House Rules (BTS fic)

House: was it evil, I saw?

Author's Note: Things are heating up, ooh. Okay I'll shut up. Enjoy.

It took too long to take the man in all at once; Taehyung had to cut it into pieces.

First, he noticed his hair, how the patio light made the edges of the colored mess glow like a halo, outlining the odd shape and making the definite white hair look grey, either pigment contrasting meticulously with his skin.

The next were his clothes, wearing no more than black sweatpants and a blue T-shirt that barely covered his stomach even in his relaxed stance. His skin was pinkish red, streaks of the darker crimson running down his arms and around his neck for reasons Tae didn't care to know.

That brought Tae to his face and his stature, how he leaned on their door frame like he knew it personally, or like a persistent harasser with a helpless victim. He was slightly slumped over, head edging closer and closer to crossing that sacred line that separated him and the house. His face was just as open as his positioning, paper bag-colored lips with a tongue twisting visibly inside looking like the jelly in breast implants to him for some reason. His eyes were not matching, neither was his nose, both too small for his face but trying desperately to be bigger than what they simply were.

He combined these things to paint his picture, and it came down to one word: Wrong.

Namjoon wasn't able to do what Tae had done; he took it in all at once and came back to one thing...his eyes.

He wore blue contacts, or at least Namjoon hoped they were contacts. He hoped that the alluring pattern hiding within them and the deepness so centered on top weren't real, weren't going to stick around as long as he would see this person, which hopefully wouldn't be for very long.

The stranger was also analyzing, but not as much as them...because he knew this meeting was a long time coming.

Now Namjoon and Tae hoped his words would say differently, hoped their fears were simply that, that he would say the right things and be on his way with whatever he wanted.

And finally, after all the taking in was taken, they sent out, the stranger starting with a:

"Is Yoongi here?"

That, to the two men, was the wrongest of all.

They couldn't give him that.

"20,000 dollars."

"I'll give you 40."

Trevor, the owner of the pawn shop that simply couldn't stay away from handling his own valuables long enough to retire, grinned long and wide, the wisdom hiding in his teeth flashing Kookie out in the open. He pointed his wrinkled finger at the youthful man and walked over to his cash register. "Smart boy. It's a deal."

"Awesome," Kookie replied, waiting for Trevor's eyes to disappear inside the cash register's strong grip before he went back to admiring his new weapon, although he knew he couldn't call it that with the other guys; he would have to call the bow and arrow "decoration" for his room, that is if Jin and Yoongi would even let him bring it into their room. His finger slid down the smooth wood that smelled like his uncle's house; he had every collectible item known to man, Kookie would attest to that, even if he did know it wasn't true. The black and white-specked feather glued to the end of the arrow complimented the sharp grey tip of the arrowhead on the opposite side. He flicked the bowstring once more just to make sure it was tied well, digging in his pocket and pulling out his keys. Gently, he carved his—

"Pay for it first, Jeongguk!" Trevor insisted, stopping the boy from doing anything rash before the transaction was made. Kookie sighed, handed him his debit card, and continued to cut.