#we let the arctic ki LL us

[dasirunrunrun]

Good Grief - Chapter One

Jungkook makes a habit of showing up drunk to a nearby flower shop. Bad puns and fluffy pining ensue.

Or, a college!au in which BTS are all frat boys, Namjoon is a science club president,Jimin just wants a good party, and Jungkook is hopelessly fascinated by the girl who takes care of flowers in her free time. author’s note:  hiiiiiii!! so this is my first ever fanfiction, and to be completely honest- it’s a long ride. so strap in, and get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions. Also there is a soundtrack/playlist for this fic! If you enjoy listening and reading (or, if you just want to have a g list of songs) you can find it here ! disclaimer: All mentions of the university in this fic are purely pulled from my ass— I don’t claim to know anything on a deep, spiritual level about university clubs, classes or frat parties. Side characters, that aren’t specifically Bangtan Members™, are all made up and therefor fictional .

If you’d prefer reading on AO3 the link is here

chapter warnings: mentions of alcohol (and drunkenness) chapter notes: this chapter is all for getting things rolling and introducing characters! it’ll pick up for sure after this! 

words: 4.2k

Chapter One

track: do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys

There are loads of things you can expect while working in a flower shop- Like, for one, an abundance of bees, butterflies, and other bugs that enjoy the flowers just as much as humans. Or, the knowledge that your bouquet will go to a receiving, flustered, significant other. Those things are expected. Those things are welcome, even.

But, hearing an obnoxious, loud knocking at the backside shop door, at 21:30, is definitely not on that list.

It wasn’t like the gentle knock from the delivery guy in the middle of the day— No, this was a banging, brutish sound coming from the other side of the Hibiscus green house. At 21:30.

With my vast experience of watching horror movies, I thought I was well prepared for this kind of situation. I had convinced myself that i’d be a badass main character— with double pistols and a sick ass soundtrack in the background. Now though, with a probable axe murderer on the other side of the door, I couldn’t bring myself to move, let alone play something like Highway To Hell in the background.

So here I am, at 21:30, staring at the door shake with every rap from the lunatics’ hand.

They say panic brings on hysteria, and maybe hysteria is what brought a surge of curiosity to my head in that very moment. Who even comes to a flower shop this late? For a robbery? Maybe. But there’s barely any money to be made from selling flowers. My family and house is a clear example of that.

Fortunately, my thoughts were interrupted by a voice cutting through the silence— coming from the very door that was, just a moment ago, victim of a massive beating. “Hiiiiii- I’m sorry for disturbing so late,” came a very slurred, very sugary yell from behind the door.

I held my breath, trying to decipher what age of male could be the host to that scratchy, rough voice. When another intrusion of thought, this time: “Excuuuuusseeee me” came. His voice picked up, louder — echoing off the walls of the shops, which had me ducking a bit behind the counter for useless cover.

I stared at the screen door, faintly able to make out the shape of the “knocker.” He didn’t look so huge, maybe taller than me, but not in a way that screamed “old man.” I counted to three, allowing myself to gain the composure that was needed.

With newfound courage, that was promptly pulled straight out of my ass, I cleared my throat, and moved to the door. The walk there felt like eternities, and my heart was beating so loudly there was a good chance that he probably heard it. I took a deep breath, hand on the doorknob, wondering just how I could make an escape if this turned out to be a terrible idea. Giving a three second prayer to a God I wasn’t sure I even believed in, I pulled open the door.

I was met with a very drunk, as expected, very attractive boy- looking around the same age as me. His black hair fell evenly into his eyes, as he moved to tilt his head to the side in obvious curiosity. The boy’s lips broke into a grin— making him look like a sort of soft, inebriated bunny. “Hi ther-”

“We’re closed,” was the first thing out of my mouth, cutting off his dreamy sigh. He stood straight up, looking put off- in that drunk kind of way. I tried to clear my throat, hoping that it would give me the authoritative image I was going for.

“If you’re closed then why are you answering the door?” Was the unhesitating, sloppy, strung together sentence that was returned back to me. Although his face remained the very description of amused humor, I could only be reminded of a five year old boy- immaturely sticking his tongue out.

I didn’t respond, too stunned with the quip to try and reply. My thoughts were running wild; trying to think of an escape plan (incase things went south), and at the same time, trying to find a way to roast the kid back. It was a very conflicting, and telling, moment for me as a person.

“Haha, caught.” The boy sung back to my lack of response, bringing up both of his hands in the ‘finger gun’ pose. His voice sounded lazy, like he had lost the energy to keep up this conversation. “Yah, are you a perpetual liar?”

I found myself bristling at his accusation. It took all the willpower I possessed to not shoot something snappy back. “You need to leave.” I informed, trying not to let the  irritation I was feeling seep into my voice. I had to look up to meet his eye directly, and that, besides being held up from going home, was the most annoying thing. “If you don't— i’ll, i”ll probably call the police, or something.” The threat was weak and held little to no truth. That much was obvious, even to my own ears.

Drunk- door knocker gave an almost smug chuckle- the sound airy in the silence of the shop. “Alright, alright. Fair enough,” this time the response was definitely toned down, but still holding the same causal flow of someone who was undoubtedly inebriated. “I’ll go.” A pause. “Don’t want you ‘probably’ calling the police or something.” The last comment was, beyond any doubt, snark. And for the second time that night I felt the urge to slap him.

I blinked, trying not to let the shock show on my face, as he saluted me before turning to walk back down the road.

I leaned my back against the nearest wall, waiting to see if another sudden knock was to erupt from behind the locked door. To my absolute relief; there was none. The moments after seemed to pass like hours; silence encapturing the room like a net.

Letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, I slowly allowed my body to slide down — using my back against the wall as a prop and comfort. The situation, in reality, was terrifying. The strangers ease of words, and light smile had brought most of the tension to leave my body. But with silence as my only companion, the question of: What would have happened had it not just been a random drunk passing by? rose to my head. A shiver climbed up my body— urging me to wrap my arms carefully around my torso.

A buzz from my phone sent me jumping to the side— immediately feeling the panic sneak back up my bones. Illuminating light flooded from my phone, indicating a message from “Mom” with the following text of: ’lock up quickly, you’ll need to eat before sleeping xx’

Sending back a short “okay x” in response and quickly gathering my things, I made my way out of the shop— careful to lock everything up, and double check the security alarm.

The walk home wasn’t far; ten minutes by foot, notably shorter by vehicle. The air was crisp, but still warm enough for only a light jacket. Spring was approaching faster than expected, which meant the flower shop was also attracting business. The image of the boy floated back into my head at that moment, making me puff out a breath in indignance.

What was that about? The situation was too bizarre to even try and normalize. Though, after much pondering, it made a bit of sense. Our flower shop was down the street from a major frat neighborhood. Drunk college students should’ve been expected to be roaming by every now and then. Even so, adrenaline continued to pulse through my bloodstream. Nearly five years of closing up shop for mom, and nothing like this had ever happened. I made a quick promise to myself to never mention this to her. She’d just get worried, and then insist that she should be the one closing up shop again.

But she had enough on her hands. What with trying to raise two twin boys. I mean, Dad was there, but working night shifts at the factory didn’t leave much room for “family bonding.”

I let out a soft sigh into the night air, nearing up on our small house in the process. The warm glow of light filtered out through the blinded windows, and just the sight brought a welcome feeling of comfort. Feeling my face give way to a soft smile, I brought myself to move into the house. Immediately, the smell of home cooked food, and familiarity fell on me.

“Mackkiiiee!” The pet name, usually put to use by my little brothers, rung in the air. Turning my face to the left, I was met with the scene of Max and Jamie- sitting on the ground with, what looked to be a drone, in between the two of them.

“Look at what we did!!” Max squealed excitedly, motioning to the black drone with over enthusiastic flicks of his arms.

“Your brothers are at it again.” The voice came from behind me, my mom, somewhere at the kitchen table. “Doing their little tinkering.” She clarified, as if that wasn’t clear to me.

“Oh,” Was all I could manage to push out of my throat. It’s ridiculous to be jealous of two 10 year olds, but honestly sometimes life was unfair. Here I was, 19 years old, working as hard as possible just to land B’s in school. While my brothers were already crafting their own devices. I watched the boys, seeing their eyes flicker back to me with obvious expectancy. “It’s awesome, kiddos.” I smiled, forcing all of the petty immaturity out of my body. “You guys are modern geniuses,” I grinned “Einstein would be soooo jealous.”

This proved to be the correct response, because moments later, the perfect image of joy was captured in the smiles that broke out on their faces. The two boys clapped hands together, then moved onto trying to take the device apart and give me an explanation of their expertise.

I let out a fond scoff, before moving to the kitchen and talk with my mom. She was sitting at the table, having already made a plate for me, with a newspaper clasped between her fingers. “Was everything in order at the shop?” She questioned lightly, raising her brown eyes to look over at me.

I pulled out my chair, taking a seat as memories of the situation from earlier replayed over in my head. “Yep, all good.” I lied smoothly, forking a piece of almost burnt chicken into my mouth.

“And for school tomorrow? Should I ask your father to give you a ride-”

“No,no,no” I rushed out, voice muffled by the chicken stuffed in my mouth. “I’ll take the bus.” I amended, after taking a sip of water,watching the shock leave her face and dawn into realization.Guilt flashed in her eyes like a warning. I let out a soft sigh and sat back in my chair, “it’s no big deal mom. Thursday’s are my free days, remember? I only have News Club, anyways.”

She didn’t look convinced, if anything even more discouraged. “I know, I know,” She murmured. “I just- you must be the only college kid without a license-”

“Ma’-” I cut her off for my own sake, really. I’d heard her complain over the “supposed sob story” that was my driving education (i.e nada) for years. It wasn’t like it was anyone’s fault but my own. My mom had always offered to pay for my driving classes, and then, of course, the payments to a car. But, that always felt selfish to me. Plus, with perfectly usable public transportation- why was that necessary?

“Well at least-” I stood up then, not wanting to hear her attempts at trying to “make up for it” when it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m going to bed now, ma” I said lightly after shoving my dishes into the dishwasher. “Thanks for the food- it was great.”

《                                               》

track: seeing stars - børns

The thing about university is: it’s not highschool. There is absolutely no comparison between the two. In university, if you chose to be “out of the loop,” it works. Because you aren’t forced to have everyone’s life shoved down your throat.

And that’s pretty legendary.

But unfortunately, as president of the newspaper club, it is my genuine job to have everyone’s life in my throat. Or, more accurately, in my computer.

“Nora,” The use of my name meant things were getting serious. “I’m telling you, the biggest story at the moment is the binge drinking epidemic in the frat houses.” Mary’s hesitant voice made me look up from my computer- pen in hand. “It’s absolutely revolting-” Her lispy voice was cut off by Jona’s laughter from another cubicle-like desk across the room.

“Mary, nobody cares about a little drinking from the school’s “infamous party house.” That’s old news.” Jona’s argument was accompanied by a signature eyebrow raise. Jona, our best journalist, had a lot of opinions; and he never chose to be quiet with them.

“He has a point.” Seokjin chimed in, to the left of me, looking much like a secretary: with a clipboard in hand, and coffee in the other. Seokjin was our vice president, and my best friend- to add. We’ve been attached at the hip for almost my entire life. Every memory I possess: he’s apart of.

“Yeah- you’d say that. What with being apart of the same frat.” This time the interjection came from Finn— sitting on top of his desk with a soccer ball in his hands. He gave it a toss, catching it moments later as he added: “you probably just want to avoid the bad press for Sigma Butter Alimony, or whatever it is”

Seokjin tilted his head to the side “it’s actually Sigma-”

“Pause.” Jona’s loud voice came across the room, causing all heads to swivel his direction. “Jin’s in a frat? Scratch that, the frat?” His face was the epitome of disbelief— eyes wide, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Seokjin. “My mans skinny as a twig, how is he out here with those guys?!”

Seokjin shrugged, unable to keep a smile from playing on his own lips. Mary let out an exasperated sigh, flopping into her office chair with a short grumble of words.

“So,” I started, glancing around the room to see all of their eyes had been averted back to me. “What i’m hearing is: we don’t have a cover story.” I let my words fall over the silence of the room— gauging everyone’s reaction.

The spring semester had just started, which meant stories were basically nonexistent. There was no interesting news to be told, because there was nothing interesting happening. Clubs were just getting started, most scandals were tamed or too old to even be considered news. Sport season was only just starting again, so that cut out all athletic stories. It was the great depression of Newspapers. A news article drought.

A chorus of agreements went around the room, making my shoulders sag with disappointment.

“What about the science club? Apparently they’ve been accepted into a famous science fair competition.” Finn suggested from across the room— his blonde hair was disheveled, probably from running his hands through it so much. “We could interview the president, Namjoon, and the star student Ju—”

I adjusted my glasses, flicking my eyes back to the white, blank screen of my word document. “We should wait until the competition is completed for that one. That way we can touch on the results- make a real story.” I kept my voice neutral, leaning back in my chair as silence, once again, filled the room. “We’ll keep that on the back burner.”

Mary threw her hands up, her curls bouncing with the movement.

“Then i’ve got nothing.” Finn shrugged, his face looking as blank as the current “article.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, mentally holding myself back from smashing my head against my desk. “Mary,” I kept my eyes glued to the computer screen “what all do you have on the frat story?”

I faintly heard a scoff coming from Jona, probably, and a low whistle from Seokjin.

I knew, just as everyone else, that the story wasn’t too complex- or even intriguing. But with no cover story there was no article, and this needed to be out by next week: at the latest. I looked up just as Mary bounced out of her chair, curls flinging wildly around her face.

“I’ll send all of my writing to you by the end of today!” She lisped out the words, voice full of excitement with a lower undertone of pride. In all fairness, this was her first cover story.

“Good, do that.” I watched as she moved around in a little dance— a smile tugging on the corners of my lips from the sight. “I’ll be heading out then, make sure to clean and lock up before you all leave.” I informed the crew, trying not to laugh at the scene of Mary attempting to rub her victory in the other two boys’ face.

“See ya’ boss.” Came Finn’s reply, flicking me a peace sign as I turned away.

Seokjin, as expected, followed me out only moments later. The air was warm, the beginning of spring manifesting itself in the weather. As expected, almost everyone was taking advantage of the sun: studying in the grass, unpacking picnics, while others had games of frisbee and soccer going.

As Seokjin and I walked, I ran over the previous conversation back and forth in my head. Despite the positive outcome, I couldn’t help myself from feeling a surge of disappointment at the lack of stories. A story like the one we were planning on writing, the one about the frat boys, was simply gossip.

“It’ll be okay.” Seokjin was staring at me— his face the perfect picture of calm and collected. He didn’t specify what he was talking about, but I knew right away. It always seemed like he could read my mind.

“I know,” The confidence in my voice was stronger than I was feeling. I clasped my hands loosely together, behind my back, as we walked. “You’re not mad, are you?” I was hesitant to ask: not really wanting to hear the answer. “I mean, this is about your frat house- your friends.”

He gave a light shrug— “A story is a story,” a pause was given in lieu to him bumping his side against mine. “Especially if it’s true. And who knows,” we passed a group of people playing guitar— having a jam session “maybe the story could help some of those who go too hard.”

I nodded along, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but then again— i’m not sure anyone besides Seokjin would think of it like that. He always looked at the world as if it were infinitely good— and everything was able to be fixed.

“So, your frat-” My attempt at pulling some details out of him was interrupted two boys from behind us.

A chorus of “Seokjin!”s rang in the air, pulling both me and the boy in question to a halt. We swiveled, almost in unison, to the duo walking behind us. A boy with striking orange hair, and a friendly face— accompanied by a hauntingly familiar mop of black hair, and a soft bunny smile.

I felt the air punch out of my lungs— eyes widening at the same moment that the boy, himself, glanced over at me. I watched his eyebrows knit together, an intense concentration flooding into his expression as he stared me down.

Seokjin was the first to speak, smiling lightly at the other two boys. “Jimin, Jungkook,” his voice held only amusement “‘m surprised to see you two up and moving after that party last night.”

The party last night. I flicked my gaze between Seokjin and Jungkook, the latter of the two still looking like he was trying answer the mysteries of the universe with every passing second.

The orange haired boy, the one who Seokjin nodded to first, Jimin- let out a laugh that held nothing but sunshine and friendliness. “It’s what we do, Jin-” His words were interrupted by the boy next to him.

“Do I know you?” The question had me blinking, and taking a step back all at once.

“No, you don’t.” I kept my voice firm— seeing the confusion in Seokjin’s face and the raise of eyebrow Jimin sported out of the corner of my eye.

“Are you sur-”

“Yes.” I interrupted, nodding my head along with the word.

“How sure?” He questioned again, looking utterly stumped.

“Pretty sure.” I squeaked out.

There was a long pause, no one daring to speak.

“Like what percentage of ‘sure’ are you at?”

“What?” I glanced over at Seokjin— watching him shrug back at me in response. He looked just about as miffed as Jungkook.

Jimin, once again, let out a loud laugh, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder as he did so. “Kook, you aren’t going to pull any girls with those lines.”

I flicked my eyes back to Jungkook who was biting his lip in obvious concentration, his head slightly tilted. The similarities from the previous night came so vividly that I found myself taking another step back. “I-I probably should get going…” I put lightly, bumping Seokjin’s side as a wordless goodbye.

Jungkook’s mouth dropped open— in either realization or protest, I couldn’t tell which. And, honestly, I wasn’t interested in staying to find out.

Seokjin nodded in response, mumbling something along the lines of ‘text me’ but i was too busy getting the hell out of there to take any real notice.

《                                        》

track: if you wanna stay - the griswolds

The walk to the bus stop felt much longer with the newest set of revelations on my mind. Jungkook. So that was his name. He was cute— in the way that, i’m sure, every girl recognizes.

I pushed my hands roughly through my hair— trying to simultaneously push the thoughts out as well. “Stupid Jungkook, stupid drunk knocking, stupi–”

My little rant was cut off by the doors of the bus opening in front of me— revealing a very bored looking bus driver staring at me expectantly. I hadn’t even heard the vehicle pull up, too lost in my own reverie. I nodded to the driver, pushing myself into the bus and picking the most familiar seat in the back corner.

It was a short bus ride, only 10 minutes, but enough time to finally stop thinking about that night. I made my way to the Flower Shop— walking in to be greeted by the soft smell of blooming flowers, and my mom, sitting behind the counter in deep conversation with a customer. I moved to the back storage room, grabbing a green apron and tying it around myself before starting with the plants.

Making my rounds around the shop, checking on flower pots and the progress of new blooms— it was a calming job. Easy to see why my mom loved it so much. There was also something so satisfying in being aide to the growth of something.

An hour or two passed, and my mom was yelling out a goodbye– giving me instructions like any normal day. I waved to her leaving figure, taking the spot behind the counter as more customers began to enter.

It was a busier day today, giving me a distraction that was well appreciated— and by closing time, I had almost forgotten completely about last night and the odd encounter with Jungkook today. As expected, no drunken knocks, or bunny smiles were thrown at me tonight. And locking up went as easy as it usually proved to be.

Replacing the relief I should’ve been feeling, there was another set of emotions. Too many to describe, though the familiar pull of disappointment hit me like a brick: surprising me more than anything else. I wasn’t sure what the disappointment was directed at anymore, but the feeling of it followed me the whole way home.