Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Taehyung had always known he was impulsive. Not necessarily reckless, but he wasn’t one to shy away from actions when he saw fit. For a prank, for example, or an extra session of choreography practice, or a chase of Jungkook in the parking lot – not a problem. But when he swung his fist that day –

“- nothing but wanna-be-celebrities -”

“- a bunch of girls with short hair -”

and

“Kim Namjoon’s a disgrace for rap history-”

“- just a chicken like his dongsaeng, let’s call him with this little twig in the parking lot, show him how to be a real rapper-”

“- saw the small one around the bathroom earlier, maybe should rough him up first -”

No. That was different.

The walls of their apartment kept closing in as Taehyung waited for his verdict. The little blood on his knuckles was long gone, the only traces of his brawl were dark circles blooming on the left side of his face, now numb from the ice pack Seokjin had magically fished out the second they’d stepped foot inside.

A race game on their TV was sending off meaningless sounds and colours that filled the tense air in the living room, just to add some stimulus to help them waste their time, Jimin and Jungkook’s fingers mindlessly pressing, their expressions not changing at victory or defeat while Taehyung was watching their avatars, his mind still where he’d left Namjoon and Yoongi with their manager. And the bastard’s manager, of course. The bastard himself had been sent to the ER. His nose might have been broken; Taehyung didn’t know.

He wished the whole thing hadn’t happened, of course. This torturous wait alone was enough for that. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret that punch. Or the one after that.

But he did wish he’d never met Pan Jungdae after the ceremony in the deserted halls. He did wish Namjoon’s long-lasting rival, enemy even, after his latest insults on live TV, hadn’t talked to Taehyung. Hadn’t insulted his hyung with that dirty smirk and his disgusting friends at his side, hadn’t talked down one of the most hard-working persons Taehyung knew, looking him straight in the face. He’d threatened them, with a malicious crack of joints, had already started to crowd Taehyung to the elevators.

It wasn’t Taehyung’s fault. (Right?) But his gut churned at the thought of his hyungs having to listen to accusations and negotiate about compensations and consequences on Taehyung’s behalf.

It wasn’t necessarily the public that was the problem. He couldn’t imagine anyone having an interest in going public with this. Even if Taehyung was considered partly at fault, the bastard had started it. There was no way he could profit from threatening an idol, even less a BTS member, no matter how dark and rebellious he was painting his image.

No, everyone would want to keep this silent. The biggest question was the cost, and how their company would deal with it internally.

Taehyung felt another silent prayer escape his constricting heart. He didn’t even remember how much he’d told Namjoon. The elder had quickly checked if he was injured, only half-listening to Taehyung’s incoherent rambling, his face expressionless as the gears were turning – and he’d sent Taehyung home with a single indisputable order.

It’s going to be fine, his brain tried to override the train of anxious thoughts. Because Namjoon had taken over. He’d trusted Taehyung to trust him, and he would figure it out.

And if he really got Taehyung out of this without a huge amount of trouble, like Taehyung had a feeling he would, Taehyung would owe him the world for it.

Taehyung jumped up as the apartment’s door opened with a quiet click behind him.

They still hadn’t gotten an update, and the tension in his body had increased with every passing minute. But even if it was on purpose, even if his hyungs were consciously letting him stew in the anxious corners of his mind, he couldn’t argue that he didn’t deserve it. So, he hadn’t dared to ask.

But to his disappointment, Namjoon didn’t enter.

Instead, it was Yoongi, who closed the door behind him and gave a quick nod to the maknaes that had formed a line once Jungkook and Jimin had stood up next to Taehyung. He didn’t meet Taehyung’s eyes.

“Hyung-”

Taehyung’s quiet voice dissipated into the void as Seokjin greeted the newcomer, stepping out of the kitchen he’d vanished into with Hoseok. “Finally, Yoongi-ah. The food was getting – where’s Namjoon?”

Taehyung didn’t know if he should be glad for the distraction as he watched Yoongi for clues to how bad things had gone. Maybe he did have to worry after all.

Yoongi blinked up at Seokjin, calm as ever. “He’s waiting downstairs. We’re eating out tonight.” And with that, he leaned to the side, raising his voice. “Hob-ie, where are you?”

Seokjin blinked. “But- I made grilled meat, like we talked this morning! Aren’t you guys going to eat?”

Yoongi made a grimace. “Sorry, hyung. Another time. Don’t wait up for us.”

Hoseok stumbled out of his room, his emergency bucket hat for unplanned outgoings still in his hand. “Sorry, guys,” he said with his usual smile and a wink as he rushed past Seokjin to get his shoes.

Taehyung swallowed as he tried to keep up with the events unfolding in front of him. “Hyung.”

Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi all turned to him at once, like they had forgotten his presence, but Taehyung’s eyes were on his hyung who hadn’t stepped closer than necessary, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, who, after a tiny but furious scolding of two sentences, had given Taehyung’s shoulder a pat earlier, one that Taehyung had interpreted as ‘it’s going to be alright’.

There was no immediate reaction after that, and Taehyung almost thought he’d had to spell it out, but thankfully, Yoongi let him off the hook quickly. “Don’t worry, Taehyung. We dealt with most of it. There might be some internal reactions, we’ll talk to the management again, but the worst is handled.”

Taehyung let out a breath that everyone had been holding since they had reached home.

“Thank god,” Jimin murmured next to him, and Jungkook’s hand landed on his shoulder. Taehyung could breathe again, but his lungs were still rattling, like they could only fill halfway. “And Namjoon?”

Yoongi frowned. “What about him?”

As all eyes fixated on him again, Taehyung felt an uneasy breeze on his skin. He felt stupid, like a child, asking for comfort in a perfectly safe situation. But he had to know. “Where is he?” Is he angry? Is that why he didn’t come upstairs?

Yoongi heard the unasked questions, too. A flicker crossed his eyes, darkness? Anger? But it settled into something soft, like mercy, almost pity, and the rattle in Taehyung’s breath grew into a hard rock in the depths of his lung.

Of course, Namjoon was angry. Taehyung had already made peace with the lecture he’d receive. The more the adrenaline had died, the more he’d realised that he deserved it. Especially from Namjoon, who’d had to deal with the mess of his actions.

But it wasn’t like Namjoon to put off a discussion or fight, let alone a one-sided lecture. Not with the emphasis he put on a healthy, open communication.

Yoongi sighed heavily. “He’s… It’s going to be alright, Taehyung, don’t worry.”

The rock grew, spreading coldness from the inside, Seokjin’s raised eyebrows and Hoseok’s confused frown as he craned his neck to look up at Yoongi only increasing the nausea.

Yoongi slipped out the door with a mumbled ‘see you later’.

“Hyung!” Taehyung called, but he was already gone. Instead, Hoseok, who’d just scrambled onto his feet, paused, looking at Taehyung.

“Tell him that I’m sorry.” It slipped out, Taehyung hadn’t thought about it, but it was the truth.

Hoseok’s worried expression softened into a bright smile immediately. “Aww, don’t worry, Taetae, I’ll soften our leader into softest sweetest cookie dough, and you can apologize yourself, and be forgiven instantly.” He gave him a thumbs up and a wink, and Taehyung replied with a nod, although he couldn’t quite muster a smile.

And with that, the anxious wait started again.

It was way past midnight when the rap-line returned, everyone already in their rooms for the night. Taehyung blinked as he immediately found himself standing at his door, hand already on the handle, contemplating if he should go out and… and what? Confront his punishment? Force Namjoon to deal with him now? Conclude the already horrible day with a midnight lecture in the hallway?

No. He shouldn’t. But he wanted to see Namjoon, he wanted to make sure everything would be alright, even if Namjoon was still angry, even if… He had to make sure they would be okay, Namjoon and Taehyung, had to see his hyung with his own eyes, even if he risked all the above.

So, he listened as the voices shuffled past his room, towards the bathroom at the end of the hall, drunk Hoseok’s voice untypically cheery, and Namjoon’s giggles interrupted by hick-ups.

Taehyung smiled faintly. They were wasted.

He opened his door in time to watch Hoseok lead Namjoon into the bathroom, the soft light barely illuminating Yoongi’s relaxed features as he leant against the wall - until he looked straight at Taehyung and immediately furrowed his brows.

Taehyung’s smile threatened to crawl back. “I couldn’t sleep,” he explained. In a whisper. Because he didn’t want to wake the others. Not because a simple frown had shaken his resolution like an earthquake.

“Go back, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi whispered back.

“I thought – Maybe I could just talk to Namjoon-hyung -”

“No. Not now.” Yoongi pushed away from the wall, suddenly reminding Taehyung of their bodyguards whenever they were in public - a protection against potential enemies.

Taehyung stepped forward. “Just for a second? I just want to apologise, hyung.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Not now,” he repeated, firm, but without any harshness. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

A sob – or hick-up? And a giggle echoed from the bathroom, accompanied by the running tab.

“Go to sleep, Taehyung,” Yoongi insisted softly, forcing Taehyung to tear his gaze from the bathroom.

Taehyung nodded then, not trusting his voice with a simple ‘okay’ as he turned back. A deep sigh made all its way through the hall just before he closed his door.

Chapter Text

“Taehyung-ie, it’s time for breakfast.” Jimin’s quiet but stubborn melody repeated against the heavy fog.

It wasn’t a difficult decision. Taehyung could always eat, but he most definitely couldn’t chase away the clouds weighing on his eyes right now. He turned beneath his sheets, pulling them higher, hoping he’d moved away from the door and the other had gotten the message.

“Taehyung, come on.”

Taehyung would wonder why Jimin was so insistent today, but he only had the energy to ignore him.

Jimin sighed. “Taehyung. Namjoon-hyung said he’ll leave in a couple minutes.”

Taehyung didn’t even blink at first. Why should he care about the schedule of Namjoon, especially when he’d just fallen asleep because –

Namjoon? Suddenly his eyes were wide open as the gnarling acid in his stomach spread like it had never been away. He jerked around, finding Jimin still at his door, a faint smile not nearly hiding the concern in his eyes, like he knew he was baiting Taehyung to his doom. “Are you coming?”

Taehyung nodded with sharp movements, taking a breath before entangling himself from his covers.

“Morning,” Taehyung greeted carefully when he entered the kitchen a minute later.

Everyone was up already. Jungkook and Seokjin, along with Jimin, had turned in early for the night, and none of them had Taehyung’s monsters keeping them awake throughout the night. The rap-line was more of a surprise, as at least Hoseok and Namjoon should be fighting their hangovers about now. Maybe the pitch-black brews in front of them and the sharp tinge of coffee in the air had something to do with that.

The uneasy feeling cut sharper as his greeting went ignored by both of them.

Yoongi didn’t speak up either, raising a hand in a greeting, the only one showing the effects of their late-night trip. Seokjin answered instead, his voice as cheerful as ever, only a quick dart of his eyes hinting that the reactions of their leader and their sunshine member hadn’t been Taehyung’s imagination. “Good morning, Taehyung-ah. Just in time for Jungkook’s new recipe, look!” And he gestured towards something that started off as an omelette, but there was definitely some green and purple in there.

Jungkook smiled, too, and shifted around to make room for Taehyung between himself and Jimin, who was pouring orange juice in Taehyung’s glass. Taehyung gave them a grateful nod although it didn’t feel like he would be eating much.

Even after Taehyung sat down, Namjoon didn’t look up. Hoseok’s glare at his plate wasn’t much different, but unexpected. Taehyung hadn’t realized how much an assuring smile from him meant until he was being deprived of it. He frowned as he started to pick the food on his plate with his chopsticks. Hoseok had known what had happened, even before he had left yesterday. It didn’t make sense. He looked up again.

Hoseok was talking to Namjoon softly, the other was nodding, Yoongi was staring at his drink, still half asleep. Jimin was asking Seokjin about their schedule today, mentioning Taehyung’s name a couple times to make him join the conversation, while Jungkook was inhaling his food, although less messy than usual. The tense aura didn’t go unnoticed by him either, then.

Taehyung’s frown deepened. Was there something else? Something he didn’t know? Why would Hoseok be angry after talking to Namjoon?

Taehyung tried to guess the holes in the previous evening. They hyungs had found Taehyung and Pan Jungdae after they’d already been pulled apart. Jungdae had been sent to the ER, and Taehyung back home. Namjoon and Yoongi had gone to a meeting with Jungdae’s managers, but the bastard hadn’t been present, so Taehyung had thought it wasn’t essential for him to be there either. He’d trusted Namjoon to deal with it, and their leader had implied that Taehyung’s presence was more of a hindrance, but now… Maybe Jungdae’s team had added something? Maybe they had blamed on Taehyung for all of it, had left out the part where the bastard had provoked and threatened him, maybe Jungdae had been involved in the talks, Taehyung didn’t put it past him to just invent half of the story –

The wheels in his brain threatened to burn through his mind, but Taehyung quickly smothered them to stillness. He trusted Namjoon, trusted him to trust Taehyung. Namjoon would at least call Taehyung to confirm before he believed that bastard blindly. Right? He knew Taehyung wouldn’t attack anyone out of nowhere.

Taehyung thought of all the late nights he’d spent in Namjoon’s room even after they had gotten their own rooms. All the quiet moments Namjoon had found him in, had pulled out a tiny question like unclogging his brain, had found the pressure points with a simple ‘it’s still too loud, isn’t it?’ and released the strain in his body just like that. Taehyung had stared at him at first, until Namjoon had taught him to pour it into words, the fears, the loneliness, had helped him to sort it out and find ways to make himself heard in a world that threatened to drown them with every step.

He'd been surprised that he wasn’t alone in those deep, threatening waters, that even their ever-standing, unwavering pillar wasn’t immune to the same doubts, even at times when Namjoon’s role in their team seemed most secure and Taehyung’s most shaky. He remembered feeling honoured to see that part of their leader, treasuring that warmth and safety. That belief that they would be alright, all of them, no matter what happened, as long as Namjoon was there.

Taehyung shook his head, pulled himself back into the present. No. Namjoon knew Taehyung didn’t take their struggles lightly, even if he acted like it sometimes. He knew Taehyung wouldn’t just punch someone out of nowhere. And he wouldn’t take anyone’s word over Taehyung, not without giving him a chance to explain himself.

Even if Taehyung had to fight for that chance for some reason.

“Namjoon-hyung, can we –”

The look Hoseok threw at Taehyung filled with disdain made Taehyung wish he’d go back to ignoring him. But that wasn’t what had made him snap his mouth shut with a tiny flinch.

Namjoon chugged the last sips of his mug and put it back down on the table, hard. Not with enough aggression to see any meaning behind it, but sharp enough to cut through the already tense atmosphere into complete silence.

Taehyung’s pulse rose as everybody faced their leader. Well, everybody except for Yoongi, who’d propped up his elbow on the table and now placed his forehead into his elevated palm, hiding his eyes with a tired sigh.

“About yesterday.” Namjoon was staring into his empty plate with a serious frown as if it had insulted him personally, and he didn’t look up, even after he started talking. “I assume everyone knows what happened, so I won’t repeat any of it.”

There was a pause, a moment of silence that only increased the cold starting to climb up Taehyung’s feet. He had half a mind to jump up and start running, but he forced himself to stay still, to not even tap his leg.

“There will be no punishments for now. Not external, not internal. This one time,” and he made another deliberate pause, his frown deepening, “this one time, there will be no consequences.”

Hoseok, who’d found a new victim for his frown in the bottle of orange juice next to Jimin’s hand, scoffed. Yoongi exhaled.

That was good news, right? No consequences, when it could have jeopardized Taehyung’s image, it could have caused a scandal that would haunt all of them for years. It should be good news. But Namjoon’s words didn’t calm anything in Taehyung. He wanted to know what was still standing between them, he wanted to understand the dark colours swirling around Namjoon, he wanted to see his hyung’s eyes.

But Namjoon didn’t look up. Even as he continued. “That doesn't mean that it was in any way acceptable. Violence is not the answer. Never is. And none of you, in any situation, will ever act like that again. Nothing excuses what happened yesterday.” He was still glaring at his plate, like it hadn't just served him his food, but presented the most disgusting piece of dirt. Like it had nothing but evil, vile intentions, like it was the enemy that had dared to enter their home and betray them.

“Does it not matter what he did?” Taehyung heard his own voice, quiet but firm in protest. Yes, it was wrong, but he didn’t deserve this hatred that made Namjoon refuse to use Taehyung’s name. He didn’t – he wasn’t just a piece of – “What he said –”

“Didn’t you listen?” Hoseok’s voice cut in, venom in his voice directed at him, with nothing in between them to shield Taehyung from the viciousness. “It doesn’t. Nothing matters when you –”

“But he deserved it!” Suddenly, Taehyung was standing, ignoring the surprised flinches from Jimin and Jungkook, and Seokjin’s voice calling him. “I couldn’t just walk away – He was standing there and saying those things about –”

“I don’t give a shit about he deserved, because he didn’t deserve –”

Taehyung didn’t even get the chance to follow the meaning of that sentence, let alone ask about what the rest would be, as Namjoon’s quiet voice interrupted Hoseok. “Why not?”

No one was breathing.

“What?”

Namjoon looked at him, for the first time, and it was nothing like the last time they had talked. Last time, Namjoon’s fingers had been running over the now bruised cheek, his sharp eyes running calculations, but worry for Taehyung the most prominent thought.

Now, he looked like he’d slept even less than Taehyung, maybe not at all, and he looked like he was about to fling Taehyung against the wall. “Why couldn’t you just walk away?”

Taehyung suppressed the urge to inch away, only because he’d hit his chair already, the armrests and Jimin and Jungkook and the walls of the kitchen caging him like prison walls. He opened his mouth, but his mind was blank under Namjoon’s stare.

Namjoon had never looked at him like that. Not when he’d snuck out of their hotel in Thailand with Jungkook and they’d had to form a search party for them, or when he’d broken the wall mirror on set with a prop he wasn’t supposed to touch.

“Were the exits blocked? Did they tie you up?”

Taehyung knew they were all staring at him. He knew he had to answer. And he knew why he had done it, why he had thought it was worth it, but…

He shook his head, as much as he dared.

A flicker tore through Namjoon’s eyes, before his expression changed into something dark as the night. “Then it doesn’t matter.”

Taehyung grew cold as he watched Namjoon’s face twist viciously.

“Then, I don’t care what anyone deserves,” he flared. “I know what you deserve. I know what we deserve.” He pointed at Seokjin, whose eyes widened immediately. “He worked his ass off for this, for us. For years.” He nodded at Jungkook next, who shrunk back. “This kid sacrificed his childhood for this. Do you even remember how young he was when we first started?”

Rocks clogged up Taehyung’s throat as Jungkook’s bewildered eyes darted between them.

It wasn’t fair. Taehyung knew all this. He’d been there, as much as Namjoon. Namjoon knew that Taehyung knew.

“They deserved that you had restrained yourself, turned around, and walked away. They didn’t deserve this. No one here worked so hard for years for you to risk it as you please. I didn’t -” He broke off, an inexplicable flush on his face – was it anger? Disappointment?

It made Hoseok turn away.

Namjoon took a deep breath, and his cold voice returned, unbendable like iron gates into Taehyung’s face. “If anything like this happens again, Kim Taehyung,” and he spit his name like a used chewing gum that started tasting foul, not like he hadn’t said it once in almost 24 hours, “if you even think about - about repeating this, if I ever find myself in this situation again, one of us will be gone.”

The words hit him like a kick straight into his stomach. He fell back into his chair. The voices, “Namjoon!”, “Hyung!”, even Yoongi’s sharp voice, “That’s enough!” – it all went over Taehyung’s head as he watched Namjoon turn to Yoongi with an unreadable expression, his words echoing in his head, putting a heavy vest around his lungs.

Hoseok was looking at Yoongi, too, with protest in his voice. It didn’t matter what his words were, they stung all the same, adding onto the weight letter for letter.

“That’s enough, Namjoon.” Yoongi repeated with a tone he rarely pulled out, if ever. To Namjoon. “Don’t cross the line.”

Hoseok flared up, “But-”

“No. Either you think about your words, or you leave.”

There was a moment of shock, of muteness. A second. A third, before Namjoon stood up, turned on his heels and left, Hoseok just behind him, without another glance or word, leaving a cold, suffocating silence behind them.

Seconds passed, before Seokjin dared to speak. “He didn’t mean it,” he said, across the table, but his eyes flickered towards the hallway as the apartment door fell loudly into place.

Taehyung let out something that could have counted as a snort, in another universe. It seemed pretty clear and intentional to him.

Yoongi let out an annoyed breath. “Of course he didn’t mean it,” he said, his calmness just as sudden as his outburst earlier. But his confidence did make it easier to believe. “But I thought you wanted to apologize, not start a fight?” He only gave Taehyung a small look as he gathered Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s dishes along with his own, like he was asking why Taehyung had taken the left chair instead of right.

“I did,-” Taehyung’s voice cracked, and he blinked and suddenly tears burned on his skin, and he angrily wiped his eyes with his sleeves.

Jimin muttered something worriedly, Jungkook’s hand landed on his back, stinging like thorns in his flesh.

Taehyung shoved it all away as he stood up again, pushed his chair back and stepped towards the door.

“Taehyung-ah.”

He stopped.

“Taehyung, look at me.” Yoongi’s hand on his shoulder softly pulled back to turn him around. His eyes were softer than they had been all morning. “It’s going to be alright.”

Taehyung bit his lips as he held back the words. He wanted to lash out, like it was Yoongi’s fault. Like he had been the one to hurt him, like he had been the one to cut open a wound in a place Taehyung hadn’t known he was vulnerable at.

“Just trust me. It’s going to be alright.”

“I did! I trusted you when you send me home, yesterday, when you showed up just to vanish again, when you sent me to bed last night!” His voice kept betraying him, a prickle in the corner of his eyes. Once again, he brought up his sleeves, like a toddler, even as he continued to rant, “I trusted you, I trusted him, but he won’t even listen! I didn’t even get to apologize!”

But Yoongi didn’t flinch, neither at his accusations nor his pathetic whining. Instead, he answered, somehow stern and soft at the same time. “Taehyung-ah, you punched another artist in the face. You almost broke his nose. Don’t you think you need to give us a little more than 24 hours? I am telling you, it’s going to be alright.”

Taehyung sniffed, without looking away. Yoongi seemed so confident. So sure. And it was true, he had trusted them until now. And they had gotten him out of a huge storm that could have befallen all of them.  

It didn’t take away the pain, though.

“Fine,” he mumbled, ducking away under his hyung’s gaze, but Yoongi pulled him into one of his awkward embraces.

“Just- Just give it a little time, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung nodded into his hyung’s shoulder, trying to find comfort in the other hands and voices that joined them as well.

Chapter Text

Taehyung was patient. He was patient when the few times his schedule overlapped with Namjoon or Hoseok, they ignored him. He was patient when Jimin kept trying to lift his mood whenever he saw him, when Jungkook started watching everyone with big eyes the second he thought no one was watching him, when both Seokjin and Yoongi acted like there was nothing wrong. He was patient when three of seven were silent during dinner, when two left early, when the hot soup hit cold and hard against his throat. He was patient when he forced himself to eat it anyway, although he felt watched and small and like he shouldn’t be there.

He was patient when he joined Jimin and Jungkook’s early breakfast at the crack of dawn, although his schedule didn’t call for him until hours later, leaving the house with them at the risk of falling asleep in one of the uncomfortable set chairs, just to make sure the others could have breakfast in peace. He was patient when Namjoon’s face darkened mid-conversation when they came across in the hallways of the company building although their eyes never met, when Hoseok threw him another set of icy eyes, making Taehyung once again feel like a dangerous freak facing a bodyguard.

He tried to be patient when he ran after them, called out, and they froze midtrack. That wasn’t impatience, right? Because Yoongi had encouraged him to apologize. He tried to control his voice when he apologized, ready to release all the tension if Namjoon just turned around. Namjoon didn’t. And Hoseok’s unreadable expression refused to clear, insisting on this recently familiar disguise so alien on the usually expressive face. Taehyung was patient as Namjoon added the phrase ‘as long as it doesn’t happen again,’ with a cold voice to the list of words that echoed in Taehyung’s brain whenever the anxious thoughts saw fit. He was patient when he watched their backs diminish as the distance between them increased once again. Like they had never stood closer than that.

He was patient, he waited until they had vanished behind a corner to let a couple tears fall. He was most patient when he didn’t throw a punch at a wall because he wasn’t some imponderable punk that attacked without reason, a danger to humanity, even if two out of six people who knew him best thought he was.

He was also patient during their evening practice, where they all were training their solo parts under Hoseok’s guidance, and Hoseok made him repeat his part a dozen times. He was patient but distracted, because his mind couldn’t stop keeping track of Namjoon’s position and Hoseok’s glares. He couldn’t even tell if he really was offbeat, but Hoseok’s face had fallen into his usual strict dancing dictator expression, and accusing his hyung of unprofessionalism when he put in so much effort felt like too much disrespect, even if only in thoughts.

So, Taehyung danced. And danced. And danced.

When he fell into his end pose, the blood in his ears pounded louder than the bass hammering from the speakers, but Hoseok’s critical frown persisted.

“The kicks before the end, your right foot is still slow.”

Taehyung was panting like a bull, but he nodded, although his eyes kept falling onto the unopened water bottle Hoseok had forgotten to drink because he was watching Taehyung. Taehyung focused on pushing energy into his burning legs. He wasn’t going to disappoint. Not again.

“It’s not.”

Taehyung wasn’t sure if he’d heard right, his ears were still buzzing, but both his and Hoseok’s eyes snapped to Yoongi, who was taking a break on the bench behind Hoseok.

“What?” Hoseok asked, thrown off.

“He was on time, so back off.” It sounded like a threat.

Taehyung really wished he didn’t, even as he struggled to gather his strength. He’d caused enough tension in the team already. He met Hoseok’s gaze, and almost recoiled at the intense stare. But to his surprise, there was no anger in them for once. He would have savoured it, if he hadn’t been too scared that the hostility would return with any mistake.

“Was it?” Hoseok asked Taehyung, who dropped back in a disguise to catch his breath.

“I dunno,” Taehyung muttered between two breaths, eyes flickering to Yoongi. “I’m not sure. Sorry, hyung.” The apology slipped out when he looked back at Hoseok, who was blinking at him, before averting his gaze suddenly.

The cold returned as Taehyung swallowed with difficulties. Did he do something wrong again? He should have paid more attention to the beat, that was what they had been working on for hours, maybe Hoseok thought he wasn’t taking it too seriously-

He flinched as something cool and damp touched his face, pulling him back to the moment. He looked up.

Hoseok, who’d just called Jungkook to the front, was shoving the water bottle at Taehyung, like he always did when he’d drilled them to the point where they just didn’t budge. He didn’t give any of his usual encouraging words, already instructing Jungkook, but his eyes flickered back to Taehyung again with tiny twitch of his brows until Taehyung accepted the bottle a couple seconds too late.

When Hoseok moved away, Taehyung took another breath and some generous sips of water before he felt prickling needles of eyes watching his back. When he turned around, Jimin and Seokjin looked up with a thumbs up and an encouraging smile while Namjoon had already raised his bottle enough to not be suspicious. Not giving Taehyung a drop of acknowledgement.

Taehyung tried to be patient, to trust his hyungs, as Yoongi had put it, but it was getting increasingly difficult. The water he’d just drunk turned into ice and Namjoon’s words echoed in his head like venomous threats.

He wasn’t particularly patient as he stormed out into the locker room, once again all eyes boring into the back of his skull.

Chapter Text

Taehyung ran into Namjoon just after leaving Jimin’s room to let him talk to his mother who’d just called, and that should have been a sign. Nothing good happened after leaving Jimin.

He’d skipped dinner, and he remembered his promise to Seokjin to eat the leftovers from the restaurant they had visited the day before. He couldn’t bring himself to eat much, but he would throw it away after a couple bites if he had to, at least to give Seokjin a little piece of mind. He was trying to convince Taehyung to eat, even taking him out with Jimin and Jungkook, and the least Taehyung could give him was the illusion that it was working. He was too wired to force down much his throat, his insides clenching every time he thought of Namjoon (which was very frequent, giving their lives were interlaced like a bundle of cords they hadn’t bothered to untangle for years), and he didn’t want to keep bothering Seokjin with it.

The thoughts disappeared as he turned into the kitchen and found himself staring at Namjoon.

Namjoon seemed equally surprised, looking at him with wide eyes, frozen mid chew, a piece of meat dangling from his lips. He was hunched over, and Taehyung would be making fun of a greedy goblin hiding gold against his body, though cute was a much more accurate description for their largest member – He would be, if his heart wasn’t beating in his throat, if his lungs hadn’t decided to deactivate, and if he weren’t hoping for time to go backward so he could go to his own room (or better even, to stop, so he could have Namjoon look at him with a different emotion than hatred and anger).

But his heart was beating, and air wasn’t flowing, and time had yet to listen to Taehyung’s pleas.

Namjoon blinked, and even the clumsy attempt to swallow couldn’t hide the clenching jaw and tensing shoulders.

Taehyung forced his breath before Namjoon said anything. He stepped forward and ignored the crumbling in his chest as Namjoon stepped back. Deep, calm breaths. That’s how their leader did it on stage, right? Just take a deep breath.

He looked away as Namjoon’s face turned into a grimace. “I-” Great. One word, and his voice was already breaking. “I wanted to take a drink, hyung, can I?”

His brain screamed at the stiffness, the awkwardness, opposing commands, hug him and run, but he didn’t dare, because he didn’t want to be shoved away again, and he didn’t want to, because it was still Namjoon. There had to be a way to make things work. There had to be. It was Namjoon.

The noise of Namjoon wordlessly stepping away from the fridge grated against the walls of his brain like nails on a chalkboard, but Taehyung ignored it again. He was not giving up.

So, he stepped forward, opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of juice as if it had been his intention from the beginning. He made sure to be gentle, to be slow, praying each second he would hear Namjoon’s voice in the next. Hopefully something kind, or forgiving, or maybe something neutral, like an info about the upcoming shootings, or even angry or sad or disappointed, just something he could work with.

It didn’t come.

“What are you doing?”

Taehyung flinched at the voice from the door. Seokjin.

But as he looked past the fridge, he realized Seokjin’s protesting frown wasn’t directed at him.

Namjoon answered a beat too late. “I didn’t eat anything after breakfast, and I found this in the fridge.”

It wasn’t fair. Taehyung was trying so hard, and he didn’t even get as little of a reaction as Seokjin’s nagging.

“It’s Taehyung’s. He hasn’t eaten anything either, so put it back.”

Taehyung froze, looking up at Seokjin, only because he was too scared to look at Namjoon.

Food in the fridge was everyone’s, though they tended to ask with take-out leftovers. It wasn’t a perfect system, and annoying accidents did happen all the time. But that piece of meat was not worth the panic it was causing in Taehyung’s chest.

“It’s okay, he can have it,” Taehyung threw in quickly, but he could already hear Namjoon putting it on the table.

“You said you would eat it-”

“No, it’s okay-” He turned, but Namjoon was already throwing his chopsticks into the sink with a stormy expression. “Hyung, you can have it.”

“I don’t want it.”

And okay, Taehyung might have lied, he couldn’t stand Namjoon’s voice flung at him like spit. “Hyung, please-” and suddenly it wasn’t about the food anymore.

“Taehyung, you said you’d eat it.” Seokjin again, out of nowhere, ruining it -

Taehyung whirled around, and Seokjin did look taken aback. “And he said he hasn’t eaten anything, and I said it’s fine!”

The fridge beeped for standing open for too long.

“Yah! You haven’t eaten anything either, and you promised me –”

Taehyung couldn’t believe Seokjin was still going. Didn’t he know how Namjoon had looked at him since that day? Why was he making it worse for a couple stupid calories? He slammed the door shut. “I lied! I don’t want to eat it, so why -”

“Watch your tone with your hyung.” Namjoon hissed like a sword in Taehyung’s back.

Seokjin’s eyes widened.

The panic burning through Taehyung’s mind deflated like someone had punched a hole in his balloon. He didn’t burst into pieces, didn’t whizz in the air uncontrollably. But within an unceremonious second he felt like a cheap and lifeless piece of plastic on the ground.

“Yah, Namjoon-ah, don’t just waltz into my conversation like you didn’t –” Seokjin started his rant, but Taehyung didn’t hear it.

Namjoon snapped back, and Taehyung didn’t hear that either.

He doesn’t care. The sentence flared so bright in his mind that nothing else had a chance. He doesn’t care. Taehyung was trying so hard, he was running endless circles- he could do a somersault then and there, and Namjoon wouldn’t give a shit.

“Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin’s hand landed on Taehyung’s shoulder, his arms wide in concern and care and sadness, but Namjoon stood right there and didn’t care.

The contact unfroze Taehyung from his stupor, and he twirled around, his heart racing like it could outrun the unfairness of it all. “What on earth do you want –”

But a tiny tug from Seokjin’s fingers on his shoulder, and the words and threats and all the regret he’d felt over the days and, most of all, the confining fear of Namjoon’s reaction, brought his brain to a halt. Because Taehyung had no idea what Namjoon would do – could do – if Taehyung exploded again.

He couldn’t explode. Namjoon wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

Namjoon hadn’t said anything yet, eyes locked on Taehyung but indecipherable, and Taehyung suddenly wondered if he was even seeing Taehyung.

Taehyung tried again, much softer, much more careful. “What do you want me to do?”

“You can start by respecting people who are taking care of you,” Namjoon sneered immediately.

Talk to me! Taehyung didn’t scream, but it was close. Let me speak, let me thank you or apologize or whatever you want!

But Namjoon had nodded towards Seokjin, who immediately bristled behind Taehyung.

“Don’t use me as an excuse, Kim Namjoon. I know he didn’t mean to disrespect me, and he knows I’m only worried about him. We can handle ourselves.” His hand still supported Taehyung’s shoulder, firm and strong, and Taehyung was filled with gratitude that he hadn’t left Taehyung’s side in this battle that shouldn’t have been one.

But the hand on Taehyung’s shoulder gave him the courage to continue. “Hyung?” He waited until Namjoon’s eyes landed on him, but they didn’t stay for long. “What do I have to do?”

Namjoon’s eyes darted to the door with a hooded expression, like he wanted to run, like he didn’t care what Taehyung had to say. “You don’t have to do anything,” he muttered as he made a move to go around the table to reach the door.

Taehyung didn’t want to give up yet. “You saved my career, I know. Is there a way to repay that? What can I do to apologize?”

Namjoon froze. “I said I don’t want anything -”

“Do you want me to throw myself at your feet? Is that what you want, hyung? Because -”

“Shut up.”

“- I will do it, if that’s going to –”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Namjoon cried out, almost frantic, and Taehyung flinched back.

Seokjin seethed furiously behind Taehyung, his hand almost pulling Taehyung behind him protectively. “Yah, Namjoon...”

“Just stay away from me!” If it wasn’t dripping venom, Taehyung would’ve sworn that Namjoon sounded desperate, but it was, and Taehyung wouldn’t swear on anything anymore.

Taehyung slumped in defeat. Another sentence that would follow him deep into the night.

Seokjin didn’t seem much affected. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t keep running around and yelling at people for nothing! Didn’t you just tell him not to be rude? Is that how you’re treating your friends, Namjoon?!”

It didn’t matter. Namjoon had told him to leave. That hate, that tone... It wouldn’t vanish until Taehyung left the room.

And Taehyung couldn’t do anything about it. “You don’t care.”

Namjoon’s eyes snapped over to him at the words that escaped Taehyung’s lips like the last rope in the deep sea. Taehyung wondered what he saw. If his perception of Taehyung had really been reduced to a delinquent stranger, a threat to the people he loved. If Taehyung had really been banished from that close circle.

What scared him even more was the fact that Taehyung couldn’t see much more either. He could see the breakfast table, he could see Namjoon’s back turned to him, he could see anger and hatred.

They were only reminding each other of bad things now.

The same words almost escaped his lips again. You really don’t care.

A door opened somewhere.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, before turning around. Seokjin’s soft eyes were on him, about to say soft words in the gentle tone he’d cheered up Taehyung for the last few days, he could see the hug forming in the pained frown above his eyes. He could see his own helplessness mirrored in them.

This was the person he’d yelled at, the one that had run after him for days, trying to take care of Taehyung’s basic needs when he was old enough to take responsibility himself. For someone who didn’t give a shit about Taehyung anymore.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, hyung.” He said again, gave him a half bow. “I have snacks in my room. Can I eat that instead?”

Seokjin’s frown twitched, though he seemed to have more pity than Taehyung deserved.

“I promise I’ll have breakfast with you.” Please don’t make me stay here. Please don’t make me eat that.

Seokjin sighed in defeat, and Taehyung readily took it as a permission to slip past, but his hand landed on Taehyung’s shoulder. “Taehyung-ie, -”

“Don’t.” Taehyung barely prevented another break in his quiet voice. “Please.”

The hand slid down, but not before giving his arm another firm, grounding squeeze.

Taehyung fled out. In the hallway, he was greeted by a thunderous Jimin about to storm in, but stopping him wasn’t difficult.

All it needed was the broken whisper already on his tongue. “Jimin-ah...”

Leaning against Jimin’s shoulder in the room so much more spacious than Taehyung’s, though technically the same size, it came easy to pretend it was just the two of them in this world.

Three, including Jimin’s niece rattling about her meeting with dinosaurs, her awareness that it had been a dream only returning occasionally. Four, including his sister reprimanding her in the background, because apparently she was jumping on furniture while talking on the phone.

Jimin had pulled him into his room and continued the phone call with his sister he’d interrupted at commotion in the kitchen.

Taehyung hadn’t listened much, just letting his mind drift in the safety under Jimin’s arm, but the excitement of the four-year-old he’d only seen in photos was capturing. He didn’t fight the smile that made its way on his face as she rambled about huge wings and terrifying teeth with nothing but adoration in her voice.

“Were you scared when you saw its teeth?”

Taehyung almost snorted. What a stupid question for a kid that sounded like it had the best night of his life, but that was Jimin for you.

“No. But the wings were blue, and they were glittering, like the crayons that eomma bought me.”

Jimin sensed Taehyung’s mocking smile immediately, of course, nudged him with the challenge to do better.

“How many heads did it have?”

She giggled, not having noticed Taehyung’s deeper voice yet. “Sooo many. And they were all a different colour. Eleven, because that’s how many colours eomma bought me. It was twelve, but one rolled under my bed. One head looked like a mouse, and the other like a dog, and the other like a sheep, and the other like a fish, and the other like a cat – and another one, but I forgot.”

“And which one was the prettiest?”

“Uh, Uncle Jimin? Your voice changed.”

“Oh, that’s my friend, Hyejin-ie, Uncle Taehyung.”

“Hi, Hyejin. Nice to meet you.”

The line went silent for a couple seconds, before her voice echoed way further than before. “Eommaaa, can I talk to Uncle Jimin’s frieeend?”

“Yes, you can, baby, but please don’t yell. I’m right here.”

Taehyung felt Jimin laugh next to him, even as he whispered, “My sister’s trying to teach stranger-danger, because she keeps talking to everyone on the street.”

“Okaay,” Hyejin answered with the same volume, before returning to the line. “Hi, Uncle Taehyung. Are you a dancer, too?”

“Yes. Even better than your uncle.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Of course not!” Jimin threw in indignantly.

“Oh. Uncle Taehyung, if you lie, you’re a bad boy.”

Taehyung laughed despite himself. “How do you know I’m lying?”

“Because Uncle Jimin already knows not to lie. And he’s not a bad boy.”

“Yeah, you tell him, Hyejin-ie.”

“What do I tell him, Uncle Jimin?”

Jimin laughed again. “Anything you want, princess.”

And she started telling the same dream in a drastically different version from scratch, and, in all her graveness, didn’t allow the smile in Taehyung’s face to disappear. Even when she was called to bed and sent hugs and kisses (with explicit permission from her mother) through the phone, even after she hung up, the air fill his lungs with ease.

He lent his head against Jimin’s shoulder, waiting for Jimin to pull up something else to distract him. Maybe a video, maybe a book, maybe a new pen he’d bought…

But Jimin sighed and nestled back.

Oh no. “I don’t want to talk.”

“But I do.”

Taehyung shrugged. Jimin could do the talking alone.

“He’s being unfair, you know that, right? He has no right to act like this.”

Yeah. That’s what it felt like to Taehyung, too, at least a little bit. But it was Namjoon. Kind Namjoon, supportive Namjoon, smart Namjoon. And Namjoon had saved his career a couple days ago.

“It’s not fair. He should either tell us what the heck’s wrong, or get his shit together.”

Taehyung tensed. He didn’t like to hear anyone talk about Namjoon like that. And he liked less to be the reason for it.

“I’ll talk to Yoongi and Seokjin-hyung about it.” Not Hoseok. Because he wasn’t talking to Taehyung either. “Maybe call a group meeting or something. We can’t –”

“Don’t.”

“Taehyung, he can’t keep doing this. We’re a team, right? He –”

“It’s going to make it worse. Please, don’t do it.”

Jimin pulled back, and Taehyung looked up into a pair of rebellious eyes. “How? How is it going to get worse?”

Taehyung hated, hated, hated it, but he couldn’t change his first thought. He could send me away.

Namjoon wouldn’t, he knew that.

But he wouldn’t be able to explain it. Instead, he whispered. “He hates me.”

Jimin’s face fell. “No, he doesn’t.”

Taehyung shook his head, looked forward again. “He does. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Taehyung, he doesn’t hate you.”

Taehyung pulled away as Jimin tried to make him turn, but Jimin didn’t give up until they were sitting, and their eyes met.

“He doesn’t. I promise he doesn’t.”

“You didn’t see him –”

But Jimin didn’t let go. “No. You didn’t see him. You don’t see how he looks at you when you’re looking away. And you don’t see what he looks like when you’re not there. Believe me, it’s something else. There’s something else, and he acts like a dick, like he never has before, and it makes me want to punch him. But I don’t, because there’s something else and he looks like he’s in pain and it makes me want to hug him.” Jimin stopped the words that flowed out of his mouth, unsure if he’d already said too much.

Taehyung frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin huffed, drawing his legs closer to sit up. “I don’t know, and I’m too scared to ask because he’s being stubborn and it’s you he’s being an ass to, so I know it’s going to be a fight and you don’t want there to be a fight, so I’m not asking. But there has to be something else. Maybe something happened during the talks after…”

Taehyung turned to his feet again, lowering himself even more until he was leaning on his elbow. He knew there were things he didn’t know, something that Hoseok found out after he’d left that day. But… “He never asked me.”

“Asked you what?”

“What happened with Pan Jungdae. He doesn’t know why I punched him.” Taehyung took a deep breath. He didn’t know if he was being dumb. If he was running from the solution to his problem. “I don’t want to ask him. Because I trust him to handle it, right? It would feel like I’m questioning him.”

Jimin was frowning at him, lips pressed in a thin line.

“You think it’s stupid.”

Jimin nodded. “If it’s making him act like an ass, you have a right to know.”

Taehyung sighed. He didn’t really care about who had a right for what. It hadn’t mattered before. All of them had a tendency to give too much anyway, and they had made it work until now. Taehyung didn’t want to demand something from Namjoon for the first time, not when he couldn’t gauge the reaction. Not now.

“I don’t want to make it worse. He’s already not talking to me.” He laid down fully, now looking up at Jimin next to him.

“I could ask him, if you want me to. I’ll try not to turn it into a fight. It’ll be quick, like a hit and run.” Jimin’s mouth curled up, but the hesitancy was still lingering.

Taehyung shook his head. “It’ll make it worse.”

Jimin sighed, but finally accepted the end of the conversation as Taehyung made himself comfortable on the pillow. He moved to lie down, too, but stopped midtrack. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

Taehyung groaned. He’d promised Seokjin. And Jimin had heard it. And he wouldn’t let it go. Taehyung was not getting out of this one. But he was tired.

“I’ll bring you the snacks. Where are they?”

Taehyung huffed.

“Come on, Taetae, you didn’t eat anything today, and yesterday-”

Taehyung interrupted Jimin’s whining with rolling eyes. “Under my desk.”

But as Jimin made a move, he remembered. “I think I hid it away. Look under my bed. And maybe between the jackets in the corner…”

Jimin chuckled. “How am I going to convince you that order makes life easier, Taehyung-ie?”

Taehyung smiled at him. “By bringing order into my life.”

Jimin gave him a kick as he climbed down the bed. “Yah, I’m not your maid.”

“You are bringing me food.” Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows, and rolled away as Jimin pulled the pillow from under him and threw it against his face.

He listened to Jimin’s steps entering his room, and took the chance to actually check in with his stomach. Yeah, he was hungry. Technically. He should eat, and his small smoothie a couple hours ago didn’t replace a proper meal. But he didn’t want to eat. Anything that came to his mind just felt weird, like a wrong beat to a song, or wearing contradicting outfits, or … like watching Namjoon try to cook…

A low knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Taehyung raised his head, but before he could call anyone in, he heard a hesitant voice.

“Jimin?” Namjoon.

Taehyung’s heart spiked again, scenarios for another fight seizing his muscles like claws, but - he forced his body to relax. He was facing away from the door anyway. If Namjoon entered, he would think that Taehyung was asleep, and leave him alone. (He probably would do the same if Taehyung was awake, too, but then Taehyung would have to watch him do that.)

Another knock.

Just leave, hyung. Please just leave.

An almost silent clink, and a cool draught on Taehyung’s back.

“Jimin? Uhm- Do you have a m-”

His voice cut off like a muted TV.

Taehyung forced himself to breathe softly. Just a couple seconds, and Namjoon would be gone-

But the door didn’t close. And there was no noise of feet receding.

Instead, a sigh entered the room, heavy like mountains, the weight uncomfortable on Taehyung’s back. Namjoon’s eyes rested on him, only adding to the weight. He almost turned around then, almost started yelling at Namjoon, because it wasn’t fair that Namjoon could find Taehyung any time he wanted, could look at him without any anger, like Taehyung knew he was doing right now. It wasn’t fair that Taehyung was not allowed to see that anymore.

Go away.

A quiet murmur crept in, like a quiet chirp of a bird he couldn’t prove was real, and the door closed after that. But it echoed in his head.

I’m sorry.

The dampness of the pillow soon pressed against his face.

Of all the places he’d spaced out at, behind the door to the kitchen where Namjoon was talking to Jimin and Jungkook just had to be the most pathetic one. Especially as he didn’t realise the members looming behind him until a voice shot him out of his trance. “Spying at doors, now, huh?”

Taehyung jumped with a gasp as he turned around to face Yoongi, a friendly smile on the rapper’s face, but his eyes immediately slid over to Hoseok, who had returned to his cold frown. Once again, a voice bounced off the walls in his brain, the sudden silence in the kitchen only amplifying the threat.

“Sorry, hyung,” he stammered, mouth dry. Yoongi’s smile fell, but before he could say anything, Taehyung quickly tried to continue, “I just-” His eyes fell on the mug in his hand. He’d wanted to make some tea – but he couldn’t enter the kitchen now, right? “I wanted to return my mug –” Shit, then he would have to enter the kitchen, too, stupid, “Maybe you could- for me?” Wait, would that be rude? Yoongi was already looking down at the clean mug with an unused teabag, shit, he couldn’t give Yoongi that, “Never mind. I’ll just – later.” He gulped. “Have a good night,” he said, finally shutting his mouth. He gave a shaky smile to a perplexed Yoongi, a quick nod too timid for eye contact for Hoseok, and slipped right past them. Four big strides, and he was already in the solitude of his room, closing his door just in time to cut off Yoongi’s furious and not quiet at all voice. “Well, are you happy? Because this, is your fault –”

Patience. Trust.

Angry steps passing his door.

Next morning, Taehyung didn’t bother finding an excuse. He just left. The park was almost deserted during sunrise.

Chapter Text

They were busy, the dance had to be ready for the shootings in the upcoming weeks, Hoseok was stressed. He didn’t make Taehyung repeat again, torturing them as a group instead. But it wasn’t enough.

So, when Taehyung had excused himself from lunch and decided to stay and practice on his own, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

It appeared to be, though, as Hoseok re-entered the studio right when Taehyung was making a difficult jump. “What are you still doing here – Ouch.”

Taehyung looked up, once again breathless, this time clutching his left ankle, although the pain hadn’t registered yet. It was going to get worse.

Hoseok’s eyes were focused on his ankle, too. “That looked bad.” It wasn’t close to the usual Hoseok, the one that would immediately approach with a worried smile and a stupid joke. But it wasn’t hostile either.

Taehyung wished he could welcome it instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I think I twisted it,” he muttered instead, a hiss slipping out as a sting spiked from a simple twitch.

“Why are you still here?” Hoseok came closer, crouched down, reaching for the ankle slowly, like asking for permission.

Taehyung pulled his own hands away, carefully extending his leg. “You said we had to get the timing down by tomorrow.”

Hoseok gave him a short look before starting to touch down the ankle softly. “I specifically said that while you were taking a break. Your part was alright.”

Taehyung watch Hoseok’s fingers tentatively check every angle with utmost care, like he didn’t hate Taehyung. Like he genuinely wanted to ease his pain.

He had never doubted it before. It had been a given that both Hoseok and Namjoon would always be around, always stand by his side, no matter what happened. That he couldn’t mess up enough to lose that.

He didn’t remember the moment that belief had started to shake.

A sharp pain flared up again, and Hoseok grimaced as if it was his own.

No. Taehyung shouldn’t think like that. Namjoon had protected him from the mess of Taehyung’s own mistake, something that could have undone years of work, could have haunted him for years. He’d sheltered him from everything that could have come from that, sheltered all of them. They were still on Taehyung’s side. Just angry. And hated him. A little. More than Taehyung could understand.

Hoseok was looking at him expectantly.

Uh-oh. He’d spaced out. “Huh?”

Hoseok rolled his eyes as he gently lowered his foot to the ground before he stood up. He didn’t look back as he turned towards the door.

He was leaving, Taehyung had missed the one time Hoseok had tried to talk to him, Namjoon’s voice echoed again – “Hyung?”

Hoseok made a dismissive waving motion without looking back. “You need an ice pack.”

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off as Hoseok bent towards the first aid box by the door. And returned with it. He is coming back, Taehyung thought with inexplicable awe. And Hoseok did come back, he knelt again, and held the ice pack against Taehyung’s ankle, paying attention to each of Taehyung’s reactions –

Taehyung felt stupid. So incredibly stupid. He’d thought – he’d felt like – “I thought you hate me.” They weren’t intentional, but those were the words that escaped his mouth like a whisper supposed to go unheard.

Hoseok’s hand faltered in the motion, but he answered without meeting his eyes. “I don’t hate you, Taehyung.”

“Did… did Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung - what did they tell you?” That was much closer to what Taehyung wanted to ask. What had happened, after Hoseok had promised he’d help Taehyung apologize? What had made Taehyung unbearable for Hoseok and Namjoon while Yoongi didn’t seem affected at all?

“What do you mean, what did they tell me?” Hoseok asked defensively, accusing, like Taehyung had called anyone a liar.

“You knew what happened,” Taehyung answered, his voice small. He remembered, the scale of his actions had slowly dawned on him as he was ushered into the van where the rest had already been waiting for him, he’d realized what he’d done as the blood on his knuckles had started to dry. He remembered the sparse leftovers of the hyung line, Seokjin and Hoseok, calming him down while urging him to tell them. And he had. He had been ashamed, and he’d skipped most of the dialogue, but he distinctly remembered saying, ‘I might have broken his nose,’ and he remembered Hoseok freezing, only to hug him immediately after, promising they would figure it out. “You already knew, and you’d promised to help. You promised.” He sounded like a petty child, but his despair to be heard might have been the same, too.

“I know.” Hoseok whispered, changing the position of the pack.

“You said you’d help me apologize, but you didn’t. You made it harder. And still, nothing’s okay. He’s not even looking at me.”

Hoseok took a deep breath and pulled the pack away, the soft ghost of his fingertips still on Taehyung’s numb ankle. He fished out a familiar balm out of the box and started applying it with the same care as before. “I know.” He spoke slowly, with many breaks, the words fighting their way up and out. “But I didn’t think… I can’t, Taehyung, not with Namjoon…” He trailed off, then looked up with genuine regret shining in his dim eyes. “I’m sorry, Taehyung. Really.” He was apologizing. For still not helping him.

Taehyung rubbed his blurry eye with his palm.

A flash of panic passed through Hoseok’s face as he saw the wet tracks, but he quickly looked back down.

“Are you going to tell me at least? Whatever it is that your hiding?”

Hoseok stayed silent as he reached for a bandage and raised Taehyung’s ankle into his lap to fixate it.

The fear of breaking the tentative peace in the room by demanding anything almost tied Taehyung’s tongue, and it felt like a stupid loophole for not asking Namjoon directly, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. (He couldn’t trust Namjoon anymore?) If there was a chance he could make things right, he had to take it. “Hyung?”

But even from his position, he could see Hoseok bite his lip. “I can’t,” he whispered after another beat of silence. “It’s not my place – I can’t tell you, Taehyung.” He looked up, a hint of helplessness in his hesitant eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung stared at him. Then breathed out. It came out as a snort. “Great. Terrific.” Back to square one. “What can I do?” The words that everyone but Namjoon had repeated to him at some point sounded mocking in his head. “Give it time. It will be alright.”

Hoseok tensed as he continued to knot the bandage, closing his mouth again.

Taehyung wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted everything to stop.

He couldn’t do any of it. So let himself fall back onto the floor. The movement sent a flare of pain up his body, and he hissed, surprising Hoseok, too.

“Taehyung?”

“I punched a guy in his face,” Taehyung started as he stared at the irregular pattern on the ceiling, “I messed up. I don’t know how big. No one will tell me. My hyungs hate me -”

“No one hates you,” Hoseok interjected.

Taehyung found that Hoseok’s words didn’t mean much, but he didn’t want to argue when the walls of burning ice between them finally started to grow weaker. “My hyungs don’t want to look at me,” he amended, “and all I can do is wait. Because it will be alright at some point. Awesome.”

“But it’s true.”

Taehyung closed his eyes. True or not, it wasn’t what he needed.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung.” Hoseok carefully placed the now tightly wrapped foot onto the ground. “I’m sorry I left you alone after promising I wouldn’t.”

Taehyung didn’t say anything. How much he’d wanted to hear some kind words from Hoseok the past week. Now they only flared up the wounds he’d gathered during that time. Taehyung couldn’t even tell if they were salt or a salve, but a hot burn grew at the corner of his eyes, so he brought up his elbow to cover them.

“Taehyung-ie.” Hoseok’s voice, painfully soft like he was scared of hurting him, only increased the sting. Like an admission that it couldn’t shine the sadness away.

Taehyung sniffed.

A hand touched his head, started moving, gentle pats carding through his hair, brushing his forehead with featherlight fingers, and Taehyung’s sniffs almost loosened into sobs.

“Shhh…”

A particular sentiment channelled into Taehyung’s system, full of… of caring, of warmth, right to the corners Taehyung hadn’t realized had been filled with the creeping, treacherous cold, spreading roots and branches between his bones. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being in harmony with Hoseok, how much he wished Namjoon was beside him, too, right now, or at night, on his chair at his desk when he couldn’t make himself send Taehyung away although his bed was being monopolized for hours, how much he wanted his hyung’s voice to restore the piece. How much he wanted to tell him about the time someone had threatened his brothers and he’d lost control and how he hoped he could become a better person than that.

When his breathing calmed, Hoseok spoke up, his hand still on Taehyung’s head. “Come on, Taehyung-ah. Let’s go home.”

Home. And he sounded like he meant it, too.

But Taehyung couldn’t. He couldn’t go back to the apartment and listen to Jimin trying to cheer him up, Jungkook trying to be normal, he couldn’t look down as his ears trailed every sound that could possibly come from Namjoon so he had enough time to avoid him, he couldn’t look at his plate knowing Seokjin had wished for a peaceful meal - he couldn’t.

He shook his head.

“Come on, Taehyung, you need to get home, rest a little. You’ve been working too much these days. Let’s take care of ourselves, yeah?” His hand stilled on Taehyung’s head at the lack of an answer, the weight increasing softly in an attempt to convince Taehyung. “I’ll help you with your ankle, so you don’t have to step on it. Come on.”

Taehyung swallowed. He didn’t dare raise his voice more than a raspy whisper. “Yoongi-hyung wanted to meet me here later. I’ll come back with him.” A lie. Taehyung had no idea where Yoongi was, or would be later. He hoped Hoseok didn’t, either. He didn’t lift his arm to check his expression.

A couple seconds later, he heard a heavy sigh. “Let me at least bring you up to his room.”

“I’ll be fine, hyung.”

“Come on, Taehyung-ie, I’m not going to just leave –”

“Hyung,” Taehyung interrupted him, not knowing where the courage emerged from, but at the same time… He couldn’t do this anymore. “Thank you for taking care of me. Please leave me alone?” He tried to keep his voice even, to show the gratitude he felt without letting his voice break.

Hoseok breathed in protest and Taehyung braced himself, but no words came. Not until the hand that resting on his head vanished only to land on his leg another second later. “I lost the right to bully you to go home, didn’t I?” The tiny smile in his voice wasn’t enough to brighten the regret behind it. “I’m sorry I have been such a bad hyung, Taehyung-ah. I’ll try to do better from now on.”

Taehyung didn’t have the heart to confirm nor the energy to deny, even as Hoseok’s feet hesitated again by the door.

Chapter Text

Taehyung contemplated ordering food to the studio as he shifted in Hoseok’s armchair he’d bundled up in. After laying in the practice room for an unmeasured amount of time, he’d forced himself up and hobbled to the elevator to reach the floor where the rap-lines studios were on.

Unfortunately, Hoseok’s room was the most sparely decorated and clinical out of the three frequently used personal studios, the most (and only) comfortable piece of furniture the armchair Taehyung had chosen. Yoongi’s studio was Taehyung’s preference, but he didn’t want to risk the chances that the rapper was still working. He hadn’t told anyone he was going to stay at the company tonight yet, knowing they would drag him home if they caught wind of it. He would text Jimin later, when it was too late for someone to reasonably come pick him up. There were still a couple hours for that.

Entering Namjoon’s studio, which was empty and housed a fairly comfortable couch, hadn’t even been an option.

But as he was pondering about his growling stomach’s issue he’d admittedly neglected during the past few days, while being too lazy to fish out the charger to his dead phone, the door unlocked without a warning.

“I thought you wanted to leave at – Taehyung?”

Taehyung flinched back, before a sheepish smile crept on his face. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi frowned as he eyed him suspiciously form the doorway, a hint of a surprised smile mirroring Taehyung’s. “Hi, Taehyung. What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Uhm… drawing,” he said, way too careful to be believable, even as he held up the unidentifiable sketches he’d drawn on sticky notes against his knee. He hoped Yoongi went with it anyway, as he sometimes did when he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a lie or the truth it was hiding.

Yoongi didn’t. Instead, he entered with a sigh. “What happened? Did he say something?”

“No one said anything.”

Yoongi looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Taehyung didn’t want to complain, he didn’t want to pit the members against each other, more than he already had, but… but something about Yoongi asking him, and giving him a second to actually check in with himself… it worked like a soft knock against a mysterious box that woke up the world inside.

It was a painful chaos, confusing and jostling, and the fact that he couldn’t rant to Namjoon about the ruins it was turning his life into made him feel achingly lonely on top of that. The others – they were there, and Taehyung would have gone crazy without them grounding him, reminding him that the world was not spinning faster with the sole goal to throw him off, but they were watching everything unfold with the same helplessness that constricted Taehyung’s chest like a giant coiling snake.

Yoongi – he had tried his best from the very start, despite the whole new work load that Taehyung wasn’t privy to. He’d been busy not only to smooth things out for all of them, but also to protect Taehyung from Namjoon’s wrath, which Taehyung had never thought he would need protection from.

Maybe that was why they were all stuck in this half-paralysis. No one knew how to handle Namjoon being angry and avoidant like this without giving a reason for it. But Yoongi knew. He knew everything there was to know, and he was still on Taehyung’s side.

And Taehyung just wanted someone to be on his side. “It’s just… he doesn’t even talk to me. It’s like he hates to look at me.”

Yoongi’s eyes were soft, and Taehyung welcomed and hated it simultaneously. He cut him off as Yoongi opened his mouth. “I know, patience, and I trust you, but I can’t – I didn’t want him to look at me like that.”

Yoongi sighed before he schooled his expression closer to neutral. He stepped further in, approaching the desk Taehyung had pulled the armchair away from, and looked around with an inspecting face. “Alright, but is this really the best you can do?”

Taehyung let his gaze wander in the neat studio, too.

“I get why you didn’t come to me; you didn’t want me to know you’re here,” Yoongi continued as he lent against the short side of the desk, “but after being rude enough to chase you out of your home, the least Leader-nim could sacrifice is his spare bed, right?”

Taehyung chuckled at Yoongi’s dismissive tone. “I didn’t want to risk another strike.”

“Another strike for what?”

Taehyung froze at the sudden attentiveness. Shit. He’d gotten too comfortable, forgotten that being the object of Yoongi’s care meant each and every detail being analysed. “Nothing. Just… maybe he’d be angry I went in without telling him, and...” he tried, trailing off with a sheepish chuckle and all.

Yoongi squinted, seeing right into his thoughts. “And …?”

Taehyung looked away, trying to keep his tone light. “You know... what he said at breakfast...” He didn’t want to repeat it.

Yoongi blinked. And again. Then very, very carefully, “You thought he might cut you out if you used his bed for the night?”

No. He hadn’t thought that. But Namjoon’s voice had pulsated through his reasoning, had repeated those words that never stayed away for too long. Even now, sitting in the safety of Yoongi’s presence wasn’t enough to keep it away, making his breath stutter before denying it. “No, I didn’t –”

“That idiot.” Yoongi spat out, scowling at the wall, suddenly restless. There was a cocktail of emotions flickering under his frown, deep as valleys and no indication where the storm was heading, letting Taehyung press himself further into the armchair.

Yoongi could be unpredictable at times, and Taehyung wouldn’t be able to stop him if he got into one of his moods without Seokjin to calm him down or Namjoon to keep him in line. “Hyung, nothing happened -”

But Yoongi wasn’t listening. His jaw was working as he pushed himself off the table. “This is going too far. I told him to get his shit together. He has no right-”

But as his eyes fell on Taehyung, he seemed to remember that he wasn’t alone. He took a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair. When he started to talk, his voice was collected, though his eyes were still piercing with the intensity of a flashlight through the darkness. “Taehyung, you have nothing to be scared of.”

Taehyung swallowed, trying to wet his sandpaper mouth. It was stupid. He knew Namjoon wouldn’t, couldn’t kick him out over something stupid like entering his studio, – “Yeah.” – yet his heart was pulsing in his ears at the thought of Yoongi confronting  Namjoon because of Taehyung.

Yoongi studied Taehyung, and Taehyung tried to keep up with the gaze, tried to convince himself. But whatever he saw didn’t seem to be good enough. He took two wide strides and dropped into a crouch, close enough to steady himself on Taehyung’s still folded legs in the chair.

“Kim Taehyung, no one is kicking you out of anywhere.” He stared up, right into his soul, firm enough to clasp Taehyung’s mouth shut. “It’s difficult now, Namjoon and Hob-ie are behaving like jerks, I know. But nothing’s changed. Do you really think something like this can hurt Bangtan?”

It sounded right, Taehyung knew that. He wasn’t stupid. But it didn’t feel like nothing had changed.

Yoongi frowned, and his gaze lost a fraction of its intensity. “Taehyung, if you ever punch another artist, Namjoon might not be able to protect you from the consequences.”

Taehyung took a sharp breath, straightening immediately, shaking his head before he knew it. “I will never do anything like this again. Ever.”

Yoongi relaxed with a huff into a smile. “That’s all we’re asking. That’s all Namjoon said.” He reached for Taehyung’s arm, squeezing it with assurance. “And that’s all he meant. There’s nothing to be scared of.” There were no walls in his eyes, a rare sight of open support in contrast to Yoongi’s usual subtle way of caring for them.

Despite everything, this moment was precious, Taehyung knew that.

Yoongi’s voice dropped almost into a whisper. “He would be devastated if he knew how scared you are.” For a moment, he looked right through Taehyung, a sad frown directed at someone far away.

Taehyung didn’t allow himself to scoff. Namjoon knew. He knew all of them best, or a close second after Seokjin, especially when it came to fears.

Yoongi seemed to hear it anyway, eyes widening in alarm. His hand tightened around Taehyung’s arm, almost scared to lose the hold. “Taehyung, don’t – he’s blind, right now. It’s not an excuse, I’m not saying don’t blame him, but he’s blind. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” His eyes were pleading. “Come on, is that really what you see when you look at him? Someone who wants to get rid of –”

“I can’t see him anymore.” And that was the problem, wasn’t it? “He told me to stay away, he doesn’t look at me, he – I can’t see him anymore. He promised he would always be there, but he’s not here.” His eyes were burning, and he didn’t dare to blink. He didn’t want to cry again.

Yoongi shook his head with a troubled expression. “He is. I swear he is. I’m sorry he’s such a fucking bastard, but I swear every day he marches in here and does his best for you. For us. I swear.”

Taehyung stiffened. “What - I thought he handled it. Didn’t he say…” He trailed off. “You said you handled it.”

Yoongi hesitated. “We are handling it. Both of us, and Hoseok, too. You don’t have to worry–”

Taehyung tried to straighten without making Yoongi let go.

It was still going on. The problems he had caused hadn’t been that easy to solve after all. Maybe that was the reason Namjoon didn’t – “I can help. With anything. Is there anything I can…?”

“There’s no need, Taehyung-ie, it’s mostly just management stuff. I only said it because-”

“But I want to.” Taehyung couldn’t hold back the outburst. “I want to help, I want to do something, I don’t want it to – I don’t want him to hate me anymore! There has to be something. Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“You don’t have to do anything, I told you-”

“Yes, I do!” Taehyung pushed Yoongi’s arm away as he shook his head, trying to gain some space in the armchair he was still folded in. Why didn’t anyone understand? Why couldn’t anyone just tell him how to climb out of the cavernous hole he’d fallen into? “I have to do something, hyung. I want it to stop, I want to go back! I don’t want to sit ducks in my room until King Namjoon comes around! I can’t just wait for forgiveness and whatever I am waiting for – why can’t anyone just talk to me?!” His voice had cracked, again, and tears were on his face, again, and all he got was pitiful looks, again.

Except Yoongi stopped his wrist as Taehyung angrily rubbed at his face. “Hey.”

Taehyung stared at him, unable to stop his lips from shaking while his breath echoed loud in the room, his face raw and wet. He had to look pathetic.

“Hey.” Yoongi repeated sternly. “You don’t have to do shit. And there’s no King anything. There’s just a bastard running around, one that we all love, and right now, he doesn’t deserve anything from you.”

Taehyung groaned. He didn’t get it. Yoongi still didn’t get –

“Hey, don’t look away. I hear you. I know it sucks. I’m sorry I can’t just give you a sheet you can practice all night, or a choreo you have to perform in two days. I know it sucks. I know it’s frustrating. But trust me, there’s nothing for you to –”

Again, with the trust. Again, with patience. He’d learned a lot from his members over the years, he’d grown up, he’d learned to restrain himself when he had to, and to push himself long after he didn’t want to, but it wasn’t infinite. Taehyung was getting sick of hearing the same things over and over again when nothing changed.

Yoongi had trailed off, Taehyung realized belatedly, as the elder let himself fall on his rear. When he looked up, there was only acres of helplessness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Taehyung.” His voice was pained, and almost lost in the small distance between them, ringing a new alarm in Taehyung’s head, pushing Namjoon back for the moment as he tried to understand.

“Hyung? What…”

Yoongi shook his head, low as a willow that had fought for centuries already. “I’m sorry I can’t fix this for you. I’m sorry I can’t protect you from this bullshit.”

“Oh, hyung-ie.” It slipped out as easy as the times he’d asked his hyung for help, had laughed at his quips, had smirked at the poorly disguised actions of heartfelt care. He lowered himself to the floor, barely daring to touch his leg.

For the first time, a stab of guilt jolted through his chest for relying on Yoongi too much, for pushing him into a role he never took voluntarily.

Yoongi wasn’t one to get involved in other members’ fights. He was always there when they needed him, of course, but usually not on the frontlines to solve an issue. Only after years Taehyung had realized that it wasn’t because it didn’t affect him. On the contrary, any discordance threw him quickly off-balance, drained him much more than Namjoon, for example, who treated it as one more problem to solve, or Hoseok, who couldn’t stand down when one of them wasn’t in their best mood (or behaviour), or Taehyung and Seokjin, who wanted everything to be clear and uncomplicated, even if it meant they had a confrontation. Yoongi was like Jungkook, relying on the harmony between the members, observing any conflict with wide eyes and a healthy distance, providing support and unwavering trust in them to handle it, without comment. Feeling that trust had been enough to save Taehyung’s belief in their group more than once.

Now, somehow, he had been pulled into the storm. Not the centre, the eye, where everything stood still and nothing else mattered. Yoongi was right outside of it, where the forces were strongest and most chaotic.

It was tearing him apart.

And it all had started with Taehyung’s stupid punch. Because he hadn’t held back the one time it counted.

Taehyung swallowed as he reached for his words. “It’s okay, hyung. So, what, if I’m a little too impatient? It’s not the end of the world, right? I promise, this is not the beginning of my villain story.” He tried a shaky laugh, hoping to get one out of Yoongi as well.

“You’re hurting, though.” Yoongi answered, only raising his head enough to look at Taehyung. “You’re both in so much pain.”

Taehyung could see it, suddenly. His own pain, right there, in Yoongi’s eyes, like a mirror, but also Namjoon’s, right next to it, just as deep, maybe even deeper. ‘When I want to know what’s going on with you guys, I either ask Seokjin-hyung, or look at Yoongi-hyung. Anything that’s neither in one’s mind nor the other’s eyes is probably not important.’ Suddenly Namjoon’s thrown away comment made infinitely more sense.

“You help, though. You know you do, right?” Taehyung swallowed. “You’re the only one who talks to me, and – and you’re here. I would be sitting here driving myself crazy if not for you.”

Yoongi snorted bitterly. “I’m sitting right here, and you’re still driving yourself crazy.”

Taehyung chuckled, too. “It’s better when you’re here, though. I feel less like a lonely man on earth and more like a whiny brat.”

Of course, Yoongi didn’t miss a beat. “You are a whiny brat.”

“Yeah, and not a lonely man on earth, because you’re here.”

Yoongi laughed again, and Taehyung quickly continued before the tension returned. “Don’t worry, hyung. I’m might not be able to see him, but I can see you. And the others. And maybe he’s really blind, but I’m sure he sees you, too.” Taehyung let out a deep breath, mourning for a second the darkness separating him from the person he wished would be here the most, before pulling himself together. “I think we’re just stuck. All of us. We’re a little stuck, and we can only wiggle in our positions, and it’s frustrating for everyone, and there might be a peaceful solution or a painful explosion in near future. But as long as I don’t end up a permanently lonely man on earth, seeing you is enough for now.”

Yoongi smiled sadly. “You’re not a lonely man on earth, Taehyung-ah. You have six brothers who will find you anywhere you go, even if two are being morons right now.”

No words were enough to describe how much Taehyung wanted that to be true. “You know… One of them apologized, today.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Taehyung nodded. He’d been just as surprised, but a bright spot had appeared on the black canvas, like the first rays of sunshine in the night sky, and suddenly it wasn’t empty anymore. And maybe he was stupid for getting his hopes up for something so small, but… he couldn’t ignore it, right? Especially if it came from Hoseok. Their hope (and remembering Hoseok introducing himself with his wide grin was enough to make Taehyung’s lips twitch), but also their sternest hyung. Namjoon’s most loyal supporter in all team-related issues. If he could come around… And Yoongi was here, as well, right? It had to count for something. “So, maybe there’s still hope for me, huh?”

Maybe there was still hope to go back to before. Maybe the cliff between them, the one Taehyung couldn’t see, couldn’t understand, wasn’t as deep as it felt. (Maybe this uncertainty was the punishment he deserved. How cruel it was.)

A weird smile emerged on Yoongi’s face, small, but full of something akin to wonder.

Taehyung felt blood rush into his face. “What?”

Yoongi continued smiling. “Nothing.” Then he shook his head, took a long breath, and hit his legs with both palms. “Well, now that we know we are ‘just pieces that are stuck somewhere’ or something, why don’t we make us some room?”

Taehyung frowned at the almost insulting attempt to continue his heartfelt metaphor. He expected better from their songwriter and producer. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

Yoongi kicked him softly. “Yaah. It means, what’s the plan for the evening?”

“I’m not going home.” The words escaped him before he knew it, but Yoongi shrugged easily.

“Sure. Let’s set up camp here.”

Taehyung straightened. “I mean, you don’t have to stay, hyung, I can –”

“You’re the boss. You tell me to leave, I’ll leave.” Yoongi said like it wasn’t a big deal, like he meant it, but his smirk was showing he knew exactly how much Taehyung would appreciate his presence.

Taehyung felt his cheeks heat up again.

“By the way, how much sleep did get? You look like Hob-ie when he’s drunk.”

Taehyung hadn’t gotten any, but he was about to retort something about how drunk-Hob-ie looked more awake than regular-Yoongi, as a gigantic growl from Taehyung literally pulled at his insides for several seconds. It wasn’t painful, but a strange sensation kneaded through his body as he tried to understand. He followed Yoongi’s gaze onto his hands that had unconsciously covered his suddenly ravenous stomach. A couple careful seconds passed before he looked up, and his eyes met Yoongi’s wide, blinking ones. Taehyung blinked back.

“Was that-” Yoongi paused, before starting again. “Are you okay?”

“Uhm…” There was still some pain in his ankle, and his stomach was clawing now on his insides. “Yeah, just… I’m kinda hungry? Sorry.”

Yoongi blinked again. Then snorted. Then broke off into laughter.

Taehyung smiled.

Thank God for Yoongi.

Chapter Text

A couple dead-pan stares and the promise of Seokjin’s cooking later, Taehyung had realized the ‘boss’-title didn’t mean too much in the end.

And to be perfectly honest, it was easier to let Yoongi force him to take care of himself than forcing himself. He hadn’t done a very good job at that lately and was way too tired to do it properly now.

“Alright, it’s settled then, right? We’re driving home, picking up our stuff, make ourselves a nice evening at the river.”

“Yup,” Taehyung quipped as he carefully pulled his injured leg into the car. Thankfully, Yoongi hadn’t made much of an issue about it, offering his support but not insisting too much when Taehyung declined, just matching his speed instead. Yoongi was one of his favourite people to be injured around. (Namjoon never insisted, either.)

“Let’s call Hyung so he can pack something for us.”

“My phone’s dead,” Taehyung admitted sheepishly.

Yoongi just shook his head as he pulled the car into traffic, before fumbling with the knobs to his car system, calling Seokjin on the car’s speakers. It went straight to the machine.

He reached again, and before Taehyung knew it, he was calling Namjoon.

Taehyung looked up, the cold stone suddenly reappearing in his achingly empty stomach, but Yoongi didn’t even take his eyes of the busy evening traffic. “Don’t look at me like that. That’s always the order I call.”

Taehyung opened his mouth but was interrupted by Namjoon’s slightly mechanic voice surrounding him earlier than expected.

“Hyung?”

“Yo, Namjoon. Are you home?”

Taehyung pressed himself back, fighting the urge to melt into his seat and vanish. Like Namjoon would be able to sense his presence, and the darkness would return.

“Yeah, are you coming, too? Hyung’s already starting to complain.” His voice was light, already free of the burdens of being a leader, even if only for the evening.

(Taehyung allowed a smile to form on his face, although he knew that voice wasn’t for him.)

“He shouldn’t,” Yoongi answered, just as light. “He knew I was going to be late today.”

Taehyung’s eyes flickered to Yoongi, who was following the traffic around them lazily. He wondered if Yoongi appreciated being addressed by Namjoon that easily, before locking his eyes on Namjoon’s name on the screen again.

“Yeah, he knew about you.”

“What do you mean?”

It took a second for Taehyung to click. Namjoon was talking about Taehyung.

Seokjin had told Taehyung to come home for lunch after interrogating him about his breakfast. He had probably called Taehyung, but his phone had been dead for who knows how many hours now.

“They have been trying to reach Taehyung for hours until they thought of asking us.” His voice was neutral, even as Taehyung’s pulse started to rise, a weird fear at the turn of the conversation, despite Yoongi’s calming words earlier. Namjoon would only get angrier if he knew Taehyung was listening to a private conversation. “Hyung’s pissed you didn’t tell him he was supposed to meet you after practice.”

But Yoongi frowned. “He was?”

Oh no. The rock in his stomach grew. His tongue was dry as he mouthed to Yoongi. Tell him I’m with you.

But Yoongi stayed silent as he flashed Taehyung a short smirk.

Namjoon was silent, too, just for a second, before a short rustle in the background revealed hasty movements. “What do you mean? Isn’t he with you?”

“He said he’d meet me?”

“Yes,” Namjoon said urgently, back to the leader just like that. “He told Hoseok you were waiting for him – he really didn’t come?”

Taehyung gave Yoongi’s arm a quick punch, pointing at the screen. His mess was already deep enough, he didn’t need help with that.

If Namjoon told Seokjin and the others that Taehyung wasn’t with Yoongi, they would be worried. Especially if they had already tried to reach him since the afternoon – They were going to kill him.

His hand reached uselessly for his phone. Either he exposed himself to Namjoon now or he would be at Yoongi’s mercy, who, for all the niceties earlier, didn’t seem very merciful at the moment.

For whatever reason, Yoongi seemed set to play this game through. “He didn’t.”

“Shit.”

Shit indeed. Taehyung threw another begging glance at Yoongi.

“Hyung, where are you now? Can you go back, check the studios and the practice room?”

“There’s traffic. And I’m already halfway home.” Which was a lie. But served with enough defiance to get the message across.

“Hyung.” Namjoon repeated, impatience seeping through his voice. “He’s missing. No one’s heard from him for hours, and he’s not where he said he would be.”

Something in Namjoon’s voice made Taehyung lean back into his seat. The rock in his stomach was still there, still cold and threatening, but…

Namjoon was clearly worried. Genuinely worried, not just the mild annoyance when the business kept him on his feet. Nothing like the cold shoulder Taehyung had received for days now.

He would be devastated if he knew how scared you are.

Yoongi gave Taehyung a look in the corner of his vision. “So, you’ve chased him out. Congratulations, Namjoon, looks like you’ve won,” Yoongi bit back, and Taehyung felt the same waves of anger radiate from him like earlier, when he’d paced in the studio.

This was revenge. On Taehyung’s behalf, but it was Yoongi’s revenge.

Taehyung should give him at least a glare, but he didn’t have the power. He couldn’t do anything. He could just listen to a couple worried words from a voice that he had been yearning to hear for days, like the only sun he’d seen in days.

Namjoon sighed, and the exhaustion felt familiar, like its twin was pressing against Taehyung’s skull. “Hyung, can we please not do this now? We have to find him. As soon as possible. He’s not sleeping enough, and Seokjin-hyung’s convinced he isn’t eating anything either, he keeps saying he’s going to be sick, Jungkook and Jimin are still boycotting me, so I can’t be sure -”

“Boycotting you?” Yoongi snorted, but Taehyung couldn’t tear his eyes from the letters on the display.

It didn’t make sense. At all. How could this be the same person that turned his back when Taehyung entered the room, that just stood up and left, letting Taehyung watch him helplessly? Why?

Namjoon’s irritation was audible. “Yeah, Jungkook just – whatever. It’s frustrating.”

Taehyung didn’t know what Jimin and Jungkook were up to. He couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, not yet. He couldn’t tell how any of this was making him feel. The constant pull and pressure around him confused him too much to understand which was what, and every new information opened another hole his thoughts started to drip from.

“They do have a point.”

“Whatever, hyung. Are you going back, or not?”

Yoongi let out a theatrical sigh as he continued driving straight ahead towards home. “Yeah, fine, I’ll take care of it.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Oh, what a burden for the distant hyung, checking on his dongsaeng he doesn’t care about.”

“I can still come back, Namjoon,” Yoongi threatened.

“You won’t.” A small pause. “Hyung?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you really think…” He trailed off, but before Yoongi could ask, he started again. “Never mind. But if he’s still at the company, tell him that I’m staying out or something. I’ll go back to the studios, I have some stuff anyway. He needs the rest.”

Yoongi bit his lip, finally looking a little guilty for his game. A heavy sigh followed, like he hadn’t taken an easy breath for a long time, either.

Namjoon seemed to hear it, too. “Hyung?”

Yoongi breathed out again. “This has been going on for far too long, Joon-ah.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” Namjoon answered with a pressed voice. “I know you think it’s not enough, but I am trying.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll –”

But what Yoongi had said to end the conversation seemed to be a wound point, because Namjoon’s angry hiss made Yoongi’s hand freeze before he could reach the knob. “You think I don’t, don’t you, hyung? You, and now Hob-ah, too. You think I’m unbothered, I don’t care, I’m too proud like some stupid spoiled brat.”

Taehyung shrank in his seat at the venom in Namjoon’s voice, although it wasn’t directed at him. Or, it was, wasn’t it?

Yoongi’s eyes, suddenly wide, flickered to Taehyung and back. “Namjoon, I -”

“It’s not fair, hyung. I know you warned me, but I’m doing the best I can. Don’t you think I’d like to be able to act like nothing had happened? To forget it? Do you think I like to fight with my members?”

“Namjoon, let’s not -”

But something in Namjoon seemed to have snapped, too. “I’m trying, okay? I’m doing the best I can, but it’s too much. I can’t stand to be in the same room, I can’t stand to see his face, it makes my blood boil every time. I told you, I can’t control -”

Taehyung didn’t move, even after Yoongi disconnected the call in his panic.

I can’t stand to see his face.

It was silent, for one second, two –

“Taehyung-”

Someone honked at them, and Yoongi got the car moving again with a curse –

Taehyung closed his eyes and ignored everything else that followed after that.

No one hates you.

Right.

What a joke.

When the numbness lurking behind his thoughts knocked against his mind, he welcomed it readily. Anything was better than this darkness.

When Taehyung opened his eyes, his head was about to burst. Someone had poured in liquid concrete until full, and then pressed in some more for good measure, and now every square centimetre pulsed like a pressured ball.

At the same time, his mind remained empty. Blank. Grey. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing, what his companion – There had been someone, right? He hadn’t been alone, someone should be -

A soft drum against his ear – no, against the glass his ear was pressing against – Oh.

The window. It was dark. He was in a car. Yoongi’s car. The driver’s seat was empty, the shape of a phone in the barely illuminated seat. Taehyung breathed out. Why was he here?

As he moved his sore muscles – did he train today? Or was it just his sleeping posture? – he realized a cheap piece of paper in his lap, a receipt or something, but with a handwritten note, probably added later. He took it, trying to find an angle with additional light from the outside to read –

He flinched as someone knocked against his window. When he looked up, he saw Namjoon leaning down with a frown.

Taehyung smiled. Maybe Namjoon had been with them earlier? He rolled his window down – oh, wait. A familiar cold spread its fangs once again. He wasn’t talking to Namjoon, right? There was something… Ah, he was avoiding Namjoon. Because Namjoon wasn’t talking to him, either. The darkness that had been absent for five blissful seconds returned with a cloud of a thousand needles as he remembered the phone talk.

Where is Yoongi?

The window stopped a little lower than halfway, enough for Namjoon to lean in until he was almost on Taehyung’s level. “What are you doing here like that? Let’s go upstairs.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened as he looked around. The buildings were familiar – they were across the dorms. His insides clenched, he was pretty sure he’d decided not to go up. Yoongi had agreed, right?

His eyes fell on the receipt again. After the remnants of sleep had been blinked away, it was much easier to read.

Back in 5 minutes. Stay where you are. Yoongi

Taehyung let out a small sigh. Instructions. Good. 

But Namjoon was still waiting.

He opened his mouth. It felt like sandpaper. He coughed slightly, trying to control his voice.

Namjoon’s frown deepened.

“I can’t,” he finally said, not looking up. “We’re going out with Yoongi-hyung.” He held up the note.

“I’m sure he’ll understand if he sees you sleeping like this.”

“Nah, I want to live,” Taehyung attempted a humourless joke, his eyes fixed on the illuminated intersection at the end of the road.

Namjoon sighed. “Where are you going?” He asked, almost conversationally.

Taehyung frowned. He wondered if Namjoon was looking at him, but didn’t turn his head to see. “Why are you here, hyung?”

“What?”

Taehyung wondered if he had really not heard the admittedly quiet words or was just surprised at the straightforward question.

So many useless things to wonder about.

“Didn’t Yoongi-hyung tell you that he found me?” Yoongi had a strange system of what he told whom these days. It hadn’t made sense earlier, and no way Taehyung was touching that with his only half-speed working brain right now.

“He did,” Namjoon answered carefully. “I just… wanted to make sure everything is alright.”

Taehyung almost laughed. He had to be looking miserable, if even the bad grumpy Namjoon was worried. He kind of felt it, too. His head was still pounding, and he knew the pain in his torso was the last cries for mercy from his stomach.

But he didn’t need special attention from their busy leader. “Everything’s fine,” he said, keeping his tone light. “You can go back. Wouldn’t want to make your blood boil, right?” Whoops. Maybe his mind wasn’t as clear as he thought.

There was a sharp intake of breath next to Taehyung. Now, Namjoon was definitely looking at him.

A small pause, barely long enough for Taehyung to wish Yoongi would come back, before –

“Did… Did Yoongi say that -” His voice was incredulous, and Taehyung would have loved to have the energy and motivation to face him right now. “Wait – that’s why you’re back already - You were in the car the whole time!”

Taehyung froze. Right. He had been scared of Namjoon finding out. His head was definitely fuzzy.

“Why did you - why would he do that? I wouldn’t have – Why didn’t you say anything?”

It was a question, and Namjoon was expecting an answer, but somehow Taehyung felt too detached from the conversation. He had no choice, however, when Namjoon insisted. “Taehyung, I didn’t mean it like that – Look at me!”

Taehyung shrugged, lowering his head into his lap instead. “It’s okay, hyung, you’re right. I shouldn’t have listened, and it’s not like I don’t deserve what you said.”

“No,” Namjoon urged, and Taehyung really didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like it had been new information, Taehyung had just been naïve enough to ignore it. “I wouldn’t have – I didn’t mean it, Taehyung, not like that.”

Taehyung supressed a sigh. “Yeah. Right.” Where was Yoongi?

“Taehyung, please look at me?”

Taehyung didn’t want to, but this was the longest Namjoon had talked to him in days, and he was trying… or maybe Taehyung just wasn’t as good at ignoring him as the other way around. So, he did.

Namjoon’s eyes were pleading, sleepless nights having left deep traces around them. They widened, surprised that Taehyung had listened to him so easily, but he didn’t look away.

Taehyung swallowed as his eyes flickered from one eye to the other, taking in the familiar colours he hadn’t seen in days, waiting for something to happen, because he still didn’t believe Namjoon, but the anger had yet to came, and maybe Taehyung was wrong, maybe Namjoon really hadn’t meant it –

A shadow flashed in Namjoon’s eyes, for a second, he saw through Taehyung, saw something else, and suddenly his eyes fled Taehyung’s, he was looking away to the side, like he’d been stung. Then he realized it, too, snapping back like a rubber band, almost in panic.

And Taehyung – Taehyung started laughing. Just one snort at first, then a chuckle, turning back to the front, looking at the street. Uncontrollable chuckles were climbing up his throat, and he tried to keep it together, tried to keep it in, pressing his lips together, but it didn’t work.

“Taehyung-”

Taehyung laughed again, trying to talk between breaths, “Sorry, hyung, it’s not funny, I’m sorry -” But it was, and another set of laughter made him shake.

Suddenly, Namjoon’s face vanished, only his words reaching Taehyung. “Why would you fucking do that?”

His laughter slowed down to silent chuckles. That was a weird turn of conversation. Why would Taehyung laugh? Was Namjoon even still talking to Taehyung? It didn’t make sense, but no one was making sense anyway. Not Namjoon, not Hoseok, not even Jungkook and Jimin, who were boycotting Namjoon, whatever that meant.

He giggled again. Namjoon was cussing, and Taehyung didn’t know if he meant Taehyung or not. What a weird day.

The door to the driver’s side opened, Yoongi bending down breathlessly to take a look at Taehyung. “Hey, sorry, it took-” He did a double take. “What happened?”

Taehyung laughed again. Why did Yoongi look more worried now? “Nothing, Namjoon-hyung was just – he said something really funny, and –”

Something dark flashed behind Yoongi’s eyes, but with him, Taehyung could almost be sure it wasn’t directed at him.

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“What? No, I’m not -” But once he lifted his hands to his face, two wet tracks were still flowing. He tried to dry his face as another fit of laughter climbed up. “I didn’t realize – hyung, you really missed the fun.”

But Yoongi didn’t say anything. He placed a bag on his seat, pulled out Taehyung’s bottle – Taehyung had forgotten it at home this morning – and held it out to Taehyung. “Here. Drink something.” Then he ducked back out and raised his head above the car.

Taehyung could hear Yoongi’s voice snap at Namjoon, who snarled something back in a muffled voice. He could have listened, if he strained his ears, but it was too hard to concentrate, and he really needed that water.

The last remnants of his smile died down as he raised his bottle, the water unexpectedly cold and sweet against his tastebuds. He paused. Someone must have filled it with orange juice, just out the fridge.

Taehyung could forgive Yoongi if this was the reason he’d taken so long. Taehyung loved orange juice.

He drank again, following the cold sensation down his throat, passing by his lungs. He hadn’t realized how erratic his breath had become, but it was slowly matching the weight returning to his muscles.

He was still. So. Tired.

It took them a couple more seconds to check on Taehyung again, enough time to make his headache remind Taehyung of its presence, too. His brain was definitely not working right. His hand moved up automatically to massage his temples.

They both appeared to his sides, a careful expression mirrored on their faces. “How are you feeling?”

Taehyung frowned, but he couldn’t find a reason to lie. “Tired. I have a headache.”

Namjoon threw a pointed look over Taehyung’s head. “You guys should come upstairs, get some rest,” he said softly.

Taehyung’s frown deepened. He couldn’t tell what he wanted. Sleep, water, food, company… But he knew he didn’t want to go into the apartment.

It must have shown on his face.

“Look, Taehyung-ah, if it’s because of me, or what I said, I can really –”

And he didn’t want to listen to Namjoon lying out of guilt. That, he knew, too. He turned to Yoongi. “Hyung, can we go, please?”

Thankfully, Yoongi nodded immediately and slid into his seat, placing the bag with a slight clatter of dishes in the back row.

“Hyung, you can’t- look at him, he needs rest, he’s getting sick -”

For a second, Taehyung worried Yoongi would give in, listen to their leader like all of them do when he was being serious and rational, but –

“It’s up to Taehyung.”

“But he’s being unreasonable -”

“He is right here, and just said he wants to go. So, we will go. Step back -” Before he could finish his sentence, the door behind him opened, and Jimin slid in with a wide smile, pulling the door behind him shut and immediately buckling up while looking at Taehyung.

“I heard we’re going on a trip?” His smile faltered for a millisecond when he took in Taehyung’s expression before returning with full strength.

Yoongi raised his brows. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

Jimin shrugged. “I’m invited anywhere Taehyung is, right, Taetae?”

Taehyung blinked, the corners of his mouth rising involuntarily as he met eyes with Yoongi, who rolled his eyes with a sigh.

Jimin, well knowing he’d won, leaned sideways to greet Namjoon. “Hi, Joonie-hyung. Thank you for greeting my best friend. This is Kim Taehyung, I might have mentioned him once or twice.”

Namjoon glared.

“I’m just saying, in case you’ve forgotten. He’s one of the most loyal, kind-hearted people I know. I don’t understand how anyone could not appreciate it.” The snide had been there before, but now it was shining fully audibly through his voice.

“Jimin,” Taehyung tried to chide, but Jimin was already smiling at him with that genuine force he sometimes had. “I mean it. Anyone who doesn’t see it should be –”

“Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice cut through, accompanied by a stern glance in the back mirror.

“I... I’ll leave you to it, then…” Namjoon patted the half down window awkwardly, his slight frown directed to the ground too quick for Taehyung to catch his previous expression. “Take care of each other.” He looked strangely defeated as he stepped back.

Yoongi took a breath, and Taehyung feared for a second that he would call Namjoon back. But Yoongi’s eyes landed on Taehyung’s, and a complicated bundle of expressions crossed his face before his breath turned into a sigh.

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin called carefully, leaning forward again. “Not to rush or anything, but I told Jungkook to wait for us at the big crossing by the park, and it might start raining in a bit.”

Yoongi blinked, his go-to empty face already in place before saying with a level voice, “You’re the bane of my existence. Every single one of you.” It was a joke, a sentence they had all heard more than once.

But as Yoongi looked into the rearview mirror for the last time after driving off, Taehyung asked himself about how much Yoongi had to hate leaving his best friend at the side of the road.

Chapter Text

Taehyung opened his eyes into the dark skyline of the city. Distant lights were dancing instead of stars, just beneath the usual clouded ceiling of the night.

He shifted in the passenger’s seat, once again in Yoongi’s empty car, the faint taste of Seokjin’s delicious cooking still drugging his stomach like only a well-made meal could.

Taehyung sighed. He’d already felt weird when he woke up here a couple hours ago, after his first nap, but his mind felt even further away now. Not necessarily in a bad way, and his brain was definitely working clearer now, but… he’d switched to another channel, like he was far enough from the apartment that only Yoongi, Jimin and Jungkook were close enough to count as ‘real’. Everything else was locked away, all the memories and words and pain that only tangled up further with each person Taehyung spoke to. Breathing felt easier, for now.

After Jimin’s insistence, and Taehyung’s refusal to admit that he’d rather just end the night quickly, Yoongi had driven them to a deserted riverside path, elevated enough to have a view over the city behind the calm water. Huge, edged rocks were leading the slope downwards into the darkness between them and the rest of the world. Once they’d found a couple suitable rocks to sit on, they had set up the containers of food and slipped into their familiar rhythm of talking, teasing, and laughing like they had never done anything else.

Yoongi had kept complaining that Jungkook and Jimin were stealing their food, but Taehyung suspected that Seokjin had filled the containers with way too much anyway. He didn’t know about the others, but Taehyung had soon felt stuffed after that meal.

Jimin and Taehyung had decided to warm up in the car, Jimin excitedly climbing into Yoongi’s preciously guarded driver’s seat. Taehyung remembered egging on his friend to mess with all the adjustable equipment, the height of the seat, the mirrors, even the position of the steering wheel itself. He remembered Jimin’s eyes lighting up on Taehyung’s suggestions, even as his words went higher and higher over Taehyung’s head. Seeing Jimin, hearing his voice, was enough for the weight to vanish for a couple minutes. Even with Namjoon still in the back of his head, he could breathe, as long as Jimin was here. Taehyung remembered smiling.

Jimin was gone now, but Yoongi’s seat was still annoyingly high, and Taehyung was still pleasantly calm.

Taehyung stirred again, taking in a deep breath that turned into an almost silent yawn as he spotted Yoongi in front of the car. He was sitting on the corner of the hood, eyes trained on the dark irregular line that reflected any light with unpredictable patterns, a bottle of his favourite soda dangling loosely in his hand. The other was holding his phone, tapping and turning it against his thigh. His face was obscured by the dark and the bad angle of the distant light post, but his slouched shoulders radiated an overall air of exhaustion.

Taehyung’s next breath carried heavier through his body, the cool breeze throwing a slight chill over his shoulders once he quietly pulled the door handle. His awkward climb out of the car was clumsy enough to alert Yoongi, but he didn’t move much, following each of Taehyung’s steps watchfully instead.

Taehyung ignored it as he closed the door and inhaled the uncomfortably cold air into his expanding lungs before sauntering next to Yoongi to join him on the front side of the hood, facing the sky and the faint city lights reflected in the pitch darkness of the river below them.

“Rise and shine, sleepy beauty.” A weary smile sneaked into Yoongi’s voice. “How are you feeling?”

Taehyung shrugged, then raised his shoulders against the cold. “I’m fine.” He didn’t think he had slept more than twenty minutes, anyway. He looked over at Yoongi’s hand still playing with his phone. “Who are you expecting to call?”

Yoongi’s hand stilled. “Namjoon. I texted him earlier, but he isn’t answering.”

Oh. That was… not usual. “He is angry?”

Yoongi shrugged with one shoulder. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Taehyung looked down. Yoongi had a point. And Namjoon had sounded angry. (He’d sounded betrayed.) “Why didn’t you tell him?”

A short breath, like he was about to explain – but it was followed by another tired exhale. “Doesn’t matter. It was stupid.”

They fell into an uneasy silence.

Taehyung frowned into the darkness. He had tried to tell Yoongi to end the phone call, but he had been too much of a coward to speak up himself. And he’d been the one to spill the truth to Namjoon later. But as he opened his mouth to apologize, Yoongi started to move with sudden purpose, placing both his phone and the bottle on the hood and peeling of his jacket.

Taehyung frowned. “It’s okay, hyung, I don’t need it.”

“I’m not asking.”

“But I’m not that -”

“You have a fever.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened as he reached for his own forehead. “I do?” It wasn’t particularly hot.

“It went up while you were sleeping. Jimin and Jungkook went to buy some medicine. There’s a seven-eleven not too far from here.” He pushed the jacket into Taehyung’s arms.

Taehyung blinked as he held it. “We could’ve bought it on our way back home.”

“They didn’t want to wake you. Jimin insisted that you were too cute and to be left in peace until you woke up on your own.” He shook his head in annoyance. “And Jungkook wanted to find something to eat.”

It made sense, no matter how impractical a solution it was. Jimin and Seokjin efforts to make sure he got sleep in the past days had mostly been futile. They probably hadn’t wanted to interrupt the precious rest that had come so easily in the car.

Taehyung smiled. He was lucky to have friends who would stay up until sunrise at a riverbank, only to give him a little sleep. “Thank you for taking care of me today, hyung. I – I really do feel better.”

Yoongi blinked with wide eyes, before turning away with a spark in his eyes that only appeared when he tried to hide his fluster. “I didn’t do anything,” he mumbled, then gestured at the jacket still in Taehyung’s lap, “Put it on.”

Taehyung’s smile widened as he complied. He really was lucky.

A small light lit up to Yoongi’s side, bright in the darkness like warning lights. Yoongi reached for his phone hastily, almost knocking over his bottle.

The bright logo of an ad flashed before Yoongi turned it off with a disappointed exhale.

He is tired, Taehyung thought, even louder than before. Yoongi’s love for sleep was well known worldwide by now, but this was different. The slouch in his shoulders, the subtle fumble, the slight uneasiness that didn’t seem to fade…

Taehyung remembered the way Yoongi had crumbled in the studio earlier, and had forced himself up for Taehyung again.

They were wearing him down, bit by bit.

Taehyung sighed. “We are a lot of work, aren’t we, hyung?”

Yoongi twitched, straightened the tiniest bit to hide some of the exhaustion, but his voice was flat. “Yep. Pain in my ass. All of you.”

Taehyung opened his mouth, once again to apologize, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want Yoongi to try to console him again. He remembered a piece of useful advice he’d gotten from Namjoon once. “Thank you for still keeping up with us.”

Yoongi turned to him with a single raised brow in an unfazed expression before his lips twitched into a smile. Once again, he rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t disappear. “You’re lucky you’re cute, even when you say stupid stuff.”

Taehyung smiled back. “I’m cute?” He looked at Yoongi with purposefully wide eyes.

Yoongi’s eyes darted back to him. This time, he couldn’t smother his smile and the faint blush on his cheeks. After a moment, he gave up and threw his arm over Taehyung’s shoulders to pull him to his side. “The cutest,” he breathed out fondly, almost in a whisper.

Taehyung felt his insides warm up, Yoongi’s arm protecting him against the chill with more efficiency than a jacket ever could. He looked up from his position to enjoy Yoongi’s flustered expression. “And Jimin and Jungkook?”

Yoongi shook his head in annoyance, either thinking about how they had invited themselves into his car so spontaneously, or well aware that Taehyung was setting him up. But he answered with the same hidden fondness. “They are cute, too.”

A diplomatic answer. Very smart.

“And Namjoon?” slipped out next. Taehyung regretted it the second he heard his own hesitant voice, but it was already out, he was already looking up, and a drop of exhaustion had already returned to Yoongi’s still soft expression. He looked down at Taehyung. “You’re cuter.” As expected, but it wasn’t what Taehyung had asked.

“But he’s cute enough for you to keep up with him, right?”

Yoongi snorted dismissively as he turned his gaze back to the rocky slope and the water behind it. “Cute enough. Stubborn enough, kind enough.” He took a deep breath before adding with a small voice, “Leader enough.” He returned to Taehyung with a smirk. “I’m not getting rid of any of you, ever, am I? Doomed till eternity.”

This time, Taehyung smiled back before looking down, tracing the reflections on the river. “And you’re still sure he’s not getting rid of me either?”

An instant answer. “Of course.” Like the sun is bright.

“Even after today?”

His voice was even firmer as he affirmed. “Especially after today.”

Taehyung let his body slouch even more against his hyung, longing to feel the same steadiness. “How can you be so sure?”

Yoongi chuckled. “Because you’re you. And Namjoon is Namjoon. You’ll find a way. There’s no other option.”

“You have a lot of faith in us.”

“Everyone has. Hyung keeps saying that ‘this stupid fight will be over in a couple days anyway, but if one of them gets sick, both are doing dishes for all the white hairs I’ll get.’ Like he won’t have them in a couple years anyway.”

Taehyung hummed.

Yoongi squeezed his arm. “Trust us, Taehyung. We know what we’re talking about. It might not feel like that for you, but we can clearly see the end of this. It’s just another mountain to climb, another river to pass, another obstacle life throws at us. We’ve passed them all until now, haven’t we? We just have to keep walking.”

“You’re poetic today, hyung.”

“Pfft. Brat. I’m always poetic.”

Taehyung chuckled, before it turned into a sigh. “Okay, hyung. I trust you.”

Yoongi turned his head, eyeing Taehyung. “That’s why you’re so awesome, Kim Taehyung.” He smiled, even as his eyes grew a wistful shade. “If only Namjoon could trust like that, too.”

Taehyung stiffened slightly, even under the comfort of Yoongi’s arm. “Maybe it’s easier to trust Namjoon than to trust Taehyung.”

“Nope.” He patted against Taehyung’s arm until it relaxed again. “As someone who is trusting both, I’m qualified to say. It’s the same.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, a strange sense of peace lingering around them, despite everything.

True, Namjoon’s voice still echoed in Taehyung’s head. He could still hear those words threatening to finish everything Taehyung had worked for, all of them had worked for. He could still hear him telling him to stay away. And, maybe the worst of all, he could hear the honest outcry, the genuine words that Namjoon couldn’t bear the sight of Taehyung. It was still there.

All of it.

But despite that, it didn’t seem hopeless. Maybe because the worry in Namjoon’s voice had been just as genuine. Maybe because the pain just after he’d realized he’d looked away had been what Taehyung had felt that second, like the tiniest needle that managed to tear through his heart and lungs.

Taehyung sighed again as Yoongi’s words from earlier rang in his head, when the car had been moving, when he’d reprimanded Jimin and Jungkook.

Jimin had snapped back, harsher than Taehyung had expected him to. “What, him acting like Taehyung killed someone is not going too far, but me joking about it is?” It wasn’t a joke, least of all for Jimin, judging from his set jaw and the fire in his eyes.

Yoongi had frowned. “First of all, it’s not a joke if it’s hurting him -”

“He’s hurting Taehyung!”

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Look, Jimin, no one is happy about this situation. Believe me, Namjoon isn’t either. But this isn’t easy for him …”

“So what? You’re on his side now?”

Taehyung blinked, throwing another glance at Jimin’s sullen face in the back seat. Jungkook stayed silent, but his expression not much different.

The members dividing into sides… This was not going into a healthy direction.

Yoongi seemed to have a similar thought. His frown deepened. “You’re turning this into something it’s not.”

“Really? What about Hob-ie suddenly acting like that, too? Or shutting us up when we tried to talk to Namjoon?”

Taehyung gulped. He’d missed a lot since he’d started avoiding the apartment. And no one had told him anything.

Yoongi looked into the back mirror for a second before abruptly taking a right turn into an empty parking space and stopped the car with sharp movements, making Taehyung’s head pound in protest. When he turned in his seat, his eyes were as stern as his voice. “There’s a reason we said not to take sides when the members are fighting all those years ago, guys.”

“Then why aren’t we talking it out?” For the first time, Jimin’s voice had risen into a pitch of frustration. “All the talk about communication and honesty for years, and suddenly he’s not talking, not explaining anything, not even looking at us, just turning around and leaving, like none of it matters when it’s him!” The hurt was evident in his voice, and Taehyung quickly turned away to smother the disappointment in his own heart that flared out in sympathy. He ignored the concerned looks that landed on him.

“I know. I’m not saying he’s right. Believe me, he got an earful from me already, more than once. But you can’t just go around taking sides against him because it takes him some time to get his shit together. That’s not fair. Not when this is the first time he’s struggling like this, not after everything he’s done for us. We owe him that.”

Jimin took a breath to continue, but he already sounded defeated. “But Taehyung -”

“I owe him, too. More than anyone else. Other people get in so much trouble for much less than what I did. We have gotten in trouble for much less.” Taehyung dared a glance in the mirror, catching Jungkook’s stormy eyes.

“You don’t owe him this, though. This is not- it’s-” Jungkook broke off in frustration, because they were still talking about Namjoon, but the glare he was sending the back of Yoongi’s seat in front of him was clearly delivering the sentiment.

“No one’s saying that.” Yoongi said appeasingly, first towards the back row, then turning to Taehyung. “Yes, maybe you owe him most right now, but no one’s saying that you deserve this, or that you should just take it silently.” His stare was intense, like he wanted to transfer all his words and images at once, just to ensure Taehyung understood, but it boiled down to a heartfelt plea he was hesitant to make. “Snap at him all you want. Talk, argue, stay away, yell at him, avoid him, I don’t care, I’ll be there. You don’t have to take anything. But you can’t give up on him, Taehyung.”

Taehyung blinked. He hadn’t… The worst case had always been Namjoon giving up on him. Even the thought of being kicked out, though almost omnipresent in his mind, had only felt like a possible but distant disaster. Much more threatening and real and torturing had been the thought that Namjoon had burned all the bridges.

He had never thought of wiping them out himself. He wasn’t an idiot.

“I’m not giving up on anyone.”

Yoongi had exhaled, like he had really been scared of that. Like Taehyung could have really let go of smart, clumsy Namjoon. Of his stupid friend that spoke to animals and sometimes in riddles and was the happiest when he watched others laugh. The one that behaved like a giant puppy after too many energy drinks and picked his ice cream combination with the same focus he used for his next worldwide hit song. The one that accidentally talked in poems and laughed in songs and still dared to paint Taehyung the mysterious one.

‘Just stay fucking away from me!’

He is hurting.

The voice pitched him back into the moment, into the calm of the nature amidst the busy city, the shelter of three of his friends, with sudden clarity.

Namjoon was suffering. He was in pain, he was scared, right now, if his expressions, his voice were anything to go by, the pain in Yoongi’s eyes, the Hoseok’s hesitancy...

‘I don’t give shit about what he deserved, because he didn’t deserve –’

‘There’s something else.’

‘It’s not my place – I can’t tell you.’

A cold feeling of dread started taking over Taehyung.

All those thoughts about respecting Namjoon, not questioning his methods – he meant it, with every fibre of his being, but Namjoon really hadn’t been okay all this time, had he? And Taehyung hadn’t even asked. Even after Jimin had mentioned it, and Yoongi, too, a couple hours ago.

Namjoon hadn’t been alright, and… Taehyung had ignored it? Hadn’t seen it?

I can’t see him anymore.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? He’d stepped into Namjoon’s shadow, and now he was freaking out because Namjoon was reduced to a black silhouette in front of him.

Maybe it was time to step out.

A bottle nudging against his thigh startled him out of the train of thoughts. Yoongi gave him an inspecting look. “What are you fretting about now?”

Suddenly, Taehyung knew what to do. Looking at Yoongi’s caring eyes, badly concealed behind indifference... Taehyung knew exactly that he could make him do what Hoseok wouldn’t.

“I was wondering…” He started, watching Yoongi carefully. He had to do this the right way if he wanted to find out. If he wanted Yoongi to spill something Namjoon had told him not to. “No one told me what happened, that day.”

It was fascinating, the clearly noticeable moment his words reached Yoongi. His face slowly turned forward, like it was an easy question, but his shoulders hunched, his jaw clenched before he carefully schooled it into his usual expression. Taehyung could almost swear he was smaller now.

But Yoongi’s voice was normal, even, and now that he was watching Yoongi this close, Taehyung realized he’d missed the tension in his hyung this whole time. How much had he missed in Namjoon, while they were avoiding each other for a week?

“Like I said. We handled it. There’s nothing to wonder about.”

“But…” Taehyung paused, careful not to be too demanding, too insistent. “I thought… maybe I could -” He paused again. “If I know what happened, maybe I can thank him better. Apologize better. Maybe he doesn’t believe me because he knows I don’t know what happened. If you could tell me-”

“Don’t.” Yoongi’s eyes were locked somewhere in the darkness, fleeing from Taehyung to nowhere in particular. Taehyung could feel it in the sudden detachment, and in the silent voice. “Please, don’t make me choose between you two.”

Oh no. Taehyung straightened as the helpless voice squeezed his heart, he pulled away to lighten the weight on his hyung, though he didn’t let the arm slide off. “I’m not. I promise, I’m not, hyung.” He put his hand on Yoongi’s thigh. “You don’t have to tell me, I won’t - it’s okay.”

Yoongi exhaled before he turned to Taehyung, still vary.

“I’m not making you choose. There are no sides, remember?”

Yoongi scoffed unsurely at his own words thrown at him.

Taehyung almost felt bad as he started again. Almost. He didn’t want to put Yoongi in an even more difficult situation - But he had to know. “You don’t have to tell me, promise. And there are no sides. I want to help, that’s why I asked. He’s in pain, too, right? That’s what you said. And we’re all stuck, and no one can change anything. Maybe… I thought, if you tell me, maybe I can actually do something. Maybe that will free the pieces, or at least give us some room for action.”

Yoongi frowned, his jaw working.

“But you don’t have to tell, if you don’t want to. If you think it won’t help.” Taehyung looked away, back to the water. Who was he kidding? Taehyung did feel bad, because Yoongi was desperate. He would talk, for Namjoon’s sake if not for Taehyung’s.

It took a couple seconds of silence. But Taehyung was sure. The way Yoongi had looked at Namjoon earlier, had been waiting for a message...

And Yoongi didn’t disappoint. “You know what a formal apology is, right?”

Taehyung frowned as he turned back. “Like, when you do it in public?” But that – that was impossibly still seriously on the table with no one telling Taehyung. Neither Pan Jungdae nor anyone from BigHit would have any interest in going public with any dispute between the artists, right? It might be PR for Jungdae, give him some publicity, but threatening a member of BTS was not going to increase his popularity.

“No, that’s not – A formal apology, Taehyung.” It was the choice of words, the enunciated pronunciation of the ancient word that made Taehyung understand – and go cold. Every other thought about being careful, about Namjoon, was washed away.

“But that doesn’t make any sense – I didn’t go out and punch him for nothing, it’s not –” Bowing, even the thought of a simple apology gave him goosebumps, but bowing – it wasn’t fair – it didn’t make sense, bowing in this scenario –

Taehyung knew he shouldn’t have punched him, and he knew he had to apologise, to Namjoon, to his members, to management if he squinted, because all these people hadn’t done anything to deserve this mess. But bowing was a sign of humbleness, of humility. They were equals – and no one in his right mind could argue that Pan Jungdae was innocent enough to get a bow – he had started it, there had been insults, Taehyung had just gone further first.

Yoongi breathed into the darkness, masking another, deeper thought, and his voice lost volume. “There was a camera in the hall. It recorded everything. Without audio.”

“But -” Taehyung was on his feet suddenly, even as it made him sway before he could train his eyes on Yoongi. “I swear, he threatened – he provoked, hyung, you believe me, right? I didn’t -”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered to him. “Of course I believe you, Taehyung. I know you don’t go around punching people for fun. But it doesn't matter what I believe. That’s what Namjoon meant at breakfast, too, although he messed up the delivery a bit. By the time we met up with Jungdae’s managers, they had already collaged a footage of him talking to you and you punching him for it.”

The fight was leaving Taehyung’s body, his arms heavily clinging to the jacket, relying on it to keep them up, not the other way around. That footage could end his career, if it ever went public. No one would ask what had happened. An idol caught in a violent act, on tape - he wouldn’t have the chance of a recovery. It wouldn’t change anything if Jungdae’s words were the dirtiest insults, the most gruesome threats – Taehyung’s life would be over, and only Taehyung’s. And that of his members, if they didn’t officially kick him out immediately – Either way, they would have to deal with it. Namjoon already was. “And they want me to bow in exchange for the footage?” His own voice sounded distant, as empty as he felt.

Taehyung didn’t allow himself to think about what he would do if it was just him. If it was just his career, his life on the line. Didn’t think about the question if he would lower his head for something he didn’t do, in front of someone who’d insulted people he cared about (No, a quick voice said, it wasn’t just ‘a person he cared about’, it was Namjoon, – and no, Taehyung wouldn’t do it.)

He didn’t let himself think about it, because it wasn’t just him. He was one of seven, and he’d rather die than burn their dreams for his temper and pride.

Even if just imagining made his blood boil. Just thinking about seeing that bastard again, his ugly smirk – and bowing – a formal apology –

He took a deep breath. He would do it. For the others, he could.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi inspected him again, with more concern than Taehyung had seen during the last few hours they’d spent together. Taehyung looked down.

“Does he think I should do it?” His voice was still empty, but he meant it. “If it’s the right thing to do, if Namjoon says I should - I’ll do it.”

When Yoongi didn’t answer, Taehyung raised his head despite the heavy weight Yoongi’s words had slung around it.

Yoongi’s eyes were wide and clear, so much clearer than Taehyung was used to. He was looking at Taehyung, with hesitancy, with pain, with regret.

Oh no. Taehyung’s mind went blank. It had almost been a week. No one had asked him to apologize. Yoongi hadn’t said he had to bow.

No consequences, Namjoon had said. No consequences.

Taehyung tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry, his body freezing cold in the wind. “I have to bow,” he started, scared of the end of his own thoughts. “Right? That’s what this is about. That’s what you meant earlier, what he is ‘still doing for you’, you meant that he is trying to get me out of this apology thing. But I can do it, if he thinks I should, I’ll do it, and it will be over –” He would, he could make it alright, Namjoon wouldn’t have to deal with any of it, the managers, Pan Jungdae. Maybe then he could bear to look at Taehyung again, right?

Taehyung ignored the pounding in his head. He hadn’t realized when it had begun.

“Taehyung…”

“Right?”

Yoongi closed his eyes, sighed, opened them again, with higher guards and less reflections. “Namjoon already did it.”

Taehyung froze. His mind, already blank, was turning on empty gears trying to catch up, but –

Namjoon had apologized. Namjoon had bowed to Pan Jungdae. Namjoon had touched the ground at Jungdae’s feet, because of Taehyung. His rival, his enemy, his bully from training days –

Because of Taehyung.

“Taehyung!”

Yoongi was coming closer. Taehyung stepped back on instinct, almost tripping over the jacket that had slipped off his shoulder. Yoongi stopped.

Taehyung was cold. And hot. And suffocating.

“Why?” He heard his own voice rasp. “I don’t – Why?”

Yoongi looked away, pain in his eyes.

“And no one – why didn’t you stop him?”

“It’s not like he had much of a choice.”

“They told him to do it?!” That bastard, those-

Again, that guilty flicker in Yoongi’s eyes – “They wanted you, at first – but…”

“Then why didn’t you stop him?” Taehyung asked, trying his best to not sound too commanding, too self-righteous, because he was still talking to his hyung, and because it was Namjoon, there had to be an explanation, a reason – “Why did no one pick up the phone and tell me to calm the fuck down and suck it up and go apologize –”

“What difference would it –”

“I would have done it!” Taehyung interrupted, making Yoongi flinch. “I would’ve done it, not him – He wouldn’t have to – I never would’ve asked him …” He trailed off, hissed at another sudden surge of pain in his skull, stepped back as Yoongi reached for him. “Is that… you thought I wouldn’t?” It was like finding a knife in his lungs weeks after it had been placed there, like someone had started to play with it now, twisting it –

It wasn’t just Namjoon. Yoongi, too.

“You thought I would just – that I would throw him under the bus, that I would let him – let all of you out to dry, that I don’t – That’s not why I let him talk in my place!”

“Taehyung, no one -”

“I didn’t trust him so that he would act in my place like that, so that he could just assume – I thought he would just talk, then tell me, I thought he knew me well enough that I didn’t need to be there, I thought he knew me!” His rant was interrupted as he struggled for breath, his lungs heavy like lead, his brain useless like a hot air balloon filled with bees –

Yoongi’s hand on his arm –

“Don’t touch me!”

Yoongi was looking at him with worry, with regret, but Taehyung didn’t want to know what he saw.

“Is that what you think of me? A stupid violent kid, a spoiled egotistical brat? You thought I couldn’t get past my ego to take one for the team? Even less than that, to apologize for my own fucking mistake?”

Yoongi’s hand snatched his arm, pulling him harshly back towards the car. “You’re gonna –”

“I said, don’t touch me!” Taehyung freed his arm with a sharp jerk.

“Fine!” Yoongi snapped back. “You wanna know why he didn’t tell you? Because he didn’t want you to do it. He didn’t want to force you, because he knew you would do it, he didn’t want to make you – I told him to call you, okay? I told him he had no right to decide for you -”

Yoongi’s words only made it worse. “Why didn’t you call me then? Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you tell me until -” Realization dawned, and Taehyung laughed harshly. “That’s what today was, wasn’t it? I thought you were worried – that you wanted to help me – but no, you just felt sorry. You felt bad that you didn’t tell me, you thought ‘let’s let the idiot decide where he’s crying himself to sleep, even if no one tells him why he has fucked up on a colossal level’.”

Yoongi stared back with all the blazing daggers that Taehyung felt. “Are you done?” he hissed, because that’s what Yoongi’s anger was. Cold and quiet.

Taehyung’s was raging.

It was a dangerous combination, Taehyung knew. So, he did what he had done for a week. “Yeah. I’m done.” And he turned, shoving Yoongi out of his path, and walked past the car.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business.” Taehyung called back without turning, even as his lungs hurt.

Harsh steps on the grain started stalking him.

“Taehyung, don’t be stupid -”

Taehyung turned around to a still pissed Yoongi, but he didn’t care. “Why? You want to control that, too? What are you going to tell me now, hyung, huh? Manipulate my next decision? That’s what you’ve been doing all the time, isn’t it? Telling me half of the truth, ‘just give it time, Taehyung, I’m on your side, Taehyung’, then forcing me to listen to the phone call – maybe that was staged, maybe you two thought, ‘let’s drive him crazy for the punch he threw at the jerk’, maybe you guys had fun while I was wracking my brain trying to understand what was going on?”

Yoongi looked taken aback, hurt flashing in the dim light. “That’s not fair.”

Taehyung wasn’t impulsive. There were limits to his patience, and he had learned them like every civilised person, despite what anyone thought. And he had reached those limits now.

He took a deep breath. It didn’t clear his buzzing brain completely, but it had to make do. When he opened his mouth, he didn’t tell Yoongi to fuck off or that he didn’t care about fairness because no one was being fair to him. Instead, he tried to keep his voice calm and steady and as polite as possible as he let his posture stiffen into a formal stand. “It’s probably for the best if I excuse myself now, hyung.” He gave a short, respectful nod, - not the one Namjoon had done for him - turned on his heels and continued his stride.

But he heard a regretful sigh void of anger behind him as an echo of his steps picked up behind him, too. “Taehyung, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave like this.”

Taehyung picked up his pace.

“You are sick, I can’t just let you go off on your own in the middle of the night -”

Taehyung ignored him.

“Come on, Taehyung-ah, I’m not leaving you now to find you in a ditch tomorrow. I promise, I’ll leave you alone once we’re home, or in the studio, or any other safe place, whatever you want -”

Taehyung continued with harsh breaths. Trees were looming on one side, indefinite darkness on the other, and not enough reflection to lighten the path for more than a few meters.

“Taehyung, please be reasonable. You’re angry, you’re right, I get it, but this is just immature.”

Another pound in Taehyung’s head made him flinch. Why couldn’t Yoongi just leave? Why was it too much to ask? Why couldn’t everything just stop adding for a few minutes, hours, days, why did he have to exist without a pause? Why could Namjoon be a dick for a week without anyone doing anything, and Taehyung couldn’t get a break for one fucking minute? Why was everything so loud and quiet and freezing and burning and just too much?

“Taehyung, watch where you’re – that’s enough!”

A strong grip curled around his wrist, sending chills up his spine, almost painful in his body – “Don’t fucking touch me!” and he turned his whole body, yanking his arm, facing Yoongi far closer (too close) than expected as he swayed – as Yoongi swayed, an unnatural clank that was out of place – glass –, another step and suddenly Taehyung’s vision was clearer, wider, aware of the far too close rocky slope – when had he come so close? –  the dark reflections, Yoongi’s leg not landing but slipping, the expression on his face –

Taehyung would never forget the wide, surprised eyes, a tiny mouth, just like when Hoseok had told them about their first nomination for an international award –

and the arms of darkness pulling Yoongi towards the jagged rocks of a cliff.

It was a blur after that again, a painful step on his injured leg, a yell from one of them, fabric at the tip of his fingers – Taehyung pulled with all his might –

The world tilted, he slipped, his foot went into nothing –

A harsh landing on his back –  

Stillness.

No. Wind, faint sounds of water hitting the shore, even fainter hum of the city.

Adrenaline fuelled breaths.

Two of them.

Chapter Text

Taehyung lied on his back, heaving slow breaths even as tiny pebbles dug into his back with every movement of his lungs.

A knee was pressing his flat palm into the ground, hurting him enough to keep him in the present, the heavy weight of a person on top of him that he was endlessly grateful for. He couldn’t bear the thought of that weight vanishing.

His thigh was on the narrow path of grass, his leg already off path and the first gap of the front row of rocks. His body had hit the flat pavement before they could have slid further down towards the rocks.

They both laid there for an endlessly stretched second, then two, then three… until Yoongi peeled himself off with a shiver, crawling away with hurried and sloppy motions, eager to put distance between himself and the cliff, clinging onto Taehyung even after he was behind him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, once he was in a somewhat sitting position as far away as he could get without letting go of Taehyung, his hand curled around the neck of Taehyung’s shirt. His eyes were chained to the line the rocks met the water like hypnotized. “Shit.” He chuckled shakily. “Taehyung, I think you just saved my life.”

Taehyung didn’t dare to move, let alone speak. Still scared.

His leg was still dangling down the void.

“You’re okay, right?” Yoongi tugged at Taehyung’s shoulder. “You’re too close. Get away, come on.” His voice was unstable in the wind.

Taehyung craned his head into an uncomfortable position to look at Yoongi’s face. The childlike expression was gone.

He was fine. Yoongi was fine.

Taehyung’s hands burned with phantom sensations, the pebbles on the ground, Yoongi’s grip on his wrist, a soft fabric ripping at some point where Taehyung had anchored his hand in –

He scrambled up, ignoring the pressed ‘be careful’ and tug on his neckline by Yoongi, looking at the rocks. Earlier, they had barely found a couple that were big and even and safe enough to sit on, but here – they seemed like spikes, like thorns of the earth growing against enemies, sharp and lurking in the dark, none of them looked forgiving if a head landed on them, or a spine, or –

He would have died.

Yoongi would have died before he even reached the water.

Taehyung had almost killed him.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung flinched away from Yoongi’s careful hand, looking at his hyung again. Moving, talking, breathing. He was fine.

“Are you hurt?” Yoongi was frowning again, the traces of shock already starting to bleed out and making place for worry.

Taehyung shook his head. “You –”

Yoongi mistook Taehyung’s broken voice for a question. “I’m fine, I fell on you.” He turned back forward and chuckled at the sight of the rocks. “Damn, Taehyung, those look painful. I owe you one. Like, my life. Or a drink or some bullshit.”

Yoongi seemed calm, or more composed than just seconds ago, but Taehyung’s heartbeat was picking up again.

“I just –”

Yoongi heard it, this time. His eyes found Taehyung once again, sharp and observing. He looked like he wanted to skid closer to hear him better, but closer to Taehyung meant closer the water. He tugged at Taehyung again.

“You would’ve – you could’ve died.”

Yoongi followed Taehyung’s gaze to the rocks and back. “Yeah,” he said, focus still on Taehyung. “It definitely would’ve been bad.”

“I almost killed you.” Taehyung breathed out, and Yoongi’s frown deepened in confusion, his grip tightening.

“What?”

Taehyung continued with his heart beating in his head. “I almost – you just wanted to help, but I – I shoved you.” He tried to breathe in, met Yoongi’s eyes, tried again. “I shoved you, you almost died -”

Yoongi frowned. “What are you – That’s not what happened, Taehyung, I just fell, I slipped -”

Taehyung shook his head, tears running over his burning cheeks, leaving cold tracks, his breath skipping. “I – I shoved you – I almost killed you -” Namjoon, too, it was his fault, Taehyung’s -

Two hands on Taehyung’s shoulders. “No, Taehyung, you didn’t, I just slipped -”

Taehyung raised his hands, like he would find the evidence on them. His right wrist had faint red traces, because he had violently wrenched it out of Yoongi’s hold, his left hand… Had he shoved him? When he’d turned, had he pushed against Yoongi’s chest? He couldn’t remember, couldn’t be sure, but –

“Taehyung, look at me!” Yoongi snapped. “Listen. You didn’t shove me, I swear. There was something on the ground, I think, maybe a bottle -”, he looked around for a second, like he really hoped to find something, before catching Taehyung’s eyes again, without letting them go this time, “There was something on the ground. Even if there wasn’t, it was an accident, I know that. You wouldn’t push me, and you would never push me down anywhere. So, calm down.”

But Taehyung couldn’t, he was trying to breathe, but his head kept rocking back further with every try he didn’t succeed –

“Taehyung. You need to calm down.”

There wasn’t enough air, he couldn’t breathe, his body was spasming –

“Taehyung-ah, please, listen –”

His hands were in Yoongi’s, shaking like they were trying to escape, he was half sobbing, half wheezing, half fighting for his life – Yoongi’s other hand was in his face, on his forehead – something about fever – his cheeks, shoulder – saying words Taehyung couldn’t hear, fear in his face, even worse than earlier, worse even than the moment Taehyung had almost killed him –

Suddenly, Taehyung was in a crushing hug, one that pressed out the last bit of stale air bouncing in his body, Yoongi’s voice by his ear. “You’ve got to breathe, Taehyung-ah. One. Two…,” and he breathed in, relaxing his grip on Taehyung, Taehyung’s lungs following on instinct, squeezing him again as he exhaled. Taehyung couldn’t quite follow, but he was trapped in Yoongi’s rhythm, feeling every breath like it was his own. He fought to keep up, he latched onto Yoongi’s saving rise and fall of shoulders, tried to match it –

But as soon as oxygen started reaching his brain, the thoughts came back, too, chasing him like racehorses, “It’s my fault,” he almost couldn’t hear himself, but Yoongi did, because he was right here, like he’d been all this time, despite everything Taehyung had done and said, “My fault you almost – and Namjoon-hyung, too, it’s my fault – I keep hurting –”

Yoongi drew back, only enough to see his face, his voice collected, despite the hidden panic in his eyes. “Kim Taehyung, you listen to me.” His hand slid up to Taehyung’s neck, like he was looking for a pulse, but he kept the rhythm of their breaths, applying the slightest pressure when Taehyung exhaled. “You’re breathing, right now, and nothing else matters. Okay? Nothing. Just breathe.”

Taehyung nodded, because it was easy, listening to Yoongi, to any of his hyungs when he was scared and couldn’t think straight. He inhaled, he faltered, and he tried again, because Yoongi was still looking at him, still showing him how to breathe.

“Good. Very good. You’re doing amazing, Taehyung-ah.”

Yoongi looked around, one hand letting go of Taehyung to reach for the ground, but Taehyung didn’t dare look away from Yoongi’s pale face in the faint light. Even as Yoongi found something and pressed it against his leg, meeting Taehyung’s eyes again. “You can feel it, right?”

Taehyung nodded. It was a pebble or something, pressing through his pants against his leg. Taehyung could feel it turn, change the shape it left on his leg.

Yoongi raised his hand, repositioned it. “Where is it now?”

“My arm.” His voice was shaking, but he didn’t have the energy to be scared by it.

Yoongi smiled gratefully, though it didn’t go quite up his eyes yet. He moved it again.

And they played the game a couple more times, Taehyung trying to follow the pressure on his skin although he could see Yoongi’s hand moving around. And Yoongi didn’t stop being silly for him, in the middle of the night, at a dark riverside, although he’d almost fallen to his death a couple minutes ago.

Taehyung’s breaths slowed, and his heart moved down from his ears to its original place, but all it left was a dark fog in his mind. He could close his eyes, and not wake up for a week. The last strings in his body were cut as he slowly dared to release the rigid tension in his muscles, and he sagged against Yoongi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

Yoongi stiffened at the sudden weight, drawing his hand back from the lower calf he’d been trying to reach with the stupid rock, but steadied Taehyung with his arm. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Taehyung opened his mouth but was shushed immediately.

“Don’t you dare undo my work now, Taehyung, I’m not drawing pictures on your back again.”

Taehyung huffed as his eyes dropped. Yoongi totally would. But Taehyung was too tired to panic. “Everything’s down, hyung. All the pieces… I – I don’t know anything anymore.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung. You don’t have to know anything now.” Yoongi sighed as his arm curled around Taehyung again. “I don’t know if you can feel it, but you’re very sick right now. Your fever’s gotten worse. Everything seems worse than it actually is.” It wasn’t as assuring as he normally was, and he could be trying to convince Taehyung or himself, but Taehyung didn’t have the brainpower to question it, so he nodded.

His body was dead. Like it had short-circuited, and smoke was fuming out. It already had been when he’d stomped away, and Yoongi had realized it. He’d tried to tell Taehyung, that he was sick and needed to go home – And he’d almost died for it.

Taehyung was so stupid. “Hyung?” He asked, swearing to himself that he would listen to Yoongi this time.

“Yeah?”

“What… what now?”

Yoongi shifted, tilted his head enough to look Taehyung in the eyes, stroking back his hair with one hand. Taehyung could feel pearls of sweat smear along with it. “What do you mean?”

Taehyung sighed. He wanted to sleep. “What do I do? Namjoon-hyung – I don’t know if I can–”

Yoongi shushed him once more, running his hand through Taehyung’s hair again. “I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do: We’re going to the studio now. I’ll free your schedule for tomorrow –”

“But I have to -”

“You’re sick,” Yoongi cut him off, sternly, and Taehyung remembered the silent promise he’d given just seconds ago, “so I’ll clear your schedule. And then I’ll bring you home for a nice breakfast. Namjoon’s early tomorrow, I think. If not, I’ll tell Hyung to kick him out. We don’t have to see his grumpy face.” He said it with a pout. It made Taehyung chuckle. Yoongi calling someone ‘grumpy’ was a feat in itself.

“Hyung is home tomorrow anyway. You can concentrate on getting better, and let him take care of you. How does that sound?”

“Like I’m ruining his day off,” Taehyung admitted, trying to straighten up again.

Yoongi tightened his grip once more before helping him. “Don’t be stupid. Our break starts the day after anyway. Besides, you’re making his dream come true. He’s been complaining about three things: Barely seeing you for days, you not taking care of yourself, and him having no time for video games. He can do all of it. It’s going to be perfect. Win-win-win.”

Taehyung exhaled, increasing the weight on his body, like his blood was slowly turning into heavy stone… A break sounded good. So good. But could he really? There was still… He still had to do things, right? But his mind was heavy like wet rag, he couldn’t pick it up and wrap it around the thoughts around him. Around Namjoon, around the punch, and work, and the underlying concern in Yoongi’s eyes…

“They’re back. Finally,” Yoongi said suddenly, his voice filled with relief. Taehyung couldn’t even ask who he was talking about as Yoongi’s arms pulled him up, like he knew Taehyung wouldn’t be able to do it himself.

Taehyung huffed as he was standing, gripping onto Yoongi’s offered arm like a lifeline. A cold breeze blew past them, making Taehyung shiver, but bringing some clarity and awareness with it.

“How are you feeling?” Yoongi leaned forward to see Taehyung’s face, his expression tense with worry.

Taehyung took a deep, controlled breath. He had to get a grip on himself, even if only until he reached a bed. He should answer the question. “My brain’s not working,” he admitted as he pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. The truth was the only thing Yoongi would believe right now, and Taehyung didn’t have the energy to lie anyway. “I’m cold.” He frowned. “And hot.”

Yoongi nodded, like it made more sense to him than to Taehyung. “It’s chilly, and you should’ve worn that jacket. But the rest is the fever.” He nodded again, eyes fixated on the car they were walking towards. “We’re going to give you some fever medicine, and you’ll sleep it off, and it’s going to be just fine.”

A familiar voice called from the distance. “Hyung! Taehyung-ah!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. Thankfully he didn’t yell back, just raising a hand in response.

Once by the car, they found Jungkook fumbling with the bags in the trunk of the car, Jimin coming around him to greet the newcomers. “Where have you been? Jungkook’s scraping for leftovers because – What happened?” The alarm in his voice alerted Jungkook, too, who raised his head with a frown and sauce around his lips, illuminated by the car’s lights.

“He’s getting worse,” Yoongi said as he pried off Taehyung’s hands and guided him to Jimin, who, instead of holding his arm, caught him in a hug. “Let’s pack up and leave.”

“Oh, Taehyung-ie,” Jimin’s voice by his ear was like a warm embrace on its own, and at the firm arms around him holding him close, Taehyung couldn’t help but press into it.

“Love you, Jimin.”

Jimin huffed a laugh in his ear. “Love you, too, you big, sick baby.”

A jacket landed on his back – pills and water and someone shoving him inside – he let them do what they wanted and ended up spread across the back seats with his head on Jimin’s leg.

It was warm enough to let go of everything else for a moment there.

Taehyung woke up to the worst thing to wake up to. A headache. A constant dull pain radiating from his brain had just increased enough to push him into awakeness.

Unfortunately, that was all he reached. Awakeness. He was barely aware he was looking at a dark ceiling, nothing else. It wasn’t familiar, so Taehyung waited for something comforting in the metaphorical void he was floating in. Floating with nothing but a headache, because of course the constant pulse would follow him anywhere.

For a while, nothing happened. The ceiling didn’t change magically.

Until a pair of light snores reached the dull silence surrounding him.

Huh. He wasn’t alone.

One was definitely Jimin. The other could be a very tired Hoseok, or an uncomfortable Jungkook. Something hinted towards Jungkook.

They snored again, almost in unison, and Taehyung tipped his head to the side. It was dark, he noted. He could barely make out silhouettes of the objects surrounding him, except for the thin rays of cold, blue light through the window of the door. Then he shifted a little further, because his friends were lower, and the couch underneath him was blocking his view.

They were lying on the ground, both curled up like children under Jungkook’s oversized jacket. Peas in a pod, Seokjin’s voice immediately supplied him. They had found tiny cushions as pillows, and a thin mat, but that was it. No wonder Jungkook’s snore was contained.

Taehyung took in the rest of the room, as much as the darkness allowed. Yoongi’s studio was crowded, years of use as basically a second home had gathered a lot of notes, equipment and practical junk. There, the gamer chair they had gifted him stood empty, though it was more comfortable than the thin mat they were lying on –

Jungkook shifted, snuggling further towards Jimin in his sleep. Like he was cold.

Taehyung frowned. Was that why they had opted for the jacket over the chair? But it wasn’t that cold, was it? Taehyung would even say it was too warm -

Oh. Yoongi’s blanket was draped over Taehyung, and he’d pushed away another thin sheet that looked familiar. A memory flared up behind the fog, he remembered complaining about the cold, Jungkook chuckling, and Jimin rumbling about unfairness.

Taehyung forced himself up, his torso heavy enough to make him wonder how he carried it around every day as he rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t quite there, yet. All of this could turn into a dream very quickly, and he could wake up anywhere else. Then again, how often had he thought of dreams while actually dreaming? This was real. There probably was a reason that he wasn’t in his own bed.

With that thought, and a sharp intake, he remembered. Like snippets of a movie he had forgotten about – Yoongi. Namjoon. Pan Jungdae. The river. The apology.

He remembered, he knew all of it, but he couldn’t combine it yet. They didn’t fit, they had different shapes, they wanted different things, and Taehyung was too overwhelmed to react in any way.

He looked around, looking for something to help him understand. The pain in his head pulsed.

The pieces were scattered around in his brain, just as derelict as Jungkook and Jimin on the company’s harsh and cold floor.  

An ugly fragment in a far corner of his mind waved, with Pan Jungdae’s name written in a sharp font, another one with ‘he deserved it’ close to it.

‘Hoseok’ was in another direction, an apology, and the tightrope between Taehyung and Namjoon he’d fallen from coiled next to it.

A timid ‘Yoongi’, who hadn’t told him the truth until Taehyung had made him – (‘I deserved to know’).

There was a ‘camera footage’ Taehyung had never seen, his ‘career’ tied to it with worn duct tape, his ‘membership’ on the other half.

There was a part of himself, ‘Taehyung’, screaming at Namjoon, right next to one screaming for Namjoon.

Pain pulsed again, and Taehyung landed back on the couch in Yoongi’s studio. His head was killing him. He dragged himself up, turning toward the corner of Yoongi’s rarely stocked up water reserves, before his attention was drawn back to Jungkook’s frown. He reached for the jacket the idiots were sharing, draped it carefully over Jimin, making sure he was covered on both sides.

Jungkook let out a complaining groan.

Taehyung shushed him, even as he reached for the abandoned sheet on the couch, folded it once to increase its weight, and let it fall over Jungkook, covering him just as diligently as Jimin.

Jungkook shifted, still frowning.

Taehyung straightened. Two strides, skipping Jimin’s legs, and he found the last unopened bottle in the corner. He opened it, the cap turning loudly in the silence of the night. The water ran cold against his mouth, even colder as he swallowed it, creating a slowly fading cool tract through his body.

Other pieces of the story took over his thoughts. More complicated ones.

His own pride, for one. And the scratch on it, left by Namjoon acting without telling him, in his name, apologizing for something he had done.

Another scream, ‘I would’ve done it, why did you do this to us?’

Yoongi, sitting on the hood of the car, slouching like he was trying to fold himself into nothingness.

Taehyung tried to flush the heavy lump in his throat with another sip as he stepped back towards Yoongi’s couch. He caught a glimpse of something small on the coffee table that didn’t belong, reached for it – fever pills and a note in Jungkook’s hasty handwriting. ‘Not before 6 in the morning, only 1.’

Another stab of pain in his head interrupted Taehyung’s movements.

There was another piece, the last one, and a huge hole where it was supposed to be.

Namjoon – angry and unfair and cruel and -

- hurting and alone and scared.

Taehyung had finally seen Namjoon today – and his friend was desperate. The dark rings around his eyes, and worry for Taehyung although he was still angry, still pissed, still trying to find a way to balance his own feelings with Taehyung’s…

For a moment, in the dark with everything distant and untouchable, Taehyung could see the chaos with a grainy clarity - His best friends sleeping on the floor, Yoongi on the pathway with a death grip on Taehyung’s shirt, Namjoon looking after them on the sidewalk, Hoseok’s hand on Taehyung’s head –

It had all started with Taehyung. No matter who had done what after that, it had started with him. And he had to find a way to finish it. He might not be able to fix it overnight, he didn’t even have a plan yet – but this couldn’t go on. None of them deserved to be stuck like this.

He took two pills, washed them down with another sip from his bottle. He had to clear his head, he had to understand the pieces, he had to find a picture that made sense, that was acceptable –

‘Just breathe, when you feel like this. Believe me, it makes a difference. Try it next time, okay? Everything is going to be alright anyway.’

Taehyung breathed, following Namjoon’s instructions he hadn’t heard this clearly for a long time. He could fix it. And as long as there was enough of Namjoon to worry about Taehyung, Taehyung could handle him, too.

Carefully, he climbed back onto the couch. His head was still too cloudy, and already pressing against his eyes again, but hopefully, in the morning, he could start actually doing something… Jimin was better at that stuff anyway, and Jungkook would help, as well –

No. Taehyung’s breath hitched in the darkness, his tired eyes suddenly wide again. He couldn’t tell them. Namjoon had made a secret of it, made Yoongi and Hoseok keep it, too –

Another piece flared up in the dark, and Taehyung let it drop like it had burned him.

Hoseok had promised to help, and he’d turned on him once he’d found out. Jimin might, too – Jungkook definitely would.

Taehyung’s eyes fell on Jungkook’s face. The frown was gone, he’d relaxed into the sheets Taehyung had thrown over him. Peaceful and more innocent than Jungkook let it become between all the hard work and the mischief of their tumultuous life.

Jimin was similar, though he looked more stupid with the slight drool running down from the corner of his lips.

Sure, they had been at Taehyung’s side until now, but only because they didn’t know – They both loved Namjoon. They were going to hate Taehyung.

Shit shit shit –

Taehyung couldn’t tell them – but he had to, it wasn’t fair, not when they were so upset on his behalf – but Namjoon hadn’t told anyone yet –

Taehyung forced another breath, pulled the brake on his racing thoughts. Like Hoseok had said, it was Namjoon’s secret to tell, it was up to him to decide on the time.

And if they decided to hate him – It didn’t matter, right? It didn’t change anything. He had to try and fix this, knowing it was going to happen at some point. (And even in the worst case, they wouldn’t be worse than Hoseok, right? And Hoseok had come back that day. Taehyung would be fine. Eventually)

He took one last look at Jimin (ignoring the piece, ‘Jimin would tell me, Jimin wouldn’t hide anything from me’, and another, tiny one, ‘Thank god they don’t know yet, thank god they are both still here’) and closed his eyes to let the numbness to take over once again.

Chapter Text

The next morning, unexpectedly, came with more relief than Taehyung could have dared to hope. More control, more clarity in his brain – like his body had been waiting for nothing more than rest and some good food (and medicine, of course).

The fever still lingered beneath a blanket the fever pills had armed him with, still persevered, but he wasn’t stuck in a dream when he nudged Jimin awake. It felt real as they woke up, and Jungkook started a pillow fight, and Jimin panicked as his projectile knocked over a pile of Yoongi’s sheets, conjuring Yoongi like a vengeful ghost.

After a round of annoyed grumbling, their hyung urged Jimin and Jungkook to gather their stuff and start their days, somehow getting sucked into a deep conversation about the ethics of Artificial Intelligence in their business. The concerned looks landing on Taehyung were the only things out of ordinary, and the familiar morning felt safe enough that Taehyung could almost forget the pieces of last night.

Until they rained down like Lego bricks with a knock on Yoongi’s door and Namjoon’s head poking through the opening.

The air tensed immediately as Jimin turned away with a pointed eyeroll and Jungkook lowered his gaze with a frown. Taehyung tried to swallow down the sudden spike of nerves, but his face was the one Namjoon tentatively settled for.

“Morning.” Namjoon was quiet, and well aware he was intruding. He looked apologetic, to his credit, not meeting his eyes for long, but after their failed conversation last night, Taehyung didn’t know what to do with it. He’d thought he’d have a couple more hours or days before he had to deal with… everything. He barely managed a nod in greeting, and was grateful as Namjoon’s gaze continued its way to Yoongi.

“Hyung, you have a minute?”

Yoongi must have seen something Taehyung hadn’t, because he slid of his chair without a word and went after him, leaving the three of them to an awkward silence.

“Why is he here?” Jungkook was now frowning at the door, like the piece of wood had been the one to follow them out here.

Everything aside, seeing Jungkook bothered by Namjoon’s presence was jarring, giving Taehyung’s unruly mind another stir. He tried to come up with a reason unrelated to him, if only to lighten the tension. “It’s probably about the shooting schedule, right?”

“That’s not for another week, though,” Jungkook muttered, reaching for Yoongi’s phone to look at the display. “He’s been calling for an hour. The phone is silent.”

“Still,” Jimin said disapprovingly. “He shouldn’t have come. Yoongi told him to leave you alone until we have a team meeting.”

Taehyung snapped his head from the door to Jimin, giving himself a dizzy spell. “What?”

Jungkook seemed equally surprised.

“Yeah,” Jimin confirmed hesitantly. “When he came upstairs for the food yesterday. I mean, not directly, but he told Hob-ie-hyung. He was pissed. Namjoon couldn’t have known when he talked to you in the car, but yeah.”

As Taehyung scoured his empty mind for a response, they heard Yoongi’s angry voice rise through the closed door.

Jungkook squinted in confusion. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about sides, but after what he told us in the car yesterday, I could swear Yoongi-hyung’s a double agent.”

Jimin snorted. “Definitely. If this was a movie, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the plot-twist-main-agent or something.”

Taehyung tried not to frown as he thought of the torn look on Yoongi’s face yesterday. “He’s trying to play mediator. Usually it’s Namjoon-hyung, but Yoongi-hyung probably feels like he has to step in, now.”

“I have fought with everyone in the past years, and I’ve never once thought Namjoon-hyung was a double agent.” Jungkook’s eyes landed on the door again, unconvinced.

“I didn’t say he was very elegant at it.”

Outside, Yoongi snapped again.

“Where are you going?”

Jungkook had climbed to his feet, now looking back as he approached the door. “I want to know what they’re talking about.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. All of them were known to eavesdrop now and then, except Namjoon and maybe Yoongi, but Jungkook was definitely the most curious –

Wait. Not a good idea. Not at all. “Jungkook, don’t –”

Jungkook frowned at him, even as he stepped forward quietly. “Just one second, hyung, -”

“No,” Taehyung hissed, hoping his voice didn’t carry out. He owed it to Namjoon – oh no, if they mentioned – if Jungkook heard about the apology, Namjoon would – “Jungkook, come back!”

But Jungkook’s face had already fallen into a concentrated frown.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” came a distracted answer as he tried to make sense of the barely intelligible snippets. He met their eyes before finally making his way back to the bed. “It’s… a crisis.”

“A crisis?” Jimin repeated, voicing the same surprise Taehyung felt. “We haven’t had one in years.” It had been a frequent occurrence, back when their words had little weight, their wishes even less, and Namjoon, as their problem-solver and defender, had fought many battles against stubborn managers for each and every idea to prevent them from becoming puppets of the industry. But they had climbed their way up years ago, enough to have significant say in most processes, and the reminders of those days were now little more than a cause for nostalgia. “And they’re fighting about it?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t think so. Yoongi-hyung sounds pissed at one of the managers.”

Jimin threw a look at the door, but his scowl wasn’t enough to disguise the concern in his eyes. “Like he doesn’t have enough on his plate already.”

Taehyung frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jimin bit his lip before he spoke again. “I know he’s been a dick and stuff, but... Namjoon’s overworking again. Like – seriously. He looks like he’s about to pass out half of the time. If the managers start giving him shit on top of that...” He trailed off.

“What's he working on that nobody else can help with?”

Jimin met his eyes only for a second before he looked away again.

Taehyung looked over to Jungkook – only to receive a similar avoidance.

‘They’re boycotting me.’

“Did – did he ask? For help?” Did you refuse?

Jimin shifted uncomfortably. “No. But I didn’t ask either.” And that – that already told everything. If Jimin, who, the last time Namjoon had been overdoing it, had glued himself to their leader until he’d caved out of guilt, hadn’t asked, Namjoon would’ve known better than to expect help.

That was what Yoongi had meant, wasn’t it? Not to abandon Namjoon for his mistake, not to mistreat him without bounds and reason after what he’d done for them over the years – is that where Taehyung had to step in first? Try to talk Jimin and Jungkook out of -

The door opened without warning, making them all jump.

Yoongi entered with a tight expression and sharp steps, reaching for the spot Jungkook had put the phone back, and leaving the door wide open behind him.

Namjoon appeared in the door frame again, much more collected, but guarding a load of stress behind his expression. “Hi again, guys.” His smile, small and unsure as his gaze darted on their faces, settled on Jimin this time.

“Hi,” Jimin looked up, not hostile, but not smiling either.

Namjoon bit his lips, obviously considering his welcome. Taehyung hated it.

Namjoon’s eyes wandered before finally meeting Taehyung’s. “How are you feeling?”

Taehyung wondered who had told him – ah, wait. Namjoon had realized he was sick when he’d seen him in the car, hadn’t he? “I’m fine,” he answered quietly. “Took some medicine.”

Namjoon nodded absentmindedly. A short, dull sound they all knew by heart announced a message in his pocket. Namjoon didn’t look at it, but his thoughts found some kind of shape, his eyes a direction. “We need to - can we talk?”

Taehyung hated how his heart quickened in pace, how his first thought was that he’d messed up again, how he looked at Yoongi, hoping he’d interfere.

Yoongi looked up from his phone, too, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. He didn’t smile, but the sudden focus on Taehyung and the deliberate calm was sending over waves of assurance.

But Jimin spoke up. “I’m staying here.”

Jungkook followed in almost the same breath. “Me, too.”

Taehyung threw a glance at Namjoon – he had a deep frown – before turning to his two protectors, “Guys, it’s –”

Jimin didn’t say anything, just gestured down with a sharp expression – Oh. Taehyung forced his fist to relax around the fabric of the cushion until his knuckles weren’t white against it.

“You can stay,” Namjoon intervened, his voice a firm cover of something. “You don’t have to leave.” A frown appeared, not for anger or disappointment, but the nerves were rising. Namjoon was just as tense as Taehyung.

He knew, Taehyung realised. He knew Taehyung knew.

Namjoon looked around again, giving them a last chance to prevent him from entering, before stepping in and closing the door behind him. He ignored Yoongi, who had already returned to his angry typing on his phone in the corner, and pulled the chair from the desk, turning it to face the three of them, leaning forward, arms on his legs. Still visibly uncomfortable.

He sighed as he finally squared himself to talk. “Look, Taehyung. I know we haven’t really talked in days now. And I know we need to.” He wasn’t looking up, staring at his hands in front of him. Another message arrived. He ignored it.

Taehyung tried to swallow. He had no idea where this was going.

Namjoon seemed to sense it, when he dared a quick glance at Taehyung. He looked sad when he looked away. “I know I owe you an apology for the way I’ve been acting. And I will give you one. But -”

He was interrupted by another insistent tone, then two more in quick succession, and he drew a breath, shaking with frustration. “Can someone please destroy this thing?”

A beat of silence. “It’s yours,” Jungkook carefully pointed out, looking at Taehyung nervously, barely drowning out another message.

“I know,” Namjoon muttered as he pulled it out, moving like he was about to throw it against the wall.

“I’ll take it,” Yoongi interfered, already reaching for it, only to pull back into his corner after Namjoon pressed his phone into his palm, now dividing his attention on both phones.

Namjoon took a breath to steady himself, to collect his thoughts. “I owe you an apology. And you deserve better than – right now, I can’t, I don’t have the capacity to really listen to what you have to say, and you deserve better –”

“You mean you have no time,” Jimin spat, making both Jungkook and Namjoon flinch. “You had a week, and now you need Taehyung to, what, work? – Which is not happening, by the way, because he is sick and needs rest – now it’s ‘there is no time, sorry’, or what?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung started, because that wasn’t what was happening, it was clear in the gaps of Namjoon’s carefully drawn up walls, but Jimin turned to him indignantly.

“What? This is not okay! He’s essentially saying that what he couldn’t put aside for you, he’s doing for management –”

“Jimin,” Yoongi’s sharp tone cut the angry rant Jimin was just getting started with. He turned to Yoongi defensively, but Taehyung’s eyes fell on Namjoon. He was staring at Jimin, frozen and pale, hurt written all over his wide eyes. Jungkook’s fingers were pressing against Taehyung’s thigh as he’d grabbed a fistful of fabric in a death-grip, tense and ready to jump – at whose defence, Taehyung couldn’t tell.

“That’s not…” Namjoon’s voice trailed off, at a loss of words like he rarely ever was, like he was scared of what could come out of his mouth. But his eyes found Taehyung. “That’s not what I meant.” His eyes were still wide, almost pleading, like they had been yesterday, when he had tried to convince Taehyung that he didn’t hate him.

Jimin snapped back, a retort already on the tip of his tongue, but Taehyung grabbed his arm in an attempt to reign him in. “Jimin, stop it.”

“But he -”

“No. Stop it. Let’s just –” give him a chance? Taehyung hadn’t gotten a chance to explain himself either. But then again, Taehyung had almost ended all their careers, and he’d been the reason Namjoon had - Whatever. “Just calm down, okay? It’s not like he even said anything yet.”

He had, he had promised to talk, to apologize to Taehyung even, which did pour some water on the fears burning their way through Taehyung, but that wasn’t nearly enough to appease a protective Jimin.

“Fine.” Jimin huffed, as he turned back to Namjoon with open fire in his eyes.

Namjoon swallowed, the raw emotions from earlier confined back in the depths. They still flickered in under the covers, but they weren’t at the front, anymore. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but fast. Like he feared another misunderstanding. “I’m not here to ask you to work. Rather the opposite. I just wanted to make sure you know you can be honest with me, despite what happened last week. I don’t want you to be pressured because you’re trying to make it up to anyone or prove yourself or anything like that.”

Jimin deflated next to him, although Namjoon wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was fixed on Taehyung, observing him carefully. “Do you think you can do that? Ignore it for a couple minutes?”

Taehyung blinked. He had snapped at Jimin earlier for jumping to conclusions, but still… it did hurt. Namjoon wasn’t asking for management, he was asking to make sure Taehyung was comfortable, but he hadn’t been able to put it aside for a whole week, even for Taehyung’s sake.

Namjoon saw it, somehow spotted the hurt that had to be shining in Taehyung’s eyes, because he looked down, back to his hands.

But Taehyung could do it. If Namjoon could ignore it for this, Taehyung could do it, too. It was too much to handle anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

Namjoon glanced up, surprised almost.

Taehyung shrugged. “We can press ‘pause’ until the time is right,” he mumbled uselessly.

Next to him, Jungkook barely masked a chuckle with a cough at his wording.

Namjoon’s mouth twitched as he nodded before taking a deep breath and starting his report. “Management sent me new schedules this morning. Seokjin-hyung’s day-off and the first half of our break have been revoked.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s a long answer, but it boils down to Sejin-hyung’s substitute being a dick and prioritizing his groups over us.”

Yoongi snorted.

“I’ll handle most of it, but you guys will be called in, too. I’ll try, I know you’ve been looking forward to it, but I might not be able to prevent it.” He threw them an apologetic look before continuing. “But that’s not all. The shootings for the music video have to be done by tomorrow.”

“That’s impossible,” Jimin started, with far less hostility. “Taehyung’s sick, and -”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung threw in, but Namjoon ignored it.

“I know,” he nodded towards Jimin. “The only reason I didn’t cancel it immediately is because the consequences would have been too big for me to decide on my own.”

Well, wasn’t that ominous… and also hurtful? Because Namjoon, always clear on his I’m-not-a-dictator line, wouldn’t have decided that on his own no matter the stakes.

“There are no other slots for the videos in near future. If we don’t use them now, the release of the video will be delayed for at least two months.”

“What?!” Jimin’s anger at Namjoon seemed to have vanished as he stood up with wide eyes.

“But that’s not fair!” Jungkook argued with similar indignation. “We’ve been working on this for months. We already published the date!”

Taehyung had already known his answer, but he was even more certain now. “We’ll shoot the videos -”

“No!” Both Jungkook and Jimin turned to him in unison.

“You’ve got to rest, hyung, it’s not fair that they push us around like this. They can’t just tell us to shoot a video today, out of the blue, and if not, they’ll delay our release – Namjoon-hyung!”

Namjoon averted his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, I know it’s not fair. I tried, for what it’s worth. I really did.”

“I know you did,” Jungkook said, off-handedly and without a doubt, but Namjoon still seemed smaller than he used to.

“It doesn’t matter, guys, because I’m fine.”

Jungkook looked at him with squinted eyes. “You’re running on a couple hours of sleep, an overdose of fever medicine and an injured ankle, hyung. You didn’t see how you looked yesterday. You shouldn’t be working at all, let alone shoot an MV.”

“But I can do it!” Taehyung pressed over Jimin’s similar protests. “Really, I’m fine. My ankle is fine, and the pills have helped, I’m okay.”

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi’s soft voice caught everyone’s gazes immediately. “Hob-ie and Hyung think we should postpone it, too. Nothing is more important than your health, especially not that manager’s moods-”

“But I’m fine,” Taehyung repeated, growing frustrated. Why couldn’t anyone hear him? “I feel fine, there’s no need to -”

“Taehyung, please be reasonable,” Namjoon started again. “The medicine is making you feel better, I get it. But you know how that works. Just because it’s covering your symptoms doesn’t mean your body isn’t fighting the sickness. You need rest if you actually want to get better -”

All four of them were looking at him, various degrees of disagreement and insistence in their eyes and Taehyung couldn’t help but snap. “Then why are you even here?”

Namjoon clicked his mouth shut.

“If it won’t matter what I’m going to say, why are you even asking? My answer is clear, I’ll do it. But I can’t stop any of you from vetoing, can I? Why don’t you say you won’t work, and we’ll have to postpone it anyway? Or maybe you want to tell them I’m not in the mood, against my will, and I’ll hear about it from Yoongi-hyung a week later, if ever?” He’d raised his voice enough for Jungkook to shrink next to him, but Jimin’s were darting between him and Namjoon, who looked like he’d been punched, proving that his covered jab hadn’t been silent at all.

Regret took over in an instant, spreading with familiar rigidity through Taehyung as he sucked in a breath, like that could take his words back.

He’d done it again, hadn’t he? He’d butchered his one chance, the one moment he had been waiting for. Namjoon had come to him, offering an olive branch to finally find some peace, and Taehyung had turned it into a fight. Just like at the breakfast table. He’d lashed out. Again. After he’d found out what Namjoon had done for him, what he’d spared him from.

Why couldn’t he just think before he exploded and hurt his friends?

“You’re right.” Namjoon’s voice was calm, defeated but genuine as he spoke with a lowered head. “It’s your call. I didn’t mean to override your judgement. I thought you knew that, so I was just trying to make sure you knew what you were risking because you don’t exactly have a good record of taking care of yourself.”

“Hyung, I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s okay, Taehyung, I get that you’re angry, and you don’t – As long as you know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want, it’s okay. Like I said, we will talk once we get the chance.” He straightened. “You’re sure about the shootings?”

His usually loyal voice faltered. “Yeah,” he breathed out finally.

Namjoon nodded, and turned to Yoongi’s corner. “Hyung?”

“They are waiting downstairs, next to the big conference room.” Yoongi stood up, sliding one of the phones in his pocket, keeping the other open in his hand.

Namjoon stood up, sighed sourly, before looking at the three of them again. “Look – I know this week – I know I messed up. A lot. And I’ve been acting – horribly. I know.”

Taehyung wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the bitter, defeated note in Namjoon’s words. It resonated with another uneasy memory in the depths of the years he couldn’t name yet.

Namjoon continued. “And there might not be a chance for us to address it for a few days. But I hope you believe me when I say that I am doing my best. And the coming week, too, I know this sucks, and you all had plans... But – I really tried. I hope you can trust that, just for a couple more days.” He nodded again, like he could just excuse himself like that, and Yoongi’s expression was as stormy as it had been in the memory –

“Yes, you have. You’ve been a dick. And I’m still pissed.” Jimin declared, firm enough to stop Namjoon in his tracks. “I’m angry that you won’t talk to us, and treated Taehyung the way you did. But I don’t have to know about what went wrong with management. I have no doubt that you handled everything with our best interests in mind, more than your own, and that no one could’ve done it better.”

Finally, finally, Taehyung remembered.

Their breaks cancelled due to logistic mistakes – ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve doubled checked, it’s my job as a leader...’

Stranded at the wrong side of the city for an interview – ‘I didn’t see the text, shit, I’m sorry, guys...’

No translator, although the maknaes had explicitly asked him to make sure – ‘They promised, but I should’ve made sure, I’m so sorry...’

And finally, the worst of all, Beijing, still half out if it from underneath an oxygen mask – ‘I promise I won’t be angry, or hurt, I understand if you want another leader...’

Taehyung had been scared, Jungkook, too, the maknae clinging to his side like he was doing right now, both of them shaken at the sight of their usually unshakable leader so tiny in his words.

“I – I would like to know what happened,” Jungkook picked up with a tiny frown where Jimin left, “because I’m curious and I like to know things.” He shrugged. “But for the rest, I’m with Jimin-hyung. I don’t need to know to trust that you did your best with the break and work. And the other stuff has got nothing to do with that. It’s about how we talk and fight, not about you being our leader.” He shrugged again, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that managed to catch Namjoon’s attention without fail. “We can talk about work, too, I like talking bad about management and they are being annoying, but apart from that, I’m fine.”

It did this time, too, conjuring a curl around Namjoon’s lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll see how you think about it later. But... thanks, guys.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, though he did seem to approve of the youngers’ words.

“Hob-ie knows, doesn’t he?” Taehyung spoke up, his voice under control and his most useful weapon once again, although his words were limited. “Yoongi-hyung knows, too. And they still trust you.”

Namjoon stared back with raised eyebrows, the question silent but piercing. What about you?

Taehyung almost shrank back in habit, after a week of avoiding Namjoon, but his fears were not reasonable, he knew now. Not after what Namjoon had done for him. Even if he hated it. So, he squared himself and stared right back. “And we’re going to be fine, too. You and me.”

Namjoon frowned, his eyes doubtful, his guard up. “How do you know?” The anger flickered, close enough to the surface to cause waves.

Like that could scare Taehyung anymore. “Because I know.” He raised his chin in defiance, and suddenly it was Yoongi’s words from a dreamy memory on his lips. “You’re you, and I’m me. Of course, we will be fine. We will make it fine.” There was no time to doubt, no opportunity to prove his claim. If they were going to ignore it for now, he just needed Namjoon to believe. “There’s no other option.”

A cocktail of the emotions from last night flashed through Namjoon’s eyes as he deflated, unsure and uncomfortable and uncertain and so un-Namjoon-like that Taehyung’s words couldn’t find him yet, like they went right past him like all the words of the others had until now, like he was looking for something he didn’t dare to admit –

“Hyung.” Taehyung stared right back, not caring about the question of which one of them had strayed too far. Everything he needed was right in front of him, and he wouldn’t let it slip away. “It’ll be fine.” He hadn’t expected Namjoon to fight him on this, but he wasn’t one of the most experienced members in fighting their leader for nothing.

It only took another second for Namjoon to finally, finally capitulate with a tiny breath releasing the strain on his shoulders. It was relief, Taehyung would forever swear on it, but it was gone the next moment, leaving space for an exasperated smile with soft eyes. “You’re impossible to argue with, Kim Taehyung.”

The tension in the room vanished without another word, and Taehyung smiled. “Because Kim Taehyung is always right.” He said easily, and his heart felt lighter than it had for a whole week.

Namjoon was about to retort, but Yoongi interrupted, for once not bothering to hide his own relieved grin. “Yeah, yeah, long live the amazing Kim Taehyung, but I just got a message that we have 180 seconds for three flights of stairs if we don’t want our wages to be cut, and I’m saving up for a new laptop, so get going.” He’d already started to manhandle Namjoon towards the door.

“What did you do with the rest of your money, Yoongi-hyung?”

“I spent it all on bad earplugs to tune out his snoring through the wall.” Yoongi winked at Jungkook over Namjoon’s protests. “See you guys at later.”

Jimin laughed. “See you, broke-millionaire-hyung. You should hurry if you want to make it in time.”

“Yaah. Don’t forget to clean up before you leave, brats. And then go down for breakfast.” Yoongi closed the door behind him, muffling Namjoon’s last cry of instructions.

“Don’t waste too much time, we’ll meet up in an hour to get to the sets!”

“Alright, alright!” Jimin yelled back.

Taehyung let himself fall back with a smile. Finally, finally things were going to be alright.

Chapter Text

Taehyung entered the make-up room expecting to find a couple staff members waiting for him. But it was empty, so he made his way over to the row of empty armchairs, pulling out his phone to double-check his schedule.

Until a familiar snore caught his attention, that was, a much lighter variant of what used to lull him to sleep for years.

Namjoon was sleeping on the couch behind the door, in a sitting position, his head thrown back in a painful angle, his phone between the cushions where it had slipped out of his loose grip.

Taehyung smiled, contemplating whether to wake Namjoon, but if the leader had fallen asleep like this, he probably needed the sleep more than a healthy posture.

Their ‘pause’ was still going on, meaning they ignored the issue completely, locking the monster in the closet until they had time to deal with it. Things weren’t truly back to normal yet, everything still felt tilted to the left, the monster was still there. But it was tamed, for now, or sleeping, or maybe tranquilized, and Namjoon seemed just as relieved as Taehyung, twitching into a hesitant smile when their eyes met between two scenes.

A chance to communicate longer than that hadn’t come up yet, anyway.

They had tried to wait up for him, the maknae line, but a full day of shooting on three different sets had taken a toll on them, and they had fallen asleep past midnight in the living room in front of a running TV. In the morning, the only trace of Namjoon had been the blankets he’d thrown over them, and the empty spots of the breakfast boxes Seokjin and Jimin had prepared for the rap line.

Yoongi had already warned them that they wouldn’t see much of Namjoon or Hoseok in the following days. Usually, they tried to eat their meals together, but so far, there hadn’t been any success. While Hoseok was mostly busy dealing with the set crew and the videos, Namjoon appeared barely on time to get ready for his turns and vanished into thin air right after that, working on his phone in the spare breaks in between. He’d always been a hard worker, but he hadn’t been burning both ends at this speed for a long time.

Taehyung tiptoed towards the furthest seat in the row of mirrors to rest his own worn-out limbs and prepared his mind for what turned out to be a break of at least fifteen minutes – he could try to get some sleep himself, but he wasn’t sure if it would help or just increase the symptoms he’d been trying to ignore since he’d left the apartment.

It was getting worse. Exhaustion was already knocking against his brain, and he’d only been working for a couple hours. And Seokjin had taken control of his medicine intake, not allowing extra pills, leaving their short breaks as his only way of recharging for the straining videos.

He stretched out his legs on the cushioned chair, and lazily started to draw a comic about a bird and a tree with an almost emptied set of colourful shades on the edge of the desk until the peaceful serenity of the room came to an end with a sharp intake from the couch.

Taehyung turned in his chair, ready to welcome his hyung back to the land of living, only to find Namjoon’s eyes still closed.

Closed too tightly to be peaceful, a deep frown already marring the relaxed face from just minutes ago.

Taehyung waited, hoping he’d relax on his own, and he wouldn’t have to wake him up, but Namjoon’s face twitched again into a painful expression, his whole body tensed – His eyes flew open as he shot up into a straight position, blinking, reaching for the couch to ground himself, frowning again as he processed – his surroundings? Or the dream? Taehyung couldn’t even tell if he was really awake or not. He blinked again, once, twice, before the painful expression was back, and he ducked forward to hide his face in his hands, forcibly breathing through his teeth, a calming technique they had all used at least a handful times before.

Taehyung’s lungs started to burn, and just then he realized he was holding his breath, but he didn’t dare to release it. Namjoon hadn’t seen him yet, and he might startle at too sudden commotion, so, with a quiet breath, Taehyung dragged his foot on the floor, a neutral, quiet sound, maybe that wouldn’t –

Namjoon tensed into himself as his head shot up, eyes wide and awake.

Taehyung smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Namjoon-hyung. Good morning.”

Namjoon sent out a deep, shaky exhale as his hand ran over his face. “Taehyung. You scared me.” He took a couple seconds behind his hands. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to startle you,” Taehyung grimaced. “Not very successful, sorry.”

Namjoon shook his head, slowly pulling down his hands with controlled breaths. “It’s okay.” He blinked as he stretched his shoulders, throwing an awkward glance at Taehyung, but otherwise already slipping into his usual calm with a yawn. Then, he frowned. “What are you doing here? Were you waiting for me? You should’ve-”

“I’m waiting for my next scene,” Taehyung quickly threw in before Namjoon summoned guilt out of thin air in just a couple seconds. “What about you?”

Namjoon leaned back. “I have break until I have to go back to the company, thought I’d catch a quick nap until then.” He checked his phone before letting it go again. “I need to leave in a couple minutes~” he sang in his exasperated tune.

“Did it help?” Taehyung asked carefully. At Namjoon’s puzzled face, he added, “The nap. Did you sleep well?”

Namjoon shrugged evasively. “I only got a couple hours tonight, so every minute helps.” He reached for his phone again, seemingly okay, unbothered by whatever he’d woken up from. “How are you feeling, by the way? We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday. You think you’re over your fever?”

Taehyung hummed. He’d dodged around the truth with the others, but Namjoon both trusted and depended on their honesty with this stuff. “I’ve been taking the pills since yesterday. I don’t think I would feel much better without them, to be honest.”

Namjoon frowned. “I already told you, I don’t think you should be working at all. Your health is more important, and it’s the company’s fault for taking away our booked slots. We can cancel anytime you want.”

Taehyung shook his head. “I know, hyung. But I only have a couple hours left anyway.” He sighed, looked away, already knowing Namjoon wouldn’t like what he was going to say. “But I might be out of commission for a couple days after that.”

As expected, Namjoon tensed immediately. “Taehyung, -”

“I’m just saying, don’t be surprised, and you know, don’t count on me for a couple days, because something is definitely coming up. And maybe don’t be too worried.” He scratched his head, unable to hold back a smirk while biting his tongue at Namjoon’s disapproving look.

“‘Don’t be too worried’ he says. What else am I going to do with that information? I should force you to go home, you know that, right?”

“But you won’t?” Taehyung bent forward, making sure to put a tiny pout around his apologetic smile. “I promise I will be okay, hyung, just a little… sick. Everyone gets sick sometimes -”

“Yes, and you are already sick, and you should be in bed right now, not work until you’re about to die!”

“Now, that sounds a little dramatic, Namjoon-ie,” Taehyung joked. “I’m just saying that I am running on the lower half of the battery, and you shouldn’t charge it before it’s empty anyway, so I am doing what’s healthy.” His chest squeezed at the nickname that had slipped of his tongue, but Namjoon didn’t seem to care.

“You’re not a phone, Kim Taehyung, you are a human being, and running your battery empty is not healthy at all. Nor is trusting incorrect myths by the way. I should sick Seokjin or Jimin on you.”

“But you won’t, right?” Taehyung brought his hands together in front of him in a pleading motion.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, then asked, “When are you getting off?”, pretending that he hadn’t already lost.

“Five forty-five is my last shot, it’s planned for one hour,” Taehyung answered like a shot.

“And you’ll go home and rest after that?”

“I will go straight to bed and not move until I am at one hundred percent.”

Namjoon didn’t look convinced.

Taehyung raised one hand. “I swear that I will only leave my bed for toilet breaks and other emergencies.”

Namjoon raised a single eyebrow.

“I swear that I will only leave my bed with explicit permission.”

“From?”

“You or Seokjin-hyung.” Taehyung said, immediately regretting it. “And Jimin?”

“Me or Seokjin-hyung. Or you’re going home now.”

Taehyung sighed. He’d gotten himself into worse deals in the past. “Okay. You or Seokjin-hyung it is.”

Namjoon sighed, too, although he was mirroring Taehyung’s smile. “Fine. Just this once. Next time, you’re taking the day off as soon as you know you’re sick.”

“Yessir, leader-nim, sir.” Taehyung saluted, and Namjoon laughed.

The sound stung, out of nowhere. Taehyung really hadn’t heard it for a long time, had he? Had Namjoon missed it, too? Talking to Taehyung, hearing his voice?

Namjoon’s alarm interrupted the moment, bringing back the weary expression on Namjoon’s face. He stood up. “That’s it for my break, then.” He already looked tired.

“Do you know when you’ll be back tonight, hyung?”

Namjoon’s face scrunched up. “Past midnight, probably. Don’t wait up.”

“I’ll be in bed anyway,” Taehyung answered seriously, getting another laugh in return. “Is that okay, though? You’ve been working a lot these days.”

Namjoon flashed him a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s a lot, but it’s going to be much easier after the MV. Plus, I’m already loading off as much as I can on Hob-ie and Yoongi. And Jimin’s going to be next, so you can warn him about that.”

Taehyung nodded as he watched Namjoon walk over to the mirrors to check himself over before he left. He seemed fine, except for the exhaustion. Like the nightmare hadn’t happened at all. “Hyung… I know we’re on pause or whatever, but you would still tell someone, right? If it gets too much?”

That made Namjoon freeze, a familiar flash Taehyung had hoped to never see again passing through his eyes, directed at his own image in the mirror. He closed his eyes as he drew back, lost in whatever darkness crossed his mind. He breathed, and pushed it back, gathered himself as he turned to Taehyung, though still uncertain. “You said you would make it okay, right?”

Taehyung had said ‘we’, as in ‘both of us’, but the voice was reaching out for him, for once not offering but asking, like a hand about to be swallowed by dark waters, so he nodded automatically. He would.

Namjoon’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, before he nodded, too, the corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes filled with too much for Taehyung to decipher. “That’s enough for now. I can work with that.” He exhaled, and turned into a more familiar version of Namjoon, when he accepted a microwaved meal with a grateful sigh after coming home way deep in the night. “It’s not your fault, but it really sucked not having you close, Kim Taehyung. You make life a lot easier.” He looked like he meant it, like Taehyung hadn’t been the one to kickstart this whole mess, like Taehyung had already done him good by being here. And he smiled, wider, like he really did believe that they could solve anything, like they already had, and – “See you… tomorrow, probably. Don’t forget your promise, I’ll check in with the others.” – he was gone, leaving a dumbfounded Taehyung behind.

Chapter Text

“How’s your ankle?”

They were sitting in the cafeteria, their half-finished burgers and a pile of fries on their plates. Proper lunch was already a rare occasion during filming, but this time their schedules barely allowed any breaks except for the periods they were waiting for their scenes. Still, somehow Taehyung had been lucky (or blessed with some overly worried hyungs that fought any authority to get a say in the schedule for his sake) and he had been sent off for lunch with a timeframe of almost half an hour. And even luckier than that, he’d been graced with a companion, too.

A companion that had witnessed his fall that seemed centuries away now, although his ankle was throbbing painfully after two days of intensive use. But the worst was over, at least for his ankle, and he’d gotten through the intense scenes without further injury or drawing attention to it, so Taehyung wasn’t worried.

“It’s fine,” he answered. “I don’t have any dance sequences left anyway.”

Hoseok gave him a look full of mistrust over his burger. “You’ve been favouring it all day, do you think I didn’t notice? And you’re sick, too, you’re moving less than usual.”

Taehyung frowned at his own burger. “Do you think it’s noticeable in the shootings?”

“Nah. You’re too good to be obvious about it.” Hoseok countered, unbothered. “Don’t worry. No one knows your dancing well enough to read your mood out of it.”

Taehyung dared a cheeky smile before he bit into his burger. “Except for my hyungs.”

Hoseok snorted back. “Hey. Except for this one hyung in particular.” He pointed at his chest with his thumb.

Taehyung swallowed while rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. This hyung sees it in my dancing, the other in my walk, the other in my eyes, but all of them are a bunch of mother-hens.”

“Because they care about their dongsaengs, you idiot. And they have to take care of the dongsaengs who ignore their own health.”

“Hyuung,” Taehyung whined, “I already got scolded twice for that today, and I had to sacrifice my freedom for the coming days, have some mercy on me.”

Hoseok laughed. “Fine, fine, I’ll let the others deal with you.”

Taehyung flashed him a smile as he happily dived into his burger. Hoseok in his ‘worrier’-mode was something he’d been trying to avoid, because he would see most of the clues Taehyung was trying to hide. Namjoon had barely enough time to deal with his own stuff, and Seokjin was already pissed and on full drive because Taehyung was working at all, Jungkook was alternating between worrying and helping him go through the day without too obvious mistakes… Having Hoseok’s eyes on his back on top of all that wouldn’t have been fun. Thankfully, he was being reasonable about it (unlike Seokjin, but that was the consequence of dodging last week’s attempts to ensure Taehyung didn’t drive himself to the ground, Taehyung supposed), because Taehyung had every intention to take care of himself starting the second the shootings were over.

“You believe me, right?”

Taehyung froze mid chewing-process at the sudden dejected tone in Hoseok’s voice. “Huh?” he tried to ask with his mouth full of burger.

Hoseok wasn’t looking at him, lost in other dimensions through his plate. “When I say I care. And I worry. You believe me, right?”

Taehyung quickly swallowed his bite. “Yes. I do,” he said firmly, already aware that it was just the introduction for something more. But this question was the foundation, and it should be as firm and stable as his belief in the answer.

Thankfully, it seemed to be enough, because Hoseok nodded after giving him a sort, searching stare. “Good. I’m glad.” There was a small pause before he looked up. “I am sorry. Do you know that, too? I am really sorry.”

Taehyung stayed silent as he put down his burger, not only for Hoseok to continue, but also to give himself the chance to remember last week. How Hoseok had glared at him when he’d been trying to apologize, how he’d bandaged his foot with utmost care, how he’d sounded as torn as Yoongi had looked a couple times. He wanted to give Hoseok’s apology justice.

“I made you think I didn’t. Care about you, I mean. I know you thought that, and I can see why you did, and I’m really sorry for behaving like that.”

Taehyung breathed out. “It’s okay, hyung.”

“No, it’s not.” Hoseok retorted quickly, firmly. “It wasn’t okay.”

“No, not like that.” Taehyung frowned, assessed the maze of feelings in his emotional landscape that was already clearing up with passing time, now that he wasn’t blinded by fear and incomprehension. He could see, Namjoon and Hoseok, and even Yoongi. He could connect the dots and see the outlines of shapes, understand so much more, even the biggest disappointments and fears of the past week, and what he understood, he could make others understand, too. “I’m not saying that it didn’t hurt. Or that you did the right thing. And at that moment, it didn’t feel okay at all. But it’s okay now. I understand why you reacted like that, and maybe I would have done the same.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he was right. If he’d been in Hoseok’s position, Taehyung would have been just as angry, just as harsh. Especially thinking of the talk at the breakfast table – he wouldn’t have accepted anything less than a heart-felt teary apology on Namjoon’s behalf. He would have followed Namjoon down into the same rabbit hole, even if it was wrong.

“Really?” Hoseok continued to stare down, not convinced by Taehyung’s words. “I think it was unfair and one-sided.”

Taehyung straightened in the cheap plastic chair. “I’m glad you were one-sided.”

Hoseok looked up with a confused frown, and Taehyung shrugged. “I’m glad you were on Namjoon’s side.”

“I shouldn’t have taken a side at all,” Hoseok disagreed, reciting the mantra that had annoyed Taehyung more often than not, because he couldn’t drag anyone else into his fights with Jimin. But it was one of Namjoon’s hard-fought rules that had kept them together, as they had realized even before their debut.

Maybe, if they had followed all the rules, this mess could’ve been resolved much earlier, with much less pain.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. But it was different this time, wasn’t it? Because Namjoon-hyung didn’t talk to anyone, other than you. He already broke the first rule. He didn’t want the others to know. And I get it,” he pointed out quickly because Hoseok had already opened his mouth to defend Namjoon when he didn’t have to. He was trying not to think about it, but he didn’t know what he would do once the others found out. How they would react, and if he would have the courage to look them in the eyes. “I get it. But because no one knew, no one could understand him. Whether it was right or wrong, I’m glad he had you.”

Hoseok mulled over his words for a couple seconds. “Still. I didn’t have to be that harsh on you.”

Taehyung thought of the icicle that had grown inside in a week. “Yeah, you didn’t.” He heard Hoseok look up, although he didn’t raise his eyes yet.

“I wasn’t even planning to, you know? I was going to stay out of it. Maybe add on to Namjoon’s lecture if necessary. Namjoon was going to tell everything at the breakfast table, he wasn’t planning on hiding anything, but then he didn’t… I don’t even know when and why he changed his mind. But in that second, I couldn’t stop thinking that you should know what he had to do to get you, or all of us, out of that mess, I thought he was going easy on you by not telling you. And then you didn’t apologize, and you started speaking like you didn’t regret it at all, and I kinda saw red. And that red didn’t go away.”

Taehyung snorted bitterly. “I still don’t know why I didn’t either. I had waited up for you, the night before, I had planned apologize, prepared what to say and stuff… but Yoongi-hyung sent me back before any of you noticed me.”

“Oh,” came Hoseok’s small response. “I didn’t know that. It was probably the right decision, though.”

Taehyung shrugged. “I only joined breakfast to apologize, I was just waiting for an opportunity, but you were ignoring me. Both of you were so angry, and Namjoon looked like he hated everything, and… and then he talked like that, like he wouldn’t ever be in the same room with me again if he had a choice, like he didn’t want me there.” He interrupted his own ramble of words that had speed up along his own heartbeat.

“And I didn’t know,” he started again. “I had no idea it could be this bad. I know I threw the first punch and all that, I’m not saying I’m innocent - but I was just minding my own business, and they cornered me, and he kept talking and talking, and I still tried to ignore him,” and the same anger rose again, the frustration of hearing those words about his friends, of looking at the guy that hated Namjoon, that had mocked Namjoon publicly and hadn’t gotten the response he’d deserved, the guy that Namjoon hated like no one else, that he had talked about in a dark night with venom in his voice, and for a moment, it was the same Taehyung, the one that hadn’t cared, had thought the consequences would be worth it, “and okay, yeah, I punched him, but he hit back, and I thought- I didn’t know.”

“I regretted it the second I realized that it was going to cause problems, that it would affect all of us, but even then I thought it would just be an NDA that Namjoon would have to read twice, or maybe some compensation payments, I didn’t think it would be this bad-” But it had been, and Namjoon had apologized to Pan Jungdae, had bowed in front of the guy he had fought hard to ignore because he wasn’t going to sink to his level, all because of one moment of stupid careless action. “I had no idea it could get this bad.”

And then he had almost killed Yoongi at a riverside he’d shown Taehyung only to cheer him up. For the first time since that night his brain had enough time to express another fear, what will happen next time I lose control? before Taehyung squished it all back again.

He collected his thoughts. “And I still didn’t know, at the breakfast table, because he didn’t tell, and I thought I didn’t deserve to be hated for this-”

“We didn’t hate you-”

“I know. And I knew it then, too. Or I thought I did. But sometimes that’s not enough.” Taehyung looked up to meet Hoseok’s clouded eyes.

Hoseok had been the one to explain the difference between knowing and knowing, back when Taehyung had called Jimin an ‘ugly duck trying to dance and sing at the same time’ during one of their frequent fights and had been upset again when Jimin had taken it to heart. “Sometimes that’s not enough, and all I could think was that you would kick me out for another mistake-”

“We would never – Taehyung-ah, we didn’t ever even think –”

“I know!” Taehyung repeated, maybe a little too harsh. “I know it’s stupid now. But I did think that.” He forced his scowl to relax.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung-ah.” Hoseok’s voice was shaking. “I didn’t realise it at that time, but it was cruel of us to scare you like that, to leave you alone with that kind of fear. I’m really, really sorry.” His voice was thin like paper, like ice that was about to break, like the floods were waiting right behind it. Hoseok was about to cry.

But there was no reason to cry, because Taehyung was fine now.

So, Taehyung took a deep breath, loud enough for Hoseok to follow instinctually. Yes, it had been bad, but it was getting better. They were all working on making it better. “I forgive you. And besides, like I said, it’s okay now. You pulled through when it counted.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Yeah. Even Namjoon was faster, and he’s the one who had the worst share out of this ordeal.”

Taehyung frowned. “That’s not true.”

Hoseok looked up again.

“I didn’t realize it then, but when you found me in the studio… You were still angry at me, and you still helped me.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you like that,” Hoseok said dismissively, like it didn’t count. While it was the only thing that did.

“Yeah,” Taehyung started again with emphasis, “you saw me in pain, and ‘leaving’ was not an option anymore. It was the same with Namjoon, wasn’t it? He thought I needed him to be there for me, yesterday, when we talked about the schedules, so he was. I thought I needed both of you that morning, and I thought it was obvious, so I couldn’t understand why you weren’t there. That’s why I felt so lost. But you came back, just because of a twisted ankle, and I still didn’t know everything, but the fact that you came back was enough. It gave me hope, hyung.”

Hoseok’s eyes were uncertain and still close to tears. But he seemed full once again, not carefully level and scared of mis-stepping, instead filled with emotion until it spilled out of his eyes, like their Jung Hoseok always was, full of happiness, sadness, discipline, fun… Whatever it was, he felt it in full. And right now, the same feeling was pouring out of him that had encased Taehyung in the practice room, strong enough to overwhelm him despite the tenderness. Waves of softness, gentleness, of care. He wasn’t doing anything, but Taehyung felt cared for by every gentle hand the world had to offer. Hoseok was back.

Namjoon still wasn’t.

Taehyung’s eyes started to burn. He reached toward one of his fries, dipped it into the smear of ketchup at the edge of his plate, drawing little circles in it as he tried to swallow down the lump that was pressing against his throat. “It’s hard on him, isn’t it, hyung?” He exhaled, put the food down again. “It’s got him really rattled. That’s why he didn’t tell us yet, and why you got so protective over him.”

Hoseok only looked at him for a moment, before he averted his gaze to the side. “He’s still not talking about it.” The quiet words were the strongest confirmation Hoseok could’ve offered.

“I promised to fix it.” Taehyung started, staring at the table. “I’m the one who started this mess, it’s my fault that we got stuck like this. So, I promised him to make it okay, when he said he’d apologize.” He frowned. “Maybe I’m a coward, but I try to forget it. With the shootings, and everyone being busy… – It’s somewhere in my brain, since Yoongi-hyung told me, but I don’t want to think about it. I don’t ask myself if I can fix it, if he can really forgive me, if you can forgive me, if the others – I’m scared of what they will say once they find out. But I can’t think about it, because I can’t afford to hide again. I have to keep going.”

He forced his gaze to stay on Hoseok, who’d met his eyes again, despite the sudden urge to run away. “And for that, I need to believe that it can be fixed. What I broke with that punch – I have to believe that it can be repaired. I can only do that because you came back, hyung. Even before I found out, when everything was still the scariest, you came back. I have to believe that Namjoon will come back, too. And if Jungkook and Seokjin and –” his voice cracked, his eyes trailed off, but he tried again, “and Jimin are angry next, because of what Namjoon had to do, because of what I did to our team, then it will be okay, too. They will forgive me, eventually. Because you did, too.” Despite all his efforts, the waver in his voice had only increased, revealing his weak grasp on the straws of hope even to himself. “Right?” He couldn’t stop himself from glancing up.

Hoseok’s eyes were vivid, the waves of emotion tumbling over each other, until the action broke into his limbs. He pushed away the long-forgotten plate and shoved back his chair with a loud grating sound and the same efficiency he had pulled Taehyung into the van after seeing his bloody knuckles and paperwhite skin. A couple firm steps, and he was at Taehyung’s side, pulling him into his chest as soon as he was close enough to touch him. “Oh, Taehyung-ie.”

Taehyung went limp, let himself be held in that strong hold that had the power to convey any kind of feeling and was now restoring brick after brick in the damaged landscape of his heart.

“Of course. Of course, they will come back. No one is going anywhere. No one is going anywhere.”

Taehyung was full, too. Full of gratitude, because he could believe it. He’d taken this feeling for granted, just over a week ago, but now, when he felt safe in every cell that was pressed against his hyung, he was grateful for the way it warmed him up like a home.

Because these people, Hoseok and Yoongi and Namjoon and all the others, they could whisper words that made Taehyung’s heart soar, they could look at him in their very specific way and make him believe that he could conquer the world, they could smile, and Taehyung knew he would never be alone ever again.

Chapter Text

He had been fine. He’d already started to doubt his trusted gut sending ominous warnings about the coming days. That’s how ‘okay’ he’d felt.

Yes, he might not have been as energetic as usual in his last shot with Seokjin, but once they’d finished the last scene, stripped out of the costumes and taken their showers, once they had climbed into the car, once Seokjin had gained control over the situation and finally started to relax and joke and fool around with him, the world had returned to its usual speed.

Taehyung hadn’t even been thinking about it when they shoved each other through the apartment door with muffled laughter and far more competitiveness than necessary and somehow Taehyung landed on all fours while Seokjin gracefully jumped over him.

“That’s what you get for challenging your elder! You have a lot to learn, inexperienced youngster.”

“That wasn’t fair!” Taehyung whined between his laughter. “You set me up!”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t be a sore loser, Taehyung-ssi. Square and fair doesn’t matter if your loss is round and bound.”

Taehyung wheezed as he let himself melt against the floor. “What does that even mean?”

Seokjin laughed as he hung his coat reaching the hanger over Taehyung’s head. “It means, accept your defeat and hurry up to the kitchen. Let’s cook a nice dinner before the others crowd the kitchen like hungry dogs. And then I can finally beat you at your own video game.”

“You wish!” Taehyung pushed himself up and fumbled to untie his shoes. “Hyung, do we have beef? Can we make the beef stew you made a couple weeks ago? That one was delicious.”

“Everything I make is delicious! Anyone who implies otherwise can cook for himself for the rest of his life.”

Taehyung chuckled. He wasn’t kidding, though, his mouth was already watering at the thought of that stew. He threw his shoes into the rack, ignoring that they had landed on Jungkook’s white sneakers, which was bound to cause problems at some point, and climbed onto his feet, stepping closer to Seokjin’s soft murmur of an upbeat song along with his efficient clatter.

And that, was when his body gave up.

A sudden icy wind swept over every inch of his skin, managing to drop his temperature into something hotter? His hand shot out to reclaim the feeling of balance that was seeping of his limbs, he swallowed down saliva in his mouth that was definitely not for food, and a single pearl of cold sweat ran down his temple. What on earth was going on?

“Hyung.” His voice was too quiet, there was no way anyone would hear him – but he was too scared of fainting, or hurling, to raise the volume or to take another step.

“Taehyung-ah?” Seokjin appeared with a wide grin and an opened container in his hand. “Look what I found. Do you want -” His smile dropped as he took in Taehyung’s expression. “What do you need?” He was already rushing to his side, somehow having gotten rid of the container, catching Taehyung when his knees let him fall.

“Bathroom,” he croaked, and the rest was a blur.

“Are you feeling better?”

Taehyung looked up at Seokjin sitting on his bedside.

Taehyung’s head was only elevated with a double layer of pillows, the covers pulled up enough to almost cover him entirely, but not enough to warm him up.

Did he feel better?

He didn’t feel like he was going to throw up again, but that was probably related to his body finally being convinced that there wasn’t anything left in his abused stomach.

He wasn’t about to fall down, but once again only because he was already laying flat.

He shrugged faintly.

Seokjin forced a smile. “Don’t worry. Just rest a little, and you’ll be better in no time.” He ran his hand over Taehyung’s forehead, pushing his hair back. “Let’s try to get some soup into you, so your body isn’t running completely empty. You know my soups have powers like the best medicine.”

Taehyung smiled, too, as he shrugged again, and Seokjin stood up, letting the bed bounce a little at the lifted weight, his now empty spot growing cold immediately.

Taehyung didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t want to force anything down his sore throat. He didn’t want to be alone. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

Seokjin stopped short at the door, tilted his head. “Why?”

“The video game. I promised I’d play with you.”

“Don’t be stupid, Taehyung-ie,” Seokjin laughed quietly. “There’ll be enough time for me to wipe the floor with you once you feel better.”

Taehyung tried to wait up for the soup, promising himself to at least try to eat it, if only to respect Seokjin’s efforts, but the heavy weight on his eyes was faster in the end.

He barely remembered being woken up, a spoon at his lips, pills, water. He remembered whispering voices, Seokjin and … Jimin? Hoseok?

He remembered forehead touches, shivering, words of comfort. He didn’t remember much more.

The next day was Taehyung’s body revenging itself for maltreatment. He knew. There was no other explanation for the throbbing headache and the bone-deep exhaustion after a full night’s sleep.

He barely managed to force himself to the kitchen for breakfast (and was promptly sent back by Seokjin, who followed him with a breakfast-in-bed-menu a couple minutes later, somehow equipped enough to be his own revenge for days of Taehyung not feeding himself). From then on, it was a day of haggling with painkillers, praying for sweet oblivion in shape of sleep and mourning the break day that was spent miserably, really.

But he’d told Seokjin about his promise to Namjoon, and although the eldest was sceptical of Taehyung’s commitment at first, he was won over after Taehyung was denied social activities (in form of washing dishes with Jimin) and accepted his bedrest order without protest for the fifth time despite his obvious boredom. As a treat, Seokjin organized a game evening/night, roping in all the available members (all but Namjoon and Hoseok) with threats and promises. Starting easy with a couple rounds of a simple card game, going through a phase of Yoongi, Seokjin and Jungkook reenacting Hakuna Matata and ending with Taehyung passed out on the couch, it wasn’t too bad altogether.

(The night was a different story altogether.)

Taehyung opened his eyes to darkness – pitch black and freezing cold to his bones. He was lying in bed, then standing in his room, empty, void, desolate. Dark walls towering above, immovable –

Alone – he ran, shivering like a shaven lamb in snow, his teeth chattering, his lungs squeezing with the same rhythm. He ran – he had to find them –

He stumbled, fell, the cold rushing past him – through him, pulling at his soul –

He froze mid-air as the world around him started to fall instead, his bed, his books, a cupboard, his desk, the walls, all falling.

Then –

Jimin, screaming, Namjoon reaching out, Hoseok and Jungkook asleep, whizzing past him, Seokjin laughing cluelessly –

Yoongi, reaching out, eyes wide, mouth small, “Help -”

Taehyung opened his eyes to his room.

The door opened. On its own. Cold air against his arms, voices calling him out –

He stumbled, grabbing the door frame for support – the hallway was empty, all the doors closed, a fraction of light only illuminating shadows. He stepped out, called out for anyone, but the rooms were empty, doors open and dark, there was no one, they were gone, Yoongi was dead –

Taehyung opened his eyes again.

He finally made it to the hallway, still panting and shivering from the cold. His clothes were sticking to his body, sweat both hot and cold as he wrapped his arms himself, flaring up new sensations of damp cloth against his skin-

The dark hallway once again deserted like a ghost city in the dark, a dim light barely enough for Taehyung’s eyes to see.

A couple shaky steps – and he found himself at Yoongi’s door. He knocked. Nothing. Taehyung’s head leant against the cold wood, harder than planned. “Hyung?”

Nothing.

He pushed the handle down with thumping heart beats.

Empty.

Windows opened wide, letting in the cold air, flaring up the curtains like ominous covers of evil –

Taehyung was cold.

Yoongi wasn’t here. He wasn’t back. Was he – did he fall? Did Taehyung kill him? Or the darkness? Which death was a dream? People only died once, right?

A couple steps, and he was at Namjoon’s door. He didn’t bother knocking.

Empty.

Chaos, like someone had dragged every piece of Namjoon out of the room, like Namjoon had fought tooth and nail –

Jimin – he had to find Jimin, or – or Jungkook, or Seokjin, or Hoseok – anyone – where were they? Where was Yoongi?

Sudden light flooded the hall as Taehyung stood, frozen in fear, bright enough to blind him completely, a shadow –

“Taehyung?”

The voice was in his brain, coming from another dimension, he couldn’t place it –

“Taehyung-ie? Are you okay?” Hoseok. Closer now, more real.

Taehyung forced his eyes open, blinking as his eyes tried to adjust.

“You shouldn’t be up, you don’t look good.”

“Where’s Yoongi?” Taehyung asked once his eyes adjusted to the light.

Hoseok frowned. “He should be inside. What do you need him for?”

Taehyung looked away as the lights started to hurt his head. It was about to burst, and Taehyung still felt like he was about to wake up again. “He’s not here – they are not here.”

“Oh? Are you sure? I -”

Taehyung shook his head – stopped abruptly as his head throbbed again. “I checked. They are gone.”

“But they were -”

“No. They are gone.” Taehyung said again. He’d stopped shivering. Maybe he was dying. But he didn’t care. Hoseok would hate him, once he understood. “They are dead.”

There was silence. Always, always silence. Hoseok was gone, too. Taehyung wished he wasn’t, even if he hated Taehyung for killing Yoongi. And Namjoon. He deserved it.

“What the fuck, Taehyung?”

Oh. He was still here.

“Did you just say – You had a nightmare, right? That’s what you meant – please tell me you’re not sleep walking?” Then, a beat later, softly, “Hey, are you crying?”

Taehyung looked up. Hoseok’s silhouette was closer, reaching out for Taehyung’s arm with shaky hands, just short of touching.

Taehyung frowned. It wasn’t making any sense.

Hoseok drew back. Then – “Hyung.” Again, louder. “Yoongi-hyung. Guys!”

It was futile. Taehyung had already called – they were dead. Dead people didn’t come just because they were called.

The door leading to the kitchen swung open. “If it’s another spider, you know it’s Jimin’s job – oh, Taehyung?”

Yoongi. Alive. In a pair of sweaters, the ones with paint splattered all over them –

“Taehyung?”

Yoongi. It was really him. Looking back and forth between Taehyung and Hoseok.

Taehyung was too scared to move, too scared of waking up again, but maybe he could make it real, if he caught Yoongi before he fell again, maybe he could save him –

“Easy,” Hoseok had grabbed his arm before Taehyung could stumble onto the ground – Hoseok’s grip was firm, despite the shaken expression on his face, the sensation was cold, but his hands were warm.

Oh. This was real.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi was right next to him, a worried frown on his face, and if Hoseok was real, maybe Yoongi was, too-

Slowly, carefully Taehyung reached his arms around Yoongi, who carefully went into it the hug. “Taehyung-ah? Did you have a nightmare?”

He was real. His shoulders, his arms on Taehyung’s back, his chin resting on Taehyung’s shoulders, the smell of the shampoo Taehyung stole every time he ran out of his own – He was real.

Taehyung breathed. “You fell,” he whispered, not daring to speak louder.

“You caught me,” Yoongi whispered back immediately, tightening his grip. “You caught me. You saved me. I’m safe now.”

Taehyung nodded, but made no move of letting go. He just stood there, leaning more into Yoongi with every breath.

“Hob-ah, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Yoongi chuckled over Taehyung, keeping him up without a protest. The vibration passing through Taehyung released another knot in his heart with every word.

“To be honest, I’m not. I am very much freaked out. I want a hug, too.”

Yoongi snorted, before turning to Taehyung’s ear once again. “What do you say, Taehyung-ie? Do we have enough space for Hob-ie?”

Taehyung barely registered any words over Yoongi’s breaths and his own heart beating, but he tightened his grip when Yoongi started loosening his.

“Whoops. I guess that’s a no.” Yoongi sounded surprised, but not bothered. “Sorry, Hob-ah.”

“I can hug you!” Someone said, and Hoseok laughed, and a part of Taehyung was relieved, but he didn’t even open his eyes to check himself.

Yoongi never made him let go.

Instead, he guided them into the living room, onto the couch, laying Taehyung down so he could lean against Yoongi, all without fully pulling away his hands.

Other voices entered the room, bleed into each other, talking about him and breakfast and weeks and work and news, but he heard each of his six brothers at least once, and that was enough.

There wasn’t a drop of fear left when a blanket landed on his back once he’d settled into a lying position, his head on Yoongi’s thigh, and the familiar sounds lulled him back to sleep.

The next day was better, in that Taehyung slept enough for three days (although it felt like he’d pulled an all-nighter) and wasn’t aware enough to understand the passage of time and was therefore only mildly bored at any point of time. (And highly pained, but stay positive, right?) (He was having nightmares, judging by his rapid breathing after waking up, and Seokjin’s saddened eyes next to him, but he didn’t remember most of them, so that didn’t count either.)

‘It’s going to get better’ became a new chorus in their home, whether Taehyung was listening or not. But it got worse.

Chapter Text

When he opened his eyes, he was in his own bed. He remembered falling asleep elsewhere, though the details were hazy.

But this was definitely his room, his brown curtains letting in faint morning rays onto his desk. He shifted slightly, only to wake his body, get a sense of himself –

Oh. Still sweaty. And sticky. Cold, though his face was burning. A little hungry, way more nauseous. A full bladder. Still dead exhausted.

He sighed, pushed himself up on sore arms, almost falling back halfway. Only in his pause he registered the faint snore in the room.

He looked around – and yep, that was Jimin’s messy shock of hair on top of that figure draped over the bean bag at the feet of Taehyung’s bed.

Taehyung frowned. Jimin wasn’t particularly a fan of the bean bag, opting for the bed whenever he could, halving Taehyung’s space without a second thought if necessary.

“Jimin?”

The snoring stopped, but Jimin didn’t stir. “Hm?”

“Watcha doing?”

“Sleeping,” came the mumbled response.

“Why are you not here?”

“Jin-hyung said no.”

“Why?”

Jimin huffed annoyedly. “I could get sick.”

“Oh.” That made sense. Taehyung felt sick. He raised his hand to his forehead. His face was burning, but his hand was cold, and it was confusing him. “Jimin?” He started again.

“Yes?” Jimin hissed impatiently.

“Why are you here?”

“You were having nightmares. We didn’t want you to be alone,” he trailed off into a mumble.

“We?”

“Namjoon and Yoongi wanted, too. But they have to work early, so hyung said no.”

Taehyung hummed. “What work? I thought the MVs are over?”

Jimin huffed harshly, probably making his nose flare like he was holding back a snap. “Dunno, Taehyung.”

Taehyung stared at his friend, hoping to see his face, but Jimin was angled away, and stubbornly asleep still. “What’s up with you? It’s almost morning, you’ll get up in a few minutes anyway. Why so grumpy?”

Jimin groaned, finally moving – turning away from Taehyung. “I’m sleeping in today. Namjoon made me plan my whole life till shit past midnight, and I’m tired.”

“Go to your own bed then –”

“Kook-ie will kill me if I leave you alone and not wake him, and he’s not gonna wake up anyway –”

“Oh. But I’m fine-”

“Kim Taehyung!”

Taehyung almost flinched at the sudden volume and movement. Jimin hadn’t turned, but his hand had shot out and grabbed the bean bag like he was about to pull it from under himself and fling it at Taehyung. “Do you want to eat?”

“No,” Taehyung answered obediently.

“Do you need the bathroom?”

He did. “Yes.”

Jimin’s tone switched to something more neutral. “You need help getting there?”

Taehyung felt his cheeks flush over the fever. “I’m fine.” He’d take a little longer to get there, but he didn’t need a babysitter for that.

“Then why. Are you. Still talking?! Let me sleep or I’ll drown you.”

Taehyung blinked. Then chuckled. “Sorry, princess.”

Jimin mumbled something angrily as he curled further into the bean bag and started snoring almost immediately.

Taehyung grinned.

His friends were stupid.

After another day of less than half awareness and more than a double headache, it became clear that Jimin wasn’t exaggerating. The council had gathered and decided that Taehyung wasn’t to be left alone. Amongst the rotation and Taehyung’s brain working part-time, Taehyung only realised when the evening had proceeded enough for a reasonable hour for sleep to arrive and he found Seokjin preparing another mattress squeezed in between his bed and the wall on the far side of the door.

“Hyung?” he asked, stopping in his tracks, causing Hoseok to almost run into him, his pillow and blanket tucked under his arm.

“Jimin said you were sleeping restlessly, so we thought it would be best if someone sleeps here with you overnight.”

Taehyung frowned. He was trying hard not to protest to anything, he didn’t have the energy either most of the time, but this seemed like an unnecessary bother to everyone involved. “No.”

Seokjin’s eyes hardened, but Hoseok was faster. “Come on, Taetae, I know you love sleepovers,” he nudged Taehyung from the side with a cheery smile, but sobered up as Taehyung didn’t give in. “Taehyung-ah, you really scared me the other night, when you walked around like that. What if you have another nightmare? Besides, you are a little unsteady on your feet right now, yeah? It would really make us feel better if you had someone to ask for help, just in case you need anything. You don’t have to take the help, but you would have the option.”

Taehyung looked at Hoseok’s soft and hopeful face, then at the pillow he’d been too weak to carry on his own. He pulled it out of Hoseok’s hand, who let go immediately, and laid down in his bed, turning away with a scowl.

Hoseok sighed. “Thanks, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung opened his eyes, pulse racing, hands cold and sweaty. His heart was squeezing, he felt like someone had died. It was dark, it was night, and Taehyung didn’t remember.

Tears sprang into his eyes without a cause. He tried to bring his hand up, but it was held back, something was holding his hand down, a weight, on all his body – Oh. His own bones and flesh. Still sick. Still weak.

He took a couple deliberate breaths, forcing his racing heart to calm down.

He dragged himself onto his side – and found himself looking at Hoseok’s peaceful face, the hair falling across his eyes, the regular breaths moving his whole figure. The sight pulled Taehyung slowly back into reality, where the terrors of his dream were just that. Bad dreams.

He reached for Hoseok, without a real purpose other than making sure he was real and corporal and not wishful thinking, but his hand only made it halfway before it flopped down lifelessly, softly hitting against the side of his bed.

The peaceful expression twitched, and Hoseok opened his eyes.

Taehyung froze.

But Hoseok wasn’t fooled. “Taehyung? Are you awake?” He whispered into the dark.

Taehyung hesitated, then hummed.

Hoseok made a soft sound. “Did you have another nightmare?”

“I don’t remember.”

Hoseok let out a long breath before he pulled himself into a sitting position. He reached for Taehyung’s exposed arm and carefully placed it back onto Taehyung’s bed.

His fingers left goosebumps on Taehyung’s skin.

“How are you feeling?”

Inexplicably, Taehyung teared up again. He didn’t feel much different, compared to the day before, but under the dim light of his room, in the middle of the night, everything seemed worse. “Everything hurts.”

Hoseok reached out again, with a sad expression, hand landing on Taehyung’s forehead, pushing away his sticky hair.

Taehyung closed his eyes and leaned into it.

“I wish I could make it stop.”

Taehyung hummed shakily. He knew.

Hoseok shifted. “Is there anything you want? I have water here, I think we have some juice left in the kitchen, too… Or the bathroom? Maybe you’ll feel better if you wash your face?”

Taehyung opened his eyes as he considered his options. He wasn’t thirsty, and too lazy for the bathroom. But… “Do we have food? I think I’m hungry.”

Hoseok’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, Seokjin made chicken soup, if you want. Or the Yoongi’s vegetable stew from yesterday. There’s also rice, and fried vegetables, I think -” He seemed exited, and Taehyung smiled, though he couldn’t understand the reason.

“Chicken soup, please,” Taehyung said, once Hoseok finished his list.

“Okay, I’ll heat it right up,” He climbed to his feet, catching himself on Taehyung’s bed, making it dip under his weight. “Seokjin’s going to be so happy that you finally ate something. You’ll be okay on your own for a couple minutes, right?”

Taehyung nodded tiredly. He’d prefer not to be alone, but his stomach was revolting against the hunger.

Despite his concerns though, Hoseok was back in a blink – or Taehyung had dazed off again. It didn’t matter. The important thing was the bowls on the tray, even more than Hoseok’s low chatter. “Sorry it took so long, I burned my finger a little on the pot, and I brought rice, too, just in case you feel up for some calories, too.”

The soup was steaming in the additional light of the hallway, Seokjin’s signature medicine broth that Taehyung knew so well –

His stomach lurched as the sharp smell hit his nose. The colour seemed unsavoury to say the least, the tiny bubbles, the shapes, it was off-putting, and Taehyung shrank away despite himself. He didn’t want it, he wanted it gone –

Hoseok sat down at his side, his hip touching Taehyung’s knee over the cover, placed the tray between them.

Taehyung couldn’t fathom why he had asked for this, much less ever eaten it.

“Taehyung-ah?” Hoseok asked, confusion written on his face.

Taehyung’s vision blurred.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Taehyung?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered. “I’m sorry, hyung, I know you’re taking care of me…” He sniffed, eyes again on the thick brown liquid in his lap, almost making himself gag.

“Taehyung-ah, come on, tell me what’s wrong. You were fine a second ago.”

“Hyung, I don’t think I can eat this.”

Hoseok blinked, down to the bowl, and back up again. The worry was gone, but he visibly deflated as he understood. “Oh… And the rice?”

Taehyung didn’t even have to shake his head.

“Do you think you could eat Yoongi’s stew? Or -” He interrupted himself as Taehyung sniffed again.

“Oh, Taehyung-ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll heat up something else, and if you don’t eat it, that’s okay, too. You know I only want to help, make you feel better, not worse.”

Taehyung swallowed. “But I made you get up for this. In the middle of the night. And - and you burned your hand -”

“No, I didn’t really – it hurt just for a second.”

“You’re trying to take care of me, but I can’t even- hyung, I’m sorry, but I can’t eat it, it looks disgusting, I think I’ll puke -”

“Then don’t,” Hoseok’s voice was firm now. He took the tray with both hands, and placed it on the floor, out of sight, then scooted closer. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah. You don’t have to eat.”

“But I woke you up for nothing -”

Hoseok put his hands on Taehyung’s arms, firmly rubbing up and down. “It’s not for nothing. You asked me for something that might help you get better, and I had a chance to do something for you. Even if you didn’t eat it in the end, it was worth a try. And besides, look at us. We’re having a nice chat. I didn’t get to spend time with you for days now. It’s nice.”

Taehyung looked up. He couldn’t see any signs of a lie, but he knew he wouldn’t be convinced if his brain was really working.

“It’s worth it, Taehyung. Anything that might help, is worth it.”

Taehyung considered it. “Really?” It might be. He really wanted to get better.

“Of course!”

Taehyung nodded slowly. “Thank you, hyung.”

Hoseok smiled. “Always.” He sighed as he looked down at the tray. “Let’s not tell Seokjin that you called it disgusting, though.”

Taehyung nodded, regret rising once again. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

Hoseok nodded woefully. “It smells delicious.”

Taehyung grimaced, remembering his own associations once the smell had hit. “You eat it, then.”

Hoseok raised his brows, then looked down, considering it. “I could, I guess.” He looked up again. “Are you sure you won’t eat? Nothing at all?”

Taehyung nodded firmly.

Hoseok sighed and reached down, then straightened with the bowl and spoon. He gave it a regretful swirl. “It would have been a good meal for you. You haven’t eaten anything besides those crackers.”

The doubts seemed to flow off his mind as he took a breath in the steam, a small smile making its way on his face. “Seokjin-hyung is so good.” And he brought the spoon to his mouth, one after another. Until he froze halfway.

Taehyung looked up as he realized he’d been tracking the motions of each spoon approaching Hoseok.

Hoseok tilted his head, sudden pleading eyes appearing out of nowhere. “Just one? For hyung?”

Taehyung looked back at the spoon that had already started approaching. It didn’t look too bad now. He opened his mouth –

It wasn’t good, not really, weird and alien in his mouth, the residue of the oily texture too prominent – but it wasn’t horrible either. And anything less than horrible he would endure if it brought him closer to the end of this torture.

The second spoon was already waiting.

He only took a couple more, and one try of the rice before his stomach protested for real, but Hoseok was smiling, so maybe it was enough for now.

They did have a scary trip to the bathroom, but it turned out to be a false alarm, and Taehyung was still smiling as they prepared to sleep again. “Hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we had a chat, too.”

“Good.” Hoseok’s voice was like light for his ears, brightening Taehyung’s mind like rows of sunshine. “Being happy enhances your recovery speed. You’ll be better in no time.”

Taehyung nodded, and almost let himself relax into the darkness as he remembered something else. “Is Namjoon going to be home tomorrow?”

Hoseok sighed. “He’ll leave early in the morning. And probably be late in the evening.”

“Oh.” Taehyung stared at the dark textures on the wall. “I think I haven’t seen him since the MVs.” Three days already? Four?

“He was there when you came to the living room after your nightmare, don’t you remember? And he came by your room several times. Waited with Jimin for a bit, and tonight, too, with me. He’s working a lot though, and he’s not allowed to sleep here if he’s getting less than five hours of sleep.”

“Because I’ll disturb his sleep?”

Another sigh. “Because it won’t do either of you any good. But let’s call him, tomorrow, when you’re awake, okay? And I’ll write him now to try to wake you when he’s leaving in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay. But now you’ve got to sleep.”

“Okay, hyung-ie. Good night.”

“Good night, Taehyung. Sleep well.”

There was no Namjoon the next day. Just a couple voicemails instead.

Hey, Taehyung. How are you? I tried calling, but you’re probably asleep. Sorry I couldn’t stop by your room this morning. I didn’t hear my alarm, and didn’t even have time for breakfast, and I thought you’d appreciate your sleep over seeing me for, like, two seconds, so I let you sleep. I did try to wake you last night when I came home, so that one’s on you. A chuckle. I’ll be late again today. A heavy sigh. There’s a lot to do around here. I wish I could be home with you guys. Maybe you’ll feel better by tomorrow, and we can have breakfast together.

Ah, I forgot to ask. Do you want anything? I can buy it on my way home. Hyung said you’re not eating much. If there’s anything you want, just text me. You can call, too, of course, but I might be in a meeting. How about strawberries? You like them. It’s not the season, but I’ll try to find some. Tell me if there’s anything else.

Chapter Text

Kim Namjoon Kim Seokjin Min Yoongi Jung Hoseok Park Jimin Kim Taehyung Jeon Jungkook BTS

A border, a safe line out of their names around Taehyung, keeping him guarded and secure. There were beasts on the outside, abominations, monsters, pacing and growling, but the sigil written in Namjoon’s handwriting, the readable one, for strangers who weren’t used to his scrawl, was keeping them at bay, so that Taehyung could play with his toys without sparing them another glance.

He was glad, he was happy, he was home and safe and entertained, until a part of his soul just fell off his chest and vanished. He looked around, trying to find it –

A friend. Someone looking at him from the outside, a chubby kid in a grade school uniform, a plushie in his hand, a face that should be lit up with dimples but was teary and flushed – Namjoon. And he was on the other side of the line.

Taehyung’s blood froze.

The kid was looking at him with fear in his eyes, his chin wobbling, mouth pressed into a thin unstable line. “Can you please let me in?”

Taehyung ran, fell on his knees right in front of Namjoon, tried to smudge the letters enough to let him in, enough to protect him, he didn’t care that he might not be able to restore it, he didn’t want to be safe when Namjoon wasn’t, but they weren’t just written on the ground anymore, they were engraved, still in Namjoon’s neat handwriting but set in stone, indestructible, shielding Taehyung, and Taehyung only.

“Why did you kick me out? I’m scared, hyung-ie.”

Taehyung tried again, he clawed at the engravings with bloody fingers and broken nails, tried to scrape it, disfigure the letters enough to lift the protective wall around him.

A huge dog approached behind Namjoon, more than ten times the boy’s size, fletching its teeth as drops of drool as big as Namjoon’s head dripped down, but Namjoon was still staring at Taehyung, clenching his plushie with quivering lips and Taehyung couldn’t warn him, his mouth wasn’t moving, he was frozen, petrified –

The monster charged, his teeth shining white and wet, Namjoon was gone –

Yoongi was falling, eyes wide, mouth small, helpless like a toddler as he fell of the cliff, Taehyung watched from across, the figure of his friend, arms and legs arched upward, torso crashing against the rocks –

With a loud gasp, Taehyung was sitting upright in his bed, Jungkook in a similar position on the bean bag across the room with wide, panicked eyes, a game console hanging forgotten in his hand.

“What happened?”

Taehyung – Taehyung was fighting for breath, his heart pressing against his ribcage like a base speaker in a concert, about to burst through his skin –

“Hyung, what’s - did you have a bad dream?”

A dream? Taehyung didn’t know – he had – he wanted – he needed Namjoon. He had to see – Oh God. Yoongi had fallen into the river, right? He was – he had to find –

He pushed his blanket away, almost losing his balance –

Jungkook appeared right beside him in an instant, both grounding him and holding him down. “Taehyung-hyung. Talk to me. What do you need? Bathroom? Are you going to throw up?”

Taehyung shook his head. Jungkook didn’t know, didn’t understand. He needed Yoongi.

He tried to shake off Jungkook, tried to stand up, but Jungkook was stronger.

Hands guided his shoulders, turned him, and he was forced to meet a pair of scared but firm eyes. “Hyung. Tell me what you need.”

“Yoongi,” Taehyung heard his own voice rasp, still out of breath. “Where is he? Is he okay? Namjoon?”

Jungkook seemed to relax. Why? “They’re fine, hyung. They’re at work. But they’re fine. We sent them off, just a couple hours ago.”

No. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t. “I need to see them.” He tried to stand again, against Jungkook’s grip on his shoulder. “Where is he? I – I need to see -”

“You need to calm down. It’s okay. I promise, it was just a bad dream. Whatever you saw, it was just a nightmare.”

Jungkook didn’t know. He didn’t know Taehyung had pushed Yoongi. He hadn’t been there. But Taehyung couldn’t explain – his mind was – there were only two names: Yoongi and Namjoon. “Please…”

Jungkook’s gaze faltered. “We could – we could try to call them, I guess? But they might not pick up.”  He was already reaching for his phone. “Namjoon-hyung said something about a meeting. With Europeans or something.” He looked up, eyes firm once again. “I will call them, hyung, but they might not pick up. And they will still be fine, okay? Don’t panic if they don’t pick up.”

Taehyung nodded vigorously, grabbing Jungkook’s free wrist.

Jungkook sighed, putting the phone on speaker and waited.

It rang. And rang. And rang. “The number you have dialled -”

Despite himself, Taehyung’s heartbeat picked up again.

Jungkook realized immediately. “I told you, he might be in -”

“Call Yoongi. Please, Jungkook, please.”

Jungkook took a laboured breath. “Hyung, I will. I promise, I will call as many times as you want. But please, calm down. They are fine, it was just a dream.” He put the phone on speaker again, this time with Yoongi’s name on the display.

It rang. And rang. And –

“Jungkook-ah? What’s up?” Yoongi. It was Yoongi. Alive.

Tension fell off Taehyung’s muscles like a puppet losing its strings. Jungkook threw him a worried look. “Hyung, do you have a minute? Taehyung-hyung just woke up, and we wanted to check in with you, hear your voice.”

“Of course. Taehyung-ah, everything alright? How are you feeling?”

Taehyung took the phone from Jungkook. “Hyung.” His voice was still shaking.

“That doesn’t sound good. Did you have another nightmare?”

Taehyung clutched the phone. “I thought – I saw you fall. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung-ah. You caught me, remember? I’m fine.”

Taehyung remembered. Still. “And Namjoon? He’s fine, too?”

Yoongi chuckled. “He’s alive and uninjured, but I don’t think he’d be using ‘fine’ to describe his situation right now.”

“Why?” Jungkook leaned in.

“He’s stuck with some European journalists without a stable internet connection, and it’s probably going to take at least one more hour. It’s a pretty ‘not fine’ situation if you ask me.”

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “True words.”

Yoongi sighed. “And he’s thinking about you, too, Taehyung. He tried to wake you this morning, but you were too out of it, so you probably don’t remember.”

“Oh.”

“But he brought you strawberries, look,” Jungkook nodded towards a plate of strawberries on the nightstand. “Want some? Fruits are healthy, and you haven’t eaten much yesterday either.”

Taehyung smiled. It made him feel warmer, despite the constant chill on his body. Namjoon had been here, even if Taehyung didn’t remember.

But he shook his head. They looked good, but not good like food was supposed to look. “Tell him I said thank you.” Then he reached for the biggest one, with the darkest, healthiest colour, the one he would have picked if his brain had been normal and not too messed up to eat his favourite fruit. “This one’s for him. Give it to him.”

He held it out for Jungkook, who took it with a small smile. “I’ll make sure he eats it.”

Taehyung nodded and opened his eyes against his eyelids with steadily increasing weight.

“Taehyung-ie-hyung, you can lie back down if you want to.”

Taehyung wanted to, very much. His body ached, like he’d been dancing for days straight. “But I want to talk to hyung,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. Namjoon really can’t, right now.”

“It’s okay,” Taehyung pushed, even as he did lower himself back into his bed. “You. I can listen to you.”

“Oh,” Yoongi chuckled. “You sound tired though. You want me to tell you about my day so far? Maybe it’ll bore you to sleep.”

Taehyung nodded.

“Yeah, bore us to sleep, Suga-hyung!” Jungkook laughed.

And with Yoongi’s voice in his ear, it wasn’t that difficult to find back to sleep.

“Kook-ie?”

“Hmm?”

Taehyung frowned at the empty ceiling. He’d been staring at it a lot, these days. He loved the stars they had glued up there, but right now, they were a mirror, stuck to the ceiling like he was stuck in his bed. “Someone came by, earlier, right? Strangers? Asked questions, about what year it is and stuff?”

“Do you mean the medics?”

Taehyung turned to Jungkook leaning against the wall on the other bed.

“Namjoon-hyung was already in touch with them. He was worried, because you’re sleeping so much, and the medics wanted to check.”

“What did they say?”

“That it’s because of the nightmares, probably. And the nightmares are because of the fever. You’re not really getting sleep, so your body keeps trying. Or something.”

Taehyung looked up again. His head was clear, mostly, but lazy. He couldn’t think a lot. “This sucks.”

Jungkook sighed. “It does.”

Taehyung stared at the stars. His eyes went from one to the other, counting them without numbers. Up to down. Left to right. Up –

“I’m bored.”

Taehyung turned his head to give Jungkook a dry look.

A small smirk greeted back. “It’s boring when you’re sleeping all the time. Nothing fun around here.”

“You can leave.”

“It’s okay. It’s better to be bored with you than without.”

Taehyung huffed. “Can’t say the same about you. Sorry.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Well, I’ll be leaving in a bit, anyway. You can continue vegetating away with Jimin-hyung.”

True. Still. Taehyung turned at the ceiling pettily. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

Taehyung frowned, looked back. He was right, Jungkook was averting his eyes guiltily.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Come on, tell me. I’m bored anyway.”

“It sucks that you’re stuck here, though.” Jungkook scowled at Taehyung’s bed, like it had captured Taehyung and wasn’t returning him.

Or maybe it just felt that way for Taehyung. He didn’t have the energy to do something about it. “Well, when you’re sick, I’ll be bragging about the stuff you don’t get to do, anyway. Just tell me. Is it something fun?”

Jungkook shrugged, hesitantly. “I have to go to the company first. But then, Jin-hyung told me to come to…”

Taehyung didn’t even have enough of his mind to picture the things Jungkook was talking about, so it was probably for the best he stayed, anyway.

Cold. Cold. I’m cold.

There was nothing but cold. There was Jimin, too, spouting words Taehyung didn’t care about, and Hoseok, cruelly keeping away the only object worthy of any space in his frozen brain: a hot water bottle.

They let Taehyung ask, shiver, beg, like it didn’t matter.

He could do nothing but curl up in his sitting position, leaning forward over his legs until his head was almost touching the blanket, his arms pressed against his body and his muscles stiff from cold and shaking uncontrollably and hurting like he’d gotten a beating, until a thought shot through his brain like lightening through a snowstorm.

Namjoon. Namjoon would believe him. Namjoon would help.

“N-namjoon,” he stuttered, between his own shaky wheezes, interrupting Jimin trying to convince him of something.

“What?”

He raised his head, and a hand on his forehead made him twitch – it was warm, sure, but every inch of his skin he could feel felt like ice, like it was coming from his bones, like he could be thrown into the sun and the sun would grow cold. “I want-t Namjoon.”

Jimin drew back, almost offended. “Namjoon? What’s Namjoon going to –”

Taehyung glowered at him, as much as he could. Namjoon would listen, he would believe him, when he said he was cold. He wanted to scream, just in case Namjoon was somewhere nearby, but it was just too cold.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

They turned to Hoseok in unison at the incredulous note in his voice.

Hoseok’s eyes were wide as he looked at Taehyung and back to the phone on his nightstand. “How did you know?”

Taehyung shivered, I’m cold, I’m so cold, why won’t you do something?!

“Namjoon’s calling, right now, how did you know?”

Namjoon. Namjoon would help – with sudden fear of the others stopping him, Taehyung lunged for the phone, ignoring the movement sending chills down his muscles, barely caught himself from falling from the bed, pulled it back between surprised yelps and immediately curled up against the headboard. “Hyung?”

“Woah, Taehyung, you’re up-” Namjoon’s voice was smiling, but Taehyung was still shaking with the blizzard in his chest.

“Hyung, I’m cold – I’m too cold, they won’t believe me –” There was protest, somewhere, but Taehyung tuned everything out – he was cold enough as is.

“What? Who?” Namjoon sounded indignant enough, so Taehyung continued.

“The others, hyung, I’m so cold – t-tell them to give me the bottle, please -”

“Put me on speaker.”

Taehyung relaxed as he listened to the voice on autopilot, despite the rigor in his muscles, because everyone listened to that leader-voice.

“What’s going on?”

Hoseok answered, because he, too, answered to that voice, said something about the fever and medics and Seokjin on a walk or something – but Taehyung was focussed on the bottle in his hands –

“Taehyung. Are you sure you’re cold?”

“Yes, hyung, I’m freezing, it’s cold –” Please please please.

“Give it to him.”

Jimin protested, but it didn’t matter, because Hoseok hesitantly reached out the bottle, and Taehyung immediately snatched it from his hold –

It was radiating, like sunshine against frozen limbs, like light at the end of a tunnel that didn’t really come closer, but at least it was there. Taehyung pressed it against his chest, curled up around it with a painful and relieved and shivering groan. It wasn’t enough, his teeth were still chattering, he wished he could turn it into a blanket –

“Jin-hyung said he might overheat…” But Jimin sounded unsure, rightfully so, because Taehyung felt like crying as he shifted, trying to press the source of warmth against every square of his body.

“He still might, so keep an eye on his fever. But as long as he’s awake and responsive, we can listen to him. It probably won’t affect him much anyway. But Taehyung, it’s best you don’t fall asleep with it, so they’ll take it away once you do, okay?”

Taehyung tightened his grip, but whispered to his phone, even as he threw Jimin a glare. “Thank you.”

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re welcome, Taehyung-ah. But you know the others mean well, right? Everyone just wants to do what’s best for you.”

But they hadn’t believed him. Only Namjoon had. Taehyung made a non-committal sound.

“Oh, and Taehyung? Now that you’re awake, maybe you could try drink some soup? That way you could try to warm up from the inside, too.”

Taehyung had been about to protest again, but the promise of warmth, directly imported into his body... The violent shaking was over, but he was still cold under the covers...

Someone chuckled. “He’s glaring angrily at his hands, I think that’s a ‘yes’.” Hoseok. “Oops, now he’s glaring at me.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes as he tried to relax in his stiff position without letting go of the hot bottle. Every bone in his body hurt, every joint, and he’d been clenching every muscle he could feel as he’d tried to warm up, he wanted it to stop, he wanted to sleep, he wanted his brain to wake up and start working –

His blanket slipped. He sucked in a shaky breath at the cool air on his sweaty skin, and it was pulled up again immediately, by Jimin. The traitor.

But Jimin just squinted back with the same petty anger as he hissed. “I’ll take that bottle back the second Namjoon’s off the phone.”

“Woah, Jimin-ie,” Hoseok laughed again, “we’re not threatening our sick friends, are we? That’s not nice...” He started guiding Jimin out the room over his protests about ‘trying to bring Taehyung’s temperature down for days, and now this’.

“Taehyung-ah. Do you think you’re up for a video call? We haven’t talked in days.”

It took Taehyung a moment to understand what Namjoon was asking, and a couple more to fumble with the phone until he could prop it up on his knees without having to use much of the strength already leaving him again.

Namjoon was sitting in his studio, leaning back on his chair. He looked tired, but he smiled as Taehyung turned on his camera. “There you are. Are you feeling better, now?”

Taehyung shrugged. He was sitting in his bed, bundled up under his blankets, and still cold. Technically better than the icy feeling in his body from minutes ago, but not by much.

Namjoon frowned. “Anything I can do? Anyone can do? Do you want something?”

Taehyung shook his head once, and once exactly, because he didn’t want to move unnecessarily. He was tired. From the shaking, and in general. “You?”

Namjoon tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“How are you?”

Namjoon chuckled. “I’m good, thanks.” His smile made Taehyung’s head hurt. “I have a break now. And I finally got to talk to you, so that’s nice.”

Taehyung frowned. “You’re lying.”

Namjoon’s expression changed. “I’m not lying, Taehyung.” He sounded sad. “I told you before, but you probably don’t remember, I’m really sorry I can’t stay with you longer. I know you’ve been asking –”

Taehyung shook his head. That wasn’t what he meant. He looked up, checked his room, made sure the others had left. Then he returned to the screen. “You can say the truth, you know? There’s no one here.” But Namjoon just frowned, so Taehyung asked again. “How are you?”

Namjoon smiled again, and it hurt a little less. “You’re here,” he said, like he’d caught Taehyung’s mistake. “I’m good.”

Taehyung tilted his head. “But I’ll forget. Because I’m sick. I keep forgetting things.”

Namjoon chuckled. “You seem pretty awake this time, though. And I really hope you won’t forget the one time we finally got to talk.”

“I will,” Taehyung promised. He would. Where the cold slowly left his brain, the heavy fog was already seeping back in. “So, tell me the truth, hyung.”

Namjoon opened his mouth, then closed it again. He bit on his lips, then caught himself.

Taehyung waited.

“I… I’m tired, I guess.” He finally admitted, and this time, it was the truth, so it didn’t hurt Taehyung’s head. But his expression hurt Taehyung’s chest. “I’m really tired.”

Taehyung tried to hum, but it was quiet. “What else?”

Namjoon frowned again. Then shifted. Then sighed, deeply. “Nothing else. I’m too tired for anything else.” He smiled, but that one hurt the most. “I’m so fucking tired of everything, Taehyung.”

It seemed unfair. Taehyung spending days in his bed, and Namjoon being nothing but tired. Only tired. When he had so many things to be. When he deserved to be so much more.

“Then rest.”

Namjoon smiled again. “I am resting now. Like I said, I have a break. I’ll try to sleep in a bit. And I finally heard your voice, so I’m a little less worried now.”

Taehyung nodded, even as his own eyes stayed closed longer than they should. He felt better, too, after seeing Namjoon. “Sleep now, I’ll keep watch.”

Namjoon laughed. “How? You’re about to pass out yourself.”

Taehyung chuckled, not bothering to open his eyes. “I’m always keeping watch. My heart doesn’t sleep.”

The line went silent, so Taehyung pried one eye open.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide, glistening weirdly in the camera.

Taehyung frowned. “Sleep now.”

“I… I’m not good at sleeping these days, Taehyung.”

“That’s why I’m keeping watch.”

“You think it will help?”

Taehyung nodded.

Namjoon frowned, looked over his shoulder, where the couch was, and back. He chuckled. “Maybe it’s worth a try.” He chuckled again, with more heart this time. “I feel stupid.”

Taehyung smiled. Good. Feeling stupid was better than tired, especially if it made him laugh. Feeling stupid was feeling like a child, sometimes, and that was the best feeling anyway.

But Namjoon froze, eyes darting to the other side, “One sec, Taehyung,” and he muted himself.

Taehyung startled. He’d thought Namjoon was with him, he’d forgotten the distance and the phone, he’d stopped missing him for a minute, but now they were in different worlds. He frowned as he watched Namjoon turn, talk to someone off-camera, listen, talk again... The smile vanished, and his shoulders slouched.

“Hyung.” Taehyung called for the retreating child, but Namjoon ignored him, started frowning again. “Namjoon-hyung.”

Namjoon’s eyes darted to the camera and back, he nodded, waited, talked again. Rolled his eyes as he returned to the call. “Sorry, Taehyung.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. But I have to go now, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“No. You’re going to sleep – you need to sleep, hyung.”

Namjoon chuckled again, but this time, there was no heart at all. He chuckled like a robot. “Guess I don’t.” His eyes softened. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“No – I’ll tell on you if you don’t sleep now, hyung –”

Namjoon smiled distractedly, reaching for something behind the screen. “You promised to forget, remember?”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whined, because that usually helped, but Namjoon went on.

“I’ll text Hob-ah to take the hot water bottle, I bet he’s about to bring your soup anyway –”

“I’ll tell Jin-hyung.”

Namjoon pointed his finger at the camera sternly as he picked up his phone. “You promised to forget.” Then he waved. “See you – tomorrow? Hopefully? I’ll be late tonight.”

And then the call was gone.

It took Hoseok a couple more minutes. The cold left.

Jimin came back, too, and Taehyung tightened his grip on the bottle, just because. Jimin squinted.

Taehyung glared back.

He couldn’t eat. But he fell asleep.

And he forgot.

Chapter Text

Awareness was a slippery blessing, Taehyung noted, while washing his hands. The person in the bathroom mirror was a miserable stranger, though it had to be him. The ashen complexion, sunken cheeks, haunted eyes in the familiar frame were from another dimension, another universe… Only one of them should be real, right?

But more important things should worry him, like the fact that he didn’t remember coming here in the first place. It didn’t. Worry him. He knew, in the back of his head, someone would come if he called for help. (Jimin, maybe? It might have been Jimin sitting in his room with a phone in his hand, keeping him company while he was too tired to speak, and too sick to sleep.) Even if Taehyung did fall over, like his body wanted him to, someone would find him.

That’s why he didn’t care that he was aware right now, or might not be in a couple minutes.

He did care about voices that flooded him once he stepped back into the hallway, though.

They seemed red, climbing on top of each other – not peaceful like an orchestra – fighting, his brain supplied seconds later. They were fighting.

He ignored Jimin calling him as he stepped past his room’s door, dragging his feet forward one by one. He had to stop them. Red was not a nice colour to speak in. And someone had asked him to, maybe in a dream.

He pressed the door to the kitchen open, where the voices seemed to come from, now reduced to one bright colour like a warning sign. Or like blood. Or a red apple.

The door stopped after only a couple centimetres, digging against someone’s back – Jungkook.

Taehyung remembered, as Jungkook turned to face him with wide, tense eyes. Jungkook had asked him, in the dream, asked him to wake up, to stop them.

But Jungkook wasn’t involved now. He stepped aside, reaching out to support Taehyung if needed, but his focus was already back on the events in the kitchen.

Seokjin’s voice shone the loudest, the reddest, the most. It was everywhere, like angry little soldiers beating on the same target.

Taehyung looked around – Hoseok was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at his lap in an awkward silence, unpleased but not tense enough to be Seokjin’s opponent.

Namjoon seemed a little worse, across the table, gnawing on his lips, waiting for his turn. Or recovering from it.

Finally, he spotted Yoongi, cornered quite literally in the far kitchen corner, pressing himself against the countertop, knuckles white and visible, eyes throwing daggers defensively in a way he only did when he felt guilty.

Taehyung woke up a little, his stomach churning uncomfortably. No one should be angry at Yoongi. Yoongi worked hard for all of them, he had helped Taehyung, had found him when he had been scared. No one should be yelling at him.

“Hyung.”

Hoseok looked up, closest out of the four eldest, eyes wide in surprise. Seokjin didn’t hear him. He continued.

“Seokjin-hyung.”

Seokjin’s head whipped around, more red soldiers built of words ready to attack, until he realized it was Taehyung.

“Stop yelling at him.”

Seokjin blinked. Looked at Yoongi, then back. “Stay out of this, Taehyung. It doesn’t concern you.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows rose at his words, and Jungkook frowned, which was the opposite of Hoseok, but Taehyung couldn’t keep up with anyone’s faces and thoughts other than Seokjin’s. “No. Stop it.”

He felt Jimin’s hand on his back, not holding him back, but not pushing forward either. Just there.

“Just go back, Taehyung. You’re sick, and –”

“He’s taking care of me. You are not allowed to be angry at him. He’s trying to help me.”

Seokjin frowned, his face twitched, and red turned sour, turned into another colour. “I’m trying to help you, too.”

Taehyung’s stomach churned again. Seokjin was right, he was taking care of him, too, but…

Taehyung looked back at Yoongi.

No. No shouting at Yoongi.

But Yoongi’s face had softened already, though still unhappy. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah,” he muttered from his corner. “We’re just talking.”

Another voice whispered something, too, but Taehyung missed it.

“Still. He shouldn’t yell at you.” Taehyung turned back to Seokjin. “Please don’t yell at him.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, but the colours and the soldiers were gone now. Taehyung wondered where they went. “Fine. Protect your hyung.”

“Namjoon-hyung, too,” Jungkook whispered next to Taehyung, although he should’ve been quieter if he really didn’t want the others to hear him.

Taehyung looked at him.

“He was yel- uh, talking with Namjoon-hyung before that. Protect him, too.”

Namjoon blinked. Hoseok chuckled, then tried to disguise it as a cough. Jimin didn’t bother hiding his giggle.

Taehyung turned to Seokjin. “Namjoon-hyung, too,” he parroted.

Seokjin gave him a half-hearted glare, though Taehyung could see that he was fighting a smile for some reason. “Yaah. You can’t protect everyone. I need someone to scream at. Take one and go to bed before you fall over.”

“Yoongi-hyung.” It slipped out before Taehyung thought about it, his hand reaching for Yoongi who immediately stepped closer, earning even more chuckles, and Namjoon’s surprised, “That was a quick decision.”

“Can’t blame him,” someone said, and Taehyung didn’t understand, but Namjoon’s colour changed.

Taehyung felt bad, even as he pulled Yoongi behind him. “Can you be angry at me instead of Namjoon-hyung?”

Seokjin shook his head. “How am I supposed to be angry at you? You look like the sick kids in a movie, added in just for sympathy points.”

Taehyung pursed his lips. He had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “I’m sorry. You can be angry at Jimin until I don’t look like this anymore.” He pointed behind him.

Another round of chuckles danced through the room as Jimin protested. “Hey! I didn’t do anything!”

Taehyung frowned as he turned to Jimin. “But he’s angry at me. We’re the same, aren’t we? You are me, I’m you. He can yell at you until he can yell at me.”

Jimin stared at him with wide eyes.

Someone cooed.

Jimin blinked, then swatted at Taehyung’s arm. “Yah, don’t say stuff like that when you’re sick. I don’t know if you mean it.”

Jungkook’s chin landed on Taehyung’s shoulder, looking at Jimin. “Jimin-ssii, can we be the same, too?” His voice was sweet, too innocent to be real.

“No, we can’t,” Jimin declared and pushed him out of his way to step into the kitchen defeatedly. “Why do we need a sacrifice anyway? Hyung’s laughing, see?”

He was, though he was rolling his eyes, too.

Taehyung frowned. Everything was changing so fast, the faces, the colours, the topics. He couldn’t keep up. “But red’s poison. If Seokjin can’t be angry, he’s going to poison himself.”

“Yaah, are you saying I’m poisoning my members?”

“No,” Taehyung answered. Why did no one understand? “It’s poison for you. It has to get out.” He gestured at the others. “Someone else can take it from you. It won’t hurt Jimin like Yoongi.”

“That’s debatable,” Jimin murmured, but the silence was louder.

It lingered, and Taehyung enjoyed it over the chaos of earlier.

Then… “That sounded wise. Or am I just stupid?”

“Taehyung-ie’s always wise,” Namjoon answered Hoseok. “He’s not bothering with making it make sense when he’s sick, though. He just speaks his mind.” He had a smile, one that hid something. Something Taehyung was supposed to remember.

“Well, I always thought that Taehyung was the weirdest person I know. That title has officially been transferred to sick-Taehyung.”

Taehyung turned to Yoongi. “Hyung… I don’t understand…”

Yoongi laughed. “Okay, wise guru. Enough enlightenment for the day. Let’s get you back to your room, okay?”

“But…” He turned back to the room. He wanted to be here. Help solve the problem. But his knees were getting tired from standing.

“Taehyung, we’re fine, don’t worry. I’m not poisoning anyone.” Seokjin was smiling reassuringly. “Speaking of poison, I’ll bring you soup in a couple minutes, so don’t sleep just yet.”

At the thought of food, of eating, Taehyung’s stomach hurt again. He shrank against Yoongi, drawing a curious look from Namjoon and Hoseok and a frown from Seokjin.

“Taehyung. You didn’t eat anything today.”

“I know,” Taehyung grimaced. All eyes gathered on him, and he hunched his shoulders. “I know I have to eat to get better. And I want to, I swear. But I really can’t eat.”

Jimin shifted uncomfortably. He’d been there, with Jungkook, when Taehyung had dry-heaved just a couple hours ago. And squirmed in his bed in pain after that.

Seokjin sighed, closing his eyes with a weary expression.

“Can you please try, Taehyung?”

Taehyung turned to Namjoon. “I am trying. I really am.” Then back to Seokjin. “Everyone is worrying a lot, I know. But I am trying to get better. I am trying to eat what you cook for me. I just can’t.”

Seokjin took a deep breath before he answered. “I know, Taehyung. Yes, we are worried because you can’t seem to get anything down and keep it there, but we know you’re doing your best.”

“But it’s not enough. I’m not getting any better.” Taehyung averted his gaze. He was tired. Tired of trying, tired of being unable to move, unable to think, unable to be himself. He was tired of being sick. “I just want to be Taehyung again.” His eyes landed on Namjoon’s. He hadn’t meant to, but it felt right. To demand that from Namjoon. Like it was Namjoon’s to fix, like so many things were.

It took Namjoon only a fraction of a second, and his gaze sharpened. He didn’t stand up, but his voice was tall and firm and certain as ever. “You will. You’re just sick. It’s going to pass, and you’ll be back to your usual self. Don’t worry about it.”

Seokjin latched on to the tone. “Of course, you will. The Yoongi and I will cook healthy food for you, and Jungkook will keep track of your medicine. We will stay with you overnight for however long you need, and the medics are on board with everything anyway, they’ll keep bringing the right medicine, and you will continue to take care of yourself, just like you’re doing already.” Steps, and when Taehyung looked up, Seokjin had approached with a smile much closer to his usual indestructibly confident one. “And we will kick those bacteria and viruses and whatever else out of your body in no time. Teach them not to mess with Bangtan ever again. Fighting, Taehyung-ssi!”

He made a fist in front of Taehyung’s face, his stupid Jin-face smiling wide enough to spread a grin on the other members’ faces as well. Behind him were Jimin’s and Jungkook’s arms mirroring the move, and Yoongi’s unshakeable expression.

“Fighting,” Taehyung answered, although it was hard. What else was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he could give up when they were looking at him like that.

Chapter Text

Low lights. Harsh breaths. Something in his hair.

“Taehyung-ie-hyung? You’re okay. Did you have a nightmare?”

Jungkook was looking at him from the second bed, a soft smile, his headphones dangling in one hand.

Taehyung blinked. “Where’s Yoongi?”

His hair moved. So did Jungkook’s arm.

Oh. It was Jungkook’s hand in his hair. “He’s at work. He told you when he left, remember?”

“And Namjoon?”

“They are both working, they should be home soon. They are safe.”

That was an important sentence. “They’re safe?”

Jungkook nodded, smile widening assuringly. “Yep. They are safe. Yoongi sent a message just a couple minutes ago.”

“Okay.” He blinked emptily at Jungkook. “Did you catch him?”

Jungkook tilted his head. “What?”

“Did you -” The thought slipped right out between Taehyung’s fingers. He tried to find it again, reached for it in the sludge of his brain, but… He blinked again. “He… he’s alright?”

Jungkook nodded. “He is. I promise. Do you want me to call him?”

Taehyung shook his head. “But he’s fine?”

“Yes, hyung. He’s fine.”

“Okay.” Taehyung snuggled into his bed as a shiver went through his body. “I’m cold.”

Jungkook straightened immediately, leant over Taehyung, pulled at the cover on his back, huffed, unsatisfied.

“Sorry, hyung. Seokjin will kick me out if I give you the second blanket again.”

“But I’m cold.”

Jungkook sighed. “Your fever is too high. It’s dangerous, you might get a seizure again. But maybe I can do something else. Is there anything you want?”

“I want to not be sick.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered, suddenly sad, too. He carded through Taehyung’s hair again. “I want you to not be sick, too.” He sighed again. “There’s nothing else? Water? Orange juice? Strawberries? Soup?”

The thoughts were complicated, so Taehyung just gave in to Jungkook’s hand in his hair. “I want sleep,” he breathed out.

Jungkook let out a worried breath before smiling. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Then sleep, hyung. I’ll be here when you wake up.” His hand softly wandered down, covering Taehyung’s eyes. They closed on reflex, and Taehyung didn’t bother opening them again.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Kook-ah.”

“Of course,” came the answer, along with the gentle fingers in his hair, and this time the smile sounded real. “Anything for you, hyung.”

Taehyung was panting. Someone, there was someone –

But there was no one. Just Jungkook’s hair, centimetres away from Taehyung’s face, a damp cloth in his hand, fallen uselessly in front of Taehyung. Taehyung couldn’t remember, but he’d woken up to this countless times now.

“Jungkook?” he croaked.

Jungkook immediately twitched. “Huh?” He raised his head in slow motion, before looking up at Taehyung sluggishly. His eyes were bloodshot. “Just a nightmare, hyung. Go back to sleep.”

Taehyung hummed, eyes already falling shut on their own.

The cloth went over his forehead with a sigh, then the head fell back onto the bed.

Taehyung woke up with a gasp. Yoongi? No, he was gone. No Yoongi.

Faint shifting lights lingered around, from a source Taehyung couldn’t see. They drew colours and shadows on the face leaning against his bed.

“Hyung?”

The figure rose, no flinching, no surprise. Jungkook blinked wearily at him, dark circles around his red eyes. “It’s me, Jungkook. You’re fine, hyung. Just a nightmare. Yoongi’s okay. Namjoon’s okay.” He sounded like a broken record.

“Did you catch him?”

“Yes, he’s fine, he’s in his room. I promise. Everything’s fine.”

No, he hadn’t caught – Taehyung had pushed him into the fire, had killed him –

Jungkook was looking at him with pleading eyes, like he was about to cry, but Taehyung didn’t know what to do.

“He’s fine? Are you sure?”

Jungkook let his head fall against the bed, took a breath. The lights changed again, and he raised his phone to his ear without looking up.

“What?” In the silence of the night, Yoongi’s voice was loud, like he was standing right next to them.

A shaky breath. “Hyung, I’m with Taehyung-ie-hyung. Can you come over?”

“On my way.”

Jungkook raised his head as he put away his phone. “He’s coming.” His eyes were small in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Kook-ie.”

Jungkook shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not.” He paused. “I’m not angry, hyung. I just wish you could sleep. I told you. They are fine. Why can’t you believe me?”

“Easy, Jungkook.”

Taehyung exhaled, relaxing at the voice despite everything. Yoongi was here. He was fine.

Jungkook gave him an unhappy look as he scooted away to make room for Yoongi. “Sorry, hyung, I know you’re early tomorrow, but he keeps asking for you, and he’s not getting any sleep, I’m scared he’ll get worse again, -”

“Wow, Jungkook, take a breath.” Yoongi slipped past, sitting down close to Taehyung, reaching for his forehead. His hair was sticking out in all directions, but he still looked better than Jungkook. “I told you to call me if it gets bad, didn’t I?”

Taehyung leaned into Yoongi’s cold hand on his cheeks, closing his eyes.

But Jungkook sounded frustrated. “I thought I wouldn’t have to, but he – I don’t know, I can’t make him believe me. He’s waking up every few minutes -”

“You should’ve called me earlier then,” Yoongi said quietly.

“But you were exhausted. And I wanted to help. But I don’t know why, if the nightmares are worse when I’m here, or maybe he just doesn't believe me – It was the same the other day, I can’t get him to calm down -”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Yoongi voice sharpened, and Taehyung opened his eyes, too.

Yoongi was frowning sharply at Jungkook. “This isn’t about you. It’s not an achievement or some game of endurance.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened as he met Yoongi’s and looked down in shame. “I didn’t mean – I’m sorry, hyung. I’m taking this seriously. Really.”

Yoongi sighed. “I know, Kook-ah, that’s not what I meant. It doesn’t matter how hard you try, if he wants to see for himself, then that’s how it is. You can’t be the Golden Maknae all the time, because this isn’t about you. It’s about Taehyung being confused. I’m sure you did the best anyone could’ve done.”

Jungkook nodded reluctantly.

Yoongi kicked against his knee. “Now smile. You’re worrying the patient.”

Jungkook looked up with surprised eyes, before his lips curled into a small smile.

Taehyung tilted his head at Yoongi. “Hyung, he looks scary. Make him sleep.”

Yoongi chuckled. “You heard the man, Jungkook. I’ll stay here, you can go to your room. You did enough today, and you do look scary.”

“But it’s my turn,” Jungkook pouted.

Yoongi gave him a dry look.

“Let him stay,” Taehyung murmured, earning a bright, real smile and an eye roll.

“I hate you guys. You’re the worst. Menaces. No common sense at all.” He kicked Jungkook again. “Scoot over and sleep, brat. And if you kick me in your sleep, your limb will be gone.”

“Okay, okay, okay, good night,” Jungkook gave one last giddy smile before he curled up on the floor bed, scooting over until he hit the wall, and was out like a light.

Taehyung took a little longer, and he woke up again, but Yoongi’s small whisper was as effective as sleep itself.

“Thank you for catching me.”

Chapter Text

“Hyung. You need to wake up. You need to get better. Soon, okay? We’re kinda falling apart without you. So, you need to wake up, and stop them.”

“- take it out once it’s finished -”

“- another one if he keeps refusing -”

“- case of another seizure -”

“- nothing else in hospital either -”

“- medical team on standby anyway -”

“I’m sorry. I was too harsh.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it.”

“You’ve been handling everyone for over a week now, though. I should have given you a break.”

“I haven’t been doing shit.”

“That’s not true. You’re the only one who has a handle on whatever bullshit Namjoon is on. Hoseok’s and Jimin’s protective streaks are finally over, thanks to you, and you must have left an impression on Taehyung, too…”

“I didn’t do anything about Hoseok. And you know Jimin, he saw Namjoon sad exactly once before he caved.”

“But Namjoon and Taehyung -”

“What part of Namjoon makes you think I have a handle on it?”

“… What do we do?”

“I would say we wait until he lets us help, but the result of my last attempt to do the right thing is knocked out with 40 degrees of fever.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. You must have done something right, if he acted like this while delirious. He chose you over Namjoon.”

“You do realize that I am in more of his nightmares than anyone else, right?”

“You never told what happened that’s gotten him this scared.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have let it go that far, shouldn’t have listened to him. Should’ve just dragged him home or something. We didn’t have to tell him about the MVs, he wouldn’t have realized until it was too late anyway.”

“It was the right call. He would’ve killed us. He wouldn’t trust us again.”

“Better than this. I shouldn’t have…” A sigh, and whispered words. “He was so fucking scared to come home. When Namjoon tried to convince me, he was so scared. He looked at me like I was going to send him to the butcher. It was probably because of his fever, it was already starting at that point, but he was so scared of Namjoon, our Namjoon- I thought I was helping them. I just wanted to help.”

“You did help, Yoongi. And I meant it, what I said earlier. We’re not letting anything happen to him. He really is doing his best -”

“That won’t matter if he can’t get any nutrients in his body, because he’s growing weaker by the day, and we’re all watching like -”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the most important thing. We’re not the richest men in the country for nothing. Everything else we can replace. Namjoon’s on contact with the medical team, they’ll bring by IVs again if he doesn’t eat anything noteworthy by tomorrow, there will be new antibiotics, and if that won’t help, there’s a list of other antibiotics that could all potentially help him. You know he’s getting the best care there is. He just has to keep fighting, we’ll handle the rest. Just trust him.”

“Pfft.”

“Why are you laughing?”

“That’s what I kept telling him. ‘Trust me. Trust Namjoon.’ … I swear, it feels like he could make me trust anything just by looking at me like that.”

“I know. He made me remember why I trust you. And you should remember, too. Because he trusts us, and he trusts himself. Just follow his judgement. Our Taehyung-ie really is a wise man.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Joon-ah?”

“Can I stay? Just a couple minutes. Please.”

“Namjoon, you’re working tomorrow. He’s not awake anyway. And you look awful. There’s a reason Seokjin-hyung doesn’t want you here. If you get sick -”

“I’ll look better if… Please, hyung. Just a couple minutes.”

“… Don’t tell hyung.”

“Do you think he’ll wake up?”

“Not on his own, but he seemed awake enough earlier. He’ll probably remember if you want to wake him.”

“Nah. I can’t wake him when he’s finally getting some rest. We talked on the phone today, anyway.”

“Is there anything in particular…?”

“No. It's just nice to hear his voice.”

Jimin. Jimin. Jimin JiminJiminJimin

It is Jimin. That voice, that hand, that song.

JiminJiminJimin

“Shh, Taehyung-ie. It’s me. It’s just me.”

Jimin.

“I’m here. Don’t be scared, okay? I’m here.”

“ – happened again –”

“ – IV seems to help –”

“ – new antibiotics –”

“– can’t be this difficult to get rid of a fever –”

“ – Namjoon’s calling again –”

“Where’s Namjoon? Taehyung keeps saying we should check on him. It doesn’t sound like a nightmare though. He’s specifically asking you to check on Namjoon.”

“Did they talk today? I thought for sure he’d fight me on spending some time here today, but I didn’t see him yet.”

“Don’t think so. They talked on the phone yesterday, but Taehyung slept through the morning, and hasn’t woken up for long enough for a phone call, and Namjoon’s not back yet.”

“What do you mean he’s not back yet? It’s past midnight, and -”

“Maybe something came up -”

“I don’t care, he said he’d be back by eleven, and I told him it was his last chance.”

“Hyung, you know he doesn’t want to work this much, the managers –”

“I don’t care about the managers – how does this make sense to you? Namjoon would throw a fit if anyone tried to keep him from coming straight home while Taehyung is like this!”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll go pick him up, and you can warn any manager or whoever is pulling this bullshit, I don’t care who did what, but Namjoon’s not a hostage they can torture with whatever work they keep conjuring out of nothing –”

“Hyung, -”

“Look, I know there’s stuff you’re hiding, and I know I’ll be furious once I find out, I have no idea why Namjoon keeps playing along, but whatever it is, it’s not worth this. And if it keeps going, Taehyung’s punch or the schedule or whatever the problem is, it’s going to be the last thing anyone is going to worry about, because I’ll cause a scandal no one’s ever dreamed of before.”

“Hyung! I was just about to –”

“ER? Is everything –?”

“What? Is he alright?”

“How –”

“Unconscious?! Shit, did he –”

“I – what?! How can he –”

“I mean, I knew he had trouble sleeping –”

“No, I don’t – He wouldn’t – he wouldn’t, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, and text me when you’re there. Or call.”

“Hyung, how bad –”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, be careful –”

“You promised you'd be fine. You promised.”

Chapter Text

He woke up in sweat. Cold, disgusting sweat. On his back, on his torso, his arms – Oh god, his neck felt like someone had put a wet sponge beneath it. Yuck.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung didn’t remember making a wish, but hearing him this close, just when he needed him – it was a blessing. “Jimin?”

“How are you feeling? You think you can open your eyes?” His voice was tense, like more was about to slip out but he didn’t dare.

Taehyung opened his eyes, blinked the blur of sleep out them, tried to look around, tried to understand what could be bothering his best friend.

“Hey, Taehyung-ie, I’m here.” He was urging Taehyung in covered impatience.

“Jimin?” Taehyung frowned as his eyes landed on Jimin.

Jimin didn’t react, rummaging through stuff in the dim light distractedly, his hair sticking out in every direction like he just woke up, too.

That light – it was softer than Taehyung’s nightlight usually drowned the whole room in brightness. This one wasn’t his, but still familiar. It had been here the whole time he’d been sick, he recognized, then wondered how he hadn’t noticed before.

“How are you feeling?” Jimin repeated as he looked through the drawers of the nightstand.

The nightstand looked messy, cables and multiple empty glasses and empty medicine packages – a bag? Was that a serum?

“I’m fine,” Taehyung answered. “What’s going on?”

Jimin stopped for a second to look at him with wide eyes, then chuckled in disbelief. “You’re fine? You slept like a baby for almost a whole day, you better be fine.”

Taehyung frowned as he moved, and the yucky sensations doubled as his clothing shifted against his skin, giving him goosebumps all over his back.

He remembered. He’d been sick. Still was, judging from the exhaustion and lack of strength, and the excessive amount of sweat covering him, but… “I feel better, I think.” He’d woken up, talked to Hoseok, hadn’t he? The clarity of the memory was confusing him.

Jimin grinned widely. “You think?” Finally, he pulled out something – a gun? Oh, a fever gun – and ignored Taehyung’s flinch as he pointed it against his forehead. “37,8 degrees,” he whispered, finally letting the glee shine through his voice. “It’s down. Taehyung, it’s finally under thirty-eight.”

Taehyung blinked. He wasn’t feeling the enthusiasm yet. “My shirt’s wet.”

“Your fever broke, it finally broke!” Jimin’s voice rose with every word, and Taehyung heard himself shush his friend automatically. But before he could say anything, Jimin was scrambling off the bed. “I need to – I need to tell the others –”

“I want a new shirt,” Taehyung tried to rise, supporting his torso with his arm. It was a stupid thing to be hung up on, but the fabric felt disgusting, and he didn’t want it on his skin for a second longer. “Jimin. I need a new one.”

Jimin stopped, surprised, then grinned wider. “Sure, just wait a second.”

He helped Taehyung sit up, brought a new shirt, wiped away the sweat, helped him into the new one – he was clumsy, Taehyung realized, Jimin’s hands were shaking, his movements were frantic almost –

Jimin was really happy. “You good now?”

Taehyung nodded. Jimin had been around the whole time, but it felt like he hadn’t seen his best friend for days. He smiled.

Jimin smiled back, and suddenly his arms were around Taehyung, and it was a hug that didn’t care if he was uncomfortable or too tight or too much. It was Taehyung’s favourite.

SJ: *picture of Taehyung and Seokjin smiling into a selfie camera, a finished jigsaw puzzle barely visible in the background of the picture*
SJ: I finished the puzzle.

YG: That’s clearly the main event of the pic.

JK: I’m so proud of you hyung
JK: is what I would say if I didn’t know you cheated

SJ: *angry emoji*
SJ: I didn’t!

TH: Yeah
TH: I didn’t help at all
TH: And he never looked at the cover either

HS: Taehyung! Welcome back to the chat!

JM: How are you feeling

NJ: How r u feeling

TH: *audio message: I’m much better. Still very exhausted (yawn), but Seokjin-hyung says that’s normal. But the fever is gone almost completely, and I’m not stupid anymore (laugh)*

NJ: No audio

JM: *thumbs-up emoji*
JM: You can listen to it later hyung
JM: *winking emoji*

NJ: In text pls

YG: Be patient, RM-ssi.

NJ: How r u guys on ur phones anyway?
NJ: Someone just type it

JM: Advantages of being the Sunbaenim in the room

SJ: Why can’t you listen to it

HS: Jinhy, chill
HS: I can feel you writing a wrath message from over here
HS: We’re at the movies
HS: No work

TH: *giggling emoji* Good save, Hob-ie-hyung, Jin-hyung had that constipated face for a minute.

SJ: Yah
SJ: I’m always handsome, I don’t have a constipated face!

HS: *laughing emojis* Why are you texting that?

TH: He screamed it first, don’t worry
TH: Also
TH: Sunbaenim?
TH: Where are you guys? @Jimin
TH: Why sunbaenim

JM: Long story
JM: I’ll tell you later

JK: omw home.
JK: Anyone need anything?

SJ: Wow
SJ: unexpected move from JK
SJ: Have you been possessed by NJ’s spirit?

JK: I’m always considerate, hyung!

HS: *laughing emoji*

YG: *laughing emoji*

JM: *row of laughing emojis*

TH: I want beef stew

HS: NOoo!
HS: Not again
HS: Jin hy was making beef stew every few days since you got sick
HS: Bc you never got to eat it

SJ: Yah, disrespectful, thankless brats
SJ: I’m making beef stew today
SJ: Only for Taehyung
SJ: Everyone else can order take out
SJ: I don’t care

NJ: u?

SJ: Take out
SJ: I’ve been cooking for days, I’m not spending a second longer in the kitchen than necessary

HS: *row of laughing emojis*

YG: You’re spoiling them too much, hyung.
YG: can’t stand cooking for yourself but you’ll do it for him.

JM: Says the one who let Taehyung cling to him for days
JM: Remember you honest to god scolded me for hugging you

YG: bc you used to do it unannounced.
YG: also, that was years ago.
YG: you hug me all the time unannounced now.

NJ: don’t worry, no one believes ur hard exterior anymore, sugar-hyung
NJ: You already spoiled the maknae line rotten

YG: Yaah
YG: @NJ says Mr. I-can’t-come-home-before-I-find-strawberries-at-midnight-bc-I-promised-a-comatose-person-who-will-neither-remember-nor-eat-it

NJ: What was i supposed to do
NJ: come home empty handed

HS: love the effort yoongi hy put in with the dashes

JM: @Taehyung See how the world revolves around you?
JM: no one asks @JK if he wants banana milk anymore

JK: Hey!

HS: don’t worry, JK, I have a pack of the lemon drink you like in the car

JK: Thanks hyung <3

TH: I don’t remember any spoiling
TH: just a bunch of mother-hens

HS: HEY!

SJ: Rude

JM: Rude

NJ: Whaat

YG: *deadpan emoji*

JK: Nooo

TH: except for Yoongi hyung
TH: Thanks for letting me cling to you like a starfish

YG: You’re welcome
YG: .

TH: I hereby promise not to demand any skin contact for a month as a thank you, though I will still gladly receive it

YG: WOw!
YG: really?
YG: see you in a month, losers.

JM: Someone stop him!
JM: Were you only staying for Taehyung????

HS: Don’t leave us Yoongi hy

SJ: Someone drag him back by his hair
SJ: @JM aren’t you with him

YG: Bold of you to assume he can stand between me and my freedom.

JM: Bold of him to assume I’d try

JK: Yoongi hyung wouldn’t leave us
JK: Right, hyung?
JK: *heavy pouting selfie on the street*

NJ: Where’s your mask

SJ: Put on your mask!
SJ: do you want to get mobbed again?

JK: Yes
JK: Yoongi hyung will come rescue me

JM: Does that work
JM: Maybe I should throw myself into crowds as well

HS: Why are you all so hungry for attention all of the sudden?

NJ: Speaking off, where’s Taehyung?

JM: Speaking off?
JM: *laughing emojis*

SJ: Fell asleep
SJ: *Picture of Taehyung asleep on the couch*

HS: Cute

JM: Ugly

JK: His mouths open

NJ: Did he eat?

SJ: I only heated up some soup
SJ: didn’t want it to be too much at once

NJ: Good thinking
NJ: That’s what the medics said, too
NJ: it stayed down?

SJ: yes
SJ: Seems like the bad part is over

JK: what’s the good part

SJ: Not good part
SJ: easy part
SJ: He has to get stronger
SJ: Pretty sure he’s lost weight
SJ: looks like a skeleton
SJ: Can’t sit too long, gets tired

JM: *teary emoji*
JM: I want him to go back to normal

YG: He will

SJ: Don’t worry
SJ: He’s on his way there

It wasn’t fair. They’d left him to rot in his room, no one waking him up for anything. No one was checking on him. He was going to starve to death, die with moths and worms and they were going to find him because of the smell, and no one was going to care.

That’s what Taehyung tried to tell himself as he realized he’d woken up once again with crystal clear thoughts and an incredible hunger, hunger for movement, for action, for talking and walking and laughing, and just couldn’t supress the grin and the giddy tension running through his body with the knowledge that he definitely had the energy to stand up and jump on his bed to touch the ceiling.

He gave up trying to regulate his emotional landscape and capitulated to the surge of action.

The cacophony of smells hit him even harder than the voices of the members in the usual mealtime chaos as he entered the kitchen. Something was simmering on the stove, the beef stew he’d asked for, and he was still set on eating the whole pot, but at least four different kinds of food were scattered on the table, bags and cartons with colourful logos discarded carelessly on the countertop.

“Taehyung’s up!” Someone yelled over the chatter, and suddenly all eyes were on him.

Taehyung blinked. It was still a little overwhelming, all the looks and the chaos and the smells, but another thought occupying the front of his mind was calling for attention. “I’m hungry.”

There was a beat of silence, before Seokjin stood up to reach for a plate with excitement. “Here, your stew.”

Beef stew was compelling, but at the same time, the pizza in front of Namjoon, still steaming a little, with cheese melted like liquid gold over the sauce, the crust crispy and fluffy at the same time, some kind of herbal spice sprinkled on top – he found himself pointing at it. “I want that, too.”

Namjoon chuckled as he shoved the carton towards Taehyung with an inviting gesture. “Take as much as you want.”

Suddenly, Hoseok’s noodles were in front of Taehyung’s face. “You can try this, too. It has chicken, that’s what we tried to get him to eat, right?” He looked at Seokjin for confirmation.

Somehow Hoseok’s offer kickstarted a mass advertisement campaign, everyone presenting their food with praising words (though they had to be making it up at some point, none of them had any knowledge about avocado sauces “having healing effects on fever survivors” as Yoongi threw in with a straight face), not even bothering to take turns, and Taehyung found himself craving every single one of them with and increasing hunger and a pool of drool in his mouth. “I want that, and that, that, too, I want I want Iwant-”

Jimin laughed as Seokjin tried to shush the crowd. “Stop it, he’s turning into a monster. He’s going to eat us if we’re not careful.”

Taehyung snapped his teeth in Seokjin’s direction, who yelped at the sudden movement – “Yaah, I need my arm, Taehyung-ssi!”

“Let’s see if you can really eat, though,” Jungkook mused, calming the chaos immediately. “What if your appetite’s gone again, once you try to actually eat?” He kicked the empty chair at the head of the table and placed his cup of ramyeon with a pair of chopsticks he picked up at random on the empty space. “Come on, hyung, try to eat.”

Taehyung looked down as he stepped closer and took the seat. The noodles honestly shined delicious enough to almost send cramps into his stomach. His eyes fell on Jimin’s encouraging smile from his other side as he gave the noodles a twirl, trying to swallow the nerves that rose with the memories Jungkook had mentioned.

Until he noticed the unnatural amount of intense attention these poor noodles were getting from some of the world’s most famous artists. Especially the Golden Maknae.

Taehyung sent Jimin a wink and a subtle nod towards Jungkook, who seemed entranced by the chopsticks in Taehyung’s hands, following his exaggerated motions of up and down to cool the noodles like a mesmerized cobra at the end of a snake whisperer’s flute, opening his mouth minutely every time it approached Taehyung’s mouth.

Jimin caught on immediately, covering his smile with a subtle gesture, but his stifled chuckle alerted Yoongi next to him, and within the span of two whole seconds, half of the table was watching Jungkook watch Taehyung, until Hoseok giggle yanked Jungkook out of his trance, making him blush hard enough to approach the colour of the sauce within a second. “Hey!”

“Just eat it, Taehyung,” Yoongi laughed in an attempt to save Jungkook.

And Taehyung did. He took a big heap, slurped the noodles, let the taste of soy and onions and tomato spread in his mouth, followed the warmth down into his stomach.

He wanted more.

“He eats,” someone yelled as Taehyung shamelessly shovelled the noodles into his mouth, not caring about spattering or taking it slow or anything else. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in months.

“He eats,” Jimin repeated next to him, with the stupid fond grin he’d greeted Taehyung with after his fever had broken.

Taehyung grinned back as he slurped the ends of the noodles messily.

“He eats!” They began to chant like a war cry, knocking against the table in rhythm, someone filling the pauses with a catchy beat, and Taehyung slowed down as he realized it.

His friends were celebrating him. Because he’d managed to survive whatever the weird intervention of his life the past week was supposed to be. Their joy felt like a weight on his limbs.

“Too much at once, right?” Seokjin appeared next to him, softly pulling the food out of his hands in a misinterpretation of Taehyung’s sudden stillness.

Jungkook stood up with raised hands. “The ancestors have accepted our sacrifices. The future will be bright, my friends.” And he lowered his body with exaggerated motions of worship before abruptly lunging for Taehyung, pulling him out of the chair, grabbing his legs and raising him enough for Taehyung to tower over all of them before anyone could stop him.

At least three voices called to be careful, but they drowned out as Hoseok joined Jungkook on Taehyung’s other side with loud cackles. Taehyung was laughing, too, while holding both shoulders for support and balance, enjoying the view as he was carried around the forgotten meals on the table. Somehow, Yoongi had spawned in front of them, leading the weird procession accompanied by a mixture of calls with royal elegance that almost seemed out of place while clearing the path of stray chairs and discarded bags.

The inevitable couldn’t be prevented though, and Taehyung only had Seokjin’s widening eyes and Jimin’s short call as a warning before his throne of limbs stumbled while his surroundings erupted into a loud remix of outcries and wood scratching against the floor. The impact wasn’t painful, though, the most prominent part being the arms grabbing him before he could crash into any furniture.

Even while the others fumbled between laughter, Namjoon was guiding him to the nearest chair. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung beamed up, still short of breath from laughing, and only a little exhausted. “Thanks, hyung.”

Namjoon smiled back before turning around to check on the others, his hand still strong on Taehyung’s shoulder –

It was covered in scrapes, Taehyung realized. So many, there were so many, dozens of scratches, mostly on the back of his hand, but at the fingers, too.

Taehyung grabbed Namjoon’s wrist, pulling it forward to take a closer look – It was covered in cuts of various sizes and depths, mounting around his knuckles and fingers, the smallest ones already little more than faint scars, others still deep red and probably painful.

Wounds weren’t uncommon for Namjoon, with his accumulation of bad luck and clumsiness, but Taehyung had never seen an injury like this –

The hand jerked, trying to escape, and when Taehyung raised his head, Namjoon was looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. But Taehyung held on just in time, his other hand hovering along the knuckles on instinct. “What happened?”

“Nothing. An accident,” Namjoon muttered, then met Taehyung’s eyes with a sad smile. “Looks worse than it is.” A complicated expression flickered through his features, far too heavy for the simple sentence, reminding Taehyung of Namjoon’s nightmare in the make-up room. Suddenly, he could see walls, magical barriers between them, or around Namjoon, isolating him like a cage, visible in shimmering waves only when touched.

‘He’s not talking about it.’

Namjoon seemed lonely, as he looked down on his fingers with that smile.

Taehyung shivered. “Are you - You’re not hurting alone, hyung, are you?” He couldn’t be alone. Namjoon, out of all people, should never be alone.

But Namjoon’s eyes were huge as he tore them from his hand, like he’d been caught. His mouth opened, but no sound came. Like the walls were solid enough to block his voice.

“Clear out, he’s bleeding -”

Namjoon blinked, and the expression was gone, the wall was invisible again. The hand vanished out of Taehyung’s grip, reaching for the bundle behind him.

Taehyung caught Seokjin’s watchful eyes wander from him to Namjoon, and linger there as the leader peered to the members of the plummeted human tower trying to gather themselves.

Hoseok was standing, still grinning but following Jungkook intently, who was pulled up by Yoongi with an annoyed expression. Jungkook himself was grimacing with the same annoyance. They looked like twins.

“Someone punched me with their elbow to protect Taehyung’s butt! From falling on me!”

Hoseok sniggered behind his hand.

“I had it under control!” Jungkook grabbed a half full glass of water from table and spat. He was, indeed, bleeding.

Seokjin tutted. “You’re the one who started it! Is it a tooth?”

Namjoon approached with his professional calm, his injured hand now gently holding Jungkook’s chin to inspect the injury, but the younger shirked away awkwardly.

Namjoon let go like he was burned, and the walls appeared again, like a spider’s silk glistening for a fraction of a second before disappearing.

“Just busted my lip,” Jungkook murmured, before raising his voice. “I just want to ask, was it worth it? Was saving Taehyung’s boneless bottom from my smooth abs worth risking my idol face?”

Taehyung met Hoseok’s eyes, and almost snorted in sympathy despite the whirlwind of reactions he couldn’t keep up with, but Jungkook was pouting, which was definitely a call for affection, and he wouldn’t appreciate teasing from Taehyung after having carried him on his shoulders.

“Oh, poor Jeon Jungkook’s idol face,” Yoongi, who seemed to have come to the same conclusion but didn’t care enough for real effort, patted his head with a stiff hand and a flat voice. Hoseok’s hug was much more heartfelt, though a little over the top as he threw his arms around the maknae. “Aww, poor Kook-ie. Do you want some ice for it?”

Jungkook softened immediately. “It’s okay, I think it stopped bleeding already.”

“That’s good.” Hoseok rubbed Jungkook’s arm. “Maybe you’ll feel better once you finally fill your smooth abs, hm?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jungkook’s face lit up. “Where is my ramyeon? I’m starving, I skipped lunch today because it took me forever to find the beef. I hope it’s not cold –”

Seokjin, who’d been in the process of reaching him the cup, halted. “Do you want some stew, too? There’s not much left in this.”

Taehyung’s stomach sank as he remembered the awesome taste of the noodles going down his throat.

“No, not stew again. Who ate my…” But Jungkook trailed off as he recalled the fate of his noodles, too.

Their eyes met.

“Sorry, Jungkook, I don’t even know why I ate that much – ”

“No, hyung, it’s fine, I gave it to you.”

“Just to try, not to finish all of it.”

“No, it’s fine. Really. I’ll find something to eat.” He looked around. “I’ll steal the rest of Jimin’s tuna pizza, that one looks good. It’s the same as taking from you, right?”

“Not that shit again. Why am I only seeing disadvantages of that?” Jimin mumbled as he pushed his pizza into the centre.

Taehyung had no idea what they were talking about. “Still, I’m sorry.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not accepting it, so you might as well take it back.”

His exaggerated annoyance made Taehyung smile. The kid was putting on a show for him, even after staying up for hours just to shush his nightmares, losing the integrity of his lips and a meal he’d been looking forward to (and they all knew how important his food was), all for Taehyung.

Once again, he felt overwhelmed by the love he was receiving, like a heavy rain on a hot summer day, almost drowning him, hitting him hard in unregular waves, but still welcome. Still salvation.

“Hey, are you crying?” Jungkook came annoyingly close, staring at Taehyung’s eyes with the indignance of a crazed scientist. “Please tell me it’s not for the stupid noodles.”

Taehyung swatted at him before turning away and rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not crying.” He turned towards the table, made a small gesture. “But you guys really are spoiling me too much.”

Jungkook laughed. “Ahhh, Taehyung-ssi. A beginner’s mistake. There’s no such thing as too much spoiling. You just take it with a thankful bow.” He grinned as he grabbed one of Yoongi’s untouched chicken nuggets and threw it in his mouth before he could be stopped, gave Yoongi a quick nod, and dodged his swat just as successfully.

Taehyung and Jungkook ended up scrounging on the others’ dishes together, rating the members’ sense of taste and drafting inappropriate reviews in between, the voices quieted one by one due to the communal food coma that had been a frequent experience since their trainee days.

And if Taehyung still needed time to catch up to his brothers, that was okay, too. They would wait for him.

Chapter Text

The day went like this: Half of Taehyung’s energy went straight to climbing out of bed, shuffling out of his room and dragging himself to the living room, only to watch whoever was in the immediate vicinity. He only took two naps, both early in the day, then wandered from room to room just to enjoy his new freedom of movement. The others let him, glad that he was taking it slow just by being in another room than his own, but it still left him drained. And not only because he’d been awake.

The retrospective feelings of guilt for scaring them and gratitude for everything they’d done to keep him alive were being put on a difficult test by their complete refusal to acknowledge that he was not bound to bed by a deadly Victorian illness anymore. That he still had a functioning brain that registered his needs without external help, and also a very healthy dose of pride that didn’t take their excessive baby-ing too well. A baby-ing that was particularly overdone by Jimin, Hoseok and Seokjin. And Jungkook, unexpectedly stern and clingy.

Which basically left Yoongi and Namjoon to respect his words when he said he was okay.

So, he rediscovered another freedom towards the late hours: solitude. Taehyung sighed, his hands around the mug he’d filled with tea a couple of minutes ago (another proof of his health and independence). He lowered his face to take a sip, too weak to lift the weight of the full mug. Then, too lazy to lift his head, he placed a fist under his chin. Then he tried to take another sip without lifting anything.

Which was the position Namjoon spotted him in when he entered the kitchen with empty dishes in his hand. He blinked at Taehyung, who had frozen with his lips almost reaching the brim of his mug, then started chuckling while he placed his dishes on the countertop. “Never change, Taehyung.”

It was the first time it was just the two of them, after a week of angry words and dark eyes, and another week of worry and fever dreams. And still, not a trace of the unease from that week stirred in his chest. Taehyung was fine, as long as he could see Namjoon. He smiled as he straightened. “Hi, hyung.”

Namjoon waved him off. “Don’t mind me, Taehyung, you can kiss your tea all you want.”

Taehyung huffed a laugh and watched as Namjoon poured himself a coffee from the kettle without checking the water temperature. He didn’t tell him off, only because his tea was still hot between his hands, so the water in the kettle had to be, as well.

Namjoon turned back to Taehyung and leant against the counter with a fond, soft eyes and a smile that was reserved for slow days after weeks of hard work. “You look good.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, and Namjoon amended with a chuckle. “Better. You look better.”

That was probably closer to the truth.

“I feel better. I’m finally me again,” Taehyung replied tiredly, and pressed down a laugh as Namjoon’s brows shot up high in a mocking imitation as he took a sip of his coffee. “I am! I’m still exhausted, I barely made myself tea, but my brain is awake. Finally. And I’ll be able to walk back on my own, I think. I just need a small break.”

Namjoon hummed in agreement. “Your body is just out of war. Give yourself some time to recover.”

Taehyung nodded. A war. He hadn’t been awake for most of it, but he was aware it had been a hard-earned battle. He took another sip, a bigger one, now that his tea had cooled down a little. His gaze followed the little whirls in the almost translucent water, turning and winding, trapped by the shape of their container.

Their agreement about pausing their ‘issues’ was still going, and Taehyung was grateful to have more time to catch up, to find the pieces to the picture, but now that his brain was coherent, able to stay awake for more than a couple minutes at a time and actually look at the others’ faces and read the room, it wasn’t difficult to spot the monsters still lurking in the shadows.

His eyes fell on Namjoon’s right hand, still covered in scrapes. A dumb Namjoon-story, Jimin had conveyed, stumbling fist first on a glass or something of that calibre, but there was an ominous aura around it. It made Taehyung restless. And somehow it had triggered a babysitter, too, Seokjin, something that no Namjoon-story had managed to do until now. And the fact that Namjoon took it in stride when Seokjin followed him out for one of his walks was unprecedented, too.

His clumsy ducking around was another piece Taehyung still needed a tag for. Namjoon was waiting for something to happen, with his spacing-out and sudden stiffnesses and still sealed lips. Almost like for the shoe to drop, in a weirdly awkward way, like he didn’t dare shake it off himself.

The silence stretched for a couple seconds, a weight pulling at the seams, strong enough for Taehyung to look up at the source. Namjoon was fixated on his own cup, Hoseok’s favourite, an unreadable scowl was occupying his face. Unreadable – but familiar.

Taehyung frowned. He’d been hesitating, unsure if he was allowed to help already, allowed to poke a little, but all the questions disappeared when he realised that Namjoon’s cruel stare was now directed into a container reflecting his own face. “And you?”

Namjoon’s eyes snapped up, and he blinked with owlish eyes, the scowl gone, so Taehyung repeated his question with a softer voice. “How are you feeling?”

Namjoon blinked again, then shrugged indifferently. “Alright. My schedule has mostly been cleared off, now that Sejin-hyung is back. It’s much more relaxed now.”

Taehyung watched as Namjoon’s eyes fell back to his cup. There had been problems with the managers, Jimin had said. Namjoon hadn’t been this frustrated for a long time, and Taehyung could only assume it was somehow related to the incident that now was more than two weeks in the past, but it seemed mostly over.

They were technically on a break now, only a couple of them at the company for not more than a few hours a day, something about mentoring one of the younger groups who hadn’t even debuted yet. Jimin hadn’t told him how they had gotten roped up in it, but with Sejin’s return, Namjoon had gotten back his weight in the decisions regarding their team, and the Crisis was officially over. They had gotten a choice to blow the mentor thing off, but it was fun, according to Jimin, and with the promise of not overdoing it, even Seokjin had agreed to scatter the few work hours into their week of rest. 

But Namjoon didn’t act like this, when he was truly on a break. When he was winding down. The first day or two of relaxation, then the rising energy with excitement and detailed plans for the most mundane activities, the deep dimples and shiny eyes small from grinning, the childish and carefree attitude like a revenge on his leader duties –

They all knew what Namjoon looked like, after a night of full sleep. And now that Taehyung was getting better, the focus was shifting onto their tense leader. Yoongi’s sharp gaze, Seokjin’s increased caution, Jimin’s exaggerated cheer… No matter how they tried to keep it from Taehyung, it wasn’t lost on him. Whatever was going on, they were enduring it.

And Taehyung had promised to make it okay, right? Even when it had hurt the most, Taehyung had given his word, and even if he hadn’t – Namjoon was his friend. Whatever had happened, whatever Namjoon had done.

“Hyung,” he started, waiting for Namjoon to meet his eyes before he continued. “What’s wrong?”

Namjoon’s brows twitched before he settled into a reassuring smile. “Nothing. Like I said, things are better now.” Now, this smile was familiar, of course. Every time Namjoon smiled to distract them, this was his go-to smile. The others hated it. All but Hoseok, who had a similar one, because sometimes they needed to smile like that to make everything work, to keep going because they couldn’t afford a break. ‘He acts like everything’s fine when it isn’t,’ Jimin had complained once, when Namjoon had been sick before a concert.

But at a close enough look, that smile was the exact opposite of deception, really. It was his way of telling them, of asking for support, of saying, I’m working extra hard and I trust you to keep walking with me and it wasn’t that different from Jimin staying late for practice trusting Hoseok to pick him up on his way down, or Jungkook not setting up his alarm knowing they would wake him in time for his omelette to still be hot, or Yoongi locking himself in his studio until Namjoon’s text lured him out.

At the same time, it was a request to be careful. To pay attention.

Taehyung could be careful. “What is not okay, yet?” The question hit Namjoon like a bullseye, judging from the way Namjoon’s eyes widened like he’d been caught red-handed, the way he minutely shrank back, the way it took him a second to collect his thoughts. His hand had tightened around his mug, the one with cuts still red as freshly spilled blood.

A second later, the mug transferred to his left, the scrapes vanished into the pockets of his sweatpants, and their eyes met again. “There’s nothing to worry about, Taehyung. I’m – I’m handling it.” Be careful.

“I’m not worried. I want to help.”

Namjoon paused, looked at Taehyung with pensive eyes, and there it was again. Something on the tip of his tongue, Taehyung could hear the silent plea to be heard, but Namjoon pressed his lips harder into a thin, impenetrable line.

Taehyung leaned forward again, closer to the table, made himself small as he looked up at their fearless leader. “Namjoon-hyung? I might be overstepping, but... It’s not like you to run.”

The words hang in the air for some time, Namjoon refusing to react, though his eyes did meet Taehyung’s with a warning not to trespass. He shifted on his feet, almost imperceptibly leaning away, but enough for Taehyung to know he was at least partly right.

It didn’t make him feel better.

Silence stretched like a battle between Taehyung’s words and Namjoon’s guards as Namjoon averted his eyes, slowly blinking into his mug. Then he breathed out in defeat. “I’m not running, Taehyung.” He looked lost, suddenly, even as he stood in their own kitchen in their own home, with Hoseok’s mug in his hand, leaning against their counter. He looked far away, like he had been reaching for Taehyung, and Taehyung hadn’t known. “I’m not running. I - I think I’m falling.”

The words, even more so the smallness in his voice tugged painfully at Taehyung’s heart as the piece slowly slid into place. Namjoon wasn’t waiting for the shoe to drop. He was waiting for his fall to end – he was waiting to crash.

Taehyung should have asked sooner. He shouldn’t have left his friend alone for this long.

A door closed in the hall, and Namjoon almost flinched, and his jumpiness fit perfectly with the feeling of meeting a shy, cornered animal behind magic walls. He threw Taehyung an apologetic look, already composing himself.

Taehyung shook his head, calm like he knew he had to be, even as he tried to make sense of it. “Don’t worry, hyung. I’ll find you.”

Namjoon chuckled, and he raised his mug for another sip like any other day.

The door to the kitchen opened.

“Oh, Taehyung-ie-hyung, you’re still up?” Jungkook yawned as he entered the kitchen. “I thought you wanted to go to – Namjoon-hyung.”

Taehyung chuckled at Jungkook’s wide eyes and hesitant greeting. Years of sharing an apartment and bathroom and seeing each other after throwing up and crying for home hadn’t left much space for to be hero-worship in them, but sometimes Jungkook forgot, and he looked at Namjoon with that stupid expression.

Taehyung stifled his chuckle into a sip of his tea. The kid probably hadn’t looked at their leader like that when he’d been angry on Taehyung’s behalf. It would be good for both of them.

“Uhm… Is there any hot water left?”

Taehyung snapped up at the sudden awkwardness, almost tension in the room. Jungkook was pointing at the kettle, but looking at Namjoon with big, careful eyes.

Namjoon, on the other hand, was boring holes into his coffee with a badly hidden stormy expression. Taehyung could have sworn he heard Namjoon clear his throat before he spoke. “I don’t know.”

The invisible barrier shimmered again, but like barricades this time, like tall prison walls.

“I don’t think so,” Taehyung threw in, ignored the imagery that didn’t vanish, trying to smooth over the weird bumps of the conversation. “It should be cold by now.” He pointed at his own almost empty cup.

Jungkook nodded, meeting Taehyung’s eyes, unsure what to do next.

Taehyung frowned as he straightened. Was this because of Taehyung? Should he leave? Or act like nothing was out of the ordinary? “You can heat up some, though,” he tried finally, carefully. “Join us.”

“If that’s okay…” But he trailed off.

Namjoon should have said something by now –

Taehyung almost froze when he saw Namjoon’s expression still trained on his coffee. The dark flash had returned, the one that had haunted Taehyung for more than a week, the wall that had been drawn up between him and Namjoon, only now, Namjoon seemed consumed in it, a painful frown like his coffee was breathing fire at his hands –

The longer Taehyung watched Namjoon, the more pieces he remembered. ‘Just stay away from me’ ‘I’m so fucking tired’, Seokjin’s worry, ‘you’re both in so much pain’, the dream back in the make-up room – The picture wasn’t complete yet, but he didn’t like the signs at all.

Taehyung couldn’t warn Jungkook in time as the younger stepped closer to Namjoon. “Hyung?”

Namjoon flinched back, but he caught himself quickly. He straightened, not leaning against the countertop anymore, downed his coffee and put his mug into the sink. “Sorry, I have some paperwork to go through until tomorrow.” He gave Taehyung a nod, another one vaguely into Jungkook’s direction as he pushed past him. “There should be some leftovers in the fridge, if any of you are hungry…”

And he made his way out of the kitchen.

Jungkook was watching him with eyes wide in disbelief and confusion before he turned around with and angry huff, glaring as he mindlessly took a plate from the rack with unnecessary harshness.

Taehyung blinked. “What on earth did you do?” He asked, half in joke.

“Nothing,” Jungkook snapped as he grabbed a pair of chopsticks and shoved the drawer back. “I didn’t do anything. I was just there. I just heard it. It wasn’t even on purpose.”

“Heard what?”

Jungkook froze in his tracks. Didn’t move for seconds.

“Jungkook.”

Slowly, Jungkook turned around to face Taehyung, like he’d just realized he wasn’t alone in the kitchen, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “What?” He asked, like he hadn’t just been ranting.

“Heard what?”

Jungkook inhaled, paused, started again. “Nothing,” he shook his head in tiny movements, “no idea what this is about.”

Taehyung tilted his head, unsure if he should laugh or not. It hadn’t felt like it was about him, but why was Jungkook acting like this, then?

Jungkook licked his lips, and there was no way Taehyung was letting this go. “Kook-ah, -”

“Me, too!” Jungkook blurted out.

“What?”

“I have some paperwork, too, -” But he didn’t, because Jungkook had whined he didn’t understand the formal jargon in the contracts when he had been sixteen and hadn’t touched it since, first giving them to Hoseok, now to the assistants. Jungkook knew Taehyung knew, and started again – “I mean, stuff on paper, like – there’s a song that Hob-ie-hyung gave me –”

Taehyung shook his head as Jungkook aborted his mission to put back his utensils and just went for the door –

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook turned again, once again in slow motion.

“What is going on.”

“Nothing, Taehyung.”

The lack of honorific was definitely intentional, and the smile ridiculous, but Taehyung would play all the hyung-cards, sick-cards and friend-cards he had. “Don’t lie to me.”

Jungkook sighed. “It’s not important –” But he grimaced, disapproving of his own lie.

“Then tell me.” Taehyung knew his tone was getting harsh, but Jungkook was still ducking around and frankly, it was getting annoying.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you,” Jungkook finally admitted. And that – that hurt.

“Are you guys keeping secrets from me now?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “No, it’s not like that -” He looked away, biting his lips, and Taehyung couldn’t help but soften at the maknae struggling to do the right thing. “I really think Namjoon-hyung wouldn’t appreciate me telling anyone.”

Taehyung breathed out, forcing some of the tension out with the air. There was no way Jungkook was telling him if he’d turned it into some kind of loyalty test.

And he could understand, too, some secrets were just not meant to –

Wait. Oh. Oh no.

“Is it…” He broke off, started again, looking for the right words. “Is it about what happened after the awards?”

Jungkook’s brows went up immediately, eyes wide as stage lights. “You know?”

Jungkook knew. Jungkook had found out that Namjoon – that Taehyung –

Taehyung looked away, suddenly cold despite the lingering warmth of the cup in his hands. He’d thought he had time before the others would find out, at least until he’d talked to Namjoon – Jungkook was going to hate him, he was definitely going to hate him –

But his body went rigid as another thought crossed his mind. Jungkook had found out. Jungkook, who looked up at Namjoon the most, still wanted to be like him, Jungkook who Namjoon was so proud to be the hyung of –

No wonder Namjoon hadn’t looked up once when Jungkook had entered, had fled the room like he was suffocating.

“You knew?” Jungkook repeated his question, but Taehyung ignored it.

“How – who told you?”

“What does it matter?” Jungkook thundered, making Taehyung wince. His eyes were wide in disbelief. “What does it matter when you - You knew?”

Taehyung looked down. Yes. He had known. And he’d known it would come to this, at some point. Yoongi might have decided to help him, despite everything, but the others were bound to find out, too, and be as angry as he deserved it. Like Hoseok had been.

“Hyung.” Jungkook’s voice was unnaturally low as he stepped closer, like a volcano rumbling, about to erupt. “Did you know?”

He was furious, in a way he’d never been at Taehyung before.

Taehyung should have known. Jungkook was protective of Namjoon, but so was Taehyung, and usually they were shoulder to shoulder when it came to that, like with everything they did… He’d never received that venom from the youngest before.

Taehyung nodded.

“When?” came the next question. “Before Jimin and I talked to him? Before I stormed out because he was being rude to you? Before breakfast? When we left the award show, did you know what would happen?!”

Taehyung’s breath hitched as he looked up at Jungkook, who was towering over him, glaring down with hurt and disbelief in his eyes. “After,” he whispered out. He hadn’t lied, he hadn’t known himself, he’d had no idea, he’d told them he had no idea. “After. I – Yoongi told me when we went to the river. I didn’t know until then.”

Jungkook glared at him for a second longer, then turned around, hiding his face.

Taehyung’s pulse spiked at the thought that Jungkook might not hear him. “Kook-ah, I swear I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have let him – and you were there when I first talked to him after that, in the studio, remember? And I got sick after that - I didn’t mean to hide it, not like that, I wouldn’t –”

Jungkook took a deep breath, and he was calmer when he turned back around, though the frustration was still evident when he chewed on his lips. “I – I believe you. Sorry – I should have listened first, hyung, that was disrespectful.”

Taehyung could only watch as Jungkook took another breath and pulled up the chair diagonally to him. His voice had left a dry desert in his throat, almost letting him choke on nothing.

Jungkook slumped into the chair without meeting his eyes. “Management,” he spat, out of nowhere. “That’s how I heard it. They were arguing, and one of the managers brought it up, a rude asshole, and it wasn’t fair that they were arguing about it anyway – He hasn’t been talking to me since. He isn’t even looking at me.”

Shit. This was even worse. It didn’t matter much for Taehyung how they found out, it wasn’t his place to tell them. But Namjoon – Probably half of the reason he was avoiding Jungkook was because he’d found out like that.

I’m handling it, Namjoon had said, but this wasn’t – he knew Namjoon. He wasn’t arrogant, he didn’t think he was better than anyone, but his pride – it was earned with hard work and guarded like a heart piece in a museum. Out for everyone to see, but heavily protected with all kinds of safety measures.

“Hyung?” Jungkook was looking at him, guilt shimmering beneath the weary frown. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Taehyung shook his head. “It’s okay. I deserve worse.” His voice sounded forced, even to his own ears.

Jungkook mirrored the gesture. “I’m freaking out a little, I think, with all the fights and stuff. But I shouldn’t have.” He took another deep breath, filled his lungs with all the oxygen he could, like that would solve the knots in his chest, the ones that Taehyung felt like lumps in his own airways.

Taehyung’s heart squeezed at the defeated slouch on Jungkook. “What fights?”

“All of them,” Jungkook snorted unhappily. “Everyone is fighting and then acting like they are okay. I don’t even know if they hate each other or not.”

“Tell me. What happened?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Jimin was pissed for days when he had to work. Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung – you heard it, remember? You came to the kitchen, when you were sick. It freaked you out, although you weren’t thinking straight. Then both of them got angry at Namjoon-hyung again – it was bad. Like, real bad. And now he’s not talking to me, although I didn’t even do anything – and then stuff like yesterday happens, when we eat together and laugh and act like idiots and it’s like always, and I don’t understand anything anymore.”

But Taehyung did. He knew that feeling, when everything he trusted began to shake. “Don’t worry, Jungkook. We’re really fine.”

Jungkook looked up, stormy clouds back in his eyes. “How can you say that? You saw what just happened! It can’t continue like this, you know how groups like that end!”

Oh no. Taehyung’s heart broke at the familiar fear in Jungkook’s expression – he had seen it a lot when they were younger, when they were sent out of the room by Namjoon when the hyungs were fighting, only to watch through the door left ajar – they hadn’t been used to Yoongi’s outbursts yet, and Seokjin’s stubbornness and Hoseok’s stern expectations and Namjoon’s distant and detached attitude in his panic to keep them together that wasn’t like him at all. Their fights had seemed so much more serious than Taehyung stealing Jimin’s wax or Jungkook leaving his socks on Taehyung’s bed, and they had clung to each other until Namjoon’s exhausted voice ordered one of the hyungs to ‘buy the kids ice cream or shit and make it up for scaring them.’

That face belonged in a time where they hadn’t known each other yet, hadn’t built the memories and the trust and the devotion that was an inseparable part of them now. (The very same expression had been on Taehyung’s face a couple times over a week ago, until he’d had stopped looking into mirrors.)

But this was Jungkook, and however quick he might be to be shaken by any fight, he also believed his hyungs were the best in the world.

“Kook-ah, that’s not what this is.” Taehyung sighed. “Yes, it’s not – there are still some things to talk about, stuff that has to be solved. That’s why there are fights and – and whatever that was supposed to be,” he gestured vaguely toward the door, and Jungkook snorted. Success number one. “But we’re fine. We’ll be okay. I don’t know what the others fought about, but we’re still us. Even when Namjoon ignored me for a week, even when Hoseok got involved and bullied me a little,” he started counting on his fingers although he wasn’t really paying attention to the number, his voice light and bored to lure another smile out of Jungkook, “when Yoongi lied to Namjoon, when the hyungs had their fight, when Jimin ignored Namjoon…. Anything to add?”

Jungkook turned away to hide his laugh. “You’re stupid for making fun of this.”

Taehyung chuckled, too. “But it will be fine. We’ll make it fine.”

Jungkook sighed again, but his breath seemed clearer now. Calmer. “You’re awesome, Taehyung-ie-hyung, you know that, right?”

“I was the one who kickstarted this whole dominoes of issues, but thanks for the good faith, I guess,” Taehyung replied over the sting in his chest.

“I mean it. Life is easier when you’re around.”

Taehyung tilted his head. Namjoon had said something similar once, hadn’t he? “What do you mean?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You make everything seem easy. And simple. I was thinking about this all the time, how we’re going to solve this, like one of the conspiracy boards with coloured threads in movies, but now it’s just… it’s just us. The seven of us. It feels stupid to worry about it. I trust all of you. All of us.”

“That’s not me. It’s just because we’re awesome.”

Jungkook nodded sagely. “We really are awesome.”

Taehyung watched as Jungkook settled back into the chair, already trailing other thoughts, but a smile still on his face. He was lucky, he had just fought off the dark clouds in Jungkook’s mind with a couple words, but suddenly, the trust of his only dongsaeng started to weigh on his shoulders. He didn’t deserve this, not after what he had caused. They would be okay in the end, Taehyung didn’t doubt that, but he had still caused a lot of hurt amongst all the members.

Namjoon was still falling.

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook blinked as he looked at him. “Yeah?”

The words were too large in his throat, almost cutting off his breath. “You’re angry at me, right? Because of what Namjoon had to do.”

He wasn’t showing any signs of it, his face wide and open, but he had to be. That was the only thing that made sense.

Jungkook hesitated, before he looked down. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Earlier – I was already feeling bad that I wasn’t telling you, and when you said you’d known already I lost it for a second… I was – I was so angry at him, because I couldn’t understand why he was acting like that. And we took your side, even when Yoongi-hyung said it’s wrong. It would have felt like you used me, if you’d already known.”

“I didn’t,” Taehyung felt the need to say.

Jungkook nodded. “I know. I didn’t really think you did. I was just – it was unexpected. I was just surprised.” He shifted a little. “But with the rest – I honestly don’t know.” He looked up, before averting his eyes again, almost guilty. “I understand him, now, I think. I’m not saying he was right with what he said and how he acted, but... It must have been hard for him, too.”

Taehyung nodded. He understood. He hadn’t known what to think, either, when he’d first found out. He’d had a breakdown, he’d lashed out at Yoongi, then Namjoon, he’d apologized. Maybe it was even harder for Jungkook, because he couldn’t be angry at Taehyung, not as much as Taehyung could. Because he had a soft spot for all of them as much as they had for him.

His eyes fell on his mug. He’d forgotten to finish it. He reached for it, gave it a little twirl, moving the residue filled with the tea powder, like that could make the situation better.

He had to fix this. He had to make up for the trouble he’d caused, if that was even possible. He had to help Namjoon, he had to make sure the peace lasted long enough for everyone to regain the balance they’d found over the years.

“Hyung-ah.” Jungkook tapped against Taehyung’s shin. “Don’t be sad.”

“Why? I’m allowed to be sad.”

Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t like it. Don’t be.”

Taehyung snorted.

Jungkook chuckled, tapping against him again.

Taehyung pulled his leg back, stood up. “I need to talk to Namjoon-hyung.” There was no point in waiting any longer. Even if there was, Taehyung didn’t care enough about it. Not if Namjoon felt like falling all the time.

Jungkook looked up in surprise. “But Yoongi-hyung said-”

“He didn’t say anything to me. And I don’t think Joon-ie should be alone right now.”

Jungkook looked at the door, then back at Taehyung. “Are you sure?” He was frowning, unsure, but Taehyung could see the hope in the maknae’s eyes.

Taehyung grinned at him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Kim Taehyung’s back.”

Chapter Text

At the expected lack of reply to his knock, Taehyung carefully pushed open the door. It was pitch dark, and if he hadn’t seen Namjoon enter minutes ago, he would’ve thought it was empty. “Hyung?” No answer.

“Namjoon-hyung. I know you’re in here.” He opened the door a little wider, until the narrow ray of light hit two socked feet.

A silhouette was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, leaning against a messy bed, barely recognizable in the lack of light, but it was enough to convey the darkness straight into the heart.

He didn’t react as Taehyung entered.

Taehyung closed the door, blocking off the light from the hallway. Carefully, he stepped towards the nightstand he knew was standing by the wall and reached for the antique-like lamp, almost knocking over a pile of paper in the process. But he found the knob, and the dim light barely enough to show details of Namjoon’s usual mess did a lot of work warming up the room into less of a prisoner’s dungeon and more of a guarded home.

Something shifted behind him, and when Taehyung reached Namjoon, the other had hidden his face between his arms he’d propped up on his knees.

Taehyung sat down next to his hyung, moving a towel to make place for his crossed legs. “Namjoon-hyung,” he sang softly.

Namjoon had to be breathing, but the tense shoulders didn’t even twitch with the passing seconds.

“Come on, hyung. You know I’m here, I know you’re here. There’s no point in hiding, right?”

No reaction.

It wasn’t a bad sign in itself, Namjoon acting immature like this, ignoring Taehyung instead of politely asking him to give him space. The problem was the hiding. The fact that Namjoon was affected enough to try to hide, even in his most honest layer.

Taehyung shifted, reached for Namjoon’s closer hand. The injuries looked worse in the unfavouring light.

Namjoon drew it back as soon as he made contact.

“Oh, so you are alive.” Taehyung said, a slight sarcasm in his voice.

No reaction.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, going for Namjoon’s leg this time. If words weren’t enough, he’d use touch to make Namjoon acknowledge him. To show that he’d found him, like he always would, no matter how deep Namjoon fell.

Namjoon didn’t react.

“Hyung, you know I won’t go away. You have to raise your head eventually.”

And he wouldn’t. He would wait for days if he had to.

Namjoon knew that.

Nothing happened. For minutes. Until Taehyung’s back started to ache under the increasing weight of his body, demanding support after a comparably long day. So, Taehyung shuffled towards Namjoon’s other side to lean against the bed, too, circling around the distant boy. “Sorry, hyung, I have to – As you know, I’m on bedrest, still sick and stuff… I need a bed lean – to rest on…” Ah, the sick-card and a pun, Seokjin would be delighted.

Another half minute passed, before Namjoon’s guilt overrode. “Get out.” His voice was a steady but heatless whisper.

Awesome. “Can’t. I have a hyung I need to help,” Taehyung said cheerily. “This is what you meant, right, back before I got sick? What you want me to make okay?”

“Please, Taehyung. Get out.”

Taehyung hummed. “Maybe not? Is there something else? Oh wait, are you sending me out because of the other talk that still needs to happen? The one that’s on pause?” He chuckled, making sure Namjoon heard it. “Is this one of your organization quirks, hyung-ie? Everything must be solved in the right order, first our beef, then your own issues?” Did he know he was being a brat? Yep. Was Namjoon already too used to it to care? Hopefully. Would he continue just in case being obnoxious brought a smile of Namjoon? Absolutely. “You’re not the only one who can press pause and change the priority of things, Namjoon-ssi.” He raised his finger, and firmly poked Namjoon’s shoulder. “I’m officially pressing ‘pause’, and postponing… No wait, it’s the other way around, isn’t it? I’m hereby pre-poning this issue before anything else.”

Namjoon took a deep, audible breath.

Taehyung’s smile widened.

“What can I say to make you leave?”

Taehyung hummed. “If you can look me in the eye, say that today’s the happiest day of your life and make me believe it, I might be convinced. Then again, I might want to stay and keep you company on your happiest day, too.”

“Not even my hyungs are this rude. They leave when I tell them to.” His words even had bite by now, but Taehyung had already put on the Namjoon-gloves.

“First of all: untrue. They absolutely don’t when they don’t want to. Second, I’m not one of your hyungs. I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Can’t you be normal just for once? Kim Taehyung doesn’t care about conventional, does he? Namjoon had exclaimed it one night, when Taehyung had refused to put his pillow to the wall side of the bed, opting to face the wall instead (and putting his head basically in the middle of their room). (The phase had lasted two weeks, mostly out of stubbornness and a bet.) (Namjoon had done it, too, on the second night, because ‘a leader doesn’t leave his members alone, even when they are stupid. Especially when they’re stupid.’ Or he’d been too curious after Taehyung had enthused over it in the morning like it was the best sleep he’d ever had. Taehyung would never know.)

It had turned into a joke, saying ‘I’m Kim Taehyung’ whenever they did anything out of ordinary.

This time, it was more than a joke. Taehyung heard it when the words left his mouth with more sincerity than planned. He saw it in the tension in Namjoon’s body as he curled up tighter into the ball he was forming, raising his guards in adjustment for the concession he was about to give. This time, it was a key.

“I – I can’t, Taehyung.”

Taehyung waited, leaning in closer to not miss anything said in a silent voice, but Namjoon didn’t continue. “You can’t what, hyung?” he prompted carefully.

“I can’t look up,” Namjoon whispered, and Taehyung leaned back as the words squeezed something inside him. “I can’t… I can’t get it out of my head. I thought it was just – I thought if –”

He cut himself off, switching to a different channel, as sudden as a panicked child. “You should leave. You’re sick, and I – I didn’t even apologise yet –”

Taehyung suppressed an annoyed sigh. “Hyung. I’m fine, and I will never be sick or angry enough to leave you like this.”

“Really, it’s not – we can talk later –”

“Hyung.” Taehyung interrupted him, fierce enough to almost count as rude. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Namjoon tensed up further, impossibly so, even his toes were curling in himself, but thankfully he continued after a short breath, switching back. “I just – I can’t get it out of my head,” he repeated. His fingers were clawing at the arm under them, harsh enough that it had to be painful. But he continued, small and stuttering. “At first, I thought it was because I was angry at you. And I thought I had a right to be, so I didn’t think much of it. And it wasn’t even this bad, but…” He buried his head deeper, his hands running over the back of his head. “Since you got sick, I – there was no time to be angry, and no reason to be – I wasn’t anymore, I wasn’t, but at random moments – I feel like I’ve never raised my head, I’m still stuck, just random moments and I feel like the – the worst –” He cut himself off again.

Namjoon’s voice, soft and weak and clumsier than ever with his words in his desperation, was painful to hear. Shame, or whatever it was, kept poisoning the air, the whole room surrounding them. He let out a shaky breath. “It wasn’t just you, and now Jungkook, too – it’s random, I don’t understand, but I’m stuck in this loop, I can’t forget his stupid grin, his fucking shoes – I can’t stop looking at his dirty boots, like they are here, like he’s just above me all the time, saying –” His hands were gripping his head, trapping hair between the restless fingers – “I keep hearing his voice, I can’t stop it, even stuff he said years ago, it’s everywhere.”

A piece of memory flared up – ‘Just stay away from me!’

Flashbacks. That was what Namjoon was talking about, wasn’t it? He was having flashbacks – Namjoon was having flashbacks because of Taehyung. “That’s why…” Taehyung breathed before he could stop himself. But he’d already started. “I – I kept reminding you, didn’t I? Just looking at me made you think of him – I gave you flashbacks?” Do I still –?

“It’s not like that…” Namjoon had already raised his head as Taehyung realised he’d said it out loud. “It’s not that bad – I just can’t get it out of my head –” He drew a shaky breath, held it, his entire body tense, then let out a frustrated, pressed breath as he drew his limbs even closer, shrinking right in front of Taehyung’s eyes. “Just a stupid apology, why can’t I just forget –”

Taehyung’s hands moved by instinct as Namjoon’s injured hand tightened in his hair, dark and evil as it hurt him, maybe without him even realizing. “Hyung…”

Namjoon hid his head lower, but he let go of his hair. “It’s stupid, I know. We’ve all gone through shit, everyone has things they’re embarrassed about, memories we want to forget, but – but I’ve been wanting to vanish into the ground for so long now.”

Taehyung closed his eyes, drew in an even breath despite the unruly chaos inside. Even putting aside that this was his doing, seeing Namjoon, their leader, strong and kind and always, always proud of them, being too ashamed of himself to raise his head, unable to look him in the eye – him, them, the six people they shared everything with – it was the worst. It was like watching a building collapse, or the ground crumble.

He breathed out softly, deliberately. Nothing else. Just a reminder he was still here, still listening.

Namjoon shook with a painful chuckle. “I’m such a hypocrite, right? Are you laughing at me yet?”

Taehyung didn’t grace the question with an answer. Namjoon knew Taehyung wasn’t laughing.

“Always telling you guys to talk everything out. Here I am, hiding out in my room like a kid,” he mumbled to himself. “I knew I had to tell you, all of you, from the first day, I knew you had to know – but I just stuck my head into the sand. It’s been almost three weeks, and I couldn’t work up the courage to tell a single person. Not Hoseok, not you, not Jungkook -”

He ran his hand over his skull again. “Jungkook had to hear from management,” he spat it out like dirt. “He probably already told Jimin, maybe even Seokjin -”

“He would be offended if he were here, Joon-hyung,” Taehyung whispered, if only to interrupt the bitter tone. “He wouldn’t even tell me, and I tried hard to make him spill. You know how loyal he is, especially to you. I just guessed correctly in the end.”

Namjoon scoffed. “He should have. No use being loyal to a leader like me.” The contempt in his voice, heavy like a mountain and cold like an arctic breeze prickled on Taehyung’s neck, making his hairs stand on end. “‘You proved your team’s worth when you threw yourself at Pan Jungdae’s feet for forgiveness. Don’t act like you deserve any respect here.’ That’s how Jungkook heard it. When ‘best leader Namjoon’ couldn’t even get a single day off for his team from their own company. Fucking useless.”

The hairs on Taehyung’s neck grew like spikes on him, in him, around him, and he had to hide a fist against his thigh to stop himself from bouncing out of anger. Anger at all the people that had hurt his friend, and at Namjoon, for speaking about himself like worthless trash.

It really was a good thing Yoongi wasn’t here.

“You have no right,” he forced out, only barely keeping the balance between an angry outburst and mute fury.

Namjoon’s shoulders dropped; his head rose slightly. He was listening. Good.

“You have no right to talk about our leader like that. You do your best, and it’s up to us to decide if you’re a good leader or not.” Taehyung stopped. He didn’t list all the reasons why Namjoon was the only base BTS could’ve been founded on. Why no one on earth was more suited to be their leader. He didn’t need to justify it because it wasn’t up to debate.

“If Jungkook is loyal to you after he finds out what happened, if he still looks at you the same, you have no right to argue against that. If Hob-ie-hyung decides to stand on your side, even if he’s breaking his promise to me, if Yoongi-hyung curses and defends you in the same breath, waits for you to call him in the middle of the night, you don’t get to talk about our leader like that.”

“But I fucked up.” His voice was small but high, still fighting, like he was looking for something to reach for, and Taehyung knew he had to continue with the same firmness.

“That’s because you were put in a fucked-up situation,” he replied easily. I fucked it up, he didn’t say. “You were in a fucked-up situation, and there was no way out of it. You didn’t fuck up, because it was already fucked.” He was half expecting Namjoon to scold him for swearing, but the only thing he got was headshake.

“But I – I could have kept the others out of it. I could have kept BTS out of it. If I – he just wanted to see me beg. I could’ve just asked, in my own name, he wouldn’t have cared, he would have enjoyed it just the same –”

Taehyung swallowed. He wanted to ask, why didn’t you just let me do it? He wanted to understand – but that wasn’t what this about. It wasn’t about the question if Namjoon had made a mistake. It was about the fact that he was allowed to. “It doesn’t matter. You did what you thought was best for all of us, –”

Namjoon laughed ironically, his head rising but looking forward, still not showing his face. “Did I? The best would have been to tell everyone, to tell you, it would’ve been to do my job and be a professional about it – not an unnecessarily difficult dick to everyone who tried to help. The best would’ve been to get that break that we earned, to not force Jimin to work when he begged me not to, to actually be there when you asked for me or had a seizure, to not be stuck in a stupid meeting, –”

“Hyung,” Taehyung tried to interrupt the spiral. That’s what Namjoon had meant when he said he was falling. “I know you did everything you could. And I knew it when I was sick, too. Jimin’s doesn’t blame you, and you couldn’t have helped me even if you came –”

“That’s it, isn’t it? I am supposed to have control, at least over my own actions, but I can’t even look at Jungkook without – without whatever is wrong in my head. And I have to tell the others, too, it’s been almost three weeks, and they deserve to know what happened. How the hell am I supposed to raise my head if all I can think about is how I failed them? If I keep failing them, every passing day?”

“Easy,” Taehyung filled the silence before it settled, knowing it was everything but. “You raise your head and look at them.”

Namjoon opened his mouth, but Taehyung didn’t give him the chance to pick the thoughts back up.

“Yes, you can. You already do, when you need to. You talked to me just fine before and during the shooting, didn’t you?”

Namjoon shook his head slowly. “It’s different with you. Now that you know, it’s different from anyone else. You don’t count.”

The implication clogged Taehyung’s throat out of nowhere. It’s a good thing, his mind started to convince the sudden fear in his heart. It’s a good thing, because that means he can look at you now, you can help him, it means he wouldn’t have been able to speak freely with anyone else. But it was soon silenced by the voice he’d tried to ignore for a week. Please don’t say because it’s my fault, please don’t say it’s because I don’t matter anymore, please don’t say it’s because I deserved it.

There was the faintest smile in his voice when Namjoon started again, his shoulders imperceptibly lower. “I can’t stop thinking of what you said to Jimin the other day. ‘I’m you, you’re me.’ It’s not the same, but... It would have been you or me. And no matter how much it haunts me, that might be the last decision I made that I didn’t regret.” He sounded unsure as he continued. “It kind of feels like were in the same boat, although I know you’re angry at me, too.”

Taehyung breathed out as his chest unclenched. Namjoon didn’t hate him. Everything else he could handle. “I’m glad,” he whispered, hoping the blur in his eyes wasn’t audible in his voice. “I’m really happy that you feel like we’re in the same boat. At least we’re together, then, right? Even if I pulled you into it.”

Namjoon turned the tiniest bit, eyes just visible above his arm in the faint light, intense and teary and about to protest, but Taehyung continued.

“No. You and me, we’re on pause. This is not an apology yet. But you’re right. We’re in the same boat. And we’ve tried to survive by running and it didn’t work for either of us.”

“So, what do we do? How did you stop running?”

Taehyung shrugged. He couldn’t give a point where he’d stopped. He didn’t know if there was one. “I don’t think I’m as good at running as you are, hyung.” He huffed a small laugh. “I think I stumbled, and my hyungs found me.”

Namjoon sighed, let his head fall on his arm again. “They found me too, you know?” He sounded fond, but still tired. “But I’m falling faster than they can catch up.”

Taehyung frowned, thinking of the helplessness in Yoongi’s eyes, in Hoseok’s eyes. The careful observation in Jimin’s, and Seokjin’s eyes, ready to jump – all ready, but waiting. For Namjoon to give them a chance.

Taehyung never waited. He was the impulsive one. The one who didn’t think too much. “You could do it, you know?” He whispered as he dared to step on the thin line. “You could win this game of hide-and-seek, even if you’re playing against people like Jin-hyung, or Hob-ie-hyung. Hide away forever. If anyone, it would be you.” He paused, watched Namjoon take his words in silence. “But sometimes, trust is giving up, hyung.”

Namjoon stirred, raised his head until he could scowl at Taehyung. He could be protesting to either part of the statement – the implication that he didn’t trust them, or the advice to quit.

“If you’re falling, just let them catch you. Let us catch you. Stop fighting.” Taehyung tried to smile, although it was hard. How far had Namjoon fallen to doubt this? How long had he fought alone? “We’re right here, you know? We wouldn’t let you get hurt. Don’t make it complicated, just raise your head and look at us.”

Namjoon shifted, finally shoving more of himself, finally opening up as his knees slid further down, and Taehyung could see his face propped up against one hand on his forehead as his arm settled on his knee. “And then what? What’s going to change if I –?”

“Then, I’ll be right there. And everyone else, too. And then you won’t be alone with him in your head, and we can start replacing all the bad memories with good ones –”

“It’s not just that, –”

“Isn’t it, though? Everything else is nothing new. You never had the power or responsibility to give us breaks whenever we want. And with all due respect, you made mistakes in the past, too. You’re just being harsher on yourself this time.

“I don’t know enough to tell you that you did everything right. And I can’t tell you how the others are going to react. But it doesn’t matter. You are our leader, and it’s your job to do your best when you make decisions that affect the group. And we know you do a good job of it. But you’re also human. We know you can’t know all our thoughts all the time, and that you are flawed, too. We are the ones that know your flaws best, some even better than your own family. And for all the good you do for us, it's easy to forgive your mistakes, because you still do a better job than anyone else. Even if they disagree this time, no one is going to hate you for it.”

Because unlike Taehyung, Namjoon had found himself between a rock and a hard place and he’d tried to make the least bad of it. Taehyung had picked a perfectly fine day and ruined it.

Namjoon frowned. “Maybe. But I shouldn’t be seeing him when I look at Jungkook. I don’t want to be seeing him.” He sounded sullen, almost.

“So, you’re okay with not looking at Jungkook at all? Won’t you miss him? Didn’t you miss me?” It could have been a cheeky thing to say, Taehyung knew, if his voice hadn’t wavered. But he meant it. “I ran, too, remember? I couldn’t stop hearing your words at the breakfast table. And every time I saw that look in your face, like you never wanted to see me again, it became another memory I wanted to forget, so I ran. I avoided you, I didn’t want to come home anymore.” Maybe it was pathetic, but Taehyung didn’t care. Namjoon had always been one of the people he didn’t mind being pathetic with. “But in the end, I still missed you. I wanted you by my side. I had stuff to tell you, that was bothering me, but you weren’t there and I – I wished you were. All the time. And I would have accepted all the bad memories if you had been, too. I would have stopped running if you had called.”

Namjoon let his knee drop all the way, guilt written all over his face as he looked at him. “Taehyung-ah -”

“Nope.” Taehyung cut him off with a raised finger, blinking the blur out of his eyes. This wasn’t about him. He had to get a grip on himself. “We are on pause. No comment on us.”

Namjoon stared with furrowed brows. “You can’t just press ‘play’ and ‘pause’ every time you want to say something. That’s not how it works.”

Taehyung shrugged. “Sure is. I wrote the manual.”

Namjoon blinked, then looked away to hide his chuckle, but he was still fighting a smile as he looked back. “Good memories, huh?” He sighed. “Can it really be a good memory when I can only think of bad things?”

Taehyung let out a scoff. “Can it be a bad one if we’re in it?” At Namjoon’s look, the one ready to protest for the sake of truth over simplicity, he quickly continued. “Yes,” he started, “technically, of course it can be, sometimes it’s only worse because it’s the people important to us, but we’re ignoring that part.” Because if they started to dissect all the imprecisions in Taehyung’s words, they’d be sitting here until morning.

Namjoon blinked, speechless, and then, finally, a chuckle he didn’t manage to hide. “You really are impossible, Kim Taehyung.”

“I know,” Taehyung grinned back, but quickly sobered up. “Hyung. You say it’s hard, and I believe you. I really do. But it’s hard on us, too, when you’re like this. And I knew the whole time that it was at least partly my fault, if not completely. That I started it. It’s not the same with Jungkook. He didn’t do anything wrong. And he misses you, too.”

Namjoon let out a long breath. “I know. I need to talk to him. The others, too.”

“It’s not just that though. Yes, they deserve an explanation, but you know they’ll give you all the time you need. Even Jungkook.” He swallowed. “But you have to show him that it’s not him. Now that you’ve explained it, it makes sense, but we can only see the way you’re looking at us, not what you’re seeing.”

Namjoon frowned.

“I didn’t know you were seeing him when you looked at me. But I knew exactly how much hatred and anger was in that look. And Jungkook knows it, too.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “But I didn’t – you – why would I be angry at him?”

“He doesn’t know. And it’s frustrating him.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Namjoon seemed small once again, eyes full of regret, but finally not horribly out of reach. “What did he say?”

Taehyung shrugged. “He’s… concerned, to be honest. Kind of freaking out, with everything else going on, too, though I think I calmed him down a little.”

Namjoon frowned, tilting his head. “Everything else?”

“I heard there were a couple... disagreements? While I was out. He didn’t mention any specifics, but apparently almost everyone was mad at you at some point? And you know, Jungkook’s kind of protective of you.”

Namjoon snorted quietly. “Yeah, sure. I think that ship has sailed.”

Taehyung frowned. “Why?”

Namjoon shook his head. “He didn’t mention what he did during the first week, did he? After breakfast and stuff...” He trailed off, but picked it up with a snort when Taehyung shook his head, urging him to continue. “He… It got pretty bad, for a bit. Jimin was worse, at first, he was obviously pissed at me for not talking to you, but at the same time, he was trying to be respectful and not too harsh. Jungkook just straight up picked fights, ignored me and yelled at me.”

Namjoon was smiling wistfully, with the same fondness they all had when it came to Jungkook, but Taehyung was trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this was the same kid who’d listened to Yoongi’s lecture and Jimin’s rant in the car in almost silence. After doing all that. “You’re not making this up, are you?”

Namjoon chuckled again. “No, I’m not. I’m pretty sure he was about to kick me out of the kitchen the day before the shootings if you had been home. I guess he just snapped when he saw me instead of you eating the food he'd helped prepare. He apologized later, but he probably still feels bad about it.”

“He does,” Taehyung confirmed. He’d looked like he wanted to punch Taehyung for causing it.

But Jungkook hadn't, and Taehyung couldn't get rid of that thought. Jungkook hadn't punched him, he had controlled himself. The familiar train of unwanted memories trailed ruthlessly in front of his eyes. Pan Jungdae, the punch, his outburst at the breakfast table instead of the apology he’d planned, Yoongi falling – after all of that, still snapping at Namjoon in the studio… He really had to stop that. He had to start thinking before he acted.

Namjoon breathed heavily next to him, lured by his own set of darkness, looking into the distance with the frown that Taehyung finally knew wasn't directed at him. Somehow it had found him again, so quickly, mercilessly, and now that Taehyung knew, he wouldn’t let it linger.

It wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of his demons for good. Not after they had been here for this long, after bleeding into his life for weeks. But Taehyung wasn’t going to allow Namjoon to fall further while sitting right next to him. “So, you will try, hyung? Look at Jungkook, make some good memories?”

Namjoon blinked, his eyes regaining focus. “It sounds easy when you put it like that.”

Taehyung shrugged, smirking. “It is.”

Namjoon squinted. “I don’t like that expression at all.”

Taehyung smiled wider, inconspicuously taking a deep breath, before hollering. “Kook-aaah! Hob-ieeee!”

“What are you doing?!” Namjoon hissed, unnecessarily, trying to cover Taehyung’s mouth with his hand.

“Making sure you get some good memories, what else? Some serotonin and dopamine and all the happy stuff.” Taehyung laughed as he let himself fall on the other side to get some distance between his face and Namjoon’s arms without having to spend energy defending himself.

The door shot open, increasing the light on them, catching them in a somewhat compromising position as Namjoon tried to prevent Taehyung from falling too hard.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook was staring at them with wide eyes, only thinking of slapping on the big lights after a couple seconds, but relaxing as soon as he saw Taehyung’s grin.

Namjoon immediately turned back to Taehyung, trying to silence him once again. “Taehyung, don’t you dare –”

“Kook-iee,” Taehyung sang again as saccharine as he managed below Namjoon’s efforts, “Hyung needs some positivity in his life.” He was already out of breath, although Namjoon was being careful not to tire him too much.

“What?”

Namjoon groaned. “Shut up!” He was still averting his eyes from Jungkook. Jungkook probably did, too. Good.

Because Taehyung was going to make sure that changed. He let himself go limb, immediately making Namjoon pause in worry.

Taehyung used the chance. “Jungkook, Joon-ie-hyung here said he needs to experience some positivity to forget bad stuff, and I suggested you’d be the best person to ask.”

“What? That’s not -” Namjoon spluttered, blushing immediately. “That’s not how it went!”

“Oh.” Jungkook frowned, visible confused, but Jungkook wouldn’t be Jungkook if his competitive brain didn’t work on overdrive just to prove that he was, in fact, the best person to ask.

“Don’t worry about it, Kook-ah,” Namjoon said, glaring down at Taehyung like a toothless tiger about to lunge.

Taehyung winked at him. Being sick was awesome.

“It’s dedicated to you.” Jungkook blurted out behind them, effectively muting even Taehyung’s raspy breaths.

Namjoon blinked, slowly leaning back from Taehyung, turning toward their youngest with wide eyes. “What?”

Taehyung didn’t feel much different as he tilted his head to get a clearer view.

“The solo. The one I’ve been working on – I didn’t want to show you, remember?”

Namjoon nodded, exceptionally slow for once, even as Taehyung’s face melted into a grin. As expected from the Golden Maknae.

“It’s going to be dedicated to you.” Jungkook’s own eyes were wide, too, like he’d surprised himself. He continued with an increasingly deeper shade of red in his face. “It’s not really a solo, we didn’t tell you – Yoongi-hyung has a part, and – He helped me with mine, too, a lot. It’s almost finished.”

Taehyung whistled before the silence could become awkward. “Wow, Kook-ah. You never half-ass anything, do you?”

“You’re dedicating it to me?” It was a whisper, an unintentional slip that Namjoon didn’t even realize as he slowly straightened. “Why?”

“I – what do you mean?” Jungkook faltered, like Namjoon had asked why he became a singer. “Because – You’re you – You always take care of us on top of everything else, you keep us together whenever we start drifting, you put the group over anything else, and the concept of the last album was almost entirely your idea and it was amazing…”

Namjoon was staring at Jungkook like hypnotized, with confusion and wonder in his wide eyes, for once like Jungkook had hung the moon instead of the other way around.

Jungkook seemed to be overwhelmed by the intensity, his gaze fleeting over to Taehyung instead. “I was going to ask for your opinion with the video, and maybe something in the background, too, but I didn’t have the chance since the award show.”

Taehyung grinned at him, flattered that their Golden Maknae was asking him for help, but this wasn’t about him yet. He gave Namjoon a weak kick from behind, who stumbled forward, but quickly caught himself.

“I – But last week –”

Taehyung barely held back an annoyed groan.

“You can change your mind, you know – I wasn’t fair to any of you, and I didn’t behave like a leader at all. It would be perfectly understandable if you changed your mind -”

Jungkook’s frown deepened with every word out of Namjoon’s mouth, squinting bewilderedly by the end. “Hyung, I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t sure.”

“But… I thought…” Namjoon turned around to glance at Taehyung with a lost expression.

But Jungkook spoke again before Taehyung could comment. “Namjoon-hyung. I still don’t understand half of what’s going on, and I don’t get why you’re angry at me out of nowhere, but it’s going to take a lot more to make me think that I’ve been wrong about you my entire life.”

Namjoon opened his mouth, but while Taehyung was fighting hard to hold back a big ‘told-you-so’, he seemed lost in words. An oddly frequent occurrence these days. “I – I don’t know what to say.”

“You could start by telling me why you’re angry.” And suddenly, behind the poorly façade of a flat look, it was Jungkook from years ago, the one who would ask his hyungs just like that and attune his north according to the answer, that would change his world for their single word.

“Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” Namjoon stumbled forward, embracing the thirteen-year-old and their muscle monster simultaneously. “I’m sorry. Of course I’m not angry at you. I was just being stupid – I’m sorry for treating you like that.”

Jungkook blinked owlishly over his shoulder at Taehyung at the unexpected display of physical affection from Namjoon, even as he returned the hug instinctively. “It’s okay, hyung. I just wanted to understand, it’s okay.”

Namjoon shook his head. “No, I’ve been an idiot, and a dick and an asshole – I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m a terrible hyung -”

“I have several songs saying the opposite now, but you can think whatever, I guess.” Jungkook laughed, as carefree as Taehyung had missed him.

It felt nice, sure. But at the same time… Taehyung would be a bad hyung if he let that grin stay too long, right? “Jungkook-ssi? Are you sure you had the authority to disclose that piece of information already?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened to the size of two full moons as he pulled back enough to dart between Namjoon and Taehyung. “You can’t tell Yoongi-hyung. He’ll kill me. Literally. He said he’d lance me with the insides of his least favourite pen if I told anyone again –”

“Taehyung? Did you call me?” Hoseok’s head popped around the corner, immediately smiling as he took in the scene – the ridiculous pair, Taehyung assumed, because Taehyung lying somewhere in the background wouldn’t call for adoration like that.

“I did. We’re creating happy memories for Namjoon-ie-hyung. Thought you’d want to join.”

Hoseok’s face lit up further. “I love happy memories!”

“Too late, I already made the best one,” Jungkook chimed in proudly, shifting only enough to slide Namjoon’s arm over his shoulder, the threat of Yoongi already forgotten.

“It’s true,” Namjoon nodded, “I’m very honoured and happy right now.” He gestured at his face, remnants of the teary eyes still shining bright.

“Not fair, I was helping Jin-hyung with the groceries! Besides, he’s my best friend, back off, maknae!”

Jungkook let out a devilish laugh. “Golden Maknae strikes again!”

“Namjoon, tell the brat to stay in line!”

Namjoon turned back to send a wink down at Taehyung before facing Hoseok again. “He did move up a couple spots, though.”

Taehyung chuckled as he watched Hoseok charged them with a loud “Traitors!” and tackled both onto Namjoon’s bed, promptly starting a wrestling match.

Taehyung didn’t sit up to watch them, their laughter painting a picture of Jungkook tangled in the covers under his hyungs, screeching like a banshee as he was punched and manhandled by Hoseok. He didn’t fight the smile as he took a deep breath, letting his body relax into the carpeted floor.

He barely registered a curious Yoongi letting himself be dragged into the fray, with a sudden personal mission to hurt Jungkook as someone mentioned the song. They were calling for Taehyung, too, between their laughter and cries, but Taehyung had just restored a chunk of peace in the chaos, he’d earned himself a couple moments of not moving, so he didn’t budge from his sweet spot until Yoongi’s face appeared over the edge of the bed, right above Taehyung’s head.

“You okay, down there?” He wasn’t worried yet, but attentive enough, ignoring the fact that he was currently smothering Jungkook with a Ryan plushie, the tip of Jungkook’s black strands barely visible. He lifted it for a second, just enough for Jungkook to take a breath and call for Taehyung’s help before pressing it back down.

Taehyung ignored Jungkook. “Yep. Just a little tired.”

“Do you want me to bring you to your room?” Yoongi asked, a hint of concern behind his frown.

Taehyung shook his head.

Yoongi shrugged, opened his mouth to say continue, but Jungkook’s struggles came to a sudden stop as he went limb under him. For a second, something real passed through his eyes as he peered down onto Jungkook, before it reverted to indifference. “Oi, I think we need a new maknae!” He called over his shoulder, where Namjoon and Hoseok had cooled down, too. “This one’s dead.”

“Just take Taehyung, I like him better anyway,” came Hoseok’s distracted answer.

“You hear that, Taehyung? Congratulations on your new position.” Yoongi winked at him before he returned to watching Jungkook’s face with a mischievous grin. “Hope you’re not as nosy as the old one.”

Jungkook, to his credit, didn’t seem to break character despite Yoongi’s provocations, because the rapper continued. “You can have his room, too, if you want.”

Taehyung laughed. “Noo… I can’t be the maknae, I can’t bear the responsibilities!”

Yoongi threw him an annoyed look. “What responsibilities? Being lazy? Nosy? Spilling all the secrets?” He squinted, one of his rare competitive expressions in place. “How do I check if he’s really dead? This corpse is pouting.”

“Third rib from the bottom on the right,” Taehyung answered immediately, well knowing Jungkook was going to jump the second Yoongi would touch his tickly sides.

As expected, Jungkook let out a loud screech, and before Taehyung knew it, Yoongi was sent flying over him – wide eyes, small mouth, that surprised expression, innocent like a kid – rocks and stone and death –

Taehyung had watched Yoongi a thousand times since that night.

With a thud, Yoongi landed next to Taehyung, almost on top of him –

“Whoaa, hyung…” Jungkook’s whiny voice shaking from laughter was far, far away, as Taehyung scrambled to sit up. “Don’t do risky stuff like that.” He sounded complaining, just a tiny bit apologetic, making no big deal because falling from bed was fine.

But Taehyung couldn’t move, staring and Yoongi’s face as his own heart was racing for no reason. Yoongi was fine -

Yoongi was paper white, too, jerky as he sat up like the ground was covered in needles, looking around –

He met Taehyung’s eyes, and for a moment they were sitting on the riverside again, on the pebbles and trying to understand what had just happened, before the present was back. He reached for Taehyung’s hand. “I’m fine.” He could be assuring Taehyung or himself. “I’m fine.”

Taehyung nodded, squeezing the hand in his. “You’re fine.”

“Are you alright?” Now Jungkook sounded concerned as he inched closer on the bed, eyes darting between the two of them.

“Aish, Jungkook-ah! You can’t just throw your hyungs around like that!” Yoongi gestured with his hand, once again braver than Taehyung, because he was already smiling, even as he didn’t let go of Taehyung’s hand.

“Hey!” A stern voice made all of them freeze at once. “I explicitly told you to take care of my patient, and you throw him around?” Seokjin was standing in the doorframe, arms at his hips, and a murder glare in his eyes.

Yoongi squeezed Taehyung’s hand again, and Taehyung felt himself relax as he nodded back. They were fine. Some might not be in a minute, judging from Seokjin’s harsh stride, but Taehyung knew he was not the target of that fire. Besides, he was getting out of a lot with a couple fake coughs anyway.

Chapter Text

Taehyung was fine. He could, and would, swear on it, if he thought there was a chance to convince the members.

But the slightest increase in his temperature and a soft cough were enough for serious eyes, a panicked call for the doctors, the doubling of vitamin-C-delivering fruits in the household and an utter disregard of Taehyung’s own assessment of the situation.

And knowing they had made sure he wasn’t alone and frightened for a whole week was the sole reason he didn’t slam the door in their faces when he felt like a toddler cursed with a cute face, getting pinched and cuddled and passed from one disrespectful auntie to another.

So, he closed his eyes, let out a controlled breath, praying for patience as he tried to tune out the three pairs of eyes watching him eat like hawks with various degrees of disguise. He opened his eyes just in time for Jungkook to frown.

“What is it? Why aren’t you eating?”

“I just swallowed my bite, Jungkook,” Taehyung gritted between his teeth.

Jungkook nodded, oblivious to Taehyung’s rising annoyance, staring at the noodles like an idiot. “But you eat faster, usually. Are you losing your appetite again?”

“No, but I’m about to lose something else,” Taehyung bit back.

Jungkook looked up at his words. “What is it? Are you in pain? What are you losing?”

“Jungkook, back off,” Namjoon intervened gently, saving Taehyung from boiling over by mere milliseconds.

Namjoon was pretending to read. At the kitchen table. Which was disappointing, coming from Namjoon, and only slightly better than Jungkook’s unabashed stare. But better. “Let him eat in peace.”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m just trying to make sure he’s not relapsing -”

‘Relapsing’. Like he was an addict or something. “I’m not, so leave me alone.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at Taehyung’s tone, which – not fair. He should have taken the hints Taehyung had been shoving into his face. He had no right to look like a kicked puppy.

“I’m fine,” he added, tuning down his voice into a something softer. “I know it, it’s just something small, probably gone by tomorrow. Trust me.”

“Given your track record, you can’t really fault us for not trusting your gut feeling with this, Taehyung-ah.” Seokjin threw in, closing the dishwasher and bringing his and Namjoon’s coffee to the table.

“Excuse me, my gut feeling has been nothing but perfect. I know what I can handle,” Taehyung retorted, slightly offended at the accusation. He might not have always been reasonable about it, and it wasn’t accurate to a ‘t’, but his body was usually good at communicating its status.

“Yeah, that’s why you were knocked out for a week.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “We had to work, hyung, and I took a calculated risk to prolong my fever in favour of finishing the MVs.”

“Well, you’ve clearly miscalculated, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I knew it was getting bad. Not this bad of course, but I did mention it to Namjoon-hyung, didn’t I?”

He glanced over to Namjoon just as the other tensed up.

“Oh, did you now?” Seokjin’s voice was soft, sweet almost, but his smile was cold as ice, dripping off his face as he slowly turned to Namjoon. “What exactly did you tell him, Taehyung-ie? And how exactly did he allow you to work despite that?”

The temperature in the kitchen dropped within seconds, and Taehyung looked at Jungkook for an explanation, but the younger was watching the older two members with apprehension in his eyes. “He tried to stop me…” But no one was paying Taehyung attention anymore.

“He said he was feeling up to it,” Namjoon answered, not wavering under Seokjin’s glare just yet, but not with the conviction he usually defended his decisions with either. “I can’t force him to take a break.”

“Yes, you can.” Seokjin interrupted him cooly, and Namjoon froze at the words as sharp as bullets.

Whether intended or not, they hurt Taehyung, too. “Hey! I can make my own decisions -”

Seokjin interrupted him with a fierce look. “You’re not seriously still thinking that it was a good decision, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung drew back at the glare. “Maybe not, but that’s no one’s fault but mine, and he –”

“It is, if he knew that you weren’t taking care of yourself properly. Especially if he’s the reason for it in the first place.”

Shit.

Regret crept on Seokjin’s face within a single second, but the words had already pulled down the temperature in the kitchen, irreversible as a wound. He only dared a hesitant look at Namjoon, who had shrunken in his seat, his head lowered in retreat.

The elephant was loud in the room, locking their breaths for a moment.

Salvation came in form of an angel. His name was Jimin.

He opened the door lazily, leaning onto the frame, one hand holding his phone at his ear, the other waving Namjoon’s. An amused smile was adorning his face, clueless to the tension in the room. “No, Haneul-ssi, don’t worry. He’s fine. He’s a bit distracted these days, I’m sure it just slipped his mind or something…” He gave Namjoon an amused look. “Yeah, I know it doesn’t seem like that at first, but it happens. Forgets his phone and stuff… Yes, I’ll tell him to give you a call.”

Taehyung and Jungkook turned to Namjoon in twin motions, seeing their leader’s eyes wide and his face in an embarrassed grimace.

“Shit,” Namjoon muttered under his breath. “I forgot about lunch.”

Jimin nodded at him pointedly, still listening to the phone. “No, please don’t worry, Haneul-ssi. I’m sure he just forgot. And I’ll make sure he makes it up to you.” He laughed as the other person’s frantic voice rose enough to be audible. “Nah, I told you already, we have our own methods to deal with our leader. I’ll take care of it… Have a nice day.” He laughed again. “Yeah, you, too.” He ended the call with a soft chuckle before turning to Namjoon again. “You left my dongsaeng hanging, Namjoon-ssi!”

He threw Namjoon’s phone in an arc, but Jungkook caught it before Namjoon could butcher the fall, taking a look at the screen.

“Three missed calls and five messages from Jeon Haneul.” Jungkook looked up at Namjoon. “Jeon Haneul? Is he from that group­?”

“Yeah, he’s the leader of the junior group,” Namjoon replied absent-mindedly, gesturing for his phone. “I promised to take him out for lunch today. I totally forgot.”

“Well, he was concerned. And very confused. You know how he is, he immediately thought he got it wrong, despite both of his calendars. Poor kid.”

‘How he is’? “What do you mean?” Taehyung picked up the thread Jimin had laid out, determined not to let the conversation fall back until the earlier tension had dissipated completely.

Jimin chuckled. “Oh yeah, you didn’t meet him yet. He’s a little over-motivated, too organised, and scared as hell to make a mistake. He’s cute.”

“He’s not that bad,” Namjoon muttered while going through his phone.

“He’s not bad,” Jimin laughed. “He’s really lovable. Especially with his hero-worship-thing he has with Namjoon.” He winked at Taehyung, whispering conspiratorially. “A real fanboy, Taehyung, like kissing-the-ground-he-walks-on kind. You have to see it.”

“Oh, really?” Taehyung gave Namjoon a quick glance, and yep, the rapper was blushing as he tried to act like he was too busy to listen to them.

Jimin chuckled again as he drew the chair between Seokjin and Jungkook to sit down, taking a sip out of Seokjin’s black coffee and putting it back with a grimace. Seokjin swatted at him. “Yeah. He reminds me of Jungkook when he was young and impressionable, actually. And apparently Namjoon-hyung, too, because he called him ‘Jungkook’ twice last time.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically, and instead of denying his obsession like he usually would, he turned slowly to Namjoon in an eery imitation of Seokjin earlier. “Oh, did he now?”

Namjoon raised his head. “Because we were talking about your dance. I was already thinking of you.”

Jungkook blinked with a threatening smile. “Both times?”

Namjoon gave him a flat look. “The other time I was missing my favourite dongsaeng, the one and only Golden Maknae, while I was trapped amidst all those immature and annoying children.”

Jungkook’s smile widened as he straightened, shoulders shaking like a satisfied child. “Ah, okay then.” His eyes were laughing, too, like they always did when he caught the compliments he was fishing for.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, failing to hide a smile while he shook his head. Across the table, Seokjin’s mouth curled up, too, and Jungkook winked at Taehyung, knowing exactly the effect his antics had on the elder members.

“Uhm… I – I should call him back…” Namjoon trailed off as sudden as he started, already in position to stand up, glancing at Seokjin, unsure how to continue.

Seokjin looked up. “You’re still going?”

“If it’s not too tight with his schedule… I think he was looking forward to it.”

Seokjin sighed, then made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go be great, leader-nim, we can’t keep you to ourselves.”

Namjoon nodded hesitantly, and made his way out of the kitchen, before Seokjin’s voice made him stop in his tracks again.

“Do you want me to pick you up after?"

“It’s okay,” Namjoon shook his head with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to –”

Seokjin raised his brows. “But I can. And I would.”  

Taehyung couldn’t help it as he met first Jungkook’s, then Jimin’s eyes, both of them just as lost as Taehyung. The conversation was hidden between the lines, just out of reach for them – and still. The offer carried an olive branch recognizable even for bystanders.

It was enough to smooth the unease out of Namjoon's features, to give life to that smile. “I know. You would." He waved at the others, and, just as Taehyung was about to wave back, pointed at the noodles. “Finish that.”

Taehyung groaned. Loudly.

Chapter Text

It came out of nowhere.

Well, not really. It came in less than 24 hours after their first talk, in the evening, after Namjoon had taken care of the junior leader. But it came without a warning.

Taehyung was pretty sure Namjoon had planned it to be that way, not giving Taehyung the time to work up his anxiety like he tended to do. One second, he was watching a “try-not-to-laugh” compilation Hoseok had sent into the group chat with Jimin in the living room, the other, Namjoon was in the entrance with a careful smile. “What are you guys doing?”

Jimin, who’d lost the challenge after the second clip, grinned up from next to Taehyung from the couch. “Hey, hyung-ie. Just watching some videos.”

“Ah.” Namjoon’s eyes flickered to Taehyung, almost questioningly. “Cool. I’ll leave you to it, then -”

Taehyung straightened, careful not to break the already cracked remote that should be somewhere underneath. “What’s up, hyung? Did you want something?”

“Nah, it’s okay, I’ll find you later –” He stepped back to leave.

“Hyung,” Taehyung called for him, giving Jimin a tiny nudge with his elbow. If Namjoon had come to him to talk, he wanted to get it over with.

“I’m leaving,” Jimin said, catching on immediately. “It was the last clip, anyway, and I have stuff to take care of.” 

“I didn’t mean to kick you out, Jimin-ie,” Namjoon protested weakly.

“Pfft. I’m welcome everywhere Taetae is, hyung, I thought we established that.” Jimin hopped off, grabbing his soda and pointed at Taehyung. “Don’t watch the other without me.” He didn’t wait for Taehyung’s response and squeezed past Namjoon with a ‘see you later’ before their leader could stop him, vanishing into the hallway.

Namjoon looked after him for a couple seconds before he took a breath, steeling himself for the conversation.

Taehyung smiled at the familiar quirk. One deep breath, and out Namjoon could push all the hesitation and anxiety and just start. In a meeting, an interview or a speech. Or a nerve-wracking talk with his members.

Namjoon smiled back briefly, visibly relieved at Taehyung’s expression. “So… I owe you an apology, don’t I?”

“Time.” Taehyung corrected him, gesturing to the empty space next to him on the couch as he slid back. “You promised me a little time, and that you’ll listen.”

Namjoon’s expression faltered before smoothing out again. He nodded, then approached the couch, sitting carefully on the side, his back straight. “I’ve put it off long enough, right?” He looked at Taehyung, open and efficient in his usual Namjoon-fashion.

“Can I start?” Taehyung heard himself ask instead of an answer, surprising himself. But it made sense, didn’t it? Taehyung’s apology came first, in the chronology of events.

Namjoon considered him with a tilted look. They seemed to be leaving the script he had prepared, but Namjoon was always ready to match his members. He shrugged. “Sure. If you want to.”

Taehyung nodded. He swallowed subtly as he shifted his feet and pulled his legs under him. Finally, he was getting another chance. He wasn’t going to waste it. He quickly called up on the past weeks, all the words shoved back into his throat until he couldn’t breathe, either by Namjoon’s cold voice or his own spiralling thoughts, all the sentences bouncing between the walls of his skull, reminding him of his mistake, the helplessness of not being able to fix anything. All of it boiled down to surprisingly little words. “I’m sorry, hyung. I’m really, truly sorry.”

Namjoon opened his mouth, but Taehyung raised his hand.

“Please let me speak. I know I already apologized once, but I think we both weren’t ready at that time. So, please let me do this.”

Namjoon nodded.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I punched someone and risked my own and our all’s career. I’m sorry that you had to deal with that mess, and I am very sorry that you had to apologize in my stead to someone you hate.”

Namjoon’s expression steeled at the mention of the incident, eyes trained on a stray sweater that had ended up on the single sofa across them, not looking in Taehyung’s direction.

“I know it was a big deal, and a very difficult thing to do. I am very sorry you felt like it had to be you. I would’ve done anything to save you from that.” He paused.

Namjoon nodded again. “I know.”

“And if there was any way I could take it back, any of it, the punch, the apology, all that stuff haunting you – I would. In a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Namjoon repeated, his voice steady, like he really did know, like Taehyung’s words were old news.

“Hyung, I’m really sorry.” Taehyung swallowed, searching for new words, for a way to draw it on a huge canvas, for anything to measure the magnitude of his regret. He wanted to add to what Namjoon already knew, he wanted to offer more than what Namjoon had gotten, he wanted Namjoon to understand. “I didn’t think – He kept saying those things, and he – maybe I shouldn’t have taken it seriously, but he was starting to throw around threats and – and I wanted to make him stop. I’m not saying it was right, I shouldn’t have punched him, I know – but I really thought he’d done worse. I really thought there was no way I would end up as the bad guy, I thought he wouldn’t dare to make a big issue out of it, because he started it. I know it doesn’t make it right, I know it was a mistake, but I didn’t think it could be this huge.”

“I know.” Namjoon pressed back, turning away his face ever so slightly. “I know you are sorry, Taehyung. I knew it, when you first looked at me after that fight. And I know you wouldn’t have done it if you knew it would end up like this.” He forced a breath, his fingers unconsciously running over the injuries on his hand. His mouth twitched, looked at Taehyung apologetically with the haunt of a smile. “I’m not blind, you know? You’re a performer, you can write books with your eyes alone, do you think I can’t read it?”

“I would have done it. Do you know that, too? I wouldn’t have let you – I would have done it.” For the first time, Taehyung’s voice wavered, in tandem with the moisture clouding his eyes, too loud in the silence. “Yoongi-hyung said it wouldn’t have mattered if I had known, but – did you know?” The thought that Namjoon hadn’t seen another option was a wire around Taehyung’s heart, the possibility that his brother hadn’t trusted him when Taehyung trusted him with every decision of his life.

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he straightened, meeting Taehyung’s without hesitation. “Of course.” There was an uncomprehending frown, and his eyes flickered between Taehyung’s, the confusion in his features a proof for the words on his tongue. “Both of us knew you wouldn’t – that wasn’t a question, Taehyung. I know you wouldn’t have just watch me go in there.”

Taehyung swallowed, looking at the conviction in Namjoon’s eyes. “Then why did you do it? When you knew I was just a phone call away, why didn’t you just call me? You wouldn’t have to – We could have prevented all this, maybe, or most of it, why – You’re having flashbacks, hyung!”

Namjoon frowned. “It’s not that bad –”

But Taehyung didn’t let him diminish his issues, because someone had to be fair to Namjoon if he wasn’t himself. “That’s what you said – that moment keeps haunting you –”

“It’s not flashbacks, Taehyung,” Namjoon insisted, “I’m not traumatized or something –”

Taehyung stopped, because Namjoon had that dark look to his eyes again, and frankly, he didn’t care what Namjoon wanted to call it. “But it’s here again, isn’t it?” His voice dropped as Namjoon frowned deeper like forcibly trying to supress the thoughts. “It’s here again, still hurting you.”

Namjoon looked away immediately, and Taehyung wished he could steal all those memories and bury them in a ditch far away.

“Why didn’t you just let me do it?”

Namjoon was leaning away, away from Taehyung’s accusations, scowling into the distance. His fingers were running over his injured hand, almost massaging it. “It wasn’t fair.” The words echoed in the room, despite the low volume. “You didn’t deserve it. I didn’t want to make you.”

“But...” Taehyung forced himself to stop. He forced himself to remember the tedious way to a calm conversation about something that had shaken their whole team. He forced himself to remember the regret after acting harshly so many times now.

He started again, calmer. “Maybe I shouldn’t be complaining, but – I thought you didn’t trust me to do it, when I first found out. And before that, too, when I couldn’t understand your anger – it really scared me, hyung.” He shifted in his seat, reached for the remote still stuck under his leg. “What you said at the kitchen table – of course I respect the effort everyone puts in. We did it together – I was there, when they all did. And you’re supposed to know that. You, of all people, used to know that.” His voice almost broke, so he stopped.

He was angry, for all the worry and fear and horrors of a whole week that could have been avoided if Namjoon hadn’t protected him like that. For all the days Taehyung sat in the dark, because even knowing would have spared him half the demons in his head. But all the anger kept bleeding into a pool of pain, because Namjoon was already lowering his head in shame without Taehyung yelling and revolting. “I couldn’t understand why you weren’t just telling me what you were thinking, like you usually do, why you weren’t even trying when I was –” His breath hitched again, and though Namjoon wasn’t looking at him, he was here, right where Taehyung had wished him to be. “I was hoping for any kind word, or just a chance, honestly, and you looked like you didn’t care. It scared me. Because I thought I knew you, too, and I kept thinking, ‘he wouldn’t hate me just like that, he wouldn’t give up on me, not without talking to me’, but you were just gone –” Taehyung couldn’t tear his eyes from the plastic in his hands, fingers scratching at the knobs almost violently, like he could peel the fears out of his brain like that.

Namjoon had tensed, too, he’d turned to him, and restraining himself from cutting in, from reaching out.

Taehyung was grateful, because he wouldn’t fight it if Namjoon interrupted him now. “I couldn’t stop it, hyung. And maybe it was stupid, but I would’ve done anything to make that stop. I wouldn’t have cared about what I deserve from management.”

He wondered if it would be too much, to say, ‘That wasn’t fair, either’, because Namjoon’s nails were at his scrapes on his hand again, tense and ready, like they would make him bleed into that same pool without him noticing if Taehyung said the wrong thing, like Namjoon would crumble, or retreat, if Taehyung got too bold. But Namjoon had come to him. Taehyung had waited, had trusted him, had known Namjoon would reach out, despite everything. Namjoon wouldn’t run now, wouldn’t hide again.

Taehyung trusted him, once more. “That wasn’t fair, either.”

Namjoon’s frown twitched minutely, but he straightened in Taehyung’s pause, and turned his body towards Taehyung after a second, drawing one leg under him. “You’re right. You didn’t deserve that either.” His eyes fell on the remote that Taehyung was turning anxiously. “It’s complicated, and I’ll do my best to explain myself and apologize, but I want to make something clear first.” He looked Taehyung straight in the eye.

“I would never give up on you. Ever. I didn’t think about it then, and I won’t think about it in the future. No matter what you do, and no matter what kind of bullshit I say, I don’t want you to think even for a second that that was a possibility in all this.” His eyes were piercing, like he was fighting the urge to shake it out of Taehyung. “It’s my fault you had that impression, but it wasn’t true. Okay? Nothing has changed. I’m still Namjoon, and I’m still here for you, whatever happens.”

Taehyung held Namjoon’s open but fierce gaze, even as his eyes blurred, and found that he believed him. Maybe he was naïve, maybe stupid, maybe he was wide-eyed and trusting too easily. But he believed him.

And while that transformed his fears into a restrained scream of ‘then why did you let me think that?!’, it also freed his chest from the last chains. The demons had left, and he was free, he wasn’t crippled by the fear of making another mistake. He was safe. He could scream at Namjoon if he wanted to.

He didn’t. Not yet. “Okay. I believe you.”

Namjoon relaxed imperceptibly. He nodded curtly, his eyes darting away for a second as he collected his thoughts. “Taehyung… The way I acted, that I didn’t listen, it was never a punishment, or a lesson.” He frowned. “It wasn’t even really a reaction to what you did. It was my poor handling of the events, and nothing else.”

He looked up, careful and firm, a balance that he’d perfected over the years. “I mean, it’s not my job or place to teach you right from wrong. But ethics aside, in an overwhelming majority of the cases, punching someone won’t be worth the potential damage in our line of work.” He continued after Taehyung’s quick nod. “And still, if I could’ve handled it with professionalism, and the consequences would’ve been much less personal and hurtful.” He sighed, his expression softening just like that. “Because I get it, you know? I know you, and – and I know him. I know this didn’t come out of nowhere.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Pan Jungdae is evil. He has harmed a lot of people, and he’s done enough to deserve much worse than a punch. I know how he gets under your skin. For all the IQ he’s lacking, he knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he’s – like I said, he’s a real piece of shit. And seeing you angry when we found you, and even at the breakfast table, I don’t need to know what happened. I trust you.”

Taehyung breathed out. Namjoon had trusted him. Still trusted him. It was both soothing and burning in his chest. But they had hit the catch of the story, the one that still made Namjoon twitch and hesitate. The reason he had turned his anger on Taehyung.

“And maybe anyone else would have done the same, but…” He swallowed, his voice losing its strength, its fight. “… but I didn’t.” Namjoon’s voice fell into a whisper as he shrugged helplessly. Other people were louder, once their heart opened and received a voice, but Namjoon – Namjoon’s most private thoughts had always been as quiet as the whispers of ancient souls. “I didn’t, when I had to listen to him, work with him, when he was breathing down my neck – I held back the punches and sharpened my words and walked away whenever it wasn’t enough, waiting for the days I wouldn’t have to. All to prevent this. Because we’ve always known that for us, it’s enough to mess up once.” When he finally looked up, pain was shining in his eyes. There was fire, too, but it wasn’t destructive, it was just there, like a flame with only the slightest amount of oxygen, trapped in the state of suffocating.

“I did everything I could, I proved myself to the world over and over – like you said, you know what it took. How many long nights and how much hate and all the obstacles we had to overcome. How we held on with bleeding hands, hoping it would stay in the past, that we wouldn’t have to think about any of that once we make it. And we did. And we were – we are doing fine. But suddenly -” His voice cracked, and he turned away again, this time over the back of the couch.

The remote between Taehyung’s fingers creaked, and he tried to shake off the sudden tension in his body. His fingers traced around the knobs in his blurry vision. He blinked, and tears fell past his hands, swallowed by the fabric of the couch.

“Suddenly all of that was gone. I was in that room, and he was talking the same shit, and I had to take it, or everything would have fallen apart. All the hard work, all the years, – we would’ve lost everything. I had to take it.” Namjoon chuckled ironically, and his voice was just as bitter as it had been a day before. “And he still knows how to push your buttons.”

“It hit the mark, Taehyung. It felt worse than when we were kids, because we aren’t anymore. We’re grown adults, and we’ve all built the beliefs we trust and lines we draw and the life we want. And regardless of how much I tell myself that he doesn’t matter, he managed to rattle all of that, once more.” He breathed out shakily. “It might have been the worst day of my life. And I couldn’t walk away, the way you could have.”

Taehyung forced a calm breath, slow and steady. He wanted to cut in, he wanted to interrupt the words that were just as tormenting as the hateful looks in the first week, but Namjoon deserved to release his demons just as much as Taehyung had. For the first time he wondered though, if it was mercy that he hadn't known all of this from the first day, that he’d been left wondering what had made Namjoon hate him instead of knowing how hurt his friend had been all this time. The guilt crushing him now wouldn’t have allowed him to carry hope, wouldn’t have let the naïve promise from Yoongi’s studio pass his lips.

Namjoon continued, more careful of his words. “You guys underestimate how much I depend on you, sometimes. But I am always aware of that. Whenever there is something big, something overwhelming, I can deal with it, knowing you guys are right there and have my back. And this time, I needed Kim Taehyung.”

He chuckled dryly. “I told you already. You make life a lot easier sometimes.” He sighed, tapping against the far end of the remote, sending the vibrations through to Taehyung’s fingertips. “But it felt like I couldn’t count on you this time, because you caused it in the first place. Maybe that’s why I failed to handle this professionally. You resurrected a monster I thought I had defeated, brought it back into my live, my room, my head… And then, at breakfast, I chickened out, I couldn’t tell the others, and – suddenly I was all alone, at a place I expected it the least.” His voice dropped into a whisper, “And when I felt him towering over me, in our kitchen, I just lost it. I freaked out. Felt like I would never get rid of him. And you…” He broke off, before his voice melted into something much gentler, and a hand landed on Taehyung’s shoulder. “Taehyung...”

Taehyung sniffed as he wiped the tears sneaking out of the corners of his eyes despite his efforts to hold them back. Namjoon’s words had pierced holes in his composure, and he couldn’t control the flow. He could only ignore them, knowing they had already interrupted Namjoon.

“I’m not – It’s not an excuse. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. I’m just trying to explain why I acted like that. I should’ve told you from the beginning instead of throwing around hurtful words. I was wrong to hurt you. Instead of being transparent of what happened and letting you do your part, with work but also with our relationship, I drew back and blamed you for things that weren’t your fault. As your friend, I should’ve given you an explanation on my reactions. I should’ve never forgotten that I chose to be there. It was my decision, and I never regretted it, through all of that. Not once. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I was wrong. And I’m really, really sorry for that. I know you trusted me –”

And that made Taehyung’s deep breath shake, embarrassingly, loudly, because that had been the worst, hadn’t it? He’d trusted Namjoon, and Namjoon had come back a stranger.

Namjoon didn’t reach for him again, but his voice was laced with pain. “I’m really sorry, Taehyung. I hope you can forgive me for that. And I hope you can find trust in me again, after I disappointed you.”

His words hung heavily in the air, echoing from the walls around them.

Taehyung sniffed, twice. Swallowed down the wetness clogging his throat.

Something touched his hand. Taehyung flinched, but the Namjoon’s injured fingers held his trembling ones in place.

Namjoon was looking at him, eyes suffering but firm, ready to push through. “Taehyung. I’m sorry I avoided you, didn’t talk to you, made you feel scared in your own home. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t trust me anymore.” He pulled at Taehyung’s hand, and suddenly Taehyung’s head was buried against Namjoon’s chest.

“You asked me if I didn’t miss you, remember?” He took a deep breath through Taehyung’s hair, and Taehyung followed instinctively, taking in the scent that had found him after a butchered recital years ago and hadn’t stopped comforting ever since, even as his sniff was muffled against his brother’s soft shirt. “I don’t remember missing anything like I missed you that week. It was like taking a piece out of the picture and then keep looking for it, like I was forcibly keeping you away and tearing everything apart with that force. It was so stupid. You were right here, and I caused so much pain, for everyone, but for you the most. I’ve been an insufferable dick, ask Yoongi or Hoseok, like a stupid toddler burning the house down because it can’t understand that it’s just fucking tired.”

His arms grew stronger, and Taehyung felt his own trembles against Namjoon’s chest.

“Taehyung. I could never give up on you. Any of you, and you, specifically.” Namjoon exhaled, relaxing even further onto Taehyung, strangely strengthening his support simultaneously. His arm went further around Taehyung’s back. “I’m the luckiest bastard in this world to have such amazing people around me. My greatest accomplishment is to keep that in my life, to not lose this.”

His arms were firm around Taehyung’s back, his hand searching for a hold like Taehyung was about to slip out.

“Having you guys around is a given for me, like the sky is blue and sun is bright. Maybe that's why I didn't treat it as seriously as I should have when Yoongi told me I was going too far. I didn’t understand how much you were doubting me. At breakfast – and after, too – I was just terrified, I didn’t stop to consider what you were thinking. I kept lashing out, kept being stupid, and I thought it was obvious. It wasn’t fair to you, but that’s what I thought at that moment. I had done it for you, and I would do it again. A thousand times if necessary. I didn’t think I needed to remind you of that. What else am I supposed to do? Let a psycho ruin your career, your life? Let him tear us apart? Of course, I would.”

Taehyung pulled back from Namjoon’s hold, putting his own arm above Namjoon’s to regain some distance. “No, hyung. You’re supposed to let me deal with my own shit. Just because you’re our leader doesn’t mean that you have to take this for me.” He turned away to hide the frustrated scowl that was meant for himself.

“No.”

Taehyung’s eyes snapped up.

“I know I messed up, but not with this.” Namjoon hesitated first, but he continued. “This wasn’t just me sacrificing myself or anything, Taehyung. That manager – he’s still freaking out that he’ll get blamed for how he handled everything. And he should be, because as much as it started with your punch and the footage Jungdae’s staff cut down, it continued with poor decisions out of panic from our manager. And he’s not been with our company for too long, he’s hoping for a long career still, so he's been trying to put it on us. On you, specifically.”

“It still would’ve been fairer than you doing everything –”

“It would’ve been dangerous, Taehyung. You would’ve lost all the privileges we’ve fought hard for, all the autonomy – a breach of contract like this would’ve put you back to square one.”

A cold feeling spread in Taehyung’s stomach, like when he’d been waiting for Namjoon to come home that day. He barely dared to move, even for a couple quiet words. “But now… It’s everyone, not just me…”

Namjoon shook his head calmly. “It’s not. He didn’t dare to make a big issue out of this, because he knows we wouldn’t let his contribution slide either. He can’t get a ‘clear’ mark in his records by ruining yours. We made that clear when we chose to stand with you. When BTS apologized, not Taehyung.”

“When you apologized,” Taehyung muttered before he let out a long breath, but the weight on his chest that had built up in just a couple minutes didn’t taper. What a mess. Once again, he wished he could turn back in time to stop himself. He wished he’d done more than being butthurt over Namjoon’s mood, wished he’d actually helped.

But before he could apologize again, repetitive and useless at this point, Namjoon chuckled. “That’s just the perk of my position.” At Taehyung’s glare, he continued, unfazed. “I get to step in when they treat you guys unfairly. That’s what I signed up for. Why I signed up for it.”

“But I don’t want that,” Taehyung tried glaring at him, but Namjoon stayed unfazed.

“I don’t care. I’m not letting anyone trash you like that. Any of you. Not on my watch. If you have a problem with that, you can volunteer for leader.”

Taehyung blinked, trying to determine how much of this was a joke by staring at Namjoon’s open face, his earnest eyes for a little too long. He didn’t like what he saw.

Namjoon frowned. “Don’t look at me like that, Taehyung. I’ll take a bullet for you, and I won’t ask for permission to do it.”

Taehyung’s brain froze. It’s just a phrase, he tried to rationalize. One of the dozens of cliches we’ve told each other a hundred times already –

But Namjoon had said it just like that, like a fact, not in front of the camera or for comedic effects. Level-headed Namjoon, rarely swayed by the moment. It scared Taehyung.

The honesty, the sincerity. It felt like a threat.

“Don’t talk like that.”

Namjoon blinked, then broke into an easy smile. “Yah. There’re no bullets, don’t worry.”

Which didn’t help at all, because it still meant that if there were bullets –

Taehyung jumped as a lock clicked, and Hoseok entered the apartment with a wet Yoongi on his shoulders.

Hoseok was cackling loudly while Yoongi’s eyes were asking for an early death, though the tiny curl around his mouth was lessening the effect. “Let me down, now, or you’re going to be in the news for being killed by your own umbrella.”

“Ahh, that sounds like one of those dystopian movie plots, where kitchen appliances take over the world, doesn’t it, Joon-ah?” But he did let Yoongi slip off, and stripped out of his jacket and shoes. At a look at the pair on the couch, he winced, though. “Did we interrupt something?”

Yoongi’s eyes landed on Taehyung, carefully neutral. “Are you okay?”

Taehyung grimaced as he wiped his face, although he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the raw skin and red eyes easily. It was too late anyway. He nodded, then gave Namjoon a look. “Namjoon-hyung was talking nonsense.”

Yoongi immediately turned to Namjoon, a tiny frown building up.

“Yeah, he does that, sometimes.” Hoseok chuckled behind him.

“Hey! I just said I’d take a bullet for him, it’s not nonsense, it’s the truth.”

“That is a stupid thing to say, hyung-ie.” Jimin stepped in from the hallway. “I heard your voices, Yoongi-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, welcome back.” He smiled at them while putting his arms around Taehyung from the back, pulling him against the back of the couch in a half hug.

Taehyung looked up. “Right? It’s stupid. Like hearing that would make me happy.”

“It is,” Yoongi confirmed, and Taehyung smiled at him. “‘I’d shoot someone for you’ is much more expressive, and less helpless.”

Jimin tensed at the same time Taehyung did. “Yoongi-hyung, please don’t say you’d kill someone.”

Yoongi laughed as he finally hung his own coat on a hanger. “But I would. For you.”

Namjoon sniggered, sending soft vibrations through the couch.

“You guys need to chill,” Hoseok laughed, hiding his own discomfort much better than Jimin or Taehyung. “Why don’t we just do nice things for each other? Jimin-ie, I would bake cookies for you every day for the rest of my life.”

“Aww, thanks, hyung-iee...”

“Nice things? We almost got food poisoning last time.” Namjoon ducked into the couch as Hoseok reached for the slipper he hadn’t put on yet and threw it at Namjoon. It flew over the couch in a wide arc.

“You have never managed to not burn cookies! And just for that, you won’t get any next time!”

“Don’t worry, Hob-ah, I would still take a bullet for you.”

“Stop. Saying. That. Stuff!” The other slipper was closer, but Namjoon caught it, with a wide grin. But before he could retort with something equally infuriating, Yoongi stepped between them with appeasing hand gestures.

“Guys, don’t summon hyung with throwing objects. Let’s just agree that you guys do the cookies, and Namjoon and I take care of any bullet-related business, okay?”

Spoiler alert: They did summon Seokjin with throwing objects, and only settled until a glass shattered because of a stray magazine, thrown by Seokjin himself. He didn’t like the bullet talk either.

Taehyung didn’t promise Namjoon to die for him. Or to kill for him. But in a quiet second, when they were both ducking between the couch and the coffee table, hiding from slippers and pillows, when their eyes met and words weren’t enough to describe the feeling of having Namjoon beside him, behind him, in front of him, whenever and wherever he needed him to be, and it threatened to overrun him like an avalanche, Taehyung managed to whisper. “I would paint the world for you, hyung.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he froze, looking at Taehyung’s eyes like he could see into his thoughts. Then he smiled, eyes shining like the sun, dimples deep like his heart, blushing like hidden berries of the forest.

Taehyung grinned back. He’d just received the world, and it was so much better than stupid promises about bullets.

Chapter Text

“Well? What's the tea?”

Taehyung didn't turn from the screen or lessen the speed of his fingers dancing on the controller. Neither did Jungkook next to him.

“Taehyung-ah.”

“Hmm?” Taehyung climbed behind a wall before the sniper could catch him.

“What did Namjoon-hyung say?”

A stun grenade blinded his avatar. Taehyung ran backwards until his vision cleared. “About what?”

“Did he apologize or not?”

Taehyung frowned as he spotted the enemy –

Apologise? What - Oh. Oh. Nope. Nope, not dealing with that now. Not when he’d finally found the energy to look at a screen long enough to shoot some guys. Finding a way to handle Jimin until Namjoon decided to tell everyone – that was future-Taehyung’s problem.

He turned the joystick hastily when realised he’d forgotten to check his surroundings.

Jimin kept standing next to him like a collector, his presence bleeding into the war game Taehyung had peacefully been emerged in just minutes ago. He wanted to know what was going on, maybe rightfully so, but after Namjoon had explicitly admitted what it meant for him to find the courage to tell himself... There was no way Taehyung could give Jimin the whole truth.

He had to find a way to skip the details. And the essential parts.

Taehyung flinched at the sudden rush of rival players falling in front of him, barely making it down into the barricades.

“Ah, shit,” Jungkook muttered at the game as he realized that Taehyung had just trapped himself, but the frown above his face proved his concentration was wavering just as much.

“Taehyung.”

“Later, Jimin – can't you –” But his controller was already vibrating as he went to glory with a clean but very much avoidable shot.

Taehyung sighed. Jimin wouldn't have let him continue anyway. Not with that scowl.

Guess I just became future-Taehyung. “I died. Are you happy?” Taehyung grumbled as he leaned back in the chair and returned to the screen without really following Jungkook’s now lonely avatar, trying to gauge with how little information he could get away. Should he just tell Jimin? That he couldn’t say anything? Should he go the distraction route?

Namjoon wouldn’t need much longer to round up everyone. A day or two at most, probably. Taehyung could hold on until then.

Jimin called Taehyung’s attention with a louder exhale before tilting his head towards Jungkook in question.

That could make things easier, of course, if Taehyung could play it off as a secret Jungkook shouldn’t hear, and Jungkook might play along because he already knew anyway –

“Hey,” Jungkook protested, catching on while his eyes were still glued to his screen. “I wanna know what happened, too.”

Taehyung gave the maknae a dry look that, unfortunately, went unseen. Jimin was so much better at following cues.

Jimin cleared his throat.

“Fine, fine. There’s not much of a tea anyway.” Taehyung sighed as he gazed up at Jimin. “He apologised. I accepted. That's it.” That, for one, was definitely too little. But Jimin had that annoyed look in his eyes, and letting that go without having a little fun would be too much of a waste. Especially when he hadn’t had fun in so long.

Jimin stepped closer with a confused frown. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? Didn’t he explain anything?”

Taehyung shrugged. “‘That’s it’ means ‘that’s it’.”

Jungkook threw his hands up with a frustrated breath when his game ended, before he wordlessly put away his controller.

“Taehyung,” Jimin gritted threateningly. “I know you talked for longer than ‘sorry’ and ‘it’s okay’.”

“I apologised, too.” Taehyung said in a small voice, holding back a chuckle, knowing it was only going to infuriate Jimin. It was just too tempting. (And easier than figuring out how to keep a secret from his best friend.)

“It was longer than two ‘sorry’s, too,” Jimin hissed. He waited expectantly for a couple seconds before he snorted incredulously. “Seriously? You’re not gonna tell me anything?”

“You left the room, didn’t you? What’s the point of boundaries if I have to tell you everything afterwards anyway?” Taehyung countered, waiting for the end of Jimin’s patience to appear just around the corner.

“You know what? Fine.” A flash of hurt was barely visible before Jimin set his jaw and turned to the exit.

But Taehyung had already jumped out of his seat to slip between Jimin and the door his best friend was heading to. “Just joking, Jimin-ie. Just joking.” He laughed sheepishly, eyes glancing to an amusedly watching Jungkook for only a second.

Jimin tried to push past. “Forget it. Keep your stupid secrets if it’s going to make you happy.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Taehyung caught his shoulders with a laugh. “I’m still sick, and you know I can’t get better if Jimin-ie is angry at me... And I could still get worse, you know?” He let out a glorious cough that would make Seokjin proud.

Jimin tried to glare at him, but Taehyung saw the twitch at his lip, so he coughed again. With emphasis.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Idiot. Fine. Last chance.”

Taehyung tried to not let his grin fade as he remembered that he could not actually tell him everything.

But Jimin would understand. If Taehyung made the effort to explain it properly, he would understand. He just had to stop provoking him.

"Okay.” Taehyung took a deep breath, letting go of Jimin once he was sure he wouldn’t storm off. “First off, you were right. There was something they were hiding.”

Jimin nodded. “Obviously.”

“And you were right about the ‘he doesn’t hate you’ part, too.” Taehyung swallowed, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and Jungkook’s attentive eyes. “He was pretty insistent on that part, which,” Taehyung scratched his neck but continued, hoping Jimin wouldn’t ask for more, “which I know you already told me, too, but it was nice to have it confirmed.”

“Uh-huh.” Jimin said carefully.

“And he apologised. Said it wouldn’t happen again. Promised.”

Jimin frowned as he stared through Taehyung’s eyes, seeing right through the easy mood Taehyung was trying to set. “And you forgive him?” It was dangerous waters, with how little Taehyung’s act was distracting Jimin, considering the fear of him finding out was still right below the surface. But that was okay. That wasn’t the question.

(Yet.)

So, Taehyung held Jimin’s eyes. The ones that had supported him through that horrible week and afterward, that were checking if he was truly alright or just lying to himself. He nodded back with all the certainty he felt. It had sucked, true, but Namjoon had apologized. And it was Namjoon. Of course, he would forgive him.

“Because of that thing they were hiding?”

Taehyung paused, considering it. He still didn’t like Namjoon’s decision, so that couldn’t be the reason he’d forgiven him. “It doesn’t make it right, but it makes sense now. And because it makes sense, I can forgive him.”

Jimin squinted at him, still waging his answers.

Don't ask. Please don't ask. A pang of guilt went through Taehyung’s chest as he remembered that he had made Yoongi reveal the same secret once, but hopefully Jimin would be kinder than Taehyung had been.

Jimin didn't need to be told explicitly. “You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?” His eyes tightened into an unreadable expression.

“He wants to tell everyone himself. And he will.”

“Hmm...” Jimin frowned, turned around to Jungkook. “I guess we’ll have to wait...”

Taehyung had only a second to recognize the trap. There was only one believable reaction if Jungkook really didn’t know. But before he could warn Jungkook – 

Jungkook shrugged. “If he’s going to tell us anyway…”

Wrong answer.

“I knew it.” Jimin hissed, almost triumphantly. “I knew you heard something.”

Jungkook straightened in his seat and, too shocked about the sudden assumption, forgot to deny it.

“You both know,” Jimin turned back to Taehyung, “you talked about it, and agreed on not telling me?”

Ah. Shit. That was not the road to an understanding Jimin. “It’s not like that –”

But Jimin didn’t listen as another thought struck him. “Wait a second.” He chuckled in disbelief. “I’m the only one who doesn’t know, right? I’m the only one in this whole group who doesn’t know this stupid secret.”

“That's not –” But Taehyung drifted off as he made a mental tally. Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and now Jungkook – that just left Seokjin and Jimin, didn’t it?

“Is it about me?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Jimin.”

“Then why am I the only one who doesn’t know?” Jimin asked, eyes darting between the two of them, looking thoroughly confused – and hurt. “Did I do something wrong? Why did he tell everyone but me?”

“Jin-hyung doesn’t know either.” Jungkook spoke up hesitantly.

“He didn’t tell anyone,” Taehyung sighed. “Yoongi knew from the beginning, and Hob-ie-hyung, too. Jungkook found out by accident –”

“Oh, so I’m punished for not snooping around –”

“Hey!”

“- and I made Yoongi tell me –”

“How on earth did you make Yoongi – wait, when we talked about the shooting schedule you knew – at the river? – It’s been over a week?! You’ve known this whole time, and you didn’t think of telling me?”

Taehyung stopped at Jimin’s increasingly heated outburst. He was not going to talk if Jimin was not going to listen anyway.

But Jimin stepped closer, his finger pressing at Taehyung's chest. “I fought with him, while you were sick, you didn’t think I might’ve wanted to know – especially if you forgave him for that –”

Screw ‘not talking’. “I couldn’t tell you, because I was sick, remember?!”

“Guys, calm down –”

“And before?! And after?! You’ve made up with him already and you’re still not telling me, after everyone knows – what am I? Chopped liver of the group?!”

“I told you, it’s not about you, stop acting like the victim here – Jin-hyung doesn’t know either –”

Jimin barked a sarcastic laugh. “Amazing, I’m not the only idiot –” It dropped as fast as it came. “There’s no way Jin-hyung didn’t make one of them talk –” He interrupted himself again, expression shutting off, and Taehyung barely held back a groan. There we go. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He tried to step past Taehyung again, ignoring Jungkook’s hand on his shoulder.

Taehyung intercepted. “Jimin...”

“Let me out. I need to talk to him.” He tried to step aside.

Taehyung grabbed his arm. “You can’t ask Namjoon –”

“Guys –”

“You think you can tell me when I’m allowed to talk to Namjoon?” Jimin yanked his arm out of Taehyung’s hand.

Taehyung gave him a quick push away from the door. “Not if you’re –”

“Let me -”

“- going to act like -”

“Hyungs, stop it.”

“Taehyung, I swear to god -”

“- a drama queen for nothing -”

“I said, stop it!” They were torn apart as Jungkook shoved himself between them with brute force, furious expression wandering from one to another. “Are you both out of your minds?”

The world spun for a moment as Taehyung tried to find his balance, one hand on the wall, but the others just went on.

“Watch your tone, maknae!”

“Watch your age, hyung,” Jungkook bit back, hissing. “You’re acting like children, someone’s going to hear –”

Taehyung shut his eyes, trying to drown out the voices, to push away the dizzy spell before anyone caught on.

I knew this was coming. I knew, because it happened with Hob-ie-hyung, too, and it’s still going to be fine.

“Oh, I’m acting like a child? That’s rich, coming from you! You were let in on the big secret, and now you’re one of the cool kids or what? Namjoon’s my friend, too, you know, and if it’s big enough to change everyone’s minds, I have a right to know –”

He should’ve told Jimin the second he’d heard, he should’ve at least apologised for not telling him, he should’ve said something, just so he would stop worrying. Of course he was pissed now, being shut out after weeks of supporting Taehyung.

“He’s your friend, and he asked Taehyung-hyung to wait. That means we’ll wait, too -”

Jimin barked out a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me! This is not about Namjoon! He’s just scared -”

Taehyung almost flinched under the finger he knew was pointing at him without opening his eyes. The disadvantage of having a best friend like Jimin, doesn’t even let me lie to myself.

“- and you, don’t go all holy on me now, either, you almost kicked him out of his own home –”

Taehyung chuckled.

‘Everyone is fighting.’

‘I don’t even know if they hate each other or not.’

Now, even Jungkook was fighting.

What a punch. It just kept giving, didn’t?

“Taehyung-ie-hyung? Are you alright?”

Taehyung opened his eyes to a concerned Jungkook right in front of him, his hand already under his arm supportively.

Jimin was right behind him, his worry still disguised under the angry frown.

Taehyung shook off Jungkook’s hand harshly, stepping towards Jimin with a smile that felt bitter on his face. “Maybe he regrets it, have you thought of that? Maybe he thinks I deserved it.”

“He what?” Sudden fire erupted in Jimin’s eyes as he snapped to Jungkook. “Nothing excuses –”

Jungkook stepped back with raised hands, shaking his head quickly. “I didn’t –” He turned to Taehyung in panic. “I never – I told you, I don’t think like that –”

“Well, maybe I think so?” Taehyung hissed, the words pouring out without control. “Maybe I fucked up, and I deserved a couple mean words and a cold shoulder, maybe I fucked up more than I thought, and maybe I don’t want you to find out? Maybe I hate myself for it, and I don’t want you to hate me, too? You thought of that?”

Jimin stared at him with wide eyes, finally speechless.

Shit. He’d talked too much.

He hadn’t deserved it. Not like that. They all had said it, had apologised, Yoongi and Hoseok and – and Namjoon himself, too, he’d told him it wasn’t Taehyung’s fault, and Namjoon would tell him if it was. It was Namjoon’s job to tell him about the mistakes, they trusted him with their mistakes, and he knew that. And he’d said Taehyung didn’t deserve it. Other punishments maybe, but not to be treated like he didn’t matter anymore.

But that didn’t change the fact that he’d started everything. The apology, the fights amongst the members – it was all his fault.

“Hyung –”

“Shut up,” Taehyung interrupted Jungkook, not daring to look him in the eyes. Namjoon running from them for a whole week made so much more sense now. “I don’t want to hear anything.”

He saw Jungkook frown in the corner of his eyes, but his eyes were glued on Jimin. There was only one thing he could do. “It sucks for Namjoon, too. And he hasn’t had a choice in how anyone found out until now, and he said he’ll talk to everyone, so I’m not taking this from him. I told him to open up, but the rest is on him. Okay? I won’t tell you.”

“Okay,” Jimin whispered, calm and apologetic. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask again.”

Taehyung exhaled, forced his shoulders to relax. He tried to swallow, but his throat was filled with bricks, and it hurt –

Suddenly, his shoulders were squished by strong arms, pressing an involuntary ‘Umpf’ out of his chest. “Jungkook, let go –”

“Stop trying to tell me what to do,” Jungkook grumbled into his ear.

“I’m still your hyung,” Taehyung muttered back, fighting for his breath and composure alike, avoiding Jimin’s worried eyes behind Jungkook.

“Yes, you are,” Jungkook whispered. “You’re still Taehyung-ie-hyung. Our Kim Taehyung. And we’ll never hate you, no matter who knows what.”

Taehyung exhaled against Jungkook, his resolve shaking at the maknae’s words. “I don’t like keeping things from you.”

Jungkook squeezed his lungs out once again. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

Taehyung leaned against Jungkook’s embrace, let himself be carried just for a moment, before he shifted to find Jimin’s eyes in the back.

He hadn’t lied. Yes, part of him was grateful Jimin didn’t know yet, but he would have told him. He would have told him immediately, if only so he could start repairing what he’d damaged.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to put it into words. Jimin just shook his head, the fire gone without a trace. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have – I’ll find out once the time is right. Don’t worry about it.” He blinked away the hesitancy at once. “It doesn’t matter, though. You deserved an explanation, you deserved to not be kept in the dark. That’s not going to change.”

Taehyung swallowed, feeling Jungkook’s firm breath around him with the same certainty in Jimin’s eyes.

It wouldn’t stop him from feeling guilty... But still. He’d rather not be lonely on top of that. So, he forced a whisper between his lips. “Promise?”

Jimin’s eyes softened, and he scoffed amusedly.

Jungkook’s arms tightened again.

“Promise.”

Chapter Text

“But the manager had already talked to Jungdae’s team, had assumed blame on our behalf, or rather on Taehyung’s, before talking to us. Our chances to influence the narrative if word got out were slim to none after that. I’ve been thinking about it the whole time, but I still don’t see another way we could’ve gotten out of that without the apology. So, I offered to do it in Taehyung’s place. As the leader, as the representative of our group. And I did.”

Silence stretched over the coffee table as Namjoon paused. His eyes were locked on the stains from Jungkook’s drink that he hadn’t wiped since yesterday.

“I’m sorry I made that decision by myself. I don’t regret it, but if I had time, I wouldn’t have acted as our representative without talking to you guys. I knew it would cause problems with management, and I knew they wouldn’t let it go easily. And they didn’t. We had to shoot the music videos earlier, we had to work extra time, we had to do the mentoring thing. And they might bring it up in the future, too. It’s not too much of a deal anymore, they were only in charge of us because Sejin-hyung wasn’t available, but he’s back now and supportive as always. But like I said. It might come up. I’m sorry for dragging you into something you didn’t sign up for.”

Taehyung tried to swallow despite the lump in his throat. Half of him wanted to jump in, say it was his fault, wanted to apologise. The other half wanted to be anywhere but here, amidst his friends that could already be blaming him for all he knew.

He didn’t do either.

Namjoon had asked for his permission to finally tell the others, this morning. Running wasn’t an option anymore. Taehyung owed it to him to let him speak, to let him handle it. So, he didn’t raise his head from his seat across Namjoon, pinning his gaze on Namjoon’s lowered head, ignoring Hoseok next to their leader, and only registering the lack of reaction from the other three in his peripheral vision.

Jimin was the only other person in Taehyung’s perception. He’d appeared as soon as Namjoon had messaged the group, sitting down next to Taehyung like he’d smelled his anxiety from afar. Now, their arms were touching, and his leg nudged against Taehyung’s every now and then, though he’d stopped doing that once Namjoon had mentioned the price of the footage. Still, his presence grounded Taehyung in the moment, fighting against the cold surrounding them, a stark contrast to the heat in Taehyung’s cheeks. He’d been feeling fine that day, but the regret of what he’d caused would easily fool any thermometer that very second.

When Namjoon spoke again, his voice was smaller, like the first part was only a report their leader owed them, like the personal part was just starting. “I apologize for the long time it took me to tell you. You had a right to know immediately, and I was aware of that. And I apologize for my behaviour, too. None of you deserved my harsh words and the attitude. I should’ve pulled myself together, and not only told everyone about the situation itself but also how it was affecting me.” The words rang calm and clear, carrying the authority of a thoughtfully prepared speech. Obviously, and like all things Namjoon did whole-heartedly, it was exactly that: planned and elaborate. “We’ve been through a lot since this group was formed, and one of our most important principles was to avoid just that: lack of communication and prolonging the conflict unnecessarily. By going against that I broke your trust and hurt all of you in the process. I am sorry to have failed you as a leader, a member and a friend.”

“Don’t talk like that...” Jimin’s soft voice almost startled Taehyung, so close and real, despite the barely audible volume. There was an uncertain shake, and although it hurt Taehyung to hear it, it solved one of the knots in his chest. The first reaction was comfort for Namjoon, and he deserved it after suffering alone for so long.

But Namjoon frowned. “Don’t –” He broke off as he accidentally left his script but found back soon enough. “It’s the truth. The way I have handled this – I acted like a child, couldn’t admit my faults. I should’ve known better, should’ve at least told you that I was struggling –”

Jimin stood up, with calm and more palpable presence than usual, enough for Namjoon to look up at him. He approached Namjoon and Hoseok’s couch and made a shooing motion for Hoseok, who immediately scooted down the couch to make room.

“Jimin, don’t-” Namjoon tried again, but Jimin was already squeezing himself between them. “Jimin-ah?”

Jimin threw his arms around Namjoon as soon as he could, and pulled him closer.

Namjoon didn’t accommodate, and it turned into an awkward side-hug that pulled Namjoon’s shoulder into Jimin’s chest. “Jimin, are you even listening –”

But Jimin didn’t care. “You can’t make me care about any of that while you look lonely like this.” And he pulled him in again, starting a quick string of reassuring whispers, the unabashed ones that showed more than they hid, that soothed aches that weren’t for anyone else to touch. Namjoon’s shoulders relaxed into Jimin’s arms slowly, leaning into Jimin just a couple seconds later.

Taehyung had forgotten, how Namjoon smiled at Jimin, sometimes, how he only ever invited Jimin on his solo adventures. He wondered how much Namjoon had missed Jimin, in the past weeks. If he’d been the one he’d missed most.

The others watched in silence until Jimin trailed off. Hoseok’s gaze was dutifully trained on the floor, Yoongi’s lingered on the pair with a rarely observable gentleness and relief.

Seokjin sat stiffly on the floor next to the maknae on Taehyung’s left, a grim expression staring at the same stain on the coffee table in front of him since Namjoon had started talking. He wouldn’t react like Jimin, but thankfully he didn’t interfere just yet.

Jungkook, on the other hand, either really didn’t want to share his hyungs even with the other members, or he just felt as sorry as he looked, because it was his impatience that broke the silence soon enough. “Joon-ie-hyung,” he started softly, giving Namjoon a second to face him. “You don’t have to apologize for your decision. We trust you with that stuff. If you say it was the best for us, for Taehyung-ie-hyung, then that’s the way it is. We’re a group, right? You did it to protect Taehyung, and I want to protect him, too. Always. I wish I could have helped you. Instead, I acted like a brat, I was rude… I’m sorry.”

Namjoon shook his head as he straightened in Jimin’s comforting hold, returning to the conversation without pushing him away. “It's not your fault, Jungkook. You were right to be angry. I didn't tell anyone I was having a hard time, and I should have. What happened doesn't excuse how I behaved. I deserved everything you said.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to Taehyung with a flash of guilt before returning to Namjoon. “I still wouldn’t have said it, though. Not like that.”

Taehyung managed a tiny nod and maybe a smile, unsure if Jungkook saw it. All of them would have acted differently if they had known.

“Why did you do it?” The question was sudden, cutting through the condoling atmosphere, calm and collected enough to bare exactly how much Seokjin was holding back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t share Jungkook’s blind trust. Why did you do it?”

Jungkook turned to him with apprehensive eyes, once again flickering to Taehyung and back. It only increased the cold nerves spreading in Taehyung, the ones that had become familiar in a very unwelcome way.

Jimin released the hug as he frowned up at Seokjin, leaving one arm around Namjoon’s shoulders. A grounding gesture offering support, one that Namjoon deserved…

But for a second, Taehyung missed his warmth next to him.

Namjoon looked up, now, straight at Seokjin. “Like I said, it would have seriously damaged Taehyung’s image, maybe to the point of no recovery, if that video had found a way to the public -”

“Why didn’t you let Taehyung apologize, like originally requested? Why did you do it?”

Taehyung tried not to let it hurt, the words that seemed so effortless on Seokjin’s lips like he was talking about the person responsible for groceries. That’s what I wanted, too, he thought instead, that’s what should’ve happened.

Namjoon’s eyes met Taehyung’s for a moment, before he started again. “It wasn’t fair to him. They weren’t listening, not admitting their fault, they wouldn’t have given him a choice, and he would have been forced to do it for us, for BTS. I wanted to spare him that.” His voice was growing, his back getting straight.

Seokjin scoffed, cold and cruel. “What did you spare him, exactly, Namjoon? Did you listen to him? Give him a chance? Last I’ve checked, this kid had the worst two weeks of his life.” His mask of calm was crumbling with each word into anger and frustration.

Taehyung blinked. Somehow he had become the centre of the conversation, the victim, and he didn’t like the angry tone, the words of Seokjin attacking Namjoon like that, and even worse than that, he didn’t like the guilty look on Namjoon’s face. “Hyung, it’s my fault -”

“Stay out of this, Taehyung.”

Taehyung reeled at the uncharacteristic snap in Seokjin’s voice.

“Hyung, maybe you should...” Hoseok intervened next, but Seokjin glared at him for just a second.

“Shut up, I’m talking to Namjoon. He’s been running from this conversation for weeks, the least he could do is to answer my question.”

But Namjoon was just looking down, his hair falling just enough to hide his eyes.

Hoseok turned to Yoongi for support, and making Yoongi’s guards rise as he steeled himself to intervene, like he had intervened many times in the last weeks, but Seokjin cut in again.

“No. Yoongi can't save you now. Isn't it enough that he's run after you for two weeks?”

Someone whispered in an appeasing tone, but the words went over Taehyung as Jungkook caught his attention again. He was kneading on his thumb like he only did when the anxiety was too high to handle, shrinking in himself with every harsh word, eyes darting back and forth timidly between their hyungs.

“- sorry, but that’s not enough. It doesn’t erase what he’s put every single one in this room through, and for what? His injured pride? Because he couldn’t stand behind his own actions? Because he couldn’t ask for help? He couldn’t ask us, for help?”

Taehyung opened his mouth again, because it was wrong, the level of anger was undeserved, it didn’t belong here –

“He told you to stay out of it, Taehyung.” Yoongi’s voice was firm, despite the low volume. He stared at Taehyung, his eyes an unusual mixture of emotions warning him to stand down.

“How can you tell me to stay out of it? I’m right in the middle -”

“Not everything’s about you.”

Blood rush into his cheeks as he straightened. “That’s not what – I started it. I caused all of this, it’s my fault, and -”

“It’s not!” Seokjin took back with a volume no one else would have dared. “It’s not your fault that Namjoon hit a self-sacrificial streak, that he suddenly isolated himself like a hermit crab, that he forgot the one thing we all learnt countless times, his own rules – We could’ve blamed you for the management and working bullshit, but that wasn’t an option because no one’s bothered to tell us about what the hell has been going on, so we didn’t get to be angry about that! But Kim Taehyung wants to be yelled at? I’m sure I can find something – ah, wait, what about the whole. past. week?”

Taehyung shrank back under the sudden fury directed at him, Yoongi’s defeated sigh fading into the background.

“All of last week is at least half on you. How many times did I tell you to eat your meals? Before you got sick?”

Taehyung swallowed again, not only because he had no way of knowing just how many times Seokjin had asked and ordered and bugged him, but also because he couldn’t keep up with the unexpected turns this scolding was taking. His eyes found Jimin’s on instinct, now selfish enough to wish his best friend was still sitting next to Taehyung instead of Namjoon. “I don’t know?”

Seokjin didn’t seem to expect a different answer as he continued with the same venom in his voice. “How many times did I tell you to go sleep, to take care of yourself, to make sure you get the rest you need?”

“A lot?” He looked over to Yoongi despite himself, who was gazing into his lap tiredly.

“And what happened when you didn’t listen?”

Taehyung shrugged helplessly. But the furious expression on his eldest hyung indicated that he was focussing on the wrong part. What the hell was he being scolded about? “I don’t know, I got sick?”

“Yeah, you almost died!”

Taehyung winced. An icy breeze spread in the room, around each person, turning everything into stone.

Taehyung had known it was serious, he’d felt it while he was sick once he could wrap his mind around the situation again, but hearing the word thrown at him as something he’d barely slipped away from… It sent chills down his spine.

“You almost died, that’s what happened! You got seizures from a simple virus, because you starved and tired out your own fucking body! Who knows how bad you’ve gotta be to get a seizure as an adult man –”

“He didn’t ask to get sick, hyung,” Jimin snuck in, too quickly to be interrupted.

Seokjin whipped his head around to Jimin. “Could have fooled me! Do you know who didn’t ask for getting sick? You didn’t. Yoongi didn’t. I didn’t.”

Taehyung looked around at the named members. He hadn’t known that – had he made them sick? How had he missed that?

Seokjin turned back to Taehyung. “Do you know how I know that? Because Jimin actually went early to bed with some fever medicine and was fine after that. Yoongi stayed home once, and his headache didn’t even stop him from working from home. I didn’t feel anything but a small fever. Because this wasn’t some dangerous virus that we had to fight off on our death bed. It was just a tiny little bug, and we stepped on it and killed it just fine. You were too weak to do that, because you kept sabotaging your own body for – yeah, why? Care to share with the class? Because now that we know that Namjoon was just dealing with his own petty issues, it seems pointless.”

“Hyung.” Yoongi said, with a warning in his voice.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like?” Seokjin went on, ignoring Yoongi. “Watching you spew nonsense because of nightmares, hearing you cry in your sleep because you were in pain the whole time? You don’t even remember half of that!”

Taehyung shrunk back further against the couch. Seokjin was right, he didn’t remember. And honestly, he didn’t want to imagine helplessly watching any of the others sick like that. For days. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out, not knowing if it was loud enough for anyone to hear.

“But what am I doing?” Seokjin continued, moving his hands irately. “How can I expect our second youngest to grow up and deal with stress in a mature way if our leader is exactly the same?”

Namjoon, to his credit, seemed to be expecting the ball thrown back at him, continuing to listen to their eldest with a guiltily lowered head.

“Years of talking about self-love, about boundaries, about stopping self-sacrificial-leader-complex, we’re back to square one. You tell me, Namjoon. How many times did I beg you to take care of yourself? How many times did I find you in the studios for the sole reason to ask you what the hell’s going on? To give you the chance to talk to me?

“I didn’t have a peaceful second for two weeks, watching two of my best friends run themselves into the ground – Do you have any idea what I went through that night? I had your blood on my fucking hands, Namjoon! I had your blood on my hands, that’s how I realised something was off! By sheer luck – I went out to look for you because Taehyung was talking in his sleep, and I found you covered in blood – I was scared out of my damn mind!”

Namjoon had already pulled back his injured hand to hide it, his expression not twitching in his lowered position, but Seokjin continued before anyone could focus on that.

“For what, Namjoon? A stupid question of pride? Did it really make you feel better to isolate yourself, to torture yourself? Did it hurt less knowing that your friends were worried about you on top of everything else?”

Silence.

Taehyung didn’t dare to breathe. He could see in the corner of his eyes that Namjoon was similar, like a statue of a cowering child, despite Jimin’s hand on his back. He couldn’t feel it, but Taehyung knew exactly how firm the hand was pressing against Namjoon’s back. And although no one said anything, Jimin’s glare finally reached their eldest member.

Seokjin exhaled, and slowly rose from his position. “I don’t have to lecture you about violence, Taehyung. And I couldn’t care less about the apology, to be honest. My name, your name, our group’s name, it’s all the same to me. I don’t give a shit if some idiot thinks he’s better than me or anyone else because he’s blackmailing my group leader into something.” He was frowning at the coffee table again.

“And I will always, always be there for you. For all of you. I will do whatever I can to keep you guys healthy and happy. Even when you’re not doing it yourself.”

He sighed. “It’s one thing with Taehyung, because we were all at the end of our wits with you, Namjoon, and he was only hurting himself. But you should have either made sure to actually take the help that was being offered or stayed out of the bullshit you rode yourself into in some martyr fashion, instead of acting like an asshole for nothing.”

“Hyung.”

Seokjin looked at Yoongi with raised brows. Because only Yoongi would dare to speak like that to Seokjin, firm and absolute, although his tone was even. And Namjoon, a couple rare times, though Taehyung didn’t remember the last time that happened.

“Are you still scolding, or is this some kind of revenge?”

“Revenge?” A betrayed look. “You think I’m wrong? I’m just making sure that my best friends don’t turn all our lives into hell because of things that are pretty much preventable!”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong to be angry.” Yoongi was still calm, only looking at Seokjin. “But everyone in this room has said something they’ve regretted in the last weeks. Do you really want to join the club?”

“I’m not the one getting worked up over nothing –”

“Hyung,” Yoongi gritted out between his teeth, managing to sound respectful while still frowning defensively. “You might think differently about it, but it’s not ‘nothing’. You don’t get to say that just because you don’t care about the apology. It doesn’t mean that Namjoon can’t be bothered with what happened. And maybe Taehyung just had bad luck? Maybe he would have been just as sick on a normal day? Then you’d be the one making a fuss over something that’s no one’s fault.”

Seokjin opened his mouth to retort, but Namjoon was faster.

“I’m sorry, hyung.” He said softly, his voice strong with the gravity he could draw out of nothing. “I knew better than to act like that. And I didn’t – it wasn’t to sacrifice myself or anything like that. I knew the manager wouldn’t leave it at that, and I thought it would be easier to carry the repercussions as a group. I swear I was explicitly thinking of what you just said, when I went in there.”

Seokjin glared at Namjoon again, but there was a desperate tone in his voice. “Then why didn’t we carry it as a group? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Namjoon looked up, his eyes firm as he tried to make himself heard, maybe for the first time that evening. “It’s my job to stand up for you guys, right? When it counts?” He was kneading on his hand again, and Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the difference to when he’d first started talking. He was just Namjoon now, not their leader accounting for a misstep. Just a scared Namjoon trying to apologize. “I felt like I failed. It wasn’t pride – I was scared I had disappointed you, hyung.”

There was a waver in his voice, one that ringed an alarm in all of them. Taehyung could see the moment it caught Seokjin, trapped in Namjoon’s wide eyes looking up at him, and anger melted off their eldest like butter in a hot pan.

Namjoon continued with a small helpless shrug. “And it got worse, because I knew I was being unfair. I was digging myself deeper every day, disappointing you more. And I did want to stop. I really did. I’m sorry that I couldn’t.” He turned back to the group. “I’m really sorry, everyone.” First Jimin and Hoseok, both with comforting expressions on their face, then Yoongi, who gave him a flat look only. His gaze lingered on Taehyung just for a second, before moving on to Jungkook on the other side of the table, then back up to Seokjin, who was still standing.

Seokjin huffed a breath, anger still on his face, like the last intimidating shadows of an extinguished fire. That was Seokjin, his anger as quick to go as to come, but stubborn enough to keep the see-through shell in place. “Whatever. I said my piece, I’m done here.”

He turned away, left the room, with Namjoon’s eyes trailing after him, but they didn’t call him back.

“I give him 20 minutes, tops,” Yoongi said into the heavy silence as a door fell into place.

Namjoon shrugged defeatedly, even as Jimin nudged him with an encouraging smile.

“He’s right, though,” Yoongi breathed with a heavy sigh. “Both of you should be smart enough to know that self-destruction isn’t the solution. We’ve all been there. It starts with hurting yourself by not eating or whatever, by letting yourself suffer in any way. And it ends where you can’t stop. It’s not healthy. We’ve talked about it.” He let out another long breath before shrugging with nonchalance. “That being said, the whole thing got a little more dramatic with Taehyung’s fever. We’re fine. We’ll always be. As long we work out all our stuff. And you guys worked it out, right?” Receiving a nod from both Namjoon and Taehyung, he continued. “Then we’ll be fine. Bulletproof and what not.”

Jimin giggled. “Look at Yoongi-hyung, being all inspiring and stuff,” he whispered loudly to Namjoon, drawing a suppressed chuckle and a jab with an elbow.

“Yaah.” Yoongi squinted at him with a feigned annoyance that couldn’t hide his finally relaxed shoulders.

“Yeah, he really worked hard to keep the peace this time.” Hoseok mused, his tone waving even more of the remaining tension away. “You were impressive, hyung. Just like Namjoon, when he gets all leader-y, but without the philosophy talk.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m never defending Namjoon again.” Yoongi slouched into his armchair, like he was preparing to fall asleep, not bothered as Namjoon’s smile faded and he looked at him with a hint of hurt in his eyes. Instead, he pointed at him approvingly. “That’s what I’m talking about, Namjoon-ah. Just take out your puppy eyes earlier next time, please. Not after three weeks of hiding it.”

Namjoon straightened indignantly. “I don’t have puppy eyes!”

Jungkook laughed. “You definitely do, hyung. Didn’t you see how Seokjin-hyung gave up immediately when you looked at him?”

“I don’t -” Namjoon turned to him. “Yah, you have no right to talk, no one can ever be angry at you because you look like a literal child.”

Jungkook shrugged. “It’s not my fault you guys can’t acknowledge that I am not thirteen anymore. Doesn’t mean you don’t have puppy eyes. Hyung.” He added with deliberate wide eyes.

Namjoon looked around again. Hoseok nodded apologetically, showing exactly how much he regretted to admit that Namjoon did have puppy eyes, and Jimin patted his back with a patronizing smile. “Don’t worry, hyung, I don’t think you’re a puppy, you’re a big strong wolf.”

Namjoon finally looked at Taehyung, as if to ask for help, and Taehyung was proud as he managed to keep his face straight. “I’m sure it was because of your honest apology, hyung-ie, nothing to do with the eyes.”

Yoongi snorted before Namjoon could put words behind his flat stare. “Yeah, sure, take the king of puppy eyes’ words for it.”

“Hey! I don’t have puppy eyes!” Taehyung blurted out before he could stop himself, genuinely offended, although he knew he did get away with a lot. He’d always thought it was his smile.

Yoongi blinked at him.

Hoseok and Jimin burst out in laughter.

“I don’t!” Taehyung turned back to Yoongi.

Yoongi was still blinking at him, and there was utter disbelief in his eyes. “Taehyung-ah, you’ve been, like, running around with puppy eyes for over two whole weeks.”

“No, I haven’t –”

“You kinda have, hyung,” Jungkook added, completely unnecessarily.

“You totally have!” Yoongi said, inexplicably offended. “First you were a kicked puppy, then a sick puppy, then a skinny overenergized weak puppy - Why do you think I haven’t scolded you once all this time? Because it wasn’t stupid to punch someone in front of a security camera?”

Jimin nodded regretfully before Taehyung had time to deflate. “Yeah, you’re, like, Yoongi-hyung’s only weakness.”

Okay, Yoongi might have been going easy on him, but he was definitely not worse than the others. “Jungkook has puppy eyes –”

“Hyung’s immune to that.”

“We’ve just established that Namjoon has them, too.”

“Nah, Namjoon lowers his head solemnly when they come up,” Hoseok pointed out. “It doesn’t count if he doesn’t profit from them.”

“With great power comes great responsibility, Kim Taehyung.” Namjoon nodded along affirmingly, like he hadn’t given up his own argument just to drag Taehyung with him. Same boat indeed.

Jungkook laughed next to him, and Taehyung bristled at Jimin’s smug grin with the unfairness of it all. “I’m not his only weakness! He never can say no to you either.”

“Loving me is his strength, you idiot.” Jimin bit back with vigour, not cracking up in the slightest. “I could never be his weakness.”

Namjoon’s giggles joined Hoseok’s, drowned out by the cackling maknae at their feet, but Taehyung could only shake his head as Yoongi shrugged helplessly.

Jimin blew him a kiss with a wink.

Yoongi turned away with an insurpressable smile, then threw his head back as another wave of laughter welled up through the room. “I’m in hell.”

“Okay, now that we’ve established that Yoongi-hyung isn’t angry at Taehyung-ie-hyung, maybe I should give my take to it, too. Because you asked me, right?”

Before Taehyung could choke out an answer at the sudden change of topics, Namjoon interjected softly, with a careful look at him. “If he asked you in private, you shouldn’t bring it up here, Jungkook-ah.”

Taehyung’s mouth had dried out, but he forced himself to speak. No running anymore. “No, I - actually, I wanted to talk about it, because all of this is my fault. I’m really sorry, everyone -”

“Actually, I wanted to say that I’m not. Angry, I mean,” Jungkook said quickly, eyes wide as ever, a tiny purse of his lips.

“You’re not?”

Jungkook shook his head.

Taehyung saw Namjoon’s let out a small breath, but it was nothing compared to the weight vanishing off Taehyung’s shoulders. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Why not?”

Jungkook frowned at him, like the answer should be obvious. “Because you almost died.”

The temperature dropped again, making Taehyung sigh. “Guys, I’m not saying it’s not a big deal, but we can’t just forget everything else because I got sick. It doesn’t make sense to forgive me for having a fever -”

“It’s not because I forgot, hyung,” Jungkook started again, frown deepening. “Even if I was angry, and even if we ignore the first week that was already bad enough for you, those nightmares alone were a thousand times worse than what you might have deserved.”

Taehyung didn’t avert his gaze, and there was no hint of exaggeration or lie in Jungkook’s eyes. Just mentioning the dreams had disturbed his friend again, and Taehyung might not remember most of them, but Jungkook’s desperate efforts to calm him down were engraved in his mind.

“And how we behaved in the first week was already bad enough in itself, too.” Hoseok shrugged helplessly as Taehyung looked at him, regret in his eyes once again. “I wish I could take it back, Taehyung-ie.”

Namjoon nodded once, meeting Taehyung’s eyes.

Taehyung’s eyes slid over to Yoongi after that, who only raised his head slightly as he felt Taehyung’s eyes on him. “Like I said, you looked too much like a puppy to be angry at you without feeling like a Disney villain.”

Taehyung breathed out, turning to the last one of his brothers.

Jimin looked up in surprise at first, then gave him a glare. “What are you looking at me for? I couldn’t stay angry at you when you punched me, you idiot. What do I care about some random dude’s nose?”

Taehyung let out a laugh against his will, even as his hyungs snapped to attention. Leave it to Jimin to still be salty about that.

“What? When did that happen?”

“I didn’t punch him, he ran into my fist.”

“Are you even hearing how stupid that sounds?”           

“No, hyung, I swear, Jungkook shoved him from behind –”

“I would have felt it –”

“I would never shove Jimin-hyung.” The utter offense in Jungkook’s voice was enough to make the others laugh, too.

“See? He’s lying, he shoved Jimin because he thought he’d taken his favourite socks.”

“Why would I take –”

“They were in his bag, what was I supposed to think?!”

“Wait, did you shove me?”

“I think that’s enough reminiscing for the day,” Jungkook declared quickly, earning a couple more laughs. “Now that we’ve established that no one is angry at Kim Taehyung, it’s over, right? We’re good?”

Jimin shrugged slowly. “Anyone got anything left to say?”

Hoseok straightened in his seat. “I’m sorry, too. I mean – I should probably have said it when hyung was still here, but…”

Yoongi waved it off in a dismissive motion. “His fault for leaving.”

“... I’ll talk to him later.” Hoseok said without acknowledging Yoongi’s words. “But I’m sorry, guys. I shouldn’t have – I made everything worse, though it’s my job to keep a clear head in these situations.”

“It’s okay, Hob-ie-hyung. We know that your weakness is Namjoon-hyung. You got overprotective, like me and Jimin did a little with Taehyung.”

Namjoon’s mouth twitched at Jungkook’s words, but it was true. Hoseok’s protectiveness was particularly strong when the members were testing the limits, probably because he already shared the burden with their leader. He understood him best.

It was almost… predictable. In hindsight. Taehyung tilted his head.

Jimin and Jungkook, supporting Taehyung.

Hoseok and Yoongi, not leaving Namjoon’s side.

Seokjin, taking care of both of them.

Huh. Predictable.

Yoongi had been the one to call Hoseok, right?

‘If this was a movie, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the plot twist main agent or something.’

Taehyung smiled. “Guys. Chess match. Yoongi-hyung and Namjoon-hyung. Who would win?”

They blinked at him.

Somehow, Jungkook conjured a travel-size chess board with all the white pawns missing, and even more miraculously, Taehyung convinced (bribed) Yoongi to play the game. Chaos found its way back into their living room once the maknae line started giving exaggerated commentary like a sports game and too enthusiastic advice after taking bets, and Hoseok began changing the rules, even more so as they simultaneously returned to a discussion of who had a soft spot for whom (with fresh evidence, as Namjoon had just convinced Yoongi to allow the resurrection of figures if he got them in a certain constellation, prolonging the game into eternity).

But no matter how ferociously Hoseok claimed to be the only one Seokjin couldn’t say ‘no’ to, how Yoongi insisted he liked Jungkook least out of the maknaes because he couldn’t keep a secret, how Jimin threw in that no one ever scolded him as much as Taehyung for the same pranks, it was all words.

It was all empty words, because no one mentioned how Yoongi had cut from his own meals to buy Hotteoks when Jungkook had mentioned eating them on his birthday, back before debut, and no one pointed out that Namjoon hadn’t hesitated to take the fall for and with each of them countless times, and everyone knew Hoseok’s laughs were the loudest when Jimin was in the vicinity (and Jimin’s jokes were the funniest when Hoseok was in his line of sight).

They didn’t talk about how Namjoon’s shoulders only relaxed once Seokjin-hyung returned with a store brought brownie cake, and Taehyung didn’t care that he was still grumbling angrily when Taehyung smiled up at him, because Seokjin’s ears were glowing red. Even as he announced that Taehyung and Namjoon wouldn’t get any and Jungkook clapped because that meant more for him, no one took it seriously, because Taehyung ate more than anyone else in the end. Maybe a little less than Namjoon, he wasn’t sure.

To put it like Jimin, they were all each other’s strength.

And if Jimin didn't look at Taehyung as long as he usually would, joked a little less, laughed a little smaller (except for Namjoon), that was okay. It was okay, because he'd said he wasn't angry, and that might not have been the complete truth, it was enough of it for the moment. It was enough to show that they would be okay, no matter what, because he made sure to find his seat next to Taehyung again, somehow.

Chapter Text

Finding Namjoon asleep on the couch wasn’t unusual in itself. But a strange sense of melancholy in the lights of the muted TV dancing in the room drew Taehyung in, a peaceful expression that returned after weeks to Namjoon’s face only disturbed endearingly by irregular, exhausted snores.

Taehyung had only wanted to grab a drink.

As he stepped closer, he spotted a second figure sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, elbow touching Namjoon’s knee. Maybe Seokjin was radiating that melancholy, lost in thoughts as he rarely was while gazing at Namjoon’s hand and the almost healed scrapes.

“Hyung?” Taehyung whispered. He wasn’t worried about Namjoon waking up, not with those snores, but the room demanded a respect he didn’t want to deny with an infringing tone.

A second passed before Seokjin leaned back enough to give Taehyung a tired, lopsided smile.

Taehyung smiled back, unsure, until Namjoon’s snore hitched, and both of them held their breaths. Namjoon started another loud snuffle, making Taehyung chuckle as he approached.

Seokjin’s eyes were back on Namjoon, a familiar disapproval about sleeping in the living room on his face. “How anyone can sleep like this is beyond me.”

The same thought had haunted Taehyung, too, countless times. Then he’d ended up sharing a room with Namjoon even after they had moved out of their one-bedroom apartment, and Jimin had laughed at him, because of the snoring and because ‘now Namjoon will force you to watch videos of other artists all the time, and you can’t escape’, and Namjoon had rubbed his neck sheepishly, and Taehyung had grabbed his arm and pulled him into their new room, because ‘I get to share with the best leader in the world, I’m going to be so cool when I leave this room’. Namjoon had laughed, Jungkook had actually looked envious for a minute, and Jimin had stuck out his tongue.

Namjoon, of course, was anything but cool, and they had already known each other well enough at that point. Well, not ‘anything but’. Namjoon was plenty cool, always had been. But he was clumsy, awkward despite his moments of eloquence, more disciplined than any teenager had a right to be, and just didn’t carry the cold aura RapMon liked to wear in public.

But Taehyung had felt pretty cool during the times of their shared room. Seven had been down to two, and ‘bedroom’ had stopped representing a delicate balance that grated on them, because it wasn’t the least private place they had anymore. It had been their room, Namjoon and Taehyung, and Taehyung had loved it.

He’d loved being the only one to get to see this side of Namjoon, when he distractedly talked to himself, or filled his sacred notebook with the excitement of a toddler with crayons despite his big frame, or waited impatiently for his mother to pick up his call. He’d be the one to see the good news shine a smile on Namjoon’s tired face as he first heard them, the raw, unrefined, even selfish ones, before their leader started calculations and plans and thoughts about how happy the others were going to be.

Namjoon had been so young, back then.

Taehyung hadn’t cared about the snoring at all.

Seokjin’s voice pulled him away from the memories Taehyung had lost himself in at the sight of his friend’s sleeping face, back to the present where he was draped over the back of their couch. “He loves you, too. A lot. You know that, right?” His eyes were sharp like arrows, despite the late hour.

Taehyung thought about it. Let his mind conjure the answers to that question – Namjoon appeared, with a smile, ducking in front of the couch and hiding from stray projectiles. He nodded.

Seokjin drew a smile, but when he returned to Namjoon’s face, to Namjoon’s hand, it didn’t last.

Taehyung waited, watching the shadows on their faces from the still running TV.

A dark cloud was fogging Seokjin’s eyes, surrounding their carefree hyung. A thought that was only pulled to the surface because of the late night and the time Seokjin had spent pondering alone.

It was wonderous terrain, these late-night conversations until first rays of sunshine. When the thick fabric of the dark covered the world like a blanket, provided a secret fort for the vulnerable, when honest corners of the heart thumped loud enough to break through closed windows, and words turned into simple currency.

But it was a lonely place to be, without a companion. And Seokjin looked like he’d been wandering around, lost in someone else’s maze.

Taehyung hated it. “Hyung?”

Seokjin spoke at the same time. “Did it hurt?”

Taehyung instinctively looked at Namjoon, then back. “What?”

“When you punched him,” Seokjin whispered, and Taehyung heard the venom in his voice as he stared right through Namjoon’s features at an invisible enemy. “Do you think it hurt?”

Taehyung frowned. He hadn’t – he hadn’t thought about that moment much, trying to forget the surge of anger that had thrown his life out of balance in a blink. Remembering it now still filled him with unease. The fact that he, Kim Taehyung, had deliberately chosen violence. “It probably did. He was bleeding. He looked like it hurt.”

Seokjin nodded. “Good. I hope someone hurts him worse.”

A cold feeling crept on Taehyung as he straightened, from his head down to his back.

Seokjin – he wasn’t like this, usually. His bad side wasn’t easy to reach, the one that oozed with poison like that. Especially for someone without access to his feelings whatsoever. Because for someone to be hated, they had to matter. And Seokjin had never cared for strangers.

Taehyung looked back at Namjoon, who’d reached a rare quiet phase. But his peaceful radiance was disturbed by the tear tracks Taehyung hadn’t noticed on first glance.

“Why?” The question was stupid. They all knew that bastard had hurt their brother, had found words that had shaken him for weeks. But Seokjin deserved a chance to let out the poison, too.

“Because he hurt Namjoon when he thought he was invulnerable.”

Taehyung waited, not daring to ask for information he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have.

“He thinks he’s invulnerable, when he’s our leader. When he’s in front of Bangtan. So, that’s where he put himself when there was a threat. And he got hit. Turns out he’s not immune to everything after all.” Seokjin shook his head. “What a psychopath. Catching an opening like he’s been planning it for years.”

Taehyung frowned. Hoseok had said that Namjoon hadn’t talked about the details, but maybe… “Did he tell you? About what exactly happened?”

Seokjin huffed a small laugh. “Couldn’t finish the episode because of him.”

Taehyung didn’t respond to the joke, instead remembering Namjoon struggling for words when he as much as mentioned the apology – but he’d told Seokjin. He’d finally told someone, and told him everything.

‘My hyungs found me, too.’

It couldn’t have been pleasant for Seokjin, listening to Namjoon’s demons. But – “I’m glad you’re his hyung, Seokjin-hyung.”

Seokjin looked up.

“I’m glad he has a hyung like you.”

Seokjin snorted, still unnaturally serious. “I like being the oldest, but out of all of you, I’m most glad to be older than him.”

“Oh?” Taehyung smiled, propping himself up with his arms. Seokjin was easy to distribute and retract titles like that, and it fit, after the talks today.

“It’s special, when the person solving all the problems trusts you like that. Makes you feel extra capable.”

Yeah. Namjoon’s trust did that to a person. “I’m really glad he has you, hyung.”

Seokjin blinked, and when he looked back, his expression had finally softened. “And I’m glad we have you, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows with a smirk. “I make things easier, right?”

Seokjin laughed. “You?! Are you delusional, or what is this?”

Taehyung ducked his head to hide his suddenly flushing cheeks. “Namjoon-hyung said so.” ‘Namjoon said’ was usually a good defence, but he wasn’t so sure suddenly.

“Hah. Of course, he did. Because he likes to overcomplicate things, especially for himself. Anyone who’s straightforward like you makes it easier.” He sighed. “It’s never simple with him. Always a reason for what he does, always a list of arguments before his decisions, always a deeper meaning.” He shook his head. “‘I did it as our leader.’ Like in the end, it wasn’t the same person listening to the same bullshit.”

Namjoon twitched, a frown, a groan, before he turned slightly, pressing half of his face into the pillow. His snoring stopped, his breath still slow and calm.

“He should’ve let me do it.” Taehyung whispered, knowing Namjoon was sleeping lighter now. At Seokjin’s surprised face, he added, “Right?”

Seokjin raised his brows at him. “You think you would’ve handled it better than Namjoon?”

“It would’ve been the right thing.”

“Would it? It was a tactical decision, to make sure the managers and the company can’t single you out later. And they wouldn’t dare to punish whole of BTS without listening first. And it worked. If you hadn’t gotten sick, it would have been nothing more than an extra busy week before our break.”

When put like that, it did sound smart, but it still didn’t sit right.

“You’re saying you would prefer being kicked out? Or being chaperoned for the last of your career, or whatever those suits come up with?”

Taehyung frowned. He hadn’t thought of specific consequences much, but that sounded like it would suck. They had fought a lot for their contractual freedom, artistic or not. Still… “I thought that’s what you meant earlier. That he shouldn’t have sacrificed himself. And Yoongi-hyung said he tried to stop him, too.”

“No, I scolded him because he hurt you and himself like that. Because he made sure he was on his own, by not telling us. Not because of the apology thing. And Yoongi wouldn’t have let anyone do it, because it wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t have cared about the consequences. Which is the reason he isn’t the leader, by the way. He knows it, too. Or do you seriously think he wouldn’t have found a way to stop Namjoon?”

“But all of this wouldn’t have happened -”

“Yaah -” Seokjin interrupted himself and continued with a lowered voice. The embers of his leftover anger were sparking brightly in his eyes. “Are you stupid or am I bad at explaining myself?”

Taehyung shrank a little into the cushions he was leaning on, trying an apologetic smile.

“‘All of this’ is going to happen again and again, every time someone tries to carry the burden of this group on their own, because we can’t afford to shut everyone out while we depend on each other like this. If Namjoon had trusted us and himself enough, if he’d come to us, you would have gotten a scolding, and you’d be the one working most these weeks, and that would have been it. ‘All of this’ could have been avoided, as simply as that.”

“It’s not always that easy. He was doing his best.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes with a huff of laughter, shaking his head again.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me, why are you laughing?”

“You know, now I understand what Namjoon meant. You make his life easier.” Seokjin gave Taehyung’s frown a pointed look. “The guy’s sleeping, and you’re trying to make me forgive him. You’re doing his work for him.”

Taehyung straightened at the accusation. “He didn’t ask me to talk to you.”

Seokjin made a dismissive sound. “Calm down, angry boy. I’m not saying that. And yet, here you are. Isn’t he lucky?” He sighed. “And you did it before, too, didn’t you? Kept trying to keep the peace. Using the Taehyung-effect.”

Taehyung chuckled. “What’s the Taehyung-effect?" It sounded cool.

Seokjin shrugged. “You have a weird way of… I don’t know. Knowing things. Believing things hard enough to make them true. That’s why people listen to you when things are desperate.”

That didn’t sound right at all – “Like Namjoon-hyung?” That didn’t make any sense, why would anyone –

Seokjin barked a sudden laugh, then quickly glanced to their still sleeping leader. “Of course not. Namjoon actually knows what he’s talking about. You are a weirdo. That’s why they only listen to you when they’re desperate, it’s like hoping a dumb rock will save day or something.”

Well, that was insulting. “But…”

“Remember in the kitchen? When he talked to you like that? I was pissed, but you stopped me from fighting Namjoon. And you did something similar with Jimin, too, right? And it worked.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. It was his job to be the mysterious one. “Hyung, that doesn’t make any sense, I just -”

Seokjin scoffed, frustration sudden enough to see the act behind it. “Not you, too! It’s because it doesn’t make sense! And still, Jimin is shutting his mouth because ‘Taehyung said so’, Yoongi is abandoning common sense because ‘Taehyung looked at me like that’, Jungkook – don’t even get me started with that brat! You know what he said the other day? ‘Look at how Taehyung-ie-hyung’s fixing everything, now that he’s all better –’ and whatever –” He lowered his voice into a whisper-screech, “Like it’s a hero’s return to the battlefield!”

Taehyung barely managed to silence his laugh at Seokjin’s antics, but the thought of Jungkook’s wide eyes full of admiration back in the kitchen filled his chest with pride. Yes, he had done that.

Of course, Seokjin caught his smugness immediately, responding with a poisonous look. “Totally undeserved. And you know it. You use the Taehyung-effect like a stupid little wand sometimes.”

Maybe, maybe there was some truth to it. Because Taehyung did remember the confidence that had made him look straight at Namjoon, in Yoongi’s studio. He remembered giving a promise when they were at their worst, still knowing he could make Namjoon believe.

“Namjoon knows it, too,” Seokjin continued slowly, lost in thoughts. “That’s probably why he talked to you first, without any of us around.”

Taehyung raised his head again. He hadn’t thought about it, it had seemed like Namjoon’s way of dealing with problems. “What? Why?”

“Because he knew it would be easier to apologize to us after talking to you. The talk today only went this calmly because you had already forgiven him. That does have an effect.” He huffed a small laugh. “Just imagine having Jimin with you while Namjoon listed excuses for being a prick -”

“Don’t say it like that,” Taehyung protested, harsher than intended. “You’re making him sound like he tricked me or something. I don’t care if he made a plan to talk to me alone before anyone else, I forgave him because I wanted to. And I want you to forgive him, too.”

“Yaah. Don’t make me look like the bad guy.” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying he’s an evil mastermind. I’m just saying, you do have a weird effect on everyone around you, and he’s aware enough to include it in his strategies. We already know that he always has at least three reasons for his actions, and no one can know all of them.” Seokjin’s lively gestures were dramatic in the changing lights of the TV, but he finally settled on his soft expression from earlier with a sigh. “He wanted to make it up to us, and he had to start with you.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung amended with a slow nod, thinking back of Namjoon interrupting his own little meltdown in his room to make sure that Taehyung was okay, Yoongi’s words from the night at the river echoing in his head. Cute enough, stubborn enough, leader enough. Kind enough. Then he chuckled. “Yoongi-hyung was like a mastermind, too, wasn’t he? Trying to manage us like he does sometimes. He told Namjoon-hyung to leave me alone, but he told Jimin off for being too harsh to Joon-ie at the same time. Today, too, he kept trying to shush me so you wouldn’t yell at me.”

Seokjin laughed over another snore. “Yeah, that was interesting. He kept running around trying to keep it from getting worse… it was like watching Namjoon learn to handle us again, except Namjoon was way more careful about it. But it drained him, he’s already locking himself in his studio to recharge.” He chuckled again. “But the others were weird, too. Jungkook being rude on purpose was a sight. It had been going for days already, but even Namjoon was shocked. He straight up took his food, almost knocked Namjoon’s glass over and slammed the door behind him, just because Namjoon dared to enter the kitchen while he was waiting for you. Even Jimin took pity. But -”

Seokjin trailed off as Namjoon let out an indiscernible sound, rolling his shoulders, still half asleep. “Hyung?” came a weak murmur.

Whoopsie. Even Namjoon’s sleep wasn’t impenetrable, and he might have heard his name too often, too loudly.

“Joon-ah.”

Namjoon relaxed, smiling without opening his eyes. “I slept?”

Seokjin smiled back, put his hand on Namjoon’s arm on his side. “You did. Almost an hour.”

Namjoon snuggled into the cushion. “Finally.” He smiled again. “So good. You were right.”

Oh. Taehyung had already known that Namjoon wasn’t sleeping well, it had been written all over his face, and he’d watched him have a nightmare, but hearing him breathe with relief, still half asleep… it must have been bad.

Seokjin had to have the same thoughts behind his painful smile. “I’m glad.”

Namjoon frowned, squinting his eyes open. “Why did I wake up?”

Seokjin shrugged. “I don’t know. You were snoring loud enough that I almost didn’t hear Taehyung’s words over it.”

Namjoon blinked before following Seokjin’s gaze and turning to face Taehyung. Thankfully, he smiled. “What’s up?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Nothing. Sorry to wake you up. Didn’t mean to.”

“T’s okay.” Namjoon mumbled. “Gotta go to my room anyway. Got some papers to take care of before I forget –”

“Kim Namjoon, I will kill you.”

Namjoon’s lips morphed into a smirk as he crossed his arms and shifted in his place. “Just joking, hyung-ie.” He sighed. “Why am I so tired? Can’t even move.”

“Come on, get up. I’ll help you. You’ll hurt your neck here.” Seokjin started nudging Namjoon, pinching his side to force him awake.

Taehyung watched him, unwilling to help disturb Namjoon, as a memory echoed in his head.

‘I’m so fucking tired of everything, Taehyung.’

Who’d said that? Namjoon?

“Just ten more minutes. It’s quiet.”

Seokjin stilled. For whatever reason, Namjoon’s words had conjured his earlier, almost painful expression. “Birthday wishes again, Joon-ah?”

Namjoon’s brows twitched, though he didn’t open his eyes. “Wha’?”

Seokjin sighed as he gave up. “Never mind. Sleep as long as you want.”

Taehyung watched them for a couple more seconds, stayed quiet as Seokjin’s eyes lingered on the now hidden hand almost regretfully, like he’d forgotten about Taehyung. Not for long though. “Was Yoongi-hyung too late after all?”

Seokjin tilted his head, but didn’t look up. “Huh?”

“When he talked about saying things we regret, earlier. When he tried to stop you.”

Seokjin shook his head. “I don’t regret anything. But it sucked. Once in a blue moon he asked for something, and I couldn’t give it to him.”

“You gave him what he needed though. You found him.”

Seokjin looked up.

“You found him. That’s what he said. You’re amazing, you know. That’s why I’m glad we have you.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile. “I’m too wise for your cheap compliments, brat. Stop trying to soften me for your partner in crime.”

Taehyung made a big heart shape with his arms, a big performance smile on his face before letting himself fall on the other, smaller couch. “Love you, hyuuung.”

Seokjin’s face cringed in disgust. “Go to your bed.”

“Love youuu.”

“I’m not going to try and wake you. Or carry you.”

“Loooove youu.”

“Shut up.”

“I love my hyuuuung sooo much.”

“If he wakes up, I’ll -”

“I love you, too, hyung.”

“Aish, you brats. You get ten more minutes. If you don’t get up, I’ll leave you here, without blankets and with back pain in the morning.”

Chapter Text

“Jimin?”

Jimin turned his chair around to face Taehyung leaning against the door. The dancer had pulled up one leg on the chair in a lazy, impractical position, not occupied by anything obvious. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

Jimin shrugged, as close to a ‘no’ as he usually got.

Taehyung stepped in, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Jimin turned back to the desk as Taehyung stepped closer, not quite away, but not facing him either. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Stuff.”

Taehyung leaned against the wood of the desk, looking down at his feet. He’d been right. It wasn’t over yet, with Jimin, judging from the pensive expression on his face. From the bitter poison shimmering under the bored gaze, brooding and brewing. It didn’t have to be anger, though Taehyung would try to not hold Jimin to his promise if it was.

“Can you leave?”

Taehyung didn’t bother looking up. “Why?”

“You’re distracting me.”

Taehyung smirked at the carpet. “Because you’re thinking about me?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” Jimin answered dryly.

Taehyung chuckled. “Yours does, with you and me being the same person and all.” He barely remembered it, but they had told him about what he’d said that day. It was a fun way to get Jimin flustered.

Jimin sighed, giving up the thought of kicking Taehyung out.

“Why don’t you just say it, whatever you’re thinking about? Maybe we can work it out together.”

Jimin leaned his head against his leg as he let the chair rock to the sides in a slow rhythm. “Don’t think so. Not this time.”

Taehyung shrugged. “Worth a try, isn’t it?”

Jimin sighed again, heavily. Then asked, words pooling together into drops to only just find the strength to flow. “Do you think there was anything to be done about it? For us?”

Taehyung raised his gaze.

Jimin was staring at a fixed spot on his desk, his chair still rocking like a pendulum that couldn’t stop time, a complicated frown marring his face.

“Like what?”

Jimin shrugged, his eyes still lost in the distance. “Dunno. Something that could have stopped it from coming this far. Something that could have helped.”

Taehyung frowned.

This side of Jimin, once much more pronounced… it was always fun to remember the stupid kid, the one that would find ways to blame himself for every issue in his vicinity, every problem, even those that were too far for his reach. And the other idiot, of course, that had needed an embarrassingly long time (and a ton of pain on both sides) to understand just how deep that went.

But the kids had grown, and Jimin had seen, how much was necessary, how much was good, how much was healthy. How much of it was really helpful, for anyone. And he’d gotten better at letting go. At being fair to himself and others, in good and in bad.

Seeing him now, brooding over a chapter that should fade into the past now… It might be fun to remember with adoration and a fond smile, but Taehyung hadn’t missed it, watching him consider every option first, every possibility, every branch of the what-ifs, before clearing himself of guilt.

And although Taehyung would’ve loved to jump to the answer, if only to stop the squeeze in his own chest, he hummed. Thought about it. Because Jimin was being hard on himself, and he would file away any words of reassurance that didn’t hold him to the same standards.

The rocking motion of Jimin’s chair came to a slow halt.

Taehyung exhaled. “For me, from you… I don’t think so.” That was the only category Jimin would hear him in anyway. “You were there when I needed you. You told me not to take it too seriously, you gave me advice, you took care of me… I can’t think of anything else you could’ve done for me.”

“Was it impossible to convince you? Was there not a way to make you believe?”

Taehyung frowned. “Believe what?”

Jimin stared at him, squinting, watching every twitch in his face with an intensity that almost made him uncomfortable. “That everything wasn’t falling apart. That Namjoon didn’t hate you. That he is just as fallible as everyone else.”

Taehyung shifted his position, moved his hands. “I know that.”

“You forget when you’re scared, though,” Jimin said, without taking his eyes of him. “You forgot. When you convinced yourself that he can fix this, you forgot that he can make mistakes. And when he treated you like that, it was either because you deserved it, or because you didn’t know him the way you thought. Whatever we said, you didn’t believe that he could just be behaving like an asshole. Although you knew there was reason enough for him to make mistakes.”

Taehyung swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness in his throat. Something in him was refusing, trying to oppose, but… It was exactly what had happened, wasn’t it? 

Jimin spoke again. “Do you know how I know that? The day you found out what had happened, you weren’t scared anymore. Remember how you were suddenly talking to him, calming him, snapping at him, in Yoongi’s studio? I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept wondering, ‘What changed? Why is he so different now?’, until you told me the other day you found out by the river.” He smiled bitterly as he finally looked away. “You know what’s even worse?” He sighed. “You talked to Namjoon once, and there was already more of him than I had seen in weeks. Than anyone could make him show in weeks.” He shook his head, the bitterness still as much in his eyes as in his voice.

Taehyung wondered if anger would have been better. “Jimin…”

“How did you do it?” Jimin looked at him shortly. “What did you say?”

Where have you been? The same question that Taehyung had asked Hoseok and Namjoon, in his mind. Where have you been, when you were needed? “Jimin, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry –”

Jimin’s eyes sharpened as he straightened, and everything else was gone for a moment. “Don’t. Not for this. You were scared, Namjoon was being stupid. That doesn’t change. Everyone is responsible for their own actions. And Namjoon was a dickhead.”

But it wasn’t that simple. “Then why are you thinking about it?”

Jimin’s eyes softened as they returned to the desk. He shrugged. “I just want to know. If there was something I could have done, to make it better for either of you. Even if it’s not technically my responsibility, I wish I could’ve found it.”

Taehyung thought again, for Jimin’s sake. Maybe, if he could find something, Jimin could let it rest. But the more he tried to remember those days, the more he realised how right Jimin’s question was.

Where have you been?

Taehyung had drawn back, just like Namjoon. And everyone had reached out, but it had taken Namjoon’s worried voice to pull himself together. He had been deaf and blind for everything else, so he had no idea what Jimin could’ve done. “I might not be the right person to ask.”

Jimin exhaled, a weak smile appearing on his face. “That’s why I didn’t ask, you idiot. That’s why I told you to leave. See? There’s nothing for you to do here.”

Taehyung ignored it. “Are you going to ask Namjoon?” Namjoon would know, maybe. And if he did, he would tell.

Jimin sighed. “Not now. Maybe in a few days. A week. He’s still in his everything’s-my-fault-I-must-fix-it mode. He needs a break before he can talk objectively. He needs to believe me when I say I won’t overthink it, and he’s not there yet.”

Taehyung nodded, as he watched his friend do exactly that. Overthink it.

He had an idea. Or a thought. Not even that, really. It was an urge, or muse herself taking over his fingers. His eyes wandered on the desk until he found Jimin’s penholder and fished out a pencil. It was old, reduced in size a little, carrying traces of long nights and weary words. He bent forward, towards the small space between Jimin’s chair and where Taehyung leaned against the desk himself, and started drawing.

Jimin immediately reached for a paper and shoved it under the tip, but Taehyung just pulled it away, let it sail down on to the floor, and continued on the wood, ignoring Jimin’s groan.

A circle, about the size of his palm. A wave through it. Two circles. He filled one of them with the grey of the graphite, then let the same dark tone bleed into one half of the big circle.

“If that’s supposed to be Ying and Yang, you suck.”

“No,” Taehyung said as he continued on the dark half. “It’s us, this time. It’s BTS.” Jimin’s eyes darted up to him, but he ignored it.

“Black and white?”

“Balance.” Taehyung straightened a little, met Jimin’s eyes, and down again, pointing at the black half. “That’s me… And that’s Namjoon.”

“It still seems like opposites,” Jimin whispered uncomfortably.

Taehyung knew the reason. “It’s not. It’s just two forces, for now.” He swallowed as the thoughts grew into vague forms. As the picture appeared in his mind and on his tongue. “You’re here,” he pointed at the tail end of the white part.

“With Namjoon?”

“With Namjoon.”

“Yoongi-hyung’s here, with me.” He pointed at the black part.

“Jungkook’s brain is like black, and his heart is facing white, so that’s him.” The empty circle in black. “Jin-hyung’s the other way around. So that’s him.”

“And Hob-ie-hyung?”

“Here.” Taehyung pointed to the line between the halves. “He’s the border. It doesn’t really matter. But let’s say that’s what we are. What we were, this time.”

“Okay,” Jimin whispered, eyes fixed on the drawing on his desk like mesmerized.

“I pushed,” Taehyung whispered, too, because that was what had happened. A line from the black head to the white tail, damaging the picture. He hadn’t destroyed anything. But he had pushed. Another line appeared, “White flowed into black,” he dragged the pencil from where he’d put Yoongi earlier, “and black flowed into white.” Another scar to the picture.

“The line disappeared,” he crossed over the wavy line, “and the tail vanished, too. It went over to dark.” He drew a shade over the tail, enough to show black taking over in the increasingly disordered drawing.

“Black,” he pointed at the small circle, “was disturbed by the force,” and memories flashed, of Yoongi in the car, talking to Jimin and Jungkook… “and this black, too, it tried to be a border,” … of Hoseok apologising with torn eyes, his voice sped up, and the pencil left traces everywhere it went, “and white was trapped and couldn’t leave as it tried to help, and all of them pushed and flowed and twirled and bled,” he swept over the whole thing with quick, rough strokes, “until it looked like this.”

The lines were ugly on the sketch, not enough to hide it from sight, but ruining the calm of the symbol almost completely, like a rune that was stripped off its magic.

Their eyes lingered on it for seconds, before Jimin slowly raised his head to meet Taehyung’s, wide, with a hint of anticipation. Asking for the rest, hoping this wasn’t the end.

Taehyung smiled and returned to the picture. There was nothing to worry about, because the story continued. It hadn’t stopped there, and never would.

He started tracing over the outline again, then the wave through the middle, then the smaller circles, making sure to press hard enough to make them the most prominent lines. “But this is the natural state. And even if the parts push, or someone from the outside mixes them up, even if white covers the surface or black takes over – this, is the natural state. And if you leave them alone, this is the picture the pieces will end up in, no matter who is where. As long as they are all a part of it.”

Jimin frowned, and Taehyung knew why he was dissatisfied.

“Unfortunately, your desk only has two dimensions,” he said lightly. “These traces fade in the third dimension, and the balance becomes perfect again. Where’s your eraser?”

Jimin huffed, but his smile didn’t last. He ignored Taehyung’s question. “Is there no way to prevent it?

Fair. Understanding the picture had been Taehyung’s issue, not Jimin’s. “Isn’t it beautiful, though? Watching the parts assemble despite the forces, despite themselves?”

“But it hurt. The pieces got hurt. Is it worth the pain?”

Taehyung sighed. “Maybe it’s the best they can do. Re-assembling the pieces after the storm –”

“I don’t want to think like that. I hate to think that hurting each other is the only way to go. Isn’t that the worst, after doing everything together for years? That we have to end up in pain because of a disturbance like that?”

Only it wasn’t just a disturbance, was it? It was a disturbance brought by one of them. By Taehyung. If Namjoon had somehow ended up in the same position without it being Taehyung’s fault, nothing would’ve went down like it did.

‘I couldn’t count on you this time, because you caused it in the first place.’

‘You resurrected a monster I thought I had defeated, brought it back into my live, my room, my head…’

Taehyung sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“But that’s the disturbance. I started it -”

“If you’re going to track back to your stupid apology every time, just leave. I don’t want to hear it.”

This wasn’t good. Jimin not letting him talk, shutting him out, wasn’t good at all. Taehyung wouldn’t let it happen. “Jimin, come on…”

“Taehyung, I’m fine. Leave.”

“Don’t –”

“What do you want from me?!” There was venom in Jimin’s hiss, fury in his eyes. “Yes, you went and punched some idiot. Yes, you jeopardized everything we’ve worked for. Yes, you’re the reason Namjoon’s been suffering all this time, and the reason he did it alone – is that what you want to hear? Is that going to make you shut up, leave me alone?”

You promised, Taehyung didn’t say, although he came close. Instead, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat before he spoke. “If that’s what’s going to make you stop blaming yourself.” Still, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m not blaming myself, I’m blaming this stupid picture for being so weak and falling into chaos -”

Taehyung winced at the harsh words about what he considered one of the most precious things in his life, the echo of Namjoon’s pained voice admitting the same sentiment in his ear.

Jimin saw it immediately. “I didn’t – you know what I meant, Taehyung.”

Taehyung did, and still. No one should talk like that.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put it like that. But it sucks, to watch you guys in pain and not being able to do anything. If we can hurt each other, we should have ways to protect us, as well.”

“And if not, if this is all we’ve got, it’s not good enough?”

Jimin sighed. “It’s not that. I just… I would hope our best isn’t when we’re still hurting each other. That when one of us, or two, makes mistakes, the others would be enough to step in, to find a way to intercept -”

Well, that sounded stupid. “Intercept what? Me and Namjoon?”

“If that’s what it takes to protect you from each other –”

A quick breath escaped Taehyung’s throat, too similar to a laugh.

Jimin’s eyes sharpened again. “Is this funny to you?”

Taehyung blinked, trying to figure out if Jimin really wasn’t aware of how ridiculous he was being. “You really think you’d have a chance to get between – You think I would let you?”

Jimin frowned.

Taehyung snorted. Jimin. Big dummy, softie Jimin. “You really think I would let you – or anyone – get between me and Namjoon? After I knew that somehow he managed to save my life, and is pissed at me? You think I would just let you handle it?”

Jimin was still staring, although the concept shouldn’t be too alien to him. They had talked about it a million times. “Would you let anyone stand between the two of us? It doesn’t matter who or why, would you really allow anyone to come between us enough that I can’t reach you anymore?” Jungkook had tried, once upon a time, tried to keep a peace neither of them had cared about a lot, only to get caught in the crossfire. It had taken longer to get on speaking terms with the maknae then with each other. “You wouldn’t. Even when you know I’m out to hurt you. Because it’s me. It’s us.”

“That’s different…” Jimin started but trailed off soon enough.

Taehyung laughed at that. “Why? Because I don’t care as much about Joon-ie?”

“Don’t be stupid –”

“You’re being stupid, Jimin-ssi, if you think I’ll let you dictate my other friendships just because we’re the same person-”

“I’ll kill you.”

Taehyung chuckled again, but trailed off as his eyes landed on the mess he’d created on Jimin’s desk. “Look. I know this isn’t perfect. You can look at it and see all the lines that shouldn’t be there. But…” He ran his hand over it, like that could make it perfect again. “Even if we ignore the apology… Namjoon put his own position on the line, by going against management. And he put your all’s position on the line, too. He wouldn’t do that for just any friend. Actually… he wouldn’t do that for any other person on this planet. But he did it for me. At a time he could have stopped giving a shit about my career, because I endangered it myself.” And Taehyung would never forget that. He would take any cold shoulder to keep that friend.

“And Yoongi fought with Namjoon, his best friend, left him waiting on the street, for me. Because he thought that would be the best, for our group. Yoongi.” Who usually left all the strategic thinking to Namjoon. Who prided himself in supporting Namjoon, no matter what.

Jimin nodded, barely perceptible in the corner of Taehyung’s eyes.

“It’s okay that he can hurt me like that. That he can make me panic with a couple words. I’m fine with you guys being the people I’m most vulnerable with, and no one being able to stop it. It sucked, true, being treated like that without an idea why, without anything at hand I could do to help with the situation… But I messed up big time, Jimin, with that punch. Honestly? There’s nothing but gratitude when I think about this whole mess now. When I think about Namjoon.” You don’t have to feel anything else, either.

Jimin met his eyes, then, like before, in Jungkook’s room, to make sure Taehyung meant it. He nodded as he saw the answer in Taehyung’s eyes.

Taehyung smiled sadly. “Now I just have to make that true for Joon-ie, too, somehow. To make up for the troubles.”

Jimin chuckled, staring at the drawing again. “He’ll probably say the same about you, you know that, right?”

Taehyung sighed. “Why should he? Not a lot to be grateful for. My member saved my ass, his turned his life to hell for weeks.”

Jimin looked up at that, his dry eyes almost condescending. “You’re an idiot. You would’ve done anything to help –”

“So what? Even if I had done anything, I wouldn’t be able to make up for it. He’s got nothing to be grateful for, not like I do.”

Jimin sighed. “He’s got you. Maybe that’s enough. Probably is, if you ask him.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. It didn’t make sense. And it probably never would. But it didn’t have to. He could just be lucky, sometimes. If life decided to give him these friends, he wasn’t going to waste too much thought into whether he deserved them or not. He’d just do his best.

“I did ask him, you know.”

Taehyung immediately looked up at Jimin’s curious voice, like he’d just uncovered a truth, or connected the dots.

Jimin didn’t look up, didn’t break his thousand-yard-stare through his desk. “I once asked him. He was talking about everyone adding value to his life, and we’d just fought, you and me. And I don’t remember how we got there, but I asked, about your value. For him.”

For some reason, Taehyung didn’t dare to breathe, scared of interrupting Jimin’s concession.

‘The heart of BTS’ – people said that about Jimin, but the true reason was too ingrained between them for anyone else to grasp it. It wasn’t because he felt strongly himself – he did – but because he made them feel, unapologetically, loudly. Jimin was the chest, harbouring and protecting their hearts, treasuring like a protective home. Jimin offered a place to bring it all alive, to the last drop, and embrace it together.

Now, their heart was smiling at the lines representing the seven of them, offering Taehyung a piece of his gold. “He said you’re the base. Where he goes to find himself.”

The base? Taehyung? How?

When had Taehyung ever –

‘I’ll take a bullet for you, and I won’t ask for permission to do it.’

‘You make life a lot easier.’

‘I needed you.’

‘He loves you, too. A lot. You know that, right?’

“It’s okay.” Jimin’s voice distorted through the swarm of memories, the swelling emotion Taehyung didn’t have a name or image for. “I forgot, too. Of course you’d be the one to bring out more of him by talking to him only once. Who else?”

Taehyung hadn’t forgotten. He knew he had the same place in Namjoon’s heart as the other way around, had known it even before.

And still.

The difference between knowing, and knowing, once again. The difference between the sun in a picture and the warmth on his skin. And to think that he still had it, after the mistakes he did, after the hardships they had faced – he really was a lucky guy.

Lucky with Namjoon, with Yoongi, with Hoseok and Seokjin and Jungkook.

And this idiot of course. The one that wouldn’t listen to Taehyung, whatever he said. The who wouldn’t admit on worrying about him, even with a gun to his head. Who mumbled, like he’d forgotten about Taehyung. “Maybe it really is okay. This chaos, and also… maybe it’s okay to use the safety net for once. To make everyone bend and strain. That’s what it’s there for, isn't it?”

Taehyung smiled. Maybe he does listen after all. But also… This was his chance, wasn’t it? “And you?” He asked, boldly, because his words were stronger than a gun to his head, with Jimin. “What am I to you?”

Jimin snorted, a smirk on his face as he didn’t look up. “You think you can take it? It’s not nearly as romantic as Joon-ie’s answer.”

Taehyung waited. Prepared a silence he knew Jimin would fill.

“You’re an idiot. That’s what you are to me.”

Taehyung almost rolled his eyes, but Jimin had warned him. And thankfully, they stood past both kinds of knowing right now, so Taehyung didn’t take it too personally.

“You never think. Ever. You’re annoying, you act like you don’t care about anyone, and act like a child when you don’t get what you want – you’re the greatest pain in the ass...”

“Come on,” Taehyung drawled over the bits of honest annoyance in Jimin’s voice. They were best friends, it was Jimin’s job to deal with Taehyung’s annoying sides. “You know you love me, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin scoffed, a mocking smile still on his voice. “I don’t. You’re a nuisance, an uncivilised barbarian who draws on people’s desks for no reason at all – and the worst part? I don’t have hope for you to get better. It is what it is. Take it or leave it. And for whatever goddamn reason we took it –”

“I was here before you.”

“– and you’re here now, so it’s too late to get rid of you.”

Taehyung pouted. An over-the-top, TV-ready pout.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Why do I even give a shit? Even when you ask questions like these, you don’t really care. You’re too stupid for me to worry about, your skull is too thick to get hurt – I should help Namjoon. Poor, sensitive soul. Dealing with buffoons like you –”

Taehyung sniggered.

Jimin was laughing, too, but it dwindled down slowly. “You’re the idiot. Someone to hate. To be angry at.” He sighed. “Someone to criticise, and to accept despite all of that. It’s so much easier to start with you…” … than myself.

And with that – Taehyung could live with that. Would live with that, like a badge of honour in a battle that wasn’t one. And he’d keep fighting in Jimin’s place, too.

But they couldn’t let it stretch too long, this moment of honesty. Because it was them, Jimin and Taehyung, and some words were better left hidden between lines of bickering than too loud of a silence. So, Taehyung whispered, “You learned to accept yourself by accepting me? That’s the most romantic you’ve ever been, Jimin-ssi.”

“Shut up.”

Taehyung chuckled – “Is it because I’m you and you are me?” – and bent out of the way as Jimin tried to kick him.

Jimin shook his head, trying to scowl over his flustered smile. “Just get out.”

“Fine, fine, I’m leaving.” Taehyung conceded, knowing he’d done his job for the moment. Jimin would be okay, if he could laugh like that. But his eyes fell on the drawing again as he straightened from his position. It was there, the symbol and the meaning, but the mess underneath was distracting. And it would keep distracting Jimin.

So, he reached for the penholder and turned it upside down, spilling the contents on the desk, ignoring Jimin’s complains as he reached for an eraser.

But before he could even touch the drawing, Jimin grabbed his wrist. “Don’t.”

Taehyung looked up. “I’ll draw a new one.”

“Don’t.”

“Jimin-ah, don’t be sentimental about the wrong things.” Taehyung laughed. “You need to let go. It will be like new.”

But Jimin didn’t let go. He plucked the eraser from his grip instead, and worked on a far tip of one of the broad lines Taehyung had drawn. “It won’t. See?” He didn’t look up. “It’s smearing. You’re going to ruin my desk even worse, for nothing. Just leave it.”

Taehyung sighed. Sometimes he wished he could give Jimin’s brain a good wash, to rinse out all the unnecessary dirt and weight. “Fine.”

But Jimin was smiling again. “It’s okay. It looks good like this as well. Thank you, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung couldn’t help but smile back, even with the bitter taste of knowing that he’d added to that dirt. That Jimin would let it bother him for more days. That Namjoon wasn’t back to normal yet.

But that was just one of the risks, wasn’t it? However he hated every time it happened, however he promised to try to do better, he would never be able to rule it out completely.

Getting hurt was just one side of the coin, hurting them was the other.

What a troublesome, invaluable coin.

“Thank you, Park Jimin.”

The good thing about Jimin: Taehyung didn’t care much about his requests. Or his boundaries.

The very next evening, when Jimin was out, armoured with liquid detergent and toothpaste and other remedies of the internet, he could scrub until there were no traces left.

Then, the circle would return, rounder than before, and the wave almost perfect, the inner parts like mirror images.

Then, quick letters. ‘Thank you, BTS.’

Chapter Text

Taehyung froze.

Not because of Jimin’s panicked “Whoaa-” swallowed by the deserted hall leading to backstage, not because of the phone skidding past them on the linoleum floor, not because his best friend stumbling next to him.

No. Taehyung froze in midst of his reflex to catch him, a mocking laugh wilting on his face, because of a deep voice going “Whoopsie,” just a beat too late to be genuine.

Suddenly, the air was solid, making Taehyung’s hair stand as he stepped past his crouching friend reaching for his phone on the floor.

“Ah, Namjoon’s angry puppy, isn’t it?” Jungdae’s grin was just as unashamed, just as condescending, just as fury-igniting as the last time, and it turned the whole year that had passed unreal. His hands were buried in the pockets of his pants, casual as it got. “And who is that? The runt of the litter?”

Two sentences.

Two small sentences, and Taehyung’s blood was already boiling.

Jimin straightened behind him, stiffness radiating enough to reach Taehyung without seeing him.

“What do you want?” Taehyung gritted out as Jungdae didn’t make a move to walk past them, continuing to stare at them with mocking curiosity.

His grin widened at Taehyung’s question. “Just checking if you’ve learned your lesson.” He eyed Taehyung up and down once. “You don’t seem much brighter. You know, I told your leader it would come biting him if he keeps shielding you.” He leaned forward, whispered, like he was sharing juicy gossip with his friend. “But he was just too eager, wasn’t he?”

It was the same.

Taehyung was just as angry, maybe even more. He’d forgotten, after weeks and months of regret, why exactly he had thrown that punch. Now, the reminder rushed through his veins.

But at the same time, it was different. Despite the anger pulsing through his body, the twitch in his muscles, it took him no effort to hold still. Not a cell in his body thought it was worth it.

Behind him, Jimin didn’t try to hold him back either, though he must have seen the clenched jaw and squared shoulders, a sign of trust Taehyung was grateful for. Instead, he stepped forward, next to Taehyung, much more nonchalant, the lack of featherlight grace in his steps only noticeable for those who knew him best. “What do you want?” He asked like he meant it, honest confusion in the furrowed brows and tilted head.

Jungdae grinned at him, too, teeth flashing like hungry dogs.

Taehyung wanted to wipe it off his face.

“I’m bored,” came the cheeky answer with a tiny shrug. “And your friend provided me with some quality entertainment last time.” His words were dripping of smugness and confidence, the arrogance of an untouchable king amongst peasants.

Jimin’s frown deepened in incomprehension. He turned to Taehyung and their eyes met for a second.

An unassuming glint flashed through Jimin’s eyes, revealing more than a hundred words. Jimin wasn’t confused, no matter what his face said. This was Jimin on a hunt, Jimin who wanted something, Jimin with the same hunger before his best dance moves on stage, hiding behind that mask of cluelessness.

At the same time, it was Jimin with righteous confidence, its source unknown to Taehyung, but it was turning the tension in Taehyung into a manageable shape, loosening the knots around Taehyung’s chest.

Then the corner of Jimin’s mouth twitched, like a tiny trigger, and the compressed energy morphed, laughter bubbled up, and Taehyung averted his face from both of them to smother the laughter Jimin conjured like nothing.

Jimin didn’t hide. He laughed straight into Jungdae’s face.

Pan Jungdae’s voice was venom. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin laughed, not sounding it at all. “Just… What are you? Five? Don’t you have friends to entertain yourself with? Hyung-nim?” He added hastily in a pretence of respect that was worse than the lack thereof, making Taehyung chuckle again. Yoongi would be proud.

Jungdae stepped towards Jimin, a sharp and dangerous angle in his eyes, but Taehyung ignored the urge to shift between them without dropping his smile. He wouldn’t take this moment from Jimin.

Jungdae’s eyes darted to Taehyung, like he hadn’t expected him to restrain himself, and back to Jimin, blatant distaste visible like a clear sky for the first time. “Seems like empty arrogance is a team trait with you guys.” He pulled out his hands, crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was towering over Jimin, almost taller by a head. “Maybe I should change that. Show you how easy it is to shatter pretty glass dolls into dust. Or do you think your leader can protect you a second time?” His eyes flashed between them, and despite everything, Taehyung’s muscles tensed.

He was doing the same thing. Jungdae was trying to get them riled up, to get them to make another mistake. He was playing the same game, and thinking back of Namjoon’s words, it seemed to be the only game he was good at. Spreading gasoline around, waiting for someone else to set the spark. And he was good at it, because Taehyung would have bristled and burned at this point already.

But Jimin grinned, showing his teeth, calm like the surface hiding the powerful currents, and his unwavering confidence made it easier to stand back, to trust his best friend’s lead. “What about you? Can you keep up with the RM a second time?”

Not the words Taehyung would have chosen, but Jimin’s eyes still glinted in that specific way when he led up to the climax of the melody, and he laughed again, so Taehyung let himself enjoy the show, enjoy the way Jungdae clenched his teeth, trying to hide his rising irritation in pathetic tries. Even Seokjin controlled his expressions better than this, and most of the time, he didn’t even try.

Jungdae snarled, looking down on Jimin. “Life must be easy, cowering behind your leader like that.”

“It is, actually.” Jimin stepped forward, further into Jungdae’s reach, not marching in, but sauntering carelessly, like a break between his moves. “I’m Park Jimin of BTS. The runt of the litter, I heard some say. Just a girly little dancer. And still,” he rolled his head, baring his neck to an open target before he put his own hands in his pockets lazily, “no one’s ever dared to punch me yet.”

There was a beat of silence, showing just how low the blow came. The next moment, Jungdae’s hands were on Jimin’s collar, Taehyung’s hand on Jungdae’s wrist, and Jimin’s stupid grin still firm on its place, though he had to be standing on his toes now.

“Yah, you cocky brat-” Jungdae started, fuming with an angry grimace, his hands shaking.

Jimin just sniggered, even in his position. He reached for Taehyung’s wrist, slowly pulled it away. His smile cooled. “Come on. I dare you to pull RM’s wrath on you twice.” Both of his hands crept up to his collar, where Jungdae’s grip was firm like a sculpture. “I’m bored, too. Mess with us one more time, and let’s watch the fireworks together. I dare you.”

The hands didn’t move, the face only twitched in fury like a caged bull, until –

“Jimin-ah?” Seokjin’s voice echoed through the hall, dispersing the tension enough to give them room for movement.

But as Jungdae slowly withdrew his arms, Jimin whispered again. “ ‘He who runs away, lives to fight another day.’ Smart choice.”

He turned around before Jungdae could reply, leaving Taehyung with his struggle to reign in his laughter. “Jin-hyung! Look who we just met!”

Seokjin came closer, his usual scolding face wavering at Jimin’s tone. “The feast is going to start - oh.” Seokjin’s eyes landed on Jungdae, and his expression immediately morphed into his ‘professional distance’ variant.

Jimin, on the other hand, casually re-adjusted his collar. “Hyung, this is Pan Jungdae-ssi. Jungdae-ssi, Jin-hyung.”

“Ah, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. I apologise for not recognizing you, these guys get me distracted sometimes.” Seokjin cackled, wielding the awkwardness like his favourite weapon usually reserved for annoying interviews, and reached out his hand for a shake.

Jungdae, fuming, ignored the hand. “It’s okay, Jin-ssi.” He seemed even more restrained now that Seokjin was here, either due to the growing audience or Seokjin’s blatant refusal to read the room. “I can see that -” He started, but Seokjin interrupted him.

“Ahh, no need for such formalities, you can call me hyung.” He flung his arm around Jungdae’s shoulders before the other could evade him. He didn’t seem too bothered about taking the easy road of dissolving their little meeting by just dragging them up to the event room, instead settling for a similar route to Jimin as he flashed Jungdae a smile with the same hunger as the dancer. “Aren’t you an old friend of our Namjoon?”

Taehyung couldn’t help it as his eyes were drawn to Jimin at the word ‘friend’, and he had to press his lips together again.

This was their terrain, wasn’t it? Taehyung had let himself be lured into anger and mistakes last time, but this, controlling the room with words and laughter, morphing it into the scene they needed, watching Jungdae try to get a grip in this ridiculousness while Seokjin and Jimin handled him like a prop to make fun off… It bothered him more than Taehyung’s fist ever would.

“We know each other,” Jungdae gritted out as he shifted uncomfortably, visibly confused about Seokjin’s amicable attitude, but Seokjin clung on.

“Don’t be shy, then, any friend of Namjoon is our friend, too, right?”

Taehyung just shrugged as Jimin answered for both of them, voice sweet as honey. “Of course.”

“Congratulations on your award, by the -” Seokjin tilted his head at Jungdae but put on another awkward laughter after a second of stunned silence. The rapper had been nominated, but Taehyung didn’t think he’d won anything. “Ah, sorry, I mixed it up again, how rude of me. I hope you can forgive your hyung, Jungdae-ah, I saw so many faces today, I thought I saw you with us on stage at the end...”

Jungdae looked absolutely murderous, even as he took Seokjin’s apologetic pats in stride. “No problem, Jin-hyung-”

But Jimin cut the snarky remark off as his elbow landed on Taehyung’s shoulder, his arm shaking in unison with Taehyung as they tried half-heartedly to hold their chuckles. “Don’t worry, hyung, he’s very kind and forgiving.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened comically. “Really? It’s a shame we don’t know each other well, then, isn’t it? We should do a collaboration! That might help you with the awards, too, right?” And he burst into another round of exaggerated laughter, doubling over and pulling Jungdae down with him like he had just conjured a spine-breaking joke. “Ah, Jungdae-ah, you really are such a good sport!” He let the chuckles run out into another awkward silence as Jungdae finally shrugged off his hold, then patted Jungdae’s arm like he’d let go on his own. “You really should talk to Namjoon about it. You’re a rapper, right? It might help with your PR, too, working with RM.”

“That won’t be necessary, I don’t need -” Jungdae eyed the hallway uncomfortably, where a clueless staff member closed the door of a distant exit behind him. Seokjin was coincidently blocking his path.

“Ah, no need to be shy, he is very friendly, too-”

“I said it’s fine,” Jungdae snapped, frustrated that Seokjin wouldn’t even give him the chance to finish any biting remarks. “I will leave-”

“You know, it’s normal to be a little intimidated of him. Especially since he’s started representing all idols, our whole nation really, on an international level. But he hasn’t changed much from his trainee years, always helpful to those in need.”

Hook, line and sinker.

Jimin giggled into Taehyung’s ear as Jungdae turned back at Seokjin.

“Don’t worry, I know he’s harmless.”

Seokjin contorted his face again in a dramatic fashion, opening his eyes widely. “As harmless as the world’s most famous idol leader gets, maybe.” He clapped on Jungdae’s shoulder patronizingly. “But you don’t have to worry about that. I will tell him to go easy on you.”

Unfortunately, they never heard Jungdae’s answer as another voice joined them, accompanied by footsteps from backstage direction. “Guys? Why are you still here? I just got a message that the buffet is about to start.”

The subject of their conversation.

They all turned around to watch Namjoon approach without looking up, engulfed in his phone.

“Ah, Namjoon-ah, I was looking for you.”

“I forgot my phone backstage,” Namjoon answered absentmindedly, “and then remembered a phone call, so I took car–” Namjoon stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the group, now that he was close enough that Jimin and Taehyung weren’t blocking his view. His face immediately fell into a familiar blank expression with professionalism, a very useful one, ranging from ‘I-don’t-want-to-strangulate-this-press-member-on-national-TV’ over ‘I-don’t-want-an-explanation-on-why-Jungkook-is-hanging-from-the-ceiling-but-I-want-him-down’ to ‘I-didn’t-sign-up-for-this-where-is-Hoseok’.

Taehyung loved it to death. “Hyung, look who came to greet us.”

Namjoon turned to him, and gears turning behind the mask without breaking it, even as Taehyung grinned at him. He had an examining look over Jimin and Taehyung, and he put his phone in his pocket as he straightened a little. “All good here?”

“Of course, RM-ssi. We were just talking about how intimidating your presence can be.”

Namjoon locked eyes with Seokjin, and a whole silent conversation happened between the two that Taehyung had no way or interest to keep up with.

Watching Jungdae was way more entertaining.

Jungdae’s eyes were on Namjoon, his animosity on full display as he stared like he wanted to read his mind. He wants to see his work, Taehyung realized. After the way Jimin had talked, he wanted to see Namjoon hide from him, he wanted to repair his ego. He wanted to see that the apology still mattered.

But it didn’t. They hadn’t talked much about it, but Taehyung knew it. Yes, the nightmares hadn’t been gone overnight. Neither were the flashbacks. And there had been painful days his presence had made it worse, when Namjoon had fled the room and Taehyung hadn’t felt like staying home for the rest of the day.

But even then, they hadn’t been alone, either of them, with Jimin and Seokjin, and Hoseok and Jungkook and Yoongi and they’d put the pieces together, each time closer to the unshakable structure their team had always been.

And those days had diminished into a bundle of painful memories over time. They already had a bunch of those, like everyone had in their life, and they were professional enough to navigate through them when need be.

Jungdae might have penetrated their fort once, but he was out now. He had no way to touch any of them.

And really, most of the damage didn’t stem from him, as Seokjin had rebelled that day. He’d never had that power. He’d just been an instigator of hurt amongst each other, and someone like Pan Jungdae wouldn’t understand the unique brand of hurt caused by love, or the scarless heals that were stronger than before.

Namjoon sighed. “Well, I got texts from Hoseok to hurry, so we should go back upstairs.”

“Where are you going? Don’t tell me the great Namjoon is too scared to face me?” Jungdae’s smile was luring, the one that Taehyung had seen a couple times now. But behind it was the obvious frustration that had built up since Jimin had first laughed at him, the temptation to build back the confidence that was shattered by a couple mocking words.

Namjoon turned to him not reciprocating the intensity in the slightest. “No.” He turned to Jimin and Taehyung. “Let’s go.”

“See?” Jungdae scoffed, his eyes meeting Jimin’s. “That’s how you hide your tail and run.”

Namjoon just rolled his eyes, making a move to split the group with this path, but froze at Jungdae’s following words. “Take a leaf out of your leader’s book, runt.”

Namjoon’s brows rose at the word, and Jimin’s hand slid of Taehyung’s shoulder as Taehyung grimaced at the words. Jungdae was not being smart about this.

“Runt?” Namjoon repeated as he stood in the centre, pursing his face like he’d bit into a lemon, the word rumbling off his tongue like on an unpaved road. He seemed thoroughly confused as his eyes sped over Jimin and Taehyung. Seokjin’s eyes were trained on them as well, looking at Jimin like he was gauging how bad the conversation had been going before he’d interrupted.

And Taehyung tried to remember the reason he was protecting the guy who, on top of everything else he’d done last year, had just called his best friend a runt and raised him by his collar. He really tried. He came up empty. “He’s talking about Jimin, hyung.”

Namjoon’s eyes landed first on Taehyung, then on Jimin with raised eyebrows, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

Taehyung shrugged, already unapologetic for what he was about to say. “He did call him that before, too. When he threatened him.”

Both Namjoon’s and Jimin’s eyes snapped to him with surprise and, in Jimin’s case, a hint of ‘are you out of your stupid mind?' to the side.

Jimin opened his mouth, but Namjoon was faster. He didn’t even bother with Jimin, facing Jungdae instead. “You threatened my member?”

Ah. Now, Taehyung did remember the reason.

I’ll finish him, if he ever messes with you again. Or any of the others. Trust me. That’s what Namjoon had said.

The sharpness in his voice wasn’t aggressive, not yet. More like one of Seokjin’s kitchen knives he sharpened religiously, waved at them when they made fun of his age, and wouldn’t hesitate to pull out as a weapon of choice if there was a burglar in their home.

Jungdae smirked back. “What if I did?”

Taehyung’s eyes darted to Seokjin, and their eldest did have a similar sharpness in his eyes as he watched Jungdae like a hawk.

Jimin tugged sharply at Taehyung’s sleeve, even as he shrugged casually. “I mean, I didn’t feel very threatened.”

“It was really more entertaining to watch than intimidating, hyung.” Taehyung put his arm around Jimin protectively, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. There was no reason to make this a big deal. They had shown Jungdae that they weren’t scared of him.

Namjoon’s eyes lingered on both of them for a couple seconds, before his posture shifted. He pressed his lips together, then ran his tongue over them as he straightened his shoulders and turned his whole body at Jungdae.

A switch had been flipped, and the tone of the hallway changed jarringly.

Namjoon stood taller now, every bit the leader he was, as he stepped forward, closer to Jungdae. Not next to his members, but in front of them. His aura alone was enough to tell the others to stand back, and if there had been a stage, each of his steps would be the sole focus of the whole stadium.

Jungdae realised it, too. Stupidly, there was no fear in his eyes yet, but he did square himself.

Namjoon stopped when he was closer to Jungdae than any of them. “Listen, Pan Jungdae.” His voice was quiet, but without another sound in the hallway to compete with the absoluteness it carried. “Last time, I wasn’t in a position to talk much. I’ll give you that.”

Jungdae smirked, his eyes shining a little at the concession, though Namjoon’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest.

“I might have seemed... agreeable. As I try to be, many times.” He tilted his head, like in thought. “I did try to warn you... but we both know you're not very good at reading the fine print.”

He nodded over his shoulder towards Jimin and Taehyung. “That, plus my members seem to give your words about as much weight as I do.” He paused. “None.”

He inched closer, just the tiniest bit. “That’s why you’ll get a free pass. Just this once.”

Jungdae’s smirk widened. “Like you got one, last year?”

Namjoon chuckled. “See? That’s what I mean. But you really should learn how to read, because not everyone’s going to spell it out for you.”

He looked down to the ground, slowly reached forward with the tip of his shoe, white and pristine, and dragged it across the floor between them.

“There’s a line for you, here.”

He looked up again. “Your side is the white area. The safe side, if you will. Where you and my members don’t interact. Do whatever you want in there. It’s your playground.”

Jungdae’s mouth twitched as he crept closer, too, a challenging look in his eyes. Idiot. Stupid, blind idiot. “I like grey much better, Namjoon. You know that.”

Namjoon laughed, and pointed at Jungdae. “That’s where the bad news kick in.” His smile vanished as sudden as it came. “There is no grey for you anymore. Or even black. There’s only a second of time, a moment, really, before you’ll be crushed.”

He continued before Jungdae could open his mouth. “The easiest way for that is mentioning last year, because that’s off-limits for you. To the public, or any individual. Including me and my members. I remember you hate restrictions like these, you can’t really watch your mouth, but you’ll have to learn. Because if you don’t, you’ll give me the right to breach those agreements. And a whole year has passed, bringing up that incident is going to cause much more harm to you than any of us, I’ll promise you that. If you thought for even a second that I’ve been sitting on my hands all this time, you don’t know me at all.”

Taehyung blinked. He had never doubted that Namjoon had taken precautions for a ‘next time’, but just now he recognized the blind trust that had made him forget to ask about details. He had just assumed that chapter had been closed, no matter how unsatisfying it had been.

But neither Seokjin nor Jimin seemed surprised. They didn’t take their eyes off the stand-down in front of them.

“But that’s not even the dumbest mistake you can make. It’s not the most effective way to get destroyed. The most thorough option.” Namjoon stared right into Jungdae’s soul, and Taehyung couldn’t fault the tiny step back Jungdae took despite the thunderous expression on his face. “If you threaten my members one more time…”

He stepped forward, over the imaginary line he’d drawn himself, and Jungdae was forced back now, uncertainty morphing into fear before he tried to hide it again. “If you even think about touching any of them… Let’s just say that I don’t solve my problems with empty apologies. I have no use for your apology. But I will make you beg for a chance to apologise.”

“You think you can win against me, you –”

“You’ve already lost,” Namjoon cut through his words, quiet like a laser. “You lost, when you made your choice, years ago. You’re just lucky no one knows yet.”

Whatever it was Namjoon was whispering about, it had stuffed the words into Jungdae’s throat. His wide eyes were locked in Namjoon’s, almost shaking in panic.

“You have already rigged the playground to your own doom. Don’t drag me into it, because I will make sure it becomes your fate.”

Even Taehyung could feel the unexpected cold radiating from Namjoon, and Jimin shifted closer, too.

Another moment of speechless silence, and Namjoon straightened. “I don’t want to win against you, Pan Jungdae.” His voice had reached a normal level by now, losing most of its intensity. “I’m not playing with you. I didn’t come here playing games, and I’m not planning on changing that. And you can’t force me to play with you. If you try,” he shrugged once, “I will end your game, and continue my day.”

He stepped back, giving back the personal space he’d breached without effort. “I know you think you’re better off alone, and at this point, I’m not sure you can change that even if you wanted to. But I strongly suggest you find a different pastime than messing with us. Or anybody else, really, but that’s none of my business. Do it for your own career. And your personal wellbeing, too.”

The tension in the air was still palpable, and Taehyung was professional enough not to crack up, even as Jimin turned at him with a smirk, but when Jungdae’s eyes darted over to him, he couldn’t stop the gleeful grin creeping on his face.

Before Jungdae could make another self-destructive mistake, however, his eyes darted to something behind Taehyung.

As Taehyung turned around, curious at the sudden development, a threatening voice coated in amusement echoed through the hall, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Well, well, well. If this isn’t Pan Jungdae. I have been looking for you for a loong time, partner.”

Even Namjoon turned around while Jimin pulled Taehyung instinctively out of Yoongi’s path, letting the rapper approach with echoing footfall and glacial eyes.

A smirk shimmered on his face, adorning the almost tangible lethal needles shooting out of his eyes as his steps grew in louder in a steady beat. He didn’t give any of the others even the smallest glance.

Taehyung had never seen Yoongi’s blue fury burning openly like this. Sure, he’d been angry before, enough to make all of them take a step back, but Taehyung didn’t remember animosity radiating off him like waves of cold fire, just by his walk.

Yoongi wasn’t here to play games, either.

Jungdae took a step back as his shoulders hunched a little. “Yoongi-hyung.”

Thankfully, Namjoon was already positioning himself between Yoongi and Jungdae, and Seokjin seemed ready to intervene, too.

“Yoongi-ssi, we were just leaving.”

Yoongi didn’t look at Namjoon as he tried to sidestep him. “Great. Why don’t you guys go ahead? I’ll catch up later.”

Namjoon looked at him flatly, blocking his way. “I won’t save you a seat.”

Yoongi’s smirk widened, though his eyes were still pinned on Jungdae. “I guess I’ll have to sit with Jungdae, then.”

“Hyung.” Namjoon said warningly, but Yoongi seemed unfazed.

“Don’t worry, Namjoon. Just a reunion between old friends. I don’t need you to babysit me. It’s fine, right, Jungdae-ah?”

It was not fine. Taehyung could see it, Jimin could see it, even Jungdae behind Namjoon could see it.

Of course, Namjoon saw it, too. Giving up on Yoongi, though, he turned around to Jungdae with an exasperated sigh. “I’m assuming your team is waiting for you, as well?”

Jungdae’s eyes met Namjoon’s, and Taehyung almost thought he was stupid enough to not take the offered exit.

But he did.

He nodded once, whatever he was trying to convey stayed a mystery to Taehyung, and crept back towards door with the stairways leading up.

Yoongi’s face fell into a snarl, he tried to step past again, but Namjoon caught him in a steady grip at the same time Taehyung reached for his arm.

“Hyung.” Jimin’s low voice seemed to snap Yoongi out of it as he turned around, his anger written in his features, but harmless to them. His eyes travelled over to Taehyung, like he saw traces of something in his face, a flash of pain quickly drowned by anger, and he looked after Jungdae again.

“I hope you’re praying, Jungdae.” He called.

Jungdae stopped, and turned around hesitantly.

Yoongi was seething, his pulse thumping under Taehyung’s fingers.

Namjoon looked almost pained for him.

“I hope you’re praying for Namjoon. Because the second he allows me to, I’ll find you. And I will make you pay for every single time you laid a finger on any of my members. For every filler word you uttered. Do you understand?”

Jungdae stood there, frozen. He flinched as Yoongi shoved against Namjoon’s shoulder without fighting Taehyung’s grip. “Do you fucking understand?”

There was a tiny nod, and Jungdae hurried away.

Even when they were alone, there was a stupor on Yoongi, like he was hoping Jungdae would come right back...

“Yoongi-hyung?” It was Namjoon’s careful voice that dared to touch that silence.

Yoongi tore his eyes from the hallway.

Namjoon smiled, chuckled even, light as a feather. “We’re fine, see?”

It took Yoongi a second to react, but he did look around then. At Seokjin, who clapped on his shoulder with a proud smile, at Jimin, who nodded in agreement, and at Taehyung, who made sure to dig out the brightest grin he could muster. “Hyung, Jungkook is going to throw a fit that he missed this.”

Yoongi blinked, and there was a silent “Yaah” from someone. Then he laughed, punched Taehyung’s shoulder and pulled him in to ruffle his hair, Namjoon already complaining about dongsaengs not managing to stay out of trouble.

They were fine.

“I can’t believe I missed this. Hob-ie-hyung, why did you have to go to the bathroom right when that happened?!”

“How was I supposed to know?!” Hoseok threw back across the table, half whispering, half shouting. “It’s not like I ignored the announcement of a dramatic showdown!”

Seokjin continued to tell a very dramatic version of the events that had unfolded earlier, eyes wide in amusement, hands gesticulating wildly. “It felt like our leader had turned into a mafia boss. He was all huge and intimidating, like when the badass army guys in dramas speak to the criminals. He drew a line on the floor, ‘don’t you dare to step over that’ and his usual big words – Pan Jungdae was speechless, I saw a fly land in his mouth, rub its face and flow away -”

Namjoon rolled his eyes as he brought his chopsticks to his mouth, “That didn’t happen -”, but Jungkook ignored it, voice still whiney like a child as he hit against the table. “Woaah. I can’t believe I missed it!”

“It totally did,” Seokjin replied to Namjoon with a fierce nod. “You didn’t see it.”

Namjoon gave him a flat look. “I was there.”

“But busy being cool.”

“It was pretty cool, hyung.”

“Aw, he’s blushing, it’s like he’s a whole different person,” Jimin giggled on Taehyung’s other side, turning Namjoon’s shade of red even darker.

“Yaah,” Yoongi interfered, pointing his chopsticks at Jimin and Taehyung with an amused smile. “Leave the guy alone.” He wiggled with his eyebrows as Namjoon ran a hand over his face with a groan.

“But Yoongi, you were the same.” Seokjin immediately latched on to Yoongi’s arm. “Taehyung-ah, did you see how scared he was, just by hearing Yoongi’s voice? I thought he was going to piss his pants. Yoongi-ah, you had the best dramatic entrance I’ve ever seen, and I graduated in film studies!”

“You know what the scariest part was?” Taehyung leaned forward, and Jungkook leaned closer, too, although there was plenty of space to the other tables, and the overall chatter was loud enough to grant them privacy during the banquet. “How Yoongi-hyung knew that he’d threatened Jimin earlier without even being there.”

As expected, Hoseok’s eyes widened even more, and Taehyung could have sworn he’d seen Jungkook’s chin wobble in disappointment of not being a witness to his hyungs’ moments of glory, but the rest of the table fell into a sudden silence.

Jimin, suddenly ramrod straight in his chair next to Taehyung, was squinting with a painful expression.

Yoongi’s sharp voice cut the silence. “He what?”

Taehyung straightened, too, eyes darting between Seokjin and Namjoon, who met each other’s eyes for just a second before Seokjin tentatively put down his chopsticks, ready to reach out (and hold down a certain someone if needed).

And it finally dawned on him. Seokjin had skipped that part, hadn’t he?

Yoongi’s outburst seemed to switch Jungkook’s attention, too. “Wait, he threatened Jimin-hyung?”

Taehyung almost confirmed it with more details, but he had to supress a wince as Jimin’s hard shoe hit his shin with sharp and intense pain. He turned to Yoongi, instead, intimidated by the harsh reaction. “I thought you knew,” he said weakly, though even that got him a glare from Jimin.

“How was I supposed know? Do I look like someone who would watch my friends getting threatened just to wait for dramatic entrance?!”

“Hyung, keep it down!” Namjoon hissed at Yoongi, his authority unquestionable even through the low voice.

Taehyung turned to Jimin, confused. “But he said, ‘for every time you laid a finger on them.’ What else was he talking about, then?”

Jimin lost his glare as his eyes widened before he buried his face in his hand. “Oh my god.”

“He punched you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hyung, are you okay?”

Taehyung flinched at the sudden reactions from four of their members, his hand automatically grabbing Jimin’s arm, like back when they were kids and Jimin would stand next to him even if he wasn’t involved in whatever Taehyung had come up with. “Jimin-ah…”

“He was talking about you, you idiot,” Jimin hissed under his breath, before he turned to the group. “Guys, I’m fine, he didn’t do anything.” But they took it as confirmation, and the reactions only increased.

Until Namjoon interrupted the chaos with a well-versed order. “Everyone, shut up.” He met Yoongi’s eyes, who’d jumped up, and gestured at the chair. “Yoongi-hyung, sit.”

Yoongi glared at him, about to bite back, but Namjoon’s expression was firm enough to slowly move him down.

Namjoon took a deep breath, and with him, the whole table did. He slowly turned to Jimin, once again, everyone else following him.

Jimin shrank in his chair.

“Jimin-ah.” Namjoon’s voice was calm and gentle despite the tense atmosphere, reminding Taehyung that while their leader might be the only one to make Yoongi follow orders, he was also their soft friend that would do anything for them. “Did he punch you? Or hurt you in any other way?”

Jimin didn’t hesitate. “No, he didn’t.”

Namjoon exhaled as he relaxed visibly. “Okay.” Then he turned to Taehyung. “Taehyung, what did you mean when you said that he ‘laid a finger’ on Jimin?”

“Nothing,” Jimin continued before Taehyung could say anything, already giving him a warning pinch under the table. “Just a misunderstanding -”

“I’m talking to Taehyung, Jimin. Taehyung, answer me – don’t look at Jimin.”

Taehyung hesitated only for a second longer. Between the two of them, Namjoon had more authority (and Jimin wouldn’t stay angry at Taehyung anyway), so the words tumbled out quickly before Jimin could find another way to interrupt him. “Heliftedhimbythecollar-”

A loud thud vibrated through the table, and suddenly, Jungkook was standing, Namjoon staring at him with an identical furious expression in his face, obviously not thinking about calling him down. Strangely, Yoongi had a smug expression as he watched Namjoon, a weird nuance of ‘I-told-you-so’, but only as Namjoon started to rise from his chair Taehyung truly realised the consequences of his loose lip. “Hyung, where are you going?”

“I swear you were better at this when we were younger, Taehyung,” Jimin whispered reproachfully. “Guys, people are looking over, please stop causing a scene.”

But Namjoon was up and not showing any sign that he was hearing them over the calculations in his head, until Hoseok pulled at his sleeve, Yoongi and Seokjin in similar positions next to them.

“Is he- Jungdae’s leaving!”

“Jeon Jungkook, sit down.”

The usage of his full name rather than the order made Jungkook turn to Seokjin. “But hyung, there’s a punk sitting across the hall thinking he can hurt Jimin-hyung –”

Jimin rolled his eyes as he tugged at Jungkook. “I’m fine.”

Taehyung blinked.

The whole table had burst into chaos for something he’d said, which would cause at least a moderate level of panic in him on any other day. But this time, only irritation rose in his chest. “Jungkook,” he snapped, loud enough to be sure the others heard him as well. “I was there. Don’t you think I would’ve said something if there was anything to take serious about it?”

He ignored Jimin turning to him in surprise. “I was right there. Do you really think I would have let him get away with anything less than he deserved?”

“How can you be so sure? How on earth are you so calm about it?!” Finally. Some acknowledgment that Taehyung wouldn’t just let someone treat his best friend like shit.

“Because Jimin was the coolest out of all today. Even when Jungdae held him up from the collar, Jimin was laughing at him. Jungdae was going crazy because he couldn’t scare him.” He paused, taking in the slightly calmer breaths around him. “And next second, Seokjin-hyung was there, and he had to let go anyway. And Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung put the fear of God in him later. Believe me, even he knows that he can’t scare Jimin or anyone. Better than anything that you can do now.”

“Jimin was laughing at him?” Jungkook squinted suspiciously. “Isn’t Jungdae way taller?”

“So what?” Jimin bristled in offense. Jungkook dropping the ‘hyung’ didn’t help, either. “I can’t handle myself because he has a couple inches on me? Does that make me a damsel?”

Taehyung gently interrupted, relieved as the others slowly gave in to the tugging hands and sat down. “Really, it was more like Jimin-ie bullying him instead the other way around.”

Hoseok nodded approvingly. “That’s our Jimin-ie.”

But Jimin wasn’t finished with the maknae yet, his glare sending daggers until Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I just meant -”

“Whatever you meant, Jeon Jungkook, you better mean it carefully or you’ll be the next overgrown damsel.”

“Namjoon, are you going to tell him?” Yoongi threw in, picking up his chopsticks, apparently mollified by Taehyung’s explanation like he hadn’t almost started a fight amidst of dozens of national stars.

“Tell me what?”

“That there was a security camera, and he already told the managers to ask for the footages.”

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to Namjoon, too. When had that happened?

Namjoon gave Yoongi a flat look. “It’s not for entertainment purposes, guys -”

“But if we already have it, it would be a waste not to use it for entertainment purposes, wouldn’t it?” Hoseok nudged him with a mischievous smile. “Come on, make the kid happy, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon gave him a flat look. “He’s not a toddler - You just want to watch yourself.”

They drifted into a light conversation then, about who wanted to watch the footage how much, and who was the coolest, but Taehyung’s mind couldn’t let go of a tiny little thought.

The security footage.

He scoured every moment of their encounter, trying to remember every word, every angle, every second, looking for anything that could be used against them. There was none, right? Taehyung had grabbed his wrist, but he’d been at Jimin’s collar, no one could blame him for that. Right?

“Taehyung-ah?”

Jimin was looking at him, an almost concerned frown on his tilted face.

The others were still talking, only Namjoon’s eyes on Taehyung, obviously waiting for his answer as well.

“I was just thinking about the footage.”

Namjoon nodded understandingly. “Do you think there might be something compromising for us on it?”

He didn’t sound accusing, and it should be fine, but Taehyung couldn’t help but remembering his grip around Jungdae’s wrist.

“We didn’t do anything,” Jimin answered for him, almost defensively. “If anything, he attacked me. Didn’t get very far, but still. And Taehyung only held him to stop him. We didn’t do anything.”

“We should be good, then,” Namjoon nodded, but his frown fell back on Jimin. “Are you sure you’re oka…” He interrupted himself with a chuckle at Jimin’s glare, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I know you can handle yourself.” He turned back to Taehyung. “Don’t worry, Taehyung-ah. Last time, they cut the footage as they wanted it, and I already made sure that won’t happen again. I can explain the details later, if you want. And I highly doubt that he’ll try anything after today.”

Taehyung nodded at Namjoon’s serious expression. More than his words, Namjoon’s confident tone calmed the uneasy feeling he hadn’t been able to pinpoint before. Maybe he’d asked for the details later, but for now it was enough. “Okay.”

Namjoon smiled, a rare spark of mischief in his eyes. “Also, I started recording immediately when I saw him, and he basically admitted threatening Jimin-ie while -”

But he was interrupted by Jimin’s excited high-five over the table – “Me, too! Great minds think alike, Joon-ie!” – leaving Taehyung looking back and forth between them, trying to understand – he should’ve at least seen Jimin, right? “When did you do that?”

Jimi grinned at him smugly. “When my phone fell. I’ve got pretty much everything.”

“Wow, that’s incredible.” Taehyung nodded approvingly, but then chuckled. “Now that I think about it, that one might be more harmful for us, though,” he mused, nudging Jimin with his elbow. “You were pretty provocative for a bit.”

Jimin gave him an indignant look as he whispered to avoid drawing the now-distracted leader’s attention back to them. “You know what, Kim Taehyung? I’m sure now. You were a much more reliable partner-in-crime, once upon time. Fame changed you.”

Taehyung shrugged back with a grin. “Still your partner-in-crime.”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

On the other side of the table, Jungkook was eagerly pushing a deal for the footage with Namjoon. “Come on, hyung, there has to be -”

“You can’t offer me anything I don’t already have.”

“Everything has a price.”

“Not my work ethics.”

“Ah, no, Kook-ah, I know what to do with that one.” Seokjin interfered before Jungkook could offer a sum. “You have to respond in kind. Work ethics.”

“That’s smart,” Jungkook nodded at the eldest. “We have a couple ad shootings coming up, right? I promise I’ll learn all my lines, and come one hundred percent prepared to set every day for two weeks. Just let me watch the footage.”

Namjoon continued to eat. “That’s your job, Jeon Jungkook. You already get paid for that. You are one of the richest people in the world for doing exactly that.”

“Coffee.” Seokjin stage-whispered not very subtly at Jungkook.

“I’ll bring you coffee every day.”

“That’s the job of the staff we employ, who already get paid for that, too.”

“I’ll…”

“Cook, you could cook for him.”

Jungkook turned at Seokjin in dismay. “For two weeks? “

“I’ll help you,” Seokjin egged on between laughter. “You need to crack him, Kook-ah. It was glorious. It was magnificent. You will never see anything like it, I promise. Don’t give up now.”

Namjoon waited patiently, obviously intrigued by the offers.

“Uhm... I will...” Jungkook started, obviously torn, then finished his sentence quickly before he could change his mind, “I will cook anything you want for two weeks.”

“That’s a high offer, Joon-ah. Take it,” Yoongi threw in over Seokjin’s panic (“Not anything!”), even as he filled up his plate with the otherwise forgotten food.

Namjoon cocked his brow, tilted his head, like he was considering it. He was, Taehyung knew, but only because Jungkook was so very obviously suffering. “A month.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Hyung-iee.”

Namjoon shrugged. “And you’ll take care of my turn with the dishes as well.”

Jungkook’s jaw fell before he gathered himself indignantly. “A month of slavery? For what? Just to watch my hyung beat up someone with his words?” He started filling up his plate, too, ignoring Seokjin trying to convince him to pursue it. “No, thanks. That was my experience in my formative years anyway. I still have the ‘Patience is just as important as actions’ speech on repeat whenever I want.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Oh, I’ve got that one as well.”

Namjoon laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop the chores.”

Jungkook continued shovelling food onto his plate. “No, thanks, hyung. I’m sure you dropped a new cypher. I don’t care. I should be able to buy the world with two weeks of cooking, I’m the Golden Maknae of BTS, my efforts deserve more respect around here –”

And he broke into a Jin-worthy rant that Namjoon didn’t manage to calm for the whole meal -

“Wow, hyung, it really is glorious –”

“It was even better in person, Kook-ie.”

“Speaking of, Yoongi-hyung, why did you call him partner there?”

“We shared the stage a couple of times, way back in Daegu.”

“What?”

“Is that why he seemed scared of you? He already knew that you can be ... uhm, unpredictable?”

“Yah, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Come on, hyung, you know what I mean.”

“I mean, I did get in a fight for him once.”

“What?” “No way!” “Hyung, is this really the time for that story?”

“No, Yoongi-hyung, you need to tell us now!”

“I mean, there isn’t much to tell. One of the groups had cornered him, way before BigHit, he was alone, I stuck up for him, we both got our ass kicked.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Yaah, Jungkook-ah, did you hear him? He got beaten up.”

“Hyung, how many times have you went against a bigger group, all on your own? It’s pretty badass!”

“But doesn’t that mean he owes you, hyung? Why is he so hung up on Namjoon?”

“They got into BigHit around the same time. I was a little later. They’d already had their beef before I got there.”

“Noo, Yoongi-hyung, there’s more to it, look at that face. What are you hiding, Joon-ah?”

“It might have gotten worse when you got there, hyung. I don’t think he cared much about me personally until we got grouped together, and became friends and stuff.”

“Wait, he was jealous? That’s what this is about?”

“Over Yoongi?”

“Yaaah! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry, Yoongi-hyung, Jungkook is already fuming with the thought that someone other than him might get possessive over you.”

“Namjoon, is it really because –”

“Don’t worry, hyung, it wasn’t because of you. It just increased his bitterness. Then came the trash-bin-incident, anyway.”

“Ah, the one where you dislocated his shoulder?”

“Namjoon-hyung did?”

“I didn’t touch him!”

“That’s not what the other trainees said.”

“That’s exactly what the others said, because otherwise I would’ve been kicked out that day.”

“Well, it’s not what the others said when there weren’t any managers around.”

“Then they lied, because I didn’t. He tripped.”

“You mean you tripped him?”

“No…. but I might have seen that he was stepping on his shoelaces. But he was the one who charged me! And didn’t read the sign about the wet floor!”

“Hyung, do you think there’s a security footage of that lying around somewhere?”