Chapter Text
Jimin didn't believe in monsters.
The idea of them actually existing was stupid, a product of imagination, and Jimin was smart, his teacher said so every day, so he didn’t believe the adults at the Big House when they tell him every single night, “if you don't listen to us, the monsters will come out from under your bed and from your closet and eat you”.
It was stupid. Jimin could barely fit his chubby little hands under his rickety old bed, and the four winter coats he shared with Taehyung could hardly fit in their closet. What kind of monster could possibly be in there?
So Jimin was never afraid.
Even if it was storming and the thunder and lightning were so loud, even if the Big House was always cloaked in darkness from seven o' clock onward, Jimin was never afraid. He wasn't like Taehyung, who always cried for his mommy when the lights went out. Taehyung was smart, but maybe not as smart as Jimin because Jimin knew that since they were in the Big House, they didn't have mommies and daddies, so crying for them was pointless. Jimin had learned to love solitude and darkness, since that was what he only clearly knew in the world.
When Taehyung cried, Jimin felt a sense of responsibility for his friend. He'd crawl into Taehyung's bed despite the Big House's rule of “no feet on the floor after lights out”, give him a hug, and sing him to sleep with gibberish and made-up words to a lullaby he still hasn't memorized. Taehyung is afraid of the dark, unlike Jimin.
Since Jimin was smart, he knew the dark was just that—darkness. He didn't need to be afraid, because monsters didn't exist.
“Jimin. Jimin! Wake up!”
Jimin opened his eyes to Taehyung’s chubby face looming into his personal space. Jimin sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around.
It was still dark, and it was raining hard. It had been a rainy autumn season, and despite being an autumn child himself, Jimin didn't like it. The moonlight barely shone through the clouds in the dark murky night sky, much less through their grimy skylight window.
Still, Jimin could make out Taehyung’s face in the dark—tear stained cheeks, eyes wide with fear, floppy bunny doll clutched in a death grip in his fist as his other hand shook Jimin relentlessly.
“Jimin, get up! There's a monster!” Taehyung hissed sharply, pleading as his voice cracked a little.
Jimin frowned at him. Monsters weren’t real. Taehyung should know that.
“That's stupid, Taehyung. Monsters aren't real,” Jimin whispered, eyes darting to their bedroom door in fear of getting caught by one of the adults in the Big House.
“But I heard it, Jimin! In the closet! I’m scared!”
Taehyung seemed like he was going to cry again, so Jimin, being the older by a few months, just sighed and pulled Taehyung up onto his bed. Taehyung scrambled up next to him.
“There are no monsters, Taehyung. I'll check the closet for you, and then you'll see.”
Jimin jumped off his bed as Taehyung crawled under the sheets for cover. Jimin tiptoed across the room carefully, socked feet padding on their wooden floor quietly. The closet was at the back of their room, sitting in between their study desks. It looked harmless enough.
As soon as he reached the closet, Jimin didn't spare a moment. He gripped the cold golden handles with his little fists and pulled the doors open.
Taehyung let out a shriek as he did so.
There was nothing inside, except for their four winter coats.
“See? No monster, Taetae,” Jimin whispered, and as he did, his gaze caught something on the bottom of the closet.
A small red puddle the size of his fist.
“What's that?” Taehyung asked, already standing behind Jimin and leaning over his shoulder to see what they were staring at.
Jimin shrugged his shoulders. He leaned down and got on his knees, crawling towards the puddle. Without any reservation, Jimin stuck his finger into the puddle. Taehyung gagged in disgust.
Jimin didn't mind, though. He was too distracted by the thick red liquid on his finger. He held it up to his face, squinting at it.
“Taehyung—it's blood.”
The adults at the Big House threw a big fit over the “blood incident”.
Jimin didn't like how they were reacting. He heard mentions of window locks, earlier lights out schedules, how their closet should be burned, and even mentions of putting him and Taehyung in different rooms, and he didn't like it. Taehyung was pressed into his side, bunny doll dangling by an arm from his hand.
Jimin didn't like how they were all shouting and acting like Jimin and Taehyung found something they shouldn't, so Jimin spoke up and lied to the adults that he only lied about the blood.
Jimin was punished, of course. Lying was bad, and the adults didn't like it.
Jimin didn't get lunch and dinner, and by bedtime, his stomach was rumbling so loudly Taehyung actually thought it was another monster.
“Like I said, monsters aren't real, Taehyung.”
As soon as he said the words, a loud thud came from their closet. Taehyung jumped, falling off his bed and scurrying towards Jimin.
“I told you so! It’s like last night!” Taehyung grabbed him by the elbow, gripping him for comfort.
Jimin frowned, not convinced but completely puzzled by the sound. “That's just a coat falling off the hanger.”
“Check it, Jimin!” Taehyung whispered, pushing Jimin towards the closet.
Jimin scowled at him before sliding off his bed. As he took a step closer, another thud resounded. Jimin's heart was racing wildly.
“Another coat. It has to be,” Jimin whispered to himself as his chubby little fingers wrapped around the cold golden handles again.
He pulled the doors open quickly.
Four winter coats still hung firmly on their hangers—
—but at the bottom of the closet, leaning against the closet walls and looking positively close to dying, was a pale man with dark pink hair in dark bloody clothes.
He was breathing heavily as if the air around them wasn't enough, and his face was scrunched in pain, sweat matting his hair to his forehead and temples.
Jimin didn't know what to do.
Taehyung was suddenly beside him again, sounding panicked and scared. “Is that the monster? He looks hurt…should we call one of the older sisters?”
Jimin isn't sure why, but he quickly shot a hand out to stop Taehyung. “Don’t. They'll kill him.”
Taehyung looked at him. “What makes you say that? And he's a monster. Don't good people kill monsters?”
Jimin shook his head, getting on his knees and crawling closer to the pink-haired man. The man flinched slightly, but kept his eyes closed. One of his hand was pressing firmly onto his side, blood seeping through his fingers.
“I don't know, Taetae, but…I've never liked the older sisters. And this mister isn't a monster. He's a person. Let's help him.”
Jimin tentatively placed his hand on top of the man’s hand. The difference was amazingly striking. Jimin’s chubby little hand could barely wrap around the slim bloody fingers. Jimin's sun-kissed skin was warm, whereas the pale skin of the man was cold and clammy. Jimin shook him gently.
“Mister, mister. Wake up! Are you okay?”
The man groaned, trying to move and automatically hissing in pain. He flinched as he pressed his hand onto his side harder, and his eyes shot open. Gray eyes locked onto Jimin's brown ones.
The man opened his mouth to speak, lips cracking as he did so and blood seeping out of the fresh wound. “…who are you, kid?”
Jimin frowned at him. “You're in our closet.”
The man suddenly looked around wildly, his free hand feeling up the walls. A mix of panic and relief washed over his features as he relaxed, slumping against the wall and letting his hand drop. Jimin saw a wound, wide and bleeding, and he almost shot up in panic if the man hadn't grabbed his hand gently.
“I'm okay, kid, I'll be fine.” His voice was raspy, and tired.
Jimin shook his head, gesturing for Taehyung to come closer. “No, you're not! You're bleeding!”
The man laughed, wincing in pain right after. He sat up carefully, and with his free hand, he snapped his fingers. Jimin and Taehyung gasped.
The shadow around them started moving, shifting and squirming in weird erratic movements. With a swift flick of the man's finger, the shadow zipped to his wound and pressed over it firmly, stopping the bleeding completely.
Jimin stared. Taehyung pointed.
“There, not bleeding,” the man said, looking at the two of them with a small sheepish smile.
Taehyung spoke up first, voice soft and small in the night. His small fingers dug uncomfortably into Jimin's shoulder. “Are you…are you a monster?”
The man shrugged, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. Before he drifted off to sleep, his slurred response had Jimin and Taehyung even more confused.
“M'not a monster, kid. I'm a prince.”