Originally posted on Ameri Lie's video: Spring Day (3/15/2020)

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Note: Plays with both Another Story and the Casual/Deep Story backstory for V. Mild headcanon territory.

[A One-Shot]

Ice thawed off of the shrubbery and trees. The rising sun shined on the tranquil pond of their garden, sparkling lights visible from the little he could view beyond the curtains.

Jumin savored these moments, it allowed him time to think of other things than his lessons and his family. The coolness that triumphed over their heater for example, seeping into the room and into his skin. While he had the thought of simply turning it up, mother once told him that experiencing the beginnings of spring was a once in a year type of deal that precocious children and sometimes adults indulged in.

He was seven, but even he wasn't immune to the temptation of snuggling into bed in mildly chilly morning.

Thirty minutes until the maid came into his room and started on his daily routine.

Jumin sighed softly and pushed himself up. His eyes wandered around his room, until they landed on the book he was reading last night. Slowly, he reached for the bookmark peeking from between the pages, fingers careful not to accidentally crease it.

It was the first gift among hundreds that he strangely couldn't let go of. Neither expensive nor custom-made from a shop, a four-leaf clover was pressed unto the plain yellow-tinted paper. The most eye-catching thing about it was the hand-drawn landscape at the back. Painted in watercolor, a lone sunflower drooped under the shade and grass. In the background stood the less detailed yet nonetheless impressive set of towering oak trees. It highly contrasted the wobbly cursive handwriting at the bottom edge of the bookmark.

His finger traced the words slowly.

To an everlasting friendship, from Jihyun.

Friendship, it was a hard concept to grasp in his head.

At most, there were a few people he could call close acquaintances from the various events he'd been brought to, and even less he could loosely classify a confidant. They were there to mingle and set in stone another generation that would lead the future, and as much as he wanted to try, there were little to none that could hold his attention for long.

Until the winter charity ball a month ago, where he'd met the boy named Jihyun Kim.

Son of a world-renowned violinist and a businessman, his introduction to their society had been as equally quiet as his first impression. He had a blank face which turned into a half-convincing smile whenever he was talking with others, short and soft in his responses. While he presented himself amicable, Jihyun gave off a distant vibe.

As someone other children called stone-faced when he'd get roped into chatting about inane subjects, Jihyun had him beat in spades.

When they had been grouped in twos for a hide-and-seek the host's daughter proposed, Jumin had the dubious pleasure of being paired up with him to hide. Suffice to say, he wasn't exactly uncomfortable with him. They didn't talk while they hid between two walls covered by bushes, but Jumin could tell he was being watched.

"Do you want to say something?" he asked in a low tone. Manners dictated that he would try, besides his Father's none-too-subtle hints.

Jihyun blinked at him, mind clearly racing. He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "... I'm sorry, I was just thinking. Please ignore me."

His words didn't line up with the agitated twitching of his hands, and Jihyun stuffed them both into his pockets. How curious. After a few seconds, Jumin cleared his throat. "It's best to speak your mind rather than deliberate for too long. It may help."

The other boy's gaze snapped back to him, and his expression was almost owlish. "You're rather blunt."

"You seem like the type to appreciate it."

Silence stretched on, and the other boy's staring had become a little too intense for his liking.

Maybe I'd misread him. It wouldn't be the first time, I must apologize later if he doesn't say anything first.

Jumin craned his head to the side to buy some time for a suitable response, watching the outside world from his peripherals. High-pitched screams and battle cries were ensuing, and soon followed laughter and declarations of challenges. Honestly, the leaps in logics - to be queen and king of seekers, and they were asking for rematches - were a fascinating study.

It was after a few seconds that a certain someone was chuckling behind him. Jumin raised an eyebrow at the sight. Eyes crinkled, the boy was bent over, an arm propped to the wall as he tried to control his soft laughter. When the fit subsided, that natural smile highlighted his cherub-like features, completely at odds with the former picture of artificial politeness.

"Thank you."

Jumin's brows furrowed. "For what exactly?"

"For confirming something for me." He waved his hand dismissively, and shuffled past him in their narrow hiding spot. "Come on, I think I heard them say it's time for lunch."

By the end of the event, Jumin wasn't able to ask what it was about. Any attempts were stonewalled by either Jihyun's vague reassurances or outside interference.

A month passed, and he almost forgot about the ordeal. Almost.

When Jumin received a small neatly-wrapped gift from the other boy, he was quite confused. He'd thought Jihyun decided that whatever interested him died down, and when he read the letter attached to the art book, the bits and pieces of the boy's daily life had drawn forth a picture that made his insides warm.

Mother once said, "You'll know when you've found a person you'll call a friend for life."

So maybe...

There was a knock on the door that brought him back to reality, and Jumin stashed the bookmark away.

Maybe he should write back soon.

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When he entered high school and thus a whole new spectrum for socializing, he expected nothing but the usual.

"Ease up, look, you've made that girl blush."

He tilted his head back to meet Jihyun's eyes, livelier than they've ever been in a decade. Nowadays, the boy was smiling more and became the duo's mouthpiece during any other interactions. It'd only been a half a year since his mother's death, and a little over two months since the fallout between him and his father.

A small part of him wondered if perhaps, her sacrifice re-awakened the little boy who sent the bookmark that started everything.

"I was thinking."

"Clearly."

Jumin swerved in his seat and leveled a look at him. He received a bland smile reminiscent of old times, and as if a switch had triggered, Jihyun stood up. "Well, come on, we should head over to the library instead."

"We finished our homework and essays. I'd thought you were tired of research," Jumin said.

"Then accompany me around the campus, I have a few things I want to photograph."

He patiently smiled back at Jumin's skepticism. This new Jihyun was going to take some time to get used to, but he didn't mind it all.

Jumin picked up his bag and stood. "Lead the way then."

It was only later when a random girl confronted him getting a 'Hana's' hope up that he realized why.

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After Rika's passing, it wasn't hard to notice Jihyun distancing himself.

Not that he couldn't claim to be taking time for himself either. Showering Elizabeth 3rd with presents and visiting the cherry farm relaxed him, and he re-opened shelved ideas for the production team to bring to fruition. Jihyun also had other obligations to fulfill - with his photography career as V continuing to grow, there'd been demands for interviews and the like - but he rarely saw him anymore. If not for the RFA messenger, V would have gone more than three months without a word.

When he did show up, the changes cut at his chest, yet Jumin could only be patient.

Lounging at a balcony, they savored the rhythm of the violin, and the soft whistles of the wind rustling the leaves. The chatter faded into white noise in their little isolated corner. Swirling the contents of his wine glass helped center him, and Jumin glanced to his side.

"Congratulations on the commission piece."

Those sunglasses made it harder to read his expression, but the embarrassed shrug was clear as day. "Thank you for introducing me to the new gallery manager. Their input has been invaluable."

Jumin nodded. "Any time."

Small talk occupied the rest of the night, petering into comfortable silence.

After finishing his fourth glass, V fiddled with his coat.

"Forgot your pipe?"

"It seems so." He stopped, then hesitantly, pulled a piece of chocolate candy from his pocket. Jumin blinked. That was one of Rika's favorite brands.

As if sensing his surprise, V held it up. His fingers played with the plastic, then he'd roll it in his palm the same way he'd do with an unlit pipe. "Rika didn't like the smell when she worked. Besides, she always told me to stop and care for my lungs more."

"As you should." It'd been a vice he picked up after another argument with his father a few years ago. Though he respected Jumin's stance and listened to his scoldings, it seemed only Rika ever got to the next step. "... Have you been resting enough lately?"

"Well enough, don't worry." The rawness in his tone faded.

"You haven't been active lately, so the other members have been wondering. I'd assured them that you're simply busy with your commissions, as did Luciel, but it''s better for them to hear it from you."

"Then I'll be on later." Popping the candy into his mouth, V carefully folded the wrapper and placed it back to his pocket. "Shall we head back in?"

V's hand gripped his cane, and though the urge to escort him was there, Jumin walked alongside him.

That was the last time he appeared in over six months. Being off-the-radar somewhere in the mountains, he worried if V's condition might deteriorate. He'd even called once to leave a will, and though the mere idea of such echoed pragmatism from his earlier years, his current state made it hard to stay on the sidelines.

Time would heal wounds, they said.

He should've done more.

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It was raining, and while Driver Kim offered to accompany him, Jumin wanted time to himself. Normally, he would appreciate rain as much as the entrance of spring like those memories of youth, but he had to be alone. He gripped both the umbrella's handle and the bouquet tighter, and walked.

The cool stone and the markings only made the pit in his stomach grow. Methodically, he replaced the old roses for the sunflowers, not minding the water seeping on to his pants.

"You know, if you didn't have the time to call or message us, you could have written." Only the soft pitter-patter of the rain answered back. "Though, you didn't want a paper trail that could harm us, did you?"

His glasses misted over. "Stubborn fool."