"Who the blessed heck left my blessed pink apron on the mother-blessed dirty kitchen floor?!"

The shrill roar of fury rang throughout the entire house.

"Jin hyung is home," Hoseok exhaled as shuffled the deck of cards of Uno.

Him, Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook (who had recently come back home from school), and I had been playing Uno to pass the time.

"Jimin, I assigned you to babysit Y/N and we leave you two for less than 10 hours and I come back home to find the pillows and my precious apron on the floor, what the blessed heck do you have to say for yourself?" Jin could still be heard half screeching downstairs.

"What are you getting mad about? That pink frilly thing that makes you look like a two-year old girl playing dress up?" Jimin's retort travelled down the hall.

I blinked at his sharp words, quoting my words from earlier.

"Oh, a two-year old playing dress up, huh?" Jin laughed flippantly. "Let's see. A frying pan or a crowbar, Jimin."

"Huh?" I could hear the frown in Jimin's voice even from upstairs.

"A frying pan or a crowbar," Jin repeated himself too calmly. "You pick the weapon I'll use to whoop your non-existent soul to heaven for Judgment Day."

"Do you guys want to play another round?" Hoseok waved the deck of cards in the air.

"Let's stop for now and head downstairs," Taehyung scratched his tummy. "Jin hyung said he was going to make a mid-month snack for everyone tonight."

I perked at the prospect of more food.

"I don't think that's happening anytime soon," Namjoon stated drily as an inhumane shriek resounded below.

"I don't want to sound presumptuous..." I coughed nervously.

"Uh-oh," Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. "That sounds too much like 'no offense' when one really means offense."

I blushed a little. "I just... I don't get how all of you manage to stick together all the time. It always seems like someone is getting mad at someone. When I first arrived, Yoongi was mad at Taehyung and Jungkook..."

"I mean, they did set fire to the West Wing of the house," Hoseok pointed out.

"Then Jimin was mad at Taehyung and Jungkook..."

"We ditched class," Jungkook shrugged. "Jimin was class president for 9 years. Us ditching school is equivalent to burning down the school itself."

"You did set fire to the West Wing of the house," Hoseok repeated with a harder edge to his voice.

"And now Jin yelling at Jimin," I finished.

"You try living with the same seven dorks for over 700 years and then tell me if you got along peacefully the entire time," Taehyung leaned back on his arms.

"It's nothing out of ordinary," Namjoon offered me a sweet smile (dear papacita demons actually had dimples??).

"This group is a bunch of chaotic young men from the start. But we've had a long past together, and would stick out our neck in an instant for each other."

"How is Jimin, Y/N?" Hoseok leaned forward a little.

"Huh?" my brows furrowed a little.

"Since you and him are often alone together, how is he? Does he treat you decently?"

The image of him all but straddling me on the ground, smushed up on the couch flashed through my mind. I had yet to clarify what the heckles Jimin was thinking so suddenly to do such a thing.

I cleared my throat. "Oh prefect, everything is going just perfectly," I hummed.

"You're a terrible liar, Y/N," Jungkook grinned.

I flushed a little.

"He hasn't hurt you?" Namjoon's eyes rested on me.

I quickly shook my head. "Definitely not, no. I trust him." And the surprising thing was I did trust Jimin when everything was boiled down.

To a certain extent.

The way he quickly shoved me into a hiding spot in the store on the very first day (or night, whatever you wanted to call it) we had known each other to keep me hidden from Sukami.

The way he had fulfilled his promise to hold me safe on the windowsill as we broke and entered (mainly broke) into the museum. The way he had frantically told me to hide today, when the Crimson Immortals made a surprise appearance.

"I had a question for you guys, though," I leaned forward, lowering my voice a little. "I've noticed that whenever I bring up the Mad King's War that Jimin just... how Jimin reacts is just so..." I trailed off.

"He tenses up," Namjoon finished for me simply.

"Yeah!" I nodded vigorously.

Namjoon inhaled, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek in thoughts. "And you want to know why he reacts like that? Is that it?"

"I was just curious," I whispered. "But if it's too personal, I get it."

Namjoon grunted a little, nodding. "In all honesty I believe the only one who can really tell you the truth of Jimin's past is Jimin himself."

"Jimin suffered through a lot during the war, let's just say," Hoseok added, worrying his lower lip a little.

"Hyung saved us," now Jungkook piped up quietly.

"Saved... you?" I blinked.

"Jungkook," Namjoon warned softly.

It was enough to shut the golden-haired maknae up and he refused to say anything else.

Silence filled the room for a few moments as I comprehended the new information. So it was confirmed Jimin had suffered during the war, but how? And what did Jungkook mean 'Jimin saved us'? The mysteriousness of Jimin and honestly the Bangtan Boys in general seemed to only increase.

A thump broke the silence and before I could turn around, Jungkook and Taehyung looked up in shock at the doorway behind me.

"Hyung, did Jin hyung shove you into a blender?"

I twisted to see Jimin standing in the doorway, hair sticking straight up all over the place as if he'd been electrocuted. Pieces of what looked like spinach peeked out between hair strands.

"I wanted the frying pan," was Jimin's response. "He chose the crowbar."

"On a scale from 1 to Yoongi on Monday, how angry is Jin hyung ?" Taehyung leaned forward.

Jimin tugged pieces of spinach from his hair. "Yoongi hearing Jin's Dad Jokes on Monday morning."

"I'll calm him down," Namjoon huffed. "By the way, Jimin, Y/N. I got some library books after work on humans and magic. We need to start searching for alternate ways to get Y/N back to Earth. They're in the living room."

For a split second Jimin seemed to pause as Namjoon walked past him through the door and exchanged looks with me. Then he quickly turned to lean out the door.

"Beware Namjoon hyung!" he yelled after the tall white-hair young man as he left for downstairs. "He still has the crowbar next to him!"

"Where'd the spinach come from?" I asked lightly, trying to resist an urge to laugh as I saw another piece of green sticking out of the blue hair. He looked so adorable standing there.

Taehyung and Jungkook were outright snickering and Hoseok looked amused.

Jimin ruffled his hair, a few more green falling from his hair. "That's where the blender came in."

"You missed a leaf," I couldn't stop the giggle in me as I stood up and crossed over to Jimin.

The blue-haired eyes widened slightly as I reached up and plucked a piece of spinach from his hair.

The moment my fingers brushed through the fluffy blue hair slightly to grab the spinach I paused for a second, realizing my situation: I was standing chest to chest with Jimin with one hand all but caressing through his hair.

I quickly cleared my throat and yanked the spinach out of his hair to cover up my sudden flood of unexplainable embarrassment.

Unfortunately, a few strands of blue came out as well.

"OW!" Jimin recoiled like a snake, hand snapping up to the back of his head. "Seriously Human? I'd prefer not to go bald before I'm 2200 years old."

"Oh please," irritation now filled me to further bury my twisting stomach. "Humans on earth would love to live even over 60 years old and still have all hair intact. Now shut up."

"Excuse you, I think the proper words you're looking for are 'I'm sorry my dear Jimin for ripping out your hair without permission'," Jimin seethed.

"Too many words," I fired back. "And your hair follicles will grow back. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look at those books Namjoon got from the library."

I whipped around and began to march away, praying Jimin didn't see the blush on my cheeks. His next words reassured me he didn't.

"And may the crowbar fall on you on your waydownstairs!" Jimin called after me.

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