Work Text:
i.
The contract is on its way to ending in 2019, and the pressure of yet another comeback, with greater expectations than ever, hangs over them like a constant, restless reminder.
Seven years into their careers as a group, all of them had grown well-versed handling comeback stress and their individual ways of coping with it. It had gotten easier, in a way, not that it was truly any easier, but in that they were more experienced with their limits, more familiar and comfortable with themselves.
But this? This was new, in that nauseating, fearful way that seemed like an unknown object lodged in their chests, uncertain and anxiety-inducing that only something new and unfamiliar could be. Talk of disbandment and military enlistments, the idea that one day soon, they could be something less than seven and whole, gnawed quietly in the silences during practice breaks and the spaces between their heartbeats.
Their faces are pale and uncharacteristically serious as they sit around a conference table, Bang PD-nim at the head with his arms crossed.
Will you decide to renew the contract? This must be a decision that all seven of you agree to.
Jungkook had looked toward Namjoon first, of course, just as everyone else did too, a thoughtless ‘yes’ ready to trip off his tongue. Of course they would. Of course. How could there be any other choice? They were Bangtan, and even if they had to take turns enlisting, they would wait for each other. That’s what family did.
But Namjoon had paused just a second too long, hesitation clear on his face. And like that, like a first whisper of a storm that would shake a town’s confidence, the members’ gazes turned inward one by one, a rattling introspection shaking the room louder than any words could.
“What if—“ Seokjin is the first to break the silence, voicing the fear on everyone’s mind. “What if…we disbanded?” His eyes hold a tempered light to them, not dull but not bright, a weathered practicality to them that he usually covers with his childish humor. “All of us are aging, especially me,” his lips twist in a wry smile, “and one day our band will begin to decline. Think about it—it’s just a matter of when the industry will replace us…what if we stop here, at our peak? So all we leave behind is our highest success.”
Jungkook watches silently, a strange sinking feeling in his gut, as the stony expression on Jimin’s face melts into a sharp hurt. “But hyung, how can you let this go? We haven’t even reached our peak yet. And this is, this is, more than just a band or success. You know that, all of you. I’m happy here,” Jimin beseeches, and Seokjin sits back, conflicted.
“Disbanding doesn’t have to mean that we stop seeing each other, or that we lose our friendship,” Yoongi cuts in quietly. “We would still be fundamentally ourselves, just without the name and the promotions and formalities. We don’t change as people just because we shed a name.”
Hoseok nods, seeming to find reason in Yoongi’s comment, and the strange feeling in Jungkook’s stomach bubbles up his throat.
“It won’t be the same though.”
Everyone turns to focus on him, Namjoon’s gaze patient but surprised as he regards Jungkook. He almost never speaks at meetings like this unless prompted.
Jungkook tries to keep his bearings about him, but even he can tell his words are lightly trembling, uneven and almost a little bit desperate. “It won’t be the same,” he repeats, blinking quickly.
He can already see them growing apart as the years pass, Yoongi caught up in sleepless nights and nonstop producing, Taehyung vanishing for months at a time filming for new dramas, Hoseok busy building a dance career and Namjoon no longer a constant source of warm reliability within Jungkook’s reach, a north star gone missing.
“It won’t be the same,” Jungkook whispers a third time, tongue-tied and inarticulate in the face of the emotions twisting in his chest. Jimin, steady beside him, rubs a comforting hand up and down his back, but all it reminds Jungkook of is that their days are limited, that the reassuring touch of his members is not forever. Taehyung clutches places a hand on Jungkook’s knee beneath the table, a wordless show of solidarity.
Namjoon clears his throat before speaking, eyes shadowed.
“Bang PD-nim, can we have some time to discuss it? We should all get a chance to think about it before deciding.”
“Of course, Namjoon-ah. I hadn’t planned on forcing a decision so quickly either. Take as much time as you need, even through and after this comeback if necessary. As much as I want Bangtan to continue—” Bang PD-nim smiles, unable to hide his pride and fondness “—it comes down to each one of you, and your collective choice. I will not force you to remain, nor will I force you to disband, and I will make sure the staff and other PD’s do not pressure you in one way or another either.”
He stands and claps his hands. “Lunch is on the company, so eat well and stay healthy.”
Taehyung breaks into a grin, the atmosphere lightening as the members stretch and break into more mundane chatter.
Jungkook can’t shake the off-kilter sense of wrong though, and even as Seokjin wraps a scarf around his neck, scolding him for dressing in only a hoodie, he can only smile weakly, throat just a little tight.
ii.
After the meeting, normal comeback preparations take on a tinge of urgency that they haven’t felt since those first few years of debut. The desperation that had stemmed from a fear of failure, from the hunger for recognition and success, has now morphed into the crawling sickness of time running out, of chasing the fleeting happiness of summer.
They all have their ways of dealing with it.
Jungkook returns back home from a late dance practice one night to find muffled voices coming from inside a cracked bedroom door. Namjoon and Yoongi. He pads closer on silent feet, knowing instinctively from the timbre that they’re discussing something serious.
The contract, Jungkook thinks, stomach lurching.
“What Jin-hyung said made sense though, didn’t it?” Yoongi’s disembodied voice points out bluntly. “Wouldn’t it be better to leave behind an untarnished legacy than to slowly watch our career decline?”
Jungkook peers through the crack of the door, catching a glimpse of Namjoon’s profile outlined by the glowing monitor. His lips are turned down.
The silence stretches on uncomfortably long.
“I understand what Jin-hyung was saying, and I definitely haven’t forgotten about the issue of enlistment either, but don’t you also remember when PD-nim asked me solo or Bangtan all that time ago? I didn’t even think twice back then. It’s the same thing now—maybe it’s dangerous to think about it too logically.” Jungkook holds his breath as Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh weighing his shoulders.
“Hyung.” Namjoon sits down on the bed. “What we have right now, even if it’s a little different in the future, it’s still us. And Jungkook was right. If we disband, we’ll always be friends, but it will never be the same again. Don’t you want to hang on just a little longer?”
“Of course I do!” Yoongi whips his chair in a circle, angry. “But it’s not that simple, and you of everyone should know that best as leader. Aish—enough of this for tonight. I need to finish this track.” He jams his headphones on again, clearly done with talking.
Namjoon rises to his feet, and Jungkook jerks away from the door, heart pounding as he hurries back to his room.
Yoongi-hyung wants to disband. Yoongi-hyung wants to disband. Yoongi-hyung—
The thought loops in his head until he’s choking on it, a horrible pressure behind his eyes.
A knock at the door startles him, and panicked, Jungkook pulls his hood up and searches for the nearest thing to occupy himself, to look normal and decidedly not on the edge of a meltdown.
The door swings open just as Jungkook throws himself into his desk chair, hand out to turn on the computer. Namjoon peers in, face drawn, and Jungkook tries not to look too much like a deer in headlights.
“Jungkookie, it’s late. Are you still up?” He squints through the dimness of Jungkook’s cramped little room, landing on Jungkook’s position in front of his desktop.
“Are you serious? You know we have practice early tomorrow morning, right? You should be prioritizing your energy for comeback, not playing games or wasting time on the Internet.” Namjoon’s quiet disappointment hurts more than any show of anger. Jungkook finds his shoulders curling in shame for something he wasn’t even doing. “You know better than to jeopardize your health and sacrifice sleep so close to comeback, especially when so much rests on you.”
Namjoon sighs, already halfway out the door. He misses the hurt that flashes across Jungkook’s face.
“Wait, no, hyung, I wasn’t—"
Namjoon doesn’t even stop to listen.
“Get some sleep, alright? Goodnight, Jungkook.”
The door clicks shut, the light from the hallway vanishing.
Inexplicably, Jungkook finds tears building in his eyes. Stop it. Stop being so goddamn sensitive all the time, he tells himself. Namjoon had been stinging from that conversation with Yoongi. There was so much weight on his shoulders, and it only made sense that he would unintentionally take it out on someone.
It doesn’t mean anything.
But Jungkook can’t help the coldness that clings to him as he curls up in his bed that night. Namjoon always listens to them, an ever-present, patient ear to their concerns. Always. That’s what makes him a wonderful leader, friend, and hyung.
But he couldn’t even spare two seconds to hear Jungkook out.
Jungkook listens to the shallow sound of his breath and closes his eyes, feeling lonelier than ever despite the company of six boys and a full house.
iii.
The next morning finds Jungkook groggy and sleepless, the hazy exhaustion of insomnia sunk deep in his bones.
He had slept fitfully, scared awake repeatedly throughout the night by nightmares that slipped out of his recollection almost immediately but tainted his mouth with a bitter taste of anxiety. He had woken up sometime in the early hours of the morning, unable to fall back asleep, and found himself listening to melancholy songs, harmonies and half-formed lyric ideas scribbled into his notebook.
Jungkook had shaped out some of the contours in the silence of his room, singing softly and feeling the shape of different words
When Jungkook heard the sound of feet hitting wood in the room next to him, he had startled and dove back into bed, still as he listened to a snap of a light switch, a flush of a toilet and the rush of the sink, and then finally the heavy sound of a body slumping back into bed. He winced at the creak of his bed when he had scrambled back too quickly and held still until the quickness of his heart calmed again, feeling guilty without explanation.
Namjoon and Seokjin are sitting at the kitchen table when Jungkook stumbles in, dark circles prominent and last up as always.
He pours himself some cereal, his crunching mouthfuls grinding to a halt when he finally notices the uncharacteristic silence.
“Tae said he heard you up at four in the morning,” Seokjin says, face carefully blank.
Jungkook swallows heavily. He couldn’t sleep last night, but surely it’ll go back to normal? Insomnia has never been a problem for Jungkook in the past.
“Jungkook-ah, we’re not trying to police you, alright?” Seokjin says. “You’re not a child anymore, and we don’t treat you like one. But we have to say something—just as we would to any member—if it’s affecting you like this. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been up so late again, alright? Comeback prep is draining for all of us, and you need to sleep, not play games or whatever you’re doing right now.”
All of a sudden, bitterness floods Jungkook’s chest. Play games or whatever? Is that what they all think he’s doing?
Jungkook stands, nearly tipping his chair over. “If it’s my performance you’re concerned about, don’t worry. I’ll be just fine.”
Seokjin begins to protest, but Namjoon cuts him off. “Jungkook, you know just as well as I do that it’s not about that—”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jungkook dumps his cereal out in the sink, no longer hungry. He feels sick, part of him wanting to take back his harsh words but another part of him desperate to flee before they can see the shake in his hands, the off feeling inside of him that must be broadcasted on his face.
“Jungkook,” Namjoon says, stern. “Watch your tone.”
“Sorry, hyung-nim,” Jungkook replies, but it comes out just a little too flat, awkward and heavy in the air between them. He never addresses them so formally, but right now, as Jungkook drifts in a sense of alienation and uncertainty, the two men sitting at the table feel like strangers.
He hurries out of the room, chest tight, and bumps into Jimin.
“Sorry, hyung,” he mutters again, and Jimin stops mid-yawn, shooting him a confused look.
“What’s up with Jungkookie?” Jungkook hears Jimin ask as he walks faster.
“I don’t know, Jimin.” Seokjin sounds tired. “I don’t know.”
Bullshit. You do know.
It feels as though Jungkook’s bad mood has spread like a disease over the next few days, finding all seven of them short-tempered and stressed.
Hoseok is running them more harshly through practice than he has in years, and Jungkook can’t remember the last time he felt so worn-down, pushed nearly to his limit, by a simple rehearsal.
“Like that! Pah, pah, pah—Jimin, other foot! Jungkook, elbow up!”
When they finally break for lunch, Jungkook is soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. Everyone is sprawled out on the ground resting except for Jimin, who continues to run the music and repeat sections of choreography.
“Food’s here!” One of the managers calls, gesturing the members out of the room.
The prospect of food seems to brighten everyone’s countenance, and soon, only Jimin is left, still practicing.
“Hyung, are you eating?” Jungkook hesitates at the door.
Jimin’s gaze is intense and critical on himself in the mirror, but he pauses a moment to wipe his sweat. Shooting Jungkook a distracted smile, he waves the younger boy off.
“Don’t worry, I’ll come later, okay? Just trying to get this last part down.”
“Okay. Don’t forget to eat,” Jungkook mumbles, but Jimin has already turned the music on again, attention diverted. He slips out of the room, joining the other members around the table of food.
Nearing the end of lunch break, Jungkook realizes that Jimin still hasn’t appeared. He piles some of the leftovers into a heaping plate, making his way back to the practice room.
There, Jimin is still repeating the choreography, but Jungkook can see the tired tremble in his arms and the slight drag to his movements that weren’t there before lunch break.
Jungkook walks over to the music and turns it off.
“C’mon, I got food for you.” Jungkook holds out the plate when Jimin jerks around, surprised from the abrupt silence. He looks pale, more stressed than normal, Jungkook thinks.
“Ah, thanks, Jungkookie, but I think I’m gonna skip today. Not feeling so great.”
Jungkook frowns. “But hyung, you said you’d eat earlier. And you need energy for the rest of practice. You’ll collapse at this rate.”
It’s been years since they’ve had to worry about this, but Jungkook remembers with a start their early debut days when Jimin had only ever eyed his reflection with distaste, burying himself in diets and exercise to cover his self-loathing. Back when he saw his short stature and rounded cheeks as short-comings, when his self-image and eat habits had begun to slip down the hill of dangerously unhealthy.
Is it coming back? Jungkook looks at Jimin hard, trying to find a hint, any sort of giveaway.
From time to time, Jungkook would catch glimpses of those old insecurities surfacing in his hyung’s behavior, remnants from the past that caught Jimin unaware on bad days, but he always bounced back easily. They all dealt with specters of the past, self-doubts that had manifested as their demons in their adolescence, but for the most part, they were beyond that. All of them had grown enough to be secure in their identities now.
Jimin looks away, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes, and Jungkook can’t help the gnawing worry growing in him. He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing Jimin torture himself that way again, starving and weighing, starving and criticizing himself, only ever seeing more calories he could cut, more calories he could burn.
“Please? Hyung, please eat something. There are yogurt drinks too if you—”
“Stop it! I said I didn’t feel well, okay?” Jimin snaps, irritated, and Jungkook’s mouth snaps shut, stunned. “Stop trying to force me to eat. I get it, you mean well, but I know my body best. I know my limits, alright? Just—just leave me alone.” He stalks over to the speakers and resumes the song, clearly done with the conversation.
Jungkook stands still for a moment, stinging.
Jimin’s just stressed, he rationalizes to himself.
Just stressed, just stressed, like everyone. Jungkook pushes the hurt down deep and blows out a breath, leaving the room again.
“Everything okay?” Taehyung lifts an eyebrow at Jungkook, quizzically eyeing the full plate of food he’s still holding.
“All good.” Jungkook replies weakly, mustering up a smile.
He ends up giving the plate of food to a surprised and grateful staff member before he returns back to practice, steps just a little heavier than they were before.
v.
Jungkook finds himself punching in the code to Genius Lab that night, seeking the comfort of Yoongi’s presence and the calming atmosphere of his dim studio as he always does when he’s feeling overwhelmed.
Yoongi doesn’t greet Jungkook when he enters, but that’s normal. A light twitch of his fingers and the minute turn of his face is enough indication that he’s noticed Jungkook’s entrance.
Jungkook lays himself down on Yoongi’s couch, soothed by finally, a sense of normalcy. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift, the clicks of Yoongi’s mouse and the moving notes of his keyboard mixing with Jungkook’s hushed breaths.
At some point, Jungkook feels his eyelids slipping shut, the fatigue of a hard day dragging him under. He floats in and out of disjointed dreams, yet another repeat of many nights devoid of deep, dreamless, restful slumber, and in them, he finds himself chasing after a younger versions of his hyungs—invisible as he reaches out for an unhappy, starving Jimin, unseen as he watches Namjoon breaking under the stress of leadership and hateful criticism, guilt eating him as Seokjin faked cheerfulness through performances where he barely sang any lines.
Jerking awake, sweaty and heartbeat uneven, Jungkook sits up. His hand slips on the leather of the couch. There’s no blanket draped over him as there usually is when he falls asleep, no gentle petting through his hair that Jungkook has come to expect, a normal that stays between them in the walls of this studio.
Yoongi’s attention is still focused on his music, his silhouette backlit by an electronic glow. His face is pinched and hyper-focused, absorbed even as Jungkook pads over, dropping into the stool beside the older boy. He lays his head down in the cradle of his arms, crossed on the corner of the desk, and breathes out. Jungkook waits for the card of fingers through his bangs, or the squeeze on his nape that always, always comes.
A hand gently nudges Jungkook’s hand out of the way, repositioning a piece of equipment.
“Not today, Jungkookie, I’m sorry.” Yoongi hasn’t even looked at him yet, and Jungkook feels his lips tug downwards, a part of him feeling small and ignored.
His hyungs are stressed, Jungkook gets that. But he’s stressed too, can’t they see? To not offer just this little bit of comfort…it leaves Jungkook feeling empty in a way he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. It reminds him of what it felt like to first arrive in Seoul, alone and shy and too insecure to reach out, a feeling that he hadn’t had to face again after Bangtan welcomed him with open arms, their adored maknae.
Jungkook stays silent, struggling to put to words the tangle in his chest, struggling to ask for a companionship that had always come without words before then. What had felt so easy between them now stretches like an unseen layer of ice, cutting Jungkook off from a warmth he so desperately needs.
“Hyung, I…can you—"
“Kook, you’re blocking my right monitor.” Yoongi doesn’t sound angry whatsoever, even a little but apologetic, but nonetheless, Jungkook’s throat tightens. He moves his head, and Yoongi goes right back to clicking, muttering to himself.
“I’ll get out of your way, hyung.” He heaves himself up, knot in his throat growing bigger when Yoongi doesn’t say anything.
Jungkook hears Yoongi’s past words looping in his head as he steps away. Wouldn’t it be better to leave behind an untarnished legacy than to slowly watch our career decline? What if this is Yoongi’s way of saying goodbye? A slow distancing, so it doesn’t hurt as much in the end.
The click of the door behind him unaccompanied by another set of footsteps is unfamiliar, and oh, isn’t it ironic, Jungkook thinks wryly, how it seems like everything feels so horribly new now, so close to a possible ending.
vi.
As comeback draws nearer, the undercurrent of stress and unhappiness in the dorm becomes more comparable to a riptide.
Jungkook still isn’t sleeping well, hesitant to seek comfort in the other members’ beds as he usually would, mindful of their tension and exhaustion. More and more regularly, he finds himself awake in the dead of the night, scratching out lyrics and occasionally recording little clips of ideas before they can slip away. He thinks the other members hear him moving around sometimes, but none of them say anything about it.
Morning comes again, the dawn of a concept photoshoot day, and Jungkook makes a face at himself in the mirror, poking at a stubborn patch of blemishes on his cheek, face puffy and under-eyes dark.
As he expects, the makeup noonas chide him for not taking better care of his skin. “Drink more water, Jungkook-ah,” one of them says. “And don’t stay up so late! You know that not getting enough sleep can make your skin worse.”
Jungkook catches Seokjin’s reprimanding gaze in the mirror and looks away quickly. It’s not his fault he can’t sleep. Trying not to sulk, Jungkook holds still as the makeup artists tilt his face this way and that, tsking and dabbing concealer onto his spots and dark circles.
His makeup ends up taking the longest, and the members seem a bit impatient as they wave him over.
“We’re starting, Jungkookie, get over here!” Taehyung calls. He has an interview later for Hwarang, and Jungkook can practically see the nervous energy vibrating through him, eager for the event awaiting him tonight. Taehyung gives him a boxy grin and latches onto Jungkook as soon as he arrives, simultaneously excited and impatient.
They line up, hands on each other’s shoulders as they do the group photos first, everyone dressed in variations of the same theme. Jungkook is situated between Seokjin and Taehyung, and he presses himself a little closer to Taehyung, still feeling a little caught out by his eldest hyung’s look earlier.
Seokjin would probably have another talk with him later, and then he’d have to bear it all over again, wouldn’t he? Maybe he should just tell him the truth and ask for sleep medication. That’s what a responsible adult would do. But then Jungkook might have to explain why he couldn’t sleep and that was just—just—
“Jungkook-ssi!” Taehyung nudges him hard, and Jungkook finally hears the photoshoot director calling his name, sounding like he’s repeated it quite a few times already.
“Yah, don’t zone out, Kook,” Taehyung whispers, pinching his side. He giggles at the younger boy’s yelp. “Get it together.”
“Take a step to the left, Jungkook.” The director points to the x on the ground, and Jungkook follows obediently. “There, closer to the center. Good.” A couple flashes go off.
The photoshoot continues, and Jungkook manages to get through the group shots well enough without any more blunders.
He wanders off to the dressing room to get changed for the individual shoot and struggles into the sheer clothing they hand him, a bit uncomfortable and decidedly tired. He plops into a chair in the corner, hidden behind a rack of clothes, and lays his head down on the table, yawning. He’ll just shut his eyes for a five minute power nap. He has…what, half an hour until his shoot? He checks the time on his phone and winces at the red battery icon. Power nap, and then he’ll charge his phone. It’ll be fine.
The next thing Jungkook registers is the frantic call of his name in multiple voices, dragging him out of the murky depths of sleep.
“Jungkook-ah! Kookie!” Taehyung’s deep voice passes by the dressing room.
“He can’t have left, right?” One of the managers sounds worried out of his mind. “Why would his cell be off though? Aish, this kid.”
Jungkook shakes himself into alertness, a horrible dread filling his stomach. “What time is it, what time is it,” he mutters to himself. Definitely beyond five minutes, most likely way past his appointed shoot time. Oh god, they’re going to kill him when they find him.
Standing up reluctantly, Jungkook slowly pushes his way out from behind the clothing rack. One of the coordi noonas catches sight of him first, looking like she might cry from relief.
“Jungkook-ah! Were you behind there the whole time?” She pops into the hallway, shouting to the other staff members. “We found him! Don’t worry, he’s safe!”
Turning back to Jungkook, she puts her hands on her hips, her countenance sobering. “Aigoo, you caused a stir there.” Sympathetically patting his shoulder, she whispers, “Kiddo, you’re really in for it now.”
Moments later, all of the members burst into the room, followed by several of their managers and the shoot director.
The horrible feeling returns with a vengeance.
The momentary relief on their faces quickly vanishes as they take in his appearance, cheek sleep-creased and eyes tired.
Namjoon is the first one to step forward. “Jungkook-ah, were you…were you sleeping?”
Jungkook swallows nervously and preemptively bows, apologetic and anxious in turns. “Hyung, director-nim, I’m really sorry. I just—I fell asleep over there…” He trails off at the roomful of increasingly stormy expressions, arm lowering from pointing at the corner.
Seokjin is the first to burst. “You told me that—that whatever it is you’re doing right now wouldn’t affect your performance, but look at what just happened! We were worried, and you twisted it into something else. Fine! You want to make it about performance? We can make it about performance.” His expression is stony, furious. “You held up the entire schedule just to take a fucking nap. We’ve been looking for you for hours while you were sleeping, and now shooting will have to be extended just because of your irresponsibility. We don’t have time for this.”
Seokjin clenches his fists, visibly upset. “We don’t have time for this!” He exclaims again, and he sounds so, so tired and frustrated. Stressed beyond words. “We don’t have time for stupid mistakes when there’s this much pressure on us to make a bigger, better comeback every single time. And our pre-comeback schedule is packed to hell—we have to meet with collab artists and sponsors, finish the MV shooting, film for every goddamn program we’re running, and—and this wouldn’t have happened if you just slept when you were supposed to!”
He gestures at the entire room of staff, all standing silently, watching. Jungkook burns with humiliation. No one calls Seokjin out for cursing.
“Everyone here will have to work overtime to get us back onto schedule. Do you understand?” Seokjin holds his gaze accusingly. Jungkook, desperate, scans the other members’ faces, hoping for some consolation, but everyone is expressionless, lips pressed thin.
“Do you understand?” Seokjin repeats louder, and it feels like his birthday prank all over again, when the manager had criticized him to the point of tears. But this isn’t a filmed prank.
“I understand,” Jungkook whispers, head down. He hopes they don’t see the way he’s struggling to hold his sobs in.
One of the managers sighs. “Taehyung might end up missing his drama interview because of you, Jungkook. He was set to shoot after you, but even if we squeeze him in right now, he’ll still be very late.” He checks his watch. “Late enough to not warrant going anymore. He might arrive after it ends if there’s traffic.”
Jungkook risks a glance at his youngest hyung and feels guilt sluice through him at the poorly concealed disappointment on Taehyung’s face.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says again, but Taehyung’s expression shuts down. He glares at Jungkook, none of his characteristic warmth to be seen.
“Alright, back to shooting. We’re wasting time.” The shoot director gestures for everyone to break up. “Let’s do Taehyung quick right now, and maybe one of the managers can call in to the interview and see if they can delay it a little.”
Taehyung checks his shoulder into Jungkook’s when he leaves the room, and Jungkook stumbles, shocked. None of the members had ever resorted to anything physical as retaliation before, the harshest reprimand only a verbal admonishment. And Taehyung especially, who had been so cheerful only a handful of hours ago…
The worst part is that everyone clearly saw it, but no one says a word, averting their gazes as they part around Jungkook. Not even Hoseok or Jimin, always ready to comfort and smile, give him a second glance.
Jungkook feels cold, cold, cold.
Later, one of the make-up noonas fixes his smudged makeup, wiping his tears away.
“Chin up, Jungkookie,” she whispers. “We all make mistakes.”
vii.
Taehyung ends up missing the interview despite their managers’ best efforts, and the dorm grows frigid and tense, a constant chill between Jungkook and the rest of the members any time the group comes together.
A couple days go by, Jungkook giving his full attention and energy to every schedule despite the unabating exhaustion, before Namjoon pulls him aside.
“You need to resolve whatever is going on between you and Taehyung,” Namjoon says, and his chin juts out in that way it always does when he’s serious about something. “It’s affecting team dynamics. Apologize, talk it out, whatever it is. You have until tomorrow, got it?” He sounds tired and stressed, attention already slipping off to his next task. Jungkook feels invisible.
Jungkook nods silently, heart beating out an anxious rhythm in his chest. Tomorrow. He has until tomorrow. He has one day to fix this.
That night, Jungkook makes a cup of tea for Taehyung, hoping he can get the older boy to accept his apology. Maybe he can even confide in Taehyung and tell him about his insomnia, unburden his worries about disbandment. Things will go back to normal.
Just about to leave the kitchen, Jungkook he hears someone enter, footsteps pitter-pattering toward the fridge. He turns carefully, mindful of the mugful of hot liquid in his hand, to see Taehyung scratching his jaw tiredly.
“Oh, hi, hyung,” Jungkook says, suddenly feeling awkward. “I was—um, I was looking for you actually. I made a cup of tea for you.”
He holds up the Tata mug he had poured the tea into, hoping it would brighten Taehyung’s mood.
“Yeah, right.” Taehyung snorts acerbically. “Stop making excuses. If you wanted to use my mug that bad, you should’ve just said.”
“Tae-hyung, please, it’s not an excuse,” Jungkook tries again, “Seriously!” Taehyung’s jaw stays clenched, and Jungkook is starting to get desperate. “Seriously! Why won’t you believe me? I was going to apologize. Look, I made your favorite tea—”
“Apologies don’t change anything!” Taehyung yells, and the sudden volume is like a slap to the face. “It doesn’t change the fact that you made me miss that interview, when you knew how much it meant to me! And your dumb apologies and excuses don’t change the fact that I still hear you up every night, probably gaming or something stupid, even after you ruined everything from falling asleep.”
Taehyung pushes himself into Jungkook’s space. “You’ve done absolutely nothing to fix your behavior, and you expect me to forgive you?” He scoffs derisively. “I’m tired of your bullshit. Golden maknae, my ass,” he mutters, shoving Jungkook out of his way.
He vanishes down the hallway, too fast to see how the scalding tea sloshes out of the mug and splashes over Jungkook’s arms.
Jungkook flinches and gasps in pain, nearly dropping the cup on the ground, and accidentally spills more on himself.
“Ah, ah—” Quickly shaking off the burning water, Jungkook hurries to set the mug down on a table and run cold water over his burns.
He watches the clear rivulets drip down his arm, but the damage is already done—angry patches of red begin to form on his skin.
Jungkook bites his lip, trying to hold in the tears, but they run down his face uncontrollably. He’s so tired. Tired to his bones with fatigue, but also tired of the constant blame and tension and assumptions they keep making about him. Tired of feeling anxious and guilty and invisible unless he’s being reprimanded.
Golden maknae, my ass.
Maybe they should disband. The thought tears at Jungkook like hole ripped out of his heart. Or at the very least, maybe Jungkook should leave. They clearly don’t want him there anymore, and Jungkook can’t remember the last time he felt so isolated and despised, backs turned to him in every direction he looked. If he acts out, they yell at him. If he tries to take care of them, they get annoyed. If he apologizes, they don’t hear him.
He feels trapped and suffocated, worn thin to his limits.
Jungkook shuts off the water and pulls his sleeve down, wiping at his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he reigns himself in.
Tomorrow is a new day, Jungkook thinks. Tomorrow is a new day, so he will calm down, try again. Perhaps he’ll pull through the comeback and take a rest after promotions, go back to Busan and talk to his parents.
A sudden bout of homesickness slams into him. He thinks of the affection in his parents and brother’s eyes, the unconditional love and brightness that he knows will always be waiting for him at home. And he had been so sure that he had found a second home, another form of unconditional love with his hyungs, but everything feels so fragile right now, already half-way to falling apart.
Jungkook heaves a deep sigh and pads back to his room, arm prickling, eyes prickling.
viii.
Jungkook wears a long sleeve shirt to dance practice the next day.
He winces as he heaves himself onto the van, the fabric chafing against the blistering skin. Jungkook couldn’t find the bandages or ointment and had resigned himself to hiding the burn. Usually he goes straight to Seokjin with any kind of injury and waits like while the older boy reappears with the first aid kit, fussing and concerned, but that no longer seemed like an option after what had happened.
Just before practice starts, Namjoon approaches him discreetly.
“Did you fix things with Taehyung?” He gives Jungkook an expectant look.
Jungkook fumbles, nervous. “I, uh, hyung, I tried, but not yet. Taehyung-hyung wouldn’t—”
Disappointment fills Namjoon’s face, and he cuts the maknae off. “I told you until today, didn’t I? Don’t try to place the blame on Taehyung when you’re in the wrong, Jungkook. You’re better than that.”
“No! I wasn’t trying to blame him! I was just saying that he didn’t hear me ou—”
“Everything okay?” The dance instructor approaches them, and Jungkook swallows his words. He had been too loud, and now all the members were looking in his direction, most likely having overheard some of their conversation.
They take one look at Namjoon’s flat expression and seem to simultaneously come to the conclusion that Jungkook has done something wrong, yet again. Jungkook clenches his fists, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his palm. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Nothing’s wrong, just having a conversation. We’re ready to start.” Namjoon waves the dance director off, giving Jungkook a pointed look. Today, he mouths.
Two hours into practice, Hoseok takes a look at Jungkook’s beleaguered appearance and sighs. Jungkook is panting in exhaustion, shirt soaked through with sweat. His expression is strangely pained for some reason.
“Jungkook-ah, you should change into short sleeves or sleeveless,” he comments. “You’re going to overheat. I brought a change of clothes you can use.” Hoseok digs out an extra tshirt from his rehearsal bag and hands it to Jungkook, but the maknae presses it back, shaking his head.
Jungkook fiddles with his sleeves, pulling them down. “It’s okay, hyung, don’t worry about me. I’m fine with what I’m wearing right now.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes, patience worn thin. “Don’t be stubborn. You’re literally sweating through your shirt. Just change already, I don’t get why you keep refusing. You’re going to end up collapsing.”
He reaches for the hem of Jungkook’s shirt, as though the yank the shirt off, but panicked, Jungkook shoves Hoseok’s hands away. He can’t let his hyung see the burns. Misjudging his strength, Jungkook pushes a little harder than he had intended to, and Hoseok gives a surprised yelp, stumbling backwards. He trips over a cord on the ground and lands hard on his rear.
Suddenly, all eyes are on them, the room quiet.
Jungkook’s eyes widen, panic welling up even faster now at Hoseok’s disbelieving look. He hovers frantically, uncertain. “I—I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, Hoseok-hyung—”
“Is this your petty way of rebelling, Jungkook?”
Hoseok’s voice is quiet and low. Calmly furious in the way that chills everyone to the bone. He climbs slowly to his feet and takes a step forward. Jungkook has never seen his sunshiny hyung so angry before, his eyes so icy and menacing.
“Are you so unhappy with our group that you’ve resorted to this kind of behavior? You’re lucky I wasn’t injured just now, or our comeback would have been jeopardized.” His voice slowly rises, and Jungkook flinches. Hoseok’s characteristic laugh and cheerful countenance is nowhere to be found.
“First, you refuse to sleep and disregard how your performance impacts the group. Then you sleep through your concept shoot and cost Taehyung his interview. Now, you’re arguing with Namjoon and pushing people when you don’t feel like listening?”
Hoseok looks one hair away from losing his mind. “We’ve all had enough of this! We’ve had enough of you—”
Jungkook can’t hold it in anymore, something tense in him that has been pulling tighter and tighter over the past weeks finally snapping. Sobs tear out of his throat without his permission, and Hoseok cuts off, shocked.
“T-that’s not what h-happened!” Jungkook can barely talk between his gasping breaths. His head feels hazy, clouded with a mix of exhaustion, frustration, and the kind of roiling hysteria that only comes with a breakdown.
“I—I can’t even sleep b-because I c-can’t stop thinking about how some of you want to dis—” Jungkook chokes on the word, “disband, b-but all of you just assume t-that I’m playing games! And all you care about is the comeback, the comeback, and I get it—I’m know how important it is too—but what happened to being a t-team? I don’t want to disband, but I miss the Bangtan we had before.”
Jungkook feels woozy from crying so hard, and through his blurred vision, he sees his hyungs’ stricken faces, eyes wide and horrified.
“A-and I tried! I tried t-to say—to say sorry to Taehyung, because I really am! I didn’t mean to sleep, and I know how much I messed up, but he didn’t even listen to me.” Jungkook rips his sleeve up, and Hoseok gasps, visibly queasy at the ruined skin on Jungkook’s arms. “A-and I’m sorry for pushing you, I didn’t mean to, but I had to wear long sleeves—”
Taehyung steps forward, hesitant, fingers hovering over Jungkook’s arm. “Jungkook-ah, did I…did I do that? From the tea?”
Jungkook yanks his hand away, eyes glittering with tears. “Don—don’t try and pretend you care now!”
Everyone looks ashamed, like a cold splash of water has woken them up. They seem to all be replaying memories in their heads, perhaps remembering all the times they had snapped or brushed Jungkook off callously, too lost in their own world to notice his hurt.
“Maybe I should leave.” The words rush out of him, and room seems to collectively suck in a sharp breath.
“Jungkook-ah, no,” Seokjin says, panicked.
“I-if I’m such a b-burden, maybe you’d all be better off without me. ‘Golden maknae, my ass,’ right?” He smiles humorlessly at Taehyung, and the older boy stands frozen, remembering his own words, now thrown back at him.
“If I leave first, maybe it won’t hurt as much when you all decide to disband,” Jungkook whispers.
“Wait, Jungkook—"
He runs.
ix.
They run after him, of course they do, but Jungkook runs fast, and that split second of hesitation is enough to lose him.
Namjoon heaves a sigh, pacing around dorm living room. It feels so empty now without the maknae’s presence.
The practice room had been swarmed with managers and staff after Jungkook had vanished, everyone grilling the members and the dance instructor on what had happened.
Jungkook had taken his phone, but he had turned his location off, and all calls were going straight to voicemail. Sejin had looked ready to pull his hair out, worried out of his mind.
“I was too harsh on him,” Jimin had mumbled, head in his hands. My fault, he thinks, a piece of him withering when he recalls how he had snapped at Jungkook for offering him food, for caring.
“We were all too harsh on him.” Namjoon had dropped down beside Jimin, mouth pulled thin. He had rubbed a hand over Jimin’s tense shoulder. “Believe me, it’s weighing heavily on me too. You know? The fact that I missed so many signs and brushed him off, over and over. I didn’t realize how much this comeback and the pressure was affecting us until now. I feel horrible that it came to this, but it’s like a wake-up call, isn’t it? It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve looked at you all properly, in the present.”
Jimin had sat quietly, absorbing Namjoon’s rambling wisdom. It did feel like it had been a while. He felt like he had woken up from a fever dream and taken a step back, finally, to see what he—what they had all—become. The stress of success had wrapped like a set of blinders around their eyes, pushing them apart even as they rushed toward the same goal.
And now…now Jungkook was gone.
Management had sent them back to the dorms after that, promising that they would continue looking for Jungkook. They left reluctantly, Taehyung with his head leaning against the window on the slow ride home.
Now, they’re all gathered in the living room, sprawled out in various positions across the couches and floor.
“What if…what if Jungkook really doesn’t come back?” Taehyung’s voice wobbles, and his eyes betray a crushing guilt that makes Yoongi’s chest hurt. He pulls the younger boy close, as much for his own comfort as for Taehyung.
“He’ll come back. He has to,” Yoongi says.
Yoongi’s words don’t seem to sooth anyone, and the gaping absence of Jungkook’s bright laughter and scrunched smiles seems to tear wider and wider.
They fall asleep uneasily that night, curled around each other, necks cricked and limbs tangled, searching for reassurance in touch.
Yoongi keeps jerking awake, haunted by the image of Jungkook running away, always too far to reach. He hears a voice in his dreams, tinged with a Busan accent and sounding so hurt and lost.
If I leave first, maybe it won’t hurt as much when you all decide to disband.
He finds his heart racing, palms clammy for the fourth time that night and wonders if this is what Jungkook had suffered through every night.
“Can’t sleep, hyung?” Jimin whispers, eyes puffy, and Yoongi flinches, surprised.
He lets his heart slow for a moment before responding, throat gravelly. “Yeah. Dreams.”
Namjoon’s thigh shifts under Yoongi’s head, and Seokjin grunts. “Me too,” someone whispers.
“We’re—we’re not disbanding, are we?” Seokjin asks, and despite being the eldest, he feels so young now. His earlier words from the conference about leaving behind an untarnished legacy seem so far away. What does success mean if he can’t have the people he loves beside him?
Jimin tenses, but Namjoon places a hand on his knee, a silent don’t worry. “No,” he murmurs. “It wouldn’t feel right. Honestly, this just showed us that we’re not ready to disband yet. But our decision has to be unanimous. Yoongi?”
Yoongi huffs, burying his face in Taehyung’s hair. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make me say it.”
Hoseok raises an eyebrow at him, and Yoongi relents. “Fine, I don’t want to disband either. There, happy?”
“What Yoongi said,” Hoseok echoes, cracking a weak smile.
“Taehyung and I never wanted to disband in the first place,” Jimin chimes in. “And Jungkook…”
Their hearts grow a little heavier.
“Now we wait for Jungkook.”
x.
Junghyun is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and thinking about heading to bed when he hears the knock at the front door.
He rises halfway warily, brows furrowed. “Who is it?” Junghyun calls. No one ever visits at this hour.
The knocks get louder, an almost frantic edge to them.
“Hyung, it’s me, please, let me in.”
Junghyun’s eyes widen, and he shoots out of his chair. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Jungkook-ah!” He rips the door open, and his little brother stands before him, half a head taller than when he had last seen him. It had been months, hadn’t it? Maybe even more than a year.
“What are you doing in Busan? Did your group have a promotion down here? Aish, you didn’t even warn me ahead of time you’d be visiting—” Junghyun flicks on the porch light and abruptly cuts off, finally getting a good look at Jungkook’s face.
His surprised elation melts away. “Jungkookie, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Junghyun opens his arms, and without hesitation, Jungkook throws himself into his brother’s embrace, bursting into tears.
“Aigoo,” he murmurs, pulling Jungkook into the house. He pets his little brother’s hair gently and holds him close, letting him cry into his chest. “Shh, it’s okay, hyung’s here. Whatever happened, I’m here for you.”
He rocks Jungkook back and forth, savoring the solid realness of his brother again. A wave of nostalgia and sadness crashes over him. It had been so long since he had been able to hug his brother, here and breathing, in the flesh. Sometimes, it seemed so easy to feel as though Jungkook wasn’t missing at all, what with his constant appearances on national news and every social media outlet imaginable, but this, this is different. It feels like a piece of Junghyun’s heart has come home.
Junghyun drags them onto the couch, letting Jungkook cry himself dry. He knows from experience that it takes time for Jungkook to open up, to untangle the mess in his head and chest before he can let his thoughts out into the world.
Hours later, Junghyun blinks drowsily, Jungkook a warm weight on his chest, breathing finally even.
“Ready to talk, Kookie?” He asks, gently chucking the younger boy under the chin.
Jungkook nods, nuzzling his head stubbornly into Junghyun’s chest, and the older boy laughs quietly. He ruffles Jungkook’s hair—so much longer now, he notices—affectionately.
“Hyungs hate me now,” Jungkook mumbles into Junghyun’s shirt.
He’s wholly unprepared for Junghyun to begin laughing riotously.
“Is this really what it’s about?” Junghyun pulls Jungkook up by the cheeks, squishing his face between his palms. It makes Jungkook look like he’s pouting. Adorable idiot, Junghyun thinks with no shortage of fond amusement.
“Jungkookie, your hyungs look at you like you hung the stars and moon. You could probably kill someone and ask them to hide the body, and they’d bend over backward to help. Aish, you really don’t understand how much they love you, do you?”
Junghyun had been over at the dorms several times throughout the years, and he had only seen their fierce protectiveness of Jungkook grow, a mixture of parent-like doting, sibling-like squabbling, and an obvious, deep love reflected in every action and touch. It made Junghyun ache in a happy, bittersweet kind of way, knowing that he had to share his little brother with these six other boys now, but it also put him at peace, knowing that the love they felt for Jungkook and each other was as genuine as anything he and Jungkook had shared.
There was just absolutely no way they hated Jungkook. Stress, arguments, they were inevitable, but Junghyun can’t imagine them every truly turning their backs on Jungkook. Surely things had been blown out of proportion.
“What happened? Tell hyung more, other than this nonsense.”
Jungkook protests indignantly. “It’s true though, hyung! They’ve been…they’ve been talking about disbandment.” Jungkook wilts. “I couldn’t sleep after that, and I kept messing up and I fell asleep and then everyone got mad because I ruined everything but they wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain or apologiz—”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, breathe.”
Jungkook sucks in a breath obediently, and Junghyun traces the deep circles under his little brother’s eyes, smiling sadly.
“You look so tired. Comeback prep is really taking a toll on you, isn’t it? And this disbandment news…your contract’s set to expire this year, isn’t it?”
Jungkook nods mutely, and Junghyun thumbs over his face, smoothing away a wrinkle in his brow.
“Your hyungs must also be feeling the stress and pressure too. Maybe it doesn’t excuse whatever happened between you guys, but stress brings out the worst in people. Signing or not signing another contract is a huge decision for everyone to make, and on top of your insane schedules, I can only imagine that if the others have gone a step too far, they didn’t really mean to hurt you.”
“Fame really is a double edged sword, isn’t it, Kookie?” Junghyun pushes Jungkook’s over-long bangs out of his eyes. “You’ve really gone through so much. I’m so proud of you,” he whispers fiercely, hugging him close.
Jungkook hungs back, eyes stinging. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, bun.” He breathes quietly for a moment. “But you have to go back, you know that right?”
“But I—”
Junghyun taps Jungkook over his chest. “Jungkook-ah, I know just as well as you do that as much as you’ve missed me, you’re already missing your hyungs even more. Am I wrong?”
Jungkook doesn’t deny it.
“No matter what happened, trust me when I say that they love you as much as you love them. They’re practically your second family by now.”
“But…but what if they decide to disband?”
“If that really happens, you’ll just have to accept it, Kookie. Your Yoongi-hyung said something similar in an interview, and it brought me a sense of peace the way he worded it. He said something along the lines of life is a series of ups and downs, and while Bangtan is most certainly one of the highlights, it’s only one of many in a series of peaks and troughs in your life. There’s always more to come. Maybe not the same ever again, but it doesn’t have to be the same for you to be just as happy, maybe even more. Every kind of happiness is a little different, and even though change is scary, it doesn’t have to be bad.”
And there, breathing in the salty night air of Busan, cheeks still stiff with dried tears, Jungkook listens and feels a bit of peace seep into him. It clicks, like he had been looking backward all this time, and someone had finally turned his head in the right direction.
“For what it’s worth though, I don’t think it’s time to disband yet. Call it a hunch or whatever you’d like, but I have a feeling your hyungs will come around.” Junghyun can already see it in his head: the six other members frantic and worried about Jungkook—who, by the look of it, had impulsively run off without security or management, hopping on the first train to Busan. He imagines Jungkook’s disappearance as a wake-up call for them, perhaps the push they needed to finally have an open conversation and wake up from the blinding haze of doubt and stress.
Jungkook lays his head on Junghyun’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm beneath his ear, soothed.
“Sleep on it, alright? A good night’s sleep always sets you straight. We’ll take it a day at a time.” Junghyun tickles his little brother under the chin just to see him smile.
Jungkook closes his eyes, faking a loud snore, and Junghyun laughs. “Yah, don’t sleep on me! That’s not what I meant!”
Jungkook drifts off to the lull of crashing waves and briny ocean air that night, slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep that he hasn’t been able to enjoy in weeks.
xi.
Early the next morning, Jungkook stands at the Busan train station again, blinking at the golden sunshine that drips over the coast, like the sun is waking up with him too, still lazy and drowsy.
Junghyun had woken him up that morning for a homecooked breakfast, and as soon as Jungkook had sat himself down in one of the rickety wooden dining table chairs, Junghyun had taken a single look at his face and said wistfully, “You’re going back, aren’t you?”
Jungkook rubs his eyes nodding. He had thought about what Junghyun had said, and morning had woken him with a new perspective and peacefulness.
“At least let me see you off, alright?” Junghyun says, loading Jungkook’s plate up high.
Jungkook had dug in with a smile, and now, with Junghyun waving at him from the platform, Jungkook leaves for Seoul, heart much lighter than when he had arrived.
When he arrives at the dorm, Jungkook takes a deep breath, just a passing hesitation before he steels himself and opens the door.
There is no immediate outcry, and Jungkook flushes, laughing a little at himself for somehow expecting that. He toes off his shoes, padding into the living room, slowing to a stop when he sees the dogpile on the couches, illuminated by slats of weak morning sunshine through the blinds—his six hyungs, haphazardly laying on top and around each other, faces swollen and hands tight, gripping other hands, shirts, even Jimin’s head stuck somewhere near Taehyung’s bottom.
Jungkook huffs a quiet giggle and snaps a quick picture for blackmail.
In the end, Hoseok is the first to wake up, brow furrowing at the slight noise of the shutter going off. He groans and squints, yelping when he sees Jungkook’s figure in the doorway.
“Ah! You scared the shit out of me, Jungkoo—” Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, Jungkook-ah! You’re back!”
His shout wakes everyone else, and soon enough, everyone is jerking awake, a mixture of shock, relief, and guilt passing over their faces.
“Oof—” Jungkook grunts in surprise as Taehyung throws himself at Jungkook, distress painted clearly in the lines of his face.
“I’m sorry!” Taehyung bursts out. “For the things I said an-and the burn.” His eyes are imploring, teary and regretful. “I didn’t mean any of it, especially the tea. I really didn’t know, Jungkookie, or I would have apologized right there and then. I’m so, so sorry.”
They all clamor to apologize, and Jungkook finds himself piled under his hyungs, getting the lights squeezed out of him.
Jungkook giggles, and then he starts laughing.
“What? What’s so funny? Did I miss something?” Yoongi asks.
“You miss everything,” Seokjin teases, flicking Yoongi in the forehead lightly.
“No, it’s just—I missed this.” Jungkook says, wrapping his arms around someone’s shoulders. They’ve become so tangled that he can’t tell who it is anymore.
“We’ve been distant for a while, haven’t we?” Namjoon muses quietly. “And Jungkook-ah, we really are sorry. I think I speak on behalf of everyone—if this isn’t enough—” he laughs wryly at the pile of limbs they’re all stuck in, “when I say that we really didn’t mean for things to go so far. I’m not going to excuse everything on stress, because we need to take responsibility for what we did and said, but trust me I say that we all feel awful for taking things out on you and being so unfairly harsh, Jungkookie.”
Namjoon takes a deep breath. “And…and Jungkook, we decided not to disband while you were away. It’s up to you…especially after everything that happened, but we hope you stay too. Bangtan isn’t Bangtan without you.”
There’s a moment of anxious silence as they wait for Jungkook’s response.
Jungkook buries his face into a broad shoulder—Seokjin, without a doubt—and breathes in the familiar smell of his favorite detergent, smiling. Junghyun was right. He really did have nothing to worry about.
“Of course I’m staying, are you all crazy?” The members all seem to deflate after hearing that, a weight lifting off their shoulders, and he laughs when Seokjin mutters something about kids these days.
“I blew some things out of proportion in my own head too. Don’t be too hard on yourselves,” Jungkook murmurs.
“We won’t let it happen again,” Hoseok says seriously. His eyes are still shadowed and guilty, and it sends a pang through Jungkook to see his hyungs still so burdened by what happened.
“So…to make it up to me…” Everyone leans forward eagerly, ready to grant any request. Jimin is already nodding. “How about treating me to a month of lamb skewers and calling me hyung-nim?” Jungkook grins.
“Yah! Jeon Jungkook, you brat,” Jimin laughs, but all at once, his hyungs are smiling, the atmosphere bright again in a way Jungkook has always remembered.
Jimin wrestles a giggling Jungkook to the ground, Yoongi whispering that if Jungkook gets lamb skewers, he has to share, and like that, Jungkook falls back into their embrace, warm and secure once again in the feeling of home.