FlOWERS WITH THORNS | K.TH

Beauty, Dark and Gold

RIN

"Well— maybe if you were better, then you would've known that our Queen likes raspberries more than blueberries."

"Shut up." I mumble under my breath, tossing a dirty rag caked with dust towards his direction. His amber eyes glitter, and he winks. He dares to fucking wink, as he easily catches the rag out of midair and redirects it to a boiling tub of water.

He drops the cloth in.

Stupid idiot, I mouth under my breath as I turn towards the cabinets, eyes searching for a fresh jar of soap. The old one was nearly empty.

"Is the Sage your brother?"

My eyes, which had been drooping sleepily, jerks wide open. And I spin around, fixing knives into Jimin's steady amber eyes. My heart is jumping inside of my chest, having gone from the speed of sixty to a hundred twenty beats per minute within the span of two seconds.

"...what did you just say?"

"Is the Sage your brother?" He repeats, turning to shelve a neatly-folded cloth into the cabinets. "I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to know. I just saw the two of you the night before."

Yes, he wasn't supposed to know.

No one was supposed to know.

Shit.

I stare at him, as he continues to arrange the stacks of cloth. Flashbacks of my blurry memory whip around like a whirlpool in my head.

I should've checked. I'd just been so caught up with the thought that I wouldn't see Jungkook for such a long time that I'd acted out of place. I'd gone and hugged him like an idiot. I should've checked. What was I doing? After years of keeping this a close secret. After years of extreme caution.

No, no, no.

Jungkook's bruised, bloodstained hands wrap around my flushed cheeks. My eyes are swollen from crying.

This can't happen again, Rin.

He wipes away my tears, with the edge of his calloused thumbs. When I look up, his face is shadowed from having his back to the dim light of the moon. The top of my head barely comes up to his chest.

Do you understand?

His voice is tender, but firm.

"Rin."

"Rin!"

And Jungkook dissipates. I find myself back at the washroom, the dull, dark walls staring at my face. There's a deep, fragrant scent. It's almost so fragrant that it's pungent. It feels as if I'm standing in cold, thick water.

I look down.

And I don't register that I've knocked over an entire bucket full of soap suds until I see the white clouds of cream running down my legs, soaking my thin, leather shoes through. The bucket, completely empty, rolls down the slanted floor until it hits the leg of a chair.

"What is wrong with you?!"

Jimin's abandoned his pile of rags. He rushes over to me, his deep amber eyes flickering in alarm. There's another bucket clutched between his hands.

Before I can say a single word, he dumps the whole thing on the bottom half of my dress, my ankles, all of it. I instantly flinch at the coldness of the water.

He hisses at me when I bend down.

"Don't move."

I freeze, hand outstretched.