Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“For God’s sake, Jimin, you’re really going to take his side on this?”

Even muffled by the closed door of his bedroom, Yoongi’s voice is loud and clear. It wakes him suddenly. His eyes open on instinct, his heart speeding for some reason still unknown to his barely conscious mind. It dawns on him the next second and he closes his eyes, overwhelmed by memories and bitterness. He wants to fall back asleep and escape, but Yoongi’s words echo in his mind: “you’re really going to take his side on this?” It hurts because he can feel the sting in them. There are sides to take. Yoongi has chosen to stand on the opposite side of Seokjin. From there, his stance is clear: Seokjin did something wrong. No excuses nor legitimate reasons. No debating. 

Under the covers, Seokjin’s knees draw closer to his chest and his arm sneaks up to cover his face. The argument keeps going downstairs, in the kitchen, and Seokjin can’t ignore the voices nor the storm growing in his mind. 

He’s usually the first awake, but today, as he listens to the variety of voices involved the rampant argument downstairs, Seokjin realizes he’s last. His mind and body had been exhausted as he'd hit the mattress last night so he isn’t surprised to find that he hadn’t woken up at his usual time. 

“Don’t you get uncomfortable sometimes when they get too close too? What if she was being overbearing? You might have done the same thing.”

A snort and “I highly doubt that” follow Jimin’s words. It’s Hoseok this time.

Seokjin feels his cheeks heat up with shame. His fists clench and unclench, drawing semi-circles on his palms. He wants to slam them repeatedly against a wall until they’re bloody and useless. So quick to use them, aren’t you? Why can’t you hold back? He deserves his bandmates' anger. He almost revels in it, finds a twisted sort of solace and wonders how much more of it he can elicit. He can provoke them until they throw words and hands at him. Maybe that would set him on the right path. 

It could have gone some other way, he thinks. She approached him suddenly, whispering in his ear. He had felt her hand reach for his hip, nails digging slightly through his dress shirt. He had been clear and told her “don’t touch me, please,” trying to sound more courtly than panicked, trying to make it more like a demand and less like a plea. She hadn’t stopped, and maybe she had misinterpreted him and had not intended to corner him. Or maybe she had.

Her hands had wrapped around him, pushing him back slightly and making him hit the wall behind him. Maybe it had been the flashing lights of the posh nightclub, or maybe it was the fact that her eyes were similar to those of someone he had known a long time ago, but the look she gave him seemed to be filled with lust and mockery. It seemed to say, "you really think you can get rid of me that easily? ", and Seokjin had panicked. For a moment he was frozen, completely unable to move, then the present and the past had seemed to blur. One of her hands had reached under his shirt as the other had rested on the side of his neck, nails digging in his scalp. Seokjin can still feel the ghost of her hands on his skin, and a shiver runs down his spine. He pushes the heels of his hands against his eyelids.

Maybe that’s what happened, or maybe he imagined it. He doesn’t know. It hadn’t been clear. It is still not clear now. He knows he pushed her, hard, before he ran out. He could have slipped away from her grasp. He could have repeated himself, been more affirmative, more manly. He could have been more gentle. He could have acted rationally. But he didn’t. He was a coward, a child that didn’t know how to handle himself. He didn’t deserve the fame, the fans, the love. He didn’t deserve any of it when he couldn’t even treat someone with decency. With care. He wasn’t someone to look up to.

He had known something like this would happen someday, because it had happened before. It's a panic that leaves him unable to act rationally, but his body reacts without his permission. There had been witnesses before too, people ready to spread the story from all different points of view with such twists and turns that Seokjin couldn’t keep count of how many girls he had abused and humiliated, according to his classmates. It was bad then, with insults and shoves thrown his way. It was bad enough that he had to keep his head low, to always try to make himself smaller while staying alert. It was bad then, but it’s not comparable to how bad it is this time. This time, Seokjin is also Jin and Jin’s name is inevitably linked to BTS. Their every move is documented and analyzed, under the lens of millions. They are worth millions and are admired by millions. BTS is also his family, his closest friends, his brothers, the people who give his life meaning. 

He doesn’t want to ruin them. He doesn’t want to be the reason of BTS's downfall. He doesn’t want to be hated by millions. He doesn’t want to lose his brothers' love. Has he become a failure? It’s infuriating, how the past grips him and won’t let him go, won’t stop reminding him. Seokjin’s breath hitches and his chest starts to burn. He tries to reach for his heart as though it’ll bring him some sort of relief but it keeps pounding painfully and he can’t seem to get any air inside his lungs. Despite the heavy pounding that reverberates inside his skull, Seokjin catches Taehyung’s voice as it echoes lowly through the walls.

“All of you, listen. Jin’s violent tendencies date back to his high school days, witnesses report. ”

“That can’t be true,” Jungkook.

“I believe it,” Yoongi pipes in.

“Hyung,” Namjoon’s voice is clipped. 

“Come on, we all saw it!”

Seokjin can’t think, can’t process the words he just heard. There’s no way this is all coming back to haunt him. Again, the whole world will know, will see him as an aggressor. An abuser. Kim Seokjin hurts people. But Seokjin doesn’t hurt people, not intentionally. He’s not like that. 

He kicks the sheets and frantically slams the door open, feet carrying him in clumsy, hurried steps down the stairs and past the living room. He almost stumbles on his own feet a few times, can’t focus on where he’s going; there are spots in his vision and his head swims. He finally reaches the kitchen, oblivious to the heads that suddenly snap in his direction. He doesn’t know because his eyes only see Taehyung, Taehyung and his phone. He reaches for it, snatching it from the younger’s hands, and finally the words on the screen stare back at him, mocking him, swallowing him into a nightmare he never could have conceived. He feels like a fool. How had he not known this would happen? There’s an eerie silence, suddenly. The sounds of his own hitching breath had previously filled the room but now he can’t breathe at all. He can’t feel his legs. 

An aggressor. An abuser. A bully. 

His knees hit the hard kitchen floor and now he’s choking on nothing, aware of the pressure in his chest. His heart beats so heavily but his chest is too small so all he feels is crawling, tingling, and pain. He can’t contain anything inside his burning body. He hears voices, and Jimin and Namjoon’s blurry silhouettes dance in front of him. He grasps at their shoulders, trying to ask for help, but he can’t. He’s shaking his head, a few strands of hair falling and blocking his blurry sight. He needs to breathe. He wants to say so many things. He wants to ask them I’m not like that, am I? I’m not bad, am I? I’m not wrong, am I?

Maybe this is where he gives up. His career, his happiness, his brothers. This is what he did to himself. He was too weak to face reality before, but now he can’t stop it as it crashes down on him and everything he’s ever worked for. As he realizes this, his vision goes black, and his mind drifts.

*

When Seokjin wakes up for the second time that day, it’s only seconds after falling into Namjoon’s arms. The leader is shaking him slightly.

“Hyung! Jin hyung!”

As a response, he only groans, dazed. What happened? His chest is constricted. The tiles are cold under his hands.

Oh.

“Let go,” he finally says, breathing still labored as he pushes against Namjoon’s chest. “I’m okay.”

The younger only eyes him with a look that’s equal parts concern and disbelief. It’s not that Namjoon is good at reading people; it’s that the lie is too obvious. No one comments on it and his words are followed by a thick silence. It’s Jimin who breaks it.

“Hyung, what happened? What is all this about?”

It stings a little, the well hidden impatience in that voice. It's detectable enough to Seokjin's sensitive ears. From the corner of his eye, he spots a glass of water being pushed in his direction. It’s Jungkook. Before receiving it, Seokjin risks a glance around the room. Though he can see slight concern in his bandmates' eyes, he mostly senses the impatience in their lingering stares. They want explanations and they’re not too keen on waiting. Yoongi and Hoseok seem too tired for empathy, a frown etched deep in their brow and shoulders hunched but tense. He knows they feel just as responsible as Namjoon. They want to understand and find a solution sooner rather than later, and they're also not as agile as their leader at hiding their impatience. The latter, however, still manages to keep some warmth in his features. 

Seokjin raises a shaky hand to take the glass from their youngest and swallows a few gulps. His throat had been dry and tight. It helps. He sends a tight smile to Jungkook and the younger reciprocates. 

“What do you think? They’re just rumors.” He follows this with a small chuckle. “People look for attention wherever they can get it.”

And it’s not exactly a lie. It’s just that it’s not exactly an answer. Seokjin knows this, but he won’t offer anything more. They’ll have to understand. If they don’t, Seokjin’s not too sure what he can do. He knows he fucked up. He knows how much trouble he’s bringing to the group, to the company. What’s the use of providing explanations though? This is not exactly how Seokjin would like to have a heart-to-heart about an event that’s haunted him from his school years and well into adulthood. Even if Seokjin wanted to, he’s not sure he could do it. Though he hates himself, he also hates the world a little right now.

“What about yesterday though? You pushed that woman so hard her head bounced off the fucking wall! Are those rumors too?” Yoongi's voice sounds a few decibels too loud in their small kitchen and it echoes in his pounding head. As he takes in Yoongi’s words and his piercing gaze, Seokjin feels burning hot, an unpleasant mix of shame and rage pulsating behind his eyes.

“She just had to get off when I told her to. Her breath was disgusting too,” Seokjin says, biting, surprising himself as well as his band mates. As he speaks, he picks himself off the floor, setting the glass of water on the counter. Everyone seems to be speechless. Good. He can head to the shower first. Before disappearing into the hallway, Seokjin turns around with a second thought.

“Ah, we should probably think of a story to make this look better. I’m sure Sejin hyung can help!” Before he can take back his words, second guess his actions, or see the anger or contempt in any of his bandmates' eyes, he turns back around and walks out.

Chapter Text

Yoongi’s stunned. All of them are as Seokjin walks out of the kitchen, seemingly unaffected. Of course, Yoongi knows better. Moments ago, Seokjin had burst in through that same threshold, eyes wild and breathing out of control. He’d snatched Taehyung’s phone right out of his hands then had seemed so out of it that he had fainted right in front of their eyes. And it’s not like Yoongi can judge him for it. It seems like a full quiver of arrows are about to shoot them straight where it hurts the most: their career.

Yoongi tries to be reasonable about it, to remember that this is why they’re all on edge, and that it’s nothing personal. It’s not that Seokjin did something to hurt them, it’s just that they want to avoid any disastrous repercussions. This is why their hyung’s behaviour is so unsettling. Why did he, just now, seem to decide that this matter was something to brush off so easily? At the very least, why was he pretending it was?

Yoongi had seen it happen. Jungkook, Jimin, Seokjin and himself had reserved a private room at one of their preferred spots in Gangnam. They’d brought along Yeonjun and Soobin, the eldest of TXT, and Jungkook and Jimin had invited some friends from their respective social circles. The room had been pretty crowded, come midnight, with a few women scattered about. That was okay though, because everyone there wanted to be safe from prying eyes. They’re people who keep the same standards of privacy because it’s in everyone’s best interest that things stay on the low. 

Yoongi had been sipping on a Pepsi; he’d wanted to stay sober and on the lookout. He was also overly aware of the weariness in his bones and the dance practice they’d have to pull through in the morning. Looking around the room, he’d noticed his hyung’s absence. Hobeom, the unlucky manager who’d had to stick with them for the night, was still there though, chatting away in a smalI circle and probably unaware that Seokjin had left the room. It was slightly irritating, when one of them left without warning. Yoongi, more than anyone, understands the need for some air, for some space, and in all honesty they’d all done it time and time again. They’re not supposed to though. Their status as idols and as part of a larger team requires them to be careful, to stay alert, to keep a someone else close when there are so many people around.

This is why Yoongi had walked up to Jimin, interrupting his conversation with Yeonjun and some strangers, asking if he knew where Seokjin was. Jimin had said he’d seen their hyung go out a few minutes ago, but hadn’t known where to. A bit uneasy, both had walked up to the door to glance around the hallway. That’s when they’d seen it: Seokjin and some woman pressed against the wall a few feet from the door. Yoongi’s blood had run cold. 

The place was supposed to be safe for them, but the hallway that led to the room they’d been in could be seen through a glass wall from the dance floor below, and the scene had been too good. Seokjin’s mask had been pulled down, no hat nor hoodie. Seokjin, eldest member of BTS, was seemingly getting intimate with a female in a club in Gangnam. The entertainment industry in Korea would eat this up like candy. They’ve been waiting to jump on them, eat them alive at the slightest misstep, and a sneak peak of this scene would be all it takes.

Before either Jimin or himself could react, the woman had flown across the hallway, head meeting the glass wall behind her with a loud bang. A security guard that had been standing nearby had immediately rushed to Seokjin, but the latter had already been sprinting down the hallway, so the man had made towards the woman instead. Yoongi, stunned, had stopped Jimin from running after their friend. 

“Go get Gukkie, then hyung. Then go home,” Yoongi had ordered. For a second, Jimin had hesitated, like he’d wanted to argue, but then he’d gone back inside. Yoongi had caught Hobeom walking up to him then, and before rushing out of the room, he’d signaled their manager to follow him. He’d made sure his mask was on and his hoodie up, not wanting to take any more risks.

In the hallway, the woman had been clutching the back of her head with a painful grimace on her face, the security guard next to him visibly worried. As Yoongi had approached them, he’d heard the man asking for help over the walkie talkie pinned to his black uniform.

“Good evening,” Yoongi had greeted them courtly, crouching beside the woman. “I want to apologize on behalf of my friend,” he’d offered her sincerely, hoping to gauge her mood. Unsurprisingly, the woman had looked at him sternly, visibly upset. Hobeom had reached him then, standing over Yoongi and the woman with a puzzled look.

“One of the young men in your room just violently pushed this woman. She’s hurt,” the security guard had informed Hobeom when he’d caught his worried eyes, sensing he was the person he ought to address.

“I’m okay,” the woman had corrected the guard. “I didn’t expect that but I’m okay,” she’d explained.

Yoongi and Hobeom had talked things through with both the woman and the guard, whose position at the door had been replaced. They’d apologized thoroughly, offering their company card to the former in case she wanted any compensation or to undertake any legal action. As non-confrontational as they’d wanted the exchange to remain, Hobeom still had to warn her that any action that could defame BTS would be legally countered by Big Hit. The woman, though upset, had not seemed up for a vengeance, and Yoongi had thanked the Lord for small mercies. Because they’d wanted to leave on a good note, they’d made a bit of small talk before finally bowing and taking their leave.

On the way home, Yoongi had pondered on the whole thing, trying to figure out what could have happened. All sorts of scenarios had crossed his mind. Had the woman said something to upset Seokjin? Had she tried to blackmail him or BTS? She hadn’t offered any explanations to Yoongi, and he hadn’t wanted to push his luck, so he hadn’t asked. If she’d had any ill intentions, why did she not manifest them in front of Yoongi and Hobeom when she’d had the occasion to get something from them?

Despite everything, Yoongi had known there must have been a reasonable explanation. Yoongi had never seen Seokjin be so aggressive, so unfriendly. Maybe it’d been the fact that she’d gotten too close for comfort. After all, it had made sense for Seokjin to attempt to get her off. However, it had certainly been excessive use of force, no matter what she’d said or done. What had disappointed him the most was how his hyung had ran, like a coward. He’d obviously made a mistake, so why had he not stayed to apologize and face the consequences? Yoongi thinks Seokjin is old enough to take responsibility for his actions instead of letting other people deal with the mess he’s made.

And the consequences turn out to be substantial. Just as he’d feared, someone had been filming, and the incident had just happened to be caught on camera, in the background of a video which had gone around the globe now too many times to count. When Namjoon had woken him up this morning, barging inside his room with his phone in hand, Yoongi had known. They were fucked. 

Now, as they stand around in the kitchen, a heavy silence hanging in the aftermath of Seokjin’s strange parting, Yoongi starts to feel resentment build up inside of him, making it hard to think rationally. Not only had his hyung left their room without warning, gotten intimate with a woman and fled after causing such a scene, but now he intends to keep fleeing, clowning them all like this isn’t an enormous scandal that could put their careers on hold for who knows how long? And this article about Seokjin’s ‘violent tendencies’ had been the cherry on top of this monumental mess. Yoongi doesn’t buy it for a second, but he’d been too upset to defend their eldest. Namjoon’s voice as he speaks through the phone interrupts his internal monologue, and most likely those of every single person in the room.

“Hello? Yes, Sejin hyung. Okay. We’ll be there soon,” with that, Namjoon hangs up, and now they’re all looking at him, expectant, eager to know what they should do now.

“Sejin hyung wants us to meet before dance practice. He’ll be there with the other managers. We’ll talk this through and find a solution, so all of you stop with the funeral faces and let’s get ready to go,” Namjoon announces, trying to sound more cheery than he feels. They all know it, but they’re grateful for it. As the rest of them scatter around the house, the leader walks up to Yoongi.

“Hyung, could you tell Jin hyung about the meeting? Go up and try to talk some sense into him before this whole thing turns into an even bigger chaos,” Namjoon asks him, like he’s asking for the world, like talking sense into their hyung is equivalent to hanging the moon and the stars. 

They both know why that is, and it’s not that Seokjin is easy to anger or prone to violence. It’s actually the exact opposite. It’s that their hyung is so horribly averse to confrontation that he denies it even as it slaps him in the face. It’s that Seokjin knows how to tell a joke but he doesn’t know when not to. Though it’s endearing at times, this attitude can result in more frustration and anger when there’s a serious issue at hand. Right now, they can’t afford that. BTS and their team has got enough on their plate, and they need all of them to face this head on. 

With this in mind, Yoongi downs his now cold coffee and walks up to Seokjin’s room, sitting down on his bed and waiting for him to get back out of the shower.

*

Seokjin hadn’t really thought about the fact that he actually has to shower now. Anything beyond the panic and his instinct to keep walking away is a big blur. Still on autopilot, Seokjin picks out an outfit for the day along with a towel before walking straight to the bathroom and locking himself in. There, he finally feels himself deflate as he rests his back on the door he just shut behind himself. He doesn’t know what came over him, only that indifference seemed like the easiest way out. If he shows how much this is affecting him, he’ll be opening the lid to a box he doesn’t know the contents of. He’s kept it closed and buried in the farthest recess of his mind for so long that the thought of letting it all out is too terrifying to consider. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, how he can fix any of this. 

He wonders what happened between the moment he ran yesterday night and this very moment. He wonders if that woman is okay, if he really hurt her, and if she was scared. Jimin and Jungkook had ran after him and, on the way home, after too much pestering from them and enough silence from himself, they had left it alone. Yoongi and Hobeom had had to deal with the aftermath then, since only the five of them had been there. But...where did the article come from? Did that she reveal something on social media which caused his old demons to resurface? Did someone film him? The club they went to has very restricted access. This is why they’ve gone there the few times they’ve wanted to blow off some steam on their days off. It was supposed to be safe. 

It’s then that the realization dawns on him; he never feels safe. It’s himself, this thing inside him that spirals out of control and that keeps him on his toes. He’s always been scared of not being able to contain it anymore. He knows he’s been ignoring it for too long, and it’s been pestering at him for a while, but idol life has kept him busy, enough to be able to pretend it never happened, and that there was no party and no drugs.

No dark bedroom. No shadows. No sting on his cheeks and chest and thighs.

No. Nothing.

He strips himself naked before turning the tap as far as it will go. If the water scalds his skin and turns it red and hurts him, Seokjin only barely registers it. As he scrubs himself raw, trying to get rid of a layer of skin that feels foreign and unwelcome, heavy and repulsive, Seokjin reminds himself how he’s been surviving these last few years. I’ve been doing okay. It’s not a big deal. I’ll apologize and then this won’t happen again.

But that thing that he’s been trying to bury deep within himself is bubbling just beneath the surface and all those moments where he could barely contain himself mock him. Whenever a fan has gotten too close or whenever a stylist fixes his clothes or hair without warning, he feels his heart jump inside his ribcage. No one’s ever noticed because he’s a better actor than he’s given credit for. Outside of the stage and behind the cameras, Seokjin can put up an act. He can pretend he’s happy when he’s sad, excited when he’s tired and calm when he’s been startled. There’s a limit though, to how much Seokjin can keep fighting against the rising tide before it pulls him under. As the thought hits him, Seokjin finally decides his skin has been through enough for the day, and he walks out of the shower, quick to dry up and get dressed. 

He knows that he can’t keep these feelings at bay any longer, tells himself he’ll try his best to be honest. He doesn’t need to say everything, to look inside himself, but he’ll say just enough to not be a liar, to let his brothers know he means well. He’s scared though. Very much. Even more so when he walks inside his room to find Yoongi sitting there, seemingly waiting for him.

Chapter Text

“Do you really believe what they’re saying?”

Seokjin has had the question on the tip of his tongue since he’d heard Yoongi say it this morning. It may not be the right time. He knows this. He knows a lot of things that he’d rather not think about. He knows the hardest part is yet to come. So he asks. He really would rather know where he stands. Yoongi doesn’t seem to agree though.

“You really think that’s what matters right now?”

Yes. Yes, he does. Seokjin very much thinks that matters because Yoongi’s someone he’d give anything and everything for. Along with the rest of BTS, his parents and his older brother, Yoongi is family. He needs to know they trust him, that he can keep going forward, fight his way with them and not despite them. He doesn’t answer though, because he knows it’s rhetorical.

“Look, hyung. What’s done is done and there is no going back, but we need you to cooperate. Sejin hyung called a meeting. You’ll have to give explanations, and not the cheap ones you just used to get rid of us.”

At his friend’s words, Seokjin can’t help the blush that rushes all the way up his neck and ears. His first instinct is to defend himself. I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. But he was. He can’t deny that with a straight face. How ridiculous would that make him look? He feels so cornered. Yoongi’s only being truthful but Seokjin, despite being the hyung, feels like a scolded child. Seokjin’s being a burden. He knows. It’s not like he doesn’t see it.

“Did Namjoon put you up to this? Ah! What shall we do with that hyung? Maybe Yoongi hyung can stop him from ruining our careers. ”

It’s not what he’d meant to say, or where he’d intended this to go, but there’s something boiling inside him that he can’t seem stop. Yoongi’s all business up here in his bedroom, like Seokjin isn’t burning in his own personal brand of hell. Like he doesn’t want this to get solved more than anyone. Even if this all dies down and BTS makes it through, Seokjin doesn’t know where he’ll be then, what he’ll make of himself.

Yoongi seems taken aback by his answer. Seokjin’s good at deviating from the topic in times of conflict but he usually does it to alleviate tension, not to rise it.

“Well, I pretty much did, yesterday. Or at least I tried. That's more than can be said for yourself,” Yoongi answers bitterly, standing to look Seokjin straight in the eye like he’s waiting for the words to hit. 

For a second, Seokjin sees himself back there again, cornered, a hand on his hips, then running with his heart in his throat, leaning against a wall in a staircase and trying to swallow down the bile threatening to climb up his guts. But then he’s back and Yoongi is right there, in front of him. And the words hit him, an unwelcome wake up call. It’s a hit to Seokjin’s pride. He’s hoping to make the elder deflate, make him see the magnitude of his actions. Seokjin does see it. The shame that had been weighing on him is crushing now. 

“What do you want to hear? That I’m sorry? Because I am! I am sorry!” Seokjin snaps, tone rising as he walks closer to Yoongi. He hates how vulnerable he feels, how out of control he must look. Why can’t he handle the pressure? Why can’t he discuss things like an adult? Why did he do something so cowardly? 

If the latter hears his voice break, he doesn’t let on. His expression is unreadable. Seokjin doesn’t want an answer though. He only wants to be left alone.

“Get out, Yoongi. I’ll come down soon.” 

It’s all he can manage with the knot that’s growing in his chest. The pressure behind his eyeballs is building up and he doesn’t think he can hold back much longer under Yoongi’s cold gaze. When the blonde finally walks past him and out the door, Seokjin barely makes it to his bed before his knees give in. Only the four walls that surround him can bear witness to the lone tear that falls down his cheek before it disappears in the cotton of his shirt.

The car ride is tense. Nobody speaks but the silence feels loud, filled with unsaid words and ominous thoughts. It’s evident in the fidgeting hands, the shaking legs, the deep frowns, the almost frenzied phone scrolling. Seokjin won’t do any of that. He keeps his gaze locked on the window, arms crossed and hands balled under his armpits. Only the lip squeezed mercilessly between his front teeth and his unusually frequent blinking give him away.

Despite how strongly Seokjin wishes it away, the moment comes where they’re all sitting around a conference table along with their managers and Bang Si-Hyuk himself. It’s not often that the CEO graces them with his presence, these days, but this seems to be an unmissable occasion. Seokjin braces himself, not sure where he stands or what he feels. Every resolution he’d made in the privacy of his washroom flies out the window with the amount of eyes that scrutinize him at this very moment. 

Their CEO gives a short debrief of the situation before informing them that a few steps have already been taken to diminish the damage. Seokjin can imagine it involves contacting people and offering large amounts of money but he also knows it’s not his place to ask (that, and Seokjin has absolutely no interest in knowing).

“We don’t know what happened but I can’t imagine you have any excuse that will look good on a news article,” Sejin speaks this time, a stern look thrown his way, “so we’re taking another route. We’re saying it wasn’t you.”

Skeptical looks are exchanged around the room. Seokjin can see it on his periphery even though he keeps his gaze locked right on the middle of the silverwood table. His red ears give him away though, but it’s not skepticism but shame, so profound and so fervent that it makes his stomach turn. 

“The image is blurry and only a few seconds in the background. The public doesn’t know any of you were there that night. We were able to reach out to Choi-ssi, the lady in the video, and she’s willing to back us up.”

Definitely loads of money involved here.

Finally, though, comes the moment Seokjin has most been dreading.

“The article, however, is a more delicate topic…”

The words are left hanging, and if the tension wasn’t tangible before, now it can be cut with a knife. It feels heavy and dreadful and it makes Seokjin wish the ground would open and swallow him whole. If he felt scrutinized before, now Seokjin feels like there are eyes all around the room piercing him, trying to pick him apart and lay him out to dry.

“Seokjin…” 

He looks up. The lack of formalities, the tone, and the look the CEO gives him, a mix of frustration, confusion and concern, remind Seokjin how long he’s worked with this man, how much trust the older has put on him. The mere thought makes his eyes glass over before he blinks away the extra moisture.

“We’re going to need your help here. We can’t proceed without more details.”

*

Seokjin’s feet carry him away from the crowd and the noise and the pretty golden LED lights that had been scattered all over the floor. Actually, it’s not so much his feet as those of the two shadowy figures standing by his sides, hoisting him up by his waist. They carry him up a dark staircase as loud cheers erupt from behind him and Seokjin vaguely wonders if they’re cheering for him. He knows they’re his schoolmates, somehow. As they go to an all-boys school, his friends always talk about how this is the only way to get some action. Seokjin kind of agrees, but he’s also never been too eager, never gotten past an awkward blow job in the bathroom. Right now, all he wants is to drop dead on any vertical surface.

“Fuck, you’re too heavy! Can’t you help us a little?”

The shadowy figure on his left speaks right next to his ear, too loudly, and Seokjin cowers slightly and tries to pull away from the harsh sound. His head aches.

“I-I c-can’t...do it…” Seokjin’s voice slurs, his tongue struggling to twist and curl in his lax mouth. He can recognize a vague sensation of unease, itching at the back of his head and the bottom of his stomach. He knows something’s not quite right but his mind won’t cooperate.

When they finally reach the top of the stairs, Seokjin is half-walked half-dragged through a corridor on the left and again through a door on their right. Ah! There’s a bed!

The boy is beyond relieved when his back hits the soft surface beneath him. His body feels weak, his muscles refuse to respond, and his head is pounding. He knows being drunk has never felt like this, and as he looks up and finds the two figures looming over him in the darkness of the bedroom, Seokjin finally feels that vague sense of unease escalate to something akin to fear.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard. Was it?” One of them says, walking up to sit beside Seokjin’s head. A hand comes up to comb through Seokjin’s sweaty hair. ‘Get away from me,’ he thinks, but he can’t find his voice so he only pulls away slightly, trying to avoid reigniting the pain in his skull.

“Seokjin oppa! Don't worry. We'll take good care of you!”

That’s alarming. Somehow, through the fog and the wariness and the discomfort, the words reach him and send shivers down his spine. Immediately, his adrenaline spikes and he’s struggling to get to his feet. He wants to get out. But his body doesn’t agree. The sudden movement has his head spinning and his arms won’t lift his weight. That, and there’s now hands on his shoulders, pushing him down and effectively immobilizing him.

“Easy, easy there Seokjin-ah. I don’t think that’s such a good idea," the shadow beside him says, the one whose hands push him down. "You just lay there for a bit. You must be tired.”  Her voice, though draped in honey, alarms Seokjin further. They gave him something. His drink, there was something in it.

“Let…let g-go...” He’s breathless from enunciating those few words and it’s only then that Seokjin feels the weight in his chest, how difficult it is to breathe. His plea goes unanswered as the other figure, who’d disappeared for a moment, comes back into view.

“Unnie, we should probably use these before he starts any trouble.”

What does she mean? What are ‘these’? With two hands still pushing him down, Seokjin tries to struggle out of the grasp. His legs kick weakly in an attempt to back up and slip from under the hold when he sees two loops dangling by a chain in her hand. They can’t put those on him. No. No no no no.

"Please..."

But it's merely a whisper.

A loud cackle interrupts him and his head turns sluggishly to his other side. No one's listening.

“I’m impressed, Soo-ah! You came prepared. Where’d you find those?”

Seokjin barely registers the words ‘parents’ and ‘closet’ while his mind tries to process his current predicament. He can’t though, all he can manage is, despite the dizziness and the pounding in his head, to kick and punch aimlessly. He tries to scream for help but his voice comes out breathy and low. His movements are sluggish and weak, his limbs moving like the last current of electricity leaving a dying battery. He feels his foot connecting with a rib though, and he’s free for an instant before there’s a burning sting on his cheek accompanied by a resounding snap. His head spins, pain flowing through him in waves.

Tears spring to his eyes then, pain, terror and humiliation finally invading him. How can he be so helpless? Why is no one coming? Please, anyone. Before he can react, he’s being tossed unto his stomach with the weight of two bodies pinning him down. There’s a hand covering his mouth and a knee pushing down between his shoulder blades. His breaths come hard, in short pants, tears now overflowing. There's a click as something snaps around his left wrist, then a pull, a hand on his right arm, and another click. 

Seokjin’s shaking when the weights lift off, breaths shuddering, and he buries his face in the sheets in an attempt to hide his tears and muffle his involuntary cries. His hands are effectively shackled behind his back. 

When Seokjin’s forced face up and the taller of the two figures climbs on his torso and leans in, looming completely over him, he finally sees her eyes. Only her eyes. They’re dark and they freeze him, leave his muscles locked in as his breath catches in his throat. It’s not that they’re evil or murderous, but he can see himself in them. Through a muddled mind, he sees his own red eyes: wide, glassy. Yet, the look she gives him is nothing but lust and mockery. 

“Aw, Jin-ah, why can’t you just enjoy it while it lasts?”, she says as her hand comes up to grip his jaw. He shudders, hates the feeling that spreads through him, like his whole being could fit in the palm of her hand.

Her words hurt too, make him feel like maybe he should want this, like maybe he did something to end up here, in this situation. They make him think of what is going to happen, what he can’t stop now, and his lips tremble despite how hard he’s biting onto them, a fresh wave of tears trickling down the sides of his face. They tickle his burning ears as they fall.

There are lips on his then, a tongue that invades his mouth, teeth that bite, hands that touch, grip, scratch, burn. He can’t get them off no matter how much he cowers and resists. He’s weak. His mind can barely keep up with the reality of the situation, the touches only registering because disgust and humiliation settle too deep in his bones to ignore.

They’re ridding him of his top, getting closer to his waist, and the shivers that were traveling down his spine now make his muscles twitch. He’s shaking, cold. So fucking cold. A hand presses down on his neck so that when another slips under the waistband of his boxers and a scream tries to escape him, it dies before it can be heard. It’s merely a whine, a sounds foreign and broken, and he forgets it the moment a hand grips him between his legs.

It's hard to tell what happens after that.

Chapter Text

It’s dizzying, the amount of thoughts that cross Seokjin’s mind. The details that make his skin tingle are not the ‘details’ Bang Si-Hyuk needs to know about. The thing is, Seokjin’s not too sure what needs to be known, what needs to be said. It’s not like anybody’s even asked him a simple ‘are you okay?’ or ‘how are you feeling?’ —beside Jimin yesterday night when Seokjin was too nauseated to even speak. He can feel it profoundly, the detachment, the sort of business like attitude that reminds him of Yoongi staring him down in his bedroom. If Seokjin says that it happened once a long time ago, that he doesn’t know exactly what people are saying, that he can’t tell how much of it is true, what will they say? Will he be blamed, shamed further than he is? He knows what it looks like: reckless. But he’s sure the why is not important right now. Not what anyone wants to know. The whole story, like Sejin said, is not something that would look good on a news article. 

“I’m...I…” He clears his throat, plays with the ring on his index finger. “Sorry, I’m just not sure exactly what you want to know? I mean, uh, yeah something like this happened. Back in my senior year.”

It’s funny, how synchronized the heavy sighs that fill the room are. And it’s surprising to Seokjin that he finds humour in it and bites his bottom lip to keep a chuckle from escaping. He wonders when the next time will be that he finds something genuinely funny, not cynically. He never even stopped laughing, all those years back. It’s only now that Seokjin feels like he never might really mean it again. That thought and the CEO’s incredulous look wipe any trace of a smile right out of his face. The older man looks like he wants to scold him, but doesn’t. Seokjin’s sure he will get onto that later.

“I doubt it, since we haven’t come across any visual proof, but do you think anyone caught it on camera?”

“I don’t believe so,” he replies. He hopes so, more than anything. How disastrous would that be? People are talking, nonetheless, people that were there. It’s enough to ruin Seokjin’s name.

Can I stay? Will I be able to stay? Should I leave on my own? Do they want me to leave?

“Can you briefly tell us what happened?”

Seokjin remains motionless, hands frozen and sight blurring like it does when when it stays on the same spot for too long. What happened, Seokjin? 

What happened is that I hadn’t slept for days because every time I closed my eyes I was back there again. What happened is that she reminded me of what I needed to forget. What happened is that she was there again with those same hands and that same voice and she came without warning.

‘Seokjin oppa! I missed you!’

“I was walking home after school and, the girl, she jumped me from behind. I think it was, like, a hug? But I was really startled. I…”

He pauses. 

Why should I feel ashamed? How could she expect anything else from me?  

‘But you liked it, that night. Didn’t you? The body doesn’t lie. You’re a liar. Why are you lying to yourself?’

She didn’t say that, though? Did she?

“Yes, Seokjin?”

“It wasn’t a good moment for me. I didn’t expect...I just pushed her off of me, and she fell on the pavement. There were a few students around who rushed to help. I just...I left.”

Disappointment. All he can feel is disappointment, from every angle. From his chest that grows numb.

‘Worldwide Handsome, Kim Seokjin, that’s what you call yourself, like you want everyone to have a piece. You’re such a...’

I don’t. I’m not. No.

‘Really?’

“Hyung!” Namjoon brings him back, and he lands harshly back in this moment with his friend’s irritated voice.

“Did you know her? Did you ever apologize?”

Seokjin realizes Sejin is exasperated, probably from repeating himself, so he answers quickly.

“We’d met before, but we weren’t...we weren’t friendly. We never spoke again.”

‘You were too busy trying to make a career out of that pretty face.’

No.

‘You’re such a…’

No.

‘Whore. That’s what you are. That’s why you became an idol.’

Stop!

‘You’re good at it, too. Did you miss our attention?’

Seokjin wants to crawl out of his body, pull his hair out, hide under the table. Why is this happening? This has never happened before. Where did she come from? 

He knows, though. She put her foot in the door yesterday night when that woman’s hand locked on the curve of his neck, crawled in slowly during his sleep, made herself at home this morning in the shower, and now she’s taking over, right here in this room.

“Well, the point here is that you’re not on good terms, and that’s dangerous. First of all, you’ll have to meet both these women and apologize. We’re going to need your help to get in contact, as she hasn’t manifested herself on the media yet, not that we know of. We’re going to need her help to try and clear up this whole thing, so that’s a priority.”

The words hit him like a bucket of ice. ‘You’ll have to meet both these women and apologize .' He can’t help it when his eyes betray his rage. When he finally looks up, his eyes filled with fury, he doesn’t mean to direct it to anyone in particular. When he looks around the room and no one says anything, only seeming confused by the ice in his eyes, he doesn’t feel betrayed, but he doesn’t feel guilty either. It’s not something he can help, how he feels right now. It invades him so suddenly, he finds even himself taken aback. Why am I so angry?

It’s not fair. 

‘Are you a child? The world is not fair. Get over yourself.’

I will never apologize.

‘This is not about you. It never was.’

And he listens, this time. The ice in his eyes melts, replaced by fear. Maybe this is where Seokjin, immersed, drowning, loses his sense of direction. 

Which way is the surface, which is the bottom? In the darkness, it all looks the same.

“I will help in any way I can,” Seokjin says lowly. He has good faith. He’ll help even if it’s the hardest thing he’ll ever do. 

“Seokjin...I think you know how much stress and work this means for everyone here. This has put a serious strain on your careers. This can never happen again. You understand what I mean?”

“I do.”

If this happens again, you’re out. Any slight bump on the road and Seokjin will be out without a second thought. That’s what it means and Seokjin knows this. He knew it even before it was said, because that voice in his head, that voice from the darkness, maybe it’s right. It was never about him. Seokjin can go, and BTS will survive. How can he ever stop this from happening? He never wanted it in the first place. I didn’t want this.

“I think it’s only fair that you offer an apology to your bandmates and managers.”

“I’m truly sorry for all of this. I know… I know that my actions are affecting all of you, and for that I offer you my sincere apologies,” Seokjin stands up and bows. He stays bent over for a few seconds, his heart in his throat again.

You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

‘Until you lose control again.’

He straightens up.

“Is there anything else we need to know about, Seokjin?” the CEO asks with finality.

Is there? Is there anything else anyone needs to know?

“No, there isn’t.”

*

Jungkook hasn’t said anything because he’s the maknae and, despite how much he plays up his playful attitude for the camera, he also knows how to stand in the background and let his hyungs take the reins. He knows nobody’s asked for his opinion, but there’s a deep discomfort settling in his guts and making him nervous. His hyung, Seokjin, can he really be blamed for his reactions? Jungkook wasn’t there, he’s only been told about it, so he can only imagine what it looked like. He thinks it’s kind of unfair, though, because he’s sure his hyung had a good reason. 

And, despite everything, despite the wave of hate and criticism that’s coming and the trouble all of this is bringing onto their little family, Jungkook can’t help but want to be by his hyung’s side. Maybe Jungkook is too much of an optimist, but he believes Seokjin didn’t mean to hurt anyone and that he’s trying his best, like he always does, always has. He believes this and no one can make him believe otherwise. That’s why it pains him, how his hyung is being treated. He knows now is no time for coddling, for beating around the bush, but he wishes he could stand in front of Seokjin like a shield and sugarcoat Bang Si-Hyuk’s words, as well as Namjoon and Yoongi’s icy looks, so they don’t cut his hyung with their sharp edges.

After everything’s said and done, everyone but Seokjin and Sejin are dismissed. Jungkook and his hyungs walk down the hallway to wait for an elevator. Taehyung’s arm comes up to wrap around his shoulder and squeeze it lightly.

“You okay, Guk-ah?”

He only hums in response, looking up at his hyung to smile in reassurance.

“I know you’re worried about Jin hyung, but he’ll be okay.”

Taehyung has always been able to read him like a book. Taehyung can read anyone like a book. Maybe that’s why he’s saying this. Jungkook bites his lips, trying to stop himself from asking for more reassurance, but he fails.

“Are you sure about that?”

He regrets it immediately, because Taehyung looks down, breaking eye contact. Jungkook can feel the uncertainty there. Of course he’s not sure, you fool. How could he be?

Jungkook wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to lie, but Taehyung speaks before that.

“Of course. We’ll all be,” Taehyung affirms with a smile, but it’s a lie. 

Jungkook may not read people like a book and Taehyung may be one of the best actors he’s ever known but, because Jungkook expected him to lie, he knows. He can see it in the slightly awkward pull of his lips, in the too wide eyes.

Later, when Seokjin joins them in the dance studio, the atmosphere is still tense. Words are exchanged only when necessary, mistakes stop them more than usual, and their eyes barely meet, all of them too preoccupied with their thoughts. It gets worse once Seokjin joins, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. To Jungkook, he seems like a ticking bomb. He’s jittery, clumsy, and distracted. During a dance practice, it’s not something that can go unnoticed. Jungkook is fearfully waiting for something to give in. Someone will blow up. Jimin and Hoseok, who have been giving him cues to improve but have been rewarded with only half answers and more mistakes, seem to be tittering closest to the edge. Namjoon and Yoongi are not too far behind, only giving exasperated sighs every time Seokjin stumbles or moves too slowly. Taehyung, seemingly caught between Jungkook’s fear and the others’ exasperation, asks for a break after another 40 fruitless minutes of practice.

“We’re all trying our hardest, Hobie hyung, Jimin. Let’s come back to it in a few minutes, yeah?”

Hoseok, with one final look at their eldest, only nods once before walking out of the room for a moment.

Things seem to get worse instead of better as time passes. Jungkook can’t hold back anymore when, after his hyung steps on his feet for the nth time that day, Yoongi snaps a “hyung, will you please focus? We’re wasting time here.” He looks up to glare at the blonde. Yoongi only looks away, walking back to his initial position, ready to start the song again, but Seokjin has yet to stand, hands balled up in fists on the floor. Jungkook goes to pat his shoulder, but his hyung tenses and draws back instantly.

“Hyung…”

The elder doesn't look up, so Jungkook crouches down on the ground. Everyone stands still, seemingly too tired to intervene, to think anything of it.

“Are you okay?”

It takes a moment but, as an answer, Seokjin stands, muttering a hollow “yeah…sorry” before walking back to his own position. Though Jungkook tries to, Seokjin doesn’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t mean to be harsh, Jin hyung. It’s just that things are bad enough as it is and we just want to get this correctly so we can perform well. We’ll be busy in the next few days and it would be nice to go to bed tonight knowing that at least we got this down,” Namjoon explains, obviously trying to alleviate the tension. 

Jungkook knows that he’s not wrong. If they can’t do it right, they’ll have to practice again. They don’t have any more practices scheduled before filming, though, so it would mean sacrificing sleep and rest. Those are rare and precious commodities in idol life. However, the lengths they will go to protect them, right now, might not be worth it. At least that is what Jungkook thinks, looking at his hyung, still preoccupied by Seokjin’s reaction to his touch. He keeps this thought to himself.

“I get it, Joon-ah. I don’t want to be a burden either,” Seokjin says, monotone and distant, and it stings. It’s the most he’s said since he entered the room.

Jungkook can see the leader hesitate, his eyes moving left and right on the floor like there’s a monologue taking shape in his head. After a few seconds though, he seemingly decides against it and calls for the music again. Jungkook’s chest feels heavy. Shouldn’t at least one of them deny it?

No, hyung. You’re not a burden.

He stays quiet though, his hyungs' silence forbidding him from speaking. 

*

Seokjin’s been useless and a burden for a grand total of three hours now but he can’t say he wants it to end. Her voice is getting louder by the minute, his bandmates' comments and looks pushing him further into the darkness where she waits. Seokjin can’t count. 

‘It’s not about you. Just melt into the background. Stop wasting everyone’s time. Just look good. That’s all that’s ever needed of you.’

He can’t move and count and hear the music and smile. 

It’s coming. The moment is coming because they found her through social media and they’re contacting her as Seokjin tries and tries to escape into the music but he can’t. 

They said they’d contact her and try to get her here today. She’ll be here, inside this building, and he’ll have to sit across a table with her. He’ll have to look at her, see her again and apologize but Seokjin can’t care about the apologies. He wishes the fury that took over him earlier would come back but now all he feels is paralyzing fear. 

Maybe he can ask Namjoon to come with him? Namjoon is patient and he’s not part of the maknae line. He’ll feel pathetic if he needs to ask one of the younger ones to hold his hand and walk there with him, but maybe Namjoon or Hoseok can help?

‘No, forget Hoseok. Hoseok hates you right now.’

He doesn’t. Hoseok doesn’t hate me.

‘Why does he keep snapping at you? You’re being a burden.’

Namjoon thinks I’m a burden too…

‘See? Don’t be such a coward. Do it on your own.’

“Hyung, will you please focus? We’re wasting time here,” Yoongi’s voice shakes him. He’s on the ground again, doesn’t know how he got here. 

A hand lands on his shoulder and he draws back.

Don’t touch me.

“Hyung...are you okay?”

“Yeah...Sorry,” he mutters and walks back to his position. He’s touched, though he doesn’t show it. Jungkook’s words warm him for a little before Namjoon speaks.

‘See? You’re a burden. They all agree.’

They’re just tired. I’m making it harder for them.

‘You are. You really are.’

The door opens then and they all turn around. It’s Sejin.

“Kang Ji Soo-ssi is here. Come on. Let’s get this done with.”

Chapter Text

“Kang Ji Soo-ssi was strangely accommodating, Seokjin-ah. She told us she would be here as soon as possible, said she’d have no problem meeting with you.”

Sejin is talking. He keeps going on and on. Seokjin can’t listen, doesn’t care to. He’s thinking about his steps, moving his feet correctly one in front of the other. 

Again. And again. Keep going. Breathe. Keep moving. Another step. Breathe out. In again.

They’re standing in front of a wooden door. There’s a small see through window on it. Seokjin doesn’t look.

“I don’t think I need to tell you this but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

He turns slightly to look at Sejin. The elder seems taken aback somehow, maybe by the look in the singer’s eyes. Seokjin doesn’t blink.

“Let’s be courteous and professional. Give a sincere apology. Say what needs to be said and this will be over before we know it. The lawyer will insure everything’s legally settled,” Sejin says tiredly, rubbing at his temples then patting Seokjin on the shoulder. Unlike a few minutes earlier, with Jungkook, the touch has no effect. Nothing’s really registering, so he only nods. 

“You’ve got to be at the recording studio in 30 so let’s do this quick.”

The others have schedules, right now. Namjoon and Yoongi are writing. Jungkook and Taehyung are recording vocals. Hoseok is choreographing. Jimin is trying out costumes. He’ll have a photoshoot later. Seokjin hadn’t been able to ask anyone for anything. He can do this on his own.

Kang Ji Soo. Young, petite girl. She had you right in the palm of her hand. Does she, still?

It’s only 30 minutes. Seokjin has to be recording in 30 minutes.

Sejin moves in front of him and opens the door. Seokjin walks in behind him. There, sat in front of him, is the girl from 8 years ago. She’s still petite, so small. She doesn’t have the spark in her eyes though, nor the easy smile that crippled him with fear, made him feel played, like a toy. Even to Seokjin’s eyes, she looks different. She’s pale, sickly. Her eyes look empty. Her large dress shirt looks old and crumpled and her hair is short and greasy. She only glances at him briefly, with small, furtive eyes, before looking away and bowing slightly from where she sits. It’s unsettling, to say the least, but the unpredictability only puts him more on edge.

“Kang Ji Soo-ssi,” Seokjin acknowledges before a bow, “it’s nice to see you again.”

It’s not at all. It’s not nice. The numbness is leaving him slowly. His heart is starting to beat unsteady in his chest again. She looks different but it’s her. She doesn’t answer.

What if she threatens him? What if she finds a way to get him alone again? 

Why am I still so scared?

‘You’ve not grown, clearly.’

Why?

‘Here you are still, in the same room with Soo-ah and me.’

You’re not here.

‘But I am.'

He can’t help it when he rubs at his wrists, a phantom pain igniting there. Sejin pulls out a chair for Seokjin and himself. They both sit facing Ji Soo. His hands tremble so he holds them together under the table. It’s round, and the lawyer sits between both parties. They nod their head at him in acknowledgement. 

“Good afternoon, Seokjin-ssi. My name is Lim Kihyun. As I’ve informed Kang Ji Soo-ssi, I am here to insure this meeting and the event that prompted it will be settled in collaboration and without legal repercussions on Big Hit Entertainment, Bangtan Sonyeondan or yourself,” the lawyer informs him, looking at all of them individually before continuing.

“Therefore, for legal reasons, I am going to record this meeting. Please state your complete name before we begin,” as he requests this, the man’s hand moves to the device sitting in front of him on the table. He presses a button and nods once to signal the beginning of the recording.

Seokjin takes a shaky breath, readying himself. It’s true, that he’s not grown. It becomes evident to him, in this moment, that it’s fear that has him sitting right here in front of this woman, ready to apologize for something that’s not his fault, to tell the world that he was wrong and that they’re right to drag him through the mud. Though metaphorically, his hands are still bound behind his back.

He’s about to speak, finally, when the woman’s voice interrupts him.

“Kang Ji Soo,” she announces almost too loudly in the silence of the room, like she hadn’t expected herself to speak, “that’s my name…” She adds after a break, voice lowering to an almost whisper. 

Seokjin looks up to find her looking down. A few strands of hair fall over her eyes as they flicker nervously over the surface of the table.

“I’m not here to…” Her mouth keeps moving but there’s no sound coming out. Seokjin holds his breath. He realizes he’s scared of what she might say, might reveal. His fingers clench nervously around one another, fists still held together. He feels caught and vulnerable but Sejin is about ready to butt in, not liking the long silences and the wait. She speaks again, impromptu.

“I’m sorry.”

When she speaks those words, voice low and shaky, when he meets her eyes, loud, red and moist, a storm rises. Inside, where he’d kept everything well hidden, anguish and confusion seem to stirrup emotions that had been left to sediment and perish for years now. Paranoia. Hate. Humiliation. Disgust. Fear. Being forgotten by the world. Being outcasted. Unfit. Usable. Discardable. Mockable. Pathetic. It all comes out in the storm at the words. I’m sorry .

How dare she? Now, 8 years later, she shows up in front of him to whisper the words like they’re breaking her heart, catching up to him and exposing him like he hasn’t been running ceaselessly and uselessly all this time, like she’s got any right to slap this back in his face for her own peace of mind. It’s too fucking late now, Kang Ji Soo.

“I’m so sorry.”

Sometimes, eyes don’t see. Seokjin’s eyes for the last few hours have been open merely for survival. He hasn’t looked at anyone, seen anything. He’s been barely present, going through the motions and moving and speaking as asked. Now, despite the storm, the confusion, the anger, the words stir him. He looks at Kang Ji Soo, realizing she’s the first person he’s really seen today. He sees the first tear fall and dampen her flushed cheek. Her eyes, wrinkled at the outer corners and reduced to slits from the deep frown that shadows her face, want to speak, to be seen. Sometimes, eyes look not to see but to be seen. Her eyes give meaning to her words, and Seokjin doesn’t forgive her but he understands how much these words have been weighing her body and her spirit. In this moment, Kang Ji Soo may be hateful but not scary. She looks too downtrodden for that.

If Seokjin is thankful, it’s only for the silence, for a moment where he can swallow down the lump in his throat and blink away the moisture in his eyes. The storm is there, it’s destructive and unsettling. It’s too many things but, somehow, it’s quiet. It’s more quiet than the voice from earlier, the one that had been tearing at him. She’s quiet.

Kang Ji Soo stands up abruptly but Seokjin’s eyes don’t follow her movements. They stay rooted to where her eyes had been, to where they’d been when they, too, had said: I’m sorry .

“I’ll never ask for anything from this company or from Seokjin-ssi. I’ll never speak ill of him either. I’ll say anything you need me to say, do anything you need me to do.”

There’s a pause and that’s when Seokjin finally looks up. She’s wiping at her cheeks.

“Can you sign this contract, then, before you go?” Lim Kihyun asks. He looks a bit surprised, if the pull of his brow is anything to go by, but he’s not too unsettled. He’s probably glad he won’t have to convince anyone of anything.

When the woman answers with a nod, the lawyer slides some papers over to where she stands, pointing at a few spots with the tip of his pen. When only the scratch of the pen and his own heavy breathing start to fill the room, a drop from the storm in Seokjin’s mind slips through the cracks.

“I can’t forgive you,” he says at the same moment he comes to the realization, and he’s ashamed that the first thing he feels when he utters the words is fear. What will Sejin say? Will she be angry? Will she bite back? Am I being troublesome again?

But those are only fleeting thoughts because, before he can see or hear anything else, Seokjin flees the room. The phantom pain in his wrists is back with a vengeance and he rubs wildly at them, leaving red marks. The sting is so overwhelming that the knot he’s been swallowing back since morning finally makes it past his throat and he chokes on it. It’s a cry that quakes through him, leaves his lungs empty and, as it finally escapes, he bites his lips so tightly that he draws blood.

His instincts lead him to where he knows there’s a bathroom on the same floor, and he’s grateful to find it empty when he bursts in, pushing at the door with more force than necessary. He turns the lock behind him and, before the first tears fall, Seokjin is able to make it to the sink to splash cold water on his face. Then, he leaves his hands under the running water for a few seconds, hoping to relieve a sting that’s not really there.

Despite Kang Ji Soo’s apology, the memories are invading him slowly. It’s still her. Her voice had the same timber. Her nails were still long. Her eyes were still dark and almond shaped. It was unmistakably those hands that trapped him, those lips that bit him. It was her. It was her body that weighed him down and left him breathless as it pushed and ground, as it pulled and…

I’m sorry.

It’s too late. No. You were there. Why did you do that? You can’t take it back. 

...And Seokjin’s world becomes small. The walls close in and he doesn’t know what he’s running from but he’s pushing against the farthest wall as if he wants it to swallow him but it won’t. Still, his feet keep pushing and slipping on the floor. His breaths keep coming in in in . But never out. It’s like this morning again but he’s alone now, and she’s here. She is here, on this floor. How could he have gone in there? Why would he do that? This is mad.

He needs to calm down. He doesn’t want to pass out alone in this bathroom. With that thought, he wraps his arms around himself, seeking comfort, and he forces himself to breathe in slowly. Breath out. Breathe in. Breathe out. It reminds him of the old days. He used to do this a lot. He never told his parents, never told anyone, about what he’d been through. Seokjin himself had been his own source of comfort.

It takes a few moments but the panic passes. He almost feels embarrassed. He’s okay. He’s safe.

The ringing of his phone startles him and he reaches for his pocket to pull it out. It’s Sejin.

“Hello,” he answers, voice cracking from the dryness in his throat. It’s at that moment that it dawns on him. He hasn’t drank nor eaten anything all day. He clears his throat.

“Seokjin. What was that all about?” Sejin asks, voice loud, on the verge of screaming. When Seokjin doesn’t answer right away, he keeps going. “Never mind. We don’t have time for that. Recording starts in 5 minutes. I thought you’d be here by now. Get here. Now.”

With that, the manager hangs up. Seokjin, who’d been ready to respond, closes his mouth and pockets his phone. It’s a hellish day. And it’s only 2pm.

It’s another 9 hours before Seokjin makes it back home. 2 hours of voice recording. 3 hours again at the dance studio to learn yet another choreography. 3 hours of filming for Run BTS. Come 7pm, Seokjin had been so utterly exhausted that he’d almost forgotten about the previous events of the day. That had to be the only reason he was able to pull through filming and plaster a fake smile for the camera. 

His bandmates' moods had only deteriorated throughout the day. Namjoon seemed to have had a conversation with Sejin because he’d been a lot less forgiving for the second dance practice. Jungkook seemed to be getting more and more upset by his hyungs tempers, which made him just as snappy as everyone else. By the end of the day, though Seokjin had beared most of the brunt, all of them had suffered from the tension in the air. That’s why, when they get home, Namjoon’s request to “talk this out” as they take off their shoes and settle around the living room elicits a collective groan. Seokjin, for one, is really the last one amongst the seven who’d want to ‘talk this out,’ right now. He’s pretty sure of that, but he doesn’t groan nor whine. He hopes the others reactions are enough reason to postpone this talk. He’s wrong, apparently.

“I don’t want this holding us back in the future. We need to stick together through tough times. I’m sure we all agree.”

“Hyung, but can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?” Jimin whines but his face immediately turns sour at Namjoon’s frown.

“We got more stuff tomorrow. We’ll still be tired too. We need to do this today.”

“Joon is right,” Yoongi pipes in. “It’s best to settle things now.”

At that, everyone gathers around the living room. Jungkook sits in the middle of the maknae line, on one couch. Yoongi sits on one extremity of the other couch, so Seokjin settles on the other extremity. Observing this, Hoseok sits in the middle. Namjoon then pulls out a chair from the dining table and settles next to Seokjin.

He’s not ready for this. Frankly, he’s scared. He’s tired of this day, of feeling weighed down and looked down on. He feels overwhelmed and sick. He knows his band mates are also tired, disappointed, preoccupied, and he’s just hoping they’ll go easy on him. He feels lonely enough. He feels burdened enough. He feels anxious enough. He doesn’t think he can take much more.

Chapter Text

“I want us to have a chance to express ourselves and understand each other.”

There’s a few hums and heads nodding along.

“We should try to understand each other’s point of view, like we always do, but for that all of us have to be honest about how we’re feeling,” Namjoon explains, looking around the room. The last words are uttered directly to Seokjin, and the latter looks down.

“Personally, I’m feeling disappointed in you, Jin hyung,” the leader starts again. He’s being careful, like he’s handling small china, but the words don’t surprise Seokjin. He only nods in understanding.

“Today, I felt like I didn’t know you...It’s not only about these stories I’ve been hearing. You’ve been distant and avoidant. It just isn’t like you. I didn’t expect this from you.”

Namjoon is looking at him with a deep frown. His eyes betray his desperation. Namjoon looks unfulfilled.

None of them did expect this, because Seokjin is their rock, their constant. He’s the shore on a cloudy day; he’s predictable, safe. He’s always had a joke under his sleeve and a laugh to back it up. He’s got large, warm wings and all the theatricals of a mood maker. Seokjin is a hyung, the best and the only one in their eyes, so he takes it in stride. He wasn’t a hyung, not today. He was busy surviving.

“I’m sorry, Joon-ah. I don’t mean to be like that,” he apologizes. It’s a sincere apology. He’s sorry, very much so, and it breaks his heart to hear Namjoon so preoccupied, with the world’s weight on his shoulders. He wants to take that weight, too. He’s helpless.

“Sejin told me you left? That Kang Ji Soo-ssi apologized to you and you said you couldn’t forgive her and you burst out. Could you...help us understand?” Namjoon asks.

They’re all surprised, puzzled, angry. They’re so transparent, when they’re boneless like this, not surrounded by cameras. 

He considers it for a second, helping them understand. He thinks about which words he might use for that, how he could brush the surface, like he thought he might have been able to this morning before so many eyes settled on him. 

I’m scared. Something happened with that woman, and now I get scared. I can’t control it. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

But then, what if that is not enough? If someone here questions him and his intentions, if they think he’s lying or if they still think he’s a coward, what then? What if they get to the point of no return? Seokjin will have to prove himself, expose himself and his brothers to the storm. It will mean giving up control completely. It will be throwing himself into the abyss and hope they’re there to catch him. But what if he’s too heavy, and they can’t bear the weight? What if they miss him? Will he slip between their fingers? Will the speed of his fall take them down too? 

Seokjin thinks pride is useless, tries to bare himself of its extra weight. There’s something about being a hyung, though, that won’t let him speak. He’s always wanted to stay that hyung, in their eyes: indestructible yet light as a feather. If he speaks of these fears, of being out of control, of being taken advantage of, how will that change him in their eyes? He wants to hold on to that version of himself, the one he’s always been to them. He doesn’t want them to see him differently, treat him differently, and suffer for him. When the social pressure is at its highest, Seokjin doesn’t want to be the weak link. It’s easier, to bear the weight on his own. He’s been doing it all this time. He doesn’t know yet, how to fall softly unto others, how to let others bear a bit of his weight. So he won’t let go, not yet. Soon , he tells himself. Just not yet. Just a bit longer. It’ll be better, then.

“It’s just some high school story. It’s not a big deal,” he replies after a whole minute of silence. It’s so obviously a lie. He thought of it long enough for it to be blatant.

“I thought we’d be honest, here,” Jimin tries softly. It’s not so much an attack as an encouragement. Please be honest. We want to know. Yet, it speaks of his own disappointment too.

“Why did you do that then? What do you keep running away from?” Yoongi pushes, taking Jimin’s direction but his own personal, more confrontational approach.

Yoongi hits the nail on the head. The younger doesn’t know what he’s prodding at, though. Seokjin’s grateful yet resentful. Yoongi might be the only one he would seriously consider sharing this with. He’s the closest in age. He’s immeasurably strong, trustworthy, wise. Seokjin’s grateful Yoongi somehow understands. He’s resentful he’s being infantilized again.

“Is this an interrogation? What are you being so mean for, Yoongi hyung?” Taehyung butts in. It’s obvious he’s trying to avoid a fight but too impatient himself to see that he might just end up doing the opposite. Jungkook and Jimin seem to want to take his words back, catch them in the air so they don’t light a flame. Thankfully, they don’t need to.

“I think he can speak for himself, Tae,” Yoongi answers, stern. He only spares Taehyung a quick look, one that says I’m not holding it against you but I’m not indulging you, either .

“I think it might be best to talk about our own feelings before rushing into things,” the leader suggests, but it’s obvious that his words fall into deaf ears. It’s too personal. It’s too worrisome. They need to understand because they feel so out of control, like Seokjin took the wheel to their career but he’s lost and shaky and might just crash and burn before any of them can do anything about it.

Before anyone can speak again, Hoseok turns to Seokjin to ask the question that’s on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

“Was she a lover?”

She was anything but. Have they noticed he’s never had one, since the very beginning? They’ve all tried, in secrecy or at least in an attempt at it. All but him. They might be thinking she’s the reason why. They wouldn't be wrong.

The question sends shivers down his spine. It disgusts him, frightens him, the mere thought of it.

“No.”

Silence. Where do they go, from here? They want something to work with but Seokjin is not giving in. What’s the point of talking if nothing’s going to change? Seokjin doesn’t know either. He wants to sleep. He doesn’t have the inspiration to knit a web of lies. He wishes they would let it go, give him time. Let him rest.

“Maybe a one night gone south?”

In Yoongi’s eyes, he’s taking one for the team. In his band mates eyes, he’s adding oil to the fire. To Yoongi, it’s all the same. It has to light up, at some point. They might as well let it burn now. It’s a dangerous game though, and he never asked Seokjin if he wanted to play.

‘It was kind of like that. Wasn’t it, Seokjin-ah?’

It’s back, that voice. A one night gone south. It’s a cruel way to phrase it. Can something go south when it was wicked from the beginning? It couldn’t have gone anywhere but south.

Maybe a one night gone south?

‘...we’ll take good care of you!’

‘...before he starts any trouble.’

‘...enjoy it while it lasts...’

‘...you’re getting there...’

‘And we did take good care of you, didn’t we? You got home safe too. We made sure of that.’

“Shut up!”

He’s not looking at anyone, misses the sour look on Yoongi’s face. His fingers grip the edge of the couch. It fails to ground him. He can do this. He can. 

He can’t. He can’t.

‘You can’t.’

‘...enjoy it while it lasts...’

‘But it’s been over for years. What’s wrong with you?’

‘...don’t be such a whiny little…’

His cheeks. His neck. His wrists. His thighs. They tingle and burn. He’s on his feet.

“No! You stop hiding and running away from…”

‘...right on the palm of my hand.’

‘...a lover...a one night ...’

‘...so sweet, so helpless...’

‘...stop hiding and running away...’

‘...you just lay there for a bit.’

“...we’re not done!”

‘...not done! Open! Your! Eyes!’

*

The body that he lives in awakes but he doesn’t. It’s sick. It’s on a car seat. There’s vomit on its jeans. Someone screams but Seokjin is not awake. He’s not asleep either. 

The body that he lives in is strange. It aches . It tingles. It doesn’t want to be Seokjin’s. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Maybe his body doesn’t suit him. It’s slick with sweat and it smells rotten.

It’s on the side of a street now, sitting on a sidewalk. The car from earlier is disappearing into the distance. Seokjin isn’t sure what it’s doing, this body. Its fists hit its chest and when the body doesn’t respond, its fingers crawl up and down its neck over and over until it breathes. It breathes in deep. Then it’s sick again, on the pavement.

It walks, thrumming, unsure, up the sidewalk and stops at a metallic brown door.

Seokjin is…he’s awake. The brown door, the glint of it in the rising dawn, awakes him.

Seokjin doesn’t want to go in. He’s certain his bed will smell just the same, like his coconut shampoo, fresh lavender detergent and just a hint of sweat. His bedroom door will creak that way it always has. He knows the curtains will be drawn because his mom opened them yesterday morning to let the light in. He’ll see the books he left open on his desk because he thought he would study all evening. All these things will welcome these eyes, these ears, this nose, and they will feel unfamiliar, like someone else’s memories. When he lays on his bed, will this body feel his again? Will it return to him, feeling how the mattress hugs it just the same? The next time these eyes catch this body in the mirror, naked, and notice that it has the same curves, the same edges, the same skin, will they recognize it, despite its new colors, its new scars?

He hopes they won’t. It’s a bit easier, this way. When this body finally comes back to him, it’ll ache too much. Seokjin will want to peel it off.

*

Seokjin’s walking away. Away. Away. Away. 

But Jimin’s voice makes it through the cacophony of voices; the ones in his head, the ones in the room, they go quiet at his words.

“You know what people are saying, hyung? That they want you out. They’re saying you’ll bring us down.” 

Jimin feels bad. He feels absolutely terrible. The tears in his eyes and the silent apology they offer are unmissable. He’s desperate though, and Seokjin can sense that. He, himself, feels horrible. Maybe they’re falling too. He wants to catch them, but he can’t. There might really be nothing he can do. Maybe the best decision would be to let this go.

“Kick me out, then. If everyone wants me out so badly, why are we still talking about this?”

The moment the words are out, he regrets them, if only for a second. If only because they seem to break hearts. They seem to shoot like bullets out of his mouth and pierce through them as their faces morph, crestfallen. He feels like he’s squeezed and broken something he’s been carefully cradling for as long as he’s known these six boys. They’ve possibly never felt so let down by their hyung.

‘They’ll be better off without you. You were never here for the right reasons, anyway.’

It is only for a second. The next, he feels satisfied. This really might be for the best. He’s feeling drained, breathless. Fuck, he wants to let this go just for now. Not only for himself but for these six people for whom he cares so much. They’d be better off, really, separating their names from this scandal. They’re so talented, so full of life and creativity. Why would he hold them back with his soiled name, with his fucked up story?

“You don’t mean that, hyung.”

It’s Jungkook. He pulls Seokjin back from his elbow as he speaks, trying to get him to stay, to look at him. Jungkook’s sure he’ll be able to tell he doesn’t mean it, when he can look his hyung straight in the eye.

Seokjin reacts without thinking. It’s that impulse again. Don’t touch me. He’s pushing Jungkook away before he can stop himself. It’s not as aggressive nor as fearful, but it’s enough for Jungkook to stumble back. He looks heartbroken. Everyone’s eyes widen at the gesture, some struck with shock and some with anger. Jimin stands to walk up and past their maknae protectively, his own eyes deadly.

“Maybe I do.”

He’s scared now more than ever. He’s losing so much. Everything. He really might be too weak, too much of a coward. It’s for them, but for himself too. People are blaming him. And it’s the hardest blame to take, when you’re being made out to be the bad guy. There’s no out. There’s only hoping people will forget.

“You can’t just say that! You can’t say that after everything we’ve been through! Why are you being so selfish? You can’t do this to us!”

It’s Taehyung now. He’s crying. Seokjin’s own eyes dampen at the sight. Taehyung-ah. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to be selfish, how to be selfless. Hyung doesn’t know the right answer, right now. Hyung doesn’t want you to be scared.

“Yah! You’re all so dramatic,” Hoseok intervenes, and he’s not wrong, but there’s irony in his words because his own red eyes give him away. He gets up to walk next to where Taehyung is now standing and wraps an arm around his shoulders. It warms Seokjin’s heart, a little.

“Hyung, just promise us nothing like this will happen again, please. Will you promise us that you’ll do your best and we won’t have to worry about this again?”

Namjoon nods along, glad for a rational voice, the one he’s been trying but failing to make them hear.

Seokjin, more than anything, wants to promise. How wonderful would that be? He can do his best, too. It’s exactly what he’s been doing. What he can’t promise is that this won’t happen again. In the long list of fears that have been accumulating for the past 24 hours, this is the first one. What if it happens again? 

Seokjin doesn’t know why this happens. He can’t explain the mental absence, the burn, the urge to get away. It’s like dodging a ball. Like running from a wild dog. It’s like closing your eyes before the impact. It’s instinct. It’s stronger than him.

“I can’t do that, Hobi,” he answers, voice full of tears, of remorse. It shakes with the cries he’s holding in.

‘You should have left a long time ago. This body, it’s not meant for the light.’

Then it’s Namjoon who asks, “What do you mean you can’t?” 

“I can’t control it. I’m scared it might happen again too.”

He lets this one slip. He mourns a little on his pride. They deserve to know, hyung or not. He’s not light as a feather. Nor indestructible, either. His wings may be large and warm but they’re a bit scraped, too.

“You can’t do this again, Seokjin! You’re not alone here!” Yoongi says lowly, calculated and evidently omitting the hyung. To Seokjin’s ears, it’s as loud as a scream. 

‘You can’t do this again.’

Okay, Yoongi-ah. I will really try. I will not dodge the ball. I will not run from the wild dog. I will not close my eyes before the impact. I will fight it with every fiber of my being.

“I will try my best. I will.”

It’s as good a promise as he can make.

“Clearly, your best hasn't been enough.”

Chapter Text

'Clearly, your best hasn’t been enough.'

The words hurt, and Seokjin’s knee-jerk reaction is to generalize the statement, to feel completely beaten by the dismissal of all his efforts. But Yoongi’s not saying Seokjin is not enough. That’s not it. Seokjin clings to the barely discernible fear in the rapper’s eyes which tells him what he needs to know: Yoongi’s scared of the future. He doesn’t like seeing Seokjin scared and running. It sways his own sense of security.

On the other hand, the burning heat that spreads through his chest is in much larger part anger than hurt. All of this working continuously, the long nights of filming, recording, dancing until they can barely move. All the struggling, the worry, the fear of failure, the criticism, all this suffering together for what? Is this what it all amounts to?

“If you can’t trust me, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do.”

With that, Seokjin is gone, once again. He hopes this is the last time he’ll have to walk away from his band mates today. Or ever.

As he makes his way upstairs, silent tears gather in his eyes and, this time, Seokjin does nothing to stop them. He lets them fall as the weight of the day seems to drain him too much to hold back. Yesterday feels like a decade ago, and he feels just that much older. His shoulders and head ache with tension. His muscles are strained as his feet drag him slowly to his bedroom. It’s pitiful, he thinks. Never before has he felt so inadequate. Now that his trauma has led him here, he can’t help but feel as though he’s malfunctioning, as in something must be truly wrong with him.

*

Taehyung can’t help but feel like his hyung is carrying the weight of his words as he retreats, feet slow and dragging. He didn’t mean to be so harsh, to bite Seokjin, cause an open wound then leave him to fend for himself. He just wanted Seokjin to take back his words. He couldn’t disagree more with Yoongi and his careless interventions. Fuck this whole scandal and the people who want his hyung out. Seokjin’s not leaving, not under Taehyung’s watch. But still, Taehyung’s scared.

And sure, Taehyung is confused beyond belief too. He can’t, for the life of him, understand Seokjin’s behaviour. It’s true, that he’s been running. He’d left Sejin, Kang Ji Soo and a lawyer in an office with an unsigned contract to run where? What for? 

He ran yesterday night. He ran this morning. He ran from Kang Ji Soo. And, just now, he’d ran again. It does stir some frustration in him. Taehyung’s angry.

And what is it with those outbursts? They’re quite unsettling. Does his hyung have anger issues? Is it stress that makes him irritable? He’s never known Seokjin to be one to lash out. That’s what he’d done with Jungkook just now, and it had broken his heart a little. He’s hurt for their maknae. He’s shocked that Seokjin had had the nerve to push the boy like that at all.

Really, Taehyung just wants his hyung back. He wants his warm arms. He wants to listen to his lame jokes and his hysterical laughter. He wants Seokjin to look them in the eye. He wants his hyung to stop lying to their faces. Like Yoongi had said, to stop hiding.

But Yoongi’s wrong. He’s wrong to push and prod and provoke. Despite the lies, the outburst, and the wandering eyes that never settled directly on any of theirs, Seokjin had given an honest apology. It was clear to all of them.

Taehyung had also spotted a couple other things. He’d seen the singer’s trembling hands. He’d also seen a small cut on his bottom lip and a scratch mark on the back of his wrist. He’d seen the way his eyes drifted like his mind was half absent. He’s worried.

Taehyung is scared, angry, and worried. But, on top of it all, he’s tired. His bones feel like jelly and his head weighs a hundred tons, so after a few seconds of silence, he follows his hyung’s footsteps up the stairs. Nobody reacts, and he’s glad to be able to slip out of the room unnoticed. He’s more than ready for a full night’s sleep. As his bare feet land on the first step, the voices of Namjoon and Yoongi start to echo in the living room. There seems to be a disagreement. Great , he thinks, I couldn’t wait for the next argument. Brought to the point of indifference, mind fully occupied with the one and only task of getting some sleep, Taehyung blocks the words out and keeps heading up.

Once in his room, he lays down on his fresh sheets and pulls his phone out without a thought. It’s instinct. He checks his schedule for the next few days. They’re heading to Japan soon. Seokjin’s birthday is also around the corner. He briefly wonders how that will turn out. Then a thought crosses his mind and, before he can think of it, his fingers are moving on the screen.

Kang Ji Soo has released a statement, and Taehyung has yet to find out its content and the public’s response. He wishes he hadn’t seeked out the information but there had been no time for an internal struggle, the urge to find out almost primal. His eyes are scanning over the words soon enough. He sits, instinctively, reading over the lines as he holds his breath.

It’s lighthearted. That’s what it tries to convey, at least. There is no resentment and no ill feelings, apparently.

‘It was a moment taken out of context, but I never held any grudge against Kim Seokjin-ssi. I can assure you there was no ill intent behind his actions and I was not hurt as a result. I wish him the best in his career and personal life and I hope this explanation can appease those of you who have taken to spreading malicious comments and rumours about him. Thank you for worrying about me, but I am okay. Please forgive Seokjin-ssi for what is only a misunderstanding.’

As his eyes reach the end of the short text and read over the final lines frantically, Taehyung releases a breath. Maybe his hyung wasn’t so wrong after all. What if he was being honest? He feels suddenly much lighter now, with that thought. That is only before his eyes finally land on the comments section. From there, it’s only downhill. 

It wasn’t enough, clearly. It would never be enough. There was no fixing this, no going back from it. There are hundreds of thousands of comments and all Taehyung comes across is disbelief, mockery, and hate. The public is not ready to let this go.

As Taehyung’s mind starts to downspiral, a loud bang coming from his right startles him out of his thoughts.

“Jin hyung?”

It must be. Something hit the wall on his right side, where Seokjin’s room is situated. Taehyung hesitates. Should he check on the elder? What if his hyung doesn’t want to see him?

But Taehyung is worried. He doesn’t want Seokjin to hurt all by himself, doesn’t want him to hurt himself. When the worry finally takes over the fear, Taehyung strides over to Seokjin’s bedroom door and knocks softly.

“Jin hyung?” He calls tentatively.

There’s no answer, so he knocks again.

“Hyung, can I come in?”

This time, after a few seconds of wait, Taehyung hears the door crack open. He opens it to see Seokjin’s back again, already walking away towards his bed. Taehyung’s eyes drift to a dent on the wall right in front of him, then to Seokjin’s phone laying cracked on the floor. He swallows thickly and looks away. He doesn’t want Seokjin to feel judged. The latter is not looking at Taehyung though, nor at the broken phone. Seokjin is looking blankly at his feet.

“Sorry, Taehyung-ah. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, voice weak and low. It sounds so hollow to Taehyung’s ears. He’s never felt this awkward around Seokjin. It’s an unwelcome sensation. He scratches the back of his head, petting the hair back down right after.

“I-It’s alright, hyung. I was just checking in.”

There’s more silence. Taehyung wonders if he should leave. It doesn’t seem like his hyung wants him around. Then, he realises it’s because he has something to say. He can’t leave because he has something to say.

“You can’t leave,” he says matter-of-factly, without an ounce of malice or resentment.

Seokjin looks up at his words and the view makes Taehyung’s heart stutter. It’s a selfish feeling and he knows it. He doesn’t like how red his hyung’s eyes are, how tear tracks mar his swollen cheeks. It’s disturbing because Seokjin is his hyung, a protector. The feeling of vulnerability that invades him is not one of empathy. If Seokjin is fragile, what will Taehyung make of himself?

But then, it's guilt that takes over, and he feels so, so sorry for Seokjin. Taehyung has four hyungs and a best friend to look after him. If he can’t lean on Seokjin, he has four more pairs of shoulders to cry on. Who does Seokjin have? Who can he lean on? They’ve all lost so much. Seokjin, particularly, has left so many friends behind, has been left behind too. The eldest hyung has never leaned on any of them. He must be so heavy, by now.

“I’m sorry, hyung, for what I said. You’re not selfish.”

He can’t even look Seokjin in the eye when he says this. He stares at his own feet, now, while the elder observes him.

“Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin calls him, and he looks up. His eyes are a bit less hollow. His lips curl into a subtle, tight smile. It’s the slightest bit comforting. “Will you trust hyung?”

Despite the disappointment and the shock that had almost drained Taehyung of any empathy during the day, he doesn’t hesitate when he nods as an answer. What else can he do, but trust him? Isn’t it the least he deserves?

Even as he nods, Taehyung is conscious that he’s not forgetting about everything his hyung has put them through today. However, he also knows that Seokjin’s hard work and efforts can not be erased in the matter of a day. His hyung will do his best. Taehyung just can’t trust that it will be enough.

With this thought, Taehyung is gripped by fear again, the fear he’d been struggling with before he was distracted by Seokjin’s phone hitting the wall. The comments. The hate. The petitions to kick Seokjin out. It all invades him at once and Taehyung’s tears fall fast and without warning. Seokjin seems taken aback, but he also seems to understand. His features soften dramatically with concern and care and he pats the spot next to him in a silent invitation.

“You look too ugly when you cry,” he mocks the younger lightheartedly while wrapping an arm around him as he sits. “Come hide in here.”

And so, Taehyung buries himself in Seokjin’s arms with his head resting on his broad shoulder, crying like a baby, loud and messy. The elder only pats his back silently. While breaking down, Taehyung thinks that it’s truly a gift to have a hyung like Seokjin. He wishes Seokjin had a hyung like himself too.

“Hyung,” Taehyung croaks after a while. He receives a hum in response.

“Your lip is bleeding.”

Seokjin’s hand freezes on his back.

“Don’t hurt yourself. Okay?”

*

That night, Seokjin doesn’t sleep. When he makes it back to his room the next day, he’s more tired than he’s ever been. He feels like a corpse: a disgusting, aching, rotting corpse. The day hadn’t been any easier than the one before. By morning, his head had been pounding atrociously, making it hard to even keep his eyes open. He’d had to swallow what had to be an unhealthy amount of aspirin in the morning and all throughout the day. It had barely kept the pounding at bay. 

Given the circumstances, he’d done a pretty decent job. Unfortunately, he’s known for a long time that circumstances don’t matter in this industry. He’d had to bear with a fair amount of scoldings from coaches, producers, stylists, managers, and band mates. He also had felt somewhat isolated, with his band mates in large part giving him the cold shoulder or being too awkward around him to reciprocate any attempt at an interaction. The whole crew was dealing with the aftermath of Ji Soo’s post and the failed attempt at minimizing the damage. The tension in the air was unbearable. On top of it all, Seokjin had broken his phone and, though he wasn't counting on it for distraction, getting a new one was a necessity. When he'd told Hobeom about it, he'd been given a temporary phone accompanied by a bitter look and a crude comment.

As he finally slips under his covers, Seokjin almost feels like crying again, but he doesn’t. He’s just too tired for tears. They won’t come out. He only wishes to grab a few hours sleep. Is that asking for too much? He only wants to forget, for a bit. He also wants the pounding to let up. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen any time soon, and so Seokjin keeps tossing and turning.

As he turns for the umpteenth time, though, he freezes in horror as he comes face to face with her . She’s right there, in front of him, on his bed, under his covers. Her dark, mocking eyes gaze into him and Seokjin tries to scream but no sound is coming out. She laughs now, as she climbs on top of him and he tries to move, to kick and punch and run, but he can’t.

"You can't get away. Never."

He can’t move at all. She’s scratching at him, at his chest, his face, his crotch, like she wants to get inside of him. Then, with horror, breathless, Seokjin observes as her hand plunges into his body to grab at his lungs. Her fingers squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and Seokjin can’t breath. He opens his mouth and tries but he can’t and he feels tears fall but they’re only choking him as they pool around him and he…

He sits up in his bed, eyes flying open in the darkness of his bedroom and he breathes when he finds his lungs still empty. Reaching for his chest, Seokjin is relieved to find it intact. It was just a nightmare. He’s okay. It was a nightmare. He’s safe. 

Sweaty, shaky, thirsty, Seokjin removes his covers and goes to walk downstairs and to the kitchen. His throat is dry and he needs to relieve the burn. As he walks downstairs, he’s surprised to find Sejin coming in. He jumps slightly, startled, but recovers the second after. What time is it? There’s light coming in from the window in the living room. Is it actually daytime already?

“Sejin hyung, what are you doing here?” Seokjin asks, curious and concerned.

When Sejin looks at him, his face is an ugly mask of fury and disgust. Seokjin swallows thickly.

“It’s you! It’s all your fault, you stupid, good for nothing brat!”

Sejin screams, spit flying out of his mouth and face red as he storms over to Seokjin and the latter cowers. Before he can make a run for it, Seokjin is grabbed by the back of his neck and forced downstairs and against the window of the living room. He shakes violently, trying to get out of the manager's grip, but it only makes his neck and head hurt more.

Dumbfounded, the singer sees a crowd outside their home. They’re screaming and throwing things at him from the other side of the window. They seem angry, just as angry as Sejin, but their expressions change as Seokjin is forcefully pressed against the window. They start laughing. They’re laughing hysterically, clutching at their stomach. Some of them take their phones out and suddenly Seokjin is blinded by camera flashes.

He’s naked. Seokjin is naked in front of hundreds, maybe thousands of people. He can’t help it when he starts thrashing and crying, begging to be let go of, but the grip on his neck is strong and immovable. Soon, he finds his bandmates all behind him, pressing him further against the window as the crowd goes crazy with hilarity. Seokjin thrashes until he’s completely breathless, but then it hits him.

They would never do this to him. Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, they wouldn’t do this to him. No. This is a nightmare. 

I want to wake up. Please, let me wake up. Let me wake up to reality, this time. This is too horrible. I just want to open my eyes.

Strangely enough, Seokjin can feel his closed lids. With all his might, he attempts to open his eyes. It's to no avail though; instead of opening, Seokjin can feel his lids clenching further with the effort. When his eyes open, and he’s in his room again, Seokjin is able to tell that he’s still asleep. Yes, this is his room. Yes, Seokjin is conscious. But he hasn’t opened his eyes, not really. Still, when Yoongi comes in pouncing through the door with that woman from the club, he panics. 

No. No. No. No. Wake up, Seokjin! Wake up! 

But he can’t. He can’t move. When Yoongi screams at him to stop hiding and running away, watching with a cold gaze as that woman settles over him and starts nibbling at his neck, he tries to scream once again.

Someone wake me up, please! He screams in his head, hoping the words will make it past his mouth. They don’t. Taehyung-ah! Taehyung-ah, come get me, please!

She’s reaching under his pyjamas now. She grabs and rubs and Seokjin is breathless with how much he’s trying to scream, for any noise to make it past his lungs. He’s petrified with fear and disgust. He can feel his eyes squeeze even as he tries to open them with all his might. As the woman reaches out to wrap her hands around his throat, Seokjin finally opens his eyes.

He can hear the slightest sound make it past his mouth, whatever was left of air in his lungs coming out as the echo of a scream from his nightmare. He breathes deep but shaky, his heart beating wildly inside his rib cage. There are tears falling down his cheeks, but Seokjin is just relieved to finally be awake. This is real. The fabric under his hands is real. He grips at it, trying to ground himself. He needs water. The dizziness from the heat and the thirst is going to kill him. He might also need more aspirin.

Downstairs, he flicks the light open to find Yoongi sleeping on the couch. His heart jumps with the remainder of his nightmare, but he breathes through it, reassured by his senses. He’s awake. He’s okay. Still, his hands tremble with tremors.

Seokjin walks past the couch and to the kitchen, grabbing himself a glass of water, careful not to let it slip from his unsteady grip. As he turns around, he’s graced with Yoongi’s silhouette standing in the darkness of the kitchen. The glow from the living room gives him a ghostly appearance and Seokjin jumps back, a quiet curse falling from his lips, and grabs the counter to steady himself.

"Why are you doing this to me?” Seokjin exclaims with a hand over his heart. Yoongi only looks at him for a second, as if processing his words. Then, he walks up to the kitchen island to pull out a stool for himself.

“I was wrong, hyung,” Yoongi says lowly, looking up to meet Seokjin’s eyes, but the latter can’t read his expression in the darkness.

“I just…” he starts again then hesitates. “I crossed a line,” he settles for after a few seconds. “I shouldn't have disrespected you.”

Seokjin only nods, lacking words to express his feelings. Really, he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s still scared from his nightmare, and Yoongi’s presence comforts him. The anger from the previous night has all but evaporated. He doesn’t really know what to make of his words, though. Is this an apology?

“Okay,” he responds, still not knowing the right answer.

It’s evident that Yoongi is still deeply confused. He knows he did something wrong but his words are still short of an apology.

At his answer, Yoongi nods, heading back to the living room. He hears the rapper moving around, probably gathering and organizing things before heading to his actual bed.

Seokjin is exhausted. He hasn't slept in 48 hours and the few hours he got just now were filled with the worst kind of nightmare he’s ever had. He’s completely beaten, and it’s incredible how just having Yoongi there makes him feel just the slightest bit better. Still, Yoongi doesn’t understand.

Maybe he can though. Maybe if he can, then Seokjin can sleep. Maybe he can feel just safe enough to sleep for a bit.

“Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin calls as he moves to the living room, watching as Yoongi gathers his charger from behind the couch. Yoongi only hums, still moving without looking at his hyung. Seokjin calls his name again.

“Yoon…”

This time, the younger pauses to look back at him.

“Yes, hyung?”

With this, Seokjin settles on the couch while Yoongi follows him with puzzled eyes.

“Can I tell you a story?”

Chapter Text

The house is now almost completely dark if not for the moonlight seeping through the window curtains and the glow of Yoongi's tablet. He couldn’t focus properly today, so he’d stayed up even after everyone had slowly trudged out the kitchen and living room and to their own bedrooms. He's not too sure why he stayed here. As he’d walked through the front door, he’d thought of a good rhyme to fit after his last line, but Hoseok and Namjoon had been conversing with him, so he’d just settled right there, trying to talk to them and write at the same time. Too focused on his task, he hadn’t seen the time pass. Namjoon, who had been the last one to walk out, had tried to convince him to get some rest.

“Hyung, you’re gonna burn out if you go on like this,” he’d warned Yoongi, who’d waved him off with false reassurances. The leader, used to the lies and too tired to argue, had switched off the light before leaving in a final attempt to get his point across.

Now, at almost 2am, Yoongi closes his eyes to lay his head down for a few seconds. He almost whines when someone walks downstairs and turns the light on. Ugh, maybe I should go to sleep now. However, when his eyes open to see a pale looking Seokjin walking past him and towards the kitchen, Yoongi thinks that maybe that will have to wait a few more minutes. 

He’d been told he’d gone too far, by Hoseok. He’d been told his behaviour had been counterproductive, by Namjoon. He can only imagine the maknae line agree. He should address this now, before he regrets never having spoken at all. With difficulty, he stands to walk to the kitchen. Seokjin is startled by his presence; he jumps back when he turns around to find Yoongi standing there.

“Ya! You brat! Why are you doing this to me?”

Yoongi almost winces at how loud and uncomfortable the elder sounds. With the light coming in from behind him, he can see the water in Seokjin’s glass move, turbulent. His hyung’s hands seem to be shaking. Somehow, in this light, at this time, standing with shaking hands with bluish bags under his eyes and grabbing the counter behind him, Seokjin looks vulnerable. 

There is definitely something here that Yoongi can’t seem to get a grasp of. It’s nibbling at him from the back of his mind. How could this be the same person who’d pushed their maknae away just yesterday? Yoongi knows that Seokjin is not transparent. He’s never been. It never mattered, though, because he’s easy to understand. He’s simple, genuine. Except now, he’s not. He’s anything but. Despite this, Yoongi can see where he went wrong, so he admits it. He says he was wrong, that he crossed a line. He’s not ready to apologize though, too resentful still. Maybe one day, he will apologize. Not yet, not when Seokjin still won’t speak, is refusing to be upfront.

He’d been wondering, today, if maybe Seokjin’s mental health is deteriorating. That’s a plausible explanation. Or, what if there’s some underlying problem that he’s been hiding from them all these years? Unmanageable stress? Anger? Anxiety? Yoongi never hid from them. He never hid from anyone, as a matter of fact, not matter how hard it was. Despite his depression, he was always open. Despite the darkness that swallows him, he always crawls back out for them. It’s just so frustrating, to see Seokjin hiding away.

He wonders briefly if he should explain himself. Maybe if he expresses himself better and lays his cards out on the table, Seokjin will understand. Maybe he will do the same. However, Seokjin only responds with a silent “okay” and Yoongi nods before heading back to the living room to gather his things. It’s unnerving, Seokjin’s shortness, and Yoongi’s more than ready for sleep, now. God, what wouldn’t he give to be under his covers with his head resting on his pillow right about now?

Seokjin’s voice startles him as it calls out his name, and Yoongi, busy unplugging his charger from behind the couch, only hums in response.

“Yoon…” he hears Seokjin’s voice call out again. Curious, Yoongi turns around to find his hyung settling on the couch. When he asks Yoongi if he wants to hear a story, the rapper hesitates, shoving his charger and tablet in the backpack he’d left on the floor earlier.

Part of him wonders where this is going. Maybe Seokjin is ready to stop running, but Yoongi is irritable and tired and the promise of sleep is just too tempting. This can wait, just a bit longer. What if this ends in another fight? He’s too tired for that. He might’ve wanted to lay his cards on the table a minute ago but now that thought is far behind.

“It’s 2am, hyung. The only story I want to hear is my dreams,” Yoongi answers, now reaching for a pen that had fallen under the coffee table, but Seokjin insists.

“Yoongi-ah.”

The rapper sighs, looking up again to find Seokjin staring back at him with what Yoongi could only interpret as shame. The singer’s eyes blink rapidly, as they often do when he’s nervous. Why, though?

“I…” His hyung pauses, looks down, then sighs deeply, as if readying himself. “I’m gonna tell you a story,” he says despite Yoongi’s obvious refusal. It wasn’t a question, then. Resigned, Yoongi sits on the other couch.

“Suit yourself, I guess,” he replies and, though his words seem harsh, his tone is passive and he’s leaning closer to his hyung, ready to listen. 

“It’s about a friend of mine...” Seokjin starts with a furtive glance.

Wait, what?

Is Seokjin really going to ignore the elephant in the room by telling him a story about his ‘friend’? Is this going to end in some sort of joke or moral?

“Why are you telling me about him? Can’t you tell me tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, almost standing up again and already feeling ugly irritation build in his chest. However, Seokjin’s next words and the pitiful look he sends Yoongi's way melt it in an instant.

“It’s...Please, Yoongi.”

Oh. He didn’t expect that. Maybe Yoongi should be swallowing back his words by now. He didn’t mean to make his hyung beg to be listened to. Wasn’t this what he’d been waiting and pushing for? Now, Seokjin wants to talk. He should listen. 

“O-okay…” Yoongi reassures the elder but it almost sounds like a question, so he repeats himself. “Okay.”

“So, yeah. It’s about this friend of mine,” Seokjin starts again. His elbows are resting on his knees and he’s leaning over, his chin almost tucked in as he looks down.

Yes, I got that part, Yoongi thinks, holding back from rolling his eyes at his hyung. He then reprimands himself quietly. Just listen.

“He went to a party when he was 19.”

God, what is he even on about? Is he talking about a party his friend went to 8 years ago? How could this possibly be relevant? Does this have something to do with Kang Ji Soo? I hope so.

There’s a short silence and Yoongi observes his hyung as he sighs heavily. His mouth opens and closes a few times as though he’s trying to find the right words. It wakes a small tinge of concern in him and the rapper leans in further.

“Something happened to him there. Some girls put something in his drink.”

... What?

Shocked and incredibly puzzled, Yoongi tries to process the words. Is that...Isn’t that what people do when they want to take advantage...Is this what Seokjin is talking about? Is this why Seokjin pushed Kang Ji Soo back in his senior year? Was she one of these girls at that party? Is Seokjin’s friend okay? What happened to him? No. He actually doesn’t want to know that. The thought alone leaves shivers running down his spine. He has so many questions yet he holds back, willing to let Seokjin explain at his own pace.

With the questions running through his head, Yoongi almost misses Seokjin’s silent voice.

“They…” the elder tries, but his voice cracks. Right then, Yoongi spots a tear falling from Seokjin’s cheek and and landing on his pyjama pants. Seokjin is crying. Unlike that morning two days ago, it pains him, more than he'd like to admit. The elder is breaking down in front of Yoongi about something that happened almost a decade ago now and the rapper finds himself at a loss. There really is something here that he can’t quite grasp.

“Hyung…” he tries to get Seokjin to look at him but the elder doesn’t react.

It’s at that moment, feeling so inadequate and lost, that Yoongi really starts to regret all his harsh, thoughtless words. He’s been inadequate and lost for the last few days. He’s only just realizing it now. 

Now that he has so many questions, that he sees Seokjin so upset and burdened, unable to speak through his tears, Yoongi feels foolish for ever thinking he knew better than Seokjin. Why did he doubt his hyung when he’d always been unequivocally on their side?

Yoongi is once again brought out of his thoughts when Seokjin speaks. This time, Yoongi almost wants to tell him to stop.

“They took him to a room.”

His voice shakes at the revelation, and somewhere in the back of Yoongi’s mind, a terrible, heart wrenching idea starts to form. He keeps its shape vague and unfathomable and shoves it back with a strong resolve. No, that couldn’t possibly be.

He’s starting to ponder though, no matter how much he tries to ignore it, why Seokjin is telling him about his friend at 2am with tears in his eyes and shaking hands. 

‘Something happened to him there.’

‘We’d met before...We weren’t friendly.’

‘...put something in his drink.’

‘...her head bounced off the fucking wall!’

‘I can’t control it.’

‘...you said you couldn’t forgive her and you burst out.’

‘They took him to a room.’

‘Kang Ji Soo-ssi apologized to you.’

She apologized to…to hyung.

No.

That couldn’t be. We couldn’t have missed this. These things don’t happen. They don’t. We would have known. We would have known something! There’s no way. There’s just no way.

Yoongi feels burning heat in his stomach and an acid liquid climbing up his throat but he swallows it down to speak.

“Hyung, what are you saying? What do you mean?!” Yoongi exclaims now, desperate.

Tell me he was okay. Tell me you saved him. Tell me...Tell me this isn’t...Hyung.

Seokjin, despite the desperation slipping through Yoongi’s questions, remains unperturbed, almost as though he’s not quite there. He doesn’t look at Yoongi, doesn’t react, and just keeps on speaking.

“They...they hurt him,” Seokjin says numbly.

They hurt him...They hurt him? As in, they…?

Rape. 

He knows; it’s the word Seokjin doesn’t want to say. He saw the hesitation. Seokjin hadn’t been able to say it.

Yoongi swallows thickly. He was not ready for this, for any of this. This conversation feels out of control, like it’s flying over his head before he has time to do anything about it. All he’s left with is a dangerous, deep sense of loss and sadness. They’re talking about rape. This is what Seokjin is talking about. And Yoongi feels his eyes fill with moisture before he can stop them. He clenches them shut, trying to come back to his sense, but his head swims. 

“A-are you saying…Do you mean he was…?”

He needs to makes sure. All he receives is a subtle nod, but then Seokjin’s hand flies to his mouth to mute a cry and Yoongi can’t. He can’t do this. He needs a break. A full stop. A rewind.

A friend. A friend. A friend...?

‘Was she a lover?’

‘No.’

‘...a party...something in his drink.’

‘Maybe a one night gone south?’

‘Shut up!’

‘They hurt him.’

Fuck. No. It can’t be.

This is nowhere near anything Yoongi thought he would hear tonight. This is nowhere near anything Yoongi can handle. This is not. It’s not. It can’t be. Hyung, no.

“Hyung...Is this...?” Yoongi tries to formulate a question but he can’t. He’s scared out of his mind. He rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans, trying to calm himself.

He’s scared of the question, terrified of the answer, though he already knows, deep down. His breath catches in his throat with a sob that tries to come out but Yoongi doesn’t let it, because he doesn’t need to be this sad. He’s probably confused. He got it wrong. That’s not how it is. It’s a friend. This is all about Seokjin’s friend. But he just needs to ask. He needs to know. 

How can he ask this though? If his hyung is this scared, if this is how Seokjin is confiding in him, how is Yoongi supposed to phrase this? Tact has never been a strength of his, but tonight he tries his very best.

“Your friend...” He chokes again before he can be done. Then, he breathes in deep, unsteady. “Is he...Is he my hyung?” Yoongi asks finally, voice breaking no matter how much he tries to keep it steady. More tears cascade down his cheeks and he runs a hand down his face to wipe them away.

Tell me I’m wrong. Please. Tell me this isn’t you.

But Seokjin doesn’t react, still avoiding his eyes.

Yoongi understands this. It’s a clear and loud affirmation in the silence. He feels his heart fall to his gut, his blood draining from his face. He’s dizzy, vision going awry for a second as he rests his head between his hands.

This is...not possible. There must be a misunderstanding. Seokjin didn’t hear him.

“Are you telling me...Are you telling me that you were— you were...?”

He never says the last word, avoiding it again, the word Seokjin didn’t want to say. He doesn't want to say it either, to feel it bitterly roll off his tongue and into the silence of the night. Once again, his hyung's lack of response tells him what he needs to know. There’s no denial. Seokjin doesn’t shake his head, doesn’t say a word, only his tears keep falling, starting to form a wet patch on the cotton of his pyjamas.

And it hits him like a train, like a ton of bricks, like an avalanche, hard and merciless and devastating. Time stops for a moment; his breaths come slow, his heart misses a beat. Seokjin, his hyung who cooks for them and buys them meals, who tells embarassing dad jokes and calls himself Worldwide Handsome, whose laughter is loud and childish, who apologizes first, whose smiles come easy, who tries his damn best even when he’s being mocked and looked down on, their hyung. Seokjin. Drugged. In a dark room. Overpowered. Assaulted. Raped at 19. And Yoongi never had the slightest clue. How could he have missed this all these years? How could Seokjin manage to keep this from them this whole time? Does anyone else know?

It all makes sense now. Everything falls cruelly into place: the pushing, the running, the hiding, the avoidance. Seokjin was scared. He was terrified, and Yoongi burns with shame and guilt at the realization.

“So, my friend, he tried to forget for a really long time, you know?” Seokjin starts again, and Yoongi almost asks him to stop, this time. The words almost come out but he catches himself before he can utter them. 

There’s just so much . There’s too much to process and Yoongi almost laughs at himself with irony. Who’s the coward, now? 

“He never even told anyone about it. He was so ashamed.”

As he says this, the elder finally looks up to meet Yoongi’s eyes, and the latter is taken aback but only because this is just Seokjin. It’s almost like Yoongi expected him to look different, to be a different person, someone unrecognizable, but no. That’s not it. His eyes are sad and red, they speak of his burden, and there are tear tracks running down his puffy cheeks, but this is his hyung. This is the same Seokjin he’s always known. He sees it more clearly now, how bright he is.

Then, his words hit him. They tell him he’s the first one to know, the first person to find out after all these years, and all because Seokjin is ashamed. He’s been ashamed this whole time. His heart aches even more at the words. How could Seokjin have been so alone for so long? Yoongi won’t let him be alone anymore, won’t let him be ashamed, so he moves closer to sit next to Seokjin. It’s a bit awkward, because Yoongi is not good at this, at providing comfort and reassurance. He never does it if he can avoid it because he always feels like he can’t possibly give enough. He’s no good at it. However, there’s a first time for everything, and tonight Yoongi won’t hide, not when his hyung has opened up to him in the most painful way and is scared. 

“He didn’t have to be,” Yoongi reasssures quietly as he reaches for Seokjin’s hands which lay trembling on his lap. He’s cautious as he wraps his own around them with a gentle squeeze. They keep shaking slightly, but Yoongi’s grip is steady.

At this, Seokjin looks down again, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze.

“He couldn’t help it.”

That’s okay , Yoongi thinks. I won’t judge you anymore. I’m sorry.

“He was really good at— at...at forgetting and pretending it never happened.”

Maybe too good.

“But then, years later, a woman he didn’t know was seducing him. He didn’t see her coming.”

Oh. The club. That woman. 

“She had him against a wall. He told her to let go, he did, but she— she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t,” Seokjin explains, tone getting more and more agitated, hands holding tightly unto Yoongi’s as though scared to be let go of and his shining eyes look at him as if begging Yoongi to understand and, for the first time, Yoongi sees the situation in a clear light. He had been so wrong.

That woman was sexually harrassing his band mate, and Yoongi had blamed him for defending himself. Even if Seokjin hadn’t already been absolutely traumatized, he was in all his right to do anything in his power to get her to fuck off . She deserved it, and Yoongi thinks he deserves far worse for making his hyung feel like he was to blame, and all for the sake of his career.

‘You really think that’s what matters right now?’

‘...at least I tried. That’s more than can be said for yourself.’

‘We’re wasting time here.’

‘What do you keep running away from?’

‘Maybe a one night gone south?’

‘Stop hiding and running away from this!’

‘You can’t do this again, Seokjin.’

‘Clearly, your best hasn’t been enough.’

His own words pour over him like a bucket of ice. His greed had blinded him. He can’t describe how much he hates himself right now. It’s everything he never wanted to be. He only hopes Seokjin didn’t listen to him, that he doesn’t actually blame himself.

“He was reminded of those girls at that party. He really, really couldn’t tell the difference, for a moment.”

‘He really, really couldn’t tell the difference...’

‘They took him to a room...They hurt him.’

Seokjin hadn’t just been scared, he had lost touch with reality, had relived those painful moments.

Isn’t that what people call a flashback? Does he get these often? He never even talked to a professional about this. This is insane. How did he even get this far?

“My friend got really...really scared. You understand, Yoon?” Seokjin asks with that same look in his eyes which seems to be begging and Yoongi wonders if it’s because Seokjin has always been ashamed or because Yoongi was so cruel that Seokjin doesn’t trust him to understand. Maybe it’s both.

The rapper only nods. He’s too choked up and his voice wouldn’t make a sound if he tried to use it. It seems to be enough though, because Seokjin’s shoulders sag as though releasing painful tension and his eyes seem to brighten the slightest bit. He speaks again.

“So, my friend, he pushed her off.”

“He didn’t mean to.”

“He really could've hurt her.”

“But he didn’t.”

“He thought he was back in that room.”

“He was keeping himself safe.”

“He couldn’t control it.”

“That’s okay, hyung. That’s okay.”

They talk like that back and forth, both of them tearful and quiet, and Yoongi is quick to soothe Seokjin’s fearful explanations. For a moment, there’s silence. Yoongi can see the wheels turning in Seokjin’s head. Once again, his mouth opens and closes without uttering a word. Yoongi waits patiently.

“Do you think he’s a coward, my friend?” Seokjin asks, blinking rapidly, looking more fearful, more quiet and cautious than he’s been until now. It’s so unlike him that it unsettles Yoongi further, intensifying the pain in his chest.

Yoongi wants a rewind button. He took all the wrong turns. Now, after enduring so much so bravely, Seokjin is right here asking Yoongi if he’s a coward, and Yoongi only wants to bang his head on a wall.

“I think I’m the biggest asshole on this planet,” Yoongi answers truthfully, and he’s glad his crude answer at least manages to earn a chuckle from his hyung.

“Ha! What are you even talking about? This is all...It's all about my friend...”

How can he laugh like this when he’s in pain?  Yoongi asks himself in wonder, but it only takes a few seconds for that laughter to morph into something much more painful and heart wrenching. His lips curl down now and his brows gather in a deep frown as Seokjin starts to cry in earnest. Seokjin is unraveling, collapsing like dominos right in front of his eyes and it’s so, so painful to see. Yoongi has never witnessed the elder look this heartbroken, this pitiful. The sounds he makes, choked and muffled into quiet whimpers, reach Yoongi’s heart and twist his gut. 

Soon, Seokjin is covering his face with his hands, probably embarrassed to be seen in such a state but unable to hold his cries in. Desperate to reassure him, to take away his shame and soothe his cries, Yoongi awkwardly wraps his arms around him and brings him against his chest, cold persona long forgotten. It’s even more painful to feel the tremors that run through his hyung’s spine. He himself can’t help the tears that fall faster, but he keeps squeezing, running his hands up and down Seokjin’s back, hoping to ease a little bit of his pain.

“Hyung...I’m so sorry. I take it all back…” Yoongi starts speaking quietly to his hyung. The latter only holds tighter unto him, curling further into his chest and gripping the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m so, so sorry. I swear I’ll be on your side from now on,” he continues soothingly, before adding an “I love you, hyung.”

And Yoongi sits there, only Seokjin’s cries filling the room, trying to process the last half hour. The most prominent feeling is sadness. Of course, Yoongi feels guilty, but it would be selfish to make this all about himself. No. Most of all, Yoongi is sad for his hyung. No matter how hard he tries to get rid of the images, his mind goes back to that room, to how it must have felt, at 19, to be alone, drugged, confused, in a room with people that took advantage of him, that made him vulnerable and scared then used him like an object for their entertainment. It's so disturbing, so disgusting, and the nausea is now persistent. It won't leave. He might really throw up once this is over. He can’t imagine how Seokjin must be feeling, being blamed for his trauma, for being triggered, the world pinned against him.

None of this is his fault. Seokjin is still coping and it’s obvious. To Yoongi, it seems like he never actually could cope. He wonders if he can convince Seokjin of seeing a therapist. Seokjin needs someone he can count on, a professional. He needs help, and Yoongi doesn’t think he can do it on his own. With everything that’s happening, Yoongi is scared things will only get worse, and despite how brave Seokjin has been up to now, Yoongi can’t help but be afraid for him.

After sadness, Yoongi feels admiration. He can’t conceive how Seokjin could have possibly come this far without ever telling anyone, without getting justice or any kind of support. Seokjin just carried on, bright, optimistic, and so full of energy that it’s almost unrealistic to think that he struggled with something of this magnitude.

Then, a thought crosses his mind and Yoongi’s arms tighten around Seokjin’s middle reflexively. Who is Kang Ji Soo?

“Did Kang Ji Soo…” Yoongi speaks before he can think twice. “Was she one of them?”

Seokjin, now slightly more calm, his cries having subsided to hiccups and tears, sits back, uncurling himself from Yoongi’s chest.

“There were two girls,” Seokjin reveals. “She was one of them.”

Yoongi swallows thickly at the words, feeling another wave of nausea overcome him. He didn’t think his heart could get any heavier but it does; it feels unbearably heavy as it beats wildly in his chest. Yoongi, along with the rest of BTS and their managers, had forcefully sent Seokjin to meet his rapist, sit down face to face with her, and apologize . How messed up is that? How cruel? Yoongi can’t dwell on it for too long. He’s burning with fury, doesn’t know what he’ll do if he keeps thinking about it.

“Hyung?”

Seokjin looks up with lids half closed. He must be exhausted beyond belief. Has he slept at all?

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a coward. I can’t begin to explain how brave you are.”

At this, Seokjin’s head falls back to rest on the couch. He smiles. It looks peaceful.

“You don’t need to. I only told you so I could sleep. Now shut up and go to bed.”

Chapter Text

“Anger rules the world

It seems that no one can live without anger

You get angry, then get angry again, and again

And you go crazy that way”

Hoseok follows the tempo, but the last line there doesn’t sound quite right yet. Namjoon, who had been listening intently, is looking at him with a blank expression. There’s an awkward silence as Hoseok and Namjoon look at each other over the sound of Yoongi’s fast-paced scribbling. Hoseok, eyes hesitant, is about to ask for feedback, but then his friend’s face breaks into an overly excited grin, eyes wide in adoration.

“Hobi oppa!” He chants loudly in the small room, and Hoseok chuckles, unruffled. It’s Namjoon’s new favorite hobby: making fun of ARMY. “I can’t believe you actually invented rap!” His voice is purposefully high pitched as his hand flies to his mouth and he proceeds to release equally high pitched cries until Yoongi kicks his foot under the table without looking up from his notes.

“Ow! Hyung...” The leader whines, reaching for his foot though it probably doesn’t really hurt at all, and Yoongi finally looks up, eyebrows knitted and lips pursed into a thin line. It looks like he might walk out on them any second now, and Hoseok gets ready to mediate. Maybe it’s not a good time for this.

“Stop it, Namjoon. That’s not what they sound like.” Yoongi sounds overly irritated, but then his own voice turns into a girlish, much louder squeal that has the other two jumping back in their seats. “Hobi oppa!!” 

At this, the room fills with laughter. Hoseok himself can’t help but let out his own, much higher, much louder squeal. He’s not one to turn down a challenge like this. Soon, all three men are aiming for the highest pitch, and the room is filled with chaos. 

But when the laughter dies down, in the silence that follows reins an underlying discomfort. It’s a bit hesitant, a bit forced. They know, without having to say it, that banter doesn’t come easily when the tension is in the air and deep in their bones. It’s odd to sit together and forget for a moment. And, though it’s somehow a relief, it’s also unsettling. Despite the way their thoughts wander, not always directly linked to the events of the last few days, the body and the mind are not so quick to forget. They are not fooled by a moment of bliss. Their laughter is slightly off, coming from tight chests, and their eyes don’t meet with the usual familiarity.

“Suga hyung.” The rapper looks up at Hoseok’s call. “Last night...I think you were out of line.”

Namjoon looks between the two in silence.

“You might be right...but I don’t like this, not at all. He’s being irresponsible. Did you see him today? He could barely follow along.”

“But hyung, it’s not going to help anyone if we end up fighting,” Namjoon intervenes, agreeing with Hoseok.

“I know that! But he’s got to understand that this is affecting all of us as a group and he has to take responsiblity.”

Hoseok does think Yoongi has a point. That morning, Hoseok had woken up to find BTS in the middle of a scandal. He was left puzzled by that video and Yoongi’s recounting of the previous night’s events. He’d thought that Seokjin might have known the woman in question, but it hadn’t seemed to be the case. Then, there was that article, and Seokjin’s admission that he’d been caught in a similar situation before. During dance practices he had been distracted and aloof. He’d also apparently left in the middle of a meeting yesterday. Then there was that shove yesterday, which had left them all a bit speechless. Overall, Seokjin’s behaviour certainly has left much to be desired, lately.

“I have this feeling like he’s got something— like he’s hiding something,” Hoseok suggests, voicing a thought he’s been pondering on for a few hours now. 

“You think? What could he be hiding?”

“I don’t know…”

He’s not too sure what to make of Namjoon’s question. What could it be? He doesn’t know. He only knows what his intuition tells him. Seokjin has something in his mind, something they’re not privy to.

“I suggest we leave this alone for now,” Namjoon says with a sigh after a few seconds of silence. “There’s nothing more we can do. Let’s not mention it. Let’s not talk about it. Clearly, I was wrong for bringing it up last night. Should we do that?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

The morning that follows, until the very last minute and despite everyone’s protests, Yoongi stops anyone who tries to wake Seokjin, mysteriously claiming that their hyung hadn’t gotten much sleep that night, despite the fact that he was the first to lock himself in his room the previous evening. Hoseok is a bit baffled by the attitude. Then, when Seokjin finally walks inside the kitchen, and all the members are scattering around to shove something inside their mouths lest they starve for the next six hours or so, Hoseok doesn’t miss the small bowl of rice topped with eggs and veggies that Yoongi quietly slides across the counter to Seokjin, muttering something in his ear. Hoseok can’t help but stare for a moment, puzzled, before he walks out. Yoongi’s attitude is suspiciously different this morning. 

*

Seokjin sits in front of a mirror, a stylist arranging his hair and another adding final touches to his face. Namjoon and Taehyung, at his sides, are in a similar position while Jimin and Jungkook lay on a couch behind them, the elder snoozing lightly on the maknae’s lap while the latter grimaces at his phone as his fingers move wildly, probably absorbed in some video game. In the corner, Hoseok seems to be talking to the director of the shoot.

Everything feels a bit rushed today. On top of his own sluggish, disoriented brain, everything is actually rushed. They’re leaving for Japan early in the evening and they have to be done with this shoot in a few hours, tops. Thus, Seokjin’s world feels like it’s going at twice its usual speed. He can barely keep up, so he’s thankful for the time he can sit here and not talk to or listen to anyone, even if it means two women looming over him and invading his space. He’s used to this. It’s just that it’s gotten a bit harder now, a bit more difficult to bear.

It’s odd how talking makes everything a bit better but also so much worse. Yoongi knows now. One other person knows, but it feels like a leak; it’s now out of his control and it’s spilling out into the world, tainting it. Despite the rapper’s reassurances, Seokjin can’t help now but be embarrassed. He can’t meet the younger’s eyes, can barely talk to him. And now that he’s uncovered the first layer of dust, now that he’s started flailing to get to the surface, he feels undeniably, impossibly heavier. The grief is now inside and around him and pouring and bleeding. Now, he can’t stop thinking in what ifs . 

What if I hadn’t been there that night?

What if I hadn’t had that drink? 

What if I had screamed louder? 

What if I had told someone before? 

What if I had sued them? 

Would anyone have believed me?

Would I still be where I am now?

What if I’m just too weak to get past it? 

What if Yoongi is secretly disgusted by me?  

What if he thinks of me in that position and feels his stomach churning the way mine does whenever I remember? 

What if the love I get as Jin from BTS is similar to the attention I got back then? 

What if it’s filled with lust?

What if my worth is only ever determined by how appealing I am?

Is that really all there is to me?

Is that what I am to BTS as well?

It’s supposed to be a relief, to share, and though it sort of is, Seokjin is also thinking of all the ways he could have avoided being right here, where he is. He thinks of all the ways he could have avoided telling anyone ever. That could have happened if he hadn’t had anything to tell in the first place. Couldn’t he just pretend that was the case? 

And then there’s this distant feeling, growing, like he’s watching himself in the rear view mirror, getting farther and farther away. Who was he between then and now? It’s almost like all these years have been wretched and removed and now he’s back to square one, but he doesn’t know where that leaves him. The distance grows between the person he was and the person he is, and he feels like a lone stranger in a room full of people that he’s supposed to love, that are supposed to love him back. Who do they love? What for?

“Jin-ssi, open your eyes.”

‘Open your eyes, Jinnie. Look at me.’

The stylist’s words take a few seconds to sink in with the other voice that echoes in his head. Closing his eyes helps with the pounding in his head that won’t let up. He opens them, thinks he’ll need some more aspirin soon. He’s surprised to find Sejin staring back at him in the mirror. In fact, the man is standing right next to him. Seokjin’s eyes scan the room. Yoongi’s still on set. For some reason, his heart sinks slightly at the realization.

“Good morning, Seokjin.” The singer nods his head in acknowledgement. Any further movement would bother the stylists and bothered stylists are not so gentle. Seokjin would prefer avoiding any rough treatment right now. “Choi-ssi has come to see us, to see you. Apparently, you gave her a concussion or something.” The manager rubs his forehead in frustration. “You need to come up for a few minutes.”

As Seokjin feels himself pale at the words, he catches his band mates eyes in the mirror. They’re observing him, listening, trying to be subtle. He sees shame in their eyes, and disappointment, but maybe that’s just him and how he feels about himself. He doesn’t have what it takes right now, to read anyone’s emotions but his own. He only walks towards the table behind him, reaching for the inside of his jacket, and finds a little bottle of pills that he opens smoothly, popping a few inside his mouth. He’s losing count of how many of these he’s had in the last 48 hours.

By the time they get to a little office tucked in the corner of a hallway on the eleventh floor, Sejin’s recited a whole novel and Seokjin can’t help but wonder if his mouth is running dry by now. He hopes so, then maybe he can have a blissful moment of silence. Choi-ssi called. Her name is Choi Inhee. She sent them medical bills. She’s asking for compensation. She’s very upset. Seokjin really messed up. Seokjin needs to be more careful this time. “Please, please, just be nice,” Sejin asks pitifully. Sure, Seokjin thinks, I just want to be left alone. I’ll do anything. 

But really, he’s a bit shaky and his stomach burns. He really did hurt her.

This room is a bit different from the last one. There’s two couches facing each other with a coffee table in the middle. The woman from that night, Inhee-ssi, is sitting with a firm scowl when Seokjin and the manager walk through the door. They greet each other shortly. Seokjin is not in the mood for this. He thinks she should apologize. She was rude. She was disrespectful. She didn’t listen when I told her to stop. His cheeks burn at the thought. It’s unsettling, to feel this guilty and this angry at the same time. It kind of makes him want to cry, but if Seokjin has to cry again he’ll hit his head on a wall. No, Seokjin, stop crying. Stop being a victim.

Before any of them can stop it, the woman is on a never-ending rant. Seokjin would feel more guilty if she wasn’t so stuck up and arrogant.

“I didn’t even do anything to you and you just attacked me! You’re lucky I’m not pressing charges!” Seokjin has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping back.

Apparently, she’d woken up the morning after with a headache and had thrown up after breakfast. A doctor had confirmed she might have a concussion and a radiography had proven it right. Seokjin does feel shame and guilt stir up in his gut. He’s really growing to hate himself a little. It’s not pleasant. It’s not pleasant either to be this angry at someone else and at himself at the same time. It’s not fair that she won’t admit she did anything wrong at all. As the rant goes on and on, she demands that Seokjin himself pay for her medical bills and her compensation. She refuses to have the company pay for them. Seokjin agrees through gritted teeth and both proceed to sign a non-disclosure agreement which comes in through the door with a short man in a suit. Probably another lawyer.

“I’m truly sorry for my behavior and for hurting you.”

“You’re lucky I’m not asking you to kneel.”

Seokjin can’t help the scoff. The ice cold glare he gets from Sejin shuts him up.

She leaves soon after, and Seokjin has a short discussion with his manager or, more like, Seokjin has to put through another monologue. Seokjin, at one point, can’t help but note to himself that Sejin’s rant is just plain complaining, so he indulges him and nods and hums at the right places, muttering little reassurances here and there, “I understand” and “I’m sorry” being the most recurrent. Their manager is stressed out of his wits. A lot is going on, and the least Seokjin can do is be polite and acknowledge it. After a short trip to the washroom where he splashes his face with cold water and stares blankly into the mirror for a few minutes, the singer makes his way down another corridor to take the elevator. 

When the door opens, though, he finds Choi Inhee standing there, smiling at him like they’ve never met, like they didn’t just meet and she didn’t snap at him and demand money and apologies. For a moment, Seokjin wants to flee. He should avoid this situation, but his feet walk him inside the elevator before he can think better of it, because a twisted sense of pride won’t let him walk away right now. It’s purely about fighting his instinct. I will not run from the wild dog. It’s the promise he silently made to Yoongi. It echoes inside his head. 

But as soon as the doors close and he’s standing next to her in the confined space, Seokjin regrets it. It’s only a few second, but it’s too long. 

There’s no reason why she should have been in this elevator in the first place! It doesn’t make sense! His mind screams at him but it’s too late. He’s cornered again as she turns to him, chest flush against his and arms holding onto the handrail behind him from both sides.

“I was hoping I’d get you alone,” she whispers in his ear. “All of that fuss for this.”

Then her lips are on his, sucking as her teeth graze and her whole body is pressing against his for a mere second, but it feels longer, much longer. Maybe a whole lifetime. Her lips are hot but his chest is hotter, so hot that it’s almost like it is freezing. Then her tongue pokes inside his mouth. Salty. Wet. Disgusting. Her lips taste of plastic, of lipstick. And then, it’s gone. She’s gone, but there’s Yoongi.

Yoongi is there, in front of him. He seems angry but Seokjin can’t hear him through the ringing in his ears, not for a second. Then he hears him. He’s screaming.

“Go before I knock out your teeth!”

She’s walking away. Yoongi’s very upset. Seokjin doesn’t really mind. He doesn’t really care. He tries to breathe, to expand his chest, but not enough air makes it past his tight airways. It’s frustrating. He holds on to the handrail behind him; his legs are shaking. It’s annoying. Everything is annoying.

This stupid, stupid headache! And these useless legs! And this disgusting, dry mouth! Disgusting!

When the doors open again, Seokjin walks out, back to the set again.

Chapter Text

When Yoongi walks inside the dressing room after his solo shoot that morning, his eyes scan the room.

“Where did Seokjin hyung go?” He asks Jungkook with a slight tap to his shoulder. A few eyes in the room turn in his direction. Jungkook looks up from where he sits on the small sofa, tense and eyebrows slightly pulled down.

“I think he left with Sejin hyung a while ago...Why?”

“Why did he leave with Sejin hyung?” Yoongi asks, ignoring the younger’s own question.

“Uhm...I think something about that lady from the club coming to complain about an injury or something?”

A few curses fall under his breath and Yoongi’s turning around, storming out before anyone can stop him. Fuck! Yoongi knows it’s not his fault; he can’t help leaving Seokjin alone, because they’re adults. Yoongi has responsibilities and so does his hyung. But, Yoongi thinks, if it was up to me, things would be different. For one, Seokjin wouldn’t be up somewhere in a stifling small office with his clueless manager and this opportunist woman. No. If it were up to me, everyone would know.

It’s not a helpful thought, though. Yoongi knows that. It is not up to him. Not much is, really. He feels useless, helpless for the first time in a long time. He feels it even more so when, after a few impatient pokes at the elevator button, the doors to the one on his left open to reveal a woman’s back. She’s leaning against someone’s body. 

He recognizes this scene. Before he’s fully processed it, Yoongi is inside with them, a hand already grabbing the woman’s shoulder, pulling her back. To his dismay, it is, in fact, the same scene. This time though, Seokjin is not fleeing. He’s frozen, his eyes glassy and out of focus, mouth ajar and knuckles white from gripping the handrail behind him. Yoongi’s never seen such a thing, and it makes panic rise in his gut. But it only takes a second for the panic to light into fury, and he’s fully aware of who is going to take the brunt this time. The doors close behind him.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi all but spits the words to the woman’s face. The initial irritation at the interruption fades to transform into fear at Yoongi’s evident anger. Lastly, she looks back at Seokjin, and Yoongi is almost appalled by the confusion and alarm that overtake her features. What an idiot.

“I just...I just thought because...We were alone.”

Yoongi can’t believe the nerve this woman has, to stand in front of him and attempt to justify herself.

“You thought you could assault him now that there’s no one to see it?” He’s all but fuming, his voice echoing in the small elevator. When she attempts to sidestep him, Yoongi pushes at her shoulders and her back hits the wall behind her.

“No! I wasn’t —I didn’t,” she stammers, glancing between Yoongi and Seokjin’s unmoving form worriedly. “I thought he just didn’t want anyone to see,” she explains, her voice losing volume and confidence as the last words leave her mouth.

Yoongi’s own voice is ice cold and low when he speaks again. “Well, guess what? You thought wrong.” A sigh. “Go.”

At this, Yoongi pushes the button to open the elevator doors and he steps back. As she’s passing the threshold, she turns around.

“I really didn’t mean to.”

In that moment, Yoongi really thinks he might lose it. He sees red, and he has to ball his hands into fists by his sides before he does something he’ll regret.

“I must have misunders—”

“Go before I knock out your teeth!” 

She leaves hurriedly then. Good, that’s done. Now, what?

When he turns around, Seokjin hasn’t moved an inch, and Yoongi feels the panic coming back, the object of his anger having left. The doors close again.

“Hyung…” Yoongi calls out to him, and his hands hover over his hyung’s shoulders but he doesn’t want to startle Seokjin, wouldn’t want to cause any more distress, so he lets his hands fall back down to his sides.

“Can you hear me? Jin hyung?” But beyond a slow blink, the elder doesn’t react. However, as Yoongi goes to gently pat him a few seconds later, seeing no other option, Seokjin’s face contorts into a mask of anger and frustration, eyes filling with tears, but none fall. Yoongi’s heart aches at the sight. What is going through Seokjin’s head? 

Before Yoongi can react, the doors open again and he glances back, realizing someone is probably about to walk in. Seokjin’s gaze seems to follow his and Yoongi sees a moment of dull awakening in his eyes. Then, the elder’s walking out, his steps heavy and uncoordinated.

Startled, Yoongi follows him, ready to catch him. Scared his hyung will trip and fall, Yoongi keeps his palms raised and hovering near Seokjin’s arms. 

“God, Yoongi! I’m not an infant!” Seokjin snaps suddenly at him. It’s ironically reassuring, the acknowledgement, the eye contact, the reaction. It’s also worrying, the panic he sees bubbling beneath the surface, the thin layer of sweat lining his forehead, the pallor of his complexion. 

“Sorry, hyung, I’m just worried. You really don’t look good.” Please, hyung, calm down.

Seokjin stops in his steps, and it seems to disorient him more than it does Yoongi because he shakes his head slightly, as if clearing his mind—or could it be his vision?— before he faces the shorter man again.

“Well, I guess that’s what happens when you face your demons, right? I thought that’s what you told me to do!” Seokjin spits viciously, eyes staring daggers into Yoongi’s soul.

Oh. Did Seokjin somehow resign himself to his assault because of Yoongi’s words? Well, fuck me. Fuck.

“Hyung, no, God! I told you I take it back! I told you I was sorry!”

For a second, Seokjin searches Yoongi’s eyes, and the latter knows—he just knows —Seokjin is fighting himself. He’s pondering; am I angry or am I sad? Do I want to lash out or do I want to be in control? Finally, it seems the elder comes to a decision as he deflates, his whole body slumping as if being drained. He heaves a long sigh then turns back to face down the hallway.

“I know, Yoongi. I know. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

But Yoongi can’t let him apologize right now, can’t let his hyung blame himself. 

“No, hyung. I’m the one who should be sorry. I am.”

Seokjin sends him a quick side smile in quiet reassurance. Yoongi sends one back, but he knows this is not the end of it. He wants to talk about this. He wants Seokjin to talk about this. But will he ever?

Back in the dressing room, the stylists welcome them heatedly, with exasperated questions and exclamations. Before long, both members are grabbed aside and given new outfits. Hurriedly, Yoongi retreats to a little cubicle in the corner. It’s a white suit. White dress pants. White everything. It makes Yoongi a little apprehensive. Hopefully, these will stay intact. God, how he wants to be done with this. He’s too anxious, too unsettled to sit in front of a camera and look photogenic and appealing.

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud squeal to his left and a sudden burst of movement and noise. On instinct, his eyes move to the source of the disturbance and Yoongi freezes for a moment. Seokjin stands face-to-face with one of the stylists, her wrist caught tightly in his hand, close to his neck. The collar of his dress shirt seems to be folded awkwardly. Namjoon and Jimin are moving forward, ready to intervene, but Seokjin’s eyes are cold and unmoving in front of him.

“Hyung, what are you doing? Let go,” Namjoon orders.

When Seokjin makes no move to let go, the stylist makes the same request while pushing at his chest harshly with her free hand. Immediately, Seokjin lets go, hand going slack and body cowering away. The movement is so sudden that the singer stumbles back and falls on his butt. 

At the sight, Yoongi rushes to his hyung, worried, but as he falls on his knees next to Seokjin, the elder cowers further, using his hands to slide his body away from the small crowd. By now, all of their members are standing nearby, perplexed.

"Get away from me!" Seokjin screams, looking up, but his eyes are out of focus again. Though there are a dozen people in the room, Seokjin is not looking at anyone. His eyes meet an empty space, but he sees something. He's looking at empty space as though someone was, in fact, standing there.

"What's going on, hyung?" 

The only response he receives is Seokjin's fastening breaths. His arms and legs shake as well, and suddenly Yoongi is scared. He's out of his depth, again. He does have the presence of mind to block Taehyung's arm as it attempts to wrap around his hyung. When Yoongi looks up to meet his eyes, he finds Taehyung's large ones looking lost and desperate with concern, but Yoongi shakes his head, signaling him to back off.

"Not again, please, leave me alone. Why won't you leave me alone?!" Seokjin exclaims madly between hitching breaths, eyes wild and a thin layer of sweat dripping down the side of his face . Is he warm? Does he have a fever? What the fuck is going on?

His thoughts are echoed by Namjoon, who sets a hand on his shoulder before whispering a "what in the actual hell is going on here" under his breath, right next to Yoongi's ear. "Fuck if I know," Yoongi bites back.

Seokjin's breath hitches horribly then, making a high pitched whistling sound, and then his upper body leans forward, arms outstretched to keep him from collapsing on the floor. He's sick. His mouth opens and Yoongi barely has the time to catch on and move out of the way before there's a puddle of vomit on the floor right next to him.

"Oh, fuck…" Yoongi can hear Jungkook mutter lowly from behind him.

As soon as the shock passes, all members are rushing towards Seokjin, sick with worry, but the latter only cowers away weakly, eyelids drooping and eyes glassy before his arms give in under him. Yoongi barely has time to step forward, his white dress pants instantly drenched as his knees land on the warm puddle, but he doesn't care. At least he catches his hyung before his head hits the floor.

Chapter Text

From the moment Seokjin's head falls heavily unto Yoongi's hands, Namjoon's world tilts slightly. It's slower but faster, each second prolonging itself but stumbling hastily unto the next.

one, two.

Like he did just a few days ago, Namjoon counts the seconds. It’s important to count seconds, in moments like these. Namjoon always does. When Jimin had stopped eating, when he’d started fainting after concerts and in the middle of the studio, Namjoon had started doing it. The first time it had happened, he had panicked, had absolutely lost it. The medic who had tended to Jimin had reassured him when the latter had woken up after a few seconds. 

“He just fainted. He’ll be alright.”

“But what if he didn’t wake up? What if he was dying?” Namjoon had mumbled, voice shaking, more to himself than to the man, but the medic hadn’t answered for a few minutes, busy with Jimin’s head cradled in one hand and a water bottle in the other. Later, rising from Jimin’s side, he’d taught Namjoon something: count the seconds.

“First, you make sure they’re breathing, then give it a minute tops. You try to wake them up, but if it’s not working, after a minute, you need to call an ambulance. Got that, buddy?”

“Yes, sir.”

So, Namjoon counts the seconds as he kneels next to Yoongi and presses his cheek against the tip of Seokjin’s nose.

five, six.

“He’s breathing.”

Staff are rushing in and out of the room. Someone is apologizing.

“What is going on here? I need all the boys on set in exactly…Wow, is he okay?”

Namjoon doesn’t know if anyone answers. He’s never been so scared for one of his bandmates, can’t comprehend what he just witnessed, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that, now. He slaps lightly at Seokjin’s cheeks, shakes his shoulders too. 

ten, eleven.

“Go get Sejin-ssi!”

He doesn’t know who said that, but he silently thanks them.

Hoseok is crouching by Seokjin’s feet, rubbing the elder’s ankle in some odd attempt at comfort. Seokjin is not responding. His skin is clammy, his face snow white, his lips pale. Why did Seokjin ask Yoongi to get away from him? Why was he so upset?

“Help me get him on the couch.” Yoongi mumbles, maneuvering Seokjin’s body. Namjoon obeys.

eighteen, nineteen.

“Hyung, what’s happening to him?”

Namjoon’s head rises to see Jungkook wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his tuxedo. The white fabric comes off stained with foundation and eye shadow. It’s ruined, like Yoongi’s pants, like his own.

twenty-three, twenty-four.

“I don’t know…”

Is Seokjin sick? Is he exhausted? Was it a hallucination? Is he not eating? Is he on something? He would never.

twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

This is long. This is becoming too long. He’s never counted this long. Namjoon’s heart starts to beat uncomfortably fast. Let him wake up soon, please. 

“Hyung! Jin hyung!” It’s Yoongi who shakes his shoulders this time. Taehyung is pacing behind the rapper, and Jimin pulls him into a hug.

thirty-two, thirty-three.

Water splashes unto Seokjin’s head and unto the leather beneath him. Hoseok holds an empty water bottle. Nothing. No reaction at all. The droplets slide down Seokjin’s face and cling to his hair.

“Fuck it. I’m calling an ambulance.” Jimin’s phone is pressed to his ear. Nobody speaks until he does again. “My friend is unconscious. He needs an ambulance.” No greetings. No niceties. Should he stop counting?

forty, forty-one.

He can’t.

“You think we haven’t tried that?!” Jimin’s face is contorted in anger. Hoseok rubs at his shoulder.

If Seokjin doesn’t wake up in the next 20 seconds, what does that mean?

Namjoon’s jaw clenches, teeth harshly squeezed between his teeth. He’ll wake up soon.

“Wake up, hyung!” Taehyung’s voice is close to a shout as he leans next to Yoongi’s frame to run a hand through Seokjin’s black hair. With his sleeve, he softly dabs at his hyung’s soiled lips. Taehyung’s tuxedo is ruined now too.

forty-eight, forty-nine.

As fifty resonates dreadfully inside his mind, a groan is heard from where Seokjin lies on the couch. At the sound, everyone freezes, watching the man with hawk eyes. Washed with relief, Namjoon moves to get a better look as the singer’s lids part slowly. His face twists with pain, eyes clenching shut.

“Jin hyung.”

In lieu of an answer, there’s another groan, then Seokjin turns to lay a flat hand against the arm of the couch, pushing himself into a sitting position, the heel of his other hand pressed against his temple. His head hurts , Namjoon notes as he hooks an arm around his hyung’s shoulders to help him up. Seokjin blinks a few times as his bandmates draw closer instinctively. Yoongi breaks the silence.

“Hyung.” He waits for Seokjin’s eyes to meet his. They do, slowly. “How do you feel?”

Namjoon observes Seokjin’s Adam's apple as it bobs up and down, his eyes shifting down then sideways. Hoseok has come with another water bottle. This time, he desposits it in Seokjin’s hands with a gentle tap on his shoulder. The singer’s hands visibly shake with tremors when he lifts the bottle to meet his lips. 

“Did I just...throw up on the floor and pass out?” Seokjin asks incredulously after gulping down half the bottle.

Namjoon chuckles lightly before he can stop himself, but the sound hangs awakwardly in the air. Why did he do that?

“Yeah, you did.”

There’s no one to fill the silence before it becomes heavy.

“I really got a flair for the dramatic, don’t I?” Seokjin mumbles shakily, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

No one laughs, but Jimin doesn’t miss a beat.

“What the fuck, hyung?” He spits in disbelief before his eyes widen, mind catching up with the words that just tumbled out of his mouth. He doesn’t retract, but Yoongi extends him an invitation to with a deadly glare.

“Jimin, shut up. Will you?”

Sensing the rising tension, Namjoon’s leader instincts kick in. He’d forgotten about the world, for a few minutes. The panic has passed, and though its remnants still course through his veins and leave him sick with worry, the clock is ticking.

“Alright, let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be. Jimin, did you tell them not to come before you hung up?”

Jimin nods.

Thought he's dying to ask more questions to Seokjin, Namjoon knows that he can't, not here nor now. The weight of realization settles right in the middle of his chest and over his shoulders. He wants to be Seokjin’s friend right now, not his leader, not a band mate, but he can’t.

He looks around the room finally, assessing the situation. The photographer and director of the shoot are sitting, perplexed, by the corner. A stage manager and two women Namjoon is not able to identify are hovering awkwardly at the edges of the room, probably too curious to leave but too polite to intrude. Namjoon can sympathize. Most people seem to have left. He turns back to face Seokjin, crouching down before him to meet his eyes. He squeezes his hyung’s knee for reassurance and doesn’t miss the odd reaction, an immediate tension that makes Namjoon’s hand retract in a heartbeat. He doesn’t acknowledge it, but the weight in his chest flares like a wildfire.

“Once Sejin hyung gets here, I’m going to make sure we get you a doctor. For the time being, I think you should just lie down, alright?”

Before he's finished his sentence, Namjoon is thinking about what’s next: give instructions to his bandmates, talk to the director, possibly cancel this photoshoot, get ready for that flight—fuck. Is it getting warmer in here? Maybe he needs some water too. How important was this photoshoot again? Will they have time to make up for it?

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“What?” Namjoon blurts out, train of thought abruptly interrupted. Is he serious? He can't be. But when he meets his eyes, Seokjin is looking at him with a silent plea.

“I might have...not eaten much in the last few days? I also, well, I…”

The first confession worries him, has images of Jimin’s skin and bones body flashing behind his eyelids. But it doesn’t surprise him. He can conceive how that might have made whatever happened here worse. Seokjin’s hesitance, the way he's struggling to meet Namjoon's eyes and to put his words together, tells the leader that what’s next bears much more weight in the current situation.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I wasn’t thinking about it, but I’ve had really bad headaches lately, and I think I might have gone overboard with the aspirin…?”

Really bad headaches sounds familiar. Yes, he'd just noticed the elder's pain not a minute ago. It's a stressful time, even more so for the eldest, so Seokjin's words awaken his compassion. Maybe the headaches had been that bad. In that case, his hyung should most definitely see a doctor.

...But then Seokjin's last words sink in. Aspirin can not possibly be the problem, right? How much would it even take? And he claims he didn't do it on purpose, but what is Namjoon supposed to think?

“What do you mean? How many could you possibly have taken for it to get this bad?”

Seokjin still won't meet his eyes, and a glance at Yoongi's stunned face tells Namjoon that this is really as serious as he's fearing it might be.

“Too many...”

Yes, okay. That much is clear. So, why is Seokjin saying he doesn’t need a doctor? If Namjoon were to list reasons why people may need medical attention, poisoning would most definitely be one of them.

“How many, hyung? How many?” Namjoon can’t help but prod. At any other time, he might have felt guilty, prodding at his hyung with such a question, at such a moment, but right now, he can most definitely feel his emotions take the lead. He feels hot all over, desperate to understand. Namjoon finds himself close to the edge, tittering dangerously and at a loss, losing his grip.

“I—I don’t know, okay? I just took a few here and there and I wasn’t counting...”

He wasn’t counting?

And it’s not that Namjoon doesn’t want to be Seokjin’s friend right now but there is so much to take care of and this is the very last straw. Seokjin just passed out in the middle of a photoshoot before a flight to Japan because he’s been taking aspirin like candy. But aspirin is not candy, and Seokjin is old enough to know that. In fact, he’s the eldest. 

Seokjin is his friend but at this very moment he feels like the enemy. Was he not thinking about them at all, about Namjoon? Did he forget they all need him to be healthy? Did he forget to let someone know that he wasn’t feeling well before swallowing what was maybe dozens of pills? What was he even thinking?

He feels himself giving in under the pressure. So much is happening but there is so little time and so little he can grasp about this situation. His frustration almost comes out in the shape of hot tears but Namjoon swallows them down because this is really not the moment for that. However, when the words come bursting out of his mouth, his voice shakes with pent up emotion.

“Jesus Christ! Did you just overdose in the middle of—”

“Namjoon,” Yoongi interrupts, but Namjoon can’t think right now, won’t listen to the little voice in his head that tells him he’s going to regret it if he keeps speaking, so he goes on even as Yoongi settles a firm hand around his elbow. He goes on even as Seokjin’s eyes fill with tears that, like Namjoon, he visibly struggles to contain. He can feel everyone’s eyes piercing holes through his skull. There is stunned silence all around him.

“We’re going to Japan in three hours! Three hours! And here we were, worried sick, calling an ambulance because you weren’t counting—”

“Namjoon—” Yoongi interrupts again, insistent and seemingly desperate, so unlike himself. So, Namjoon will give in, but not before asking one last question, one that’s burning him from the inside.

“Why would you do this?!”

And Namjoon doesn’t cry often. In fact, Namjoon rarely cries, but as he says this, the floodgates open, and he can’t help the tears that fall even as he turns around to hide them, exhales heavily and pretends he’s still in control, pretends everything is still under control. He thought it was. He thought he was doing well. Clearly, he was wrong. Is he failing?

Sejin’s entrance is timely because, as fast as Namjoon’s anger lit, it also burns out. At that moment, back to the rest of his band mates, Namjoon feels ashamed, unfit, but mostly guilty. What did he just do? 

Sejin walks in and it saves him from turning around and having to face Seokjin after having clearly lost his temper at the very worst time.

“Someone told me to get here urgently. What’s going on?” Sejin questions, clearly oblivious but alarmed. 

Namjoon takes a second too long, turning to face Sejin and struggling to word an articulate and coherent explanation, so Yoongi steps in, but he doesn’t do or say anything Namjoon expects him to.

“Sejin hyung, you’re here. Seokjin hyung here is very sick. We think he’s coming up with a virus or something and he just passed out for a scary minute. I’m going to go home with him. Namjoon and you can take care of things here. Sounds good?”

Namjoon almost gets whiplash with the amount of absurd events taking place today. Did Yoongi just lie to Sejin to cover up for Seokjin when he’s been nothing but harsh and demanding towards him for the past few days? And, who is Yoongi to decide how to do things right now?

“Wait, Yoongi hyung, you can’t just leave like this,” Hoseok tries to reason, but he receives no answer. 

Namjoon is even more stunned when Yoongi pays them no mind and only helps their hyung stand, soflty muttering a “let’s go hyung.” Seokjin moves pliantly, and they walk out before anyone can stop them.

“And I thought I was the manager here. You kids are going to kill me, I swear.”

Chapter Text

Yoongi does not speak much but when he does his voice is distant and muted; it drifts like snow in a drizzle among the rest of the things that Seokjin can not pick apart nor see through.

“You didn’t eat what I gave you this morning.”

The front door clicks shut behind him and Seokjin kicks off his shoes before walking up the stairs. He observes the way his sweat soaked socks leave moisture prints on the wooden floor. 

You keep leaving a mess behind.

“Sorry about that,” Seokjin says, stopping mid-way when Yoongi's voice resonates amid the fog. With that, he starts up again.

Sitting on top of his pillows, he reaches for his phone in his back pocket and his fingers tap away. A series of numbers dictated solely by one mindless urge appear on the screen.

“Hello!”

The voice on the other end of the line blows like a warm breeze and the drizzle dissipates slightly.

“Mom.”

It’s all he can manage. Having nothing to say to his mother is a rare occurrence. It’s well-known that, among the members, Seokjin talks to his mother the most. His hardships are never a topic for them, though. Her son is happy all the time, and it's mostly the truth, but it’s all she ever hears from him, all she deserves.

“My dear son! How are you, darling?”

He must have successfully hidden the tremor in his voice. It is either that or she is extending a silent helping hand, agreeing to proceed on his terms. He takes it, her extended hand, and the things they talk about, things like the beautiful sunny sky despite the falling temperature, like the brunch his mother went to with his aunt yesterday, like the dress shirt his father messed up while trying to help his mom do laundry, pull him down like weights from where he’d been floating high above the concrete things that make up his life. The weights are gentle, like an embrace or a heavy blanket, and Seokjin almost falls asleep on the phone, nestled in the warm comfort of his mom’s chatter.

He’s nodding off when there’s a knock at his door and he jumps slightly, heart rattling in his chest for a few seconds. Ignited by trepidation, he feels nausea and irritation in his stomach again. His face twists bitterly at the realization of his discomfort, at the wake up call. 

“Mom, sorry,” he interrupts his mother as she speaks. “I’ve got to go. Yes, love you too.”

Just as he hangs up, there’s another knock at the door.

“Come in!” Seokjin calls out.

It’s Yoongi again. He comes in kicking the door gently with his foot, a tray in hand. On it sit a large ceramic bowl and what seems to be a tall glass of water.

“Here,” Yoongi says, setting the tray on Seokjin’s nightstand. “You need to eat, hyung.”

“Thank you.”

Inside the bowl, Seokjin finds a soup. There is chicken and vegetables, but it looks flavorless. The broth is clear like water and Seokjin can only be grateful for it because he’s not sure how much his stomach can handle.

He eats in silence, Yoongi’s eyes weighing him down, making the tension in the air palpable. He wonders why he’s here, watching him like a hawk, but he doesn’t dare dismiss him. What is there left to say?

“Can we...can’t you tell them? Maybe Namjoon...”

At the words, Seokjin freezes for a moment, spoon halfway to his mouth as the broth spills a little on the sides. He should have expected this, but he was not expecting anything.

“What should I tell them?” Seokjin asks, genuine, the words tumbling out of his mouth without a thought.

Yoongi looks a bit perplexed at the question, his brows pulled down and his eyes wide. Seokjin can imagine the feeling, because the answer is both obvious and complex. And Yoongi, evidently, does not know what to say. Seokjin takes a few more spoonfuls of his soup. His mouth is half full when he speaks again.

“Actually, how did you find out?” Seokjin asks with a pout on his lips. “If you go around telling people I’m a vampire, I’m going to have to turn you or kill you. You choose. I’ll bite gently.”

The relief is immense when Yoongi actually chuckles. 

“Hyung,” the younger whines, hitting Seokjin’s shoulder lightly.

The sight of Yoongi’s gummy smile, even if it lasts but a second, relieves a bit of the tension in his chest. Yoongi looks down now for a moment before his shoulders draw up slightly. The sigh that leaves his lips sounds painful.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I’m just so worried about you,” Yoongi confesses as he looks up, and the concern is evident in the way his eyes scan every feature of Seokjin’s face, like he’s assessing him.

“I just think it would help you. We could help you. Am I wrong?”

*

Namjoon is a lot calmer when he comes around later, fussing over him. 

“Hyung, you’re sure you don’t need a doctor. Like, sure sure?” 

He also apologizes shortly, like he’s too embarrassed to even acknowledge what happened, and Seokjin lets him off the hook only because he wouldn’t know how to be angry when he barely has the energy to stay awake and alert. Still, even with all the fussing, Namjoon abstains from asking too many questions. The only mild reference to his disturbing breakdown comes right before he leaves Seokjin’s bedroom.

“You know you can come to me with anything, right?” He says. “We’re a family, after all.”

Seokjin only nods in response, and Namjoon reciprocates with a nod and a tight-lipped smile before closing the door behind himself.

*

Seokjin is lounging on the bed of his hotel room, phone in hand, when he receives a text from Jungkook.

I got a bottle of red wine with me. Care to share? The text reads. 

Seokjin doesn’t really care to. He’s good like this, alone in silence with no one to fool but himself, but he’s also never been able to ignore their maknae. What if he needs company?

So he answers alright come over but you know I hate that stuff. Bring me soju.  

Jungkook’s reply comes only a few seconds later.

You shouldn’t get drunk we have a schedule tomorrow.

And Seokjin almost laughs at the warning because they have done this already a dozen times and they know that, no matter how painful the hangover, they’ll do it again.

It’s you shouldn’t get drunk we have a schedule tomorrow hyung for you brat.

He doesn’t think much of it when he receives no reply for a while. He gets back to scrolling on his phone. People seem to be talking less and less about him, and he takes it as a small victory. The others have been walking on eggshells around Seokjin, never getting too cocky, always alert like they wouldn’t want to be caught acting odd around him. The irony of it doesn’t get lost on Seokjin, but he finds no humour in it either. It’s neither annoying nor comforting. It is what it is.

He’s getting used now to this feeling, has settled in the numbness of feeling absolutely nothing. If Seokjin were to attempt to explain it, he’d say it’s like when you’ve been sitting in the same position for too long, and your own limbs crushing each other block the blood flow so much that the crushed limb’s nerves become numb. You could poke at the blanched skin endlessly but the only feeling you’d get is a strange sort of throb, nothing painful about it. So, he’s been just fine. 

Seokjin almost thinks that Jungkook has given up on their little get together by the time his phone pings with a message again.

Open the door Seokjin-ssi.

When he does, Seokjin has to force the smile on his face as he realizes that it’s not only Jungkook standing at his door. Namjoon is here as well, and he holds two soju bottles in each hand and shakes them in front of himself as a greeting. He’s not sure how he does it but Seokjin fakes a chuckle before he greets them.

“I thought we were having a date, Jungkook. You brought a third wheel?”

Namjoon laughs, but Seokjin knows the joke fell flat given the circumstances. Maybe Namjoon is being nice by helping him relieve some tension. It’s whatever, so he just turns around and they walk behind him to join him inside the room. He tries to ignore the feeling at the back of his head, the sensation of being ambushed. They’re trying. It’s not an ambush; it’s support. But the gnawing feeling stays, and these days Seokjin does not have the strength to fight himself. He never knows what feels right anymore, can’t trust his intuition. It’s whatever , he thinks to himself again.

“We thought you could use a bit of a stress relief,” Namjooon says with a smile, sitting at the edge of the bed while Jungkook takes the futon on the adjacent wall. Seokjin feels a slight sting at the words, though he knows they carry no ill intentions.

“I could say the same to you,” Seokjin replies, monotone. He knows his smile is sly and arrogant when he looks at Namjoon but, before there can be anymore biting remarks, Jungkook intervenes.

“Well, isn’t that why we’re all here anyway?” The youngest asks with an awkward chuckle and Seokjin would feel sorry for him if he could find it within himself, but he can’t so he only proceeds to flop down on the bed silently. Sure, Jungkook-ah. 

“No, Kook, he’s right. Look, hyung,” Namjoon starts, turning to face Seokjin. “I really am sorry for what I did the other day. I just got so upset and I lost my temper but I shouldn’t have. I want to be here for you, for all of you. I really do.”

For the first time in the last few days, Seokjin feels a wave of strong emotions invade him at Namjoon’s words. He had succeeded in completely erasing the event from his memory. He was just fine. Except his heart drops to his stomach when memories prickle like needles at his skin; he remembers the elevator, the panic, the nausea and then waking up and then being scolded like a child and then the look in Namjoon’s eyes and how could you do this and then not knowing how he ever got there and then wanting to escape and then—

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

So, they don’t.

Jungkook, ever the mediator, swallows a few gulps of his red wine before he plays a ballad on his phone and rambles about how he has spent the last few nights listening to it and how it’s inspired him to write some lyrics. Seokjin struggles to follow along, doesn’t even catch the name of the singer, but he’s relieved when Namjoon asks Jungkook to show him his drafts so he doesn’t have to struggle to keep the conversation going.

Seokjin is not all there but he catches bits and pieces. Namjoon chatters excitedly about their upcoming events, mostly about MAMA. He gloats about how many Daesangs they will get and how this year will be different, how no one will ever dare look down on them again, and Seokjin only hums in agreement and laughs at the right places, like when Jungkook does, or when it seems appropriate. He supposes MAMA is something to be excited about this year, but all he can feel invading him is inebriated indifference. It’s comforting in a twisted way but it’s his only source of comfort so he indulges in it.

Then, Jungkook talks about how one of his cousins is getting married over the weekend but he can’t attend the ceremony. He sulks and looks down at the wine bottle in his hands, fiddling with the lid as he speaks, and it’s a bit pitiful. Seokjin briefly wonders if it’s because he’s missing major life events in his family members’ lives or if it’s because he envies being able to properly date someone.

He wonders if Jungkook is in love. Then Seokjin has a brief thought about dating. How nice it would be. How freeing it would be to let someone that close. If someone were to touch him...If someone were to...If he were to feel...And it was soft. And what if it could make shivers run from the tip of their fingertips, down to his crotch… and up to his chest. What if someone were to pull at his heartstrings like that, and not hurt him? What if his eyes were to glass over, the tips of his toes curled and tears overflowing not from anguish but from pleasure? Can he have that? Is this body capable of letting an exterior force exert a pleasurable touch on it and feel at peace with that touch? If, for a second, he could imagine a hand wrapping around him, one that doesn’t scratch or pull painfully. If he could imagine warm lips that suck without biting. If his hands were free to touch, to wrap, to grab. If he were there there and not choked up and weighed as if underwater. If it was love. If he concentrates really hard, he could..he could...

His face is wet and so are his hands. The world's a bit blurry, and it’s fitting. It’s finally fitting because the world has been blurry for a while but now it feels like maybe he can accept that. He can accept that...that…

He can’t remember what to accept before the lights go out.

*

It’s the second day of fanmeeting in Japan and Seokjin is fairly sure smiling has never hurt this badly in his life. And it’s not an I’m feeling shit inside so smiling requires a lot of effort kind of struggle. It’s more of an I had too much to drink last night and laughing and stretching the muscles on my face feels like I’m splitting my skull with a saw kind of struggle. 

This morning Seokjin had woken with one of the worst hangovers of his life. His stomach was in knots and burning with the kind of heat alcohol leaves on an empty stomach. He could feel it move in his guts with every movement but even when his body urged him to, he refused to vomit. He was not doing that twice in the same week. Even his very limited pride would not allow him to do so. He also hadn’t dared touch any medicine. The thought only made his head swim. Now, along with the head splitting pain, Seokjin can feel his stomach clench from time to time and its contents rise all the way up to the back of his throat. It is too late for that, even if he wanted to, so he swallows it down every time.

There’s another thing that’s putting him on edge; he has no memory of how he got to bed last night. He vaguely remembers Jungkook and Namjoon chatting about this and that, but he’s sure there is a moment between that and the moment he passed out that has been completely wiped from his memory. This morning, Namjoon was notably anxious, fidgety, and stopping in the middle of his sentences, repeating himself, endlessly running his hands through his hair. Namjoon also refused to make eye contact with him and Seokjin, quick to pick up on the discomfort, turned to observe Jungkook. That’s when he realized the youngest was acting the complete opposite.

When Jungkook thought Seokjin wasn’t looking, the youngest observed him tirelessly. Seokjin made eye contact with him a few times, pretending it was accidental, and their maknae gave him a few nervous half-hearted smiles. As has become his usual, Seokjin doesn’t know how to feel. He does know that, somehow, he feels just a bit more than he did last night. Maybe he feels lighter. Maybe he feels sadder. Maybe he feels angry. He’s not too sure. If before it felt like the pressure was so much it made him numb, today he feels like the world is less dull, like a filter has been lifted and the world has flooded in, closer to his skin. 

*

Namjoon is restless. The little moonlight that penetrates through the blinds casts shades on the ceiling and Namjoon’s eyes hover over the patterns over and over, absorbed in thought. His heart hammers like he’s run a marathon through the night. He finds comfort in the short to-do list he goes over time and time again. He’ll wake up early in the morning. He’ll talk to Yoongi. They’ll come up with a plan. Namjoon has concluded Yoongi knows something they don’t, but Namjoon knows something too now, and he knows he can’t manage this on his own. Seokjin needs help. Namjoon will help him.

He still vividly remembers his hyung’s first panic attack back when the internet blew up with his name. Namjoon had dismissed it as normal given the circumstances, but then the oddities kept piling up. There is just so much now that it makes Namjoon feel dumb for not doing something about it before, for being so cluelessly inactive. The guilt eats away at him.

Looking back, Namjoon finds his faults. He knows how life goes; we go through it mostly unaware of what is right in front of us. That’s why he must look back, from time to time, see how far he has come and reflect on the past so he can maybe go a bit further. Sometimes, Namjoon thinks, he’ll go through the same cycle, over and over, make the same mistakes, over and over, until he stops and finds the courage to look at himself. So, Namjoon makes sure to look at himself from a distance and finds the patterns that were too hard to figure from up close. Not for the first time, Namjoon finds that he had been looking too far into the future, not being mindful of the present. He remembers snapping endlessly at his hyung.

That morning, when they had a meeting after the awful news, Namjoon had felt something ugly twist in his heart at the faraway look in Seokjin’s eyes when their manager was speaking. Usually, he tries to crush that feeling at the seams. He usually knows it leads to no good. But, that day, Namjoon had sharply called his hyung, and he knew the look in his eyes was unkind. That was probably his first mistake, letting himself do that. Then, when his hyung was obviously distressed during their dance practice, and had said he was a burden, Namjoon had given up on providing reassurance.

Thus, it went on, and Namjoon had lost sight of what really mattered: Seokjin, someone who he loves and cares for, who has always had his back. He had gotten caught in what will people say and what will people think and we need to do this right and we can’t let this get in the way. He had thought about the team too. He thought he was protecting them, but looking back now, he realizes that was probably the farthest thing from the truth. What does it say about the team if, when one of them is struggling, they are incapable of providing reassurance? What does it say about the team if, when one of them acts out of character, they jump to conclusions and look the other way?

Now, Namjoon is sure that what he just got a peek of under the yellowish lights of Seokjin’s hotel room is only the tip of the iceberg. It is clear that this whole thing has taken a toll on the elder, and it’s greater than any of them could have imagined. It seems to have touched something deep inside him that they had never been privy to, something that he had carefully hidden from them. So, Hoseok was right. Maybe his fellow rapper had been paying more attention than Namjoon had given him credit for.

The worst of it all is that Namjoon feels absolutely terrible. Seokjin was wasted quite literally out of his mind. He could not have been aware of what he was saying, what he was revealing as Jungkook stared with wide glassy eyes and Namjoon...Namjoon could not stop himself from subtly prying. Namjoon, despite the ache in his chest, his better judgement and the little voice in his head that advised him to stop, had cradled his hyung’s head in his hands and had encouraged him to talk, to let it all out. But he could not convince himself if he tried that Seokjin would have spoken had he been sober.

Namjoon is still painfully awake when the clock hits 5am and he throws the covers off his body, shoves his feet in his slippers and rushes to get ready for the day. He grabs the first outfit he finds on the top of his messy luggage then washes his face and brushes his teeth, all in less than 10 minutes. Before he knows it, Namjoon is knocking on Yoongi’s hotel room door, holding back from overdoing it lest he angers Yoongi at the ass crack of dawn. But who is he kidding? Yoongi’s about to get real pissed either way. 

The door cracks open no more than a few inches and Yoongi peeks his head in the gap, hair messy and eyes squinting from the light of the hallway.

“What,” he croaks out.

“We need to talk, hyung.”

“You do know that it’s like…” Yoongi hesitates and rubs his eyes as if that in itself is an indication of the time. “I don’t know but really fucking early?” Then he snaps up. “Wait, did I miss my alarm or something?”

“No, you didn’t but it’s about Seokjin hyung.”

As Namjoon expected, Yoongi’s eyes become wide in alert at the mention of their hyung.

“What happened? Where is he? Is he okay?”

“You know something. Don’t you?”

For some reason, Namjoon expected him to be surprised at what sounded slightly like an accusation, but he’s not. He does look a lot more awake now. Without an answer, Yoongi opens the door wider and gestures for Namjoon to come in.

“I do.”

Chapter Text

Jungkook knows Seokjin doesn’t want to see him, knows that’s just how his hyung is these days: secluded. But the youngest is becoming restless, imagining ways to ease the tension in the air, to edge closer and soothe the almost tangible and raw strain that keeps his hyung wound so tightly it feels like he might snap any second.

There is an unspoken agreement among themselves to let Seokjin be, to give him time and space, to let him come to them if he needs them, but the memory of Seokjin grabbing the stylist’s hand, almost seething, then falling back, eyes glassy and voice unstable, shouting nonsense about being left alone, left a clear imprint in Jungkook’s mind. He’d never seen eyes so empty yet so afraid. Just looking into them and realizing Seokjin was not all there, was somewhere else mentally, physically present but absent in mind, was enough to twist his heart painfully. He remembered how cold his chest felt, like ice was expanding from within. It was a feeling of complete shock that only grew as he watched his hyung be sick on the floor then faint in Yoongi’s arms.

For a moment, oddly enough, it almost felt like mourning, not like Seokjin was dead but like something had changed so terribly right before his eyes that he couldn’t help but feel like his hyung was not himself anymore, like he would never be the same. Thinking back on it, it was silly, too much to admit even to himself, but he can’t forget it; he saw Seokjin’s sanity slipping as he fell into something like delusion, and Jungkook had really grieved for him, utterly and inexplicably disturbed.

Too preoccupied with his thoughts, Jungkook doesn’t know what to say when he bumps into Namjoon on his way out and the leader interrupts his conversation with manager Hobeom to ask him where he’s going. Jungkook answers shortly and only nods when Namjoon tells him to wait up. It’s only a minute or two before Namjoon reappears into the hallway wearing more decent clothing, a baseball hat and a mask. They’re silent as they go, weary but comfortable.

“What are you getting?” Namjoon asks once they exit the elevator on the first floor.

“Soju for Jin hyung. I asked him to share a bottle of red but you know how he is.”

Namjoon chuckles and they go back to being silent. The breeze outside relieves some of the heat he feels is burning under his skin.

“Can I tag along?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like one too, but Jungkook knows better. “Maybe it’ll help, you know? Just—It’s been so awkward these days. I want to talk to him outside of work. Just something casual.” Namjoon punctuates the explanation with a pat on his back and a warm smile.

“Sure. Yeah,” Jungkook answers, but Namjoon’s smile has him biting the inside of his cheek, restless. This is not what he told Seokjin by text. This is not what this was supposed to be. But maybe it’s for the best.

It turns out to be absolutely not for the best, because as soon as they show up on Seokjin’s doorstep and the latter makes a humourless joke about a third wheel, Jungkook wants to run back to his room to reflect on his life choices. Things only escalate from then on so, as soon as he’s given the occasion, Jungkook stirs the conversation away from the elephant in the room. Can’t Namjoon see that this is not the time?

So they talk. They talk and they drink until there comes a point in the night where Seokjin asks Jungkook if he’s in love. There comes a point in the night where Seokjin talks about love, about hate, about himself and them, and Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he watches. He watches Seokjin as he breaks down and Namjoon as he listens and answers and questions. And even after hours, even the following day, Jungkook does not know what to do with himself.

*

“What’s going on with Jin hyung?”

“Why are you here?” Yoongi questions instead of answering the question. “Why are you here, in my room, at 5am, asking me what’s going on with our hyung?”

“Well, I think you just answered your own question?”

It’s not funny, but Yoongi chuckles darkly. He’s not in the mood to play riddles with Namjoon. The leader observes and Yoongi stares back until the former sighs and casts his eyes down, sagging his shoulder and leaning back where he sits on the futon in the corner of the room. Yoongi looks out the window once the contact is broken. The sky through the curtains looks gray. It might rain later. Or maybe it’ll snow. 

“Come on, Hyung. You know he’s been acting weird, and you just told me you know something,” Namjoon reasons, fretful yet demanding. “I’m just trying to look out for him.”

Yoongi ponders but doesn’t budge. What he knows is not his business to tell. But he’s curious, and he’s relieved to finally see someone else showing concern, because Yoongi has been desperate these days, trying to find solutions, trying to help on his own. But he’s been useless as far as he’s aware. What does Namjoon know now?

“Don’t ‘come on’ me, Namjoon-ah. Hyung has been acting unlike himself for a while now. He literally overdosed on pain meds and you didn’t show up at my door at 5am until today,” he pauses when Namjoon cringes at his words. He didn’t mean it as an offense. It is what it is. “You know what happened. That’s bound to make anyone go a bit crazy. But that’s not why you’re here now.”

Yoongi’s words are rushed, anxiety and frustration slipping at the edge of every breath, and he watches Namjoon run a hand through his hair. It doesn’t look like he washed it this morning. Then the rapper looks up, to the ceiling, then out the half opaque window. Maybe he sees the clouds. Then he looks down. Yoongi keeps observing the way his eyes move around the room, the way his lips pinch and his hands scratch the fabric of his jeans, the way he seems to consider the same thought over and over, thinking that if he finds the right angle then he can figure things out, and say exactly what he wants. It’s so Namjoon and Yoongi would normally wait. He’d pull out his phone or go get ready in the washroom or even tell him to leave and talk about it later, but today he can’t do that. This conversation needs to happen.

“Namjoon, spit it out. Just say it.”

A second passes and Namjoon still doesn’t look up, but he speaks.

“He said he hates himself.” Namjoon looks up, and Yoongi sees the way his eyes tint red. “He said he hates us. That he hates everyone.” To say the words don’t hurt would be a lie. Yoongi feels like someone gripped his heart in his chest, but it passes quickly. It only hurts for a second, then it throbs. “It’s just...the way he said it, hyung. You should have heard him.”

Does Seokjin hate him? Yoongi doesn’t think so. But now he knows something he might have known before but had been blissfully ignoring. Seokjin is resentful. He resents himself and he resents them and he resents this shit world. And, really, it makes a lot of sense—except the part about himself, but he figures that’s the trauma speaking.

Once again, Yoongi questions his past self. Did he deserve Seokjin opening up to him? Did he directly and indirectly force Seokjin to speak when he wasn’t ready? Should he try to redeem himself?

“He didn’t mean that.”

“What if he did?”

“He means he’s pissed or something. He doesn’t hate us,” Yoongi reassures the younger and the latter nods slowly. “When did he say this? What else did he say?”

“What did he say to you?” Namjoon deflects and Yoongi doesn’t know how to answer, and if he has a ground to stand on and keep prodding at the leader.

So, that’s how it is then. It’s fair; neither of them want to reveal more. But that’s not the pressing issue here.

“He should see a therapist.”

Namjoon doesn’t look surprised at Yoongi’s suggestion, neither does he readily agree, but he’s looking at the elder intently.

Fuck it .

“He told me something the other day. I can’t tell you what it is, but it’s something that happened a long time ago,” Yoongi pauses, afraid to say too much. Namjoon is even more attentive now. He’s edging closer, hanging on to every word.

Seconds pass slowly while Yoongi gathers his thoughts. Just thinking about it makes his blood boil, his stomach churn. “It’s really big, Namjoon-ah. This whole ordeal brought back a lot of baggage for him, stuff he never shared with anyone before.”

As he speaks, Yoongi searches Namjoon’s eyes, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. This is bad. This is important. Namjoon seems to understand as he hums slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“He needs us, Namjoon. He needs us and he needs professional help. He needs as much help as he can get.”

When Namjoon agrees without a second thought, without further questioning, Yoongi is eternally grateful. 

“He can’t know we talked about this though,” Namjoon adds, standing as he looks at his phone. It seems they don’t have much time left. “You talk to him, hyung. If he’s worried about the how, make sure he knows I’ll help and the company will too. Then, if he agrees we'll get him in contact with someone and we’ll make sure he has time. We’ll make it work.”

As Namjoon turns to leave, Yoongi asks him how he’s doing, if he’s okay. It’s not often that Yoongi asks such earnest questions so openly. He may ask about it when they’re practicing a choreography, or before an interview, but those instances are unlike these. Now, Yoongi really means, beyond work, beyond what’s coming in the near future, beyond our immediate concerns, how are you holding up? And it’s not unlike Yoongi, exactly, but it feels different.

Namjoon’s smile is subtle when he turns around, but his eyes are downcast. Yoongi notices the paleness of his skin for the first time since he walked in, and the way his shoulders droop.

“I’ve been better, hyung. I feel...overwhelmed? I think. I’m alway, like, anxious.”

Yoongi hums empathetically. Oh yeah, he can relate to that. But he still aches for the younger. Namjoon has been bad too, like Yoongi. He gets sad. He gets quietly angry. He gets, well, depressed. He hopes this is not it.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Joon-ah. Please take care.”

Namjoon nods, smile gone, eyes still on the rough carpet beneath his feet.

“If it's any consolation, that makes two of us,” Yoongi answers and observes as Namjoon frowns deeply in contemplation. He knows it’s not—consolation. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”

Going from the frown still etched on his features, Yoongi thinks Namjoon is about to ask something, but his expression changes quickly and he smiles.

“Sure thing. Thank you, hyung. See you in a bit.”

*

It's Hoseok's birthday in a few days. Seokjin has not gotten him anything. He doesn't think he got anything from Hoseok. His own birthday passed by uneventfully, as uneventfully as the flight home from Japan. Or at least Seokjin likes to think so. Maybe there were a few bumps. But it seems he's made progress. His therapist told him so. He feels a lot these days. Not right now though.

Laughter and loud voices fill the crowded pub where they chose to spend their evening. Only Taehyung and Jungkook are missing. The ceiling is low and the lights golden; they spill and glide over every reachable surface, but the night stifles them and the room remains partly shadowed. The light from the bulb overhead does, however, dive and sink into the drink Seokjin holds over the wooden table. Hunched over, he observes how the liquid sways like a mini tsunami every time the surface beneath it shakes even slightly. Seokjin could tap his foot lightly over the leg of the table, and the waves would start again, the movement enough to rock every particle inside the glass and even to change the way light and shadow move inside it. 

No, he’s not beer. Not exactly. But maybe there’s something there. Maybe he’d like to break free, to spill over every surface. Maybe he’d like to turn bitter and toxic. Maybe he has no power but to crash and tumble endlessly everytime the world around him shifts. Maybe his heart is in his gut and his brain is mush and maybe there’s nothing inside him worth figuring out.

Maybe Seokjin is like beer. Or maybe he's glass. Or maybe he needs another drink.

“I’ll take the bill. Yeah, just one,” Seokjin hears Namjoon say from across the table and his head snaps up at the speed of light. Maybe only a bit slower.

“No! No. I’ll take the bill. Later. The night is young, guys!” Seokjin says, waving the waiter away with a hazy smile. The guy leaves without questions and a few heads turn Seokjin’s way.

Seokjin doesn’t care to pay for everyone. For anyone. But it’s better to sound generous than to say “I’m not done drinking and you better not stop me and you better not leave me alone to drink like I’m some old depressed alcoholic either.” So, he went with the next best thing. It’s all fine. It’s going perfectly until Namjoon decides to be a pain in his backside.

“Hyung, we’ve got a schedule early in the morning. We need to go home to get some rest.”

Ah. There it is. Namjoon knows what’s best. Namjoon always knows what’s best. Namjoon always does the right thing. Namjoon is grown and mature and he knows to take the right decisions. Namjoon is always right. And Seokjin feels a tsunami inside of him, salty waves rolling steadily up his guts, up his chest, up his lungs, up his throat, and he can’t contain it.

“I think we’re all old enough here to know what’s good for us. Don’t you like to have fun too, sometimes?”

Beside him, Yoongi tells him to stop, to calm down. He’s not about to.

Namjoon appears to be holding back himself when he answers. “That's not what I meant. Calm down. This doesn’t need to turn into a fight.” The tone is low and tired, like the leader really can not muster any more strength, but Seokjin has enough for the both of them.

“You think I’m making a big deal out of this? You’re the one who’s being all high and mighty.”

He can see Namjoon’s eyebrows pinch, can hear muttering on his side, from Hoseok giving quiet advice, but all he can do is anticipate. He’s ready to catch and throw. 

“Hyung, what’s going on with you? I can’t even talk to you anymore. I don’t know how to talk to you.”

That’s rich, coming from Namjoon. They’ve talked enough.

“Well, you knew how that day, apparently.” Namjoon’s reaction, a bite of his lips, a slow blink, fuels him. The waves won’t come down. “And you were more than happy to see me drink myself stupid too, but I guess we’re not talking about that.”

Neither of them looks away but Seokjin sees the leader waver. He wavers like the beer on the table, like Seokjin himself, like they're all caught in a moving glass. But Seokjin only wants to save himself.

“Ah. That’s what this is all about," Namjoon says defeated.

Is it? No, this is about letting go. This is about trust. It's about years upon years of holding back and not knowing what to do with himself.

“Well, not really. But now that we’re here, why don’t you let me in on the secret, huh? I bet you and Yoongi have talked about it," he turns toward Yoongi when he says this. The younger bites his lower lip, avoiding his eyes. "Jungkook knows too. May I know what the fuck happened that night or am I too dumb and irresponsible for that too?”

Seokjin has truly forgotten what he ever used to be. He only knows this moment. This feeling of ravaging, of feeling ravaged by invisible forces. He knows he feels betrayed, but he doesn't know by whom.

“Hyung, I...I’m sorry. Let’s talk about it another moment.”

He knows what Namjoon means. What they all mean, with their silence. You're drunk. You're too upset. You're out of control. It's late. But this is Seokjin's territory. These are the moments where he can bring himself to say something, anything at all.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you in that day.”

What would be left of me now, if I hadn't, Namjoon? What if you saved me? Why did it have to be that way?

“It’s because you keep hiding! You’re not doing well and you won’t let us in.”

But you saved me when I wasn't ready. You pulled me out when the water was getting warm and now I'm half out and half in and I feel like I'm only heavier because of it.

“You can’t talk to me. I keep hiding. Tell me I’ve changed. Tell me I’m not the same I used to be. Say it to my face, that I’m a coward and a burden!”

“I don’t want to be a burden either.”

And the silence. That silence was loud like thunder.

What did it mean? Will that silence become those words he dreads so much, now?

They wouldn’t.

But trust is another thing this tsunami wants to wreck to pieces, has already started spilling over slowly, eating away at its foundation. He wants it to crumble. He wants it to resist. He wants to test it.

Chapter Text

When the leader feels himself losing his grip and starts seeing red, when his heart races and he feels the words on the tip of his tongue, his lungs full and ready to shout, to lash out at Seokjin, Namjoon’s eyes fall on Seokjin’s and the latter looks back into his.

At that moment, everything is clear.

Seokjin’s hurt is palpable in every word, every gesture, every look, and Namjoon would be falling into a trap.

Seokjin wants Namjoon to hurt him.

Why? What would that prove?

That Namjoon can’t be trusted? That Seokjin deserves to be hurt?

It’s a trap , Namjoon reasons, swallowing his anger. One I won’t fall for.

“I don’t think that, hyung. You know that.”

Seokjin’s change of expression is unreadable.

They all remain silent. Unsure.

“You know that, right?” he insists.

In the end, Seokjin relents, shaking his head, “You’re right. Let’s go home.”

There, Sejin is waiting for them on the big couch.

There’s no obvious reason for him to be there, and so Namjoon, already barely coping, feels his heart sink.

The manager looks up as they trickle in.

“Good evening, boys,” he greets them as he stands.

His posture and manners are not unlike their own. His deep blue sweater is wrinkled and, in aspect and color, almost matches the bags under his eyes. He moves like a man who has seen better days.

They greet him back, and he wastes no time before sharing the reason for his impromptu visit.

“Jin, I need to talk to you. Let’s go up to your room, okay?”

Seokjin seems surprised at the request, looking up abruptly, and Namjoon can sense his panic. 

It can’t possibly be something good. Seokjin knows this. They all do.

The eldest of the group nods. “Sure, hyung.” He makes his way to the staircase. “After you.”

Yoongi’s voice stops them in their tracks.

“Can I…” the rapper hesitates as multiple heads turn to watch him. “Can I come?” he asks, seemingly finding his courage.

No one is sure who he’s talking to: Sejin or Seokjin?

But the manager turns to Seokjin, “It’s private matters —for now— so it’s up to you. Whatever you prefer.”

With his head, Seokjin gestures for Yoongi to come along, and the three men make their way up the stairs with heavy steps.

The temptation Namjoon feels to follow them and eavesdrop is almost too strong to hold back, but he can’t do that. He won’t.

It’s awkward, after that. Hoseok, Jimin and himself disperse in almost complete silence, all too minutely aware of the ongoing meeting upstairs.

They can’t hear anything, for now. Namjoon hopes they won’t at all. He doesn’t want anyone raising their voice. He doesn’t want anymore fights.

What could have Seijin come in here so late in the evening? 

Is there another scandal?

Does this mean the end for Seokjin?

Bang Si Hyuk said there would be no second time.

They can’t lose Seokjin.

But there’s nothing new on social media.

How can they keep Namjoon out of this? He’s the leader.

How is he supposed to lead when he doesn’t know what’s going on?

But Sejin said it's a private matter “for now,” so maybe Namjoon doesn’t need to worry about it?

And if he does need to worry, what can he do when Seokjin seems to antagonize him more everyday?

The endless questions unnerve him, and he finds himself frozen in time again and again.

Halfway up the stairs.

Staring at the mirror with his toothbrush in his mouth.

Looking down at the black screen of his phone.

Half naked facing his closet with a t-shirt in his hand.

Namjoon can’t escape the turmoil.

He thought when Seokjin started seeing a therapist things would get better. But they don’t seem to be getting better at all. The older one seems to be always on edge around Namjoon. And the more time passes, the more Seokjin’s words that night feel real. He feels…hated by Seokjin. It takes Namjoon a lot to convince himself, everyday, that this isn’t true.

He’s lost. He doesn’t know how to fix any of this. He does think Seokjin changed. He does want his old hyung back. What went so wrong so suddenly? What is this thing that his hyung doesn’t trust them with? What could have been so big and so terrible to stand in the way of everything they’ve built, of this family Namjoon thought was as strong as a family could get?

He’s staring into space again. His eyes sting. He closes them. Can he fall asleep?

A muffled voice coming from the door startles him. “Joon-ah. Can you come to hyung’s room?”

He moves immediately, too aware as he does that he has not the slightest idea what to expect. He’s surprised to find Jungkook and Taehyung walking into Seokjin’s room as well, and Yoongi seems to be knocking on every door.

When he walks in, Seokjin is sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. He doesn’t look up, instead his head is hung low as his hands play with a small object. A USB key, maybe?

Taehyung, Jungkook and himself share looks of confusion before looking at Sejin for an explanation, but the latter just shrugs his shoulders, seemingly none the wiser. Hoseok, Jimin, and Yoongi are already walking in as well.

The latter sits next to Seokjin on the edge of the bed. Sejin has occupied the only couch in the corner of the room, so Namjoon drags the rolling chair from behind the desk to sit between the bed and the couch as the others stand around, undecided. Taehyung then walks in front of Namjoon to sit on Seokjin’s empty left, so Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok sit awkwardly on the floor and the foot of the bed.

They wait for someone to explain exactly what is going on.

*

When Seokjin, after all the fussing, tells Namjoon that he’s right, that they should go home, he feels somewhat better.

It feels good.

And it feels miserable to know that this is his first shred of happiness in a long time.

Seokjin’s happiness has always been most important to him. Above all, Seokjin wants to be happy.

This small happiness, for the first time in a long time, clears his mind. Despite the alcohol, and despite the fight, and despite the despair, Seokjin recognizes a piece of himself in this happiness.

But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. It slips away like it was never there in the first place and leaves him disoriented, his previous anger back with a vengeance, but…unsure.

Disturbed.

Seokjin knew it in a small, rational piece of his mind he had been barely holding on to, that his anger was misplaced. He knew it but he didn’t care. He does now, can’t help but care.

Everything shifts.

Seokjin is angry at himself. Seokjin is angry that a piece of himself was taken away. He’s angry he was violated. He’s angry that the people who did this to him got away with it. They’re gone…just gone, free to forget, out there living life.

It’s so unfair.

How can life allow this, for someone to do something like that and just keep going like nothing happened?

How could he keep going like nothing happened?

It’s like a part of himself always hoped someone else would take care of it, or there would come a time for justice, when he was ready. But nothing happened. Nothing ever came out of it, because Seokjin did nothing about it, and now that he’s ready to be angry, finally years later, it’s useless.

Even now, when the situation has turned against him once again, he’s the one suffering the consequences, alone.

He feels sorry for himself. He can’t deny it.

It’s the most useless feeling and it makes him feel pathetic too, but what else can he feel when there’s nothing left to do about this anger?

He guesses he’ll at least have something to bring up to his therapist next time they meet.

So, angry, sorry, and pathetic is how he feels when he trudges inside the dorm and Sejin asks to talk to him in private.

Here we go again , Seokjin thinks to himself as he makes his way up the stairs, thankful for Yoongi’s presence but still carefully measuring his breaths to keep his panic at bay.

When Sejin closes the door behind them, he sits on the couch and, with a gesture of his hand, invites them to sit as well. They do, facing him and next to each other on the edge of the elder’s bed.

“Sorry to come here so late,” Sejin apologizes, tone sincere, and Yoongi and Seokjin shake their heads to dismiss it. The time of day is the least of their worries at the moment.

“Well, let’s get to it. Kang Jisoo-ssi…she contacted us this afternoon. We’d given her an email, just in case, and she reached out. She asked if she could contact you directly, but we can’t just give out your contact information. She ended up asking if she could come to drop something. She said it was really important. So, we told her to drop by. She gave us this.”

At the words, the manager pulls out a USB drive from his back pocket. Yoongi is looking at Seokjin now, but the latter can’t take his eyes away from the small object to see what’s in Yoongi’s eyes.

“She said you need to have it, and that the password is the year and month you met. She said you’d know.”

He pauses with a sigh, and then, “Well…Bang PD-nim was there. He seemed unsure about it, like he didn’t want to let it go without knowing what was in it. It made him nervous. Anyway, I convinced him to leave it to your judgment.”

Seokjin does not have the slightest idea what is in that thing, but he’s not sure he wants to find out. And, if he does check, there is no way he will want to share.

“Seokjin-ah.”

Sejin waits for Seokjin to make eye contact with him before continuing.

“If whatever is inside this flash drive is something that could be out there, that could come out at any moment and damage BTS, you need to tell us. I’m sorry. You can’t keep this to yourself.”

Then, Sejin is extending his hand, flash drive at the tip of his fingers, and Seokjin…What can he do but take it?

It’s not even like he can ignore it. He can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. He’s being asked to check. Check and make sure the contents of this tiny object won’t destroy their careers.

His hand shakes slightly when he reaches for the flash drive. Yoongi squeezes his shoulder.

The flash of a phone, like that nightmare he had weeks ago where he was naked against the window, blinds him momentarily. Except…he’s not sure the image is from the dream.

It’s different…

The flash of a phone in the darkness. Cold. Blurry. Underneath, sheets. 

With certainty, in an instant, he knows what’s at the tip of his fingers, and his hand retracts, the flash drive falling to the floor instead.

Of course his memory had spared him of some details. 

Don’t think now. Don’t think.

He bends down to pick up the dreaded object.

“Sorry. Yoongi-ah, could you bring my laptop please?”

He doesn’t trust his legs. Yoongi opens his mouth, and Seokjin knows what he’ll say, what he’ll ask, but he can’t right now. He shakes his head.

Don’t ask. I can’t do this now.

The younger seems conflicted, but he acquiesces, and in seconds, Seokjin is lifting the screen of his laptop and plugging the USB drive in. He pushes himself back on the bed, at a distance, to make sure neither Yoongi nor Sejin can see the screen.

His finger is on the pad, the cursor on the flash drive icon, when Yoongi speaks.

“Hyung, you don’t have to.”

Does he not?

He types in the password, and opens a folder of the same title.

His body turns to ice then a burning heat washes over his whole body. The contents of his stomach rush to his throat but he swallows them down. There’s a word file among dozens of thumbnails.

He opens it.

This is every picture and video from that day. After giving you this, I will have none in my possession. I never shared them. The other girl was an older classmate of mine. Her name is Kim Yeeun. She works as a lawyer now, at Lee & Yang LLC. Not that you should care. I mean that she probably won’t want this leaking anymore than you do, and has most probably deleted everything on her part. I also thought I should reveal her identity, in case you don’t know it.

You can do what you will with this. I thought you should be able to decide. 

Kang Jisoo

Seokjin snaps his laptop shut.

The overload of emotions has his head swimming and he closes his eyes to rest his head on the wall behind him.

He can’t do this on his own. He can’t hide this. He can’t even begin to make sense of this. Memories keep flooding in, aided by the thumbnails he barely glimpsed at, and all he can do to push back against the gates is fill his mind with here and now.

What is the wisest thing to do now?

If he were all he wanted to be, the best version of himself, one that he would never regret being, what would he do?

“Hyung?” Yoongi’s voice brings him back to Earth, as it often does.

“Can you please call the guys in here? I need to tell them a few things.”

He can feel Yoongi’s weight lift off of the bed, and it’s not long before he can hear his voice calling their names.

“Seokjin-ah, what’s going on?”

Sejin asks, alarmed, but Seokjin just waits. He shakes his head. He won’t do this twice.

He looks down and unplugs the flash drive from the laptop. It’s like hiding it all again. Keeping the small object inside his hand is better.

He can hear doors opening, and their footsteps filling the room. People move around and two weights settle at his sides: Yoongi and Taehyung.

When the movement stops, and it’s relatively quiet again, Seokjin dives.

“I need to tell you all something. It’s not something I want to say, and it’s not something you’ll like to hear,” Seokjin starts, fidgeting with the object in his hand. He still doesn’t look up.

“In 2011, I attended a social event where two girls…spiked my drink and —”, he swallows harshly around the knot in his throat. He’s never said the word before. “Raped me.”

There. He said it.

He hears various sounds around the room.

He still doesn’t look up, eyes fixed on his white duvet.

“Choi Inhee happened to trigger those memories for me, and everything else after made it worse.” He tries to keep it short, but all of his interactions with his bandmates for the last few weeks keep replaying behind his eyelids, and the next words that come out of his mouth do so with ease.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

Someone sniffles. Someone is crying. He knows it’s Jimin. He can always tell when Jimin is crying.

Get to the point.

“I didn’t remember…”

God, no, I can’t cry right now, he admonishes himself when he sighs a shaky breath that leaves his throat tight. Not now .

“...That they recorded. Kang Jisoo—she’s one of them—gave me this,” he lifts his right hand slightly to show the flash drive, “saying she doesn’t have any copies, but there was the other girl. I don’t know. Apparently, she’s, like, a big shot lawyer, so it’s not likely she would leak any of it, but…I just thought you should know. I…I can’t guarantee it will never come out. ”

That was it, right? That was all he wanted to say. He can’t think of anything else. He’s unbearably hot all over.

The silence in the room extends. Only a few shaky breaths and sniffles can be heard. Seokjin is about to let them know he’s done, because he can guess they probably just don’t want to interrupt, but he can’t bear how long this silence is getting.

“Thank you for telling us.” Namjoon is the one to break the silence. His voice is strained. Seokjin nods, unsure how else to respond. “And I don’t mean this as the leader. I don’t mean I’m thankful you warned us or anything like that. I mean thank you for trusting us,” he pauses. Seokjin thinks he’s done. “Though I’m not sure that’s…Wait, no, scratch that.”

Another pause, longer this time. Seokjin can hear him choking back cries.

“I’m sorry you felt obligated to tell us even though you didn’t want to.”

Seokjin is not angry. He’s not resentful, not at this moment at least, and he doesn’t want them to feel bad, but he did what he had to do. He looked at the contents of the flash drive. He told everyone the truth. He’s held on long enough. He wants —no. He needs space. There are too many people here and Seokjin feels he might lose his composure at any moment now.

“You don’t have to be sorry. None of you do. But…I want to be alone now. Please?”

They listen.

He feels loved by the way they leave.

They drag their feet out of the room like every step pains them, like they would rather anchor themselves to the floor. He feels sorry he couldn’t look at them, but he knows he wouldn’t have pulled through otherwise.

He thought he’d cry on his own, but he doesn’t. 

It feels more like floating, like his body is a bubble that fills the room, and when every corner of the room is filled with him, with moments, and thoughts and pieces, all he does is be there, and watch, and hear, and wait. And he doesn’t flinch once.

Chapter Text

His mom is lying next to him when he wakes up.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

She takes him in her arms. She’s warm and smells of the same old lavender detergent, with a floral perfume that is probably new, and maybe chicken. She always cooks chicken.

“A little bird told me you could use your mom, and I’ve never been told such a thing, so I thought I better come here and give you a hug.”

She’s like a fluffy cloud.

“You smell like chicken.”

Her belly moves against his chest when she chuckles.

“You smell like beer. We make a good pair, wouldn’t you say?”

Warmth spreads in his chest, and it loosens him up. He’s still sleepy.

“I would say I probably stink, but you’re being nice and I appreciate it.”

They stay like that for a while, maybe too long for it to be normal, for his mom to think it’s normal, but still she doesn’t ask him what’s wrong. She doesn’t say much, except for the odd comment here and there, and Seokjin once again forgets to think and to feel. He exists only in this big bubble that is his bedroom.

She could tell him to brush his teeth, but instead she brings him mouthwash in a small glass and water in a big one. She could tell him to shower, but instead she picks out comfortable clothes that she lies on the bed before turning around to let him change. She could tell him to go eat, but instead she brings him chicken and rice in a small bowl. 

Seokjin thinks it must be night when she starts getting ready to leave.

“Do you feel better, son?”

“Yes. Thank you, mom.”

She gathers her purse from the couch and sits next to him.

“Always, my love.”

He feels bad, suddenly. Guilty. Like he owes her something.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything.”

She leans down while she gathers his face in one of her hands to kiss his forehead. His breath stutters.

“There’s no need for that. I just wanted to take care of you. Thank you for letting me take care of you.”

He nods and strains the corners of his lips slightly, hoping it looks like a smile. She smiles back at him.

Later, when he can feel his heart in his chest again, and his thoughts have a beginning and an end, when the bubble deflates and finally he lands back in this bedroom that, after all, is only a bedroom, Seokjin makes his way out and down the stairs, feet heavy.

He still can’t believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it.

He wonders if there will come a day where he’ll find the courage to look at the contents of that flash drive, and if he can find a peaceful day before that.

How much more happened that he has conveniently forgotten?

“Hyung,” Namjoon’s voice startles him as he walks by the living room.

“Hey,” he answers, turning.

Namjoon is sitting on the couch, legs crossed with a bowl of food in one hand and a laptop on his thighs.

A force like gravity moves him, and Seokjin finds himself sitting by the younger’s side.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin replies.

“That’s okay.”

Namjoon rests his food and laptop on the coffee table before turning towards Seokjin with his side resting on the back of the couch.

“Do you want to know what you said that night?” Namjoon asks.

Seokjin nods. He might as well. He wants to clear the air between them.

“You said you hated everyone, that you hated us,” he pauses with a shake of his head, looking down and up again to face Seokjin, “and that you hated yourself.”

That…makes a lot of sense. There came a point where a single moment in time, wreaking like a snowball through his life, made him want to destroy everything, including himself.

“Don’t apologize.”

He was going to.

“Okay.”

He really wanted to.

“No, I want to,” Seokjin backtracks. It’s not okay. Of course, there was a reason. Of course, Seokjin is in a bad place, but he still feels sorry. That’s just how he feels. “I want to say I’m sorry. I know you’ll say you don’t need it but I am. Namjoon, I know you’re struggling too. You always are. I’m sorry I couldn’t trust you and I made things so difficult for you.”

Namjoon seems to accept it. He nods along and smiles at him, something careful and tender in his eyes.

“I was struggling. I am. And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry about everything. You kept it so well, but I wish I had noticed. I wish I could’ve helped you, but mostly, I’m so sorry about the last few weeks,” his voice trembles when he says this. His head hangs low and he pushes a hand over his eyes. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He swallows many times, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down repeatedly. Seokjin knows he’s holding back from crying again.

“God,” he chuckles, face still hidden behind his hand. “I didn’t want to cry. I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Namjoon-ah. Look at me.”

It’s a moment before the leader does. His eyes are red, and two tears fall when he finally makes eye contact with Seokjin. The elder grabs both his shoulders and squeezes. 

“You’re okay. We’re okay,” he says sincerely, surprising himself slightly.

He lets his arms fall to his side again.

“I was really angry at you, and to be honest I’ll never know how much of that anger was really aimed at you because I was just…angry. These days, I feel angry for no reason. But you know, yesterday, when you told me that. I was so mean and you were so…kind. And I realized that I wasn’t angry at you. I’m just…angry in general, I guess.”

Namjoon has calmed down now. He sniffles and nods, and he seems glad, relieved even. Knowing him like he does, Seokjin realizes Namjoon is just grateful that his hyung is finally talking to him.

“I think I would be too, if I was you. I think you have more than enough reason to be angry.”

They stay quiet for a moment that feels closer to peaceful than any moment has felt to Seokjin in a long time.

“You’ve been brave, hyung. And we all love you like you love us, more than success and money and whatever else fame can do for us, okay? That’s how you love us, and that’s how we love you, even when we’re shit at showing it, okay?”

Sometimes, it feels like Namjoon knows Seokjin better than he knows himself.

The words are like a flame that melts the knot in his chest, the one that’s been growing in size and weight for too long now. Maybe it’s not gone yet, but it shrinks under the warmth of Namjoon’s words. Seokjin nods and wipes a few tears that spring from his eyes before he can find the strength to stop them.

“Thank you, Joon-ah. I actually really needed to hear that.”

Namjoon shakes his head.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

A few minutes pass in silence, but Seokjin, despite having nothing more to say, doesn’t want to move. He wants to stay by Namjoon’s side. His mind is oddly quiet.

“You can keep working. I’ll just sit here if you don’t mind.”

Namjoon shakes his head.

“Not at all!”

Seokjin lays his head back, crosses his arms around his middle, and closes his eyes.

“Did you talk to my mom?”

“Sejin hyung did, but it was Jimin’s idea, actually.”

Jimin loves Seokjin a lot. Seokjin loves him too. And he misses him.

He thinks back to when everything started. He remembers how Jimin fussed over him that night after the club, and how he defended Seokjin the morning after. He came to see him first, on his birthday as well. 

Jimin hasn’t exactly been present, lately, but Seokjin himself hasn’t exactly been approachable, either. 

Then he remembers Jimin crying, yesterday, just the sound of it.

He thinks back to what he said…How he said it in front of Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung, whom he’s known since they were kids. 

He hates that. He hates them knowing about this. They’re not kids anymore. They’re adults in every way, but Seokjin still wants to protect them from the morbid darkness of the world.

Seokjin himself wants to avoid it as much as he can, but it can’t be done.

The thoughts and images lingering at the back of his mind grow ominously, with his eyes closed.

Voices crawl out from the darkness, and a light appears in front of his eyes.

Laughter.

Heavy breathing.

“I bet you could do it one more time.”

A whimper. He does. That’s me , he thinks. And then something wet and slimy runs between his legs. His body spasms and recoils. It hurts. He whines and the light gets closer.

“Just one more time Jin-ah.” A voice echoes beyond the light.

He shakes his head. It barely moves. He’s breathing from his mouth because his nose is stuffy.

Pressure builds in his stomach. There’s a hand shaking his chin.

It hurts between his legs, like he’s burnt or cut, and there’s just too much pressure. It throbs excruciatingly, but he can’t move.

“Open your eyes! We’re not done here!”

Something digs into him like a knife cutting through his lower half and his eyes snap open.

It’s the living room.

He lifts his hands and observes them. They’re shaking but they’re free.

He pats his chest and legs. He’s dressed. Nothing hurts.

In fact, there’s a blanket covering him.

He knows he can move his body, but he can’t bring himself to. It’s like the nightmare, or more like the memory, keeps him still.

Slowly, he registers a presence to his left. He looks sideways and, sure enough, Jimin is there. When he catches Seokjin looking back, he can see the change in Jimin’s expression. His furrowed brows become relaxed and he releases his pinched lips, lifting the corners of his mouth. His expression goes from fear to warmth, from worry to surprise, from sadness to cheerfulness. Even after shifting, all the former emotions remain visible, hardly veiled by the younger’s efforts to hold them back and away from Seokjin’s view.

Seokjin’s hand, out of its own accord, reaches out to wrap around Jimin’s wrist. His heart still beats like crazy, painful and almost nauseating in his chest and at the back of his throat. Touching Jimin makes it better.

The younger’s eyes tint red as they look down at Seokjin’s hand, and he approaches the elder slowly, scooting closer, and wraps his arms around Seokjin.

It feels so good.

It feels so so good.

It’s like Jimin takes with him all the fear, like his hug drags him back from that moment, from that place, and to the present. Here. Home.

Seokjin lets his head fall on Jimin’s shoulder, and the younger one starts rubbing circles on his back.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Seokjin asks, unsure if he’s teasing the dancer or genuinely curious.

The younger hums. So, he was. Seokjin wonders if he acted weird in his sleep. He definitely did when he woke up.

“Sorry,” Seokjin says, because he knows Jimin must have been worried, watching him.

Seokjin feels the shake of his head against his own.

Then his eyes prickle. He feels exhausted now that the fear is trickling slowly out of him. It loosens his whole body and Seokjin immediately feels the oncoming tears.

Another weight settles then on his other side, and hugs him from the back. He knows this hug, this smell. Taehyung’s warmth is unmistakable. He’s missed them both so much.

Would it be okay for him to cry now?

Unlike the last few weeks, where he cried out of frustration, out of loneliness or numbness, out of fear or anger, and even out of embarrassment, often against his will and holding back, Seokjin feels like letting go now.

He wants to let himself have this. He wants to cry comfortably, in his friends’ arms, just let go and let them catch him.

He promised himself he would hold on before falling onto them. Would it be okay to do that now?

He thinks they want him to. He thinks if they love him like he loves them, they would rather he let go in their arms than alone in his bedroom. And so he does.

It’s not much, letting go. It’s mostly releasing the muscles from his abdomen and up to his throat. That’s what the gates consist of.

He does slowly, let go, and the tears start falling. He holds onto Jimin, and the younger one holds him tighter.

Slowly, the cries spread through his body, until they’re shaking him, but from all sides he’s held firmly.

He even feels another hand in his hair. Its long sturdy fingers feel like Hoseok, and the weight next to him on the floor, leaning on Seokjin’s leg and resting a cheek on his knee, is definitely Jungkook.

They apologize to him, but he shakes his head vehemently, even when the apologies soothe him.

It’s just that they’re well-meaning words,  that they acknowledge his pain, that they’re caring and they’re said in soothing tones and all of it helps.

He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been feeling, for even longer than he’d ever admit to himself.

He had been lonely for too long.

“Hyung, everything’s going to be okay,” Jimin whispers in his ear and Seokjin’s hum comes out as a whimper, so he nods his head against Jimin’s neck instead.

It probably is. It’s only half figuratively and half literally drowning in his tears, because his nose is stuffy and it’s too humid breathing through the soaked fabric of Jimin’s sweater, that Seokjin feels like he’s finally able to breathe.

The coast is visible, and the tide is coming down, but either way, he’s getting to swimming. All of the struggling against the tide didn’t do much. It's letting himself fall that freed him of the weight. He can only swim if he floats, and he can only float if he can shed the weight. He already feels so much lighter, and it’s not swimming yet, but it’s like lying on his back on the surface, just looking up at the sky and catching his breath, getting ready to turn back around and look down at the depths of the water, with more clarity this time.

It’s weeks before Seokjin laughs again, a genuine, breathy, windshield laugh that fills his belly. It’s a VLive with Jimin and Jungkook, and he sees Jungkook’s eyes tear up a little. It’s not obvious under the lighting, and Seokjin doesn’t bring it up, because he knows Jungkook would make a joke out of it, and would feel bad for making such a big deal out of something so seemingly small.

He destroys the flash drive. He keeps going to therapy. He remembers more and more of that night. He receives an expected diagnosis: post-traumatic stress disorder. His therapist says the onset was delayed somehow, but that it was probably inevitable. He shares this with his bandmates and the company, along with small details, when he finds himself triggered by small gestures on bad days.

No, it’s okay. Just don’t hold both my wrists like that.

Let me know, before you grab me from behind.

Can we skip this scene? It’s not, like, necessary to the plot, is it?

It’s not your fault. It’s just that I was having a nightmare, and the flashlight didn’t help.

And so he learns to be more open, and finds that happiness tastes better when his walls are down.

He finds, most importantly, that he’s whole. There is nothing lost, and there is nothing stolen. Some things were just sunken in, pushed down with violence and cruelty, but waiting to resurface. Some things are still sunken in, still not quite accessible, but he knows they’re there, and that settles him when he starts feeling incomplete.

Seokjin thinks that, when the tide rises again, and it feels too deep and too strong to fight against, floating is not so bad, if only he lets himself do so, and when it passes, he’ll get slowly back to the shore.

After all, Seokjin doesn’t want to be the strongest, or the most mature, the most talented, the most diligent, or the most independent.

Seokjin just wants to be happy, and reaching for happiness is just like reaching for a hand or leaning on a shoulder: it’s always right there. He just has to know he deserves it, and let himself have it.