ONE SHOTS

✨ DON'T WRITE ABOUT MY PURPLE EYES ✨

DESCRIPTION: Seokjin found someone living in his treehouse. Someone as ethereal as one can be.

FANDOM: BTS

SHIP/MAIN CHARACTER: Jin

WARNINGS: —

WORD COUNT: 3535

Seokjin's eyes closed tightly shut for a single moment when he felt the sudden small pain on the back of his head; there was no question, he'd received a small flick from his mother. He slowly rose his head. His mother's brows were risen to the middle of her forehead as she quietly waited for his excuses. He guiltily smiled a small fake smile, turning his head back down to be faced with his horrible crime.

His cellphone "hidden" in the middle of his chemistry book; a mobile game paused by the action of a quick finger and abandoned paragraphs that were supposed to explain an experiment to him.

"I'm sor—"

"It's too late to be sorry! It's been two hours that you've allegedly been reading that book, for God's sake!" the woman's voice resonated through the small, blue-hued living room. Seokjin's face scrunched at the loud sound coming from right above his shoulders. His mother leaned down and grabbed the book — thus dropping the phone into Seokjin's lap — from Seokjin's hands "If you don't want to study, you don't have to. But do something more useful. Maybe attempt at cleaning up your treehouse. I'm sure it would make a nice hideout for your friends if they ever decide to come over"

Seokjin stared blankly before himself. The treehouse in question was built as a present for his 9th birthday. His 9th birthday was the first day he stepped foot into it, but it was also the last day he stepped foot into it. And the friends he had were online friends, the ones he managed to meet through games. His mother expected guests on a daily basis, but he didn't want to explain that someone from the other side of the country can't casually stroll down the street and into their front yard.

There was really no purpose whatsoever to cleaning the abandoned treehouse. It was abandoned for proper reasons (those being the lack of a computer and the lack of an electric outlet) and Seokjin never intended on visiting it ever again. He didn't need another hideout, he had his room for solitude.

However, it was pointless arguing with a mother he'd just disappointed. He felt bad about playing games instead of studying, he felt bad about betraying his mother who'd been watching over him with a proud smile on her face for the past two hours. He knew that doing as she suggests would help heal the wound at least a little bit. Thus, he nodded, apologized once more and explained that he'll change his clothes into something more appropriate for cleaning up an old abandoned treehouse.

The few steps that led upstairs to his room felt like hundreds, mostly due to his eyes being stuck to his phone. The game needed to be properly closed and he wasn't gonna miss out on the opportunity to do just that. He pocketed his phone just in front of the door to his room and sighed. Heading for the closet, he grabbed the cheapest shirt and sweatpants he could find. Both items were worn out to the max; he had been wearing them for four years now, ever since he was a freshman in high school. He quickly took the clothes he'd been wearing off and threw them onto his perfectly made bed sheets. He pulled the basic grey sweatpants on. He grabbed the light green shirt — though the washed out color could've easily been mistaken for grey at this point — and rolled it up over his arms. He stopped for a moment before pulling the upper hem over his head to glance at the treehouse through his window. He really didn't want to do this. His wrists trapped in sleeves moved slowly as his fingers traveled over his body. He started working out only a couple of months ago, but his constant efforts were already showing as he could feel abs forming. It gave him a small sense of pride, but the fact he had to clean up that dirty old thing was too big of a trending topic in his mind. He finally pulled the shirt on all the way, letting his brain take extra time in feeling the fabric set atop his abs. He mindlessly made sure to pocket his phone; it was mandatory to move around having it on him at all times.