Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Turned into ruins, our memories into ashes,

With resentment, my heart is heavy,

'Cuz you don't understand me anymore,

To make my resentment stop, please,

Take my hand, once again,

Hope it's just a painful dream.

“Soundcheck in ten.”

It’s the voice of their staff that startles Taehyun out of his concentrated focus on the script in his hand. He’s read it enough times that he’s gone almost cross-eyed, and he’s memorised it well enough, but nerves settle in the pit of his stomach nevertheless.

Across from him, Soobin lets out a loud groan. “I love our fans, but do we have to have such a difficult language barrier? English will be the death of me.”

“If you’re bad at it, hyung, then just say that.” Beomgyu shoots back, a teasing grin lighting up his face.

Soobin bristles. “Ya, Choi Beomgyu! You’re the worst out of all of us, what are you talking about?”

Beomgyu laughs his usual loud laugh. It sounds more obnoxious in the small room they’re crammed in, but Taehyun doesn’t mind. He never does. “I never said I wasn’t, hyung, but you’re the one complaining about it, anyway–”

Sensing an unnecessary argument brewing, Taehyun intervenes. “Guys, stop it.” He says, trying not to sound amused. “We don’t even need translators – all of us are doing more than fine, I think.”

Both the Chois turn to blink at him, but before either of them can shoot back a smart response, Yeonjun interrupts them, rolling his eyes as he looks up from his phone.

“Taehyun is right, and you both really need to set your priorities straight. Now get up and warm up before one of you pulls a muscle up there. I don’t want to see anyone crying about how they couldn’t show their best to Moas today – we only have one night in LA. Let’s make the best of it.”

Taehyun turns his ear outside the tent at the reminder, and a smile pulls at his mouth at the loud, almost explosive sound of the cheers of the crowd waiting outside, and his chest warms at the sound of the voices chanting their names. Around 7,000 fans were waiting for them, waiting to sing along to their songs, having paid hundreds of dollars just to be able to see them, and a thrill runs up his spine at that. No matter how many years pass by, no matter for how long he does this, the rush before meeting his fans will always be exhilarating. If anything would feel unreal to Kang Taehyun for ages to come, it is the love he receives; love he doesn’t think he’s done nearly enough to deserve.

As a fan of many groups himself, Taehyun likes to think he knows how his own fans think and feel, which is why he’s able to reciprocate so well – but it’s still hard to accept that he’s come this far at times. Sometimes he wakes up in the body of exhausted trainee Taehyun, expecting to work the day away and not even be rewarded at the end, overlooked for all his efforts and left hanging by all his hopes. Other times he goes back to being debut Taehyun – accused of being cold-hearted and careless, talentless or too perfect, dubbed as BTS’s little brothers as a group, having the endless pressure of proving that they’re not entirely hopeless, shunned as boys who were trying to replace someone who couldn’t even be replaced, boys who got hate for months on end and their only mistake was having a dream and belonging to the same company as BTS. They never blamed their seniors, of course, seniors who supported them at each step and made sure they knew that they were loved. Seniors that were sweet, and kind, and hardworking, and built the name they had for themselves, and deserved every last drop of respect that they had earned. Taehyun was a bit of a fanboy when it came to his seniors, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

But times like these bring him back to the reason why it was worth enduring all of that. Here he stands, with members he adores, doing something he loves, surrounded by fans who he loves and who love him in return. He can’t ask for more than that – he doesn’t want to, really.

“Taehyun-ah,” Hueningkai calls, smile bright with the force of a thousand suns, eyes crinkled softly in joy. Taehyun grins back because it’s contagious, because he’s happy, and because he can’t help but be completely endeared.

“Let’s get it!” Hueningkai quips, winking playfully at him before turning back to the makeup artist who won’t stop fussing over him.

Taehyun smiles, humming.

But then things go wrong like this:

An angered fan.

A failed security system.

A bomb blast.

And dozens of innocent lives lost.

Screams. Loud, bloodcurdling screams, coming from every direction, from too many people, rocking Taehyun’s very core as he struggles to breathe, struggles to see, struggles to hear.

Smoke. Scattered fires. The stench of what he’d later find out is rotting, burning flesh.

Five boys watch wide-eyed as they’re ushered to safety, swiftly being led to cars that will lead them back to a no name hotel. Safe. Unharmed. Untouched.

While thousands of people die inside of their concert venue.

“What happened?” Soobin demands from the nearest staff member, his voice breaking badly, cheeks wet with tears as he gasps for breath.

The staff stares back grimly. “Armed attack. It was a suicide bomber – the bomb detonated. We’ve called the authorities. Let’s hope for the best.”

“Hope for the best?” Yeonjun echoes incredulously. “Thousands of fucking people are dying inside, and all we can do is hope for the best? A crazy suicide bomber just shows up to our concert, steals actual human lives, and we can’t even take responsibility? You can’t be serious–”

“Yeonjun hyung,” Hueningkai placates, weakly. His hands are shaking, and his face is leeched of colour. Taehyun wants to take his arm in his own to try and comfort him, like he usually does, but he can’t make himself move. He’s rooted to the spot. He doesn’t think there’s any comfort to be found right now, anyway.

“Please.” Beomgyu pipes in, softly, his own eyes full of pain and devastation.

Yeonjun pauses at the distress of their youngest, and he squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. “Fine.” He glares at the staff and turns back to Hueningkai, tone softening. “It’ll be fine, Kai. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Taehyun feels a nudge on his own shoulder, and he turns dead eyes over to Soobin, who’s eyeing him with concern. “Taehyun-ah, come on. Let’s go.” He says, voice trembling, and he takes his hand gently, and he leads him inside the car, and he forces some water down his throat, and he keeps asking if he’s okay but eventually stops after never getting a response.

Suicide bomber.

God knows how many dead. Murder. Death.

At their concert.

At their hands.

Their fans. Their Moas.

Their responsibility, their fault, their neglect.

Their downfall.

A flame inside Taehyun flickers, fights for its life, fails, and snuffs out for good.

The news.

“Tragic attack at the concert of Kpop group Tomorrow x Together…before the concert could even begin…”

“…thirty-seven were killed in a suicide attack yesterday, and hundreds are injured, out of which at least seventy are critical, the counts are going up as we speak…”

“The unsuspected attack occurred as fans were arriving for the concert…”

“…Hybe stays silent and refuses to comment on the current heartbreaking situation…”

“…fan outcries ignored as the state tries and covers for its security failure…”

Articles.

“TXT boycotted? Learn more on what Netizens think should be next for the group that is considered to be the next big Kpop sensation following BTS.”

“TXT popularity shoots up after a failed concert– not for the reasons you might think.”

“Fans pay more than they’d signed up for in This Kpop Group’s concert.”

“The Kpop fandoms and the general public comes together to mourn the tragic death of more than 40 innocents.”

Twitter.

NOW TRENDING UNDER KPOP

#TomorrowxTogether

#LA

#MOAs

#HYBE_CORRUPT

#TXT_FLOPS

#TXT_MURDERERS

#TXT_SPEAK

#WE_DEMAND_ANSWERS

#FuckAmerica

NOW TRENDING UNDER TXT

#TAEHYUN_WHERE_ARE_YOU

#FREEOURBOYS

#SYSTEMFAILURE

#tubatu

#MOAS_STAND_BEHIND_TXT

#AMERICA_CORRUPT

TRENDING GLOBALLY

#R.I.P

#LA_Tragedy

Youtube.

WATCH NOW: LIVE FOOTAGE of TXT fans outside of the arena as they try and run for their lives.

Here’s why we think TXT’s career is over before it even started (You will LOL).

Suicide Bomber or Crazy Fan: Theories on what ACTUALLY happened.

Was it planned? Here’s what we think!

When Taehyun was younger, he found a book on the nervous system and human coping mechanisms. He learned about how people have different reactions to the same situation, and he’s seen it happen around him a couple times, so he isn’t surprised at what happens next.

Beomgyu locks himself in his studio, claiming he needs space, which they all immediately respect. Beomgyu feels the most out of all of them, so it’s understandable he’d rather be alone than be misunderstood. Taehyun can’t help but think of how empathy is a curse most of the time.

Soobin switches to leader mode and talks to the staff members in hushed voices, but Taehyun can clearly hear the frustration and anger in his tone build as all his suggestions for what they should do are steadily rejected. His shoulders eventually slump in defeat, and he shakes his head before disappearing into his room, slamming the door with a force that makes Kai jump beside Taehyun.

Kai – who’s rubbing soothing circles into Taehyun’s side and chanting affirmations under his breath. He’s still shaking and pale, but neither of them are big on emoting, so Taehyun lets him do what he needs to as he sits frozen on the couch, his arm slowly going numb under Kai’s death grip.

Yeonjun’s the only one really missing. Ignoring all the protests from the staff, their oldest walked off as soon as they reached their dorm. He reassured them that he’s just going for a walk, and he’ll be right back. Kai protested hard, saying it was dangerous and they didn’t need to lose anyone else – but Yeojun just shook his head and left without a word. Taehyun tried to placate Kai as much as he could, because he understood each of them had their own way of coping, and if Yeonjun needed to walk some of it off, then he deserved that time to himself. Taehyun is worried too, of course, but he knows Yeonjun will be careful.

Just then, the door clicks open, revealing Yeonjun, who’s drenched in rain and breathing hard, his eyes on fire as he storms into the room.

Taehyun blinks up at him, trying to figure out what’s wrong – or rather, what happened that made it worse.

“Everyone come out here right now,” Yeonjun calls, almost fuming now. Soobin and Beomgyu appear a bit too quickly, as if they’d just been waiting for an excuse to come out anyway.

“What is it?” Beomgyu asks uneasily, eyes shifting from member to member.

Yeonjun exhales heavily. “Did any of you check the media?”

Soobin frowns. “You know it’s not wise to do that given the situation–”

“Well, did you?”

There’s a heavy pause. Then, “Yes.”

It’s Taehyun who speaks first, and Yeonjun immediately turns to him. “Then you know what they’re saying.”

Taehyun nods, and when he speaks, his voice is bitter and sharp as glass. “That’s what they do, hyung. Something bad happens, and everyone has something to say about it. The death count, the accusations, the end of us, the dark jokes and whatnot – everything is already out there.”

Yeonjun’s expression crumples. “I fucking hate it.”

“Both of you shouldn’t have done that,” Soobin reprimands, expression stern. Then it softens. “It’s not good for our mental health, guys.”

“Taehyun-ah…” Beomgyu interrupts, approaching Taehyun and taking his hand in his. His eyes are missing their usual spark, and his face is pleading. “How many…?”

A long time ago, Taehyun was jokingly dubbed as Beomgyu’s personal translator because of how deeply he could understand him, how well he could finish his sentences, how thoughtful he was when it came to Beomgyu. After a point, it wasn’t a joke to him anymore, and somewhere down the lane, Taehyun started to take the role a bit too seriously, so he immediately knows what the older boy is asking him.

“Under fifty, hyung,” he informs, carefully taking in the change in Beomgyu’s expressions – pain flashes over his features first, then despair, then guilt, and finally, the trembling mouth that struggles to say anything at all. Taehyun understands, he always does, and squeezes the hand in his in support.

“I know.” He whispers. His own eyes sting, but he ignores the urge to give into his tears. As the more emotionally stable one, he feels a sense of responsibility towards his more emotional members. He can’t afford to risk being weak right now.

Beomgu leans into him, and Taehyun catches him in his lap as the older winds long arms around his shoulders and hides his face into Taehyun’s chest with a painful noise. Taehyun doesn’t complain. He simply shifts them into a more comfortable position and runs a comforting hand down Beomgyu’s back as he feels his shirt getting damp with fresh tears.

“Fuck,” Soobin swears at the death count, dropping on the couch and putting his head in his hands.

Kai speaks up for the first time in a while. “Is it bad to feel relieved?” He whispers.

Three heads turn to him in shock, the fourth still safely hidden away in Taehyun’s chest, now clutching his shirt for dear life.

“Relieved?” Yeonjun echoes, stunned.

Kai is immediately remorseful, but he continues. “It’s just that-of course it’s a tragedy, hyung, and I wish we hadn’t come here at all, I wish we could erase what happened, hell, I wish it was me instead of them, but–but I expected thousands of them dead, and the fact that they’re not–that not all of them are–it’s almost relieving, and I feel like such a fucking jerk for thinking it–” and Kai breaks off on a hiccup, swallowing a sob as he shakes his head, face contorted in pain. “Just–forget I said anything. I’m being dumb.”

“You’re not,” Yeonjun counters immediately, taking the spot beside Kai and putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s–you’re not alone in thinking that, you’re just the only one brave enough to say it. It’s okay, Kai-ah.”

Kai merely nods in response, still looking quite miserable.

“It’s not as bad as we first thought,” Soobin puts in, his gaze soft as he stares at Kai. “It’s okay to be relieved, Huening. It doesn’t make any of it okay, but it’s still fine. It’s been a hard day. You need to give yourself a break.”

Kai's answer is a grateful nod, and they lapse into a united, contorted silence.

Taehyun stares at all his members sitting around him, and he can’t help but relax just an inch as they comfort each other just by existing. He was worried for nothing – all those coping mechanisms mentioning fight or flight, turning on one another, fighting it out – he had nothing to worry about, really. He knows these boys better than that; better than anyone else – eight years together tend to do that. He knows Beomgyu, who needs comfort but comforts better in return than anyone else. He knows Kai, who is sweet and practical and serious in these situations and serves as a pillar of strength even if he’s shaken and unsure. He knows Soobin, who’s never failed to lead them in the right direction when they were lost with no sense of what to do next. And he knows Yeonjun most of all – with a heart of gold and kindness that often acts as a shield of protection and safety. Choi Yeonjun, who he met more than nine years ago, who never left his side, who refuses to let the five of them fall apart, who is their glue no matter what comes their way.

Taehyun should’ve known better. This family, these people – they’re here to last. They’ll last no matter what. He needs to remember that, and he needs to believe in it enough to have faith.

He lets out a deep breath, chest still heavy, but he pulls Beomgyu closer to his chest for comfort and forces a smile for the other three.

For a few moments, in the small, cramped living room, five boys sit beside each other in shared silence and just breathe. They just exist and thank the stars for having each other.

In retrospect, Taehyun shouldn’t have taken it for granted.

In retrospect, he should have held onto the little things.

Because at the end, that's all that had mattered.

Because at the end, that's all it had taken for everything to fall apart.

Chapter Text

Secrets that can’t be spoken and the worries that are left behind,

And the empty spot without you is swept away in the wind,

Our path is long and there’s not a single star to brighten it up,

I made a wish upon the sky,

That we could remember each other forever.

“They want us to ignore it.”

Four pairs of eyes snap up to stare at Soobin as he delivers the news, and he tries not to let out a sigh of complete despair at the mess of their situation.

“They want us to what?” Yeonjun sounds rightfully incredulous and furious, and Soobin feels the same way, but it changes nothing about anything.

“You heard me,” he mutters, dropping into the space beside Kai, who’s staring at him with wide eyes. “They said they’ll handle the press and the protests as long as we keep our mouths shut and lay low until the situation dies down. I’ve tried to argue against it, but they won’t budge.”

Yeonjun glares at him. “Did you try hard enough?”

Soobin bristles. “Of course I did, hyung. What are you even trying to say? I spent almost six hours in that fucking room trying to convince them that we need to do at least something, especially for our own peace of mind, especially since this is linked to us directly, but they–” Soobin grabs at his hair, restless and angry and so fucking helpless. “They refuse to listen to me.”

“Bighit usually adopts this approach when dealing with backlash and any other problems.” Taehyun says, face blank, voice steady and calm. “It’s nothing new. It’s not your fault, Soobin hyung.”

Beomgyu turns to him with a troubled look on his face. “But we owe our fans something, Taehyun-ah. Starting with the biggest apology we can come up with.”

Taehyun doesn’t make eye contact with Beomgyu. He never does. Soobin always finds it odd, but he never questions it.

“I know, Beomgyu hyung,” Taehyun murmurs, fiddling with his hands. “But–it’s not that easy. Not for us, not when we’re ordered to stay silent.”

Soobin’s anger flares. “I’ll keep trying. See if I can get anywhere. At least one public apology or press conference or event should be allowed. Lives were lost at our concert, and we can’t even address it?”

“Fucking bullshit.” Yeonjun comments darkly, glaring down at his hands.

“Our fans are going to start hating us if we abandon them like this,” Kai says in a small voice, hugging his knees to his chest.

No one says anything because they all know it’s the simple truth. If they don’t do something, they will be boycotted, most likely for good, and Soobin doesn’t know why their company doesn’t see that. He knows they’re not blind to it; he just wishes they’d make better decisions or hear them out at the least. The worst part about it is that they want to apologise, they want to help in any way that they can, they need to be of help in order to stay sane, but they’re simply not allowed to, and that just won’t do. So Soobin will try again, and again, and again, and keep trying as many times as it takes to make a difference. He owes it to his members, who have never left his side, and he owes it to his fans, who have supported him when no one else has. He can’t afford to disappoint them or himself, especially not this time.

“I’ll try again,” Soobin tells his members, determined. “Please don’t lose hope, guys. We’ll make it happen.”

Beomgyu gives him a small smile, eyes tired. “We all know you’re trying your best, hyung. Thank you for everything that you’re doing.”

“Know that it’s enough,” Yeonjun adds, looking remorseful. “Know that we recognise your efforts, and we appreciate you for it. Sorry for lashing out earlier. It’s been… a hard few days.”

Tears threaten to overwhelm Soobin, because he’s so absolutely lucky to have ended up in a group like this, with people who never fail to understand him, who never fail to take his side, but he swallows them back. “No worries, hyung, I can understand. None of us are okay. I’m just glad we’re in this together.”

Kai turns to him, taking Soobin’s hand in his own. He shoots him a fond little grin. “Forever,” he promises.

Soobin wishes he’d known then that promises like forever usually never last.

He wishes he’d known better back then, and he wishes he could have done things differently.

Forever.

It never lasted. He doesn’t know why he thought it would.