The White Tulip - Chapter 1 - duartex - 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys (2024)

Chapter Text

✦ PART ONE ✦

right people, wrong place

He should have seen this coming.
The wind that day was lukewarm but insistent on his face, a pleasant feeling he already misses the moment he gets into the black car and the dark windows blur the view of the sun. Kim Seokjin puts on his sunglasses despite not needing them and thinks he should have seen this coming. Sooner or later that moment would come.

“Do you have tissues?” the voice of Jung Hoseok beside him in the car interrupts his gloomy thoughts. Seokjin turns to look at him. “Why do you want tissues?”

Hoseok stares at him, and although his street-dancer posture is relaxed, the older man recognizes very well the moment when his eyes widen and swell with tears.

“Oh, no, no, Hobi,” Jin grimaces.

“I can't believe I'm finally going to see them again,” the younger man finally exclaims, bursting into an emotional cry. “My children.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “They are not your children.”

“They are, though,” he laments, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. “I have missed them so much.”

“Namjoon is the same age as you,” he deadpans.

“He is seven months younger. He is literally a baby.”

Seokjin shakes his head, surrendering. “You literally saw them a few months ago.”

“But the little ones are finally back. Together. This time for good.”

Seokjin bites his lip to keep from laughing as soon as Hoseok starts sobbing like a newborn. Finally he reaches out a hand and pats him on the back, slightly uncomfortable at that display of melodrama.

“You'll change your mind as soon as Taehyung and Jungkook come back to torture you by invading your house every day.”

“No,” Hoseok sniffs. “I'll make them do whatever they want. And next week Yoongi will also come back and we'll finally be a team gain.”

A sense of trepidation and happiness envelops Seokjin's chest, silencing his anxiety and nervousness for a moment. Hoseok is right. After those last few years of toil, sweat and tears, holding on and trying not to break down, the fateful moment has arrived. BTS is about to reunite. It's not easy to move forward without knowing what things will be like, whether they will be able to get back to the way they were before or whether they will really have to start a new and unprecedented chapter, whether they will regain the complicity they always had or whether age and time apart will have inevitably thinned the thread that has always held them together. But for now, Seokjin tries to enjoy that little ounce of happiness, ignoring the mistakes he has made over the past year.
One out of all that he will soon have to face.

He sighs and gives a small, uncertain smile to Hoseok. “Yes, we will finally be together again.”

Here's how things would go once they reached the military site: there would be a crowd at the edge of safety, ready to welcome the return of the four youngest members of Bangtan Sonyeondan, but they would take a different exit, where they could be greeted by family members and all who had come to welcome them back. The agency crew had warned Seokjin and Hoseok that they would film the moment they met again, but at their signal, they would turn everything off to allow them to relax and finally say hello, away from recordings and cameras. That, to be honest, was the moment Seokjin feared most. In front of the cameras he knew exactly how to behave, with his usual slightly blustery and sarcastic air. Privacy was what terrified him. Being able to be himself was not a concession that made him comfortable that day. He was only reassured by the possibility that Hoseok would make a melodramatic scene, stealing attention.

“We are entering the private area,” the manager sitting next to the driver warns them.
Seokjin nods, Hoseok leans out the window to get a better view of the deserted forecourt where Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook would be arriving any minute.

“We'll wait in the car, the crew is already outside setting up the cameras, as soon as you see the guys coming do as you please”, says one of the managers. “Of course watch out for swearing, and please, Hoseok, try not to cry the whole time.”

Quickly said. Hoseok does not resist.

A few minutes later, when by now the crew is ready and another car peeps into the plaza behind the military camp, Jung Hoseok cannot resist and throws open the car door running with open arms as if in the most melodramatic of drama scenes.
The car stops a few meters from theirs.

Seokjin takes a long breath, closes his eyes to give himself a demeanor. Then slowly opens the car door to get out and start the show.

The wind is lashing hard in his face. It’s more invasive than before, probably because they are in an open field, but the sun is fighting hard in the sky to have its place and warm those below. Seokjin's sunglasses manage to faintly obscure the contrasting colors of the place, the sand-colored ground, the gray buildings in the distance, the bluish sky. Just then his eyes land on the black car Hoseok is racing toward. The side door opens and one by one Taehyung gets out, first, right after Jimin and Jungkook. Finally Namjoon.

The camera crew moves, carefully, around them to film Hoseok's bear hug to each of his companions. From the amused expression of Taehyung, whose hair has begun to grow back, it’s likely that Hoseok has already begun to cry. Seokjin moves toward them, smiling relaxedly. Jungkook sees him and walks over Seokjin, muscular in body but tender in gaze, and hugs him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

“It's over, hyung,” he whispers to him as if trying to convince herself. Seokjin feels the emotion rise back up in his throat and pushes back the tears with an effort. He nods.

“You're back, little boy. Look how cool you are!” he says pulling away from the hug and laughing. “Why do you look better?”

“Don't tell him that or he'll get big-headed,” says a voice behind him. Jimin squeezes his back and with one cheek pressed against Jin's shoulder continues to tease Jungkook. “I don't want to see him for at least a couple of months, it was unbearable to see him being so cool even without hair,” Jimin grumbles jokingly.

Jungkook sticks his tongue out at him and winks at Jin, then reaches out to Hoseok, who continues to squeeze Taehyung.

Then Jin's eyes finally settle on Namjoon, who has so far remained more aloof, staring at him, waiting for his moment to say hello. He's beautiful. He always has been, actually. But now there is a kind of hardness and precision in his features that makes him more masculine and elegant, as if the softness of youth has given way to the sensual roughness of his thirties.Whenever they saw each other again during their military draft years, Namjoon seemed to add to his beauty an aura of mystery and enigma, which increasingly distanced those childish features that had always marked him.

Not that it was necessarily a good or bad thing, Seokjin thought. It was simply different.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

Namjoon smiles. “Hi.”

They stand like this facing each other for a few seconds. Not good for the cameras. Seokjin mentally slurs and with a shrug chases away the discomfort. He spreads his arms wide. “Come here, big guy,” he says.

Namjoon allows himself to be hugged, sighing when his chin rests on Jin's shoulder. “It's good to see you, hyung.”

“Of course it's good, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin laughs playfully. “I am good-looking.”

Yes, that's the way to do it. Fans will love it.

Namjoon tries to play along, smiles while leaving room for his famous dimple, and turns to the cameras for a few seconds, greeting the fans along with Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin.

As soon as one of their managers signals for the cameras to be turned off, the boys remain cheerful - they never pretend in front of fans if they can help it - but decidedly less energetic. Except for Hoseok. He still hasn't stopped crying.

“What's wrong with him?” asks Namjoon, remaining behind him, the amused glances of both of them aimed at their whiny friend.

Seokjin shrugs, indifferent. “I think the distance has driven him crazy. He's gotten it into his head that those are his children and he doesn't want to break away from them anymore.”

“He will spoil them,” Namjoon notes.

Seokjin nods. “And they will take advantage of it.”

In the distance, Jimin rocks a big, bright smile, his deadly weapon.

“Oh, boy will they take advantage,” chuckles Namjoon weakly. After a few seconds observing the others in the distance-including Jungkook showing Hoseok his muscles and the older man cheering ridiculously-Namjoon clears his throat and finally turns to look at Jin.
“What about you?”

Jin looks back at him. “Me what?”

“Have you also gone mad from the distance?”
Namjoon has lowered his voice, making it low and raw, he looks at Seojin with a light of hesitation but also hope in his eyes. The question is not as innocent as it should be.

Seokjin looks away, nervous, and changes the subject. “We should all eat together tonight. We deserve it. My house is the most comfortable and I can cook for everyone.”

Namjoon looks at him and says nothing for a few seconds. Then he nods.
“Sure, gladly.”

“Great.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something. Seokjin stops him—“How are you doing? You're tired, aren't you? Don't worry if you're not feeling up to it, you're of a certain age Namjoon-ah, you don't have the energy you used to have,” Seokjin begins to babble incessantly, as he always does when he's nervous.

“I'm fine, hyung. I'm still younger than you,” Namjoon interrupts him in a playful tone.

Seokjin punches him lightly on the shoulder - wow, has he turned to stone? - pouting. When silence falls again between them, the voices of the others a murmur in the distance, Namjoon looks at him with those well-delineated dragon eyes, the ones that have always driven half the world crazy. They seem to hide a thousand conversations, a thousand silent words. He opens his mouth again, but his voice comes out hesitantly.

“Can we also, like, talk maybe?”

Seokjin stiffens but pretends not to understand.

“I mean...maybe.....” Namjoon brings a hand to the back of his head, showing nervousness and embarrassment, then tilts his head leaning to Seokjin's ear. “Maybe...later...”

Seokjin has to resort to all the strength and survival instinct within him to avoid looking around nervously. He takes a step away and looks away from Namjoon, preventing him from continuing. He points his eyes toward the other boys in the distance and shouts, “Hoseok-ah! Put Jimin down please!”

Ignoring Namjoon's puzzled eyes on him, Seokjin moves as far away from him as possible. And he goes back to breathing.

The boys decide to return to their apartments to put down their belongings and take a shower, intending to meet again a few hours later at Seokjin's house. Hoseok of course has been at the stove by Seokjin’s side for hours, in his large apartment on the top floor of a secluded apartment building in the Gangnam area.

Seokjin cooks a little bit of everything, in the excitement and nervousness of the event: jajangmyeon, japchae, lots of kimchi. His refrigerator is full of beer cans and soju bottles, all of which will surely run out in a few hours.

Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung surprisingly all arrive on time, with more bottles of alcohol, and despite the inevitable dark circles under their eyes due to the day's fatigue, their sweet smiles are enough to push away any kind of Seokjin nervousness.

In no time, Hoseok has already pushed them onto the couch in the living room and is forcing them to read the latest articles about their comeback and fan comments on social media. Giggling and joking, the sound of their voices is one of the most melodic songs Seokjin has heard in recent years.

Leaning with one shoulder on the doorframe, he watches them with tenderness and a feeling of calm and reassurance in his chest. Then, he notices that Namjoon is watching him, the only one not focused with his eyes on the screen.

Feeling his gaze on him, Seokjin lowers his head and clears his throat. “Let's not let it get cold, everything is ready, okay?”

Of course, the chatter doesn't stop even at the table, when the fateful awkward question arrives - the one that has been silently hovering in everyone's head for who knows how long, torturing them and putting them more or less on edge.

“So what now?”

Now that they are back they must face the terror behind that question. Now that the long-awaited Bangtan Sonyeondan reunion is so close, everything becomes real, every dream, every fear, every expectation.

What if the fans are not the same as before? What if they could not surprise them again? To regain that unbreakable bond that has kept them going for more than a decade?
In the eyes of everyone sitting at that table, Seokjin recognizes his own agitated, tumultuous, frightened emotions. But he also finds that excitement again, rediscovers himself thrilled and excited at the thought of being able to bring something new to life with the boys who have been his family.

Even though—well, even though maybe not everything can be the same.

The younger ones leave with a thousand suggestions as they bite into the food prepared by Seokjin and laced with Hoseok's tears (he has only recently stopped being moved every time he thinks about the fact that everyone is back).

“We have to focus everything on choreography!” proposes Jungkook in a big voice, finishing the bottle of soju next to his glass.

“We need to resume singing lessons.”

“...and think about an extreme concept, something we haven't done before.”

“Or repurpose something old.”

“And play the nostalgia card? Nah, we're not old enough”, Taehyung retorts.

“In my opinion, we need to think bigger,” says Jimin with cheeks red from heat and alcohol. “I've often thought about this while we were in military service, I have a few ideas I can tell you about if—”

“Shut up! You literally spent your time during training mulling it over, whining about how much you missed Yoongi-hyung who never got in touch and didn't respond to your messages,” Jungkook teases him, mimicking a grimace of mock pain.

Taehyung, at his side, slaps him on the shoulder so hard he almost spits the food into his mouth.

“Don't tease my best friend, you idiot!” he says with disdain.
“You almost killed me!” cries the younger man shocked, quickly bringing a glass of water to his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“I didn't brood all the time for Yoongi-hyung, I just complained that he wasn't getting in touch!”
“But you also cried.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Namjoon throws up his hands trying to restore order. Failure is just around the corner, and it doesn't help that Hoseok looks at them with the eyes of love without helping Jungkook at all, or that Seokjin crosses his arms over his chest as if to keep himself out of it. When the chaos becomes too much and the dishes are in danger of flying, soiling his beautiful spotless walls, he decides to finally take matters into his own hands.

“Guys,” he tries to say. “Speaking of which…”

Before he can finish his sentence, the doorbell rings and everyone falls silent. They exchange a confused look among themselves, the only one who is not surprised is Seokjin himself — he knows who is on the other side. He gets up from the table and with a grin goes to open the front door.

“Min Yoongi! I told you to text me when you arrived,” Seokjin scolds him affectionately. Hooded and cold, Yoongi removes the mask from his face and rolls his eyes, saying in his low, scratchy voice. “You don't have to be so dramatic every time, you know that right?”

“Yoongi-hyung!” shrieks Taehyung, leaping from his chairs to rush to hug the older man's petite figure.

“Taehyung-ah, let me breathe,” he moans. Of course, Yoongi feigns annoyance, but it’s evident from the smirk pressing on his face that he, too, is extremely happy with that welcome.

Everyone rushes to greet the last missing member of the group – some with a pat on the back, some with a warm hug, some with a more embarrassed (yes, Jimin is still red in the face from Jungkook's public accusations) but equally tender embrace.

“You were the only one missing,” says Namjoon. “We were just talking about the future.”

Yoongi takes a seat at the table with the others, grabbing the first bottle full of soju and pouring himself a glass.

“Yah, let me drink at least a whole bottle first.”

It may have been years since all seven of them last sat down together over food and alcohol, but Seokjin feels as if those days of separation were washed away in a single second. Tired and serene, the boys alternate between anecdotes about their adventures in the military service and gossip they missed while they were away. When Seokjin was away, for example, the launches of the other members' solo albums yielded memorable memories and moments that each of them now shares between laughs. During the year and a half after Hoseok and Seokjin's comeback, on the other hand, there were so many things that the boys had missed — from the disappointing results of Hybe, who had failed to replicate their success, to the unfortunate injuries of some of their idol friends, who were particularly under pressure during their comebacks. The boys tell each other everything they can, moving from one topic to another with an almost adorable eagerness and fury.

Seokjin is lulled by the chatter of the others, letting them bicker and laugh and tease each other while spreading a familiar warmth and energy that he recharges himself with, second by second.

“What about you, hyung?” asks Jimin at one point, turning to Seokjin. “What was it like to be the only one free while the rest of us were all gone?”

“Yeah, that's right! You've been at least four months without us and we don't know anything!” accuses Taehyung pointing a finger at him, visibly tipsy.

Seokjin laughs, but does not immediately respond. This is because a little shiver runs through his spine at the thought of those months. The loneliness, the anxiety of having to face returning first, without really having anyone by his side who can understand him. And then, in particular, here comes what happened when he and Nam — no, best not to think about that now. Already everyone is staring at him curiously, better not to let anything transpire from his gaze.

When he realizes that everyone is staring at him curiously, Seokjin hides his face behind his glass, taking a long sip.

“What is it that you're not telling us?” Taehyung squints his eyes, suspicious.
“What? Nothing,” Seokjin's voice comes out uncertain and doesn't seem to fool anyone. At that point, he snorts audibly and tries to chase away that curious look. “I assure you that nothing happened. Bang PD has done nothing but stress me out about my solo album and I simply told him I'm not feeling it yet,” he shrugs, unconcerned. “That's all.”

None of the boys seem fully convinced, but fortunately they do not insist further. Seokjin mentally thanks himself for raising them all so well.

Soon the conversation returns to what awaits them in the coming days, trying not to weigh down the air or create tension. Yoongi and Namjoon mostly listen amused, their backs relaxed on the backs of their chairs, fatigue visible on their faces in the same way it seems nonexistent on the younger ones.

Seokjin, however, cannot fully banish the thoughts from his head; he wonders how he will deal with what is inside him from now on. Curse him and what they both did. He should have foreseen the consequences and not been so stupid and naive.

What tortures him most, in fact, is the guilt over what he did and the subtle resentment he harbors for himself for not being able to stop himself. It was not the mistake of one time, a voice in his head reminds him. It happened more than once, didn't it? How can he forget it, after all, he still dreams every night about his hands that…

Seokjin stands up abruptly, interrupting the conversation with the squeal of his chair. He no longer knows whether the blush on his cheeks is due to alcohol or embarrassment.

Once again, the others look at him confused.

“I, um, I'll go clean the dishes,” he starts to pick up the cutlery from the table, avoiding the boys' gaze.

“Let us help you!” immediately says Jimin, but is stopped by a hand gesture from Seokjin. “You guys are tired, relax. I'll take care of it and be right back, I swear,” he says imperatively.

His tone seems to work, because no one objects and he manages to defile with most of the dishes, into the kitchen.
Namjoon follows him with his gaze.

...And as the hot water runs through his fingers, Seokjin almost feels as if he can hear his voice in the room. “Are you okay?”

He jerks, sliding a plate into the sink. Apparently he wasn't imagining it. Namjoon is really behind him, with the rest of the dishes in his hands and a desolate expression. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Seokjin returns his gaze with a scowl, then nods his head to indicate that he should set the dishes down next to him. He doesn’t trust his voice, so he chooses not to speak.

Namjoon stands silently beside him, their shoulders barely touching, their gazes distant. They remain silent for a while, the sound of running water and laughter in the distance in the other room the only audible sound.

“Do you need to talk?”

“Do you think Bang PD will summon us soon?” replies Seokjin, but it’s as if he has just deflected the question.

Namjoon frowns as he continues drying dishes. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, clearly uncomfortable (he has been doing this a lot since he was a teenager) and struggling. But it’s a work question, and Seokjin knows well how Namjoon cannot resist when it comes to work. “I suppose he does. I heard from him a few days ago and asked him for at least a few days off to, you know, settle back into civilian life.”
Seokjin nods to himself. “We'll probably talk again next week, he'll want Yoongi to be fully back as well.”

“Are you okay? You seem...tense.”

sh*t, Seokjin now stiffens even more and his nervous giggle is not the best choice not to draw attention to himself.

Then, suddenly, it’s no longer just Namjoon's shoulder brushing against him. Seokjin feels Namjoon shift behind him, the warmth of his tall, imposing body enveloping him from behind. Namjoon's hands grasp his shoulders and slowly slide down his arms, leaving a trail of shivers behind him as his chin grazes his neck and his mouth stops inches from his ears.

“You need to relax, you know?”

Red alert. f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.

Seokjin flinches away, a movement so swift and abrupt that even Namjoon flinches back in surprise, hands in the air as if to reassure that he has no ill intentions.

“What the f*ck, Namjoon? Have you gone crazy?” the voice of Seokjin is of a higher pitch than usual, but the hope is that it has not reached the other room to the point of attracting the attention of the others.

“You've been nervous all day,” Namjoon says with a subtle note of accusation that increases Seokjin's nervousness. Is he serious? “You need to relax.”

“And you need to sleep. You drank too much tonight.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon calls him, seeking contact with his hand but Seokjin escapes. “Jinnie,” he whispers in a low voice. A rush of adrenaline surges through his body at the sound of that nickname and the seductive way Namjoon pronounced it.

Jin shakes his head vigorously, “No, no. The others are in the room next door!” he complains through gritted teeth, throwing fireballs with his gaze at Namjoon. What the hell is going on in his head? How can he think of doing such a thing when...?

Namjoon stiffens, the relaxed, light expression disappearing from his face.
“So I was right. We need to talk.”

“What's there to talk about?”

“Seriously?” Namjoon comes so close that there is no space between their bodies and takes Seokjin's breath away, who takes a small, short breath. He never takes his eyes off Namjoon. “Is this how you're going to play now?”

“I'm not the one playing,” Seokjin glares at him.

“Then why can't we talk?”

“Now? Does this seem to you the right time?”

Namjoon seems on the verge of responding piquantly, but finally chooses to take a long breath, as if the fact that things are not going his way irritates him. He has always been this way, after all. A slightly wayward child trying tooth and nail every day to be more mature.

“You can't avoid me,” he says quietly, calmer.

“I'm not avoiding you.” Namjoon arches an unconvinced eyebrow.

“I'm serious, Namjoon-ah! I'm not avoiding you, but you just came back and—and I don't know, you can't just show up out of the blue like this and—”

“And what?” Namjoon challenges him, approaching him again. “Touch you?”

Seokjin swallows, tense.

“I thought we were past that stage.”

f*cking Kim Namjoon and his alpha-male pheromones totally screw up Seokjin's brain in an instant. When did he start having that effect? Seokjin doesn't even remember anymore.

But Namjoon is right. They need to talk and figure out how to deal now with what they did long ago. More than once.

The words “What do you want from me?” form on Seokjin's tongue, but they never come out of his mouth. Because Jimin's high-pitched voice in the living room interrupts their eye contact and the possibility of Seokjin giving in to making another mess.

“Hyung, bring more bottles of soju please?”

Seokjin clears his throat and steps back, lowering his gaze to compose himself, aware that another single moment in that room with Namjoon's intense gaze on him would be the end.

“Let's go back,” he says. “We'll talk, okay? I promise.” Seokjin tries to sound as reassuring as possible.

Namjoon does not seem very convinced, nor does he seem to have any desire to turn away from him. His gaze continues to have the same intensity, the same dangerous light that makes him so… attractive. But it’s pointless, since Namjoon has long ceased to be the irritating little boy full of dreams and whims, and in Seokjin's eyes he has suddenly revealed himself in all his seductive splendor.

Seokjin isn’t ashamed to admit to himself that if Jimin had not interrupted them, he would have jumped on him within a second. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to be ravaged senseless by Namjoon and moan for him over and over with his hands on his body, like he did well, only months ago. He hoped that seeing him again he would file that memory away and maybe even laugh at what he had done, almost like a slightly strange joke that would stay in the recesses of his head forever. A secret shared only by the two of them, however heavy and uncomfortable. But now he is sure that this will not be the case and this only throws him even more into turmoil.

But he must be lucid, he must be practical and concrete. And, above all, he absolutely must get away from him. As he returns to the living room with a fake smile on his face and hands full of soju bottles, Namjoon behind him, grim as a shadow, Seokjin knows he is screwed.

That night, Seokjin falls face-first onto his mattress and sinks like a stone intro a heavy, numbing sleep. This doesn’t mean that his dreams are not disturbed by twisted, frightening thoughts and images. But the feeling of warm relief, the fresh come back of the boys rolls out before him, unlocks the tension that hums in his veins.They're back. Namjoon is back. He's going to be fine. Right?

The next morning, Seokjin wakes up with his head throbbing from alcohol. He hasn't had that much drinking in months, and considering that he is one of the members who can handle alcohol best, he soon finds himself wondering how the others are doing.Then slowly, as he rolls around in the blankets looking for the right position to lounge around for a few more minutes, Seokjin remembers the message from their manager, received the previous night while the boys were drinking and eating nonstop together.

“He says we have a week's break, time for Yoongi to come back, to rest for a moment before going back to the agency,” Namjoon announced as he looked at his cell phone screen. Soon everyone decided, some shrieking, some laughing, some thinking carefully, that they would use that week to go home to their families.

For Hoseok it was a bad blow, he threatened to cry again, but luckily he calmed down when Yoongi slapped him in the back of the head, reminding him that it is only one week.So now Seokjin has a huge headache and another lonely week off. With immense effort, he gets out of bed and drags himself to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Looking around he still notices the traces left by the boys, a dirty glass, the stain of kimchi on the tablecloth, the echo of their laughter.
It has only been one evening together and yet Seokjin already misses them.

Of course he also feels a slight relief at the idea of having time to think about how to deal with Namjoon, but that does not detract from the fact that the entire morning, until the afternoon, goes on dragging by itself without any particular events. He drinks a lot of water and doesn't eat — he has eaten so much that he will probably have enough for the next few days. He plays video games for a few hours and calls his mother on the phone. “Yes, mom, Jiminie is fine, don't worry” (why is Jimin always a mom's favorite?) “Your son, that's me, is fine too by the way,” he replies sarcastically.

Later that day, Seokjin is summoned to the agency for yet another attempt to convince him to record a solo album. By now, the times that managers, producers, and Bang Si-hyuk himself have tried to convince him to record even one song have become more than the times he has gone fishing. And that's a lot. But by now Seokjin finds it very amusing to imagine how he will reject yet another song without depth that just isn't for him.

Like the one he's listening now, arms crossed as he sits in the armchair of one of his producers' small studio, while a host of assistants watch him in the hope that he will finally give approval and say, “Let's record!”.

The melody is catchy, fun but with a tinge of soul that would fit beautifully with a voice like Taehyung's. Surely not him.

“I'm sorry, but how do you think I can sing it well?” he says with a grimace on his face.

“I don't want to waste your time any further, you don't need to go to such trouble for me,” Seokjin politely addresses the producers.

Beom Seok, one of the agency's longest-serving producers, clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “Listen, Seokjin,” his suspenseful tone seems to show all the difficulty the man has in having to say these words to him. “We've known each other for a long time, and you know very well that I don't want to sound rude, but ... do you still feel like doing this? I mean, are you interested in recording a new song, creating new material? Because, honestly, it seems like you're doing all this on purpose to sabotage our efforts.”

Seokjin gasps in surprise, a flush of embarrassment coloring his face, especially when everyone turns to look at him waiting for his response.

The insinuation causes him a pang of annoyance and irritation. “Of course not! How can you think that?” he begins to gesture, his voice rising an octave. “I'm just waiting for the right project, the right song. Is it a crime to want to get it right?”

He rises from his chair and goes on the defensive. “I'm sorry if I seem erratic, but maybe you should stop looking for songs that don't belong to me— that will save us all some time, don't you think?”

Silence spreads through the room. Seokjin didn't mean to be so rude, but unfortunately when he gets defensive it's hard to hold him back.

“Maybe you should have a better talk with Si-Hyuk,” the producer merely says, before closing the matter.

Jin exits the studio a few minutes later, still upset by Beom Seok's veiled accusation. He has his head set on his feet, which are alternately heavy along the corridor, with a rush of annoyance. It seems absurd to him that he has to hear such bullsh*t, as if he has no desire to put himself back out there and finally present something to the fans.

“Jin?”

Seokjin stops his step instantly and raises his head. In front of him is Namjoon, who looks at him in surprise.

Seokjin is at a loss for words for a moment, he must look like a real idiot as he stares open-mouthed at Namjoon without saying anything.

“Are you okay?”

And then, finally. “What are you doing here?”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, vaguely amused, and Seokjin realizes he has been inappropriate. “I mean—I thought you were back home.”

“You thought or hoped?”

Seokjin glares at him. “You know what I mean.”

Namjoon shrugs. “I have a lot to do and there is no need to go home, my family can visit me here in Seoul.”

“Are you already getting to work?”

“You say that like it's a crime,” Namjoon replies, playful.

Seokjin huddles in his shoulders, looking around. It is so strange to be in Hybe headquarters there with Namjoon. It shouldn't be strange, but it is.

“And anyway, you're here too, and I guess it's not to play video games.”

“You guess right,” Seokjin thinks back to Beom Seok's words and adumbrates.

Namjoon furrows his brow and instinctively approaches him. “You seem upset.”

Seokjin gestures with a hand. “Oh, no, no. I just had a silly argument with the producers. They insist on pitching me songs that have nothing to do with me.”

He looks away from the boy, as if afraid he might read his mind how much the matter actually bothers him.

“I could help you out. Like old times, right?”

There's no such thing as old times anymore.

“It’s—better not.”

“Why?” Namjoon lowers his voice and a light of cunning crosses his eyes. “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but it is too studied a movement to seem believable.
“Aren't you?” he murmurs.

Namjoon blinks. He seems taken aback by his sincerity. He takes a step back, then shakes his head. “I don't want to.”
Seokjin nods. “Yeah, me too.”

They remain silent, a silence that is unclear whether it’s pregnant with tension or comfortable. Neither of them can tell the difference anymore.

“I'd better go before someone else tries to pitch me an English pop song I don't even understand the meaning of,” he cuts in, giving a small smile.

Namjoon nods, watches him turn his back and walk away. But before he can disappear around a corner of the hallway, he calls to him. Seokjin turns around, waiting.

“Call if you need me, okay? It’s… it’s always me.”

There is something deep and intense in those words. Namjoon has always had an unsettling way of being blunt and sincere. Seokjin recognizes the almost warrior-like firmness of his gaze. And the only thing can do is smile and nod at him.
Yeah, It’s him again.

Back from the gym, where he has been trying to blow off the day's tension and thoughts, Seokjin is more than happy to take a call from Hoseok and have him talk nonstop and without really needing to actively participate in the discussion. It's not that Hoseok is necessarily talkative or annoying; on the contrary, he is one of the most pleasant people to talk to. But lately Seokjin has the impression that he has become particularly clingy toward members, and right now his attachment is more than welcome in Seokjin's head and ears.

In that brisk, cheerful voice he is telling him about his latest compulsive purchases and all the accessories and clothing he has found himself buying more for others than for himself. “I came out of the store, and when I rushed to my car I saw the bag and thought, this is Taehyung's,” he laughs loudly. “I would never use it. Yet I bought it without thinking, you know?”

Seokjin shakes his head to himself as he enters the elevator of his apartment building.

“You're impossible, Hoseok-ah,” he chuckles as he fixes his tousled, damp hair and reflects himself in the mirror.
“I know, but it didn't end there. Once I realized, I rummaged through the bags of other purchases and started laughing like an idiot there. There was a beanie for Jungkook, a neck pillow for Jiminie, a T-shirt for Yoongi, and even a book for Joonie! A book, hyung. I don't even read!”

“And nothing for me?” Seokjin feigns indignation.

“Hyung,” Hoseok complains. “For the past few months I've showered you with gifts!”

“Even too many.”

“That's my love language.”

“Well, it's obvious,” exclaims Seokjin playfully, throwing himself down on the living room sofa and releasing a sigh. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I'm with my dancers friends,” over the past year Hoseok had been reacquainting himself with old street dance friends and deepening new ones through the making of his only album.

“Oh, right,” says Seokjin, thoughtfully.

“You can join us if you want!”

Seokjin shakes his head, even though Hoseok cannot see him “Nah, thanks but I think I'll cook something and then go to bed early.” A thread of disappointment resonates in his brain. Is he turning into a friendless hermit? When was the last time he saw his old non-famous friends again and went camping with them? Before he left for military service, that's when.

“Wait, we have a call from the group with members,” Hoseok suddenly exclaims, bringing him back to the present with his head.

Seokjin pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the screen. Video call coming in. He closes the conversation with Hoseok and accepts the video call.

His silent living room is immediately invaded by thunderous laughter. Laughter that continues for a long minute, without Seokjin understanding the reason.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook chuckles in response, without adding anything else. From the phone screen, in a small frame, Seokjin sees Namjoon and Yoongi sharing his own confused expression.

“Does anyone want to explain?” asks Yoongi, annoyed.

Jimin stops laughing. “Taehyung posted on Weverse. He asked the fans if they have a lopsided butt too.”

“Taehyung! You can't just ask people that,” shouts Namjoon shocked.

“I can't?”

“f*cking no.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He is not sorry, not even a little. Seokjin also bursts out laughing. They are all busy, in their rooms, ready to have dinner or meet some friends they haven't seen in a long time. Jungkook plans to see his brother again, while Jimin and Taehyung will spend the evening with their families. Yoongi has returned late from work but plans to work on new music with a producer friend of his.

Everyone seems to have plans, and Seokjin is a bit demoralized by the fact that not even twenty-four hours after their return, no one seems to really have a hard time getting back to their former life.

“I need to get ready, but we can keep talking in the meantime,” Taehyung proposes, moving his camera to move freely toward his closet. The others also begin to do things while chatting as if they were all in the same room together, and Seokjin feels compelled to get up from the sofa and not be the only one motionless. He goes to the kitchen, places his phone on the counter, and starts cutting carrots while listening to the others' chatter in the background.

“Why don't you believe me? Did I tell you that I have become an excellent cook?”

“I'm sorry, Jungkookie, but until you cook for me, your superpower doesn't exist,” Taehyung hums.
“And you, who have been swaggering around so much, what is it that you have learned?” interjects Jimin.

“Nothing. But lots of new friends.”

Seokjin snorts amusedly, drawing attention to himself. “Bribing soldiers is not making friends, Taehyungie.”

“Shut up, hyung! I'm already planning to do reunions with them—You haven't kept in touch with your old enlisted comrades?”

“Leave him alone, Jin-hyung is a lonely old man now. Even Yoongi-hyung has more of a social life than him!” jokes Jungkook.

“What do we know? Maybe he has his secrets his plans,” says Hoseok.

“Jin-hyung? He'll probably spend all night playing and sleeping.”

Embarrassment colors his cheeks and makes him stammer. He does not like to be the center of attention, and even less does he like to be the center of teasing from the younger members. The point is that on another occasion, Seokjin would not be offended by those words, because he knows that others tease affectionately, without any cruelty. But there is a part of him that feels stung to the core, a sense of anguish pervades his chest.

At more than 30 years old, he is eating alone in his kitchen, and although he could afford anything, he feels locked in a bubble that he cannot burst.

Therefore, with a silly excuse, he greets the others ready to continue their evenings shortly afterwards and closes the video call.

He sags a little, sitting and hunched over his plate, surrounded only by the sound of chopsticks and his mouth chewing his food. Why doesn't he do anything? He begins to wonder where he has ended up himself.

At that moment, the screen of his cell phone lights up and out of the corner of his eye he reads a text message notification.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon.

Seokjin stands with his chopsticks in midair, staring at the screen on the table and the message in the foreground for an interminable minute.

The thing is, when he is confused, bitter, and maybe even a little afraid of himself, well, that's when Seokjin makes the worst decisions. He grabs his phone and rereads Namjoon's unread message one last time before replying, without much thought, a simple answer. A reply he will continue to stare at for the next half hour, with nothing else populating his head but the folly of what he has done.

Are you coming to my house?

Forty minutes later, Seokjin opens the door to his apartment. On the threshold, Namjoon is a sight for sore eyes. He is wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans that bandage his long legs, giving him a much more casual look than usual. He wears prescription glasses and his hair is tousled and damp, as if he has just gotten out of the shower. Seokjin thinks he looks so young. And he looks so hot.

“You came,” he says simply.

“You called.”

“I actually texted but—”

Namjoon doesn't let him finish, crossing the threshold with a long stride and pouncing on Seokjin's lips. The impact is of such strength that it forces Seokjin to retreat a few steps and cling to Namjoon's neck to keep his balance. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezes it, and musses it vigorously, eliciting a sigh from Namjoon.
“Are you sure about this?” whispers Namjoon on his lips. He doesn’t answer, stares at him for a few seconds then lays his eyes on his full lips. He kisses him, not trusting his words, not trusting what he might say. So they return to devour each other's lips, Namjoon's big, warm hands on his hips giving him a sense of stability.

“Why do you have to be so hot?” murmurs Seokjin perhaps more to himself. Nevertheless, Namjoon heard him and lets out a laugh in the kiss. Seokjin groans even more excitedly; he can already feel the hardness in his pants.
“I'm literally dressed like a bum.”

“A hot bum.”

Seokjin backs away, dragging Namjoon's statuesque body with him toward his bedroom, licking his lips at the idea of being able to undress him and explore his bare chest.

“Today,” Namjoon gasps, closing the door behind him with a kick, “I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Seokjin literally feels his heart in his chest take a run-up and run hard as if it were a marathon.
“You shouldn't say sh*t like that.”

“Why?” Namjoon sneers and reaches down with one hand slowly to the traitorous bulge in Seokjin's pants. “Does it turn you on?”

“You've been watching too much p*rn,” Seokjin observes, sarcastically.

Namjoon stops kissing him only to stare into his eyes as he pulls his t-shirt and slides it off his body. “You like that.”

“I guess I can't complain. You must have learned a thing or two of great interest.”

Damn, if he did. Namjoon really knows how to use his hands, knows exactly where to press and where to brush. Like when it comes to undressing him. He doesn't just grab his clothes and throw them away - no - Namjoon slowly takes to unbuttoning every single button of his shirt, not taking his eyes off him and making everything painfully more attractive and exciting. He takes his time, almost as if Seokjin were one of those paintings that he keeps in his apartment, one of those he reveals with his eyes, layer by layer, with deep admiration. Yes, the way Namjoon worships him is one of the reasons why Seokjin seems to have totally lost control.

When they are both shirtless, they take to unbuttoning their pants -- for Seokjin it is just a matter of lowering them -- each other, like two teenagers in trepidation. Namjoon chuckles in amusem*nt when they find themselves entwined in a very unsexy way, as if they were playing wrestling. Seokjin, for his part, does not stop searching for his lips. He believes that if he keeps kissing him senselessly, he won't have to think about anything else, and no evil little voice will ask him what he's up to.

“What are we doing?” whispers Namjoon on his lips, his voice hoarse and weak. Namjoon doesn't answer right away, stops moving frantically and places his hands around his waist.

“I don't know,” he admits. “But do you want to stop?”

Seokjin already knows what the answer is. He shakes his head, inebriated. “No.”

“Neither do I.”

Namjoon gently pushes him onto the bed, where Seokjin lands on his elbows, flattered by the boy's gaze on his body.

Immediately they resume kissing - god, Seokjin loves kisses, the quick ones, the languid ones, the sweet ones and the violent ones. Kissing Namjoon's big, plump lips is definitely a plus. As his mouth takes to caressing his neck, then his adam's apple, and again his broad, stiff shoulders, Namjoon's hand descends to Seokjin's boxers, playing with the hem of the fabric and teasing his belly with the touch of his fingers. “How do you...” begins Namjoon by reaching down with his mouth and looking at Seokjin through his eyebrows “…have such smooth skin? I could caress it for hours,” he murmurs on his chest. Namjoon's breath on his skin is a pleasant tickle that would make him laugh if he were not paralyzed by the thrill of his touches.

“I can recommend a perfect body cream,” he whispers sarcastically.

“Yes, maybe later.”

With a sudden movement, Namjoon grabs the boxers and quickly pulls them off Seokjin's legs, eliciting a small squeal of surprise from him. Seokjin already has the right expletive against him on the tip of his tongue, when a gentle pressure on his co*ck soon makes him forget what it is he wanted to say. Namjoon's big, warm hand turns on Seokjin's body, his breathing becomes short, and talking becomes a godlike task.

Noticing the silent reaction from the boy, Namjoon stretches out one side of his mouth, smugly, and begins to tease him, taunting him for seconds that seem like endless torture. But Seokjin has no intention of giving in and voicing his desires. And, mercifully, Namjoon soon realizes that he will never win with him. For now.

He removes his hand, earning a grimace of disappointment from Seokjin, then slowly lowers his head to approach his erect co*ck.

Seokjin stops breathing.

“Can I take it in my mouth?”

“sh*t, are you kidding me?” No, Namjoon is deadly serious.

“Yes, please.” How is this so arousing? The fact that he is surrendering to him the power to say yes or no, to control the situation, sends a trail of shivers down Seokjin's body, who at that point would be able to grant him anything.

Namjoon grasps his co*ck again, this time more gently, but he doesn't look at it for a second. His eyes are on Seokjin, on every microreaction the boy can have to his gentle but firm touch. Even when he opens his mouth and slowly begins to taste and lick the head with his tongue, his eyes never leave him. And there is no shadow of embarrassment or discomfort in Seokjin, he loves to be watched — he loves to be watched as he arches his back and opens his mouth to moan at the contact with Namjoon's hot mouth. He is a real exhibitionist, sue him. He is also very loud: one thing Seokjin loves is to control Namjoon's rhythm through his sighs and moans. Whenever sounds of pleasure come out of his throat, Namjoon goes lower and lower and increases the pace, in reaction to the other's pleasure. They both feel in control of each other and perhaps that is what makes them so compatible. They both believe they have the power, knowing in their hearts that they do not.

Namjoon tilts his head to explore every inch of his co*ck and Seokjin's body begins to shake. He feels his muscles contract, the tingling on the soles of his feet, the sensation of floating. “I'm going to cum,” he gasps, his eyes wide with worry that it will all be over so quickly. In response, Namjoon pulls away with a pop, but immediately replaces his mouth with his hand so as not to leave Seokjin unsatisfied.
He looks at him and smiles innocently. “Not so fast,” he says.

Seokjin lowers his eyes and follows Namjoon's movement as he begins to stroke the neglected bulge in his pants with one hand. He must be in pain. Seokjin wonders if he, too, behind that façade of patience and calm, is actually screaming to get to the edge, to the pinnacle of everything.

“I’d offer to give you a hand but I'm too selfish,” Seokjin murmurs sarcastically.
Namjoon shakes his head and makes an offended grimace, then releases himself from his pants, finishes undressing Seokjin, and finally returns to him, noses touching, mouths seeking each other.

“You're f*cking cute,” Namjoon says out of the blue, so serious that Seokjin finds himself slightly widening his eyes in surprise. “I know you hear this all the time, but I think it's a duty as an admirer of art to repeat it to you.”

Seokjin shushes him by grabbing his lips with his teeth and gently biting his flesh. With a hand on the nape of his neck he pulls him close, sucking greedily on his mouth.

That damn mouth.
After that, he abruptly pulls away, licks his lips and says decisively, “I want to be on top.”

Namjoon exhales a breath, as if he is still processing that last kiss and his brain has slowed down. “At your command.”

Seokjin takes control by pushing him onto the mattress and surrounding Namjoon's muscular hips and thighs with his legs. Now that he is on top of him, he is able to breathe freely again, enjoying the sight of that beautiful boy with his eyes clouded with arousal. He would still be watching him like this for hours if it weren't for the fact that his co*ck is sending shivers of alarm and cries for help.

“Lube and condom?”

“I—” Seokjin suddenly panics. “I don't have any condoms.”
The terror in his eyes is not reflected in Namjoon's who simply says. “Well – i kinda… I don't need them. If you’re okay with it. I mean, there was no one after you.”

“Oh,” Seokjin says simply. “I haven't had anyone either.”

A flash crosses Namjoon's eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin merely nods, but quickly looks away because he cannot handle the intensity of Namjoon’s gaze. “Let me get the lube then,” he says awkwardly reaching for the cabinet next to the bed to open the last drawer and rummage through his things.
“I can work on that if you prefer.”

Seokjin finally finds the small bottle and returns his eyes to Namjoon. “Yes, maybe next time I'll let you enjoy yourself,” he teases him. “We don't have time now.”

Namjoon chuckles, but the laughter soon subsides as soon as Seokjin fills his palm with lube and begins to rub his hands together in a magnetic motion. When Seokjin's hands reach Namjoon's erect co*ck, the boy shudders and lets out a sigh of pleasure. Seokjin smiles and proud of that reaction starts working on the skin and flesh to see him enjoy it.

“You are torturing me,” whispers Namjoon.

“It's my favorite job.”

“You little bastard.”

Seokjin continues to work his hand up and down until it’s slippery and pulsing enough to be ready to welcome him inside. The mere sight makes him salivate.

Namjoon squeezes the flesh of his butt cheeks as a clear silent signal to invite him to move and place his co*ck between his legs. And as soon as the tip grazes Seokjin's entrance, it’s his turn to let a sigh of pleasure escape.

Namjoon is big, but more importantly so hot that he shivers from the sensation. Seokjin doesn’t go down immediately, but lets the sensation fully invade him a little at a time. Second by second, however, it becomes unbearable, and Seokjin realizes too late that he has arched his back and bent his head back, moaning unashamedly.

“That good?” Namjoon asks with a grin.

Seokjin rolls his eyes back, partly from the feeling of ecstasy, partly from the other's unbearable arrogance. “Arrogance is not sexy, you know?”

Seokjin pushes his own body to adjust Namjoon's full length inside him. He takes his time and does not rush things, but the result is incredible. In no time they both release sounds and faint approvals. It cannot be possible to feel so good next to someone, it is frightening.

“Why don't we do this all the time?” groans Namjoon.

He doesn't have an answer, but even if he did he couldn't form any words other than a guttural sound, due to the growing knot that builds thrust after thrust inside him.

“I think—ah,” he tries. He fails. Seokjin bites his lip violently to stop himself from moaning loudly, but Namjoon notices and out of spite begins to meet his thrusts, increasing Seokjin's breathing and arousal.

“Don't. Don't hold back.” And he obeys, perhaps because he wouldn’t know otherwise.

It takes a little longer before, in the silence of the room filled only with their panting and moaning.

“Tell me,” Namjoon says in a low, hoarse voice. “How do I feel inside you?”

“So-so good.” Is Namjoon losing his mind too? Because Seokjin believes he can go crazy with pleasure and enjoyment, he would be able to say or do anything to keep feeling it inside him.

Namjoon makes a daring movement, sitting up to kiss Seokjin, who doesn’t interrupt the increasingly frantic movement. Their pelvises continue to meet more and more aggressively, along with their moans.

“Come, Jinnie” he whispers low to him as if it were an order. “Come for me”.

Seokjin doesn't let him say it twice. He relaxes his muscles, and with a moan higher than the others and his head arched back, he comes seeing stars and riding out his org*sm until Namjoon follows close behind a few seconds later. The bodily fluid on their chests is the veiled memory of a slowly fading sensation. What is it that gives them that vibrant, passionate, erotic energy when their bodies are so entwined together?

Seokjin no longer has the strength to do anything but slump on the bed and try to regulate his breathing. He closes his eyes, because it’s easier to calm his raging heart if he does not look at the cause of those emotions.

He feels the mattress sagging at his side under the weight of Namjoon flanking him very close. They remain silent for a while, and Seokjin could not be more grateful. Silence should be revered on certain occasions.

When he finally feels that he has gathered enough strength to control his breathing, he opens his eyes. Namjoon is already looking at him, without any particular expression, and it’s almost comforting to have that kind of look on him. A look that says nothing, but is there nonetheless.

Then, Namjoon pushes a lose strand of hair behind his ear and just stares at him.
“I see you,” he says out of the blue.

“What?”

“I see the gears of your brain moving relentlessly to make sense of things. Don't.”

Seokjin snorts, perhaps annoyed by the way Namjoon seems to know him so well.

“It's not that easy.”

“It is more than you think.”

Seokjin sighs loudly. “What are we doing, Namjoon-ah?”

The question is more than legitimate, Seokjin thinks. The stakes are much higher than what they are gaining. Because what exactly is it that they are gaining? It's not like they suddenly have feelings for each other. Ten years of friendship and complicity do not dissolve into romantic love. Seokjin knows that love is a social construct. So they are putting everything on the line for a f*ck. Sure, a record-breaking f*ck, one that probably not even in his innermost dreams exists. But still nothing more than a sexual tension. Perhaps age is to blame. Almost certainly it’s the fault of what they have gone through in recent years, the separation for Seokjin and Namjoon must have turned into some kind of perverse need for each other. But it’s depressing, and Seokjin would not want to be reduced to that.

“Can we—” Namjoon's voice is hesitant, suddenly small. “Can we stop thinking? At least for a while?”

“For a while?”

“For a few days?” ventures Namjoon with a half-smile.

And he is so tender, with those dimples softening his cheeks, and those dragon eyes that seem to hold all the light in the world.Seokjin knows he should say no, send him away and set the record straight once and for all. But the damage is done now, isn't it? What difference does it make if they spend another hour or another day together, locked in that room? What really changes?

“Okay. Until the others come back,” Seokjin agrees, knowing that he has, after all, no other choice.

They f*ck all days and nights. Everywhere. In the bedroom, of course, but also on the carpet in the living room, in the kitchen. Seokjin thinks he can't get enough, but if they keep this up their bodies probably won't recover for the next few days, maybe months. It depends a lot on how hard Namjoon pushes inside him.

Sometimes Seokjin is frightened by his thoughts. For example, one morning when he has awakened strangely too early for his liking, Namjoon's arm weighing down on his chest and his breath brushing against his neck, like a koala clinging to his body, Seokjin thinks that there, between them, between the passion that unites them and upsets them, must be the origin of all things.

They spend most of their time locked in his apartment, as if they are both afraid to step outside and discover reality. They eat takeout when Seokjin doesn't feel like cooking, watch funny videos, and sometimes end up bickering or teasing each other about the most absurd things, like old memories of their group years.

“Everyone here says I look like John Lennon,” Seokjin bursts out laughing at Namjoon's frowning, pouty face as he points to a photo of himself on the web. Effectively, the round glasses, long hair, and dazed look have turned the BTS leader into a meme with the Beatles' leader. But who would Seokjin be? Paul McCartney? Ringo Starr? No, a cruel voice in his head suggests the name Yoko Ono. The intruder. The outsider.

Ignoring the shadow on his face, Namjoon continues to joke around by bringing up anecdotes and old videos with which Seokjin tries to distract himself, commenting unstoppably.

“It was 2017! You can't hold it against me that I was embarrassed by a kiss on the cheek during a promotional program.”

Seokjin starts laughing again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You seemed disgusted by the idea.”

“You were no less. You kept shouting 'why me’ at Yoongi!”

Namjoon joins in Seokjin's laughter, then calmer, tells him, “Tell me the truth. That's where you discovered that you liked men.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “You wish.”
Sometimes their conversations get more intense, deeper.

“Then when?” asks Namjoon more seriously, resting his head on his palm with a relaxed look. “When did you realize you liked men?”

Seokjin ponders for a few seconds, then shakes his shoulders. “I don't know. It simply happened. I never thought about who I liked. We never had the time, if you think about it.”

Namjoon blinks. “Have you had...” he leaves the question hanging, but when he realizes Seokjin has no intention of answering it without him finishing, he takes courage and repeats. “Have you had many people?”

“More than the fans think, less than you think.”

“I'm not judging.”

“I don't think you do,” Seokjin gives a relaxed little smile and turns his gaze toward the window to his right.
Of course, as days go by, they ignore each other’s phone texts in the group chat in the same way a child lowers his head guilty of stealing candy.

At least until something happens that changes everything.

The others announced that they are back in town that night and wanted to have a drink together. With a weight on their hearts, both Seokjin and Namjoon silently agreed to make up an excuse and decline the invitation, with anguish tightening in their throats and a reminder that they will soon have to come back to reality and figure out how to deal with the strange thing that has become their sex relationship.

It’s now past midnight and Seokjin is twisted between Namjoon's sheets and legs and he has been staring into his eyes for a few minutes. They say nothing to each other, they don't need to because over the years they have developed that strange way of being comfortable in silence.

Seokjin closes his eyes still feeling Namjoon's gaze on him, and he is slowly fading away when the sudden sound of his phone jerks him up in bed. Seokjin reaches out an arm in an automatic gesture to bring the phone screen closer.
The first thing he notices is the time: it’s 00:13. The second thing he notices is Taehyung's name, incoming call.

Seokjin frowns and instinctively turns the phone around so Namjoon can see the screen. The boy shrugs silently, leaving him with the choice of answering or ignoring.

For some strange reason, Seokjin thinks it's odd to get a call from Taehyung at that hour, because despite everything, he too has limits. So vaguely alarmed he responds with a simple, “What?”

Seokjin's heart hammers harder and harder in his chest, the sound of Taehyung's crying coming to him muffled. What on earth could possibly be going on? Seokjin mentally goes through all the terrible possibilities: someone got hurt, someone had a fight, where are the others? Are they there with him?

“I screwed up. Please—please—” the boy sobs. “I'm with the others, we need you. I can't get a hold of Namjoon. C-can you come to my house?”

Seokjin lays his gaze on Namjoon, who has no idea what is going on, but his forehead is furrowed in confusion. He takes a long breath. “Okay, little boy, take a deep breath. I'll be right there, okay? Don't worry. Calm down.”

The one who will not calm down, for the time being, is Seokjin himself. Why is Taehyung crying and why haven't the others taken the time to explain something to him over the phone?
What the f*ck is going on?

He and Namjoon decide to knock on the door of Taehyung's apartment without putting time distance on their arrival, too nervous to care that they have arrived together. As soon as Yoongi opens the apartment door with a serious face and vaguely relieved to see them, Seokjin is assured that this is no joke. It must be serious business if all members have been summoned now.

But what they find in the living room seconds later is pure chaos.

Before taking the floor, Seokjin and Namjoon pause at the threshold to study the scene to gather some preliminary information.

First, Taehyung is still crying softly, looking down, in a corner of the room more isolated from the others.. According to that, Seokjin guesses that therefore everything must have started with him.

Hoseok is sitting on the sofa, his face hidden behind his hands and his elbows resting on his knees to emphasize his tiredness. Yoongi is at his side, his face as impassive as ever, but his posture mock-relaxed. He is looking intently.... Jimin.

Jimin is standing with his jaw clenched, fists tight along his sides, and a fiery gaze aimed at Taehyung. Jungkook, obviously stressed, occupies the space separating the blond from the brunette, almost unconsciously.

Bingo. Seokjin thinks he has figured it out. Something has happened between Taehyung and Jimin.

It's Namjoon, however, who is the first to speak. He clears his throat and says: “Well? What's going on? None of you better have been caught smoking around again. I don't want to deal with new scandals to cover up.”
It had happened more than once in the past few years, and Namjoon had to deal with reproaches from the agency and managers to protect and defend the others.

He lays his gaze on each of them looking for an answer. Seokjin shakes his head, aware that he needs to take matters into his own hands. He steps forward toward Taehyung and puts his hands on his hips, noisily tapping his foot on the ground.

“What did you do Taehyung?”
Slowly, the boy raises his eyes swollen with tears, his lower lip beginning to tremble. sh*t, thinks Seokjin. It could become a very long night at this rate.

“He's a f*cking traitor!” bursts out Jimin behind him, anger flushing his face.
“Jimin—” Yoongi warns him.

“What? I’m right,” he shouts angrily.

“Hyung—” Jungkook tries to calm him down as soon as Jimin takes a heavy step toward Taehyung.

“Is someone starting to f*cking talk?” Namjoon raises his voice. “I feel like I'm in kindergarten. What's going on?”

“I was looking for a sweatshirt in Taehyung's drawers because I was cold and I found this,” Jimin waves a couple of crumpled papers in his hands.
Frowning, Namjoon grabs the papers and scans them. The curiosity on his face turns to confusion, and after a few seconds Seokjin approaches him to read the contents.
“He received a proposal to join another agency as a soloist!” shouts Jimin.
“I had no intention of signing, I already told you!” finally Taehyung replies to Jimin, raising his voice and pouting.

“Then why didn't you throw them out?” spits Jimin agitatedly.

Seokjin continues to read the documents. It’s a very lucrative contract proposal as a solo artist from a new agency that has reaped several successes in the past few years, the years they have been on hiatus. They're trying to buy Taehyung.
“I told you, I don't know. I forgot them,” Taehyung sobs.

“You shouldn't have even accepted the idea!”

“This is so stupid, Jimin, what—”

“Jimin is right, though. Why didn't you even tell us about it?” asks Yoongi quietly.
Hoseok rolls his eyes to turn to the boy at his side. “Stop taking Jimin's side. He's clearly overreacting.”
“What?” Yoongi straightens his back by moving it away from the sofa. “It's obviously something that upsets him, isn't it? Doesn't that upset you too?”

“Hyung, I swear, I would never consider leaving you,” Taehyung continues terrified. Jungkook approaches him and pats his shoulder gently.

He turns around addressing Jimin. “This is Taehyung-hyung we're talking about. Do you really have the nerve to accuse him of such a thing?” the younger man looks deeply distressed, his eyes wide and big as they are when he receives a rebuke he doesn't think he deserves.

“Shut up, Jungkook!” exclaims Jimin venomously. “You've probably also received some proposal that you're hiding somewhere.”

Jungkook gapes. “What?”
“You're crossing the line, Jimin. You're being cruel as usual!” shouts Taehyung at him, almost more upset by the accusations against the younger man than those against himself.

“I'm just trying to understand! Why did you have those papers in the drawer? Why didn't you tear them out right away and tell us so we could laugh at the absurdity of it?” Jimin explodes in a sharp tone.

“And why can't you put aside your damn insecurities by accusing me? I already f*cking told you. I wasn't even going to think about it!”

“Shut your mouths now. Everyone!” shouts Namjoon as thunder silences the sound of rain. Suddenly everyone stops talking, startled by the authoritative tone with which their leader has drawn attention.

Seokjin turns to look at Namjoon, surprised by that sternness, by the fury that seems to run through his gaze. “We're a f*cking team” he thunders. “We are not like others, no matter what the rest of the world says. We are us precisely because we are united. Because we communicate even when it's hard. Let's not start becoming like everyone else just now.”

Namjoon's words land with a thud in everyone's ears and hearts. No one dares to breathe, no one dares to move a muscle. As usual, he is right.

“Guys,” Seokjin cuts the silence carefully. Here now comes the kinder, quieter voice of reason. The balance between him and Namjoon is achieved. “Namjoon is right. We are not like that. We don't yell at each other accusing each other without honest confrontation.” Seokjin feels like a bit of a hypocrite uttering those words, nevertheless he continues. “I know we're all a little tense and bewildered, but if we can't trust each other, what's left? Jimin, take a deep breath. Taehyung, stop crying. You guys are indestructible okay? You are not alone.”

Hoseok nods silently approvingly at Seokjin's speech. Jimin and Taehyung look into each other's eyes, as if no one else exists in the room anymore, for an interminable minute. Seokjin assumes it’s their way of talking; it would not surprise him to discover that these two are able to communicate through thought, given the bond between them.

When it’s evident that the tension has slowly begun to dissipate, Jimin sags a little. He is so small at that moment, so fragile.

Then, he turns to Taehyung and he says, “I'm sorry I yelled at you, okay?” his voice, calmer, begins to tremble. He seems on the verge of tears himself. “I got scared, you know how nervous I am these days, afraid of everything. And I was hurt because, of all people, the fact that you might be hiding something from me kills me.”

Jimin has always been the most anxious of all by nature. Even more so than Seokjin himself, who still manages well to mask worry behind sarcasm and levity. So he can very well understand the boy, the sudden panic attack that must have seized him when he discovered those papers. Likewise, his anxiety has no foundation. Taehyung is a boy devoid of malice when it comes to the people he loves, and Seokjin has no doubt that there is no ulterior motive.
The blame, of course, lies with the tension that has pervaded them for some time now. Seokjin should have seen this coming. They are all, more or less, afraid of the future and their anxieties, so it was almost natural for something like this to happen.

Perhaps, however, Seokjin did not expect it so soon.
At that point, Taehyung got up from his chair and walked over to Jimin, murmuring in a low voice. “You know I would never leave you, right Jiminie?” Jimin's eyes fill with tears. It's about to happen—“You are my soulmate,” and it does. Jimin bursts into tears and, like a baby, closes the distance to Taehyung by jumping into his arms like a sticky koala.

“We can't afford these things right now, you know? I-I can't bear it. The idea of losing you—all, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that,” he murmurs over his shoulder, the words muffled yet easily recognizable.

Jungkook exhales a sigh of relief as Hoseok jumps up and runs to embrace Jimin and Taehyung, enclosing them in his bubble of brimfulness.

Before long, the tension seems just an old memory, and detaching Jimin from Taehyung seems an impossible task. They continue to apologize to each other, intertwining their hands even as they decide together to have a drink and end the evening on a high note.

But a sense of anguish weighs in Seokjin's chest as he inevitably finds his mind flying back to the last few days. What's going on with Namjoon is inevitably something that would end up upsetting, if not wreaking havoc, in the group. They would never accept it, not at this time in their lives, not while they are all so poised on the edge of a knife.
Seokjin feels so guilty. How could he, indeed how could they, be so reckless?

When everyone later decides to go back to their homes - except Jimin, who has chosen to sleep with Taehyung for that evening - Seokjin and Namjoon entertain themselves for a few more minutes, both of them aware that they have arrived together and don't know how to justify it, now that the chaos no longer occupies the minds of others. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook take a cab, tired, and Namjoon waves them off, reminding them of the agency appointment scheduled in two days.

After that, he and Seokjin reach the car and stand there, not hinting at wanting to enter the vehicle. Seokjin stares at Namjoon who is looking at his feet, shifting the weight of his legs nervously. He does not know precisely what is going through his mind when he says, determined, “We have to stop.”

Namjoon jerks his head up to look at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means that...” he gestures to the space between the two of them “...this cannot continue.”

Namjoon falls silent, his intense gaze piercing Seokjin's body.
“You saw what happened in there, didn't you? We can't do that to them.”
“That doesn't concern them,” Namjoon replies, cuttingly.

“You know that's not true. What I did—what we are doing is wrong. It doesn't make sense, it has no motivation,” Seokjin stumbles over the words, struggling to make sense of them in his head. “I shouldn't be the reasonable one among the two, Joon-ah.”
“I don't want to be reasonable,” Namjoon sighs and runs a hand through his hair, which has begun to stretch again. “I—I like you.”

Seokjin sucks in a sharp breath

“Of course you like me, Namjoon-ah,” he whispers suddenly breathlessly. “We have been a family for ten years, if not I will be offended.” Efforts to lighten his tone are to no avail. Namjoon continues to stare at him intensely, almost sternly.
“You know what I mean.”

Seokjin's heart inadvertently makes a deep thud, hiding in who knows what part of his bowels. The light wind around them seems to take a sudden lash. Suddenly Seokjin cannot breathe. A thought runs through his head. He clears his throat.

“You know Yoko Ono?”
Namjoon blinks. “John Lennon's wife?”
He nods slowly. “She ruined everything. It was the end for the Beatles,” Seokjin says.

“I know the story, but what the f*ck does that have to do with this?”

Seokjin sighs. “I don't want to be the Yoko Ono of this whole story.”

“You're literally part of the group. How is that you're Yoko Ono and not me?”

“Do you want to be Yoko Ono?”

Namjoon gapes. “What the f*ck, Jin!”

The mask of stress and shock falls over Namjoon like a barrier; he seems on the verge of screaming hysterically.

As much as it breaks his heart to continue, Seokjin must get to the point. He must remember the risks.

“Look, we all know who they're going to side with if this comes out. You're the leader, they all need you. But me? Yes, they love me but it could have been anyone. It just happened to be me.”
Namjoon widens his eyes and stands speechless. “Do you really think that, Jin? Where did that thought come from?”

“Never mind,” he gestures. “It's not important.”
“It is,” Namjoon takes a few steps toward him, wedging Seokjin between his body and the machine. He suddenly can't f*cking breathe. “Something's wrong, it's been like this since you came back from military service, maybe even before. What's going on in your head? Why are you saying these senseless things?”

Seokjin can hear is heart pounding in his chest. His throat is dry, nevertheless he can murmur, “Have you seen Jimin? Have you seen Taehyung? What about the others? Do you really want them to panic? Do you want them to deal with this thing, whatever it is, between us, when even we don't know what it is? You can't be so arrogant.”

Namjoon scoffs in disbelief. “Is it so arrogant to want something of my own? Something that doesn't change with the wind? Something that stands and doesn't crumble, that I don't have to define immediately just because others want it?”

Seokjin holds his breath as he feels Namjoon's frustration hit him like a wave of energy throughout his body. He can see in his eyes the deep desire to break out of a crystal cage, that thin veil that crosses his eyes when he lets it escape, and shows him how much his role in the group weighs on him.
But he is not the one who can change that. Nothing can.
Seokjin swallows, feeling the weight of his next words. “Yes, it is,” he whispers. “I'm sorry, but I won't let our team down. And you cannot be so immature as to want to upset the already unstable balance of our group, our family, just so you can get laid. We are friends, Namjoon. What happened doesn't have to mean anything.”

Even he does not seem convinced by his own words. But what is worse is the flash of pain that crosses Namjoon's dragon eyes.

“Oh.” he can see Namjoon’s face harden as he realizes and processes his words. Seokjin has just wounded him cruelly, giving him the coup de grace. He will never forgive himself. And he doesn't even know if it has hurt Namjoon or himself more.

Now Namjoon has an unusual mask of indifference on his face. Seokjin is f*cking terrified of it. “Now I understand.”

What? What has he understood, Seokjin would like to ask him, that even he cannot comprehend? Stuck between his body and in his intimidating gaze, Seokjin chokes in an attempt to find his own breath. Why does he have to cut him off with his eyes? Why must he suddenly stare at him as if something between them has broken?

“I'm sorry, it was my fault, I shouldn't have-” Seokjin whispers.

“I'm not a puppet. You don't have that much power over me,” Namjoon replies, annoyed by the insinuation.

“Give yourself time, you will prove me right,” Seokjin struggles to say in a thin, almost inaudible voice.

Namjoon shakes his head, the laughter that comes out of his mouth is chilling.

“You’re just a coward,” he tells him coldly before turning his back on him and walking away into the darkness of the night, his hands in his pants pockets, his shoulders hunched, but his head held high. Seokjin feels many things that night: tired, angry, distressed, confused. None of these feelings go away as the sun comes up.

Seokjin is really a coward because two days later he calls the agency to tell them he’s sick and miss the group appointment. The best choice is to connect by video call with the office where Bang PD, managers, and the rest of the members are meeting that day to discuss the work and their return. The air in the room seems very playful and relaxed, everyone is very happy to be back in there, and Seokjin feels a twinge of guilt prickle in his belly at the thought of deserting the meeting because...well, sue him, he's a f*cking coward. The idea of facing Namjoon and sensing the tension between them would have eaten him up. It's for the best to stay away from the others for once.

“We should talk about more adult things,” Jungkook is saying when broaching the topic of new music and the question 'what are your inspirations now’ comes up.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Just because you talked about getting laid in your solo album doesn't mean you're an adult now, Jungkook-ah.”

“At least I talked about it.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “And we haven't?”

“We never talked about sex in our songs,” Jimin comments with a furrowed brow.

Namjoon gapes at him. “I always talked about sex. Did you ever hear hyung's lyrics?” he points a finger at Yoongi.

“Calm down kids,” Bang PD brings attention back to himself, vaguely embarrassed by the direction that conversation has taken. The man clears his throat and brings his hands to his round chest before announcing, “You will have time to discuss this, but right now we already have a proposal for you. A plan that we hope you will enthusiastically accept.”

Intrigued by the announcement, Seokjin instinctively brings his face closer to the computer camera to hear better. Curiosity seems to be the most common expression on the others' faces as well, as far as he can see from the small square on the screen.

“Since you have just arrived and Yoongi also officially finished his community service yesterday, we think it would be more effective to combine the useful with the pleasant.”The man nods to one of the managers, who approaches with a packet of papers. Bang Si-Hyuk lays the papers on the table and slides them toward Namjoon, who in an automatic gesture immediately rushes over to read what is written.

“What?” Jungkook stretches his neck to peek at the papers. “What are we going to do?” Jimin and Hoseok cannot resist and reach behind Namjoon's back, reacting immediately. Again, Seokjin gnaws at not being there with them and having the same natural reaction.
“Does someone want to explain to me, too?” The question dawns on him, followed by a fake cough. sh*t, he has to pretend better that he's sick or they'll notice.

“Oh my—Yesss”, Taehyung starts clapping his hands and prancing around the room, humming, “Let's go on vacation, let's go on vacation.”

Seokjin gapes, surprised. “Meaning?”

“In The f*cking Soop 3 baby!”

Bang Si-Hyuk coughs. “I'm pretty sure that's not its name, Kim Taehyung.”

Jimin sneers, but soon joins in his enthusiasm.

“But yes, we would like to start with one of the fan-favorite programs and, as I recall, one of your favorites too.”
“But when? And where? For how long?” Jungkook storms the staff with questions.

The cheerful, relaxed atmosphere comes at Seokjin like a wall, a filter from which he cannot fully enjoy the positive energy. For the umpteenth time since that meeting began, the boy regrets not being there in attendance.

“It will take at least a month to organize everything. Take a break, go back to doing live shows, provoke the fans and make them feel your presence but not overdo it. You need to get yourselves together and be ready to come back at your best. You will film the show for a week, maybe 10 days. You will have a chance to reveal everything the fans have missed about you. And—” the man pauses, turning to the camera, towards Seokjin. “Seokjin will be able to work on his music. It would be nice to merge the program and suggest the arrival of your solo album, wouldn't it?”
Seokjin's smile falters. He tries not to flinch, but inside a whirlwind begins to shake his heart. f*ck. Bang PD is totally setting him up.

“And maybe Namjoon or Yoongi can help you with the creative process, right?”

Namjoon, who has remained silent so far, looks up, pointing at the screen where Seokjin is framed. Even though there are miles separating them, Seokjin can feel the heavy weight of his gaze on him. After a few seconds of pause, he shrugs and says, “Sure, why not?”
Seokjin nods slowly and repeats, “Yeah, why not.”

He strains a smile, but one huge thought resonates in his brain: he is totally screwed.

That very afternoon, Yoongi and Jimin are the first to visit him, concerned about him missing the meeting. Jimin has brought him soup and is trafficking in his kitchen to warm it up for him, while Yoongi claims that his incredible presence will have to be enough for him to get better. Sitting with him on the couch, he fills him in on the post-meeting details when the video call with Seokjin was interrupted and the others left.

“What do you think of this idea then?” asks Yoongi sprawled out on his couch.

Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe it's the best way to come back?”

“You don't seem convinced.”

“Are you?”

This time it is Yoongi's turn to shrug. “I think it's a smart way to get us started again slowly, without overdoing it.”

Seokjin seems to reflect on it, then nods. “Yeah, at least they didn't ask us to go back to the studio to record as early as tomorrow,” he comments to himself.

Yoongi turns to look at him without saying anything, in that annoying way he has of speaking without actually saying a word.

“Right.”

Yoongi nods. “I know you're bluffing. But unlike the others, I won't push you to talk. I'll just tell you that if you need to, you can talk to me. I won't even answer you if you want,” Seokjin lets out a chuckle. “But I'm serious, hyung. If something has happened in the past year—if someone or something has upset you, you'll have to tell us sooner or later.”

“It's just that I'm a little confused,” he downplays with a wave of his hand and a huge pang of guilt in his chest.

“About what?”
About Namjoon. About me.

“About what's going to happen.”

“Are you afraid because of the pressure the agency is putting on you about your solo album? You know that Namjoon and I will end up writing new songs, and as soon as our album is ready, Si-hyuk will stop torturing you.”

Seokjin massages his temples and lets out a sigh of relief as he feels his nervousness ease. “Yeah, you're definitely right.”

“We are all confused,” a voice intrudes into the room, revealing the presence of Jimin with a hot bowl of soup in his hands. Seokjin straightens his back and accepts it with a gentle smile from the younger man's hands. Jimin looks at him seriously. “We all have our ups and downs, don't we? Look at me, I'm the king of mood swings,” chuckles the blond, sitting down next to Yoongi. “But what do we usually do? We talk about it and ease each other's anxieties off our chests. You taught me that.”

Seokjin feigns a shocked face and brings a hand to his mouth, shifting his eyes to Yoongi. “We raised him so well, Yoongi.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and snorts, but Yoongi sneers in amusem*nt. “I think it will be good for us to be together again next month.”

Seokjn tastes the soup and nods silently at Jimin's words. Out of the blue he grimaces. “What we haven't taught you well yet is how to cook,” he declares with a grimace on his face that soon turns into a grin.

Seokjin promises Yoongi and Jimin not to disappear. Although they have a month of freedom, it’s different for him. He has been free for almost a year and all that freedom is actually suffocating. Hoseok also finished his period of military service long ago, but it has always been easier for him to be in the world. Because Hoseok can never sit still, he needs to move, and Seokjin assumes it’s due to his tireless dancer nature.
It's different for him; for months now, everything he does doesn't seem to have a specific purpose. Even going fishing with his older brother or playing video games has become an uninviting pastime.

Seokjin still thinks he should talk to Namjoon, but he is too afraid to do so. He knows the boy would be able to change his mind, shock him with his words, and maybe make him give in again. That is, if Namjoon wants to talk to him, of course. There is a big chance that the younger man hates him now and is contemplating avoiding him in the kindest way possible in the future. The thought destroys Seokjin and sends him back into a paranoid spiral of guilt: he slipped into a mistake because he was too weak, on leave, while Namjoon was too frail, ready to enlist. He should not have kissed him that time. He should not have slept with him. More than once during their free time. But it happened.

Nevertheless, he hates even more not having been able to clarify with him now, breaking up (what did they really break anyway?) in such a rancorous and hasty way. How do they expect to pretend on camera?

Okay, Seokjin majored in acting, but he's not that good.

To chase away all that unbearable flood of thoughts, Seokjin finally decides to accept the invitation of two old friends to have a drink that night. Maybe a little alcohol will put everything to rest.

He is increasingly convinced of this as he reaches the second bottle of soju, when the laughter comes out easy and the chatter around him becomes a more amusing murmur than usual. As time goes by, Seokjin is glad to be out, glad that his friends have taken him to a crowded but discreet place where he can blend in with the lights, music, and mind-muddling liquor. No one will disturb him that night.

Well, no one with invasive intentions, at least. Because someone is trying not covertly to get his attention.
It took Seokjin a while to notice, but there is a guy at the bar of the club who has been staring at him for some time, and as soon as he crosses his gaze, he waves his glass at him, to greet him confidently. Seokjin would like to snort, but there is a tingle in his lower abdomen that disagrees. The boy is attractive, has small but intense eyes, an imposing jaw, and mussed hair that gives him a messy look.

Fogged with alcohol, Seokjin smiles at him, then turns and goes back to talking to his friends about the frustrations of work. They all think he has none, being the millionaire superstar that he is. If they knew how much paranoia surrounds Seokjin's work, they would make fun of him. They would tell him to shut up, that his problems are not real problems, and they would be partly right. But they wouldn't understand, so he just gives advice and inserts himself into the conversation now and then, leaving it to the alcohol that keeps flowing down his throat in the meantime.

At one point he apologizes and gets up to go to the bathroom. When he is in front of the mirror in the deserted bathroom, washing his hands, he is surprised to see the stranger who was staring at him languidly just before walking in. Seokjin looks at him for a moment through the mirror, then takes to ignoring him, despite clearly feeling his gaze on him.

“I was looking at you earlier,” the stranger says out of the blue.

“I noticed.”

The young man leans his back against the sink, crosses his arms, swaggering. “So you were looking at me, too?”

Seokjin gives a half smile. He shuts off the tap water and dries his hands. “Why? What would it mean if I was looking at you?”

The stranger returns the smile and tilts his head in an almost trivial attempt to seduce him. “It would mean that maybe you were thinking what I'm thinking.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“That you are beautiful and I would love to kiss you.”

Seokjin shrugs and walks out of the bathroom. The stranger follows him and, even more swaggering, grabs his forearm, forcing him to turn around. One look is enough and there is nothing more to say. Seokjin's lips are on his in no time.

The stranger reacts immediately, grabbing his face and forcing him back until Seokjin's back touches the time-worn wall of the club. The young man continues to kiss him greedily, touching him everywhere, but it’s not the right touch. This young man doesn't ask him if he feels good, doesn’t ask his permission for every single thing, making him feel in control.

Seokjin thinks of Namjoon's hands, so warm and wide and able to take him to places he did not know. This guy's hands don't even come close to that paradise. But Seokjin thinks he deserves it. The comparison is bastard and reminds him how dangerous it was to get close to something he could not have.

Seokjin releases a sound that the stranger takes for pleasure, his mind wanders distracted. The hallway is deserted, but the music has gotten louder; anyone could walk by. All too late, a thought crosses Seokjin's mind. Does that stranger know who he is? sh*t, the whole world probably knows who he is, yet people would be surprised at how many Koreans cannot recognize Kim Seokjin's face, even though they probably have it stuck on the label of their favorite ramen or the box of their room purifier. Alcohol confuses his head, and only when the stranger's hands descend on the flap of his pants and unbutton the first button does Seokjin flinch away, coming to his senses.

What is going through his mind? What if someone sees him now?

The stranger looks at him confused, his lips swollen and wet from kisses. “Is everything all right?” Good question. Seokin would love to have the answer. He finally shakes his head, embarrassment taking over the effect of alcohol.

“I'm sorry, I have to go.”

He doesn't wait for an answer. Seokjin turns and runs off to disperse in the crowd.

He doesn’t go back to his friends; he will send them a message once he gets home.
For now all that matters is getting some air and chasing away the strange and nagging guilt that grips him.

Pull yourself together idiot, he thinks as he takes long breaths of air and walks out with a mask over his face. The lights of Seoul prevent him from finding stars in the sky, nevertheless Seokjin walks with his head up with the distressing feeling that, if he put it down, he would end up vomiting not only the alcohol but also the ugliness he feels inside.

Therefore, the next day Seokjin decides to visit his brother and his family on Jeju Island for a few days. Perhaps for a few weeks. Spending time with his grandchildren proves to be a boon, as those innocent little creatures seem to be the only ones who do not ask him with a confused frown what is wrong with him.

His brother has welcomed him with open arms, giving him the freedom to do whatever he wants and spend time with him, his wife, and his two children, but he clearly wonders why Seokjin suddenly chose to visit. Fortunately, he does not ask any questions, perhaps because he knows well that Seokjin would end up making some silly joke without giving any honest answer.

He occasionally responds to some texts of memes on the team group chat, sends emoji to comment on Taehyung’s pictures at the gym trying to imitate Jungkook. They are all busy enjoying their quiet weeks waiting to return for the filming of the new season of In The Soop. To keep them happy, he also sometimes sends photos of his grandchildren or the delicious food his brother's wife cooked for him. But otherwise, he is not very active.

One evening, however, caught in loneliness after putting his grandchildren to bed, Seokjin stumbles across one of their children's books and impulsively opens his private chat with Namjoon to send him a picture of the cover – a ridiculous illustration of a tree talking to children to teach them facts about nature.
He is not quite sure what is going through his mind when he writes, to tease him,

“Tell me the truth, did you read this one too?”

Needless to say, he regrets what he did in the same instant he presses send. The text sent seems to magnify before his eyes, coming to life and teasing him for that impulsive choice. Making matters worse is the ticking clock and the message that goes unanswered. Namjoon apparently views the message but does not respond for what seems like endless minutes. Just when Seokjin decides to huff, close his eyes, and throw his phone as far away as possible at the foot of the bed, lo and behold the screen lights up with a text notification. With surprising speed, Seokjin picks up the phone again and brings it very close to his eyes to make sure he is not hallucinating.

FROM: Joonie

I haven't read it. Do you recommend it?

A little too challenging for my taste, haha

FROM: Joonie

Hyung. Why did you write to me?

Seokjin stares at the screen, a little bit confused.

FROM: Jinnie

Can't I?

FROM: Joonie

But why?

FROM: Jinnie

It’s just I'm sorry. We haven't talked anymore and… I don't know how things are going to go now… for us I mean.

FROM: Joonie

They'll go the way they're supposed to go. Don't worry about it.

FROM: Jinnie

Are you going to be fine?

FROM: Joonie

I'm already fine ;)

Seokjin wonders if this is really the case. Whether Namjoon has come to his senses and gotten over everything already and maybe he has blown it out of proportion.

FROM: Jinnie

Okay.

End of conversation.

There is a knock on the door. His brother Seokjoong's head appears on the threshold. He smiles at him. “Would you like a beer?”

Seokjin nods and follows him. Once on the terrace, with the moon high and bright in the sky and the beers in their hands, they stand for a while in silence, as they used to do since childhood. Despite their playful and cheerful nature, Seokjin has always found it curious how he and his brother are able to remain in each other's company without saying anything. Even If from the way Seokjoong nervously wiggles his foot, it’s clear that actually that invitation is not just for the purpose of simply drinking in company. And indeed, after a few more minutes…

“Something is troubling you.” It’s not a question, an observation. Seokjin turns around feigning indignation.

“Can't I visit you without an ulterior motive?”

“Of course you can. But I know you, there's something on your mind.”

Seokjin shrugs, the only gesture that comes easy to him. “It's nothing.”

“Then talk to me.”

He can't. He wouldn't know where to start or what precisely to say. That's the problem.

“It must be serious, if you don't even want to talk about it.”

“It's not about the work,” Seokjin explains. It’s partly a lie, of course, but it is mainly the truth.

“I didn't think so,” Seokjoong retorts. “Work has never made you make that fishy face”.

“Something happened. With someone. And it wasn't supposed to happen.”

Seokjoong nods slowly. “I figured as much.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Did you?”

His brother grimaces. “You have a complicated relationship with your feelings, we all know that.”

“Shut up,” Seokjin sulks.

“All right. But you talk.”

He will never let him go, he thinks. If he doesn't at least give him some answers, if he doesn't feed his curiosity or whatever it is, Seokjin will never rest during these weeks. And maybe a part of him, the part that tickles in his head right now, thinks it wouldn't hurt to put his thoughts into words. To try to tidy them up.

“It's just ... what happened was a mistake and I don't want this to create problems for the team and our reputation.”
Seokjoong frowns. “Why? You came out to them years ago and they never seemed to give you any trouble.”

“It's not about my sexuality,” Seokjin hastens to say, worried. Never would he want anyone to think that his best friends, his second family, do not accept his hom*osexuality. They do, of course. sh*t, right after he came out, Jimin even baked him terrible rainbow-colored cupcakes and Taehyung wrote him a poem about how he was now the most beautiful gay man in the whole world. Okay, not the most natural reaction. But it's Jimin and Taehyung, and they should be taken as they are.

“It's about who the other person is.”

“Oh,” the brother simply comments. After cashing in on that clarification, Seokjoong nods as if he has finally realized something.
“It's complicated and there's nothing more to say.”

“Is it really that complicated or are you the one who is afraid that it’s simpler than it is?”

Seokjin turns sharply to look at his brother, with a nervous frown. “What the f*ck does that mean?”
“It means you're an idiot who always pretends not to be afraid of anything, but you're the scariest puss* I know,” he teases him.

Then, without saying anything Seokjoong walks up to his brother and in a gesture meant to be tender musses his soft hair with one hand. Seokjin shooes him away feigning annoyance.
“Just remember, it's never complicated who you like, what is complicated is the way you like them, Jinnie.”

Shut up, Seokjin would like to tell him in a piqued tone. But in the end he resists, feeling it would be a losing game. So he stays silent and finishes his beer, immediately putting aside his brother's words before they begin to take root in his head.

The weeks passed slowly, but Seokjin finally found a balance, a way to relax and be purposeful. He has studied the arrangements for departure and is packing up to leave that morning. The private villa in the mountains will be the same as in the second season, which is a nice way to find themselves in a place that has been theirs before.
The group chat has been going crazy since last night; Seokjin had to mute it to get a few hours of sleep. Hoseok and Taehyung have done nothing but ask and exchange advice on what to bring. Jungkook and Yoongi teased them, Jimin only responded with a thousand emoji. Namjoon was silent the whole time. It’s okay.

If anyone asked him, “What is it like to finally return to work with your lifelong friends,” Seokjin would now reply, “A f*cking nightmare.”

Not because anything has changed between them; on the contrary. The time they spent apart seems only a distant memory, and all seven of them are back more or less hovering in the same ecosystem, under that bubble people always found enviable. But here's the thing: being back together means many things, including the chaotic hubbub of the group's youngest members, the constant bickering between Taehyung and Jimin, Jungkook's attempts to draw attention with physical contact or pranks. Hoseok's endless chatter about life, Yoongi's endless chatter about music (who dared to say Min Yoongi talks little?). And of course there is Namjoon. Namjoon whom Seokjin thought about far too much during their month-long break, in which they barely saw each other once, during a group dinner. As soon as he arrived at headquarters and met his gaze, Namjoon greeted him with an awkward hug and looked into his eyes for something indefinite. Perhaps a word, a reassurance, a certainty. He found only the usual Namjoon, the affable, awkward and kind one. And he breathed a sigh of relief.

They are now in the main hall of Hybe headquarters, the various cameramen chasing them as they wait for the okay to leave and put the final touches on things. One of the managers explains to them that, of course, they will not be filmed all the time, and each time they will agree on what makes sense to shoot on camera and what does not.

Seokjin is feeling more and more on the up and up despite everything. The atmosphere is playful but quiet, there is nothing to upset him - except for Jungkook and Taehyung chasing each other to kick each other's butts for no reason. He is sitting, like Yoongi and Jimin, chatting amiably and not getting too agitated - not beyond normal at least - when Namjoon joins them and even winks at Seokjin after he makes a bad joke.

Seokjin is surprised but tries not to give it away. Namjoon does not hate him, Namjoon is comfortable around him, Namjoon has forgiven him for that mistake he made. Perhaps a tiny part of him is also disappointed, but he is quick to hide it in a recondite corner of his subconscious. He should be glad that things are back to the way they were.

When the cameras go off and only one cameraman remains in the room who Seokjin knows is one of those who has been working with them the longest - Dahyung? Dong-Yul? Can't remember what his name is - Namjoon clears his throat and draws attention with a thread of embarrassment.

Intrigued, the members all stop what they were doing and, as is their wont, gather attracted by their leader's call.

“What is it?”
Namjoon speaks. “Um, before I go, I'd like to talk to you about something important.”

“Oh God,” Hoseok exclaims wide-eyed. “What did you forget?”

Jimin elbows him,

Namjoon gives him a dirty look. “Nothing, Hoba. And thanks for the trust by the way.”

Hoseok shrugs, muttering something.
“I actually wanted to tell you something personal, but I would like to share it with you now, because you are my family and it is important for me that you know.”

“Jesus Christ, don't tell me you are dairy intolerant again. No one cares Namjoon, get over it,” Yoongi retorts, rolling his eyes.

“Please don't tell me they offered you a solo contract too.”

“Shall we let him talk?”

Seokjin is curious, but he cannot help but also be a little anxious about that sudden change of register, about the seriousness in Namjoon's eyes. Contrary to what his companions believe, he recognizes the veil of anxiety in the boy's eyes and, as a result, presages it is something really important to him. Even the cameraman who remained in the room to set up his equipment seems slightly embarrassed, though he does not hint at running away from the room.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but it seems futile. They all started talking nosense.

“Is it about your health? Please tell me it's not that,” Hoseok interjects.

“Is your family okay?”

“Are you finally about to sell your entire collection of paintings?”

Then at one point, Namjoon clears his throat again and—“Guys, I'm seeing someone.”

Everyone closes their mouths. Silence.

“Are you seeing dead people like in that movie?”

This time it is Hoseok who hits Taehyung in the back of the head to shut him up.

Seokjin can perfectly feel the moment when a hole in his chest opens up to become a chasm and take his breath away. Yes, Seokjin is not breathing. The world seems to stop for a moment and suddenly start spinning on the wrong axis, more and more swirling.

Did he hear correctly? Did he understand correctly?

“In—in what sense? Who?” asks Jimin, puzzled.

Namjoon hesitates, bites his lower lip and brings a hand to the back of his head, lowering his gaze. Now that he has a chance to speak, he seems to be at a loss for words.
“Um...,” at one point he decides to raise a hand and point right toward... Seokjin? Oh God, no it's not possible, he must be hallucinating for sure, no way, he would never—“Dohyun-hyung?” exclaims Jimin surprised.

Everyone turns their heads, and only at that moment does Seokjin realize that they are not looking at him, but at someone behind him. He turns slowly, only to meet the gaze--of the cameraman. Dohyun. It’s he whom Namjoon is watching adoringly.

A rock lands deep in his gut, rumbling in his chest and giving him the vague feeling of being out of control of his emotions. What the f*ck is going on? What does the cameraman have to do with it and what is Namjoon saying? Are they dating? That must be a f*cking joke.

He's trying to breathe, he swears, but he just can't force his body to find the right rhythm. Then a wave of something takes over that cannot be immediately defined, but it's an emotion that straddles the line between annoyance, anger, and betrayal.
That is, Seokjin knows full well that he has no right to feel the way he is feeling right now. But it’s inevitable to be taken aback by such news when he has literally spent the last month mulling over their last meeting. The truth is that he hates the idea that he was caught off guard, the idea that Namjoon f*cked him more than once and then got over it so easily. As if nothing had happened. And now here he is making eyes at a f*cking stranger-employee of their agency to boot! - a little over a month later.

“Hello,” says the cameraman - Dohyun - red with embarrassment. “I'm the dead guy he's seeing,” he jokes to break the silence. No one laughs; everyone stares at him, baffled.

Studying him closely, Seokjin realizes that Dohyun is a normal guy. Attractive, but no more than average, with a viscous look and a pinched nose that makes him look even younger than he probably is.

It's Yoongi who comments first, cutting through the air in the room with his unexpectedly sharp tone, “So it really was yours after all that gay p*rn research in the studio computer!” he accuses him, pointing a finger at Namjoon. “You said it was Chinese hackers!”

The boy's melodramatic reaction leads everyone to burst out laughing and destroy that veil of suspense and confusion enveloping the room.

“I—I’d better go outside,” comments Doyhyun still extremely uncomfortable. Namjoon smiles at him showing his dimples and nods. Seokjin follows that silent exchange of glances with his eyes and feels dumbfounded by the whole situation. Doyhyun closes the door, leaving them alone, and the others are immediately on Namjoon to pepper him with questions and congratulations.

“I didn't think you liked men! You should have told me, like… ten years ago,” Jungkook jokes shyly.

“Thank you for telling us, hyung,” Jimin comments with a big, bright smile. “Thank you for trusting us, it means a lot.”

“There's nothing to congratulate us about actually,” replies Namjoon, evidently uncomfortable about being the center of their attention. “It felt right to tell you,” he says, shifting his eyes to Seokjin. “I wanted confirmation that by telling you nothing would change, that this is just a new thing in my life.”

Damn. Namjoon knows how to be direct when he wants to be. He is pretty sure those words are exclusively addressed to him, with all the pettiness of the case. Stupid Seokjin.

“What are you talking about? Of course nothing changes. You're just dating, what do you want to happen?”

Hoseok encircles Namjoon's shoulders with one arm and levels his eyes at the other's. “If you are happy, we are happy. And we'll protect you from anyone who tries to make you think otherwise, okay?”
Namjoon smiles and nods, flattered.
“But when did it happen? And how? We want details,” Taehyung asks with the pout of someone who doesn't have enough information to get an idea.

Seokjin realizes he has opened his mouth when it is too late. His tone comes out more icy and venomous than he intended. “Yeah, how long have you two known each other? Isn't it a little early to be making announcements like that? At this time of year to boot?”

Jimin, at his side, looks at him with the wide eyes of a child who has heard a swear word for the first time. “Hyung!” he scolds him shocked.

Seokjin does not respond; he continues to stare expressionlessly at Namjoon. Then he hears himself say, “Can I have a word?” then nods toward the door and turns away, not even waiting for Namjoon to answer him.

The last thing he hears before he closes the door behind him is Taehyung, who, puzzled, whispers in Jungkook's ear, “Maybe he wanted to be the only gay in the room?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” exclaims Namjoon shortly after joining Seokjin in a secluded corner of the Hybe corridors. Seokjin's arms are crossed, his muscles stiff, his expression indecipherable.

“What has gotten into you rather?” he exclaims again with a hint of venom. He really knows how to adopt an obnoxious tone when he wants to, of that there is no doubt.

“What do you care?” Namjoon clenches his jaw, squints his eyes.

“So, what's all of this. Spite? Revenge?”

Silence.

“I really like Dohyun.”

“I thought you liked me.”

Namjoon shrugs his shoulders feigning indifference. “Yeah well, I can't like you forever can I? You're my family, as you said. And as you can see the others are very supportive.”

Seokjin scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is bullsh*t.”

“And you know bullsh*t, huh?”

Seokjin stiffens at that sudden bitterness. He lets his gaze travel on him slowly. Ah, now he gets it. He let his guard down, assumed it would be that easy and that Namjoon was more mature than he thought. He isn't. Namjoon is angry with him, he can see the flames veiling his eyes.

“What are you trying to do, Namjoon?” he lowers his voice. “This is not a game, we're going back to work after a long time. Why are you acting like this?”

“You really should start getting off that pedestal, hyung,” he teases him maliciously. “Your self-centeredness makes a fool of you.”

Seokjin should not feel hurt by those words. He knows Namjoon tends to be cruel when he's angry, but he doesn't really mean what he says. But—sh*t, it hurts. Because he cares so much.

He swallows. “You don't mean it.”

Namjoon slides a step toward him, towering over Seokjin's figure with a merciless gaze. If the situation were not so tense, he would have laughed at the resemblance between him and the warrior gods in his favorite war video games.

“You know what, Jinnie?” Namjoon approaches with his jaw tight, inches from Seokjin's face. He could headbutt or kiss him at the same time with ease, Seokjin feels his uneven, angry breathing on his neck. “Just do your job and don't f*ck with me, okay?” he whispers cruelly.

How many more times, Seokjin wonders, must he feel wrong and incapable? And who knows how many more times that sense of uncertainty and bewilderment will eventually engulf him. He does not want to see Namjoon so frustrated and nervous because of him. Yet he can't seem to do anything else lately. Perhaps he has been poisoned and hasn't realized it. Perhaps he is a rotten apple that is in danger, over time, of infecting and poisoning the rest of the apples as well, without his wanting to. Namjoon has every right to do as he pleases, owing him nothing.

Whatever the truth is, now Seokjin will have plenty of f*cking time to find out on the incredible journey ahead of him. And as he watches Namjoon turn his back on him, he thinks he will have to do everything to fix that situation. And to put up with Namjoon and his new boyfriend, hoping in the meantime to mend what he can of their relationship. Go Seokjin! Yay.

The house is as big and beautiful as he remembered. The white of the main house reflects the light of the sunset, the calm of the surrounding nature. The journey was long and silent with the cameras off. Everyone was too tired by then - even the younger ones - to do anything but doze. A few minutes of filming where they made some funny puns, then flat calm.

No one, for the moment, has asked Seokjin what happened nor they brought up the subject of Namjoon's boyfriend. But it’s clear that he must be expecting it at any moment. And indeed, as soon as they arrive outside, while waiting for the crew to set up the various cameras in the house, the boys remain outside sitting on lounge chairs at the official In The Soop pool. Taehyung is the first to bring up the subject with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Namjoon-hyung, so you and Dohyun have been together for how long? And did you know he was going to participate in the filming of the program?”

“Not that it's any of your business but—we've been dating for a couple of weeks. A few, I know, but they've been intense. And when I found out he was going to be part of the program crew, I thought it was only fair to give you a heads up.”

“So we won't be shocked if we find you two in the corner smooching?” adds Hoseok with a sly smile.

“Ohhh, Namjoon-hyung is on his personal honeymoon,” Jimin hums.

“Guys, I didn't tell you this to make fun of me all the time,” Namjoon scolds them.

“Never mind, the damage is done now.”

“Are you writing any love songs for him yet?” Jimin continues to tease him.

A chill runs through Seokjin's back. The thought of living in that house and risking catching Namjoon making out with one of the crew… well, it certainly wasn't something he had anticipated having to face. So far, he has remained quiet and shadowy off camera, an image that obviously has not left his companions indifferent, who give him confused looks from time to time.

If he doesn't want to make things worse, he might want to start coming to his senses. After all, it's nothing a good dose of restorative sleep can't fix, right?

“Are you all right?” the whisper coming from his side rouses him from his thoughts. Seokjin turns and only now realizes that Yoongi is staring at him, away from the others' exhausting teasing of an embarrassed Namjoon.

Seokjin hastens to nod and smile. “Sure, why?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You spaced out.”

sh*t, he really needs to pull himself together.

“I'm just tired,” he downplays lightly. “And I'm hungry!” he turns to the others, forcing a laugh. “What are we eating tonight?” The group's attention shifts from Namjoon and his relationship, to the food. So obvious.

“What are you cooking us, Jin-hyung?”

“Who said I have to cook?” he feigns indignantly.

“The fans want to see you cook for us,” Jungkook blinks with his puppy-dog eyes, as if that excuse hasn't been used before to put him at the stove.

“We can do some filming while preparing dinner!”

“I'm going to talk to the director!” declares Taehyung without waiting for any response, in that childlike tone with which he makes final decisions, and drags Jungkook with him by the arm. Yoongi chuckles while Seokjin snorts, although it is clear that he finds the whole situation particularly tender and familiar.

“Is it really a vacation if you put me in front of the stove all the time?”

“I can help you,” Namjoon interjects, earning a surprised and astonished look from everyone. “What? At least I'm offering to do something.”

The filming starts shortly afterwards. The director announces them that he has turned on the various cameras in the rooms and that only a few crew members will be left for that evening to follow them during dinner. Then they will be free. He shows them how to turn off the cameras in their rooms, and when the boys are ready, they decide to play a game to choose where they will sleep. Seokjin, Jimin, and Yoongi are the luckiest because they are the first to get to choose their rooms, while Namjoon and Hoseok end up having to take what's left. And as luck would have it, Namjoon ends up in the same wing where Yoongi and Seokjin's rooms are. Okay, the God of Fortune is definitely not on his side, but that is nothing new. Paradoxically, the knowledge that the cameras are around calms Seokjin, who is forced to bring out the most charming and playful part of himself.

As night falls, Taehyung and Jungkook are showering, and the others are scattered in the kitchen putting away the supplies taken on the trip. Seokjin frees the meat from its plastic wrap, then orders Namjoon to chop the onions while he begins to rinse the vegetables.

Jimin and Yoongi are sitting on the swivel chairs at the table, doing nothing but bickering about what music to play in the background. The atmosphere is quiet and relaxed, Seokjin even takes to moving his head to the music, focused as he is on cleaning vegetables and preparing the bowl he needs. Soon after, Hoseok joins them and starts wandering around looking for food to munch on. When he realizes he won't get it, he begins to do some ridiculous dance moves explaining that it is a new technique he learned from his fellow street dancers.

“Yah, Hoseok-ah, don't you dare include these stupid moves into our new choreography,” Seokjin jokes, pointing a knife at him and giggling loudly.

“sh*t, we'll have to go back to the ballroom soon,” declares Yoongi, suddenly seized by that terrible realization. “I'm too old to do that.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Jimin teases him, rising from his chair to avoid Yoongi's elbow with an amused grin. The boy peeks over his shoulder at Namjoon who continues chopping onions and exclaims, “Your cooking skills have improved a lot, hyung.”

“I wonder who must have taught him that,” adds Hoseok mischievously.

It was me, Seokjin suddenly thinks. Then Hoseok turns to Dohyun, who meanwhile is quietly taking in the scene. “Are you a good cook, Dohyun-ssi?”

Namjoon coughs and nearly slices his finger with the knife in surprise. Yoongi elbows Hoseok, making Jimin laugh.

Dohyun is red in the face, motionless with his eyes wide open because they have spoken to him and he does not know if he can respond. They are filming, after all. It is also true that it would not be the first time the staff has been involved within the filming.

Dohyun stammers, looks at Namjoon for help. Seokjin feels sorry for him.

“It was Jin-hyung, actually.”

Taken aback by the naturalness of Namjoon's tone, Seokjin looks at him surprised.

“Yeah, personally I'm not much of a cook. Namjoonie is much better than me,” Dohyun adds.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Then it's serious.”

“You must have taken a very big crush to say such a thing.”

Namjoon finishes cutting the onions, slides the cutting board toward Seokjin without looking at him, then wipes his hands with a rag and reaches for Dohyun. Seokjin watches as he runs a hand down his back and smiles at him. Yuck, suddenly he has to vomit. He sets the meat to cook with mechanical gestures, keeping his back to the others.

“Well, your friend here is one of the most charming people I've ever met, it's not that hard to like him.” Namjoon lowers his head slightly, in an attempt to hide the blush that clouds his cheeks. Only then, Seokjin, because he is a masoch*st, turns to look at the others.

“Yeah, he's pretty cool. I can tell, I've known him for almost fifteen years now,” Yoongi says in a ridiculously serious tone.

“But he's a bad drinker,” adds Dohyun, now amused by that situation and the way the others seem relaxed around him.

“Come on, stop it,” Namjoon complains, provoking laughter from the others. “I'm not that bad at drinking.”

Dohyun, who is slightly shorter than Namjoon, runs a hand through his hair slowly, an intimate and seductive gesture. “You make the worst choices when you drink.”

This is the straw that breaks the camel's back, or rather it is the moment when Seokjin realizes that he definitely does not want to stay in that room to witness the scene further. Dohyun's words could not be truer; he more than anyone else knows what choices Namjoon has made because of alcohol.
Seokjin finishes preparing the meat and arranges the side dishes in the bowls hastily, suddenly restless. He bangs two pans, drawing attention which turns now to him. He’s the focus of everyone's gaze, Seokjin feels terribly awkward.

“Um, dinner is ready. I'll go get the others.”

Seokjin makes his way down the hallways, ignoring the cameras and heading for the wing where the younger children's rooms are located. The bathroom door at the end of the hallway is open, a sign that neither Taehyung nor Jungkook are yet in the shower. There is, however, an unusual silence, which is why perhaps Seokjin should knock before entering one of the rooms, but he is so unaccustomed to giving them privacy that he is almost about to throw Taehyung's door wide open heedless of the conditions in which he might find the boy. Fortunately, when he hears whispering from the half-open door, Seokjin hesitates and with a flick of his hand makes his presence known.

He opens the door, finding Taehyung and Jungkook facing each other, looking at each other intensely as if they were in the midst of a tense argument. Seokjin immediately has the impression that he has been invaded by a sudden heavy air, that he has intruded on something he doesn’t know but is obviously making the other two uncomfortable.

It's only a split second, however, because as soon as they hear the sound of the door, Taehyung and Jungkook turn to look at him, interrupting whatever thick, whispered conversation they were having.

“Um, sorry, dinner is ready,” he says.

Taehyung blinks, as if focused on something else, Jungkook immediately responds. “Oh, thank you, hyung,” he walks away from Taehyung, joining Seokjin at the doorway. “I'll go help the others set the table,” he says disappearing into the hallway.

Seokjin returns to look at Taehyung, still standing there where he found him. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

Taehyung smiles slowly, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance-like state. “I just need a second.”

Despite that request, Seokjin follows his instincts and closes the door behind him, catching up with Taehyung at the same time as he sits on the edge of his bed. They both sit facing the large glass window overlooking the forest faintly illuminated by moonlight. Seokjin knows Taehyung, knows not to fill him with questions or force him to talk: in time he will find the time to do it his way.

Only a few minutes pass when it happens. “You know that solo contract they offered me that sent Jimin into a panic last month? Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had signed that.”

That spontaneous and forthright confession catches Seokjin off guard; he sucks in a breath and stares at Taehyung, apprehensive.

“Why are you saying this all of a sudden?” Seokjin feels apprehension take over as Taehyung shakes his head without answering. “Is this about Jungkook? Has he upset you? If it's about the bed thing, you can take mine, I-”

“Hyung,” Taehyung immediately stops him, looking at him with a frown of unexpected reproach. “I know you think we're children, but you know I'm almost 30 years old right?”

“What?” Seokjin brings a hand to his mouth feigning melodramatic shock. “That's not true, I can't believe it, you're lying to me!”

Taehyung finally laughs, albeit weakly. Seokjin feels relief loosen a knot in his chest. He absentmindedly takes one of Taehyung's hands and begins to play with his smooth fingers, stroking them lightly. “Why did you tell me those things?” he demands at one point again seriously.

Taehyung lets out a long sigh. “I have the impression that I can tell you.”

“And you know you can tell me other things, too, right?”

The younger man does not respond, a shadow shrouding his intense, charming gaze that so many love. Then he nods and forces a smile. “I'm fine, hyung,” she turns to look at him and rises from the bed, stretching her legs. “Nothing that your cooking can't fix,” he winks at him, lightly.

“Yah, the usual flatterer!”

He grins. “That's why I'm your favorite.”

Seokjin gets up and follows him toward the exit of the room, shutting the door behind him, saying. “Go tell that to Jimin if you dare, brat.”

“How about we play a game?” proposes Hoseok touching his food-filled belly, satisfied. Seokjin looks at the messy table, the dirty and empty plates, and feels a sense of relief in knowing that of all the things that might have changed, Bangtan Sonyeondan's hunger remains the same. Yoongi stretches his arms and yawns, but agrees to stay and play, as do the others who, in front of the cameras, don't feel like going straight to bed despite being tired.

In no time, therefore, they clear the table and decide to leave only the bottles si soju, beer and water to accompany them to the game. They opt for taboo, since they have no cards or board games. Seokjin is also tipsy enough not to feel discomfort when he inevitably finds himself paired with Namjoon. Jungkook is too competitive not to choose Taehyung on his team, just as Yoongi is too tired to play with only one person, which is why he joins Jimin and Hoseok. For others, it’s natural for Namjoon and Seokjin to play together; it’s a well-known fact that their mental complicity - however they are then so different as people - is infallible.

As soon as Hoseok gets his secret word and starts miming it for Yoongi and Jimin to guess, laughter comes easy. Seokjin finds himself tearing up and covering his mouth from the loud laughter that comes out of his mouth when Jimin begins to claim that the secret word Hoseok is mimicking is blowj*b.

Yoongi hits Jimin in the back of the head in reproach, his reaction of shock exaggerated by alcohol. “How stupid can you be? Do you think they give him the word blowj*b? It's clearly a microphone, you little pervert.”

Jimin sulks. “How can it be microphone? Do you lick your microphone by any chance?”

“It was simply f*cking ice cream - you two are the most idiotic creatures I know!” complains Hoseok defeatedly.

“We'll have to cut this part out,” Namjoon murmurs next to Seokjin, shaking his head in disbelief at the situation. “Si-hyuk hyung will kill me.” Seokjin turns just enough to find himself very close to Namjoon's tired, soju-reddened face. Their shoulders brush against each other; he hadn't noticed it before and it doesn't bother him now. Maybe it should, but the lightness in his head does not allow him to stiffen. “Before we cut it out, let's show him,” Seokjin whispers to him. “You don't know what I would give to see his face as Jiminie slurs the word blowj*b.” Namjoon laughs along with Seokjin, unaware that the others are calling him because their turn has come.
“Who will guess?”
Seokjin raises a hand. “I'll go,” he swipes his chair just enough to face Namjoon and straightens his shoulders. The younger boy accepts the slip of paper with the secret word from Taehyung, who chuckles under his mustache. Jungkook peeks at the word behind Namjoon's back and exclaims, “Tae, that's a tough one!”

Jimin runs to read what is written and opens his mouth wide dramatically. “You guys are so cruel, I don’t even know what that means. They’ll never make it.”
“Shhh, there's nothing my telepathy can't guess,” Seokjin says, raising his chin swaggeringly. “Come on, Namjoon-ah, let's show them how to play.”

Namjoon looks at the word on the paper for a few more seconds, pondering what to do.

When he is ready, he closes the paper again and looks up at Seokjin and clears his throat. “Hyung, this is hard,” he begins in a ridiculously serious tone. “But you can get there, okay?”

“Remember, Namjoon-ah, you can either mime the word or go around it in one sentence, nothing more,” Hoseok interjects.

Seokjin and Namjoon look into each other's eyes with intensity, as if that were a very important moment that requires high concentration. There is something in the brightness of his eyes that for a moment takes Seokjin back to a dangerous path, to moments that would be best forgotten. Namjoon is always frighteningly beautiful when one pauses to look at him too much. Seokjin suddenly isn't sure he can win anymore.

“I can't mimic it to you, okay? But we can get there together if you follow my reasoning,” Namjoon says in a low, gentle voice. Seokjin doesn't trust his own voice, so he tightens his lips and just nods.

“So...” Namjoon's confidence, as seconds pass, seems to dissolve behind uncertainty and hesitation. He lowers his eyes, losing himself in thought, perhaps to find the right way to give him the clue.

“Remember, we cannot stay here forever, and you have only one chance. Just one clue,” Yoongi rests his chin on his palm, smiling with his red cheeks and the air of someone who has just put a timer on the two players' heads.

“Choose the right words, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin says tensely, as if it were a matter of life and death. “I'm tipsy, I can't stand losing to this bunch of brats. I will kill them to hide the evidence.”

For a moment, Namjoon shifts his gaze beyond his friends, pointing it at Dohyun who is recording the scene with another cameraman. He seems to ponder a thought. Then, he sets his eyes on Seokjin once more.

“We talked about this once and you told me it was crazy, but it was exactly the kind of crazy that described the relationship between the seven of us.”

At first surprised by such a strange clue, Seokjin struggles to reflect on Namjoon's words. Of all the things he could have said to him, he chose the strangest, but also the one he probably finds most apt. “Come on, hyung. Look at me, I know you know what I'm talking about,” Namjoon urges him as he begins to nod rapidly and stamp his feet on the ground like a child. The others giggle, Seokjin feels out of ideas. His head is spinning from the alcohol, which doesn't help, but the worst thing is that he remembers having such a conversation with Namjoon, one of those deep ones that the others cannot know about because it was an intimate moment that only the two of them can remember. He remembers Namjoon's hands grazing his bare arm, his legs entwined, and a sheet barely covering them.

But what was the word Namjoon had told him about? Damn, he can feel it on the tip of his tongue. Seokjin winces, about to declare failure, when Namjoon does something unexpected, anticipating him. As if words were not enough and that simple gesture could mean so much more: he gathers the long sleeve of his oversize shirt into a fist and grabs Seokjin's palm, gently brushing it with the fabric.

That's when Seokjin stops working. While the others frown, confused by that seemingly insignificant exchange, Seokjin remains still with his eyes on his own palm, certain that he can still feel the fabric of Namjoon's clothes brush against his skin. It probably means nothing to others, but it’s very clear to Seokjin. Finally finding the voice to whisper “In-yun,” he swallows and looks up at Namjoon again, seeking confirmation. “The word is In-yun.”

Taehyung gapes. “What?”

“How did you guess?”

“I can't believe you did it!”

Within seconds chaos returns to the room, clearing away the tension and bursting the bubble in which Seokjin felt he had suddenly ended up.

“I hate the two of you. How can you understand each other with one look, it's absurd!” gestures Jungkook with his big eyes wide open.

Seokjin is trying hard not to mind the way Namjoon is staring at him as if he is trying to dig into him to get some kind of answer. Don't look at me like that, Seokjin wants to yell at him. That’s unfair. Instead, he shakes his head and turns toward the others, feeling Namjoon's heavy gaze still on him.

He now clearly remembers the moment they had that conversation. It was one of those post-sex nights during Namjoon's first leave. Seokjin was nearing the end of his military career and they both felt lost for different yet very similar reasons. It had been their second time together. He remembers brushing Namjoon's cheek and thinking how much poetry was contained in his soul, how attractive was the firmness with which he spoke of In-Yun. Fate.

For a second he intercepts another pair of eyes on him, Dohyun looking at him from above the camera with an indecipherable gaze, neither present nor hostile. A reflective look that Seokjin immediately avoids.

He turns to the others at the table and says, “Come on, Taehyung-ah, it's your turn now.”

That night Seokjin goes to bed with a head confused by alcohol, knowing that he will not sleep. Maybe fatigue will manage to give him a few hours, but usually when he arrives in a new place he always has trouble sleeping the first night. There are more thoughts crowding in his mind the moment he lays his head on the pillow: why did Taehyung and Jungkook seem so upset when he went to call them for dinner? Why is Namjoon dating Dohyun out of the blue? What is it about the cameraman that attracted him? More importantly, why does it make him so nervous? He should be happy for Namjoon, he should be relieved that there are no complications for the team.
Seokjin cannot come to terms with any of those thoughts, while meanwhile he stares intoxicatedly at the palm of his hand and mentally swears that he can feel Namjoon's touch again.

The good thing about sleep is that when it comes, then it flies away in a second and it seems like hours have not passed instead.

When Seokjin opens his eyes it is still too early, barely 6:30 a.m. according to his phone screen. Even lifting his head from the pillow causes him pain, a cruel reminder that perhaps drinking so much is not the right choice. As soon as he is sure he can stand, his back hunched and his eyes half closed, Seokjin walks over to one of the small cameras in his room and begins to grimace and make funny faces with the idea of cheering up fans who will see that pitiful scene in the future.
So much for the most handsome man in the world. He is a mess now.

With a big yawn he makes his way down the stairs and downstairs to reach the kitchen and start making breakfast without waking anyone else.

He opens the refrigerator, pulls out some fruit, carefully impinges it on the table. After that he heats the rice in the rice cooker and argues a bit with the coffee maker before finally managing to fill a cup. As he begins to eat in silence sitting alone at the kitchen table, he picks up a piece of paper and a pen and turns his gaze toward the glass window in front of him, where he can catch a glimpse of the nature around him in all its beauty.
To be honest, Seokjin was never as successful as others at writing songs simply by taking a look at nature. He has never been good in general, only succeeding occasionally in getting good thoughts that Namjoon or Yoongi then rearranged by putting them into songs. But he is trying. The pressure from Bang Si-hyuk and the producers is such that he at least pretends to try.

But as the minutes tick by, Seokjin finds nothing to say, so he gets up to go open the refrigerator and find, instead, something else to eat.

When he closes the wing of the refrigerator, he jumps from fright finding a sleepy Namjoon next to him, very close by.

“Holy sh*t, Namjoon-ah!” he shouts bringing a hand to his pounding heart, causing the other to grimace in annoyance.

“Words, hyung.”

“f*ck you.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “We should cut this part from the footage, too.”

“You woke up before the crew, the house cameras are on, but I haven't turned this one on yet.”

“Oh, good.” Namjoon brings a hand in front of his eyes, revealing himself to be as devastated in appearance as Seokjin. A small satisfaction: at least he is not the only one who looks like a zombie.

“You almost killed me,” Seokjin scolds him, walking away and returning to sit at the table. Namjoon follows him silently, eyes puffy and the gait of a slowed bear. He sits across from him without saying a single word.

As he eats, he feels himself being watched. Seokjin raises an eyebrow, his spoon in midair.

“Um, is everything okay?” Namjoon, adorable and puffy from sleep, nods and lowers his eyes from Seokjin to the bowl in front of him.

Seokjin follows him with his gaze. “Are you hungry?”

Namjoon still nods slowly, something in his half-closed eyes and protruding lower lip makes Seokjin smile instinctively. “Why don't you get some food then?”

He already knows the answer. Namjoon shakes his head, like a child.

Seokjin snorts amusedly and points to the bowl of side dishes in front of him. “You really want this one don't you?”

One corner of Namjoon's mouth rises instinctively, as if he cannot hold it back. He nods again.

“You are unbelievable,” Seokjin shakes his head, handing him his own bowl and leaving only what remains of the fruit for himself. “Look at that! Now I even have to take the food out of my mouth for you.”

“It wasn't in your mouth,” Namjoon deadpans, chewing the kimchi. Seokjin picks up the piece of paper he was trying to write on and throws it at him, feigning outrage.

“You're ruining my day.”

“Oh get ready, because it's about to get even worse.”

Seokjin grimaces. “What?”

“The little ones lined up against Yoongi and me to play a game of basketball.” Namjoon gestures with his spoon and speaks with the food still in his mouth. If he weren't so disgustingly tender, Seokjin would scold him.

“Oh, well, I'll pass, I'm busy.”

“Busy?”

Seokjin instinctively crosses his arms and rests his back on the chair. “I have to start working on my songs.”

“Oh, right,” Namjoon nods, resuming eating. They stand in silence for a while, daylight becoming more and more cluttered in the house, spreading from the windows all along the gray floor. After a few minutes, Seokjin begins to feel uncomfortable, and if there is anything he really cannot tolerate, it’s feeling uncomfortable in Namjoon's presence. In ten years, this had never happened to him. He hates that it’s happening now. But he certainly had not planned the words he says when he suddenly opens his mouth, “Look, I'm so sorry.”

Namjoon stops eating, finally opening his eyes just enough to know that he is more awake and alert than before. Seokjin takes this as a sign of his attention and continues, more hesitant this time. “I shouldn't have attacked you because of the thing with Dohyun.”

“It's okay,” Namjoon pronounces slowly, as if he doesn't know what to say.

“No, it's not okay. I was unnecessarily venomous and I'm sorry. I was surprised, you know,” Seokjin begins to gesticulate nervously, lowering his voice for fear of being heard in the silence. “The way we had parted, I was—that was something I didn't expect and you know how I am,” Namjoon looks at him bewildered. “I don't like surprises, and maybe I was a little hurt that we didn't talk about it.”

“You didn't want to talk to me,” Namjoon interrupts him, his low voice accompanied by a thin veil of accusation.

“If it's not some kind of spite-”

“It's not,” Namjoon replies sharply.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon gives him a dirty look.

“All right, all right,” Seokjin nods and raises his hands in surrender. “Right. Anyway, you were right, okay? I have to mind my own f*cking business. We have to forget about that misdirection that would have only led to trouble. This is your life and you have every right to make the choices you want.”

Namjoon looks surprised. “Choices,” he murmurs to himself thoughtfully. Then he turns his eyes back to Seokjin. “I'm sorry, too, by the way. For calling you self-centered.”

“Why?” Seokjin chuckles. “It's true.”

“I've been cruel, too,” Namjoon says in a serious tone. “You make me cruel.”

Seokjin is suddenly moved by the need to get up and start moving frantically back and forth so as not to stand still. His hands pinch, his neck begins to burn. Maybe it's time to go get some air.

“I think I'll go for a walk while waiting for the crew and the others to wake up,” he announces as he begins to pick up the bowls and glasses. Namjoon follows him with his gaze.

“Jin?” he calls after him. Not hyung, not Jinnie. But Jin. This sounds like an intolerable compromise.

Seokjin turns around. “Yes?”

“Do you need help with your music?”

Namjoon is holding the slip of paper that Seokjin forgot on the table. The sight of that piece of scribbled paper in his hands embarrasses him, he shakes his head and lowers his eyes. “Thank you for the offer, no need.”

Namjoon nods his head back into the bowl, devouring what remains. But as soon as Seokjin walks to leave, he is interrupted once again.

“If you're not ready, why didn't you tell Si-hyuk hyung?” Namjoon asks him.

Taken aback, Seokjin doesn't know what to say. And how to explain it to someone who always has the right words instead?

“Because it's not a matter of being ready,” Seokjin finally thinks telling the truth right now costs him nothing. “I just have to figure out how to start, but I want to do it. Really.”

Namjoon looks at him without saying anything, but his eyes have no sorrow or disappointment, as Seokjin would have expected. He is not even worried; he is simply absorbing Seokjin's words as if they have value of their own. And this lightens the shame he feels toward himself.

“Besides, I've never been good at saying no to anyone.”

“Except for me.”

Seokjin smiles. “Especially you.”

He stays only a second to look at him, before going out the French window and starting to breathe fresh air again.

It's a white tulip. Seokjin had never seen one live; most of the tulip fields in Seoul come in the spring and are alive with bright colors. But that little flower, the only one in that field of grass and wildflowers, is magnetic. He reaches out a hand unconsciously to touch it when—

“Please don't touch it!” an urgent voice behind him jerks him out of fear. Seokjin turns and walks away with terror in his eyes.

He has to control his breathing because he thinks he might have a heart attack. In front of him is a short, elderly man dressed in worn-out clothes and a straw hat covering half his face. The man strides worriedly toward the flower, and Seokjin recoils in bewilderment.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't know.” The man ignores him and kneels toward the flower with a worried expression. “It's mine,” he whispers. “Don't touch it.”

“I didn't mean to,” Seokjin murmurs.

Once he makes sure there is no damage to the flower, the man gets back on his feet and faces Seokjin. “You must be one of that film crew that came to shoot in the villa next door, right?” the man exclaims suspiciously.

Seokjin nods slowly, not surprised that the man does not know precisely who he is. “Yes, I was just walking around, I didn't want to disturb anyone.”

The elderly man relaxes his facial muscles and lets out a small sigh, suddenly showing embarrassment at his overreaction. He takes off his hat and bows his head in greeting. “I'm Ji Yun, nice to meet you. I live in the village nearby, my house is one kilometer from the mansion where you are working,” Seokjin hesitates, still puzzled by the situation and that strange man. Finally he decides to be polite and bows his head to return the greeting. “Kim Seokjin, my pleasure.”

“I didn't mean to scare you Kim Seokjin, but you were about to make a big mistake.”

Seokjin cannot contain himself. “Why?” he frowns.

“That's a white tulip and it shouldn't be there. It's the middle of summer and tulips shouldn't be able to grow in this weather. It's my tulip and you can't touch it,” the man explains in the tone of a petulant child. Seokjin merely nods, increasingly confused. Perhaps it is best not to investigate further. What a strange man.

“It's very beautiful, isn't it?” Yun then asks him, turning his adoring gaze toward the flower.

Seokjin allows himself a few seconds to look at him. “Yeah, it's really cute. But how come it’s here?”

“It's here for me. It's my sign.” What is he saying? Is this perhaps a technicality in the language of flowers? Seokjin is rather puzzled; the man probably has a screw loose, so he decides to humor him.

“Sign?” repeats Seokjin.

Yun strokes the air around the motionless tulip, without touching it. After a few seconds he seems to come to his senses and realize the uncomfortable situation. He blushes slightly, his round cheeks rising in a shy smile. “I'm sorry, you must think I'm crazy, I didn't mean to be rude before—”

“I didn't think so,” Seokjin immediately interrupts him seriously, the urge to get the man out of embarrassment stronger than kindness. He blames himself for judging him mentally, for thinking he was a weirdo. “There are no strange people for me. Only strange flowers.”

Yun studies Seokjin's face for a few seconds, then smiles revealing a few missing teeth, but a brightness in his eyes that makes him a handsome man in the younger boy's eyes.

“Yes, it’s a strange flower. And maybe it's a sign for you, too,” Yun says.Seokjin doesn't know what to say.

“You can come back to see him if you want. It won't last long.”

“Will you pick it up soon?”

Yun nods and puts his hat back on his head as a sign that he is about to leave. “Please don't spread the word,” he says. “I wouldn't want someone else to pick it up.” Why all the apprehension over a single flower? Seokjin thinks he could buy a hundred and have them flown in directly from Holland.

“I'll keep my mouth shut,” he promises solemnly, mimicking zipping his lips shut. “But if you don't mind me asking ... how come you care so much? Is it worth a lot?”

The man bursts out laughing, as if Seokjin had just told him a joke. “Let's say it's worth a lot to me,” he shrugs. “If we meet again, maybe I'll tell you why.”

Without adding anything else, the man walks off to go further into the woods, leaving Seokjin standing there more confused than before.

Confusion takes yet another level as Seokjin removes his shoes at the French door entrance and goes in the spacious kitchen to be flooded by a wave of cackling and laughter, crew members moving invisibly around the breakfasting members. All trace of the silence that accompanied Seokjin and Namjoon's breakfast now gone.

“Hyung!” Hoseok calls to him. “Where have you been?”

“I went for a walk,” says Seokjin taking a seat in the only empty chair next to Jungkook. “What did I miss?”

“Jimin just told Yoongi that he looks like a dried-up cat when he wakes up.”

“And how is he still breathing?”

Jungkook drowns himself with laughter under his breath.

“Jiminie has always been his favorite,” Hoseok shrugs, relaxed. Yoongi doesn't seem to agree, grunting as he swallows another mouthful of kimchi.

“He's unbearable,” he mutters.

Seokjin looks around noticing only now that someone is missing. “Where is Namjoon?”

No one answers; everyone exchanges glances at each other surreptitiously. Seokjin frowns, not understanding that suspicious reaction. “What?”

Yoongi nods, pointing at the cameras. Seokjin still doesn't understand, but squaring off one by one the cameramen present—“Oh,” he whispers.
Dohyun is not there. Namjoon must be with him. Seokjin tries not to reveal his reaction, which is certainly not as malicious or devious as the others'. He remains impassive, a wax statue, while inside a snake of irritation slithers around his bones.

Seokjin knows that he probably feels this way as a matter of pride. He was not lying to Namjoon a few hours earlier when he told him that he is sorry for the way he behaved. But at the same time he is a proud man and hates the idea that someone else might enjoy the veneration Namjoon is able to give. The two of them have never been, like, a couple, so obviously Seokjin cannot have any claim nor does what he feels make sense. Again, it is pure envy. Envy because for Namjoon it must have really been a mistake, and as much as it was Seokjin himself who used those words well...f*ck, it hurts.

To escape his whirlwind of thoughts, he puts his mask of joviality back on, bangs his fists on the table, and smiles. “Well, what are our plans for today?”

Jungkook finally finishes eating. “Basketball game!”

“Yah, you guys are really boring.”

“Don't you want to join us, hyung? What do you want to do?” asks Jimin.

Seokjin shrugs. “I certainly don't want to play.”

Yoongi rises from his chair and in a show of support pats him on the back. “We'll find something for you to do then.”

That something, an hour later, turns out to be the f*cking referee. On the extended field, members have split into two teams, and Seokjin is sitting on the edge of the half court with a notepad and pen in his hands, and an irresistible urge to sleep. That's more or less what he does, hiding his eyes under a wide sun hat. Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon are playing against Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok. Obviously, they are fighting.

“The ball was mine, you can't steal it from me!” Taehyung is complaining with a pout.

“That's literally how basketball is played.”

“Hyung, who's right?”

Seokjin's eyes are half-closed, he's dozing off, and the voices of the others seem far away. At least until... “Jin-Hyuuung?!” shouts Jimin sharply.

“What?” cuts Seokjin short.

“You have to tell us who's right!”

He looks at Jimin and Taehyung both with their arms folded and their feet tapping the ground annoyingly. He hasn't followed a single second of the match so he will have to improvise. “Jiminie is right,” he declares boredly.

Taehyung frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because I wasn't watching and Jimin scares me more than you do.”

“That's not fair.”

“Life is unfair, Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin shrugs, heedless. The sun is strong on his arms, perhaps the best choice would be to go back inside and get some rest.

“f*ck it, I don't want to play anymore,” Taehyung complains sullenly. Jimin rolls his eyes at the same time the curly-haired boy leaves the court to head back up toward home. Seokjin notices the way Jungkook follows him with his gaze and says,

“Guys, I'm a little tired too. I’ll go.”

“How about making the game more fun?” suggests Hoseok, passing a hand over his forehead to cover it from the lonely. “Would anyone from the crew like to join us? Dohyun-hyung?”

Seokjin lifts his head and straightens his shoulders, suddenly intrigued. Dohyun looks around bewildered, not knowing what to say or do, after which he nods to one of his colleagues, as if to ask his permission. He places the camera on the ground and shrugs. “Sure, I'm in.”

“We need one more player. Anyone offer?”

Seokjin doesn't know what's on his mind, but the words leave his mouth before he can regret them. “Coming.”

sh*t. Did he really say that? The others look at him in amazement as he rises from his chair, puts his hat away, and runs awkwardly to the center of the field, where the others have gathered to reform their teams.

“Okay, me, Hoseok and Seokjin,” Yoongi points his finger at them, basketball under his arm. “Against Namjoon, Jimin, and Dohyun.”

Seokjin feels one part of himself disconnect from the other and counter what he is doing. That part, he would like to slap himself twice to bring him to his senses. As the seconds pass, he is more and more convinced that he f*cked up and mentally berates himself for that reckless, petty, childish behavior. And he can't even play f*cking basketball!

Why did he offer? He could have just sat there dozing and pretended to write a few sentences for a stupid song. But no, something inside him has taken over his psyche and now wants to make fun of him.

It's too late though. He can't back out now, but in a couple of minutes he might pretend to have sprained his ankle. Yes, he will do exactly that.

The game begins and Yoongi, the most experienced, moves nimbly among the other players taking possession of the ball. Who said you need height to play basketball? Seokjin feels awkward and stupid running around without knowing exactly what to do.

Jimin is not particularly good, but he knows how to fake it. Same for Namjoon, while Hoseok and Dohyun look decidedly more comfortable, facing each other early on for possession of the ball. Yoongi brings their team ahead pretty much on his own talent alone, while Dohyun does the same, with the complicity of Namjoon's height. Seokjin watches them pat each other on the back lingering far too long, their smiling eyes searching each other in the run. They are enjoying themselves. Why can't he?

At that point, the only thing Seokjin does is count down the minutes before his fake sprain - he can act, at least that - and he's just about ready to slump to the ground and call time out when... the ball ends up in his hands. sh*t. What is the ball doing in his hands and why is everyone looking at him as if they want to eat him alive?
Terrified, Seokjin starts dribbling fleeing from the opposing team, producing ridiculous sounds of panic. The best thing would be to pass the ball to Yoongi, who catches up to him and spreads his hands and legs, signaling that he is free. But Dohyun approaches Seokjin and starts to be on his back all the time, waving him around even more.

“Come on, Seokjin-ssi, give it up,” he jokes all too amused, just enough for a pang of annoyance to pinch Seokjin's pride. Passing the Yoongi problem might be tricky now that Namjoon has started blocking him, but he can't last long before Dohyun steals the ball from him.“Do you really want to play? Stop stalling,” the cameraman continues with a grin on his face, continuing to block him. His sly, arrogant grin is so annoying, so devious, it sends blood to his brain.

How dare he, huh? Who the hell is that guy to address him like that? He shouldn't be there. He shouldn't be meddling with his family.

“You can't win, pretty face, let it go,” Dohyun murmurs again far too caught up in the game. Those words, in an instant, seem to take on a whole other meaning. Time slows down, the anger inside him accelerates. And it’s in that moment that Seokjin becomes blind. He does so before he thinks, losing total lucidity for a fragment of a second.

He stops dribbling and, aggressively, throws the ball directly into Dohyun's face to wipe away that f*cking swaggering giggle. Holy sh*t. Did he really do that?

“What the f*ck, Jin!”

The ball rolls a few feet away, Dohyun falls to the ground bringing a hand to his nose, and Namjoon rushes in kneeling beside him to make sure he is okay. All the anger of the moment seems to slip away leaving only a mask of shame on him. Dohyun is bleeding slightly, nothing too serious, but the air around them has suddenly become serious, tense. Seokjin wants to die. The other cameramen turned off their cameras, standing still not knowing exactly what to do.

“sh*t, I'm so sorry,” Seokjin stammered, approaching Dohyun with a mortified expression.

Namjoon stops him with a firm hand gesture. “Forget it, hyung,” in his eyes lightning flashes. Namjoon is angry, he can tell. Then he turns to Dohyun, taking his face in his hands, making sure there is no harm beyond the nosebleed.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asks him softening his tone.

“I'm fine, don't worry, it was just an accident.”

“I didn't do it on purpose—I,” Seokjin looks at the others for support, but all they find are puzzled looks, Jimin wide-eyed with surprise. “I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me.”

He has no excuse. It wasn't an accident, everyone saw it. He doesn't know what to say and perhaps it's best to keep quiet for now.

“Nothing happened, Seokjin-ssi. I was probably on your back too closely and you got scared,” Dohyun says, every trace of his arrogance vanished as if it were just an apparition in Seokjin's head. The gentleness of his tone only aggravates Seokjin's shame. And, of course, makes him feel so little.

“I'll take him over there to help him disinfect,” Namjoon announces, helping Dohyun to his feet. Seokjin's first instinct is to step forward and reach out a hand, not sure to do what. He has to control his breathing because the last thing he needs is to have a crisis there in front of his members.

He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it again. Yoongi takes charge by clearing his throat. “Let's go back inside, okay? It's starting to get too hot.”

“I guess this footage needs to be cut too,” Hoseok mutters to himself as they walk home.

The sun on their skin begins to burn.

From Yoongi's perspective, things could have been worse. Despite the fact that they are now all sitting quietly listening in inevitable embarrassment to Namjoon and Seokjin's screams in a random room upstairs, Yoongi still believes that things could have been worse. They could have not talked at all and made the rest of that vacation very awkward.

Jimin, on the other hand, thinks it's the end of the world. Catastrophic as he is, he imagines the myriad angles in which the matter could end badly. Namjoon's screams are lower and more furious, Seokjin's louder and more nervous. They might go too far, they might even get hurt by accident. The possibility distresses him and forces him to squeeze Yoongi's shoulder in the same way he would with a stress puppet.

“If you leave a bruise on me, I swear I'll kill you first, then resurrect you to slather me with anti-liver cream,” Yoongi threatens him through clenched teeth. Jimin ignores him, flinching at yet another scream.

“Nothing serious happened, I don't understand why you're making this whole fuss.”

“Because you were thoughtless!”

For Taehyung and Jungkook, the only way to keep the situation under control is to be able to understand exactly what their two hyungs are saying to each other amid the shouting. Taehyung does this because knowing exactly every word allows him to be sure he has everything under control, to be able to handle the consequences. And yes, also because he is f*cking curious. If he could, he would get popcorn. Jungkook does it because as long as he is sure that he hears every single word, he will be sure that it is nothing serious. After all, this is not the first time Seokjin and Namjoon have argued like that. In fact, the two arguing nonstop is almost a familiar moment. Seokjin, who has a more impetuous temperament, manages to make even a calm and reasonable person like Namjoon lose his temper. It has always been like this since they were trainees.

For Hoseok, finally, it’s the biggest show since the big bang. Don't get him wrong, he is certainly not pleased when he hears Namjoon call Seokjin a pent-up aggressor, nor is he happy when he hears Seokjin shout at him that he is a snooty, touchy, and heavy-handed person. Nevertheless, it is the most exciting and familiar thing that happens between now and a few months. So he'll be fine with it.

The thud of an object slamming against the walls makes everyone jolt.

“1,000 won that Seokjin threw at the bedside lamp at Namjoon.”

“I bet 10,000 won that he threw the bonsai tree out the window at him.”

Jimin looks at both of them with a venomous glare.

“Shouldn't we go upstairs and make them stop?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Do you dare?”
The voices upstairs take over again, disruptive.

“I said I'm sorry, how many more times do I have to tell you? Or are you stupid?”

“It’s not enough.”

“Oh, please. Like you've never made someone's nose bleed before!”

“It was just one time! And you said we wouldn't talk about it anymore,” Namjoon complains.

“When was that?” asks Taehyung, filling a glass of orange juice nonchalantly.

“Eight years ago, during rehearsal. Namjoon hit Jin with an elbow while we were dancing,” says Hoseok laughing.

“Some things never change, but...” Jimin seems to hesitate for a moment. “Why did Seokjin react that way?”

“Dohyun is fine, these things happen in the heat of the game,” Yoongi shrugs. “Namjoon is taking it too hard.”

“He's his boyfriend,” Hoseok points out.

“It shouldn't matter when it comes to the group,” Jimin mutters. And although it was clearly not his intention to be heard, Yoongi intercepts his gaze and lifts his chin. “Shouldn't our personal happiness matter?”

“Not at the expense of the group. The team comes first,” Jimin returns his gaze sternly. The intensity with which their eyes cross and challenge each other seems to take on a deeper meaning. It’s unclear whether they are still talking about Namjoon and Jin or whether there is subtext that only they can know.

“Jiminie-hyung is right,” Jungkook interjects, crossing his arms and almost unconsciously finding Taehyung's eyes in the room. Taehyung who immediately lowers his eyes and begins nervously tapping his foot on the floor, overshadowed.

Suddenly, he looks so small.

They are all so busy pursuing their theories that they jerk when Hoseok's voice cuts through the air, interrupting them.

“All of you, be quiet,” he raises a finger and points up. For a moment the silence confuses those in the room - Yoongi most of all who looks at Hoseok with brows furrowed and lips curled in confusion. Then he finally understands.

“They've stopped screaming,” Jimin anticipates him, whispering.

Both nervous members of the group have finally ended their bickering session. The calm after the storm is always a moment of bewilderment and silence, but it’s also the most peaceful moment. Taehyung throws his head back, relaxing his neck muscles against the softness of the sofa. He closes his eyes, savoring the stillness.

They all do so, preferring not to utter a word.

They wonder if Namjoon and Seokjin managed to make peace or come to a conclusion-and if so, how. Who won the argument? Who first put down the hatchet? They wonder if, in the end, that silence is because they killed each other or are hugging each other to seal the peace. Then they chase that thought away and think: of course they did.
It's Namjoon and Seokjin.

The discussion was clearly ugly. Not because Namjoon was more cruel or aggressive than usual, but because the motivation was different this time. They did not fight over a group decision or problem, nor because one of them did something that really hurt the other. They fought over Dohyun. Because of another. Namjoon's other.

Seokjin tried to apologize, feeling sincerely mortified, but Namjoon left him no choice but to shout at him and lose his temper. He accused him of being inappropriately cruel and childish, accused him of being unsporting. And how dare he? How dare he suggest that Seokjin may have been less elegant than he is? His restless temperament did the rest. So soon they found themselves shouting things at each other that made no sense or truth. Somehow, Seokjin must admit it was comforting: he missed fighting with Namjoon in that carnal, melodramatic way. It was routine. It was familiarity. And that's why he finally lowered his voice, apologized again as honestly as he could, and then walked over to Namjoon to muss his hair and tease him until the younger man finally smiled, thus ending the matter.

Dohyun is fine. In fact, Seokjin pointed out to him, he should thank him: it gave him a chance to play doctor and patient. With a wink he closed the matter, hoping Namjoon would not notice the slight twitch in his eye, betraying his composure.
Seokjin wants to be superior. Superior to his malicious, restless outbursts, to that uncontrolled rush of annoyance that led him to injure an innocent person unjustly.

“I'm really sorry, I wasn't joking,” he finally adds.

Namjoon nods. “I know.”

“I—” he exhales. “I don't want there to be any weird moments between us, okay?”

He's pretty sure he looks uncertain and unsure, biting his lower lip nervously and if he keeps it up he'll end up bleeding. Seokjin needs to be sure that Namjoon doesn't think he is a bad person. Yes, he's looking for his approval, maybe he's been looking for it for a long time, but f*ck it. There's no use getting around it.

“Jin,” Namjoon calls to him in a low, soft voice. “Should I worry about you?”

Seokjin inhales sharply through his mouth. “Have you ever done that?”

Namjoon frowns, the idea of him even asking seems absurd to him. “I always have, hyung.” But he doesn't want to. Seokjin doesn't want Namjoon to worry about him.

“There's nothing to worry about, Joon-ah,” his hand slides over the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture and stays there, burning from the touch. “I'm going back downstairs, okay? I'll assure the others I didn't kill you,” he swallows before saying, “You go to Dohyun and make sure he's okay?”

Namjoon nods and leaves the room shortly after Seokjin is gone, still feeling the heat in the back of his neck, right where his hand was before.

Hoseok had the most brilliant idea. A karaoke night to ease the day and create some fun content for fans. Everyone embraced the proposal enthusiastically - okay, maybe Yoongi a little less - and gathered in the living room after dinner to make a list of the perfect songs. They are all in pajamas or comfortable clothes, cameras around the room moving around following their every move. Soon, chaos breaks out, as at each of their karaoke sessions, as if the music turns them into kids possessed by an energetic, almost tribal spirit. Jungkook and Taehyung fight over ownership of the microphone, over plaintive ballads about lost loves. Hoseok, whatever the beat of the song, ends up dancing around the room shaking his hips and somersaulting on the floor. They laugh, they eat, they drink. They are doing well.

The next day, away at last from all tensions and incidents, naturally takes place in peace and relaxation. When Seokjin wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, he senses something is wrong. Like a weight around him, a suffocating presence. A monster under the bed? A demon staring at him from a crack in the closet? No, something worse.

Seokjin opens his eyes and is immediately greeted by two more pairs of wide-open eyes staring at him at a very close distance. If he did not know the two pairs of eyes well, he would probably die of a heart attack. Taehyung and Jimin peer at him on either side of the bed with a concentrated pout.

“Um, good morning to you guys?”

“We're trying to figure out if you're handsome even when you're asleep,” Taehyung declares seriously, turning away with a disappointed expression.

Seokjin takes the opportunity to get to his feet, still swollen with sleep and his mouth slurred. He rubs his eyes.

“I am.”

Jimin snorts in annoyance. “We've noticed.”

“Can it be that the two of you have nothing else to do?” he chides them mockingly.

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a knowing look, read each other's minds for a few seconds, and then sneer. Seokjin knows this is not a good sign.

“Hugging war?”

Taehyung nods vigorously and shouts cheerfully. “Hugging war.”

In an instant, Seokjin is invaded by two bodies twisting around him and not letting him breathe. He tries to complain about the weight, about the fact that he cannot breathe, but finally he cannot resist and begins to laugh at that sudden need to cuddle, letting the two younger ones do whatever they want.
It’s a good awakening.

That's the way it should be, they all think, as they divide themselves into different activities: Taehyung and Jimin decide to devote themselves to cooking all day, following a recipe for a dessert they want the rest of the team to taste that evening. They soil every single surface in the kitchen - because they end up fighting, of course, throwing chocolate powder into each other's hair - but they have fun and their laughter is audible throughout the house. Jungkook and Hoseok, on the other hand, gather in the expansive open space in front of the house because the younger one wants to learn new dance steps that Hoseok has absorbed from his street dance friends over the past year. Watching them move so well, Jungkook quickly learning each teaching, is an almost moving image, Seokjin reflects as he passes them to go for a walk in the woods with Yoongi.

The two of them, the older ones, have decided to indulge in a nature trail, to explore the forest and its wonders without a specific goal. Or rather, Seokjin has no goal, while Yoongi has brought along a tape recorder because he insists that recording the sounds of nature might give him the right inspiration to make new music.

When they arrive at the small path where Seokjin had wandered a few days earlier, the one where he crossed the path of Ji Yun and his white tulip, the boy unconsciously leads Yoongi elsewhere. He is not sure why, perhaps he wants to preserve the small clearing only in his memories, as if it were something personal, or perhaps he is distressed at the idea that he might find the white tulip is gone.

The only one who does not have a moment to relax is Namjoon, who has locked himself in his room so that he can give phone interviews with the international press. His role as leader and the group's only english speaker comes back to weigh on him like a boulder even at the least appropriate times.

“That sucks,” Yoongi comments referring to Namjoon's schedule. “Sometimes I think his role should be divided among more people, I feel bad leaving him with all that responsibility.”

Seokjin nods, following him into the trees. “I know. But who could really give him a hand? You who gives a sh*t about everything? Hoseok who always lets the little ones win like a mother in love?” he pauses. “Me?”

“Why? You would make a good leader,” Yoongi retorts, covering his head with a hat ridiculously larger than his head.

“Are you kidding me? Me a good leader? I'm barely a good vocalist,” he chuckles, immediately regretting letting those words slip out. Yoongi turns to look at him with an impassive expression, crosses his arms and stares at him seriously, putting him in awe.

“Where did these words come from?”

“I was joking,” Seokjin looks around nervously, hoping the cameraman understands that he needs to take a step back and not necessarily film everything about their conversation.

“You were not.” sh*t. Why does Yoongi have to be so perceptive and why does he have to look at him with that intensity that makes him uncomfortable?

“No one can be a leader like Namjoon, Yoongi.”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean that each of us doesn't have a key role. A leader is nothing without the right team to lead.”

Yoongi is probably right, but this does not mean that the acid in Seokjin's mouth diminishes at the thought of what he thinks about himself. It's like a fear: he knows it's an irrational and unreasonable thought, but nevertheless it's there inside him and it feeds stupidly.

“Have you been able to write anything or think about your music these days?” the younger man asks him out of the blue.

Seokjin hums. “I thought about it, I wrote something but I don't know if it's good.”

“I could help you if you want. Give you a second opinion,” Yoongi exclaims, stretching out on tiptoe to better register the sound of wind in the leaves of a tree.

Seokjin ignores him, looking up at the tree. “Komorebi,” he whispers.

“What?”

“Komorebi,” he points to the tree in front of them. “The light filtering through the leaves of the trees. Isn't it beautiful?”

Yoongi slowly breaks open into one of those gingery smiles that so distinguish him. For a moment Seokjin feels almost flattered that he was the cause of that adorable expression.

“You know, hyung, I've noticed lately that you seem to be very attentive to little things, especially the little things in nature.” More specifically, although he doesn't say it out loud, Yoongi is thinking about the time last night when he caught Seokjin observing a misshapen tomato with a different color than the others for whole minutes, and then exclaiming, “Isn't that special?”

Without looking up at the beam of light passing through the tree, Seokjin says, “Really? I didn't notice.”

“Yes. Maybe it could be a good starting point, right? For your music, I say.”

Seokjin levels his gaze with Yoongi's, forgetting the light. He thinks about it for a while before responding, because when it comes to Yoongi he never wants to take what he says for granted - he has a high regard for his way of thinking.

When he looks up, Seokjin thinks he wants to die. Is there anything more embarrassing? In a corner of the hallway, between the door to Yoongi's room and Seokjin's, where the cameras don't reach, Namjoon is cornering Dohyun, their lips glued together in a languid kiss. Namjoon's hands are on the cameraman's tight hips, he's squeezing his flesh as if he wants to turn him inside out. Dohyun is no less: the mild-mannered In The Soop crew member seems more than caught up in the seductive atmosphere of the moment, his hands clutching the back of Namjoon's neck as if it were his only lifeline.

Seokjin, for his part, just wants to die. Where is the fatal accident when he needs it? He wants to bury himself in the ground, go blind, stop breathing. Anything but see those two licking his face longingly as an image etched in his memory. Yes, still, he wants to die. Maybe if he closes his eyes and never opens them again at some point death will be kind to him. Yes, welcome to Kim Seokjin's fabulous guide to how to be f*cking melodramatic.

“sh*t,” Dohyun exclaims, noticing Seokjin's presence a few meters away from them. He pushes Namjoon away abruptly and slips out of his grasp to put distance between them. Namjoon looks surprised for a moment, then turns to see what interrupted their erotic moment.

Seokjin turns his back, embarrassment trying to take over, but he soon remembers that he is not the one who should be uncomfortable. He is not the one who was caught making out with the BTS leader. However, he still wants to die.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here,” he says after clearing his throat. “Carry on, please, I'm going back— I mean I'm going back down,” wow, this is so embarrassing.

“No, no,” Dohyun says alarmed. “I better go, my break is over anyway.” With his head down and his stride faster than a cheetah, Dohyun runs off down the stairs.

Seokjin feels sorry for him, almost feels the urge to yell at him to take it easy, he has done nothing wrong. But of course he remains silent, because what the f*ck, sometimes minding your own business is the best way to survive. Namjoon remains motionless in the hallway watching the scene confused, silent.

“Well, sorry again,” mumbles Seokjin to Namjoon, shrugging his shoulders and fleeing exactly like Dohyun, only more slowly.

“Jin, wait,” Namjoon reaches out to him, brushing his arm, without grabbing it. That's enough for Seokjin to turn to face him. He struggles to look relaxed, at ease. Nothing happened, did it? He just caught the guy he was f*cking with until a few months ago, as well as one of his best friends and part of his family, making out with his boyfriend.Why does this upset him so much?

“Yoongi told me that you are trying to work on your music. He also told me that he would like to propose that you spend the afternoon in his room while he works on his music, hoping it will give you some inspiration,” Seokjin doesn't understand what he's getting at, but he can't bring himself to interrupt him. “I told him you can't because you've already agreed with me to work on your music,” he smirks.

Seokjin looks bewildered. “Why?”

“Because Yoongi is basically a pain in the ass, and I know how uncomfortable this whole music thing makes you feel.”

“Yah, Namjoon-ah! You lied.”

“But I know you. I'm right, aren't I?”

Yes.

“You didn't need to do that.”

“I know that, okay? But it's what I wanted to do. It's my choice.”

Seokijin sees the sincerity in his eyes, softens.

“And trust me, you don't want to be stuck alone with Yoongi all day while he works. Even I can't handle that.”

Jin conjures a smile. “Thank you.”

“We're friends, right?”

Relief sinks into Seokjin's chest and dissipates. His gaze fades, forces a smile. “Yeah, right.”

So that's how the two find themselves in Namjoon's room, a tape recorder and papers, colored pens and a strange, fibrillating air.

“Can I read what you've already written?” Namjoon points to the papers in Seokjin's hands. He hands them to him without putting up much resistance, because he doesn't actually think they can be very useful. Namjoon begins to read, concentrating as if it were a complicated novel. Seokjin thinks he is taking far too long, it's just silly sentences, so here comes the subtle nervousness and makes him bite his lip. He remains silent though, afraid of destroying that beautiful image, which is Namjoon, with one leg dangling absentmindedly at the foot of the bed, his head bent over the papers, his brow furrowed and his lips curled in concentration. He can't think it enough: Namjoon is really beautiful.

“So?” he finally cuts the silence.

Namjoon looks up. “There's this...pattern,” he taps a finger on the papers. “Snow moon cuts the river. Jasmine on the breeze fills my room.”

“Yeah. Those are the sentences of a five-year-old, I know,” Seokjin downplays but Namjoon is quick to shake his head and interrupt him. “No, it's a path. You may not know the direction yet, but you're already saying something.”

Oh. Seokjin didn't see that coming.

“If you're having difficulty moving forward, it's because you don't really know what.”

“It must be so good to be a genius poet.”

Namjoon looks at him as if he has just slapped him. “You don't mean that.”

“Why? It's the truth.” Why does he look so indignant at the compliment?

Namjoon shakes his head and looks away. “Writing is painful,” he pauses as if gathering his thoughts and the right things to say. Seokjin senses that the air is thickening between them; he holds his breath unconsciously. “Can I confess something to you? If I could, I'd rather not be a 'poet genius,' as you say. It hurts. The point is that you have to do art, which in my case is writing and composing music, when you think you would die if you didn't. It's suffocating.”

Seokjin blinks, completely enraptured by the depth of Namjoon's words, but especially by the intensity of tone with which he spoke them. His voice low and hoarse, uncertainty as nuance, his eyes shining with both light and fear.Seokjin gets it.

“Art comes to me as intuition, listening, the use of my surroundings. How does it come to you, hyung? What is it that you find painful? You've written before.”

“Well, you're actually right. Super Tuna is a song that came out after an intoxication, I threw up all night, it was painful,” Seokjin smirks trying to lighten the situation.

Namjoon throws the papers at him. “Yah, hyung! Stop teasing me.” Seokjin laughs heartily, leans back in his chair, and puts a hand on his stomach to contain the gleeful vibrations. It doesn't help that Namjoon, big and tall as he is, pouts so adorably in indignation.

“Okay, okay,” he tries to catch his breath and restore his composure. “I'm sorry, I'll concentrate now.”

Namjoon gives him an unconvinced look. “Do you really need help?”

“What do you mean?”

“You write well. You can also compose. You don't need me or Yoongi to tell the truth. And you know it.”

“You have a higher idea of me than I deserve.”

“You're doing it again,” Namjoon squints his eyes taking on a suspicious expression. Even his body, previously relaxed on the bed, now assumes a more rigid, controlled position. Seokjin watches Namjoon sit up straight at the edge of the bed, never looking away from him.

“Come here,” he whispers in a slight authoritative tone out of the blue. Seokjin is taken aback by Namjoon's sudden change, feels the air around them shift into something more serious, complex. Seokjin is no longer in power now.

“I'm comfortable here, thank you.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Come here for a second.”

In Seokjin's eyes, the boy can sense uncertainty and also the moment when he finally gives in, choosing to approach Namjoon cautiously. Seokjin drags his chair until he is sitting inches from him, their knees ready to brush against each other.

“What is it?” he asks uncomfortably, after a few seconds of silence. The younger man is brazenly studying him with some attention.

“I notice it, you know?” he finally says. “I've noticed how lately you tend to let words slip out, sometimes small phrases, that don't sit well with me.”

sh*t, Seokjin thinks, why does it have to be so intense when he talks to him so closely?

“I don't like the way you underestimate yourself. It's like you think you're not enough.”

Am I?

“Of course you are.” Wait. Did he just say that out loud? No, of course he didn't. It's only Namjoon who always knows exactly what to say.

“I know you, Jin,” he uses his abbreviated name with confidence, intimacy. “You have a whole world, inside you, with very high walls that you don't let anyone knock down. Why can't you write music? Why do you have so much difficulty working on your album?” Namjoon sighs. “I have a theory.”

“Of course you do.”

“I think you can't work on your music because you don't have the courage to break down.”

Seokjin swallows conspicuously, but the knot in his throat makes it harder. He doesn't say a word. Perhaps because Namjoon has hit the nail on the head.

“Am I wrong?”

“You don't always know everything, Namjoon-ah.”

“Come on, let's drop the pretense. I don't like us acting like nothing happened between us. We are both well that we know each other very well. We know each other in ways others probably don't.”

Seokjin stiffens, sensing the slight note of impatience in the way Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek. They stand looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds, Seokjin not daring to breathe a word.

They had always had some sort of secret, silent rule that it was best to avoid reading about themselves online, but Seokjin did. In his post-enlistment period, he felt lonely and knew full well that deep down the other members did too, in their darkest moments. Articles, comments, and the most disparate and ridiculous theories about him flooded the web. Users from all over the world demanded to know him, to give their opinion about him as if he were a subject and not a human being. It was disgusting, but unavoidable. It was annoying, but Seokjin could not stop right away.

And slowly, the doubts he has always harbored inside, the evil voices that are part of each of us, began to grind thoughts and make him wonder - hey, am I really enough for BTS? Am I really that indispensable or am I an interchangeable member of the group? Maybe I just got lucky.

That's why, after all, Seokjin is terrified of working on his only album. He is terrified of having it confirmed that no one cares about him, or that just few people are interested in his music or his talent. That would kill him.

“Let's do one thing,” Namjoon then exclaims out of the blue, getting to his feet. “Get on the bed, standing up,” he continues. Seokjin frowns in bewilderment. What is going on? What did he miss?

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, humor me,” Namjoon is serious.

“What do you want to do? What's that got to do with music now?”

“Do you trust me, Jin?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just...get on the bed, okay?” Namjoon stands in front of the bed, standing and opening his arms. “Just jump in and trust that I will catch you.”

Seokjin blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Are you serious?”

Namjoon doesn't answer, doesn't laugh. He is deadly serious.

“I won't get on the bed, it's ridiculous. Can we go back to talking about music? If not, I'm leaving,” he says annoyed.

“Don't be a child, humor me for a second.”

“Ah, I'm the child?”

“sh*t, can you do as I say one blessed time?” asks Namjoon losing his patience. Seokjin is astonished by that reaction and, slightly uncomfortable, decides to humor Namjoon by climbing onto the bed. He tries to keep his balance, there from above Namjoon looks shorter and smaller.

He sighs. “Okay, then?”

“Turn around and let yourself fall.”

Hesitating, Seokjin decides not to protest but moves slowly. He turns and stays like that, his back to Namjoon in silence for a few seconds. It's bullsh*t what he's asked of him; it shouldn't be any more difficult than any of the steps in the choreographies they've done throughout their careers. Yet Seokjin notices that his body struggles to launch itself without thinking about it too much. To surrender to the void, despite knowing that he will not fall.

“If you trust me, you will fall,” Namjoon says behind him. And Seokjin lets out a long sigh, feeling his chest vibrate from a weight he didn't know he possessed.

And then he lets go. For a moment he feels emptiness; it’s an imperceptible moment and a very long one, too. Then two firm, strong arms grab him by the shoulders and keep him from falling. Seokjin collapses onto Namjoon's body awkwardly, realizing too late how concretely their bodies cling together. Comfortable. He turns his head and wishes he had never done it: he is so close to Namjoon's face, his eyes hurt. The boy still holds him firmly and tightly even though there is no need, Seokjin lands with his feet and can no longer fall. He is so close it is painful, he wants to look away but it would be worse.

“I got you.”

“So what?”

“You trust me.”

Seokjin continues to murmur in silence. “So what?”

“So if you trust me, can you believe me when I tell you that you are enough?”

Seokjin petrifies in his arms. Not because he is suddenly uncomfortable, but because those words, whispered almost on his lips, hit him with too much intensity. He squirms in his grip.

Namjoon carefully takes in every detail of his face. He stops his eyes, unabashedly, on Seokjin's lips. He could kiss him. He is thinking about it. No one would stop him from doing it, nothing would stop him from capturing his lips, biting and devouring them to make him forget everything. Seokjin would make him do it. Seokjin should not make him do it.

“You're nervous,” he comments gently. “Why?”

“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin exhales.

“What?”

“Stop.”

For a few seconds, it seems Namjoon doesn't want to listen to him, but then he finally backs off with his body, giving him room to breathe. He sighs.

Nothing moves in the room for a few moments; the air is heavy, pregnant with their thoughts.

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair. “I was telling the truth, though,” he finally turns to look at Seokjin again, softening with a small smile. “Now I expect you to start believing it.”

Still lost in the hazy intensity of the last few minutes, Seokjin takes a while to nod.

“In the meantime, let's get back to the music, okay?” he forces a smile. “And by the way, you really should recommend your personal trainer. I know I’ve already asked, but are you by any chance made of stone?”

Seokjin has never been good at changing the subject. And judging by Namjoon's confused expression, he must not have improved much in recent years. Nevertheless, Namjoon does not insist on bringing the conversation back to more serious tracks.

“Hyung, you wouldn't go to the gym even if they promised you all the seafood in the world,” he says, teasing him. Seokjin laughs, and that's enough to return to their seats and pretend, once again, that there is nothing more to say.