Chapter Text
(T/W: Abuse)
Flashback - Mid-2021
It had been a month since Hoseok had practically dragged Jin out of his own apartment to escape Hayoon. Time had passed in a haze, Jin spending all of it tucked away in the safety of Hoseok’s home. Hayoon hadn’t let up, though. Sometimes she still lingered near Jin’s apartment, waiting like a shadow to see if he would return. But Jin didn’t give her the chance. He answered her texts with calculated care, feeding her just enough of what she wanted to hear to keep her at bay.
“I just think we need some distance right now,” Jin would explain, fingers hovering over his phone as he crafted his replies. “Hoseok’s been keeping an eye on me… it’s for the best.”
It worked, for the most part. Hayoon’s hatred for Hoseok had grown under this excuse, her texts laced with venom whenever his name came up. She believed Jin, though, and that was all that mattered. Jin gave her just enough obedience and love to convince her that he was still under her control, like some helpless puppet. He lied to her, said that he had told Hoseok all the shatterings were his fault, that he was the one who had been clumsy, just like she had claimed that day.
Her grip tightened over the lie.
“Why does Hoseok keep interfering, then?” she had demanded one night, her frustration seeping through the screen. “You said he doesn’t even believe you.”
“He doesn’t,” Jin had typed back quickly, staring at the glowing text box. “But every time I mention meeting with you, he insists on tagging along, just to keep an eye on me. It’s the only reason we haven’t met since that night. That, and the promotions.”
It wasn’t a total lie. The band had been everywhere—on TV, in interviews, performing “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” on every major show. Their schedules were tight, demanding. It made sense to her, at least enough to stop asking why Jin hadn’t been back to her apartment. The world was watching, their careers at their peak, and that excuse worked like a charm.
As for Hoseok, he had been a steady presence in Jin’s life, even more so now. Hoseok’s place had become a sanctuary, a place where Jin could breathe without the weight of Hayoon pressing down on him. Hoseok had been discreet, not prying too much, but Jin knew he was watching—closely. Every time Jin’s phone buzzed with another text from Hayoon, Hoseok would glance over, his gaze steady but quiet. He didn’t ask, but his silence was a reminder that he hadn’t forgotten.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Hoseok commented one evening, catching Jin’s eye as he collapsed onto the couch beside him. The TV was playing softly in the background, another interview playing on screen. The members were laughing, playful, and full of energy as they discussed their recent successes. But Jin felt like a spectator to his own life, watching from the outside.
“I’m just tired,” Jin murmured, brushing a hand through his hair. “The schedules are brutal.”
Hoseok didn’t push. He nodded, eyes flicking to the screen. “Yeah… they’ve been nonstop. I don’t blame you.”
Silence settled between them, comfortable but weighted. Jin hadn’t told Hoseok everything. He couldn’t. Hoseok didn’t know the full extent of what Hayoon was capable of, or how far she had already pushed Jin. But the longer he stayed here, under Hoseok’s roof, the more he felt the walls closing in. The lies were building, and Jin wasn’t sure how long he could keep them from crumbling.
The truth, however, remained buried. For now.
Meanwhile, Jin and Hoseok had begun to quietly conspire about how to get rid of Hayoon without the looming threat of her causing chaos. They both knew what she was capable of—staging photos, starting rumors, or worse, outright confessing to the world that she and Jin had been in a relationship. It was a delicate situation, one that had Jin on edge almost constantly. The weight of it sat heavy between them during every conversation they had, no matter how mundane.
The pictures were the worst of it. Jin remembered each one Hayoon had taken. She’d always wanted to capture their moments together, but it had never felt right to him. Every time she lifted her phone, he’d asked her not to, told her they needed to be careful. But she always pushed back, her tone turning sharp, accusations flying that he was ashamed of her.
“Why? Am I not good enough for you?” she’d sneer, her grip tightening on her phone as Jin tried to reason with her. It didn’t take long before the arguments escalated, her voice rising, her words becoming more cutting, more violent. He would eventually relent, letting her take the photos just to avoid another outburst.
But now, those photos were her weapon. A reminder that she held power over him. In the wrong hands, those pictures could ruin everything. It wasn’t just about his career—it was about the band, too. BTS had carefully built their image over the years, and any scandal involving a relationship, especially one that involved violence and manipulation, could destroy all of that. The media’s protection was thin when it came to these kinds of things. It was no secret that women had power in these situations, and for someone like Hayoon, it was a tool she could wield with precision.
He knew she had experience blackmailing people, because he’d found out after snooping around her phone one day months ago that there were two idols that sent her perks in exchange for her silence. What their secrets were, Jin didn’t know. All he knew was that this spelled trouble for him.
Jin ran a hand over his face, his fingers brushing against his temple as he thought about the conversations he and Hoseok had been having lately. They were trying to be strategic, careful not to make any moves that would provoke her into revealing anything. But the longer it went on, the more dangerous it felt.
“I don’t know how to get out of this without her blowing up,” Jin said one evening, his voice low as he and Hoseok sat together in the kitchen. The clock on the wall ticked quietly, the only sound in the room besides their hushed conversation. “She’s got too much on me.”
Hoseok leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a serious expression settling on his face. “We need to make her think she’s in control. The moment she feels like she’s losing her grip, she’ll react. We have to be careful about how we handle this, Jin.”
“I’ve been trying,” Jin muttered, frustration leaking into his voice. “I’m still answering her texts, giving her just enough so she doesn’t suspect anything. But it feels like we’re playing with fire. If she gets upset, all she has to do is post one photo. Or worse… go public.”
Hoseok’s eyes darkened. “That’s what I’m worried about. The rumors alone would be bad, but if she confesses… it could destroy a lot.”
Jin’s heart pounded at the thought. The fragile line they were walking was dizzying. The media didn’t play fair when it came to these situations. For any member of a band as big as BTS, dating had always been dangerous. There were no real protections in place for them, not when a woman like Hayoon could decide, at any moment, to expose everything. One tweet, one Instagram post, and the tabloids would devour it. And once the story was out, no amount of damage control would be enough.
“We need to find a way to get rid of her without giving her a reason to lash out,” Hoseok said quietly, his voice calm but laced with tension. “We can’t confront her directly. She has too much leverage.”
Jin sighed, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the table. “I don’t even know how we got here. I never should’ve let it go this far. But at the time, it felt like I had no choice. Every time I tried to push back, she’d get angry. And… I just couldn’t handle it.”
“I know, hyung,” Hoseok said softly. “She manipulated you. This isn’t your fault.”
“But it feels like it is.” Jin shook his head, the guilt settling deep in his chest. “She knows exactly what to say to make me feel like I owe her something. Like I’m the one who needs to make up for everything.”
“We’re going to figure this out,” Hoseok assured him, but even he looked uncertain. “We just have to be smart about it. We can’t give her any reason to use those pictures. And we need to make sure she doesn’t know we’re planning anything.”
The clock continued ticking, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. They knew what was at stake, but they had no choice. They had to tread carefully, or Hayoon’s secrets could bring everything crashing down.
Since the day that Hoseok pulled Jin out of his apartment, Hoseok never left Jin’s side. He had become Jin’s anchor, guiding him through the storm of emotions and trauma that had been threatening to drown him.
Every night, Hoseok was there, holding Jin close when the night terrors hit, reassuring him with quiet words and gentle touches that he was safe now. That he mattered. That he was worth more than the pain he’d been through.
Hoseok had done his research—read everything he could find online about helping someone in an abusive relationship, even consulted an expert in secret to make sure he was doing the right thing. He took action without hesitation, making sure that Jin had all the support he needed to heal. One of the first things Hoseok did was get Jin a therapist, a quiet, empathetic woman who came to Hoseok’s house twice a week to meet with Jin. And every time, Hoseok would be waiting, ready to comfort him after the sessions, always there to hold Jin whenever he needed it. No matter what.
It was this familiar structure, this quiet but steady routine, that began to put Jin back together. Hoseok had given him a sense of normalcy again, a life that wasn’t ruled by fear or manipulation. They had settled into a routine, one that was both comforting and healing.
Every morning, Jin would wake up with Hoseok’s arms wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and security he hadn’t felt in so long. Hoseok would cook them breakfast—nothing fancy, but always enough to make sure Jin started his day with a full stomach and a little bit of hope.
They drove to work together, the silence between them never awkward, but filled with a kind of understanding that didn’t need words. They went about their responsibilities, but Jin always knew Hoseok was just a few steps away, ready to check in on him with a smile or a touch on his shoulder. When the workday ended, they’d drive home together, never in a rush, just taking their time.
At home, Jin would cook them dinner—his way of giving back, of showing Hoseok his gratitude without having to say it out loud. The smell of spices and sauces filling the apartment, bringing back a little bit of life to the space they now shared. After dinner, they’d settle in front of the TV, watching movies or shows, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence. And when the night came to an end, they’d fall asleep together, wrapped up in each other’s arms.
It wasn’t a perfect solution—Jin knew that. But the routine was helping him heal, helping him feel like he had control again. And every night, as Hoseok held him close, Jin realized more and more that this was what safety felt like. He was finally starting to believe it.
The closeness between them had become something Jin hadn’t expected, but it was exactly what he needed. It wasn’t just friendship anymore—it was something deeper, more intimate. Hoseok was there for him in a way that no one else had been, not even his other bandmates. He didn’t judge, didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from Jin. He just loved him, quietly and completely.
And Jin was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he deserved that love after all.
Despite the whirlwind of promotion schedules that had them flying all over the world, Hoseok and Jin had found ways to maintain the comforting daily routine they’d built together. No matter what country they were in, what hotel they stayed at, or how packed their schedules were, they made sure to sleep in the same room, as if the physical closeness could protect them from the chaos of the outside world. It was the one part of their lives they refused to compromise on, a safe space they carried with them wherever they went.
Meals were the same—no matter how tight the schedule got, Jin and Hoseok would always find time to eat together. Whether it was breakfast before a flight or a late-night dinner after an exhausting performance, it was a ritual that anchored them both. In those quiet moments, away from cameras and crowds, they could just be themselves.
On their rare days off, Hoseok had gently started suggesting they take small steps to help ease Jin’s fear of leaving the house. The trauma of his relationship with Hayoon still hung over him like a shadow, but Hoseok was determined to help Jin move past it, at his own pace.
“I’ll be right beside you the whole time,” Hoseok would promise, whenever Jin hesitated. “You don’t have to worry about seeing her. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
They started small, venturing out to quiet cafes or late-night walks when the streets were empty. Hoseok was always there, standing right beside Jin, offering comfort and reassurance with his presence. It wasn’t easy—there were moments when Jin’s anxiety would spike, his fear of running into Hayoon overwhelming him. But each time, Hoseok would steady him, his hand on Jin’s back, whispering words of encouragement until the panic passed.
Slowly but surely, Jin began to trust that he could be safe again. He wasn’t ready to face everything yet, but with Hoseok at his side, he didn’t have to do it alone. And that made all the difference.
The physical affection Hoseok offered had become a key part of Jin’s recovery. It was something Jin had never realized he needed until Hoseok made it a part of their daily life, a constant reminder that Jin was safe, loved, and not alone. Hoseok, who typically reserved his most affectionate side for the three youngest members of the band, now insisted on providing Jin with what he called “safe touches”—a concept he’d come across while researching trauma recovery.
At first, it was simple gestures. Hoseok would hold Jin’s hand when they walked to their cars or offer hugs when he saw Jin tense up after a difficult day. He’d sit close to Jin on the couch during movie nights, their arms brushing, letting Jin get used to the contact at his own pace. Jin hadn’t realized how touch-starved he had been, how starved for touch that didn’t come with strings attached, until Hoseok filled that gap.
In the beginning, Hoseok had always asked before making any physical gesture, checking in with Jin to make sure he was comfortable. “Is this okay?” Hoseok would ask, his hand hovering just above Jin’s back, or before pulling Jin into a hug. There was never pressure, only patience, and Jin’s answers had been shaky at first—half-hearted nods or hesitant “yes”s.
But as the days passed, and the safe touches became part of their routine, Jin noticed how much they helped him heal. The simple act of Hoseok’s arms wrapping around him, the way Hoseok would intertwine their fingers when they sat side by side—it all chipped away at the walls Jin had built around himself. Eventually, they reached a point where Hoseok didn’t need to ask for permission anymore. Jin stopped flinching, stopped stiffening up at unexpected contact. He welcomed it.
Now, Jin could relax fully into Hoseok’s embrace without a second thought, letting the warmth of his touch soothe the ache of his memories. There was no fear left in these moments, only comfort. Jin would sometimes rest his head on Hoseok’s shoulder during their long talks, or they’d end up cuddling on the couch after a particularly draining day.
The affection wasn’t just healing Jin physically—it was healing him emotionally, showing him what real care and gentleness felt like. Hoseok’s patience and understanding, the way he had tailored his affection to Jin’s needs, made Jin feel like maybe, just maybe, he could start to feel whole again.
Hoseok had always been careful with Jin’s recovery, treating every step as something delicate, something to be handled with care. But he knew Jin needed more than just him—he needed the warmth and support of the other members, even if they didn’t know the full story of what had happened.
When everything first started, Jin had become so skittish that the others had instinctively backed off, giving him space. They didn’t ask too many questions, just noting how easily spooked he seemed. It was painful to watch Jin grow distant, but none of them pushed him. Hoseok could see the restraint in the way Taehyung used to reach for Jin, only to pull his hand back at the last second, or how Namjoon would hesitate before sitting beside Jin during group meetings. Everyone gave Jin his distance.
But now that Jin was finding his way back, Hoseok had a plan. He didn’t want to overwhelm Jin, but he knew the other members’ affection would mean the world to him. Jin had said himself that he was ready to be close with the others again, but after so much time, they didn’t know how to approach him.
So Hoseok took it upon himself to give the band a gentle push in the right direction. Without revealing the deeper issues, Hoseok casually slipped subtle hints during their conversations.
During practice one day, Hoseok made sure to mention to Jimin, “You know, I think Jin misses your random back hugs.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I thought he didn’t like it anymore.”
“Nah, he’s just been... going through some stuff. But trust me, he’s ready for the affection again. Just be yourself around him.”
With Jungkook, Hoseok mentioned how Jin had talked about how much he missed their old playful wrestling matches. “Next time you’re around him, maybe... tackle him for fun, like old times?”
Jungkook laughed, relieved. He must have missed his hyung. “I’ve been waiting for that, hyung.”
Hoseok was subtler with Namjoon and Yoongi, knowing they’d pick up on the cues with a simple comment here and there. “Jin’s been more open lately,” he’d say casually. “I think he’s ready to feel normal again.”
Soon, the changes started happening. Jin found himself enveloped in Jimin’s spontaneous back hugs again, greeted by Taehyung’s playful shoves, and found Namjoon or Yoongi sitting closer to him during quiet moments. At first, it was overwhelming in a good way—familiar, but new all at once. The members still didn’t ask why Jin had distanced himself in the first place; they just followed Hoseok’s lead, slowly reintroducing their affection into Jin’s life.
The joy in Jin’s face each time they reached out to him was more than enough for Hoseok. Watching Jin laugh a little louder, smile a little brighter, and lean into the affection that had once been second nature reminded Hoseok why he’d gotten the others involved.
Jin was finally starting to feel like himself again, and Hoseok couldn’t have been prouder. The band’s love and support were always there, ready to catch him whenever he was ready to fall back into their embrace.
Hoseok had a unique way of comforting Jin, one that was almost instinctive. Whenever Jin felt the rising tide of a panic attack—a tightening in his chest, the tremor in his hands, the wave of shame and self-loathing that followed—Hoseok was right there. He never rushed or forced Jin into anything, but he had a way of surrounding Jin with so much warmth, so much love, that there wasn’t space left for the darkness that usually crept in.
Hoseok’s patience was boundless. He knew all of Jin’s triggers, the ones that could unravel him in an instant, and he was careful to guide Jin around them. If a sudden sound startled Jin, Hoseok would be there with a reassuring touch. If something as simple as an offhand comment set Jin spiraling, Hoseok would pull him aside, taking his time to let Jin settle down. He never made Jin feel weak for having those moments; he only ever reminded him of his strength. “You’ve come so far,” Hoseok would say, his voice gentle but firm. “I’m so proud of you.”
What made Hoseok’s comfort so powerful was that he didn’t treat Jin like he was fragile. Hoseok respected Jin’s independence, always making it clear that while he was there to support him, he didn’t see him as broken. If Jin needed space, Hoseok gave it. If Jin wanted to face something on his own, Hoseok would watch quietly from the sidelines, ready to step in if needed but always giving Jin the room to prove his own resilience.
Hoseok’s overwhelming love wasn’t smothering—it was empowering. There were times during Jin’s worst moments when all he wanted was to disappear, to shrink away from everyone and everything. But Hoseok wouldn’t let him. He’d sit beside Jin, holding his hand or pulling him into a tight hug, and just flood him with so much affection, with so much care, that Jin couldn’t find it in himself to hate who he was.
“You’re not a burden,” Hoseok would whisper whenever Jin’s breaths came too fast, his heart pounding in panic. “You’re incredible. And you’re going to get through this. I believe in you.”
It was in those moments, when Jin felt most like giving up and going back to Hayoon, that Hoseok’s love felt like a lifeline. It wasn’t just the soft words or the reassuring touches—it was the unwavering belief Hoseok had in him. No matter how many times Jin stumbled, Hoseok was there to remind him of his worth. To pull him back from the brink and remind him that he was still whole, still capable of healing, and still worthy of love.
And somehow, that was enough. Enough to stop the spiral. Enough to help Jin breathe again. Enough to remind him that no matter how deep the panic went, he wasn’t facing it alone.
“You’ve got this,” Hoseok would say, his eyes steady and warm. “And even if you don’t feel it right now, I’m here to remind you how incredible you are.”
Jin was worried he could be falling for Hoseok. The thought startled Jin. Could he really be attracted to Hoseok? Could he really be falling for him? And if he was... did that mean he was attracted to men? That realization shook him to his core. He had never thought of himself as anything but straight. He’d dated women, kissed them, fantasized about a future with a girlfriend or wife. He’d always envisioned his life that way—settling down with a nice girl, maybe having kids. That was the script he’d followed for so long. So why, now, was he suddenly so drawn to Hoseok in a way that felt anything but friendly?
The idea unnerved him. He had never questioned his sexuality before, and the fact that he might be feeling something for a man—his best friend no less—was throwing him into unfamiliar, confusing territory. Hoseok was his safe space, his rock, and yet these new feelings were blurring the lines between what Jin thought he knew about himself and what he was actually feeling.
He tried to reason with himself, brushing it off as a result of the trauma. Maybe he was just vulnerable, and his brain was confusing the safety he felt with Hoseok for something romantic. That made sense, right? It wasn’t about attraction—it was about the overwhelming support, the warmth, the way Hoseok held him through his worst moments. Jin knew how much he needed Hoseok right now, and perhaps he was just mistaking that need for something deeper.
But then, why did his heart race whenever Hoseok touched him? Why did he catch himself staring at the curve of Hoseok’s lips or the way his eyes softened when he smiled? Why did it feel so right when Hoseok called him beautiful, like he meant it on a level Jin couldn’t even comprehend?
He tried to shake it off, but the more he thought about it, the more confused he became. Was it really just because of everything Hoseok had done for him? Or had there been other moments in his life when he felt this way but ignored it? Maybe this wasn’t just about Hoseok.
It was unsettling because it wasn’t something Jin had ever allowed himself to think about before. He’d always assumed he was straight. It wasn’t that the idea of being attracted to men repelled him, but he had never given it space to grow—never considered it an option. And now, all of a sudden, there it was, bubbling up at a time when he was at his most vulnerable.
Part of him wondered if this was his trauma talking. Was it just that Hoseok had been his lifeline? Was it because Hoseok had been the one to pull him out of his darkest moments, to hold him through his fears, and reassure him when he couldn’t even reassure himself? Maybe it was natural to feel something deeper for the person who had given him so much.
But then again, why did his feelings for Hoseok feel so… real? So genuine? There was a warmth in Hoseok’s touch that stirred something inside Jin. And it wasn’t just comfort—it was something more, something that tugged at his heart in a way he hadn’t expected. Hoseok wasn’t just helping him heal—he was becoming something else, something more.
Jin wondered if Hoseok noticed. There were days when it felt like Hoseok was looking at him differently too, like when he said “I love you” in that soft, tender voice, or when he held Jin a little tighter than usual. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe it was all in his head. But the thought that it wasn’t… that maybe Hoseok meant it in a way that went beyond friendship… it terrified him.
Jin wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront these feelings, but what he couldn’t deny was that Hoseok made him feel safe. And that was enough for now.
Ready for their plan, Jin and Hoseok were determined now, both of them focused on getting Hayoon to confess. The plan to record a confrontation with her felt risky, but after everything that had happened, it was their best option. Jin insisted he could handle it alone at first—he didn’t want to drag Hoseok any further into the mess. But Hoseok wouldn’t hear it. He begged Jin to let him help, and after a long conversation, Jin finally gave in. They were in this together now, just like Hoseok had promised.
When they arrived at Jin’s apartment, both of them were surprised to find the place spotless after the full month since Jin last set foot inside. The broken glass, the spilled wine, everything from that chaotic night was gone. The place looked almost unnervingly perfect. Hoseok’s eyes darted around, and he made a small sound of realization.
“She must’ve been scared by my little threat,” Hoseok muttered. Jin nodded, but his stomach twisted. She had clearly taken the warning seriously, but he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.
“We have to be careful,” Jin said, his voice tense as they began unpacking the small, discreet cameras. They’d gone through a long process of deciding where to hide them—making sure they wouldn’t be noticeable but still able to capture the conversation from every angle. They couldn’t leave anything to chance.
Hoseok started setting up one in the corner of the living room, carefully positioning it behind a decorative vase. Jin moved toward the kitchen, hiding another small device on top of the refrigerator, tucked away from any easy view. The tension in the air between them was palpable—both men were on edge, hyper-aware of what they were doing and the risks they were taking.
“She really cleaned up everything,” Jin remarked under his breath, glancing around again. “It’s like nothing ever happened.”
“Maybe she’s trying to pretend nothing did,” Hoseok replied, his voice low and cautious. He stood back to examine the placement of the cameras. “We’ve gotta be subtle. One wrong move, and she’ll know something’s up.”
Jin nodded again, heart racing as they moved to check the final placements. He couldn’t shake the overwhelming dread sitting in his chest, but he tried to focus. Hoseok had been his rock through all of this, and now they were about to take the next step. It was terrifying, but it had to be done.
Once all the cameras were hidden, they stood in silence for a moment, both of them taking in the gravity of what they were about to do. Jin ran a hand through his hair, feeling a bead of sweat at his temple. He wasn’t sure how the confrontation would go or if he was even ready to face her again, but at least now he wouldn’t be alone.
After the cameras were set up, and the apartment was spotless as if nothing had ever happened, the weight of the following day’s confrontation settled over them like a heavy cloud. The tension between Jin and Hoseok felt thick, but neither could bear to leave just yet. They decided to stay and have a few drinks, something to calm their nerves. Tomorrow afternoon was coming fast, and with it, the risk and uncertainty of their plan.
Jin poured them both generous shots of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dim light of the apartment.
“Here’s to… I don’t even know what,” Jin muttered, raising his glass with a shaky grin. “Maybe to tomorrow actually working.”
Hoseok clinked his glass against Jin’s. “To that. And to getting you out of this nightmare.” His voice was soft, but Jin could feel the weight of the sentiment behind it. Hoseok had been his rock through all of this, and now that they were on the brink of confronting Hayoon, the emotions were starting to bubble up to the surface.
They downed their drinks, the burn of the alcohol sharp but welcome, and settled back into the couch. A few more drinks followed, and soon enough, the whiskey had done its job—loosening the tension in their muscles, dulling the edge of their fears, and making them more open with each other than either of them usually were.
“I just… I just want this to be over,” Hoseok admitted, staring into his empty glass. His voice was thick, not from the alcohol but from the emotions that had been building up for months. “For you. I hate seeing you like this, hyung.”
Jin’s heart ached at the sincerity in Hoseok’s voice. He wasn’t used to being taken care of like this. He always felt like it was his job to look after the others, not the other way around. But here Hoseok was, going above and beyond to protect him in ways Jin never imagined anyone would.
“I love you, you know,” Jin said, his voice thick with emotion and alcohol. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Hoseok smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, though there was a sadness in them. “I love you too, hyung. You’re my family. I’d do anything for you.”
They kept drinking, the alcohol making them more sentimental with each passing minute. Soon, the conversation drifted into memories—old stories from their trainee days, late-night studio sessions, concerts they thought would never end. It was as if they were both staring down the barrel of a gun, and all they could do was look back on the years they’d spent together, unsure of what would come next.
“You remember that time we got locked in the practice room overnight?” Hoseok asked, grinning lazily as he poured them another drink. “We thought we’d be stuck there forever.”
Jin chuckled. “You freaked out. I had to calm you down by singing some awful trot songs.”
“You saved me with those trot songs,” Hoseok said, laughing softly. “I thought we were gonna die in there.”
They laughed, but the joy was bittersweet, tinged with the nervousness of tomorrow’s confrontation looming over them. Jin’s mind wandered as Hoseok kept talking. He couldn’t stop thinking about how far they had come, how much had changed between them, and how Hoseok had been there for him at his lowest point.
“I don’t think I ever told you this, but you saved me,” Jin said quietly, his eyes glistening as he looked at Hoseok. “When you came to my office that day to confront me, and you didn’t let it go… you saved my life.”
Hoseok’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take Jin’s hand. “I couldn’t let you go through that alone. I never will.”
They sat there in the quiet, holding hands and staring at their empty glasses. The world outside seemed so far away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them—drunk, nostalgic, and scared of what tomorrow would bring.
As the night wore on, Jin and Hoseok eventually ended up on the couch, cuddled together under a blanket. The alcohol had softened the edges of their fears, but it couldn’t completely erase the weight of what they were about to face the next day. Hoseok held Jin close, his arm wrapped protectively around his waist, the warmth of his body grounding them both in the present.
“I swear, hyung,” Hoseok murmured softly into Jin’s ear, his voice low and full of determination. “I’m going to make sure you’re safe, no matter what it takes. I’m not letting her hurt you again.”
Jin sighed, his head resting against Hoseok’s chest, his fingers clutching at the fabric of Hoseok’s shirt as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered. The thought of seeing her again, being in the same room, terrified him. Every time he thought about the rage in her eyes, the way she threw things at him, he could feel his progress slipping through his fingers.
“I’m scared, Hobi,” Jin admitted, his voice shaking. “I’m so scared to be in the same room with her. I don’t know if I can handle it. Every time she hurts me… I hate who I become. I don’t like feeling this weak. I feel like all the work we’ve done, all my progress, it’ll just disappear if it happens again.”
Hoseok tightened his grip on Jin, his fingers threading gently through his hair.
“Hyung, listen to me,” he said firmly. “You’ve come so far. You’ve made so much progress, and I’m so damn proud of you. I won’t let her take that away from you. I won’t let her get close enough to harm you. I promise you, the second anything feels wrong, I’ll stop it. I’ll protect you, no matter what.”
Jin closed his eyes, the comfort of Hoseok’s words sinking in. He believed him. Hoseok had been there every step of the way, through the worst of it. If anyone could keep him safe, it was Hoseok.
“I trust you,” Jin whispered, his voice barely audible. “I just… I don’t trust myself not to break again.”
“You’re stronger than you think,” Hoseok said, his hand soothingly rubbing Jin’s back. “But you don’t have to be strong alone. I’ll be right there with you, okay? You’re never going to face her alone again.”
The weight of Hoseok’s words settled deep in Jin’s heart, easing some of the anxiety gnawing at his chest. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore. And with Hoseok by his side, maybe—just maybe—he could get through this.
Jin leaned his head in, letting it rest gently against Hoseok’s. The steady rhythm of Hoseok’s breathing was a comfort, and for the first time in a long while, Jin felt a little more at peace. As they sat there in silence, Hoseok leaned down and stealthily planted a soft kiss on Jin’s cheek.
Jin giggled, the sound light and unexpected, and he looked up at Hoseok, eyes sparkling with warmth.
“Normally, you’d be freaking out by now,” Hoseok teased, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You used to panic if I even got this close.”
Jin smiled, his heart feeling light for the first time that evening. “I know,” he said softly. “But now, I can’t imagine being without your affection. I need your hugs, your touch… I need you.”
Hoseok’s teasing grin faded into something more tender, his eyes softening as he gazed at Jin. “You know you’ll always have that,” he said quietly.
“I want to be around you all the time now,” Jin continued, his voice earnest. “Every time we’re apart, I miss you. I need to be with you, Hobi. I don’t think I can handle being without you anymore.”
Hoseok’s arms wrapped around Jin a little tighter, the weight of Jin’s words sinking in. He understood. He felt the same way. Jin had become so much more than just a friend he was helping through a difficult time. Their bond had deepened, and Hoseok couldn’t imagine being without him either.
“You won’t be,” Hoseok whispered, his forehead resting against Jin’s. “You’ll never have to be without me.”
Hoseok stared at Jin for a long moment, eyes searching his face as if trying to read every emotion, every thought. And then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed Jin on the lips. At first, it was soft and tentative. Then moments later, it was full of passion, their lips pressing hungrily together as their bodies rocked instinctively closer. A low moan escaped from both of them at separate moments, echoing the intensity of their connection.
But as the kiss deepened, reality began to settle in. Jin’s mind swirled with the sensation of Hoseok’s warmth, but there was an undeniable pang of guilt tugging at him. He was still technically in a relationship, even if that relationship was suffocating and toxic. The thought of Hayoon weighed on him like a cloud, darkening the corners of his mind.
Hoseok, too, seemed to snap out of the moment, his expression shifting from passion to horror. He pulled back slightly, eyes wide and filled with guilt. Jin could see it—the realization that he’d kissed Jin when he was still recovering, still fragile.
“I’m sorry,” Hoseok whispered, his voice trembling slightly, fear and regret mixing in his tone. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” Jin interrupted, his voice shaky but sincere. He reached for Hoseok’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I wanted to.”
But Hoseok didn’t look convinced. The horror in his eyes remained, and Jin could feel the weight of Hoseok’s guilt pressing down between them. He could sense that Hoseok was blaming himself, terrified that he’d crossed a line, that he’d taken advantage of Jin when he was vulnerable.
Jin’s heart ached, not just for himself, but for Hoseok too.
“Hobi, it’s okay,” he said again, more firmly this time, but he could tell the guilt was still there, hanging heavy between them like an unspoken truth.
Jin watched Hoseok disappear down the hallway, saying he was just going to the bathroom. But as the minutes passed, the silence in the room grew heavier. Hoseok had been gone a long time—long enough for Jin to feel the creeping worry gnawing at him. He knew Hoseok was blaming himself. The weight of guilt had been clear in his eyes, the way he left so suddenly… Jin could practically feel the turmoil Hoseok was putting himself through.
And it hurt. Jin felt a sharp pang of guilt in his own chest, knowing Hoseok believed he’d done something wrong, when in reality, it wasn’t like that. Jin had been the one to get romantic first. The touches, the closeness—it had all come naturally. He wasn’t a fragile doll, incapable of making decisions for himself. Even if he was still recovering from everything Hayoon had done to him, that didn’t mean his connection with Hoseok wasn’t real.
Jin stared down at his hands, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Was he ready? Maybe not fully. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted that kiss, that he wasn’t feeling something deep for Hoseok. His recovery wasn’t a straight line, and yeah, maybe pursuing a relationship wasn’t in the cards right now, but he knew what he was feeling for Hoseok wasn’t a mistake.
Even if he wasn’t fully “healthy” yet, Jin could tell this connection wasn’t just about needing comfort. There was something more, something he hadn’t expected to find amid the chaos of his healing. And while he understood why Hoseok might be terrified of overstepping, Jin wanted him to know—he wasn’t too broken to feel love.
He wasn’t too broken to feel loved.
Jin sighed and stood up, determined. He needed to tell Hoseok that. He needed Hoseok to understand. He couldn’t let Hoseok carry the burden of guilt when none of this was his fault.
Hoseok finally emerged from the bathroom, but the moment Jin saw him, he knew something was wrong. Hoseok’s usual warmth seemed dulled, his eyes avoiding Jin’s as he muttered, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Jin’s heart sank. It was like Hoseok had suddenly become a different person. The open, loving Hoseok who had kissed him so tenderly just moments ago had retreated behind a wall. Jin wanted to reassure him, to tell him that everything was fine, that he hadn’t done anything wrong. But before Jin could find the words, Hoseok was already moving away, his voice detached as he said, “We can talk about it another time. But we need to go to bed, we’ve got to be up early tomorrow.”
Jin stood there, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t want to leave things like this, but he also knew how stubborn Hoseok could be. As Hoseok reached out his hand, offering it for Jin to hold, Jin hesitated for a moment before taking it. The gesture wasn’t as full of warmth as it had been earlier, but at least Hoseok wasn’t pulling away from him entirely.
He followed Hoseok out of the room, his hand gripping Hoseok’s tightly. It wasn’t the reassuring comfort he wanted to offer, but at least it was something. Jin was grateful Hoseok hadn’t completely distanced himself, because the thought of sleeping without Hoseok’s arms around him felt unbearable. Hoseok had become his safe space—the one thing that could keep the nightmares and fears at bay.
As they headed to bed, the silence between them felt thick, filled with the unspoken tension of everything that had just happened. Jin’s heart raced, but the warmth of Hoseok’s hand reminded him that, for now, at least, he wasn’t alone. They’d figure this out eventually.
For tonight, he just needed to feel Hoseok by his side.
The next day, Jin and Hoseok were both quiet, weighed down by the looming confrontation. Neither of them spoke much, both consumed by their own racing thoughts. They knew if they didn’t succeed in getting Hayoon to confess, Jin might end up trapped again, forced to stay in the toxic relationship to prevent her from wreaking havoc on the band. Jin thought of it as a compromise, something he might have to do to protect everything they’d built.
But Hoseok? He didn’t see that as an option. To him, there was no scenario where Jin went back to her. Today, they would get rid of her, no matter what it took.
Jin, however, was still terrified. What if Hayoon lashed out and exposed their relationship? Even without her face in the picture, the damage could still be done. That fear—of a single, tiny misstep that could unravel everything—had kept him trapped for so long. It was the reason why he hadn’t left her sooner, constantly worrying about the worst-case scenario.
But now, they had a plan.
Jin and Hoseok quietly moved into position, double-checking the cameras hidden around the apartment. Everything was set. Each angle covered, each detail accounted for. Jin took a deep breath, his nerves threatening to get the better of him. He had to pull himself together—there was no room for hesitation.
Hoseok gave him a firm nod, silently reminding him that he wasn’t alone. They were in this together, ready to confront Hayoon and, with any luck, finally end this nightmare.
Jin steadied himself just as the sound of footsteps approached the door. Hayoon had arrived.
Hayoon entered the apartment with a bright, practiced smile, the kind Jin had seen a thousand times before, the one she used when she wanted to smooth things over before a confrontation. She closed the door softly behind her, her eyes scanning the room like she was taking stock of everything. For a moment, she just stood there, her smile tight, as if waiting for Jin to make the first move.
Jin swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to smile back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey... I know it’s been a while,” he began, his voice shaky but steady enough to carry through the room. “We’ve been so busy with promotions for Butter and Permission to Dance, you know? We’ve been traveling around the world for performances... It's been nonstop since May.”
Hayoon’s smile faltered. She stepped forward, her posture still composed, but there was a sharpness in her eyes now.
“Busy, huh? Too busy to even call?” Her voice was sweet but with an unmistakable edge. “Or are you just trying to avoid me, Jin?”
Jin’s stomach churned as he scrambled to keep his voice calm, gesturing weakly toward the kitchen as if the explanation he was about to offer could somehow dissolve the tension in the air.
“It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “You know how it is with the band. Promotions, performances, schedules... there’s barely been time to breathe. And- and with Hoseok... well, he’s been suspicious. I had to keep my distance for a while to throw him off.”
She raised an eyebrow, her smile slipping into something more sinister. “Suspicious? Of what?”
Jin’s nerves spiked, his palms sweaty as he tried to maintain control. “You know... just... how he gets. He’s been asking questions, getting nosy. I didn’t want to risk him finding out about us. I had to be careful.”
Hayoon’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head slightly, her tone becoming dangerously soft. “And where is Hoseok now?”
Jin felt the knot in his stomach tighten. “He’s at the studio,” he said, forcing himself to meet her gaze, even though it made him feel small. “He doesn’t know I’m home.”
The air in the room felt like it had thickened, each second dragging as Hayoon processed his words. Hoseok, watching through the cameras in Jin’s bedroom, held his breath, his jaw clenched tightly. He could see the tension in Jin’s posture, the nervous way his fingers twitched at his sides, and the way Hayoon’s gaze bore into him, searching for any cracks in his story.
For now, she seemed to buy it, but Hoseok knew this was just the beginning. Hayoon’s expression flickered as if she were shifting between emotions every few seconds, a mixture of satisfaction, frustration, and irritation playing across her face. At first, she seemed appeased by Jin’s explanation, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. But then something in her snapped, and her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flashing with anger.
“Why are you acting so small, Jin?” she spat suddenly, stepping closer to him. “It’s been over a month since that night. You’re still shrinking like I’m some kind of monster. Do you seriously think I would hurt you again?”
Jin flinched at her tone, his body instinctively retreating as if he could make himself disappear into the corner of the room. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His throat felt tight, and he couldn’t force anything past the rising lump of fear lodged there.
Hayoon’s eyes narrowed further, her anger building.
“This—” she gestured between them, her voice dropping to a low, venomous tone “—this is exactly why we’re in this mess. You’re the one who can’t trust me. You’re the one who can’t forgive me. And because of that, Hoseok had to walk into that disaster. You embarrassed me, Jin.”
Jin’s head snapped up slightly at that, but he couldn’t muster a defense. He felt like he was trapped, suffocated by her words, drowning in his own guilt. He had told himself so many times that it was his fault, that he was the one who failed to fix things, and hearing her say it out loud made it all the more real.
“You know what?” she continued, her voice rising. “I was reprimanding you that night, Jin. You deserved it for how you acted. Anyone in my position would’ve done the same thing.” She folded her arms across her chest, glaring down at him as if the blame rested entirely on his shoulders.
Inside the bedroom, Hoseok’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He could see Jin shrinking further, his posture slumping as he absorbed every word like it was the truth. The sight of him folding under her berating stoked a fire in Hoseok’s chest, but he knew better than to storm in. He forced himself to stay quiet, to focus on his breathing, despite the waves of anger crashing through him.
Jin, meanwhile, felt utterly powerless. Hayoon’s words echoed in his head, twisting his guilt tighter and tighter around him. He hated how easily he let her make him feel like this—like he was the problem, like he deserved everything that happened. He hated that he believed her. His eyes flickered toward the floor, his voice barely audible.
“I’m sorry…”
“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” she snapped, cutting him off. “If you had just behaved like a normal boyfriend, none of this would have happened. This is your fault, Jin.”
Hoseok’s stomach turned as he watched Jin shrink further under her accusations. He knew he had to hold out, but seeing Jin so broken, so convinced that her words were true, was agonizing. The camera captured it all—Jin’s shrinking figure, Hayoon’s aggression, and the suffocating atmosphere she was creating. And Hoseok, biting back his rage, reminded himself that this was the proof they needed.
But all he wanted to do was run into that room, pull Jin away from her, and never let her near him again.
Hayoon’s demeanor shifted so suddenly it made Jin’s stomach churn. Her face lit up with a forced, almost manic cheerfulness as she moved closer to him, closing the gap between them until her face was mere inches away. Jin flinched instinctively at her proximity, his body tensing, but she acted as if she didn’t notice. Her eyes glinted with an unsettling mix of sweetness and control.
“You’re going to have to make up for lost time,” she said softly, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet affection. She raised a hand to Jin’s face, ignoring the way he flinched again at her touch. “How much longer are we going to go without you kissing me? It’s been a month, Jin… We haven’t seen each other in so long.”
Jin felt his heart race in his chest, the pressure of her words tightening around him like a noose. He could feel her breath against his skin, and he fought the urge to pull away. His eyes flickered toward the cameras—toward the plan, toward Hoseok, who was watching everything from just a room away.
In the bedroom, Hoseok’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. It took everything in him not to burst into the room and pull Jin away from her. The way she was manipulating Jin, the way she was pushing him so casually into this intimacy when he was so clearly terrified—it made Hoseok sick to his stomach. He had promised Jin that she wouldn’t hurt him again, but this... this felt like it was part of that.
Hoseok’s mind raced. Had this been their whole relationship? Was this what Jin had endured the entire time—forced to kiss her, to sleep with her, just to keep her from getting angry? The thought twisted inside him like a knife. He hated standing back and watching. Hated that this was happening to Jin right now.
But then Jin leaned in ever so slightly, his lips trembling, and Hoseok’s breath caught in his throat. Jin was consenting —as much as anyone could in this situation. This was their plan, wasn’t it? To let her think everything was normal, to make her feel comfortable enough to confess? Hoseok couldn’t let his overprotectiveness get in the way. He couldn’t ruin everything before they even had a chance to gather the evidence they needed.
He took a deep, shaky breath and kept watching, knowing the cameras were still rolling, knowing that every second of this would help them in the end.
Jin’s stomach twisted as he kissed her, doing his best to suppress the revulsion crawling under his skin. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to pull away, but he held himself steady, playing the part, knowing that this was what they needed to do. She could sense it, though—the reluctance in his movements, the lack of warmth.
Hayoon’s eyes narrowed slightly as she pulled back, her voice deceptively soft. “Are you really still mad at me about last time?” Her fingers trailed down his arm. “Come on, at least the wine glass mostly missed you. You barely got hurt.”
Jin fought the nausea rising in his throat. He forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, before he laid his trap. “Yeah. It’s not like the time you threw me down the stairs.”
Hayoon’s lips curved into a half-smile, almost as if they were discussing some trivial matter. “Yes, and you forgave me for that one the next day. Even when it meant you had to miss rehearsal because of your foot getting hurt. So why are things with the wine glass any different?”
Jin’s heart pounded as he saw her slip, casually confessing like it was nothing. He could almost feel Hoseok’s reaction from the other room, though he couldn’t risk glancing toward the hidden cameras. He had to stay focused. She needed to keep talking.
Her tone shifted suddenly, suspicious. “Has Hoseok been talking to you? Saying anything… crazy?” She looked at him closely, her eyes sharp. “Has he been poisoning you against me, making you think things that aren’t true?”
Jin shook his head quickly, his mouth going dry. “No, no… I haven’t talked to Hoseok about the incident. Ever since I lied and said it was my fault, he hasn’t asked again.”
“Good,” she said, though there was a lingering tension in her voice. “Then why are you still acting like you’re afraid of me?”
“I’m not afraid,” Jin said, forcing the words out. “How can I prove it to you?”
Her demeanor softened, but it only made Jin feel worse. She moved closer, her voice lowering to something almost seductive. “We can go to your bedroom,” she whispered. “And you can show me that you’re still happy in this relationship.”
Jin’s blood ran cold. This was her tactic, her method. Every time he started pulling away, every time he showed any resistance or independence, she would demand affection. She’d pressure him into intimacy, regardless of how upset or distant he felt. It was her way of controlling him, of making sure he never had the space to fully step back.
Jin hesitated, trying to keep his voice steady. “I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.”
She stiffened slightly, her smile faltering. “Why not? Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?”
The trap was set, but every second that passed felt like torture. He couldn’t imagine going through with this again, not when Hoseok was just a room away, watching, waiting. If he didn’t play this right, everything could fall apart.
Jin’s heart raced as she grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the bedroom door. His mind scrambled for a way out, panic overtaking him as he realized that Hoseok was still in there, likely hiding just behind the door with the camera feed monitor. If she opened that door, everything would fall apart.
He tried to slow her down, gently tugging back, but she was relentless. Desperation surged through him, and in a moment of impulse, he slapped her hand away from the doorknob. It was light—just enough to stop her movement, but not forceful enough to escalate things. Jin’s breath caught, realizing how easily she could misinterpret it.
But instead of dwelling on it, he immediately forced a smile, playing it off. “You know…” he said quickly, his voice soft and coaxing, “you’ve always wanted to do it in the kitchen, right?”
She paused, narrowing her eyes at him. “You always said no.”
“Well,” Jin said, pulling out every ounce of charm he could muster, “I changed my mind.”
Hayoon hesitated for a moment, and Jin feared she’d see through his facade, but then a small smile curled on her lips. “Really?” she asked, the suspicion in her voice beginning to fade.
“Yeah,” Jin said, nodding eagerly. “Let’s do it in the kitchen.” His hand slid over the small of her back, guiding her away from the bedroom and toward the living room. Relief flooded him as she began to move in the opposite direction.
As they reached the kitchen, Jin could feel his pulse calming, but the weight of what they were doing still bore down on him. Now was his chance—he had to push for more confessions. With Hoseok watching, he needed to get her to incriminate herself further, to prove beyond any doubt that she was a danger to him.
He turned to face her, schooling his features into something soft and vulnerable. “Hayoon,” he began, “about the stairs, and the glass… You know I’ve never blamed you for any of that, right?”
She looked at him with a curious expression, her smile wavering. “You forgave me for that stuff a long time ago. Why are you bringing it up again?”
“I just… I don’t know,” Jin said, his voice trembling slightly, as though he was too afraid to continue. “I guess sometimes I still feel like it was my fault. Like I made you do those things.”
She raised an eyebrow, a hint of irritation seeping into her tone. “Jin, we’ve been through this. If you hadn’t been so difficult, none of it would’ve happened.”
“Right,” he said, nodding slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “But what about the time with the… with the vase?” His voice was shaky, pulling memories of the various times she had hurt him, hoping to lead her into admitting more.
Hayoon’s eyes narrowed, then she laughed lightly, brushing him off. “You tripped on your own, Jin. I didn’t throw that. You were just clumsy—just like with the stairs.” Her tone grew more dismissive, her patience with the topic wearing thin. “If you would just stop being so clumsy, you wouldn’t keep getting hurt.”
Jin’s stomach twisted as he realized how easily she dismissed her actions, how she manipulated each situation to make him the one at fault. He swallowed hard, his mind racing, knowing Hoseok was watching every second, recording every word.
“You’re right,” Jin said softly, “maybe it’s all on me.” But his next words had to be perfect. “But do you ever… I don’t know… worry that one day something might happen, and it’ll be worse? That maybe one day I’ll get hurt in a way that even I can’t explain away?”
Hayoon turned sharply, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Are you saying I’m dangerous? Is that what you’re implying now?”
Jin forced himself to stay calm, keeping his voice low. “No… no, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just trying to understand how we got here.”
Her anger flared, but instead of exploding, she smirked. “You’re just being dramatic. If you could stop being so weak, I wouldn’t have to lose my temper.”
Jin’s pulse hammered in his ears as he stood facing Hayoon in the kitchen, the tension between them thick enough to cut through. He wasn’t in the mood for any of this, least of all pretending to be affectionate when the very thought of her made his skin crawl. He had to keep his composure, but he knew exactly what he had to do. He had to make her mad. He had to make her hit him.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood for sex,” he said, his voice low, strained. “Not after you threw that wine glass at me. You injured me. And you embarrassed me in front of Hoseok.”
Her expression twisted for a split second, but she quickly covered it with a placating smile. “Jin, we’ve been over this. It was an accident, and you forgave me for it. Why are you still bringing it up?”
Jin clenched his jaw, knowing he had to keep going. He needed something more than just words—he needed evidence, something undeniable. The cameras were rolling, and this was his moment. If she lost her temper now, they’d have her confession, and Hoseok would be able to stop things from escalating.
“You need to apologize,” Jin said, his tone sharp, more direct than he’d ever been with her before. He saw her flinch, the subtle shift in her stance telling him she wasn’t used to this kind of defiance. “You’ve hurt me more times than I can count, Hayoon. You’re abusive. You’ve hurt me in ways that no one else ever has, and I refuse to let you meet the rest of the band until you change.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Jin felt the air shift, thickening with an almost palpable tension. But it felt good to be standing up to her. And it was working. He could see it—the subtle hardening of her eyes, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. This was it. He had pushed her too far, and now he just had to hope Hoseok was ready, that he’d make it in time.
Hayoon let out a low, incredulous chuckle, shaking her head as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The smile that spread across her face was chilling, cold and mocking.
“Apologize?” she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You want me to apologize, Jin?” She laughed again, louder this time, as if the idea was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “You think I’m the problem here? You think I’m the one who needs to change?”
Jin’s stomach tightened, but he kept his stance firm. He’d said what he needed to. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for her to snap.
Her smile stretched wider, a chilling expression of triumph, and Jin’s pulse pounded in his ears. She was too far gone to realize she’d just stepped into the trap.
Jin stood rooted to the spot, his pulse racing as Hayoon’s smile widened, her eyes dark with fury. He had pushed her just enough, and now she was going to do exactly what he expected.
She came closer, and without a second of hesitation, her hand flew across his face in a sharp slap. Pain radiated through his cheek, but before he could react, she grabbed his arms, her nails digging into his skin as she raked them down his forearms. Jin winced, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. He could feel the sting of her nails cutting into his flesh, leaving red, angry marks behind.
“If I don’t get to meet them,” she spat, her voice low and menacing, “and you’re so ashamed of me, at least I can leave my mark. How are you going to explain these to your bandmates?”
Before Jin could move, Hayoon used both hands to shove him, her fists pounding into his chest. The force of the impact made him stumble backward, but she stepped forward, closing the distance between them immediately so she could continue her assault. Her hand came down again—another slap, this one harder, more of a punch than a slap.
Jin’s breath caught in his throat as she continued to attack him, her strikes more measured now, hitting him in places where the bruises wouldn’t show. She knew exactly what she was doing, making sure the marks she left would remain hidden from anyone else’s eyes. But this time, something felt different. There was an unbridled rage in her actions, something more dangerous than before.
As her fist connected with his shoulder, Hayoon grabbed him by the collar, yanking him closer. Jin’s heart lurched in his chest as he realized what was about to happen. Her hand pulled back, fingers curled into a tight fist, and he knew in that instant she was going to punch him in the face.
This wasn’t like the other times. This wasn’t going to be something he could brush off or hide. If she hit him in the face, there would be no covering it up, no excuse he could give the company, no lie that would protect her from the truth. For the first time, Jin felt real fear, not just for himself but for how far she was willing to go.
Just as her fist began to swing forward, the door to the bedroom slammed open.
Hoseok.
His voice, filled with fury, boomed across the room.
“Stop!”
Before Hayoon could even register what was happening, Hoseok was already in motion. He moved faster than Jin had ever seen, swooping in and restraining her in a tight, unforgiving grip. His arms wrapped around her, yanking her away from Jin with such force that she stumbled. She struggled, thrashing in Hoseok’s hold, but he held firm. Her fury intensified, and with a surge of strength, she freed herself from his grasp.
The second she was loose, Hayoon whirled around and swung her fist, landing a brutal punch to Hoseok’s neck. The blow knocked the wind out of him, and he staggered, coughing as he struggled to breathe. She stood there, her face twisted in satisfaction, relishing the moment. Jin’s panicked shriek echoed through the room as he watched in horror, his heart plummeting.
Jin had never experienced anything as traumatizing as seeing his abuser attack the person he loved. His feet felt like lead as he hurried toward them, desperate to intervene, to stop whatever was happening. But it was too late.
Hoseok recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination Jin had never seen before. Without hesitation, Hoseok swung back, his fist colliding with Hayoon’s face with a sickening thud. The punch landed squarely on her eye and nose, the force knocking her backward.
Hayoon’s face crumpled in pain as she stumbled, blood quickly beginning to trickle from her nose. She clutched her face, gasping in shock as she backed away, her smug expression vanishing entirely.
Jin stood frozen in place, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The room felt suffocating, the violence unfolding so quickly, so unexpectedly, that his mind couldn’t catch up.
Hoseok didn’t take his eyes off Hayoon, breathing heavily, his entire body tense and coiled, ready to defend Jin from whatever came next.
Not used to someone fighting back, and now in incredible pain from the trauma to her face, Hayoon sat herself down on the ground, clutching her nose, ready to play the victim. Her eyes were wide, a glint of manipulation flashing through them as she spoke, her voice trembling. “Did you really just hit a woman?”
Hoseok stood over her, his chest rising and falling heavily from the adrenaline. He wasn’t the type to get physical—never had been, not in any real sense—but seeing the way she’d hurt Jin, the way she had lashed out at him, something in him snapped. Maybe a small part of him had taken some satisfaction in it, knowing how much this woman had hurt Jin. But his main concern had been to neutralize the threat.
In that moment, she wasn’t a woman deserving of special treatment. She was an abuser, and this was strictly about survival. Hoseok had seen her guard drop, seen her reveling in their distress—first watching Jin crumble, then enjoying that she’d landed a blow on him. She hadn’t noticed in time when Hoseok had recovered enough to strike back, and that was her mistake.
Hoseok’s only thought had been to protect Jin, to make sure she wouldn’t get another chance to hurt him. And so, he’d punched her.
Hoseok could see the shift in her eyes, her attempt to turn the narrative, to make herself look like the victim. But he wasn’t buying it.
“Yes,” Hoseok said, his voice steady and cold. “I hit you. And in case you’re wondering, I don’t regret it. Not at all.”
There was no hesitation in his words. She had hurt Jin for far too long, and Hoseok wasn’t going to let her play the victim now, not after everything she’d done. This wasn’t about guilt or gender; this was about stopping her. And Hoseok was ready to do whatever it took to protect Jin from her, no matter the cost.
Hayoon’s sneer twisted as she held her bruised face, blood trickling slightly from her nose.
“Oh, but now you’re in trouble,” she hissed, wiping at her lip. “You just assaulted me. I’m going to call the police, and let’s see how you both handled that.”
Jin froze, his heart dropping into his stomach. The fear gripped him immediately—just being in his apartment, with Hoseok and a woman who was now bleeding because Hoseok had punched her, it could ruin everything . BTS would be dragged through the mud. The headlines, the damage... it was all Jin could think about.
But Hoseok didn’t flinch. In fact, he looked more confident than ever.
“Go ahead,” Hoseok said, his voice unnervingly calm. “Call them. But before you do, just remember—everything you’ve done is on camera. You assaulted Jin first. You attacked me. I just acted in self-defense.”
Hayoon blinked, thrown off for a second, but then she quickly composed herself, a wicked grin curling at the edges of her mouth.
“You really think you can win that? If I say we were dating and report it as domestic violence, it’ll be all over the news. The world will know Jin was sneaking around, dating me . And let’s not forget, you—” she pointed at Hoseok, her voice laced with venom, “—hit a woman. Think anyone’s gonna care about the details after that?”
Jin’s throat tightened, his mind spinning with panic. The dating scandal , the assault, the media circus that would follow—it’d be a nightmare.
But Hoseok didn’t budge. In fact, he seemed unfazed, his resolve stronger than ever.
“You’re forgetting something,” he said, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone. “You’re on camera abusing a member of BTS. You. An abuser who was dating Jin. You really think you’re going to walk away from that without a scratch?”
Hayoon faltered.
“Yeah, sure, some fans might be upset that Jin was dating you at all,” Hoseok continued, his voice measured, controlled. “But most? Most would be more focused on the fact that you abused him. Support for Jin would pour in from all sides— internationally —even from people who aren’t fans. You’d lose everything, Hayoon. Your life would be ruined. Your businesses? Gone. You’d probably go to jail. Your face would be all over the news as the woman who hurt him.”
He let that hang in the air for a second, watching the panic set into her eyes.
“Your family and friends would be harassed just for knowing you. And you? You’d be hated, publicly shamed, until your life became a living hell. Is that how you want things to go?”
Jin’s eyes widened, realizing how Hoseok had turned the situation on its head. Hoseok was right. The backlash toward them would be nothing compared to what Hayoon would face. The world would stand behind Jin. People would rally around him. And in the end, Hayoon would be the one who lost it all.
The smugness drained from her face, and for the first time, Hayoon looked genuinely scared. “You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t do that.”
“I wouldn’t have to,” Hoseok shot back. “If you didn’t already do this to yourself.”
Hayoon screamed obscenities at them, her voice shrill with defeat, her composure entirely crumbling. Her threats had no weight anymore, and she knew it. All she had left was her fury, and she hurled it at them with everything she had.
Hoseok, standing firm, barely flinched. He let her rant until her voice cracked, and when she finally took a breath, he calmly said, “So how about we settle this quietly with our lawyers and the authorities? We’ll save you a lot of trouble.”
She hesitated, eyeing him warily, but the fear was already there. Her options were dwindling.
Hoseok called the company’s legal team, and within the hour, a lawyer and an off-duty cop—brought in through a friend’s connection—arrived at Jin’s apartment. The atmosphere was tense as the professionals calmly negotiated with Hayoon, who had no choice but to agree to a public restraining order without explanation. The NDA was ironclad, forcing her to keep her mouth shut about the relationship and everything that had happened.
In Korea, a restraining order could be issued for violent behavior without disclosing the intimate details of domestic abuse, which played perfectly into their hands. It allowed them to keep the relationship hidden. They framed the attack as a one-time violent incident from a woman who barely knew Jin, which worked well enough to get her registered as an abuser in the police system. She wouldn’t go to jail with just the confession, but her reputation was likely ruined if people found out about this.
Meanwhile, Jin and Hoseok couldn’t believe how everything had fallen into place. It felt surreal—like they had finally reached the end of a nightmare. After everyone left Jin’s apartment, silence fell over them like a heavy blanket. Neither said a word at first, but the relief was palpable.
Then, without hesitation, Hoseok pulled Jin into the longest, tightest hug he’d ever given him. Jin didn’t resist—he couldn’t. He melted into the embrace, feeling the dam of emotions break as both of them cried. They cried for the pain, the fear, the weight of everything they’d held onto for so long.
At that moment, they weren’t thinking about the legal battle or the looming questions about the future. They were simply two friends, holding each other through the storm, grateful that it was finally over.
In the coming weeks, word leaked that Hayoon had been labeled an abuser, and while her name didn’t explicitly link to Jin’s, the damage was done. Her businesses started to tank, and her public life began to unravel. The rumors spread like wildfire, and soon enough, she was facing a world where her friends and family distanced themselves from her, afraid of the backlash.
Jin and Hoseok couldn’t be happier about her demise, but they agreed that Jin wasn’t ready for the entire band to know what happened. They both let the band believe the lie that some stalker attacked Jin and Hoseok.