back off, sns 2 | bts & rv

convo: seokjin & yerim (ft. jungkook)

ding dong

"seokjin's not home."

"i'm here for food, not him."

"ouch that hurts!" the door cracks open, revealing that handsome face of the said kim seokjin. he walks out in a white tee that embraces those broad shoulders just about right and a pair of pink flannel pants that conceals the length of his legs. "you come to my house to eat instead of seeing me??" 

"because you won't open the damn door!" yerim grunts, frowning against the summer sun. 

"so that was a lie?" the muscle on his face loosens upon her response.

"no. prepare some food, i'm starving." stating blankly, the little girl pushes seokjin aside, walking straight into his house. 

nothing changed since the last time she came, still the familiar house that looms proudly behind polished iron gates, flanked by rows of skeletal trees crowned in emerald swaying gently to the steamy summer wind. its design draws back to generations earlier, quite antique, yet somewhat remains modernized. marbled floors, ornate mahogany stair rails, all are carved and gleamed so that they shine. family portraits are painted in oils and hung in gold frames, and furniture is all handmade by master craftsmen. 

kim seokjin wears pink, but he lives in a three-century-old mansion. 

"it's been a long time," yerim stretches her arm. "ya remember the huge vent last time?"

"how can i forget?" the man rolls his eyes. "you were mad at jungkook and put all anger, plus boiled water, on me, you satan."

"come on it was hella fun!"

"except from the part that i was almost possibly turned into a piece of cooked meat, then yes it was." seokjin sounds like a grandpa whenever he raises his voice, which is exactly how he is at the moment.

"i taught you a good lesson, so be thankful." the girl states confidently as she checks out the fridge. 

"thankful my ass." the chef knocks on her head. "take a seat, i'll make some food." 

"jinjjang~ ♡"  

outside the kitchen, seokjin is a composer of dad jokes, but once inside, he is an artist of food. he moves as if he has his own personal choir playing within. at times he follows the staccato, then legato at the others. yet whatever rhythms flow in his soul, every motion is precise from intense repetition which explains pretty much the perfection of his shapes. 

"here you go, garlic butter pan-seared salmon." approaching the dining table, he serves her his heavenly-made dish. everything is even and uniform, such decent decoration for a mere homemade food. 

"thanks for the meal!!" yerim sings happily.

"is it good?" seokjin stands there as the girl takes a bite, awaiting for her facial expressions and sounds. 

"beyond perfect." she gives him a thumbs up, her words stuffed with food. 

"glad to hear." with his childish heart, the big man smiles softly. 

"can you teach my boyfriend? his name is jungkook but that guy cooks shit."

"i already tried once, he just can't. his muscle arms are for gym only." seokjin shrugs and recalls the last disaster jungkook made.