, his instincts for bad things were usually a little too spot on, (like that time you showed him a photo of an apartment you were looking into leasing which thankfully you didn’t as turns out it was a trap house) having been honed by dealing with seedy and unsavory clients for almost half of his street rat years.
Maybe you should report that incident to the police just in case.
You give him a farewell kiss on the cheek and watch him walk the driveway, past the security who open the gates for him, and back into the shadows, only for you to stop in your tracks as you feel someone watching your backside (surely it wasn’t the gatekeeper) and not wasting any time, you run into the house almost colliding into one of the boys dogs.
“Woof!”
You heave a sigh of relief as the brown poodle clings to your leg, tail wagging. “Holly, you scared me! ” You coo only for her owner to come stumbling out into the foyer sleepily.
“Oh, you’re back.” He then frowns checking the clock on the wall and is fairly surprised that it’s around two in the morning. He pauses awkwardly by the foot of the stairs. “…Had a hot date?” Yoongi drawls albeit uncomfortably, though you can’t tell with the way his lips break out into his usual smirk.
You don’t know why that gets to you, it’s just a question, but it does anyway and with how tired you were the entire goddamn day and the lingering fear still rooted in your bones, a bit of light leaves your irises. “Eh.” You shrug neither denying or confirming and brush past him, leaving Holly yapping in the background and her owner stumped because it was the first time you acted like you he was a roommate and nothing more.
Not a member of your makeshift family.
Not the man who hung the moon and the stars.
Not the man who broke your heart countless of times as he and his brothers came home looking thoroughly fucked and sated.
Nothing.
Frantic footsteps follow you, “…are you hungry?”
You stop and he stops, his dog in tow, sitting her butt on the marbled floor. “I’m sleepy. Good night, Yoongi. ” Your tone borders on a heavy sort of finality and you trudge up to your room without another word, not caring a shit what he thought about you at the moment.
Maybe tomorrow would be better.
.
The next morning finds you buried bone deep in volunteer work.
It was Sunday, and with no boyfriend or social life outside of your boys you had offered to clean the old lake shed at the Hen House.
It was a dusty old shack if anything, filled with miscellaneous stuff old residents had left and some rusty machinery which could fetch a notable price at some obscure junkyard by the roadside.
If only you weren’t alone (not discounting the receptionist and the cook who were always on duty) but the other staff had the day off and since most of the residents were capable of running the place anyway, they were left to their own devices.
You cough up a storm as the pile of books on the shelf topples, leaving you wheezing in a particle cloud of dust bunnies.
The shed may be grimy but it was pretty workable as it was small, big enough to fit at most four of you.
You huff, putting on a mask and hyping your spirits to do some shit cleaning because you were not going to leave this place without scrubbing every single inch, every nook and cranny until you were satisfied.
“Let’s do this, YN.”
It takes you approximately until seven into the evening to finish everything and you collapse in the now waxed and polished floor, muscles aching and moaning.
All things that could still be of use were boxed and taped up to be sent to the lost and found department just in case some of the residents wanted to ‘dumpster dive’.
The stuff that were practically trash was going to be shipped off to the junkyard tomorrow. Recycle and all that shit.
With a tired whine, you allow yourself to partially doze off to slumber, only minutes later, something cold taps your ankle until long fingers are grasping them and you jump up, shrieking in shock.
The old man you had seen with BM last night was here. Inside the shed. With you.
Shit!
Before you can even run out to call for help, a force yanks you back and you land on the hardwood with a thump.
You refuse to look anywhere but at him, thinking this was the way you were going to die and you’d rather not hold the face of your murderer in the afterlife lest you never find peace, only for him to practically bend abnormally close down to your level.
You gasp when you are left staring at milky white orbs and yellowed rotten teeth, “Save me.” The old man gasps and you scream.
END OF FLASHBACK
YOONGI POV
He hates you.
Well, he actually doesn’t.
He was annoyed, irritated, with the fact that you were hugging a man twice the size of the Sigma leader.
And he was a fucking dwarf compared to the guy’s bulging pectorals.
“YN?!”
He growls lowly, though the only people who heard were his brothers as you climb the big buffoon like he wanted you to climb his dick.
Something gnaws at his chest, straining, making his insides blaze with unbridled fury and bitterness as he witnesses how happy you looked, something he –they have never seen on you before.
And it hurts.
It fucking hurts.
“Guys, this is BM! He’s a good friend of mine!” You wave them over, glowing and positively beautiful that the twinge grows deeper, like a knife stabbed him in his lungs.
A friend? He’s never heard of this BM. Not until now. Dread fills his already fucked up emotional spectrum solely thanks to you.
Just how much of your life outside of them did they miss?
He glances at the others who mirror the same kind of trepidation as they all survey the gothic structure, the concrete seemingly intimidating even as they were used to grandeur.
There was something eerie about this place and if you had been working here for a long time right under their noses, he doesn’t even want to imagine what kind of horrors you faced.
And as you pull them all in to meet curious faces, he swallows, hiding his disdain as he realizes just how far away you were from them.
