The Law of Inertia {YOONMIN}

Chapter One

Even at the young age of eleven, Jungkook knew the different benefits of each social class. He knew that while his father fought tooth and nail for a single loaf of bread, the kings and queens, dukes and duchesses,- all ate feast every night for dinner and warm muffins for breakfast. He knew that while he and his father wore worn linen clothes that smelt of earth and slight mildew that seeped through the wood they slept on at night, that the people merely two, maybe three, social classes above them slept in silk and velvet, dressing in fur lined cloaks and beautiful leathers.

He was aware, however, that luxury was not always a blessing. Even as he cleaned carrots and potatoes, moved burlap sacks from corner to corner of the marketplace, he knew that he too had benefits. Such as the pretty blue sky, with fluffy white clouds that loomed over the worn cobblestone paths of his village. He knew that he was allowed to go play in the river, and sit down for story time with the village elders, and that he had a simple life with simple freedoms. Even then, as he sat in the sweltering heat of the last day of summer selling hand sewn cushions and cloaks to the village folk, he was far luckier than the sad boy, dressed in emeralds and thick furs who sat in his room,- in which loomed, half hidden, poking out of the side of the cliff that the castle had been built into. Painted reds and browns, peering over the happy town. Merely a room, but still enough to dampen the joy that the town brought to their kingdom. Enough to dull the sun.

Jungkook's father had told him that the king and queen were not cruel rulers. He said that they didn't ask for high taxes and did as much as they could for the small village, but Jungkook had always struggled to believe that. Yet, his papa was a wise and truthful man. The man held a strong posture and spoke with a gleam in his eyes, even to the strangest of people. He told Jungkook to be kind. To welcome the unknown with open arms but careful steps.

Today, his Papa stood next to him, working their stale as Jungkook played with some old dolls of his mother's. A makeshift sword battle with tiny twigs he had found earlier that morning. Customers came and went, the usual's. The Kim's, and the Johnston's,- the Avery's and Chin's. Each a mother and father or father and son, every single one bringing their usual partner with them, that was, up until the Min's.

Because, today, there was no Papa Min. With his stark black hair and nearly golden eyes. Who stood towering over Jungkook's father, a large contrast to his son's very small form. The elder Min had always spoken with power and boldness, brooding but never rude. Today though, today,- the air around the Min child rung cold. The boy stood hunched over and frail. He hadn't ever had any toys like Jungkook did, but he was far older than younger anyways. And his hair had always been an anomaly. Sparkling silver in the moonlight, dull gray on cloudy days. Some years, it was pulled into a bun atop his head, while others it was cut short into bangs that hung over his eyes. Jungkook had always wished his hair could be that color, but his Papa told him that Yoongi, the young Min, was special.

"I'm here for cloaks." Yoongi asked, his voice deeper than it used to be, but far shyer than his fathers.

"Where's your dad, son?" Jungkook's father leaned against the wooden table of their tent. He tilted his head at the young Min in concern, for he had never come alone before. That, in of itself, had Jungkook looking up from his dolls to better listen to their conversation. "Is he sick? Do you need me to go purchase herbs for him?"

Such a kind man, Jungkook's father. Too kind, maybe,- but kind nonetheless. Always willing to put others before himself. If he were to buy the herbs for medicine, he wouldn't be able to feed himself. Only Jungkook.

"My father is dead." the boy says, and Jungkook tilts his head. Dead? He had been far too youthful to be dead. "I'm here for my family's cloaks." He repeats.

The Min's had a large family. Over fifteen members, not one of them appearing to even be the slightest bit similar. Jungkook thinks they all smell like the earth. Yoongi, in particular, smelt of Smokey wood, perhaps something warm and sweet as well. Papa said they all smelled the same to him. Earthy and musky.

Jungkook's father seemed taken aback by Yoongi's words, but made no effort to reach out for the teen. "He's...,- Was it the royal hunters? No, couldn't have been,- they were hunting for food."

"They were hunting for fur." The other states. His facial expressions were empty, his voice remaining calm. Jungkook wonders what Yoongi's Papa has to do with fur. "Cloaks, sir. I'm to be home before noon."

Hunters? The hunters had came through the village a few days prior, asking if any of the towns men were willing to help them scout food. Not hunt it. Simply tell them where it was. The reasoning as to why Yoongi's father got killed over fur seemed...,- odd.

"O-of course...," His father nodded, reaching for the burlap sack that Jungkook had packed full of cloaks the night before. Pulling it from under the table and resting it in front of Yoongi, the man smiles solemnly. "If...,- If there is anything you or your family needs, son, you can always come here."

Yoongi passes over a bag of coins and accepts the sack without another word.

Jungkook wonders why Yoongi didn't say hi to him.

~

My ass is numb and I'm supposed to be practicing, but I'm in a practice room alone with three hours of homework, so clearly I chose to edit. And before you saying anything, no, I'm not procrastinating doing my work, I'm procrastinating the mental breakdown that it encompasses. - Zepp {011321}

i have two things of bio notes to take!!! and laundry!! and cleaning!! yay!!!! - tae {011821}