Chapter Text
Jungkook had been sat on a stool during his last concert, and under strict orders not to move that Taehyung had let him break as soon as everyone else was far away enough for him to snake an arm up around his shoulders and support Jungkook as he walked the stage for the last time.
He wasn’t supposed to say anything, or at least management didn’t want him to. They were already preparing a statement for him so as to not let even a drop of stress fall on his shoulders, but Jungkook couldn’t help but think it was a little unfair. It was him that was dying, after all, he was allowed to speak about it if he wanted to. Army deserved to know.
Jimin was about to storm over to the youngest pair and demand Jungkook sit back down, for how he was dangerously swaying on his feet, but whatever look Taehyung shot him had him turning around and muttering something to the staff gathered side-stage. Jungkook didn’t look, didn’t care, as he stared at the thousands of fans gathered just to see them, to hear their songs, their stories. It wouldn’t do to take that away from them, with no warning either.
Namjoon sensed something was off when the beginning notes of Anpanman were delayed. He scanned the stage, and froze, seeing Jungkook practically hanging off of Taehyung as they came closer to the fans, screams also getting louder. He was half-way there when Jungkook raised the mic to his lips, and as one, the fans fell silent.
“Hi,” Was the only thing he was able to get out until the rest was drowned out by screams. Even from half a stage away, Namjoon could see the smile it brought to his face. “I just wanted to say thank you, thank you so much for coming tonight, and supporting us through it all. Those that have been there from the beginning, and those that haven’t, we love you, I love you, and I will always be eternally grateful for this amazing life experience, for you. We couldn’t have asked for better fans-“ Screams, again, “Thank you.”
Jungkook lowered the mic, aware that his voice was getting more choked up by the second. He didn’t know how much he was allowed to say, and it didn’t feel right to just admit it outright – hey, so, I’ll be dead in a couple of months!
The army bombs were blinding. Taehyung had a split second to gage that Jungkook was moments away from breaking down in tears. He tugged the younger into his chest, hiding him away from the camera that he knew was broadcasting the two of them onto the huge screens strategically placed around them.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi yelled in Taehyung’s ear above the screams. Taehyung shot him a look.
“I can’t stop him from speaking if he wants to!”
“So you enabled him?” Yoongi was furious. Not only was his youngest currently shaking in front of thousands of fans, but they’d get hell from management.
But Taehyung was furious too. “It’s his decision if he wants to say something. He has a right to say goodbye.”
Yoongi couldn’t argue with that. He turned away sharply as Anpanman finally played. Taehyung missed the beginning of the choreography as he helped Jungkook back onto the stool, making sure the youngest gave him a watery smile before he left with one last parting squeeze to his hand.
“I can’t believe you three!” Yoongi scolded. Jungkook ran a wet wipe over his face, smearing the eyeliner tiredly. The concert took more out of him that he thought, and as much as he wanted to focus on Yoongi, he was currently standing there with two heads and it was very distracting.
“He could have fainted, he could have had a seizure, he could have-“
“Hyung,” Namjoon grabbed Yoongi’s forearm, “He just wanted to say goodbye.”
Yoongi knew that. Of course he did. But Jungkook, his Jungkook, was sitting on the couch looking frailer and weaker than ever, and it was all slowly starting to become reality.
“Come on then, let’s get you home.” Yoongi lifted one of Jungkook’s arms to hook around his neck, Hoseok supporting him from the other side. Jungkook, too exhausted to say anything at this point, allowed them to carry him through the halls and into the already waiting car.
“I told you a concert was a bad idea,” Jin muttered, brushing the bangs off Jungkook’s sleeping face. He looked pale, paler than before, a faint sheen of sweat coating his brow.
“Please, we couldn’t have talked him out of it if we tried,” Yoongi murmured, voice equally quiet, “Stubborn brat.”
The car hit a bump, and Jungkook groaned, head lulling to the side to rest on Jimin’s shoulder. His lips were parted as he breathed deeply, eyes moving under his eyelids, mind far off in a dream.
“At least he said goodbye to Army now, even if indirectly.” Namjoon was staring out the window. He didn’t want to see his maknae like this. It hurt, to see him grow weaker by the day, and he knew it was unfair to think so, but he missed the strong boy that could throw them around as if they were nothing.
“What do you think’ll happen to Army? After they find out Kookie… won’t be in the band anymore?” Taehyung spoke up, and Hoseok pulled him into a gentle hug, lips pressing to the crown of his head briefly.
Namjoon sighed. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, “I don’t know if there’s gonna be a point anymore.”
Yoongi’s furrowed expression softened. He grasped one of Namjoon’s hands, the angle awkward as their hands hung between them. They used to split up into two cars. They rode in a van now. “There’s always a point, Joonie.”
“The majority of fans were Jungkook’s fans,” Namjoon said, but he wasn’t bitter. There had always been a twinge of pride there, when thinking about just how successful and talented his youngest lover was. “They’ll all leave if Kookie’s not in the band anymore.”
“Some will stay.” Yoongi’s voice was softer than they had ever heard it. A lonely tear trickled down his cheek, and he didn’t bother to wipe it. “BTS is a concept, it’s so much larger than the seven of us.”
“That’s what Bang-PD said,” Namjoon laughed quietly and sniffled. “He doesn’t want us to disband.”
“I don’t know.” Jimin shifted his attention away from humming gently in Jungkook’s ear. “I don’t want to be on stage if he’s not there.”
“We signed a contract, Jiminie, I don’t know if we’ll have a choice.” Yoongi smiled sadly.
“But… singing the songs we made together, knowing that he can’t sing them…”
“Don’t think about it now,” Jin reached over Jungkook to cup his cheek. The seatbelt pressed into his chest uncomfortably. “He’s still right here.”
“Yeah.” Jimin breathed, pressing a wet kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. The youngest squirmed in his seat, groaning gently.
They waited until he settled back with a content sigh for Yoongi to speak. “He’s getting more tired by the day.”
“His appetite’s down.” Jin added sadly.
“That’s understandable, he’s not moving around as much.” Namjoon, instinctively, turned to look at Jungkook. He looked so peaceful, so normal, that if he didn’t know better he’d say it was just another post-concert exhaustion-fuelled nap.
“His headaches are worse, too. He asked for painkillers and I just… I know he can’t take any but I wanted to make it stop for him. Fuck.” Hoseok rarely swore, and rarer still to be caught doing so in front of their younger boyfriends.
“I don’t know how to help him.” Jimin admitted. “I want to, but… he’s in so much pain and it’s only going to get worse, and-“
“Hey, shh,” Hoseok, one arm around Taehyung, now reached over to pet at Jimin’s knee when he saw the youngest tugging Jungkook closer to him. He breathed in a nose-full of his hair, the sweet coconut shampoo mixed with sweat dulling his senses for a minute. “It’s okay, yeah? We just have to be there for him, love him twice as hard and… take his mind off everything, I guess. I don’t want him thinking about all this stuff.”
“I can’t believe Jungkookie’s dying,” Taehyung exhaled. They hadn’t said it out loud, not as bluntly, and now that it was out there, palpable and noticeable, it was so much worse. Hoseok leaned away to swat his head in reprimand, but what was he scolding him for? The truth? They were all constantly pretending that everything was okay when it was so far from being okay that they were all practically falling apart. They were all lying to themselves, unwilling to admit the truth.
“I don’t want him to die, hyung.” Jimin whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks now and disappearing in Jungkook’s mop of black hair. He met Jin’s eye over his head. “Please, hyung, I don’t want him to leave.”
And what was Jin supposed to do? He closed his eyes for a second, willing the tears away, squeezing Jimin’s hand in silent comfort. He wished he could have done more.
And above all the sadness, Jin couldn’t help but feel so angry. At the world, at Jungkook, at himself. Why did it have to be them? Why was such a sweet boy who had done no wrong in his lifetime, was being punished in such a cruel and twisted way? Why did the worst things happen to the best people?
Why did it have to be them?
…
“What, again?” Jimin groaned, falling into Hoseok’s lap in an overly dramatic gesture, hands coming to cover his eyes in exasperation.
“Yes, again.” Jungkook tried to hold a pout, but his smile overpowered its effect. “It’s the best movie of all time.”
“We’ve seen it twice this week already,” Jimin whined loudly.
“You fell asleep the first time, so it doesn’t count.” Jungkook crossed his arms, leaning further into Namjoon’s chest. The elder rewarded him with a gentle scrape to his nape, kissing his cheek in the process.
“It was after the concert, I was tired, but the movie played so it counts.”
Jungkook’s pout deepened. “Does not.”
“Does too.”
“Does not.”
“Does too.”
“Did you pick a movie yet?” Jin was balancing three bowls of popcorn, one of them caramel which he plopped right in Jungkook’s lap, stretching to give the other to Hoseok who was still immobilized due to a whining Jimin in his lap.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Jungkook glared at Jimin who stuck his tongue out in response.
Jin raised an eyebrow at Namjoon, who shrugged. “He wants to watch Gatsby.”
“What, again?” Jin echoed Jimin’s whines, staring at Jungkook pleadingly. The younger had a resolute expression, glaring at the others ferociously.
“You said I could pick the movie.” He protested. “You can’t complain now.”
“But we’ve seen it like a thousand times.” Jimin, who started his complaining in a teasing tone, was getting worked up now. “Besides, it’s supposed to be Hobi-hyung’s turn to pick.”
“So why did you tell me to pick?” Jungkook was equally frustrated now.
“Guys-“ Jin tried, but was promptly ignored.
“Because, we wanted to be nice.” Jimin fired back.
“I didn’t ask you to be nice.” Jungkook, voice just as hot, would have stood up if not for Namjoon’s protective hand against his shoulders. “You don’t have to let me pick the movie every time.”
“Yeah, we do.” Jimin had no such obstruction to stand up. He glared at Jungkook, and there was so much heat in his eyes that the younger, despite himself, couldn’t help but cower slightly into the blanket.
“Enough-“
“Why?” Jungkook cut Jin off again, looking small for all the anger still in him.
“Because.” Jimin pulled a face.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Why?”
“Guys-“
“Because!” Jimin yelled, hands running through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. He ignored Hoseok’s attempt to pull him down, taking a step back out of his reach.
“You don’t have to let me choose everything just because I’m dying!” Jungkook fired bitterly.
Everyone froze. Jungkook rarely addressed the situation so directly, and the others didn’t press him to confront his feelings. Jin glared at them both, wanting to scold but not knowing what could set them off further.
“Let’s just watch the stupid movie.” Jimin huffed, ears burning red from embarrassment or anger, it was hard to tell and he settled next to Taehyung on the floor, who visibly flinched.
“No, you clearly don’t want to. Let’s watch something else.” Jungkook mumbled quietly, waving Jin’s concern away.
“Jungkookie-“
“It’s fine.” He gave Hoseok a tight lipped smile, ignoring the concern.
Jimin had never felt like such shit before. He sat stewing in silence, frustration ebbing away slowly as the weight of Jungkook’s words settled in his stomach uncomfortably.
“Okay. Hobi?” Jin looked at Hoseok, who looked just as awkward as he felt.
“I wanna watch Gatsby.” Hoseok said quietly, eyeing Jungkook carefully even as the younger’s neck snapped to meet his eye.
“No, you don’t-“
“I do, yeah?” Hoseok offered him a tight smile. “Taehyung-ah, can you put it on?”
Namjoon felt Jungkook shifting in front of him, seemingly thrown off now, even as the opening credits played. The familiar music settled over the now silent room, but the tension was practically palpable.
“You don’t have to do this.” Jungkook mumbled, quietly enough so that only Namjoon who was sitting behind him, still leaning on the couch’s edge, heard him.
He squeezed Jungkook tighter. “We just want you to be happy.” His voice was deep, raspy, sending shivers down Jungkook’s spine.
“You don’t have to treat me like I’m a child, I can handle not watching what I want once in a while.” He sounded sad, helpless, making Namjoon tense. His instincts screamed to protect, to fix it, but he didn’t know how.
“We don’t think you’re a child.” Namjoon rasped carefully, hot breath fanning Jungkook’s ear.
The younger sighed. “But you treating me like I’m made of glass… I’m not going to break because you don’t want to watch the stupid movie.”
“I know, but baby,” He kissed Jungkook’s neck, a quick peck, as if in apology to what he was about to say, “It’s hard on us too. Jiminie’s stressed, and he’s clearly not handling it all that well. I’ll talk to him later, yeah?”
Jungkook frowned, even if Namjoon couldn’t see his face. His eyes were trained on the movie, but his mind was elsewhere. “I know it’s hard but… hyung, none of you said anything about it and it feels like… like you’re not…”
Namjoon let him gather his words, kissing his neck again in encouragement.
“… acknowledging. Like you’re pretending it isn’t happening. Every time I bring it up, you all go quiet, or you start telling me how much you love me, and I know you do, but… It feels like… I don’t want to accuse you of anything, but…”
“Take your time, I’m right here.” Namjoon murmured against his skin, pressing gentle kisses to the shoulder he exposed by pushing Jungkook’s loose t-shirt out of the way.
“… I feel like I’m going crazy.” Jungkook said, voice wet with tears. “My brain feels all fuzzy, and sometimes I can’t see very well, and I wake up, confused, because it all still feels like a dream and I don’t know what’s real anymore-“
Namjoon quickly shushed him, rocking them back and forth, wishing that Jungkook was sat facing him so he could press his head into his shoulder and comfort him better.
Jungkook hadn’t even realized he was sobbing, until the movie was paused and five pairs of eyes turned to look at him in shock.
“What happened?” Jin scrambled over the mess of limbs on the floor to get to Jungkook, tugging the younger’s face up so he could see his red eyes screwed shut.
Jungkook didn’t see what kind of face Namjoon pulled, but he assumed it couldn’t have been good, judging by the silence that seemed to settle over the room, like a heavy blanket. Jungkook felt there was no sense in keeping his cries in anymore, now that they knew something was up anyway.
Taehyung flung himself onto the couch, Namjoon grunting as he leaned on his legs to get to Jungkook, who latched onto him weakly. His hands were shaking.
“We’ve got you, we’ve got you.” Taehyung pressed a kiss to his forehead, hands running up and down his arms.
Jungkook didn’t know why he was crying. He felt stupid and emotional and now he ruined movie night.
“I’m sorry.” He hiccupped through his sobs, Namjoon quickly shushing him and murmuring soft praises that Jungkook didn’t care to distinguish. The rumble of his voice against his back was enough.
Slowly, but surely, Jungkook’s sobs stopped in force.
“You with us again?” Taehyung pulled away a little, smiling encouragingly when Jungkook made to hide away again. “Hey, none of that now. Let me see you.”
Jungkook raised his head reluctantly, cringing when Taehyung wiped his tears lovingly.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Namjoon whispered in his ear, but it was quiet enough that Teahyung and Jin who were closest heard it anyway.
Jungkook shook his head.
“Okay, okay,” Namjoon didn’t want him moving his head so much, scared of what it could do to him. “We love you, okay? And I’m not trying to distract you from anything, I mean that. We love you, Kookie, and I’m sorry we made you feel unacknowledged. I promise we won’t avoid the topic anymore.”
Jungkook nodded, appeased. At least for now.
“I…” Jimin had tears in his eyes too. “I’m sorry, Jungkookie.”
Jungkook met his eyes over Jin’s head. He did look sorry, sniffling sadly, the worry still evident in his red-rimmed eyes, mirroring Jungkook’s.
“I really am, I don’t know why I was so grumpy, I love Gatsby, it’s not like I care what we watch-“
“It’s okay, hyung.”
Jimin smiled, but it was so sad that Jungkook’s heart physically wrenched. He didn’t like it when he looked like that, when any of them looked like that, faces too beautiful and hearts too pure for this pain. Pain that he was causing.
“It’s not. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you, and I’m sorry.”
Jungkook mustered up his strength to give him a small smile. “It’s okay. It is kind of my fault, so…”
That made Jimin frown. Jungkook didn’t like that look any better. “What?”
“I mean, it’s me that’s making you stressed, right?” His heart skipped a beat, suddenly too warm under the blanket and the bowl of hot popcorn still in his lap, untouched. Taehyung was still rubbing his arms, face contorted in a way that told Jungkook he was holding his emotions back.
“Oh, baby.” Jin took the bowl away from him, grasping at his now empty hands. “Tell hyung what’s on your mind.”
The soothing tone, the gentle encouragement, the love, had his resolve swaying. “That I’m the problem.”
“Kookie-“
“I’m the one that’s sick, it’s my fault-“
“It is not your fault.” Yoongi’s stern voice cut him off. He looked tired, older beyond his years. “There is nothing you could have done, and I know that it sucks, but baby, it’s out of your hands. We don’t blame you, for any of it. We just want to help you, love you, make sure you’re happy.”
“How can I be happy, knowing I’m not gonna grow old with you guys?” A fresh wave of tears made it’s way down Jungkook’s face, hands squeezing at Jin’s roughly.
Even Yoongi didn’t have anything to say to that.
“We love you.” Taehyung offered instead, and even though they had repeated it over and over, constantly, so that they knew he knew, it still had a weight lifting off his chest. They loved him, right? They must do, going to all this trouble, all this emotional turmoil, just for him.
He didn’t want to acknowledge his insecurities then. They were there, a nagging sensation in his mind, that they were only like this because he was dying, the thought swirling in his head, but he forced it away, because he refused to have his remaining days be sad.
…
It had been a slow day that started with Jungkook groggily stumbling into the bathroom to throw up, little more than blood coming up.
He flinched at first, when someone gently pat his back, but when he turned around, vision spinning, he found Namjoon sitting there, smiling sadly.
“You good?” He asked, voice still raspy from sleep. Jungkook must have woken him up with his retching.
Jungkook was too weak to protest when Namjoon easily lifted him up, barely grunting at the weight, and sat him on the counter while he fetched his toothbrush. Jungkook had fallen asleep in Jin’s room, and this bathroom was closer.
He swung his legs mindlessly, too tired to complain when Namjoon forced his mouth open, brushing his teeth for him. It would have been a sweet gesture, if Jungkook didn’t feel like an invalid the entire time.
“How are you feeling?” Namjoon asked, staring at Jungkook as the younger drank obediently from the glass he was just given.
He swallowed, a stray drop of water falling off his chin and soaking into his white t-shirt. He hadn’t worn pants to bed, and was now regretting it, goosebumps rising from the cold.
“Like shit,” There was no point in lying, “My head hurts, and I feel dizzy.”
“Want to go back to bed?” Namjoon offered, taking the now empty glass from his hands and easily slotting between Jungkook’s thighs. Jungkook let the elder hug him, let his head be cradled gently between Namjoon’s big hands.
“Will you come with me?” Jungkook asked timidly.
Namjoon seemed thrown back at the rare expression of such vulnerability, but didn’t say anything about it. “Of course. Hobi should be awake now, wanna see if he’ll let us crash his bed?”
“He always lets us crash his bed.” Jungkook let Namjoon support him as they made their way out of the bathroom. “The question is if he has space in it.”
“We can kick Yoongi out.” Namjoon said easily, a grin spreading across his face. “He’ll be asleep for hours, won’t even know we’re stealing Hobi away.”
“Stealing me away, huh?”
Hoseok was indeed awake, sitting propped up against the headboard, thankfully alone, a phone in his hands that he lowered when he saw Jungkook.
Jungkook figured he looked a sight – dark bags under his eyes, pale skin, weak frame. Namjoon had to help him into bed when his legs buckled. Hoseok nearly said something, but bit his tongue, not wanting to tick the younger off. They had offered to get him a wheelchair, but Jungkook turned them down as soon as the topic was brought up.
“Come here.” Hoseok said gently, pulling Jungkook into chest, letting him nuzzle into his chest and tangle their legs together.
Namjoon smiled fondly. “I’ll go see if Jin’s awake so we can start breakfast. Any requests?”
“Bibimpap.” Jungkook muttered, eyelashes already fluttering shut. It was like six in the morning after all, a time they’d all be getting ready, if they still performed. It sparked a twinge of nostalgia in his gut. He used to pray he could sleep in, but when he wasn’t left with a choice…
“You can’t have bibimpap for breakfast.” Namjoon crossed his arms, staring at their youngest in exasperation.
“Jajangmeyon, then.” Jungkook yawned, and Hoseok had to resist the urge to coo. He looked so small like this, so innocent, still so young.
“Jungkook.” Namjoon scolded, but there was no heat behind his words.
“Namjoon.” Jungkook mocked, voice slurred and sleepy.
“Hyung.” Namjoon reprimanded.
“Thanks.”
“This kid, I swear.” Namjoon was shaking his head as he made his way out of the room. “Good luck with him.” He smiled at Hoseok, who was petting through Jungkook’s locks, a smitten look on his face.
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll need it. Kookie’s such a good boy, aren’t you?”
Jungkook visibly preened at the praise, body pressing closer to Hoseok’s. Namjoon raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Don’t rile him up.” Namjoon scolded, but Hoseok was never one to follow orders, not when it came to sex.
Hoseok ran a hand down Jungkook’s back, cringing when he felt the individual discs in his spine. He used to be so strong, ripped with muscle, now so frail, so much like his fifteen year old self that Hoseok hesitated. Jungkook must have sensed his uncertainty, because he raised his sleepy eyes, half-lidded with arousal, but it wasn’t pressing. It was comfortable, safe.
“Hyung?” His voice came out smaller than he meant it to.
Hoseok shook his head. “I’m here baby. Do you want hyung to make you feel good?” He prayed the shakiness wasn’t detectable.
Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, eyes already slipping closed again when Hoseok’s hand slipped under his shirt, coming around him to tease at his nipple, eliciting a low groan from the younger.
“Always so sensitive.” Hoseok praised, hand now hovering over the waistband of his trousers.
“Hobi.” Namjoon said, scandalized, but his pupils were blown wide, staring at Jungkook who was breathless just from a couple of simple touches. It was thrilling, addictive. Jungkook was so addictive and he didn’t even know. It made Namjoon want to show him.
“Namjoon.” Hoseok shot right back mockingly when Namjoon caged Jungkook in from the other side, his own hand now resting above Hoseok’s where it was cupping the front of Jungkook’s boxers.
“Jungkook.” Jungook muttered, but the effect was ruined by how out of breath he sounded. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, not when they were still heavy with sleep and he felt so good, so safe.
“Just relax baby, we’ll take care of you.” Namjoon kissed his nape, hand replacing Hoseok’s where it was splayed over his abdomen.
“Are you okay?” Hoseok, ever careful, stopped his hand where it was palming Jungkook, the younger already hard and leaking into the soft material.
Jungkook hummed in response, too lost in the moment to bother with words.
Hoseok would have none of it. “I need you to tell me you’re okay, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.” Jungkook grinded down into Hoseok’s hand, shamelessly chasing his own pleasure. He wasn’t usually this needy, but the others hadn’t been sexual with him for months, not since he wasn’t able to walk by himself, too afraid to make him worse. Jungkook hated it, but he understood. Their touch burned, set him alight from the inside. He needed more.
“Kookie.” Namjoon pressed, a sense of urgency in his tone. “You say the word and we stop, okay? If it’s too much, or you’re tired-“
“I know.” Jungkook twisted his neck to face Namjoon, cupping the elder’s cheek gently. His thumb ran over Namjoon’s eyebrow, and he watched in fascination as his eyes fluttered. “You’d never hurt me.” He said quietly, but confidently, because he knew it was the truth.
“I love you.” Namjoon tried to kiss his mouth, but couldn’t reach so he settled for his cheek instead.
“Hey, I love you too.” Hoseok protested, hand now curling over Jungkook’s dick in his boxers, teasingly stroking it once.
“I- ah- love you too.” Jungkook tried to quiet his moans, it was still way too early to risk waking anyone else up, not when Jungkook knew they couldn’t sleep, because of him. But he didn’t want to think about that now, not when Hoseok was jerking him off, pace too slow to bring any relief.
“Our good boy.” Namjoon praised, and Jungkook was surprised to find his voice breathless too. The others always assured him they wanted him, that they found him attractive, but it was in Jungkook’s nature to doubt.
“So beautiful.” Hoseok added, and Jungkook couldn’t help but moan obscenely. His hands shot up to brace against Hoseok’s chest, who was laying on his side to face him. Jungkook knew Hoseok was watching him, and he felt pretty for it, so before he could chicken out he leaned in to kiss Hoseok, mouth barely able to move when Hoseok swallowed his moans easily.
Namjoon was still playing with his nipples, brining goosebumps to the surface of Jungkook’s skin. He shuddered when Hoseok dug his thumb into the slit on his dick, hips jerking in an automatic reaction.
“Our baby.” Namjoon muttered in his ear, his hand easily pushing the boxers down to his thighs, exposing Hoseok’s actions. “So beautiful, so good for us.”
Jungkook wanted Namjoon to finally slip those long fingers inside him, and he felt embarrassed by his own desperation. But with them it was always all cards on the table, and he was yet to be mocked for his bedroom decorum.
“I- ah- need you, hyung.” Jungkook gasped in-between Hoseok’s kisses, the elder expertly bringing him closer to his release. Jungkook almost didn’t want to, knowing that the moment would end.
“None of that today, baby.” Namjoon kissed his shoulder, nibbling on the supple skin and grazing it carefully, mindful not to bite too hard. Jungkook liked the pain, asked for it, but Namjoon doubt any of them would agree to hurt him, not when Jungkook was barely able to walk down the stairs anymore.
It had always been a turn on, for big and scary Jungkook to submit to their touches so easily, for him to ask to be hurt, to be dominated, to be wrecked. Namjoon missed that, but Jungkook needed to be taken care of, and he doubted that rough sex would bring him that comfort.
“Hyung.” Jungkook whined, impatient, so rarely asking for what he wants that Namjoon couldn’t help but cave in. He met Hoseok’s eye when he raised his head. He jerked his chin towards the bedside drawer, and when Namjoon stretched to reach it, reluctant to let Jungkook go, his fingers barely able to grasp the lube.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, come on, please.” Jungkook managed to stutter out, almost sobbing in frustration when Hoseok’s hand was no longer moving . “No, please, please, hyung, please.”
“Easy,” Hoseok gently cradled Jungkook’s head, kissing his nose to calm him down. Jungkook wanted to cry, his dick so painfully hard it hurt.
“Anytime you need to stop, we will, okay?” Namjoon poured a generous amount of lube on his fingers. It was cold, so he rubbed his hands together to warm it up before circling Jungkook’s rim, loving the sigh that escaped his lips when he finally got what he wanted. “Okay?”
“Yes.” Jungkook’s voice was shaky at best, and he exhaled sharply when Namjoon slowly pushed one finger in, groaning at the tightness himself, imagining, knowing, what that heat felt like around his own dick. But this wasn’t about him now.
“Good boy.” Hoseok kissed his forehead, hand resuming its earlier agonizing pace over his dick, making Jungkook release a delicious moan.
“More.” Was all Jungkook managed to squeak out, debating whether he wanted to buck up into Hoseok’s grip or grind down on Namjoon’s fingers when he felt the satisfying stretch in his asshole, feeling so full, so loved.
He was seconds away from crying when Namjoon grazed his prostate, fingers curling against it, and Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to care that he was being loud, so loud even with Hoseok trying to muffle his cries with a kiss.
When Namjoon added a third finger, knuckles deep in his ass, and Hoseok squeezed at the head of dick, Jungkook came with a sob, embarrassed for the tears that streamed down his face, overwhelmed and disoriented, but happy nonetheless.
Hoseok kissed him through it, chaste for all they were doing, and when he pulled away he kissed his tears away too, even when Jungkook was still trembling in his hold with the aftershocks of it all.
“You okay?” Hoseok asked when he deemed Jungkook lucid enough, although he could tell the younger was already falling asleep.
“Mmm.” He hummed, content.
They were silent for a minute, until Jungkook felt Namjoon move. He turned, eyes wild when he found Namjoon standing up slowly, still hard in his joggers.
Namjoon sensed the panic and leaned down to kiss Jungkook deeply, thoroughly, as if they had all the time in the world. “I’m getting a towel, okay? I’ll be right back, baby, Hobi-hyung will stay with you.”
“What is going on here, huh?” Jin stood in the doorway, eyes crossed, and by the apathetic expression on his face, Jungkook knew he was aware exactly of what was going on, if not by Jungkook’s still fucked out expression, then by the drying cum on Hoseok’s fingers, the boners they were still sporting.
“Ah.” Namjoon rubbed his neck sheepishly, but didn’t move to elaborate. Jungkook didn’t meet Jin’s eye.
It was strange, to feel this sort of awkwardness. It was just sex, an activity so familiar to them that Jungkook was surprised Jin was even angry in the first place.
“You know the doctor said no strenuous activity,”Jin sat down on the edge of the bed, and Jungkook was too tired to even try to cover himself, his softening dick still exposed, his chest still rising irregularly.
“It’s not activity if Namjoon-hyung did all the work.” He mumbled, already turning on his side to cuddle back into Hoseok, who pushed him away, scandalized.
“And I’m what, a fucking wall?”
Jungkook raised an eyebrow without opening his eyes.
“I jerk you off and this is the thanks I get?” Hoseok huffed, but cuddled Jungkook into his side anyway, lips pressing into the mess that was his hair.
“You shouldn’t be trying to take credit.” Jin hissed, and Jungkook assumed he must have swatted Hoseok, judging by the yelp and jerk of his body. He couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes, sleep already tugging him under. “Aish, you brat.” Jin sighed, and Jungkook felt his head being petted, cheeks stroked gently. “What do you want for breakfast, Kookie?”
“Bibimpap.” Jungkook muttered, cheek squished against Hoseok’s chest. He felt his chest rise an fall in a poorly considered chuckle.
“Jungkook.” Namjoon sighed, defeated.
“Okay, baby,” Jin kissed his lips fleetingly, so gently that Jungkook doubted it happened at all. He still didn’t open his eyes. “Sleep now, you must be tired. Hobi will stay here with you, okay?”
“He can’t have bibimpap for breakfast.” Namjoon whined, but it was a loosing battle.
“My baby can have whatever he wants, right Jungkookie?”
And Jungkook would have agreed, smirked at Namjoon even, if he wasn’t already asleep.
…
“I can do it myself.” Jungkook tried to argue, but judging by the way Taehyung glared at him, Jungkook knew it was useless.
Even Taehyung was able to carry him now, Jungkook was so weak he was barely able to move around now. He didn’t talk about it, refusing to admit his body was giving up on him, refusing to admit that his head felt heavy with all the blood that was leaking into it.
“Why do it yourself when I can help?” Taehyung rebutted, opening the nail polish bottle swiftly, before adjusting his grip on Jungkook’s legs.
Jungkook wanted to argue. The way Taehyung looked at him gave away that he did not think Jungkook could do it himself, and he was probably right. Jungkook had to look away.
“You ready? Don’t move or I’ll spill it.” Was all the warning Taehyung gave before Jungkook felt the cold drip of polish on his skin.
He groaned. “My nails, not my skin, come on.”
“You’re distracting me.” Taehyung muttered angrily, so Jungkook just watched him work. His tongue peeked out of his mouth in concentration, and Jungkook wanted to etch his face into memory, every little crease, every pimple, every wrinkle, because Taehyung was so beautiful that Jungkook wanted to cry. He didn’t.
“There.” Taehyung smiled proudly, and Jungkook leaned forward to inspect his work.
“I love it, thanks hyung. They’re beautiful.” This was hands down the worst nail polish job Jungkook had ever seen, the mess of red polish all over his toes, some even on the couch and Jungkook dreaded the reprimand they’d get, but the way Taehyung’s face lit up was worth it.
“I’m glad.” Taehyung gently deposited his legs and leaned over him to kiss him. It was a quick peck, but it was enough.
Jungkook had never been good with words, not when it came to untangling his emotions and conveying just what he wanted to, what he needed to. He wanted to tell Taehyung that he loved him so much it was overwhelming, so much so that he missed him even though he was right there. There were a million words Jungkook wanted to get out, so many sonnets he wanted to say, poems Taehyung deserved to hear. Jungkook loved him, all of them, truly and from the bottom of his heart, and it hurt because he knew he couldn’t do anything about the fact that he was dying, so weak and barely even alive.
But being close to them set him alight. He couldn’t do much besides laying by now, his room resembling a hospital room too much for him to be comfortable in it, so he slept in someone else’s room every night, needing to feel their arms around him while he still could.
He knew the others were hurting too, as much as they tried to hide it. He knew they were exhausted caring for him twenty-four/seven, and a part of him was glad he’d be passing away soon, finally unburdening them so they could rest. Although he also knew the others wouldn’t rest, even when he was gone. If their love hadn’t been obvious before it had to be now, nothing else could explain the love and care they put into keeping him comfortable, happy. Of course, it could always have been pity, but Jungkook was thankful for it anyway, because even if they didn’t love him he loved them so much it didn’t matter if it was reciprocated or not, he was just glad that they were there.
There was so much he wanted to tell Taehyung; he wanted to thank him, apologize, ask for forgiveness… But Jungkook had never been good with words, so he grabbed Teahyung’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Hearing the elder chuckle into his mouth was the last straw, because Jungkook was crying now, still kissing Taehyung feverishly, hungrily, as if he would slip away from him any minute. Ironic, how it was really the other way around.
Taehyung felt the tears on his cheeks and the saltiness in his mouth, but he didn’t say anything. Jungkook seemed to need to be held close, kissed like the most precious gem on earth. And he was, god, he was.
Someone cleared their throat, and Jungkook felt Taehyung pull away slowly, their foreheads still touching.
“What?” Taehyung asked, none too kindly.
“Kookie’s parents are here.”
Jungkook’s eyes shot open, meeting Taehyung’s first, then Yoongi’s from across the room.
His parents had called Namjoon to say they were coming, and Jungkook had prepared, mentally at least, or so he thought. He hadn’t seen his parents after he told them he was dying, hadn’t answered their texts or calls since that one night when he called his mother to tell her he had less than a year to live. It hadn’t been a good night.
“You okay?” Taehyung asked, serene eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort, because they might have been his parents, but if Jungkook didn’t want to see them then he wouldn’t.
Jungkook inhaled deeply, testing his lungs. He thought he would have been more nervous. “Yeah.” He exhaled sharply, turning to smile at Yoongi. Yoongi nodded, giving him a forced smile of his own, and he walked away with a promise to fetch them.
“If you’re uncomfortable we can have Yoongi kick them out.” Taehyung assured, still pressed in close. They realized the position they were in was compromising enough, but when Taehyung made to pull away, Jungkook felt panic bubble in his stomach.
“No!” He clutched at Taehyung’s shirt who was still hovering above him, a position that couldn’t have been comfortable. “Please, I… I need you.”
Taehyung’s eyes softened. “Okay.” He kissed him quickly, a shallow peck, “But if they say anything mean about it they’re out of here.”
“Tae.” Jungkook tried to furrow his eyebrows, but found that he couldn’t when he was smiling so wide.
“Let me sit behind you.”
It took some manoeuvring, but eventually Jungkook was pressed against Taehyung’s chest, long legs caging him in from both sides, a fluffy blanket tucked all the way up to his chin. He was left breathless by the end, barely able to catch his breath even when Yoongi led his parents into the room, his brother trailing behind him unsurely.
Jungkook hadn’t seen his parents since Christmas three years ago, always too busy with tours and promotions to drop by. He regretted it now, and was surprised to find that he missed them. He thought BTS was his family, but his blood was important to him too. Jungkook wished he hadn’t blown them off for so long, because now they didn’t have enough time to amend that, and it was all Jungkook’s fault.
“Hi.” He mustered up a smile when the silence got a bit overwhelming.
“Oh, my baby boy,” His mother, still so young and beautiful, just as Jungkook remembered her, kneeled in front of Jungkook, grabbing his hands in hers and staring at him with wide eyes, his own, that were now overflowing with tears.
Jungkook had only seen her cry twice.
“How are you feeling?” She reached a cold hand out to palm at his forehead, then his cheeks, as if searching for a temperature, as if all that was wrong with him was a simple cold.
“I’m okay, eomma.” Jungkook smiled, but it was pained, forced. “I’m glad to see you.”
His mother chocked on a sob before composing herself. “My baby boy.” She was still crouching in front of him, her coat reminding him that it was November now. He hadn’t been outside in weeks, save for the few times Jimin sneaked him out onto the balcony so they could stargaze, but the only lights visible in Seoul were the millions of cars and buildings, lighting the city up as if it was Christmas. Jungkook wondered if he’d be alive for it.
Jungkook watched, still smiling softly, when his father came to join his mother on the ground, pulling her in close. Jungkook hadn’t always had a good relationship with him, considering he left when he was still so young, but his father made an effort. Jungkook had missed home, but the older he grew the more he forgot his roots.
“We’re so sorry.” His father looked at him, and Jungkook was surprised to see him crying too. He would have gotten up from the couch to hug them if he could, but he was still leaning heavily on Taehyung, like a useless rag doll.
“Can you help me stand?” Jungkook asked Taehyung quietly, eyes never wavering from his parents who stared at him with wide, uncertain eyes. He didn’t know what to say. There were too many things to say, so he didn’t say anything at all.
“Baby-“
“Tae, please.” Jungkook squeezed his mother’s hand tighter.
Taehyung met Yoongi’s eyes above his head, but he couldn’t decipher what he saw there; hurt, so much hurt that Taehyung was wondering if he was seeing things.
He sighed. “Okay.”
He untangled himself from Jungkook first, then grabbed him under the arms to lift him up, his chest still plastered to Jungkook’s back, arms secured around his abdomen. He could feel Jungkook trying to stand of his own accord, but he could also feel him in his arms, almost a dead weight.
He didn’t say anything when Jungkook was enveloped in a hug by his mother, then his father who nodded at Taehyung gratefully and muttered a quiet ‘I got him’ before Taehyung was stepping away, giving them space.
Jungkook’s brother, Junghyun, was standing next to Yoongi awkwardly, and he looked so much like Jungkook that Taehyung did a double take. He looked strong, like Jungkook had a couple of months ago. It was unfair, that it was Jungkook in this predicament, that it was his baby who was hurting, and his brother was right there, healthy as rain, looking so much like Jungkook… Taehyung had to physically stop himself from continuing down that road. It wasn’t fair to anyone, it wouldn’t do to dwell on what ifs.
The three of them watched as Jungkook sobbed into his parents arms, held up entirely by his father now, and Taehyung hadn’t expected this. Jungkook had never been close with his family, but then dying puts things into perspective. He didn’t want to go down that road either.
“Sit, sit, don’t strain yourself.” His mother urged and Jungkook was lowered onto the couch, wiping his eyes away with a bony arm. “My baby.” His mother ran a hand through Jungkook’s hair. It was long now, falling into his eyes constantly, but he didn’t see the point in cutting it. “So handsome.” She muttered, eyes shining with more tears.
There were so many things Jungkook wanted to say. So many things he should have said, because his parents didn’t know anything about him, didn’t know he was in a relationship with six men that they trusted to take care of him, didn’t know his favourite colour was blue now, because the black seemed too dark and red reminded him of blood. They didn’t know he learnt the basics of the keyboard from Taehyung and sang them songs when he missed them, that he still had those stuffies his mother sneaked into his suitcase when he left home. His favourite fruit was the mango, he still followed IU and listened to her songs, and he wanted to get a dog when he was older, living somewhere where nobody knew their names and they could just love. He wanted to say it all, make sure they knew who he was before he passed away, but it wouldn’t have helped because at the end of the day he was still dying and his parents would still hurt the same.
So he didn’t say it, words caught in his throat, as he cried for all the unspoken words he wouldn’t have time to speak, for all the songs he wouldn’t sing and for all the love he wouldn’t be able to give.
…
Jungkook was nervous, but then he didn’t have the energy to be nervous so he decided he had nothing to lose and to just say what he wanted to say.
He had talked with Dr Lee, who only gave him that pitying smile when he told him he wouldn’t be alive for Christmas. Jungkook anticipated this, but it still stung because this was real now. He could die any day, and he felt like a sitting duck, more than anything.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but when he spent all of the day before with an agonizing migraine and throwing up blood, he decided it couldn’t wait. It was time.
Jin had carried him to the living room as per his request. They were all reluctant to move him around in case he had a seizure and needed the equipment littering his room, but Jungkook was glad to be away any chance he got. He didn’t want to say goodbye on what was ultimately his death bed.
“Is everything okay? Does something hurt? Do we need to get you to the hospital?” Hoseok worried, quick to tuck Jungkook in as the younger leaned against the headrest. Jimin made to slither in next to him, but Jungkook shook his head, halting his movements.
“I… I want to see your face.” He smiled apologetically, but it was so fake that it hurt. Jimin tried not to let it affect him as they all gathered in front of the couch, hesitant and concerned.
“Kookie, you’re scaring us baby, what’s going on? Do I need to call for an ambulance?” Jin tried again, but Jungkook was tight-lipped. He had been psyching himself up all day, but now that he was here he didn’t know where to begin.
So he started at the beginning.
“When I met you I was thirteen,” He begun, voice thick and trembling, “I was scared of leaving home for a hopeless dream, scared to end up another washed out failure.” He paused, raising his eyes to meet theirs. Yoongi smiled so genuinely that Jungkook wanted to cry, but he pushed himself through it. “I was a kid, and you took me in, took care of me and you- you weren’t fazed when I cried and you were always there for me. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you too.”
“Kookie, you were-“
“Please, let me finish.” Jungkook cut Jimin off, waiting to see if any of the would speak up again. They didn’t. “And then you said you wanted to love me, and I wanted to love you too, every part of you like you deserved it, like you do deserve it. You made me so happy, and life was so easy. I was always told that relationships take work, and this monstrosity of a relationship seemed like it’d be a lot of work too, but it was always just so easy to be with you, to love you, like it was meant to be.” He chuckled, dabbing at his eyes furiously, refusing to look at any of them. “I never believed in any of that fate crap, but with you… It was everything I could have ever wanted, and I still want it, so much. And it hurts because I know I’m leaving, when you all will still have each other.”
Someone started sobbing. Jungkook didn’t have the heart to raise his head to check who it was.
“I don’t resent you for that.” He continued gently, so quiet he was scared they wouldn’t hear him. A part of him didn’t want them to hear him, because he had never bared himself like this before – so openly and irreversibly. “I want you to love each other and be together because it fits. I don’t know how, but it does. There was never any urgency with you, any time limit. But there is one now, and as much as I’ve been avoiding this conversation I just… I love you all, so much, and I’m so angry that it’s being taken away from me so soon, before I really got to love you the way you all deserve.”
“Kookie-“
Jungkook looked up finally, to find that it was Hoseok that was sobbing, while Jimin was trying not to break down in his arms. Taehyung had his face hidden in his arms. Namjoon wasn’t looking at him, but stared somewhere above his head as if he was pretending this conversation wasn’t happening. Jungkook didn’t blame him. Jin had no such reservations, as he stared at Jungkook with wide, tearful eyes, his lower lip quivering as if he would start bawling any second. Jungkook had the urge to kiss it all better.
Yoongi was the hardest to face, because the raw pain in his eyes was so out of the ordinary that Jungkook didn’t know if he’d have the nerve to continue.
“But I do love you, I need you to know that. I’ll love you forever and always, and I’ll love you still when I get to… wherever I’m going. And who know, maybe that reincarnation crap that Jin believes is true and I’ll see you all soon, yeah?” Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh through his tears when Jin released a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“It’s hyung.” Jin corrects through his tears, voice chocked beyond recognition.
Jungkook hadn’t heard them cry like this before.
“I know.” Jungkook smiled, and he poured everything he could into that smile, not knowing if it’d be his last.
Because his hyungs deserved to know he died happy, and it was all thanks to them.
“You make me happier than I ever thought I could be.” Jungkook was sobbing now too, but he didn’t let Hoseok climb onto the couch to cuddle him, needing to see them one last time.
“Kookie, are you… is this goodbye?” Hoseok whispered, panic and disbelief in his eyes.
Jungkook smiled softly through the tears, reassuring in a way that he should be reassured right now. But Jungkook didn’t need the comfort. He was so angry, the pain still fresh in his mind, but he came to terms with it. He was dying, but his hyungs weren’t. They deserved to be happy, just like they made him.
“I think so.” Jungkook replied gently, and let himself be manoeuvred into a hug this time, Hoseok nearly choking on his tears as he pressed Jungkook into his chest, as if that could make him stay. Jungkook let himself be swept up into the feel of Hoseok around him, but he still had things to say. For the first time it was clear now, what he needed them to know, what they needed to hear.
Jungkook pushed at Hsoeok gently, Jimin immediately taking his place. The rest of them piled around him, needing to touch him in some way, and maybe it was better to say it like this, when he couldn’t see the heartbreak on their faces, when they couldn’t see his.
His voice was surprisingly steady, accepting, when he spoke. “I love you all, so fucking much. I’m sorry I won’t spend the rest of my life with you, or in a way, I am.” He hoped they’d at least chuckle at the poor attempt of a joke. They didn’t. “I need you all to be strong for each other, okay?” He said, seriously this time. “Jin-hyung, you always take care of us, but let yourself be taken care of too. Don’t push them away when they’ll try to help. I’m holding you responsible for this relationship, hyung, okay? You can’t let yourselves drift apart, no matter how much it hurts.” Jin was behind him, Jungkook could tell, but by the squeeze to his waist he knew he understood. “And Yoongi-hyung, don’t put other’s needs above your own. Work isn’t everything, I should know. You never have as much time as you think you do, and I don’t want you to waste it sitting in your studio because you think the price of our love is your usefulness.”
“Jungkook-“
“And Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook ignored Yoongi’s chocked words, because he had to finish before he broke down. He didn’t know how much longer he had. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. I know your insecurities have driven us away before, but I speak for everyone when I say we love you unconditionally. Always and forever, no matter what, right? That’s what Hobi-hyung told me.” Jungkook closed his eyes, burying his face in Jimin’s shoulder. “You can’t pretend that you’re selfless and care about us more than yourself when you’re insecure about the love we want to give. You can’t let it get to that point, do you understand?” Maybe he was being too harsh, but it was urgent, and he needed them all to understand. He waited until Jimin nodded into his shoulder, small frame shaking with sobs. Jungkook ran a hand down his back, too tired to do it again.
“Tae-hyung,” He started after he deemed himself composed enough. He felt Taehyung tense next to him, anticipating what Jungkook would say to him, “You have been the closest thing I ever had to a best friend. My partner in crime.” He smiled, feeling the tears well up again. “Don’t shut yourself away because you think no one will understand. Maybe they won’t, but they’ll be there to pick up the pieces. Let yourself go sometimes, be vulnerable. Take it from someone who never talked about feelings because it made me feel weak, but I’m stronger for it. Talk about your emotions, Tae, because they’re what makes you tick and every single one of them is beautiful. I need you to feel. I know you’ll want to shut it all off, but you can’t, okay? You can’t.” Taehyung found his hand that was still placed on Jimin’s back gently and squeezed. “Don’t turn it off because it hurts.” He whispered into Jimin’s hair, unsure who he was talking to anymore.
But he wasn’t done. “Hobi-hyung, my sun,” Even saying his name made him feel better. “Be sad too. You think no one notices when the smiles are forced, when the jokes hit a little too close to home, but I promise you, they won’t love you any less because you need to cry too. You bottle things up until you can’t take it anymore, and it hurts. It hurts everyone around you to see you hurting when you won’t admit that there’s anything wrong. I know you feel responsible for us, for our morals or whatever, but we want you happy too, yeah?” His words were shaken by sobs, but it didn’t matter, because it was like a weight lifting off his shoulders. He hadn’t told them any of this before, because they wouldn’t have listened anyway. They had to now, they needed to, because this relationship had to survive.
“Joonie-hyung,” He whispered, spent for all he still tried to be strong, “You’re the rock, the foundation on which BTS was built.” Jungkook took a deep breath to calm his erratic heart. “You have worked harder than all of us combined, and there’s so much that you did that I don’t even know about, because you’ve always been like that – quiet and observant and quick to fix. There are some things you can’t change, hyung, sometimes we just have to let ourselves grieve.” The words were raw, so painful to say that Jungkook wasn’t sure who he was speaking about anymore. “I know you itch to act, to do, but… you can’t keep ploughing forward without a break.”
There was still so much he wanted to say, and no way of saying it. How do you say goodbye to the people he loved more than life itself?
“Jungkookie.” Jimin sobbed into his shoulder, shaking them all with how forceful it was. Jungkook sighed, suddenly exhausted.
“Kookie,” It was Hoseok, face blotchy and red, who scratched at his neck, but it didn’t sound like he wanted to say anything besides his name.
“M’tired, hyung.” Jungkook mumbled, head lolling to the side before Namjoon caught it.
“Let’s get Kookie to bed, okay?” Hoseok said gently, and Jungkook realized it was aimed at Jimin who was still clinging to him for dear life. Hoseok looked tired himself, but more emotionally so than physically, and he coaxed Jimin away so Namjoon could lift Jungkook up bridal-style.
Jungkook was practically asleep when he felt himself being lowered back into his bed, so he clutched at Namjoon’s shirt weakly, tears still squeezing themselves out of his eyes.
“Stay?” He croaked out, and who was Namjoon to deny him? He climbed in next to Jungkook, Taehyung quietly slipping in from the other side, and Jungkook closed his eyes, humming in content.
He wanted to tell them he loved them, but he had no energy left.
Think of me sometimes, okay?, he wanted to say. He couldn’t ask them to remember him, though, no matter how desperately he didn’t want to fade from their memories. That was all he’d be soon, a memory, a ghost in the form of his clothes, drawers full of mementos and photos in their camera rolls.
“We love you so much.” Taehyung pressed a wet kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. “You have given us so much and we haven’t given enough back yet. You deserve the stars, Jungkook, and you’re so good, so good.”
“The best.” Namjoon muttered, cradling Jungkook’s body against his own, hands intertwined with Taehyung’s where they rested on Jungkook’s waist.
“You’ll make me horny.” Jungkook slurred, “Love you.” But it was evident he was asleep the second the back of his head touched Namjoon’s chin.
Taehyung choked on a sob, barely able to muffle it with the back of his hand as he stared at Jungkook’s sleeping face.
“I love you.” Taehyung cried, not daring to close his eyes in case Jungkook disappeared into thin air.
“Is he asleep?” Jin peeked his head through the doorway, everyone else piling into the room after him.
“Yeah.” Namjoon exhaled heavily. “I’ve never heard him talk so much.”
“Seemed like he had a lot to say.” Jin muttered, fond, even though still pained.
Jimin wanted to climb into the bed too, but there was hardly any space left. “I love you, Jungkookie.” He didn’t care he was ugly-crying again, not when Yoongi pulled him into his side as they stood around the bed, watching the steady fall of Jungkook’s chest.
“When did he grow up so much?” Yoongi asked into the silent room, glancing briefly out the window to notice that it was already dark. Jungkook had barely been awake for an hour today, too tired to even eat.
“I don’t want to lose him.” Taehyung whispered, watching as his breath made Jungkook’s bangs flutter over his face.
“He looked like he accepted it.” Jin said, silent resignation in his voice. It was helpless, there was nothing they could do.
“He spoke so beautifully.” Hoseok commented, dabbing at his wet eyes. “Our little Jungkookie.”
They spent the night like this, staring at Jungkook’s sleeping face, committing every detail to memory. His words echoed in their heads, because Jungkook was right. They had to fight for this relationship, no matter how fragmented it would get without Jungkook to keep them steady.
…
Jungkook died sometime before the sun rose, because when Taehyung awoke to the sun’s early rays Jungkook wasn’t breathing.
The funeral was simple; only family and friends came to the little cemetery in Busan, where Jungkook was buried next to his grandparents, a spot that was reserved for his parents first.
They all cried, but Yoongi cried softly, privately, for himself and Jungkook, for the days they wouldn’t spend together, for the empty room they’d go back to in their luxurious apartment in Seoul. It didn’t matter that they were famous, that they got what they wanted – this was the goal, wasn’t it? Globally recognized artists, loved internationally and helping many earning millions by the second. And yet it didn’t matter, because when it came down to it Jungkook was still dead.
It was a bitter reality, a bitter truth and above all else they were angry. But Jungkook had warned them that their own selfishness would be their downfall, and that they had to allow themselves to grieve. So they did.
They hosted a wake in Jungkook’s name, just for the six of them, and no one commented when Taehyung emerged from his room, wearing one of Jungkook’s hoodies because it still smelled like his strawberry shampoo and the cheap cologne he liked because it was the one Yoongi used to wear when they were trainees. It was nostalgic, and it burned just as much as the vodka they poured down their throats, as they each scrolled through their phones and reminisced within the millions of photos and videos they took since day one. It wasn’t enough to capture what Jungkook was to them, what he still was.
Because Jungkook was the glue that kept it all from going to shit, and he’d done it all without realizing.
But the days had to go by, no matter how badly they tried to stop the world from moving on it had to.
The day they first tweeted since Jungkook got diagnosed was to announce they were taking a break, but would ultimately be back, because the world had to keep turning.
It was hard, making music, accidentally saying his name in practice because it was just so natural. It was all they ever knew.
Jungkook’s parents came to visit often. They went out to eat at the restaurants Jungkook had liked, and ordered the food he always ate, trying to keep him alive so desperately that it was killing them.
But they had to grieve.
And eventually, breathing got a little easier when summer rolled around, and they had no excuse to wear Jungkook’s hoodies anymore. When the rain fell they stopped aching because Jungkook loved the rain so much he insisted on going outside with no regards for his own health, seeming so much like the child he still was. It got easier to watch the droplets run down the windows, warm tea in their hands and hesitant smiles they hadn’t seen for months on each other.
Sejin suggested they switch apartments. Namjoon wouldn’t hear it.
It still hurt, but it wasn’t blinding anymore. Because the world had to keep turning, with or without Jungkook, and Jungkook wouldn’t have wanted them to grieve themselves away and waste the life he hadn’t been able to live out.
And soon, even the ache faded to a dull throb, a nostalgic memory, a reminiscence, still so fresh but not suffocating, not consuming. Jungkook had been the glue that held them together, but he wasn’t really gone, not for as long as they had him in their hearts.
Because although Jeon Jungkook was dead, life had to keep on going.