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Hiraeth | Part I
Jungkook x reader
Hiraeth: A longing for a home you can’t return to, or that never was.
Summary: It was confusing, the whole ordeal was. But no matter how many times you told yourself to go back, he was always there, taunting you to stay. Royalty AU
Genre: Smut, angst, minor fluff, some violence
Warnings: This is a multi part series that includes sexual themes and mature content.
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“How much for admission?”
“25 today, ma’am.”
She smiled, pulling out a 20 and a 5 from her wallet before handing it to the ticket clerk. He took them gently, replacing them with a wide blue and gold ticket for the museum. She thanked him before gathering her things and turning to walk inside.
She had always admired museums, though she never had any time to actually go. She had been quite a few times as a child with her parents, but now that she was older, and miles away from her family, work eventually caught up with her, and museums just seemed out of reach.
Regardless of that fact, art was something she could find solace in; she was a writer herself. She understood the lengths of time and energy one had to put into a piece of work, and that gave her a great sense of comfort as she walked inside.
Despite it being a Saturday morning, the building was fairly empty, with the exception of a few families here and there checking the pre-historic exhibits. She had her eyes set on the literature displays, which she desperately wanted to write about since last year when that section of the museum opened.
Clutching her notebook and pen close against her chest, she proceeded to follow the direction of the pamphlets map, trying to weave her way around the statues and memorials of artists.
She had been tasked with the assignment of writing about the new piece of writing found in the museums archives. Something about a hefty donor who had initially donated the piece after he discovered it on a backpacking through Europe trip with his friends. The rest of the story somewhat varies from source to source, and little to none is actually known about the piece of writing.
Finally stepping into the large vicinity of the literature department, she found herself smiling, allowing her eyes to trail over the scrolls dating back from England in the 15th and 16th century, and over some of the more modern pieces. A book perched on a stand under a glass casing caught her eye and she mindlessly gravitated towards it.
“Careful with that.”
She gasped, taking a step back and clenching her fist around her book-bag. Though the sight of the middle aged man standing before her caused her to let out a long sigh, wincing as she awkwardly laughed.
“Sorry, you really scared me there.”
His eyebrows furrowed together, “My apologies, you were just looking too close. Please make sure you’re outside the red tape.”
Red tape?
And then she looked down.
Oh, red tape.
Her feet took two steps back, until they were finally behind the displays limit.
“Sorry,” she smiled shyly.
“Ah it’s alright, it’s just that this one’s fairly new. Last week’s shipment.”
She let her eyes hover over the book again. It was closed, sadly, the contents of whatever was inside maybe never to be exposed. The cover was a red mahogany, which splayed the three letters of J.G.Q.
It was strange to say the least, an author she had never once heard of. Granted, she wasn’t a literature fanatic, and she certainly didn’t enjoy boasting about her supposed knowledge on books and authors but, she had at least prided herself on her remembrance of important novels and their creators.
This one had to have some importance if it was here.
“Is that the author?”
He nodded, taking a closer look at the book, “Not really sure what it’s about, just know that it’s pretty expensive.”
“How much was the bidding?”
“Ah,” he clicked his tongue, “Somewhere around the 70 million mark.”
“What? Yea, I’d say that’s pretty expensive,” she nearly choked. If she could recall, that was nearly as much as Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and that was a painting.
“Yea, we’ve had other museums try to claim it but the owner really wanted it displayed here,” he shrugged, leaning on the disinterested side.
She clasped her hands together in front of her jacket, smiling kindly at him, before thanking him for the information. He quickly got the hint and waved a goodbye, before leaving her alone with the book.
This was it, this was the one, the one she was purposed to write about. A gleaming shimmer of anticipation shone through her eyes as she quickly pulled out her notebook to write.
—
“Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am?”
Her body shook unexpectedly at the source of the quiet but urging voice. Locking eyes with the security guard, she began apologizing profusely, shaking her head at the sight that he had unfortunately caught her in.
She had managed to fall asleep in the middle of writing, pen still locked in hand, and body tiredly slumped against one of the stone benches near the book casing. It was covered now, blocking her view from the piece that lied underneath.
“Oh, it’s alright ma’am,” the guard started, his lips turning to the sides to expose his teeth, “It’s quite late though; the museums about to close soon.”
She hymned an okay, swallowing to coat the inside of her dry throat so she could properly speak to him.
“I’ll leave right now. Again, I’m very sorry,” she found purchase onto her bag, holding it up as some figurative shield against his scrutiny. He seemed kind enough however, and merely held up a hand to ease down her nerves.
“No need to apologize. We’ve had plenty of people doze off here. Art can get quite boring.”
Her brows knitted together, yet before she had any time to open her mouth to rebuff his statement that art was simply not boring, he had already sauntered off down the hallway, gesturing to the exit door across the room.
She followed his ushering, leaving quick without another word. How could someone work at a place full of art and mosaics and still have the audacity to call it boring. It rubbed her the wrong way, but she shrugged it off without a second’s remorse. Some people were just like that.
The notes she had taken hadn’t gotten too far either, and she bit her lip at the thought of returning again sometime next week, presumably after the guard could forget her face. She didn’t want the embarrassment of an encounter again.
Eventually, digging through her bag, her fingers found her car keys, and she sluggishly drew them out, making way to the parking lot on the other side of the building. But suddenly, the night’s gentle hush was crudely interrupted when a harsh scraping echoed from her right.
Better judgement called out to her, pleading for her to just continue onwards to her car but goddammit, she was too stubborn. Hugging her keys at the base of her chest, she neared the side of the museum, peering past one of the concrete pillars and into the alley where the trash bins were placed.
There, in the short distance of where her eyes were able to scan, were two darkly dressed men, hauling an oversized trash bag over their shoulders. They must’ve been taking out the trash.
Releasing a long breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in, she finally tore her eyes away from them, turning on her heel to get to ready to leave before her keys slipped past her fingers. With a clichéd clank, they hit the ground, captivating the attention of the two men.
Shit.
“Hey! You there!”
Shit shit shit.
Her jaw hung open, tongue continuously flicking over her teeth to find any words to say but they never seemed to come out. One of the men had already bolted in her direction, and while her heart sped up dangerously to breaking point, she couldn’t find the fight or flight response to move anything. They had both failed her and instead, she just froze.
“What did you see?” One of them harshly whispered, whipping his head back and forth to survey the area. She could only muster a small shake of her head. Nothing, I saw nothing.
“Relax man, you obviously scared her,” another gruff voice boomed from behind him. They both looked older, probably mid-thirties, and both had the same tired look over their faces.
“She saw us hauling around the bag!” He hissed at the other, clutching at her arm to keep her steady in place.
“I don’t…I don’t,” the stuttering mess tumbled out innocuously. The lesser of the tense two crouched down to her eye level, letting out an exasperated sigh before waving his hand at his partner.
“Just do it quick then.”
“What?” She yelped, clenching both her fists in an attempt to take control over her arm again.
One of them slugged off to the black trash bag, opening it casually before reaching deep into its contents. Her eyes widened at the sight of the red book being tugged out from the bag, before he walked back over.
“You’re going to do it with that?” The one still gripping her arm asked, his voice dripping venom. The one standing shrugged, “It’s the only thing that looks hard enough. You should’ve brought your bat.”
Everything they were saying seemed to go in one ear and out the other, an unfamiliar ringing replacing their bickering instead. The thumping of her heart beat pulsated to her face and she felt herself ready to combust with panic. But before those feelings could even settle within her, the standing man drew the book back past his shoulder.
She stared at him, anticipating the blow, until he finally fulfilled her worst thought and whipped it forward against her head, the last sight her eyes caught were the bold letterings of “J.G.Q.”
—
The fogginess soon cleared from her mind, a daydream like essence washing over her instead as she tried to take in whatever surroundings her eyes would let her. They struggled to adjust to the dim lighting but eventually, they roved over the room.
A layer of dust seemed to coat almost everything in sight, like a thick blanket, hiding the interiors of simplistic furniture. This room had to have been forgotten, or at least, drawn away to be forgotten.
She stood up, wincing at the painful throbbing in her head, and she raised an arm to tightly clutch around her forehead, trying to suppress a whimper.
“What the hell…”
It didn’t dawn on her before, but this certainly was not the alleyway behind the museum building. Though she had a fair history with panicking under strange and foreign circumstances, she used whatever strength was left in her to ease herself, at least until she could figure out exactly where she was and how she got here.
How long had it been since she was knocked out? How much did it induce her to forget? And what had she gotten herself into yet again?
Mentally thanking herself for never once loosening her grip on her book-bag, she pulled out its contents, double and triple checking if everything she had left her house with was with her now. The notebook, the pen, a couple of candy wrappers, her headphones and finally her cellphone, which she whipped out in an attempt to call whatever authorities she could.
Except, the time was off.
Surely it had to have been later on in the day, or at least week. But both the date and time were exactly the same as when she had checked leaving the museum. A string of muttered profanities escaped her lips as she tried desperately to dial any number, yet to no avail. Of course.
Pursing her lips, she shoved everything back into her bag, tightly zipping it shut before slinging the strap over her shoulder. There was no way she’d find answers in here, so without a pause for thought, she opted to leave the dusty room and proceeded towards the single wooden door.
Her heart nearly stopped when she found a long corridor extending to a large spiral staircase. This certainly did not look like any building structure she was familiar with. Everything felt too elegant, it felt too, old.
The hallway comprised a series of doors, each further than the last. One however, on the left side caught her eye. It was the only set of double doors in the hallway, probably for something or someone important. Every ounce of her being somehow felt it would’ve been wrong to stumble into that room, but she couldn’t shake off the curiosity within her.
Licking her lips, and holding her bag just a tad bit closer, she gently paced over to the doors, careful not to attract any attention to the light taps of her feet across the red carpeted floor.
When she finally reached the doors, she squeezed her eyes shut and took in a deep breath, reminding herself that she had to do this if she wanted to find out how on earth she wounded up here.
So she latched her hand on the knob and quickly pushed it open.
It was darker than the hallway, and with proper assessment, she concluded it had to be night passing by now, judging by the dark blue skies beyond the window across the room. Upon further inspection, and after walking inside, she swallowed thickly as she realized this was a bedroom.
An incredibly large one, might she add.
To the right, a queen sized bed was pushed against the wall, meeting its head-post. Four long pillars extended from each corner, holding up some kind of…tapestry? Drapery? It was hard to tell. To the left, a white sheer glossed door was closed, and right beside it, a folding wardrobe.
Drifting towards the accordion styled doors of the closet, she mindlessly opened one side, peering inside. It held men’s clothing, of various hues and gradients, yet the article that caused her blood to run cold, was the coat at the very end.
Embedded with a sequin of dazzling emblems and glitter, it carried some kind of regal feel to it. Almost as if this didn’t belong in her hands, or in anyone’s for that matter.
And then the door to the bedroom rattled and she froze dead in her spot, darting her head to the handle. Her body remained firmly glued to the ground, but her mind screamed at her to move, to hide, to do something. The sweat trickled over her forehead and if it weren’t for the rush of adrenaline coursing through veins, she would’ve cried. But there’s no time for that.
Tugging at her legs with her arms, she practically threw herself inside the closet, shutting it quick before sinking down in the farthest corner behind a rack of black lace trimmed boots. She cradled her head in her arms, whilst pulling her knees closer to her chest as she tried to steady her breathing to a complete halt.
The door opened. She could hear it. A grunt followed after.
Her body trembled in the darkness, silently waiting for the stranger to leave so she could escape. But she didn’t even know what she’d do after that. Who would she turn to? Who could she call? Not even her phone was functioning properly here and surely this wasn’t someplace where she was welcomed.
It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes, mindlessly waiting inside the closet, praying to whatever higher being that whoever was inside the room would not open the doors to reveal her hiding body. The sliver of light beneath the closet suddenly flickered out, and some shuffling could be heard on the other side.
Whoever it was, had gone to sleep.
She waited just a little bit more, hoping to make her escape sooner than later. Crawling over the boots, to the front, her hand carefully gripped the underside of the door, sliding it just crack open so she could slip out.
Eventually, her entire body finally made it out, and she shut her eyes, the concern too highly concentrated in her brain. Hands flailing over the carpet of the ground, she pushed herself upright, making sure not to breathe a single loud puff. It would be too risky.
But the universe had already made a point in proving she had the worst luck imaginable on earth, and while she was straightening out her clothes, the body in the bed adjacent to her sat up tiredly, bringing a hand to rub at their eyes.
She could only stare, hot pinpricks dotting all over her face until the body in the bed gasped.
It was a man. And he was gawking at her, angrily.
As soon as he could comprehend her presence and release a loud halting demand, she was running straight out of the room, with him on foot close behind.
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Part II