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the sky turns golden, as the sun dips below the horizon. a calm breeze ruffles seokjin's hair as he braids two stems into a flower crown. his fingers are bruised green, a mark of his hard work today. he looks over at his brothers, eyes glinting with mirth.
namjoon and hoseok cackle together, their voices travelling high over the mountain tops, bringing curious birds out of their nests. they have a basket of petals in front of them; the fruit of their labour. the velvety strips of colour feels like a bed of clouds under namjoon's wandering hand. hoseok immediately takes the leader's hand out of the basket, handing the man another thorned flower to de-petal.
seokjin's gaze moves to yoongi, the second oldest in their group of seven. the young man is colouring a large canvas; an advertisement that reflects their hard work today. the flowers are depicted as blobs of mixed paint, and watercolour drips artfully down the ridges of yoongi's canvas in a sweet imitation of freedom. seokjin is in awe of the art piece, fighting his urge to take a picture of the soft, concentrated look in yoongi's eyes as he adds another stoke of red paint to one of the blobs.
turning his face away from the blond man, seokjin's eyes land on the two troublemakers of the group. his love for them is as infinite as the golden sky. he watches them playfully tug at a long string of flowers, attempting to unknot their own handwork. the string of colourful flowers in taehyung's hand extends all the way over his shoulder and into jimin's small, caring hands. jimin is tying another brightly coloured flower to the end of the string, using an elongated leg to stop taehyung from crashing backwards and ruining their work. seokjin laughs at taehyung affronted pout, enjoying the playful fight that breaks out when tae accidently sits on jimin's flower.
shaking his head at the two, seokjin turns his gaze upon the youngest of the group. the silent boy is perched a few metre away from yoongi, his tattooed fingers a blur as he sews the stringed flowers into a crown of green weeds; the same made by seokjin. jungkook has a delicate frown etched in the middle of his brow, a sign of his concentration. there is a small pout on his lips as he makes a mistake and has to undo his last stitch. if seokjin strains his ears enough, he can make out a soft melody, words flowing beautifully into the late evening air, 'let's make a door in your heart, open the door and this place will await, it's okay to believe – the magic shop will comfort you ~ '
as the night falls, seokjin knows everything will be okay. how can it not be, when they are together. seven men, sitting in a blanket of nature, hearts and minds content as they work for their flowers.
(yes, army are the flowers. i'm not crying – you are.)
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hi guys, i posted this short drabble on twitter (@/skjedix) and i thought i'd share it here as well. i know we're all feeling bad rn, but writing has helped me gain some hope for the future. i hope you are all doing well. sending lots of love <33
