Chapter Text
Seokjin’s breath hitched as his gaze swept across the library, past the fallen books and scattered papers, stopping at the trembling figure before him.
The kitten is gone on its place, a shivering child.
He is frail, small, his silver hair wild and uneven, catching the moonlight like threads of mist. His wings, delicate and translucent, quivered at his back, barely strong enough to hold him upright. But it was his eyes that struck them most—the color of molten gold, bright with fear, but hopeful.
Magic still crackled in the air, unstable and raw. The books nearest to him vibrated faintly, their edges glowing as if absorbing the remnants of his chaotic energy.
He took a step back.
His bare feet barely made a sound against the wooden floor, his arms curling tightly around himself. The moment stretched, heavy with silence, until Seokjin took the first cautious step forward.
Seokjin lowered himself to a kneeling position, keeping his voice steady. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Yoongi hesitated. His magic flickered around him—soft pulses of moonlight pooling at his feet, brief shadows stretching unnaturally.
Namjoon crouched as well, making sure Yoongi had space. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
The child’s grip tightened. “I—I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, voice barely audible.
Seokjin tilted his head. “Mean to what?”
Yoongi swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the wreckage around him. “To change. I—I didn’t want to make a mess.”
Seokjin let out a gentle laugh, not mocking—just light, reassuring. “Oh, little one… This house is built for chaos.”
Namjoon huffed a quiet chuckle as well. “And for you.” Yoongi’s breath hitched at that. His wings twitched, hesitant, unsure. He wasn’t used to words like that.
Seokjin reached out—not demanding, just offering. A steady presence in the swirling magic. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”
For a long, quiet moment, Yoongi simply stared at them—two people who had unknowingly become his home.
Then, slowly, with all the fear and hesitation in the world—he reached back.
And the magic settled.
~~~~~~
The family of three settled in the living room. As the warmth of the fire crackled softly, Yoongi’s grip on his mug loosened. He had barely taken a sip, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened, but the gentle weight of the blanket around his torso kept him grounded.
Seokjin noticed the way his wings twitched, still restless, still unsure.
“Do they hurt?” he asked gently, nodding toward them.
Yoongi hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Seokjin’s expression softened. “May I…?”
The boy froze. No one had ever asked before. His wings had always been something other—something unwanted, something too fragile to be of use.
But Seokjin wasn’t reaching with force. He was simply offering.
Slowly, cautiously, Yoongi shifted forward, turning slightly so his wings weren’t folded so tightly against himself.
Seokjin’s fingers brushed lightly over the tattered edges. “They’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice filled with something Yoongi wasn’t sure how to process.
Namjoon watched quietly, leaning back against the chair, letting Seokjin take the lead.
After a moment, Yoongi whispered, “They… don’t work right.”
Seokjin hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they just need time.”
Yoongi didn’t respond, but he let Seokjin’s warmth seep into the places where his magic had felt jagged for far too long.
Softly, carefully, Seokjin shifted onto his knees, meeting the boy’s gaze. “You know,” he murmured, “I understand.”
Yoongi frowned slightly, confused.
Seokjin exhaled slowly. Then, with a faint shimmer of magic, his own wings appeared.
They unfolded smoothly from his back—soft and translucent, feathered with hints of pale pink and silver, shifting in the firelight like liquid moonlight. Though he had long since learned to summon and conceal them at will, they still carried an undeniable elegance, a quiet strength that Yoongi had never seen in his own.
The boy’s breath hitched. His grip tightened around the blanket.
Seokjin let his wings settle, folding gently at his back. “You’re not the only one, little one.” His voice was warm, careful, carrying the weight of a truth that Yoongi had never dared to hope for.
Yoongi stared, gaze flickering between Seokjin and the wings that should have made them strangers—but instead made them kin.
Namjoon, watching from the side, let the moment breathe. He knew that no words could replace the understanding that flickered between them—the quiet realization that Yoongi wasn’t alone.
Seokjin reached out again, not demanding, just offering. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”
Yoongi hesitated. Then, for the first time, his wings twitched—just barely—like they finally belonged to something more than a forgotten past.