cupid → yoonmin

four

       Jimin sighed and rubbed at his face, glaring down at the file in his lap. He had been sure that all Yoongi needed was a slight push in the right direction, but now that he knew that Yoongi needed a forceful shove into Hoseok's arms, he was becoming discouraged. Seokjin had promised to help him as much as he could, but Jimin was still unsure as to whether or not he would complete the mission. Jimin knew he was shit at playing the love doctor, he knew that he would be better suited as a nymph, or even a fairy, but he couldn't help that both his mother and father had been matchmakers. He was born into the profession, and there was nothing he could do to change the fact. For the time being, Jimin was just going to have to try his best to help Hoseok so he could keep his wings.

       A soft ring rang out through the apartment and Jimin perked up, immediately recognizing the sound The Great Book makes when trying to connect the mortal world to the super natural world. He shoved the file off his lap and sat patiently, waiting for Seokjin's voice to appear. Suddenly Jimin heard the beginnings of a conversation, and upon listening for a minute he realized he was eavesdropping on the middle of a conversation, a conversation he wasn't supposed to hear.

       "You can't just steal his wings, it's unjust." Seokjin said. Jimin immediately recognized the frustration in his voice, and Jimin leant forward, as if he too was sat at the large table in the council hall, not on a bright pink beanbag chair in his room. 

       "It's not stealing, Seokjin. It's revocation of his wings due to carelessness." Jimin made a squeak of protest, and he prayed that whomever had rang him set it up so the council couldn't hear him. "Carelessness, and inability to set any two people together. He couldn't even make a married couple fall in love, Seokjin. We can't keep him around when there's a million other families having children that can and will preform better than him."

       "He's trying and you're not even giving him a proper chance!" Seokjin yelled. Jimin flinched – Seokjin never yelled. "He's been on this mission for two days, give him more time!"

Jimin sighed and picked himself up off the beanbag chair. He shrugged off the jacket Seokjin gave him, watching as the enchanted leather fell to the floor and his wings appeared. They were short and stubby, hardly protruding father than his shoulders. The bottom feathers were torn and tattered from numerous crash landings and years of being smashed between two idiots who loved group hugs. (Jimin had cried the first time Jungkook and Taehyung had crinkled his feathers, thinking that he would never be able to fly again. He was only nine at the time, yet he still cringes at the memory.)

"We cannot afford to have him fail this mission, Seokjin." Jimin glared at his wings, purposely flitting them pathetically. Perhaps he didn't deserve his wings. He hadn't taken proper care of them, nor had he done anything to actually earn his wings.

"He won't, I'll make sure he doesn't. But don't give up on him yet." Jimin was completely tuned out of the conversation, hearing but not really absorbing anything. He shook his wings out, and he could practically hear the organ wheezing from days of rest and suffocation under the heavy jacket.

"I wonder," Jimin whispered to himself, flapping his wings slightly. Would they still work in the mortal world? Jimin jumped off the ground a little and squealed in delight as he hovered in the air. He dropped back down onto the ground and grabbed his jacket, watching as the magic covered his wings once more. He almost frowned, but then remembered what he was set out to do, and smiled brightly.

Jimin ran out of his apartment and to the elevator. He danced around waiting for it to open before remembering that he was not at home, and he had to press the button to make the seemingly magic box appear. Jimin slammed his thumb against the button and giggled to himself when the elevator dinged. Part of him loved the mortal world and all it's fun noises, but he didn't love the fact that he always had to remember a key to get into his room.