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When you are in too much pain, you stop feeling it.
There were voices around the bed I’d been lying on for the past twenty-seven hours.“Patient’s ICP is increasing!”“Contact OR immediately.”“He won't make it there.”The voices started to blur, as though they were on land and I was miles under the ocean.
No, I won’t make it there. I won't make it anywhere.
I won't make it.
“He's flatlining!”“Ready the defibrillator!”Hands pulled the clothes at my chest.“Clear!”Cold metal plates touched my skin and a jolt coursed through me, lifting me from the bed and slamming me back down again.“Clear!”Another jolt more powerful than the last.For four more times they tried. Yet my stubborn heart didn't yield, refusing to start beating on its own again.
I won't make it.
A long and steady screech pierced the air.That moment on, RM ceased to exist.So did Kim Namjoon.::::::::::I didn't believe in reincarnation, nor do I believe that angels would descend upon your last breath and usher you into a splendid afterlife.That was why I'd worked as hard as I had— powering through packed schedules despite injuries, performing every time as if it was my last, writing songs after songs.You only get one chance to live. You don't get to do it again.But death wasn't what I’d expected.I’d thought that I’d simply stop being, that my soul would disperse into units of energy that returned to nature, that the world would fade as though the stage curtains had fallen to a close.No.I was still in the room, occupying a corner of it as I watched the doctors and nurses step away from the bed. Nobody noticed me.In death, my body looked unfamiliar to me with its heavily bandaged head, a slackened mouth, and eyes that’d never open again.I turned away from myself.A doctor left the room, and I followed. My members and the managers were in the corridor just outside. Some leaned against the wall while some sat on the black plastic chairs or on the floor. All of them had their eyes on the ground. The members were still in their stage clothes from the day before.When the doctor emerged, they rose and converged upon him.Hoseok grabbed the doctor by the sides of his arm. “How is he now?” He looked at the doctor with so much hope in his eyes that it stung me.The cliched shake of the head and the pause that followed was so much louder than anything the doctor could’ve said.A sob choked out of Jimin. Taehyung stumbled into the wall, as though the news of my death had sapped him of all energy. Jungkook’s eyes were wide the way they were whenever their owner was scared or in shock.Hoseok’s hands fell away in a daze. “That’s impossible.”“The patient’s injuries were too severe. The trauma to his head—”Yoongi barrelled to the front and tried to shove the doctor back into the room.“Go save him then!”Jin hooked his arms under Yoongi’s and held him back. “Yoongi, no.”The doctor was sympathetic. “We tried our best to—”“Don't give me that bullshit,” Yoongi snarled. “If you tried hard enough, you’d be able to bring him back. Namjoon wouldn't, he wouldn’t…”His voice became too shaky to finish his words. He balled his hands into fists, and his shoulders shook. Jin held Suga close, stroking his back while he swallowed his own tears.I'm still here, I tried to say, but I could produce no sounds.I reached out a hand to lay on Jungkook’s shoulder, but it passed right through him.Of all the things I’d accomplished as their leader, this was the thing that left me helpless. I could not tell them how sorry I was. I could not offer any comfort.There was nothing I could do except to watch as they, one by one, fell apart in front of me.::::::::::The coffin on the remote-controlled metal cart moved steadily toward the colossal oven waiting at the other end. Above in the viewing hall, mourners dressed in black had their hands locked in front of them, their heads solemnly bowed.My family and my members took the front row.The cart stopped in front of the oven. The coffin rose. Smoothly but slowly, it slid off the cart and into the oven.Tears pattered down onto the glossy floor beneath the mourners’ feet.There was a sense of finality as the oven’s gate came down. I felt empty, surreal. Even if I could come back to life, there’d be no body for me to return to. In three hours, maybe less, I'd be ash.My mother swayed, and my sister folded her into her arms. My father wept silently.But it was my members whom I was worried about the most. Hours ago, they’d been my pall bearers. We weren't related by blood, but I’d spent the the largest, most vibrant part of my life with them.We’d shared victories and defeat, joy and sorrow, anger and disappointment. We fought, we made up, we fought again. I’d been confident that I knew them inside out, but as I watched them now, I realised I was uncertain what my death would do, or had done, to them.Their reactions as they lost sight of my coffin spanned a spectrum: Yoongi flattened his lips into a sullen line; Hoseok sank onto a bench and sobbed into his hands; Jimin tilted his head to the ceiling, as though that’d stop the tears trickling down the curve of his cheeks; Taehyung’s eyes were wide and dry as they stared blankly at where my coffin had been; Jungkook had his head bowed as his tears fell to the ground like raindrops, Jin’s arm around his shoulders.We'd talked about death before, recognized and accepted in good cheer that we wouldn't be around forever. We’d joked about who’d outlast who. We'd imagined attending each other's funerals, where we’d cry a few tears then gather in a bar to raise a toast to the deceased and laugh over fond memories.Back then, we could be blithe because death was a distant thing, a final destination that we moved slowly toward, not a shadow that slammed into us and claimed without warning, without time to say our goodbyes.As I watched my members, I wanted to pry into their minds and gain access to the gamut of their feelings. There was one thing I desperately, desperately wanted to know:What had my death done to them?::::::::::Most of the people had left the viewing hall. Jin and one of the managers were talking to my family, pushing away their own grief to offer condolences. I was thankful for that.Jimin sat next to Hoseok on the bench, their fingers tightly interwoven together. In his soothing voice, Jimin murmured words of comfort to calm Hoseok down. You could always count on Jimin to be the unwavering pillar even in the harshest of storms.Yoongi, Taehyung and Jungkook were nowhere to be found. As I started to worry for them, I noticed someone looking in my direction. There was no other word to describe him than exotic. His face and stature was neither male nor female. The only thing that suggested the former was the men’s suit he was wearing. I couldn’t put an ethnic group on him because no one I’d ever seen looked the way he did.Our eyes met across the distance.He wasn't only looking in my direction. He was looking at me.He raised a hand in a wave that I was too stunned to return. He approached me, passing right through people as though he was immaterial, just like I had in the past two days.Another soul of the dead?“The souls of the dead can't see each other,” he said, reading my mind. “So no, I'm not one.”Who are you then? The thought had barely been formed when he answered.“I bring spirits to where they belong.”
Grim reaper?
He crinkled his nose in what seemed like distaste. “I prefer to be called The Facilitator.”Death was a strange thing that defied all of my pre-conceived notions.Are you here to take me away? A surge of panic accompanied the thought. I didn't think I was ready to go.“No, not yet at least. Not until you’ve used all of your five wishes.”Again, he answered before the question was properly asked. It was disconcerting.He seemed to notice how uncomfortable I was, for he stopped saying anything despite the questions whirling in my mind.“Five wishes?” It made me feel better to ask with my own mouth, even though he'd probably seen the question coming a mile away.“They are a privilege for those who died too suddenly.” He looked at me meaningfully. “The wishes help them find closure and transition to the next world in peace.”I have never heard of this in any religion. I was skeptical, but I couldn't deny an excitement had been sparked.“What can I wish for?”“Anything you want. Except for coming back to life, of course.”I refrained from rolling my eyes. It wasn't as if I had a corporeal body to return to.“Be prudent though.” His eyes were of a pale, severe gray. “Think your wishes through. The more general your wish is, the weaker its effect.”“That isn't how wishes are supposed to work.”He shrugged, as though saying live with it. “Well, death isn't what you'd supposed it to be, is it?”He pulled a pocket watch out of his breast pocket, checked the time, and straightened himself. “There’s somewhere else I need to be now. Remember, use your wishes wisely. Till then.”He tipped his head and was gone.For a long time, I digested the information. The people in the viewing hall left one by one, until only Jimin and Hoseok were left.I still didn't know how the wishes work, but I’d take whatever I was given.Five wishes.Five wishes to make it all better.
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After my death, all BTS activities were stopped and concerts were cancelled. Our company released an official statement that the members’d be given as much time as they needed to grieve, imploring the press to give them space.For the first time in a long while, the members spent all their time in the dorm. I was there with them every minute. Sometimes I’d catch a member looking directly at the spot I was at — next to the sofa or at the glossy counter that separated the living room from the kitchen — and I’d feel a startle of elation.You can see me, I’d think.However when the next second rolled about and they looked away, I’d berate myself for being ridiculous. Of course they couldn’t see me. It was just my desperation pushing me to think otherwise.My premature death stirred a frenzy in the entertainment industry, maybe even beyond. News and articles covered the accident that caused my death. TV stations broadcast special episodes about me. Condolences in the form of tweets and flower wreaths poured in from all over the world. Fans held gatherings in their respective countries to mourn for BTS’s beloved leader.Outside the dorm, grief was loud, expressed in voices and words. Inside, however, grief took the form of a permeating quiet. The living room and the dining room were empty most of the time, the members keeping to their own rooms as they tried to come to terms with my death in their own ways. Jin laughed and teared as he watched BTS videos on YouTube. Yoongi read the novels that’d been gathering dust in his room for the past couple of years. Taehyung stayed in bed all day, his face buried in his pillow. Jungkook threw himself into video games and weight training. Roommates Hoseok and Jimin talked about me. They were the only ones who did so. For the others, my absence was the proverbial elephant in the room that, if discussed, would only cause raw wounds to hurt more.I didn’t blame them.They deserved to take all the time they needed. Still, I hoped that they’d move on sooner rather than later.::::::::::Three days after my funeral, Jin came out of his room as soon as dawn broke over the horizon. He headed to the 24-hour mart across the street and came back with bags straining at the seams with groceries.Enthusiastically, he rolled up his sleeves and began pulling the ingredients out of the bags. He busied himself in the kitchen, chopping green onions, boiling glass noodles, slicing ham and sausages. He mumbled to himself as he worked, occasionally bursting into laughter, probably from another old-man joke he'd randomly thought of.I should be relieved. This was the Jin that I knew. Yet I couldn't shake off a feeling of uneasiness.As Jin was dipping a spoon into the bubbling stew for a taste, Jungkook appeared at the threshold, his doe-like eyes taking in the cluttered counters.“Hyung, what are you doing?”Jin returned the lid to the pot. “We've been eating delivered meals so I figured that a little home-cooked food won't hurt. Help me, will you?”Jungkook looked confused, but he obliged, slicing beef into thin strips under Jin’s instruction.Soon, Hoseok and Jimin were up as well. Like Jungkook, they didn't question Jin even though they were obviously puzzled. They helped out in what seemed like Jin’s quest to whip up a feast fit for the royals.Jin cracked jokes as they worked. Jimin humored him, laughing the loudest even though mirth never quite reached his eyes. Hoseok and Jungkook smiled when Jin sought reactions from them, but as soon as Jin turned away, their faces became solemn once again.One by one, dishes filled the table — kimbap, japchae; boiled pork belly, soybean paste stew, just to name a few.Jungkook laid out the cutlery that Jimin’d handed him from the drawer. “Hyung, we’re short of one set.”Jimin scanned the table and exchanged a grave glance with Hoseok.The fact was, Jimin did the math correctly. Seven had been the habit, but six was now correct.“Jungkook-ah…” Hoseok began.He didn't have to finish his sentence for Jungkook to realize his mistake. Horror froze his face. His eyes swung between Hoseok and Jimin in panic.“I-I'm sorry, Hyung. I-I didn't mean to. I j-just forgot—”Jin, who’d overheard the exchange, interrupted. “Jungkook, why don't you go wake Yoongi and Taehyung up?”Jungkook grabbed the escape rope Jin’d thrown him and hurried away.“It's going to take a lot more getting used to,” said Jimin, his face downcast.Jin rested a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay.”“Will we?” Hoseok murmured out of reflex. He gazed at Jin for an answer.Jin stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then he pulled his mouth into a wide smile meant to comfort and reassure. “Eventually we will.”Neither Jimin and Hoseok said anything to that. If they disagreed, they'd hurt their eldest hyung, but agreeing would be a betrayal to the one who was no longer around. And so the conversation plateaued into silence.Jungkook returned with a listless Taehyung. The members sat around the table. I didn't miss the way Jungkook avoided the seat he and I used to fight over in all childishness. Yoongi was the last to join, his face hard and devoid of any emotions.They didn't dive right into the food. They looked unsure, as if waiting instruction. Jin rose to the occasion.“Let’s dig in.”Jin begin piling food onto his own plate. The others followed tentatively except for Yoongi, who merely stared at the table, the muscles along his jaw tense.Good-natured Jimin transferred a few slices of pork onto Yoongi’s plate. “Here, Hyung.”Yoongi ignored his gesture. Jimin looked disappointed, but he didn't push.Jin spoke the most and the loudest, about all things trivial. Jimin seemed to be the only one preventing the conversation from becoming an over-the-top monologue by Jin. Even then it felt strained.“Here’s another dad joke: What do you call the security outside of a Samsung store?” Jin looked expectantly at the members. They shrugged. “Guardians of the Galaxy!”Jin dissolved into laughing fits. Jimin and Hoseok smiled out of courtesy, Jungkook was confused, and Taehyung looked as though he hadn't heard the joke. It was, however, Yoongi who spoke.“Do you honestly think that this is a right thing to do?” His icy voice froze the atmosphere. “Joking and throwing a feast like we didn't just lose a member?”The members flinched. It was the first time that someone had brought up my death so openly. After a few days of pretending that the void I’d left behind didn't exist, they were now forced to look it in the eye. As a group, no less.I had envisioned them opening up to one another about me eventually. In my imagination, they were vulnerable, but they talked and they laughed. They cried too, because sometimes you need to break completely before you can piece yourself back together.I didn't expect what I was feeling now: an air fraught with tension.Jin had stopped laughing. The smile on his face wobbled but he fought to keep it in place, as if Yoongi were a rebellious teenager he had to placate.“I know recent events have taken a toll on us. I just wanted all of us to come together for a meal.”“We will never be ‘all of us’ again,” said Yoongi bitterly, “so don’t even try.”Sadness dimmed Jin’s eyes. “Yoongi, the ones left behind need to continue living, no matter how tough it is. Namjoon, he, he’d want us to go back to our normal lives.”“Don’t tell me what Namjoon wants because you’re not him,” snapped Yoongi.“Don’t fight,” warned Hoseok, the corners of his lips sternly downturned. The maknae line leaned back from the table, their eyes swivelling back and forth between the three hyungs. As insolent as they might have appeared on TV, the maknaes always dread the quarrels that brewed between their hyungs.Yoongi cut a cold glance at Hoseok, which Hoseok didn’t back down from. The maknaes recoiled further.Yoongi rose slowly, and his chair scraped against the apartment’s wooden flooring. This time round, he looked at all of the members. They’d believe that he was angry, but only I knew that he was more hurt than anything else. He displayed anger more than hurt, because hurt meant surrender. Anger, though, showed that you are still resisting, still fighting. “If any of you knew Namjoon at all,” he said, his tone glacier, “you’d know that he wanted to be alive more than anything else, more than us eating happily without him.”As much as I wanted my members to go on without me, the sad fact was, Yoongi was right.He went back to his room, slamming the door behind him so hard that the entire house seemed to shake. Taehyung startled and lost grip of his chopsticks. They clattered to the floor.A pregnant pause of silence punctuated the air before Jungkook said, “Let me get you a new pair.” Jungkook made to get up, but Taehyung laid a hand on the inner crook of his elbow.“It’s okay. I’m not hungry anyway. Hyung, can I go back to sleep? I’m tired,” Taehyung looked at Jin for permission, worrying his lower lip.“You too?” Hoseok began irritably. “After everything that Jin hyung has—”“Hobi.” Jin shook his head. He offered Taehyung an understanding smile. “Go ahead. I’ll leave some food for you in fridge. Promise me you’ll eat later?”Taehyung nodded gratefully.Jungkook looked longingly at Taehyung’s retreating back, but he knew that Hoseok’d go berserk if he ever requested to leave. Instead he buried his face into his bowl of rice, shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth.For a brief moment, no one spoke.And then I saw how Jimin arranged his face into a bright smile, his eyes curving into crescents. When he spoke, his voice was bright, but years of living with each other had given me the ability to detect the slightest tremors in it.“Hyung, how about we go to the park later?” Jimin said.Jin clapped and brandished a thumbs up. “Sounds like a great idea! We’ll take the bikes and the frisbee. The weather looks nice for frisbee today. Hoseok, Jungkook, come with us. We need to stretch our muscles anyway.”On and on Jin went, in his loud fashion, as though the quarrel with Yoongi had never happened.::::::::::That night proved that I was right about my uneasiness.They came back from the park at twilight and were rowdy for a bit before they scattered to wash up.Jin returned to his room. He locked his door with a click so soft that no one could have heard unless they paid deliberate attention.Then his smile dropped, and the mask he wore came crumbling down.He pressed his back against the door and slid down its length to sit on the floor, his knees close to his chest. He buried his face into the crook of his arm. His shoulders slumped, and I could almost see the great weight of being BTS’s oldest slid off him.At that moment, he stopped being Jin, stopped being the hyung who’d taken upon himself to return some semblance of normalcy to his grieving dongsaengs’ lives. At that moment, he was just a tired man who was hurting as much as the rest, a man whose pretense had taken a toll on him.I understood why Jin found the need to do what he did.When we debuted, Bighit had crafted different concepts for all of us. For some of us, the given concepts warred with our true personalities, but we shed them gradually as our popularity grew and fans lapped up all our antics. We became less inhibited to show who we really were.For Jin, though, it was the other way round. He shook off his original role as the mature oldest and grew into his image as the childlike hyung who bickered and fought playfully with the younger members. He became the much needed mood-maker of our group. When we went on variety shows with hosts we’d never spoken to, he encouraged us to loosen up by being the boisterous one from the get-go. Whenever we found ourselves in a slump because our insecurities had caught up with us, he cracked awful jokes just to tease a smile or two out of us.At that seaside restaurant at Hawaii long ago, he’d told me that clowning around made the people around him happy, which in turn made him happy. His logic made sense at that time.Now, as I looked at his bowed head and listened to the weight of his breaths, I feared that he did the things he did because he didn’t know how to be anyone else but the positive and cheerful hyung in front of the younger members.I didn’t think it occured to him that he was burning himself out to light the others up.Don’t force yourself, I wanted to tell him. You deserve to grieve too.
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jin showed no signs of stopping.On one day, he prepared flour, sugar, butter, eggs and a whole lot of other ingredients and invited the members to a bake-off. On another day, he booked an entire arcade and brought the members there for a face-off just like the one we had on Run BTS. The most willing members were often Hoseok and Jimin. Taehyung and Jungkook tagged along out of obligation and had the tendency to be lost in their own thoughts when they thought no one was watching.Yoongi, on the other hand, holed himself in his room every day, unresponsive when Jin sent other members to ask him along. Jin and Yoongi had stopped talking to each other since the latter’s outburst at the dining table. Yoongi stopped speaking much to anyone at all, but the tension between Jin and him was a living thing.As big as our apartment was, there was still a sizeable possibility that we’d bump into each other in the common spaces no matter how much we stayed in our own rooms. When Yoongi saw Jin in the kitchen or the hallway outside the bathrooms, his lips would become flatter, and he’d ignore Jin with pointed animosity. I sensed Jin’s desire to be the one to reach out first, but Yoongi’s barbs and hard shell could scare anyone off.As their leader, I was frustrated and disappointed with all six of them. They seemed to have forgotten we had climbed heights and reached uncharted depths as a group because we never let our disagreements and quarrels simmer into resentment. We talked them out, laid bare our emotions and perspectives, reached an understanding, exchanged our apologies, became good again.Now, fractures was showing in Jin and Yoongi’s friendship. They were not talking about it, and the rest of the members were leaving it be. They still lived under the same roof. Yet it felt they had become rootless, left floating and drifting further apart. What would this mean for Bangtan?That night, Jin and Jungkook sat on the living room floor, playing Mario Kart on the console Hoseok won on Season’s Greetings a couple of years back. Jimin cheered for them from the sofa. On the mega screen that occupied the whole wall, Jungkook’s Yoshi fired a tortoise shell that careened right into Jin’s Princess Peach.Jimin broke into peals of laughter that sounded like a breeze passing through wind chimes. “Hyung, you're going to lose five times in a row!”Jin’s fingers moved furiously on the tiny controller. “Ya! How could you do this me? I raised you on my back! Does it hurt to let me win once?”Yoshi zapped past a still-reeling Princess Peach.“There's no such thing as brotherhood in Mario Kart. It's anybody’s game,” said Jungkook without taking his eyes off the TV, a small smirk quirking his lips. That instant of mischief and cockiness from the maknae was a streak of sunlight poking through the sky after days of dark clouds. It felt good to see Jungkook setting his grief aside, even if it was just temporary.Maybe this was what Jin was trying to give to the members: brief moments of respite from their sadness and loss.Needless to say, Jin lost that round. He switched spots with Jimin, entrusting the younger with the task of exacting revenge on his behalf. He cheered for Jimin and booed at Jungkook, distracting the maknae by tugging at his ears or tickling his neck. All of them, even Jungkook, laughed without restraint.I watched them from my corner, happy to be a spectator nobody could see. Perhaps my members would be okay after all.Then all of a sudden, the moment shattered. The console smashed to the ground and the screen became an expanse of blue with the words ‘no input’ blinking in the center. Laughter vanished. Jin, Jimin and Jungkook stared shellshocked at Yoongi, whose hand was clenched around the cables he’d just yanked out.
No, Yoongi.
Yoongi snapped his head back at the three of them, narrowing his eyes at Jin. He dropped the cables and stormed toward the eldest. It happened in a blur: Yoongi grabbed the front of Jin’s shirt, hoisted the elder up and slammed him against the nearest wall. Jin reeled, but Yoongi’s pinning grip was death like.All the years we had spent together, we had never gotten physical with each other unless it was play. Especially not Yoongi, whose choice weapons in moments of playful fights were often sarcasm more than fists.I knew a long time ago that grief and loss could transform a person, but witnessing it with my own eyes, on a person whom I’d come to see as a brother, unsettled me.Jimin and Jungkook dropped their controllers and scrambled up from the floor.“Hyung!” Jimin tried to peel Yoongi away from Jin.“Don't touch me!” Yoongi barked. Jungkook’s hands jerked away from Yoongi’s shoulders as though an electric current had shot through them. Jimin didn’t budge, but his hands became uncertain.“Yoongi—”“You disgust me, Kim Seokjin.”Shock flitted over Jin’s face, followed by hurt. Yoongi’s eyes scared me, because what darkened them was no longer just resentment, but also the stirrings of hatred.“Hyung!” Jimin shouted, incensed on Jin’s behalf. “Take your words back!”It was as if Yoongi didn’t hear him. He glared at Jin.“Are you really so eager to move on with your life? How pathetic can you be? If you had a shred of decency in you, just a shred, you wouldn’t be doing this to Namjoon. He didn’t matter to you, did he? And we don’t matter too, do we? What are we to you? Accessories to your fame that you won’t hesitate to cast aside when we are no longer worth anything?”Jin was a puppet whose strings had been cut off. His arms hung limply by his sides. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper.“What do you want me to do, Yoongi? Better yet, what do think Namjoon’d want me to do? Because I want to know too.”
Stop fighting. Talk to each other. Bond over your grief instead of being driven apart by it. Come to terms with my absence. Find closure.
So many wants. Yet no way to get them across.“Why?” Yoongi’s voice cracked. The hand he’d twisted around the fabric of Jin’s collar seemed to have lost its strength. “Why are you so eager to forget that Namjoon ever existed? We spent eight years together. Eight years, Hyung.”That moment, I saw the real Yoongi. Underneath all that anger was a boy who felt confused and betrayed because he’d been thrust into a world he couldn’t make sense of.Jin moved Yoongi’s hand away from his throat. He did so gently, embracing and forgiving all the hurt Yoongi’d inflicted with his words. Yoongi didn’t resist, but his shoulders shook with the effort of holding his tears back.Jin pushed away from the wall and brushed past Jimin and Jungkook to where the console laid on the floor.“Jin Hyung…” Jimin began uncertainly.“I think of him when I see the bathroom doorknob he’d destroyed right before we went for our tour,” Jin picked up the console and cables. He seemed to be speaking to himself. “I think of him when I open the fridge and see the cans of Redbull he took to stay up working on music all night. I think of him when I come across his handwriting on slips of papers he left all over the place because that's our Namjoon for you — a genius and a scatterbrain at the same time.”Jimin’s and Jungkook’s eyes followed Jin’s every move.“I think of him every day,” Jin set the console back to its original position and plugged the cables in, “because how could I not?”The TV screen jumped back to life. Mario and friends raced and sparred against a background of upbeat music.“Leader. Composer. Lyricist. Producer. Poet. Everything he was, I am not.” Jin turned to face the rest, his eyes pausing on each member for a full second before moving on to the next, as if he was searching for answers. “What should I do then to show that I'm worth something to this group? Because right now when all of you look at me, I can't help but feel like I should have been the one who died.”The silence that embraced the living room was deafening. It seemed even louder than the cartoonish sound effects from the TV.“That’s not—”“So if there's something else I could do, someone else you need me to be, let me know,” Jin said as though Jimin hadn't interrupted. His eyes were on Yoongi, who stood with his shoulders hunched and fists clenched by his sides.Jimin carded a hand through his hair in frustration, like he couldn't understand how a casual night of games had devolved so rapidly into this. Jungkook worried his lower lip, looking like he was about to cry.The calmest in the room was Jin, but his calm resembled the deathly silence after destruction, neither settling the heart nor restoring peace to the mind. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened them again, his lips were touched by a smile.Not the kind of smile that brightened his entire face and made his eyes glitter with excitement. More than anything, he looked tired, like a defeated soldier finally forced to admit that he had no idea what he'd been fighting for all these while.This was who Jin really was. This was the side he’d never showed anyone.He checked the crystal clock on the wall. “Wow look how late it already is. I should go to bed. My old body can't keep up with you youngsters.” He chuckled softly to himself. “Jiminie, if you’d tidy up for me please.”As Jin made to leave the living room, Jimin’s and Jungkook’s arms raised, as if wanting to stop him and force him to stay and talk. They didn't. I wasn't sure if I wanted them to.At the junction where the living room angled into the hallway where the bedrooms were, Jin met Taehyung. The younger had been hiding behind a wall and watching the confrontation. His eyebrows were pinched in worry.“Hyung…”Jin smiled as though saying that he'd be fine, but I rather he didn't at all.“Just don't say anything for now, okay?” He told Taehyung, and left, leaving Taehyung with nothing but the back view of a man holding himself together until he could fall apart where no one else would see.::::::::::But Jin didn’t fall apart. Not on the outside. That night, he just laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling until he fell into pauses of sleep.There was no breakfast waiting for the members the following morning. Without Jin’s exuberant calls for breakfast and the clinks and clangs of pots and pans, the house was as quiet as it’d been in the initial days after my death. Jin became another Yoongi and Taehyung, choosing to stay in his room instead. Jungkook was cooped in his room too, though that was unsurprising because even when I’d been alive, our maknae’d always needed lots of time and space to himself.I stayed with Jin. After what happened last night, I felt like I should keep an eye on him. I was perhaps no longer their leader by default, but my sense of responsibility didn’t simply stop just because I was dead. In life, I’d observed and made sure that they were okay. In death, I did the same. Though in the latter case, there was nothing I could do even if they were not. My presence — or absence, depending on the way you looked — was about as useful as a drop of water in the face of raging fire.How infuriating.In his room, Jin sat on the corner couch, his guitar propped across his thighs. His fingers tinkered with the tuning and plucked at the strings, stray notes reverberating in the air. He was quiet, and the thing was, Jin was hardly quiet. Even when he was alone at a task, he used to muse aloud and cycle through a series of expressions — frowning when he stumbled into difficulty, grinning when he had it solved. Now his face was smooth of any emotion. It made me think of a robot that had reached the end of its steam, reduced to a shell in the corner.I was torn. On one hand, he needed the space to straighten his thoughts and emotions after last night. On the other, I was afraid that he was driving himself into a dead end.When lunchtime approached, knuckles rapped on Jin’s door twice. It opened and Hoseok’s head poked in. Jin looked up, a practised smile on his face.“Hyung, Jimin and I are heading out for lunch. Can we get you anything?”Jin shook his head. “I'm good. Ask Taehyung and Yoon—” A shadow crossed Jin’s face, and his eyes fell.Habits were hard to break.Through the hairline cracks that’d appeared in his mask, we glimpsed the hurt that roiled beneath his pretense. Hoseok sighed, slipping into the room and gently closing the door behind him.He sat on the edge of the bed and faced Jin solemnly. “Jimin told me what happened last night.”I wasn't surprised. Neither was Jin.Grown as they were, the maknae line behaved like deers caught in headlights whenever their hyungs quarreled with each other. They became dumb spectators as their other hyungs — those not involved in the fight — stepped in to mediate the conflict. Now, with Yoongi out of the question and my permanent absence, the task rested on Hoseok.“How are you doing this morning?” Hoseok asked, searching Jin’s face carefully.“Not as bad as you think I am.” Jin broke the eye contact and lowered his eyes back onto the guitar.“Yoongi hyung…he’s not himself these days. He’s not good at dealing with loss and the unexpected. With how long the seven of us were together, it was so easy to believe that what we had was forever.”“I know.” Jin twisted the tuning keys without looking up. “I’m not angry with him.”“You’re not, and that’s what’s worrying. Yoongi hyung may be processing Namjoon’s death harder than all of us combined but that doesn’t give him the free pass to do or say the things he did. You have every right to be angry. We want you to be angry. Better angry than this…” Hoseok gestured in the air, searching for words. “This quiet.”A small sigh of frustration escaped Jin. He lifted his head and met Hoseok’s eyes, his fingers stilling over his guitar.“That’s the problem, Hobi,” Jin whispered, weary confusion woven into his voice. “If I’m frivolous, I get on Yoongi’s nerves. If I tone it down, you and Jimin get worried. And Jungkook and Taehyung look like they’re forced to ride along with me because they have no choice. I don’t know how to be the hyung that everyone needs. How much of what I do helps? How much of it is a burden?”In the beat of silence that followed, Hoseok stared at Jin. His eyebrows had knitted into a frown, and the lines that bracketed his lips were stern.“Was it true then? Everything you said about how we make you feel like you should’ve been the one who died? Do you really feel that way?”Jin’s lips curved humourlessly. “Jimin doesn’t leave out any detail, does he?”“Answer me.”Jin didn’t do so immediately. He lifted the guitar off his lap and set it back onto its stand on the floor. His movement was slow, intended to stall time. Perhaps he needed to gather his thoughts. Perhaps he was measuring how much of himself to reveal. Perhaps he wanted Hoseok to give up.But Hoseok waited patiently, his eyes never straying away from Jin.When Jin started to speak, he looked at the wall behind Hoseok instead of at him. “If I’d been the one to die, Namjoon…” he released a long breath, “Namjoon’d know what to do. He was chosen to be the leader not without reason. He’d know the right thing to say. His amazing brain would churn out beautiful phrases that no one’s ever thought of that’d soothe your grief and make it easier for you to move on. All of you deserve someone like him to tide you through this difficult time. Instead you’re stuck with me.”Again, that mirthless laugh.Jin’s words painted for me an alternate universe where our places were switched, the one where my heart still beat while his was reduced to ashes. Jin’d failed to realise one thing: I could offer the members beautiful phrases to help them move on, but they wouldn’t reach back to me. I was good at doling out sagely advice, but woefully horrible at following them myself. If Jin had been the one to die, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I was their leader. I should shield them from everything at all cost. If anything happened to any of them under my leadership, I’d be driven insane.I looked at Jin and felt a pang as I understood him a little more. He wasn’t the leader, but he was the eldest. The responsibility that had saddled my shoulders must burdened his too.Hoseok shook his head. “You’re impossible.”“As Yoongi’d already pointed out.”Hoseok ignored Jin’s self-deprecating comment. “You know, when Jimin first told me what you’d said, I wanted to yank you out of bed and punch a new sense into you.”“Do you still want to?”“A little,” Hoseok answered with a glint of mischief, then promptly sobered up, “But now, more than anything, I want to apologise. Losing Namjoon was painful, and the pain blindsides us to do things that we may not even realise we’re doing. So I’m sorry if we have ever made you feel like you’re not as important as Namjoon.”Surprise crossed Jin’s face. Hoseok brimmed with grave sincerity, and his voice held a note of command that dared Jin to argue otherwise. It reminded me of a long ago interview where I’d been asked who would be BTS’s leader if not me, and I’d pointed to Hoseok without hesitation. This was why.Hoseok inched forward and his knees touched Jin’s. “What happened to Namjoon was unexpected and unfortunate. I’d turn back time and catch him from his fall if I could, but I’d never exchange you for him. None of us would. Whatever the kind of hyung you are, you're the hyung we need.”Jin lowered his chin, his fringe sweeping forward to shadow his face. No words came.“Hyung,” Hoseok placed a hand on Jin’s knee, “we just want you to be okay.”Not good. Not happy. Just okay, because sometimes okay was all you could ever ask for.“Do you sometimes feel exhausted after being all sunshine and smiles in front of the cameras no matter how you feel on the inside?”Jin’s sudden question took Hoseok by surprise. Hoseok nodded uncertainly.“When that happens, don't you need time to recenter yourself?”Hoseok nodded again.Jin flashed a small smile. “That’s what I'm going through now, Hobi, except this time there are no cameras involved. I'm just a little tired. Give me some time to be okay, could you?”Beyond the door, there was the scratch of feet slipping, the subsequent thump of a body against the wooden door, and the same pair of feet scurrying away.Jin tilted his chin at the door, amused. “Go on, don't keep Jimin waiting.”“I told him not to eavesdrop,” Hoseok muttered, murderous intent fleeting across his face. But as he doubled forward to hold Jin’s gaze, his face softened into a mix of understanding and worry.“Hyung,” Hoseok began, returning to the conversation before Jimin’d interrupted, “you can have as long as you need. But know that if you ever find yourself all tangled up in your thoughts and there seems to be no way out, I'm always here for you to talk to.”“Of course.” Jin rolled his shoulders as though shrugging off a great weight of what troubled him. “I didn't know I needed this conversation.”“My pleasure.” Hoseok extended a hand which Jin caught in a brotherly slap. As he rose from the bed, he said, “I'm also getting you kimchi fried rice with a sunny side up. No, don't bother protesting. You're going to eat with us whether you like it or not.”“Since when have you become such a mother hen?”Hoseok flapped his hand flippantly as he padded to the door. “I’ve always had potential. I just prefer to let you do the honour.”At Jin’s chuckle, Hoseok’s hand paused on the door handle. “It’s great to hear you laughing like that again,” said Hoseok earnestly.Jin dipped his chin, his smile deepening, a closer shadow to that of his old self that dazzled.Hoseok pushed down on the handle and the door parted a gap before he halted on the threshold, as though he'd suddenly remembered something. He looked over his shoulder.“Hyung,” Hoseok called again.“You really should go.”Hoseok brandished a finger-heart matched with a high-wattage grin. “Just wanna tell you you’re important and we love you.”The door closed. Outside, hushed voices — no doubt belonging to Hoseok and Jimin, came muffled into Jin’s room. The shoe cupboard at the entryway creaked open, followed by a sharp slap as the soles of flip flops hit the floor, and the thud of wood against wood as someone closed the cupboard.The front door opened and closed. A relative quiet returned to the house.The smile on Jin’s face faded like ashes crumbling into dust. It seemed calculated to the moment he was certain his door wouldn't open again.He slouched back into the couch, dropped his head over the backrest and stared at the ceiling with the same hopeless gaze he had last night.Dread sank through me, plunging like a stone through the depths of the ocean.Despite everything Hoseok’d said, Jin didn't believe a single word of it.:::::::::::Takeout boxes of honey-glazed fried pork, black bean noodles, spicy rice cakes, seaweed rolls and three different kinds of fried rice crammed the surface of the coffee table. Except Yoongi, who seemed hell-bent on excluding himself from the group, the rest of the members sat cross-legged around the table, passing each other plates and cutlery. The scene brought to clarity memories of our debut days, where we lived in tight quarters and our coffee table doubled as the dining table.Hoseok and Jimin took up the task of starting conversations. Taehyung and Jungkook cast discreet glances at Jin in the beginning, but loosened up when Jin listened attentively to Hoseok and Jimin, throwing in a comment or two at the right moment every now and then.Yes, the quarrel with Yoongi affected me. I’m not altogether okay yet, but I will be and I’m getting there, his body language seemed to express. He was neither overly enthusiastic nor unwelcomingly sullen. He was somewhere in the middle, at the sweet spot where the others would worry least and be convinced that he eventually would, indeed, be okay.He was a brilliant actor. How did I ever forget that that he majored in acting? If I hadn’t witnessed how he was like when he thought nobody was watching, I would be fooled, too.Halfway through the meal, Jungkook turned the TV on to a rerun of Harry Potter on cable channel.I startled as Dumbledore pulled a pocket watch out of his robes.Pocket watch.The memory of a pale, genderless face, and of having my mind read, swooshed in like a fist into my guts.
“What can I wish for?”
“Anything you want. Except for coming back to life, of course.”
I didn’t know how I forgot all about it.I looked at Jin and felt a flicker of nervous hope. I didn’t know how to do it correctly, and I didn’t know if it’d work.But with all my might, I made my first wish.
TBC
::::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jin had a baseball cap pulled low over his brows and a mask shielding his face. He walked with his shoulders hunched and head bowed. It might seemed excessive; after all there weren't many people left on the street at this hour, and there were more shadows than street lamps in this part of the neighbourhood. However, if our eagle-eyed fans’d taught us anything, it was better to be safe than sorry.Some distance later, the red tent of a pojangmacha came into sight. The orange light bulbs hanging along its metal scaffold lent an inviting glow to the darker street.The stall was tended by same ahjumma with the same pink gloves hiked up to her elbows. She busied behind the trays, scraping the leftover tteokbokki and rearranging the remaining kimbaps. She looked up briefly when Jin stepped into the tent. If she remembered Jin or recognized him from TV, she didn't show.Jin sat down at one of the tables scattered around the stall and called for a bottle of soju. Being nearly one in the morning, he was the only customer. His order was served quickly, alongside with a small plate of glistening spicy rice cakes.“It's on the house,” the ahjumma said. Her gesture was kind, but she was standoffish and unsmiling in its execution. She reminded me of Yoongi, the same kind of people who refused to be showy with their warmth and affection.Jin popped the bottle open and filled the shot glass to its brim. He lifted the glass to his lips, threw his head back, and emptied the contents down his throat.::::::::::
A party popper exploded and issued a glittery shower of colourful streamers. Jungkook opened his eyes and blew the candle on the cake.
“Happy 16th Birthday, Baby Boy!” Taehyung yelled, throwing the tangled streamers over Jungkook while Jimin jammed a glittery party hat over Jungkook’s head. Jungkook looked embarrassed but pleased.
“What wishes did you make?” Hoseok asked.
“Us to be healthy and together forever!” Jungkook said at the same time Taehyung gasped.
“You're supposed to keep your wishes secret!”
Yoongi thwacked Taehyung’s head. “The birthday boy can do whatever he wants, you little imp.”
Taehyung pouted like a sulking puppy and rubbed the back of his head. However, he brightened instantly when Jimin announced, “Presents!”
Jimin was the first to hand his to Jungkook. The youngest tore into the wrapper with the hunger of a starving wolf. It was a pair of Beats by Dr. Dre.
“This is exactly what I need! Thanks, Jimin H yung!”
Jimin ruffled Jungkook’s hair. “You better use it often. Man,” he rubbed his own chest, “my heart still feels weak at how much it—”
Taehyung shoved Jimin aside, earning an indignant “Hey!” from Jimin.
“This is from me.” Taehyung beamed, presenting his roughly wrapped gift with both hands. It was a fashionable jacket that Jungkook tried on immediately.
They moved down the coffee table. Yoongi gave Jungkook a ukulele while Hoseok gave a necklace with a skull pendant.
Then it was Namjoon’s turn. The maknae looked at Namjoon with round eyes that shimmered with anticipation. Namjoon stiffened a fraction, and he swallowed in shame as he flexed his empty hands.
“Jungkook-ah, I—”
“Here you go,” Jin, who was sitting next to Namjoon , produced a big box from under the table. “This is from both of us.”
Namjoon whipped his head to look at Jin in disbelief. Jin grinned, as if saying, “Don't worry. I've got this.”
As Jungkook opened his present, his eyes widened in incredulity, and his fingers became reverent, as though afraid that one careless move would scratch the item inside.
“Wow,” Jungkook breathed, his touch ghosting the surface of the box. An unassembled Iron Man figurine laid under the transparent film. “Where did you get this? They stopped making it a long time ago.”
Jin winked. “Life is about making the right connections.”
Jungkook hugged the box to his chest. “Thank you so much, Jin Hyung, Rapmon Hyung. I'll value this like I value my life.” he said earnestly.
Namjoon said nothing. Jin clapped a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder. “Anything for our baby.”
Later, when the birthday party ended with the maknae line snoring away on the living room’s floor and Yoongi and Hoseok curled up on their beds, Jin and Namjoon headed out.
At the pojangmacha, Jin downed a glass of soju and slammed the empty glass onto the table, exhaling in satisfaction. “Nothing beats soju after a long day of schedules. Penny for your thoughts?” Jin added when Namjoon turned his own glass of ginger ale (he was still underage) in his hands without taking a sip.
Namjoon sighed. “Hyung, I can’t believe myself. How could I have forgotten Jungkook’s birthday?”
“Technically speaking, Jungkook doesn’t know that. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be mad at you. We know how much work Bang PD is loading on you.”
“But he would've been disappointed.” Namjoon took a sip of his drink, then asked, “How did you know I’d forget?”
Jin shrugged. “I didn’t. I only suspected. You confirmed it today.”
“Honestly I felt like the worst person on earth just now. You got to start reminding me of birthdays.”
“Sure, my pleasure.” Jin rapped his knuckles on space in front of Namjoon. “Your birthday’s next.”
An easy laugh tumbled out of Namjoon. “Thanks for the reminder. What would I do without you?”
“Don’t thank me yet. You still have to pay me half of Jungkook’s present. Who knew that a stupid little limited edition toy could cost so much?”
::::::::::I sat across from Jin, hoping that even though he couldn’t see me, he could at least feel me.We’d chanced upon this stall when we were roaming the vicinity of our old dorm one night. We were still trainees back then, our hearts full of anxiety and uncertainty. Would we get to debut? Would people like us even if we do? Our minds chased tails looking for answers as we walked side by side, letting our legs decide which turns to take, which roads to follow. We must have walked for a long time, for our stomachs rumbled when we smelled the aroma of fishcake skewers steeped in broth. We exchanged a glance, raised our eyebrows conspiratorially, and promptly ducked into the pojangmacha, where we proceeded to stuff ourselves so full that breathing became a challenge afterwards.We became frequent patrons, even after we debuted and moved out of our old dorms. Only Jin and I ever came here. It wasn’t that we kept our visits a secret, but the rest of the members’d never expressed any interest in coming along. Gradually, this unassuming pojangmacha, with its bright red tent and rocky tables and stools, became a place where Jin and I came not only to fill our stomachs, but also to pour our woes.Most of the time I was the one doing the groaning and complaining. Here, I shed my leader skin. Here, we switched roles. Here, Jin guided me.This food stall had seen me at my most vulnerable, just like it was now witnessing Jin’s.But I’d also always left this place healed, with the renewed faith that I could press on.I hoped that it could do the same for him.::::::::::
The bitter winter wind jabbed at their faces as Jin and Namjoon stepped through the hospital’s sliding doors. As they walked to the taxi stand, Jin made a quick phone call to appease the rest of the members worriedly waiting back at the dorm.
The gash on Taehyung’s forehead had been stitched and bandaged, but the boy was still running a fever and was ordered by the doctor to stay overnight in the hospital. After Taehyung’d settled down with the hospital blanket securely tucked under his chin, their manager hyung urged Jin and Namjoon to go back. It’d only stir unnecessary speculation if three members from the same boy group were concurrently sighted at the hospital.
The ride back was quiet save for the deejay’s voice crackling from the radio. Namjoon had an elbow propped against the window, his chin resting on his palm. He stared out of the glass with troubled eyes, the streetlights beyond orchestrating a shadow show across his face.
The taxi stopped at a roadside.
“We’re here,” Jin announced.
Namjoon snapped out of his thoughts. He looked around. “What do you mean? We’re not home.”
Jin pulled out his wallet and handed a couple of bills to the driver. “I need a drink after the scare tonight. Humor me, will you?”
Jin got out of the car, leaving no room for protests. Namjoon trailed mutely behind Jin as they turned into the familiar alley. The pojangmacha loomed like a lighthouse ahead.
Being winter, plastic sheets were unrolled from roof to ground as a shield against the freezing weather. They ducked into the warm cocoon of the tent and took the table in the corner, away from a group of men in various states of stupor. Jin ordered two bottles of soju.
“I was just thinking…” Namjoon began as he filled his own glass. “Maybe we should make our bathroom anti-slip and cover all the sharp corners so that this doesn't happen again. And we need to install handles too.”
“Why don't we childproof the entire house while we’re at it?” Jin suggested, bringing his glass to his lips for a sip. “Because sometimes that's what having Taehyung in the house feels like—living with a child.”
Namjoon frowned. “I'm being serious.”
Jin set the glass back on the table and sighed, dropping his joking manner. “I don’t mean to trivialize your concerns, but I have a slight idea about how you're currently feeling. Why don't you tell me more?”
“I…” Namjoon’s chest swelled with held breath and hesitation before he let them go. “I just don't want to feel that useless again.”
A few hours ago, a loud crash had Namjoon running to the bathroom to find Taehyung moaning deliriously on floor. Namjoon knew that Taehyung was running a high fever, but he wasn’t prepared for the bright-red blood pouring down half of Taehyung’s face. He simply froze at the door. Jungkook skidded to a halt next to Namjoon seconds later, and he was the one who screamed for Jin. Unlike Namjoon, Jin collected himself quickly. He pushed past Namjoon and Jungkook, knelt down next to Taehyung and pressed a towel on the wound, all the while making cooing noises to comfort the younger boy. Namjoon jumped out of his shock only after Jin raised his voice and ordered Namjoon to call the ambulance. As he held the phone to his ear, his hands shook badly.
Even now, the tremors in his fingers were not altogether gone.
Jin tilted his head to one side, thinking. For a moment, the snap of plastic sheeting as the wind whipped at the tent replaced the conversation between them.
“Everyone reacts differently to the sight of blood,” Jin said finally.
Namjoon shook his head. “I've never been afraid of blood, so I don’t understand why my mind just turned blank when I saw Taehyung with all the blood on his face.”
“Taehyung’s important to you.”
“As he is to you, but you were steady when he needed someone to be steady the most. Whereas I…” Namjoon trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm supposed to be the leader, you know?”
“And you know that you’re the best leader in this industry, right?”
Namjoon snorted humourlessly. “Which leader behave like deers caught in headlights while his group mate bleeds in front of him?”
“Hang on right there.” Jin straightened, planting a hand on his hip . “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. You are a leader, not a superhero, so stop seeing yourself as one. You have many talents, but first-aid isn’t one of them. What worth would the rest of us have if you’re good at everything? Leave something for me to do, all right?”The words coaxed a small smile out of Namjoon. “ Still, I think I should go for first-aid training.”
“You can, but I’ll have you know that it’s going to take a lot to dethrone me as Bangtan’s resident first-aider.”
::::::::::Jin swiped at his eyes with discreet fingers, but not before light from the bare bulbs winked off the tears that’d escaped his eyes. He drew in a deep breath and blew out his cheeks, recomposing himself enough to pour himself another drink.His forced calm cracked the next moment. A sob choked out of him. His hand trembled and alcohol sloshed over the lip of his glass.One after another the tears came, with such ferocity that rendered any attempts to wipe them useless. He curled into himself, his head lowered and his shoulders shaking. The tears trailed along his jaw and dripped off his chin. His lips were tightly pursed, but the quiet of the night amplified his muffled sobs.The ahjumma continued about her business without so much a glance at Jin. Maybe she was too absorbed in her tasks to hear Jin crying. Maybe customers sobbing their hearts out after a glass or two weren’t that rare a sight.Later, when she turned away a man seeking supper, I understood that she was giving Jin the privacy he needed.::::::::::
The Bangtan boys sat around the conference table, silent and solemn. The fluorescent lights overhead highlighted the fatigue that lined their faces. At the head of the table was Bang PD. They kept their eyes down as Bang PD spoke.
“How long do you think is the life span of an idol group? You’re possibly at your peak now, but you won’t stay there forever. We get it, all of you are exhausted, and all of you want to move on to bigger things for yourself. It’s natural to feel that way, but you need to keep your fans entertained. They could proclaim their eternal support for you, but we know that fans are fickle, easily distracted. New groups will emerge and catch their eyes when your absence grows. They’ll join another fandom. Are you really ready to risk that now?”
Nobody replied. He gave the silence a few more seconds, then turned his chair with a little squeak toward Namjoon.
“Namjoon, what do you think?”
The tension in the room was palpable. All eyes latched upon Namjoon, all expectant even though their owners expected different things. Namjoon had his lips pressed against his interlocked fingers, so no one caught the sigh that had rose from his chest. His eyes, troubled but still rational, trailed over his members. One member after another, he held their gazes for a pause. At last, Namjoon unwound his fingers, leaned back into his chair, and looked at Bang PD.
“We’ll continue with the show,” Namjoon said with a heavy finality.
Yoongi flattened his lips. Taehyung made a small noise of disbelief. Jimin lowered his head, his baseball cap shadowing his face. Jin, Hoseok and Jungkook were neutral. Bang PD, however, was pleased.
“A sound decision, as I’m sure you’ll agree with me, if not now then later.” Bang PD rose from his chair. “We’ll have a one-month break before the filming for next season starts. Use this time to recenter yourself.”
The members stayed behind after Bang PD left. Once again, Namjoon had the rest’s attention as they waited for an explanation.
“I just didn’t think it’s time for us to move on from the show yet. It still has so much potential, so much of ourselves that we haven’t shown. Yes, we’re tired. Our recent schedules are demanding a lot from us. But that’s exactly why I don’t think we are in the best condition to make any decision to end the show. We’ll regret it in the future if we do.”
Not all looked convinced. Namjoon pressed on.
“We have one month to think about this in earnest. If we still feel that we want nothing more to do with Run!BTS during this time, we’ll negotiate with Bang PD again. How about that?”
“Sounds good to me,” Hoseok said. The rest nodded.
The rest except for Yoongi.
Later, as the members filed out of the room, Namjoon stopped him.
“Suga H yung—“
“Not now, Namjoon. I can’t see how we can talk without it becoming a fight, because I’m still trying to figure out if you’re BTS’s leader or Bighit’s puppet.”
Yoongi shoved his chair beneath the table and stormed out. Behind Namjoon, Jin caught Yoongi’s every word.
That night, Jin and Namjoon went to the same pojangmacha, sat at the same table, ordered the same brand of soju. Namjoon filled the shot glass, emptied it down his throat, filled it again, emptied it again. Fourth glass in, words unspooled.
“Do they think I like being the leader? Do they think I like being stretched both ways? Even an elastic band snaps and I’m only human.”
“I’m not trying to defend Yoongi, but you know for a fact that stress and exhaustion make him a difficult person to be around,” said Jin. “Give him a couple of days. He’ll come around.”
Namjoon tipped his glass and spun it along the rim of its base. “If you were the leader, would you have agreed with Bang PD?”
“No,” Jin answered without hesitation.
“Why not?” Namjoon’s voice was a weak croak of despair.
“Because we have too much on our plate. I want us to rest more. It pains me to see how tired all of us are.”
A corner of Namjoon’s lips curled in self-mockery. “Bangtan might be better off with you as the leader. You’re the oldest after all. The sensible and compassionate one. Is it too late for a change?”
Jin ignored Namjoon’s question. Instead he asked, “Why did you agree with continuing the show when you know the members won’t be happy?”
“I thought we could power through like we always did,” Namjoon murmured, his gaze lost in the thin layer of alcohol at the bottom of his glass. “Being tired has never stopped us from giving our all or wanting to do more. To be more.”
“Exactly. Do you see it now?”
“See what?”
“Honestly Namjoon, sometimes you don’t do your IQ justice.” Jin folded his arms and propped his elbows on the table, leaning forward and forcing Namjoon to meet his eyes. “Do you now see why Bang PD never considered me to lead Bangtan?”
“Erh… Because you joined later?”
“We definitely need to revise your official IQ,” Jin muttered. “Try again.”
“Because you’re not interested in the production side of our music?”
“Better, but that’s not it. Do I really need to spell it out for you?”
Namjoon nodded. Jin gathered a deep breath, and as he exhaled, it was as if he was trying not to let exasperation get better of him.
“Imagine me as the leader, a leader who caves in and begs the company for holidays when I see my members tired three days in a row. A leader like me will request we do more projects that we like so that we are happy. Acting, composing, making our own videos… Sounds good, doesn’t it? But is that really ideal? Is that how a leader should be? I don’t think so.”
Jin paused for a breath, then continued.
“Truly good leaders acknowledge that their members are tired, but at the same time recognise that they have it in them to stretch and go a little further. Out of all of us you know best that being an idol isn’t about comfort or having enough sleep, and definitely not just about making the music we like and doing the things we want. You push us, force us out of comfort zone so that it expands a little further each time. We got where we are today precisely because you knew when to push.”
Jin took a sip of soju. He shuddered, as though struck by a scary thought.
“If I were the leader, Bangtan’d be a bunch of spoilt babies. Man, I don’t even think we’d be around anymore.”
::::::::::Jin rubbed a hand down his face and sat up straight. The tears had more or less ceased, though they left his nose and the skin around his eyes red and blotchy. He picked up the bottle and, skipping the glass, dispensed the last inch of soju down his throat. In a few bites, he finished the rice cakes and rose, the metal legs of the stool grating harshly against the gravel.At the counter, the ahjumma was winding up for the night. Jin pulled out a bill from his wallet and put it in the bucket, her preferred way of collecting money.“Jal meogeosseupnida.” He half-bowed to her and turned to leave. He’d taken only a step when she stopped him.“The boy you used to come with…”I was confused at first. Did Jin come with someone else? Then I remembered I was dead and invisible, and I realised I was the one she was asking about. Until recently I never knew that being dead was something that needed getting used to.Jin forced a smile. “He’s not around anymore.”“I know. I watched the news.” With the food trays removed and steam rising from the hot water bath beneath, her austere face seemed softer. “You boys were everywhere on TV even before that. He was the leader, wasn’t he?”He nodded. “The best.”“But only because he had a hyung who took care of everything else so he could strain for the stars,” she said, looking meaningfully at Jin.His eyes widened a fraction, but the surprise was short-lived as he smiled sadly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to make me feel better.”“I don’t have to,” she agreed. “Except those were his words.”::::::::::Jin was back in the kitchen. He pulled out a metal bowl from the cabinet, sifted flour, cracked eggs, added water, and whisked all the ingredients together. I felt settled as I watched him moved through the motions calmly, without the frenzied energy of many mornings ago.He scooped a dollop of the batter onto a heated frypan just as Jimin appeared at the threshold of the kitchen.“What do you say to pancakes for breakfast today?” Jin asked after briefly glancing up.Jimin’s eyes darted between Jin, the metal bowl, and the batter sizzling in the pan. I could see what he was thinking: Pancakes were basic fare, nothing close to the extravagant feasts Jin was prone to making when he was stressed or trying to run away from something.“Sounds perfect.” Though Jimin’d relaxed, the frown on his face was not quite gone.“Something the matter?”“Hyung, where were you last night? I was so worried when you didn't pick up my calls.”Jin flashed Jimin a smile. “It's nice to know that I’ll always have sweet Jimin to worry over me.” He worked his spatula around the edges of the pancake and flipped it. “Remember the pojangmacha Namjoon and I used to frequent? I went there last night. I didn’t bring my phone with me.”Jimin looked like he hadn’t expected Jin’s candidness. “Why did you go there?”“I don’t know. I just felt like I had to. I’m glad that I did. Pass me a plate, would you?” Jimin did as he was told. Jin slid the finished pancake onto the waiting dish and ladled more batter into the pan. As he waited for bubbles to rise and pop, he continued. “I was a mess the past few days, both here and here,” he pointed to his head and heart, “but I feel more…sorted now, like I can start believing again.”“In what?”“Do you really have to ask?”Jimin nodded seriously. “Need to make sure you’re not believing the wrong things.”“C’mon, Jiminnie…” Jin trailed off when he saw exactly what I did — Jimin’s determined face. Jimin neither budged nor compromised when he was in this mode. I quietly applauded him.Jin’s famed shoulders sagged. “OK, OK. But promise you won’t cringe?”“I promise you won’t notice even if I do.”Jin shifted his feet awkwardly. He kept his eyes on the pan. As he spoke, his face grew serious. “Namjoon and I, we talked a lot over drinks. Yesterday at the pojangmacha, many of our conversations came back to me, and they made me realise that perhaps, I'm not as dispensable as I thought I was. That, perhaps, I deserve a place in this group after all. If I could be a pillar of support for Namjoon during his lows, then maybe the same old me could be the hyung that all of you need right now, without all the frills or the need to overcompensate just because I’m still alive. So there you go, that's what I can start believing in, that being myself is enough for all of us.”I'd never heard more pleasant words than those just spoken.“What’s with that face?” Jin accused, pointing his spatula at Jimin like he was in a sword duel. “You said you won't cringe.”“I said I won't show even if I do,” Jimin corrected, then broke into a wide grin. “Besides I'm not cringing. I'm just amused and a little annoyed because, Hyung, everything you just said is what we've been trying to convince you all these while.”
End of Jin's Chapters
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimin retreated from Yoongi’s room, the soft click as the door closed masking his sigh. He went back in the dining room, where the rest of the members raised their heads to look at him.Jimin shook his head. The hopeful faces fell.Hoseok recovered the quickest. He picked up his chopsticks and sat up. “We should start eating before the food gets any colder.” He began to pile food onto the members’ plates. A meat roll for Jungkook, some vegetable stir-fry for Taehyung.In our previous dorm, our dining table wasn't small for, say, a family of five. But when the family was made up of seven boys trapped in men’s bodies, meals at a normal-sized table was a chaotic show of elbows jabbing into one another, feet jamming unapologetically into shins, and voices demanding someone to stop squirming or else. There was never enough space to hold all of us or our food. Our excitement was thus understandable the day we moved here and saw a dining table meant for ten. I remembered looking at my reflection in its dark, gleaming surface and wondering what material it was made of. I still hadn't found out.Frankly, even when I'd been alive, it wasn’t every day that all seven of us gathered at this table and ate together. We went to the company at different times and we slept at different times. One member’s breakfast could be another’s lunch. Still, we ate together often enough to make good use of it.The table seemed like a bad idea now. Without Yoongi and me, it was mocking in its size, the gaps between members too large to be filled no matter how much they tried to spread themselves out. Had Yoongi decided to accepted Jimin’s invitation, his presence would have been mitigating, but he’d stopped joining the others for meals, dourly ignoring whoever were sent to ask.“Taehyungie?” Jimin’s concerned voice rose above the clinks and scrapes of cutlery.Taehyung had not touched his chopsticks. His arms hung limply by his sides, his eyes staring at a spot under the table.“When will Suga Hyung be okay?” He asked, his voice cracking at the mention of Yoongi’s stage name.Arms froze and shoulders stiffened. Hoseok and Jin exchanged a glance. Jungkook looked automatically at the two oldest, seeking an assurance from them that would lessen the same worry he had.Hoseok put down the slice of pancake that was halfway to his mouth. “The one thing I know about grief is: it isn’t the same for everyone. Different people have different ways of dealing with it.” His eyes were on Taehyung, but his words were meant for everyone.Jin nodded. “Some people find closure by talking to people, some figure it out on their own. As for Yoongi… he probably needs more time. A lot more.”“But Hyung,” Taehyung looked up, “when was the last time you talked to him? I mean properly talk, not the quarrel both of you had.” Jin flinched, but Taehyung didn’t notice. “Yesterday I asked him how he was doing and he, h-he,” he bit his trembling lip, “he didn’t even seem to have heard me. You say that he needs more time. But what if he needs forever to be fine? What if he will never be?”The atmosphere had not been cheery to begin with, but it took a gloomier turn. Taehyung’s words had given shape to their worst fear. Taehyung looked desperately around the table, searching the members’ faces. When it became clear that no one could give him the answer he wanted without dressing it as a lie, he shook his head defeatedly.“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye. “I shouldn’t be spoiling our appetite. It’s… It’s just that Suga Hyung has become so different. It’s almost like he hates all of us now.”“Oh, Taehyung, you know that’s not true,” said Hoseok. With all his attention on Taehyung, Hoseok didn’t notice how Jin had chosen that moment to lower his head, hiding the uncertainty that had flickered across his face.“I miss Yoongi Hyung,” Jungkook murmured. His words came as an alarm. Our maknae had always been prone to keeping his true feelings to himself, clutching them tight in his chest until he couldn't anymore. For that pain to slip out as it did, he must have been hoarding so much more.Hoseok placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “We all do.”“I think we're not giving Yoongi Hyung enough credit,” Jimin said loudly. He didn't looked too happy. “Yoongi Hyung lived with Namjoon Hyung the longest, of course he'd be taking it the hardest. We can’t compare ourselves to their bond, and we shouldn’t. But does that mean Yoongi Hyung doesn’t care about us?” He paused deliberately. “I don’t think so. Hasn’t he shown us that we are important to him in his own ways? And because we are important to him, I know for certain that he’ll go back to normal for our sake. True, maybe he’ll take some time, but I’ll be ready to welcome him back when he finally comes to terms. I don’t know about all of you, but I won’t stop believing in him.”The rest blinked at Jimin’s words, stunned. Jimin tilted his chin defiantly, as though challenging them to disagree.“You know,” Hoseok began wistfully, moving his eyes along the maknae line, “one time when he was drunk, he confessed to me that the three of you are his cute little troublemakers that he somehow can’t live without.”Jungkook’s lips twitched with a smile. Taehyung’s nose crinkled almost abashedly. Jimin relaxed, looking relieved.“A drunk Yoongi hyung is always full of gold,” said Jungkook. “Do you know he once wrote a drunken poem about how Hobi Hyung to him was like creamer to coffee, lightening the darkness of his soul?”Hoseok laughed but Jin recoiled, “No way, that’s too cringeworthy to be coming from him!”“We’ll need to get him drunk the next chance we have.” Jimin grinned. “And Jin Hyung, he told me that he could focus on making music because you keep the two children entertained.” He moved his finger quickly between Taehyung and Jungkook.“What am I? The nanny?” Jin said the same time Taehyung exclaimed, “You’re one of us too!”The table broke into laughter. Jimin laughed so hard that he doubled over, nearly knocking over his coffee had Hoseok’s reflexes not been quick enough to right his mug.It had been such a long time since they’d laughed like that. Their individual laughters — Jungkook’s hacking cackle, Taehyung’s deeper rumble, Hoseok’s unrestrained guffaw, Jin’s and Jimin’s metronomic ones — mingled to produce a sound that’d probably have others sticking their fingers into their ears. To me, it was music. If only Yoongi was here.I thought about Jimin’s words again, turning them over like a smooth pebble.Did I believe that Yoongi would heal as Jimin believed?I did.I truly did.:::::::::: Our company kept good on their word, giving the members as much time as they needed. Without any schedules, they devoted the free time to what they hadn’t had much time for when they were whisked from concerts to award shows, from practice rooms to recording studios. For Taehyung, the free time meant long hours locked in his art room with his chests of paints and pastels as he transformed canvas after canvas. Jungkook worked out even more these days, making frequent visits to the boxing gym. His collection of dumbbells, resistance bands and boxing gloves was rapidly expanding. Jin tested out new recipes, tinkered with his guitar and, when he needed a change in pace, followed Jungkook to his workout.As for Hoseok, he’d started going back to the company out of his own volition. I wasn’t surprised. Hoseok was always on the go, the idea of taking a break foreign to him. Our next album, many of the songs which I was to be the producer for, had been scheduled for instrumental recording once our world tour ended. I’d planned to fully focus on that once our schedule let up. Alas, my clumsy self had to tumble off the stage and land headfirst on our second last stop. Hoseok was picking up from where I’d left off. In addition to being a workaholic, he was an organiser, meticulous to the last detail. It was in his personality to have the songs ready for the members to record once they felt up for it.Jimin tagged along with Hoseok, no doubt wanting to learn and help out with the production side of our music. When I’d been alive, Jimin’d occasionally badgered me to impart him my knowledge on composing, lyric writing and production. Amidst our jam-packed schedules, I’d never got around to truly do that. Someday, Jimin, someday, I’d always said, and Jimin let it slide with no more than a childish pout when he saw how I fought to keep my eyes open after a succession of schedules. If I had known that my life would be as short as it was, would I have held Jimin to lesser priority than sleep? I wouldn’t. But that was the thing about time: You don’t know how precious it is until someone put a limit on it.One night, Hoseok and Jimin returned to the apartment past midnight. When the front door open, the spotlight in the entryway sensed motion and flickered to life.“Supper, Hyung?” Jimin asked as he slipped out of his shoes.Hoseok yawned and shook his head. “Too tired. I'll just have a shower and go to sleep.” He opened the shoe cabinet and stashed his sneakers inside. “Hyung will see you tomorrow.”As Hoseok padded off, Jimin put his own shoes away. With a sigh of exasperation, he bent down again to pick up the slippers carelessly tossed to one corner, a pair that I recognised as Taehyung’s. He jammed the slippers into the cabinet and close its doors, muttering under his breath, “What is so difficult about putting your own damn shoes away?”The living room that welcomed Jimin was dark and quiet. All the members had retired for the night. On his way to the kitchen, Jimin stopped in his steps and stared at the fuzzy line of light that seeping out from the base of Yoongi’s door. He was still for the length of a few heartbeats before he eventually headed into the kitchen.Jimin reheated the leftovers in the refrigerator, made ramen and heaped kimchi and pickled radish onto saucers. When he was done, he looked at the spread of plates on the dining table. It was a lot for one person. I had an idea what Jimin had in mind when his eyes, filled with uncertainty and a dash of apprehension, flicked to Yoongi’s door.He proved my guess correct when he approached Yoongi’s room. Drawing in a breath, he knocked on the door, two timid thuds against the lacquered wood.“Hyung, are you asleep?” Jimin kept his voice low, but it echoed in the wide living room, amplified by the quiet of the night. When there was no reply from the other side, he added carefully, “I’m coming in.”He waited all of three seconds. When neither permission nor rejection came, he twisted the knob and pushed the door inward. Light fanned out across his feet.Yoongi was on the bed, curled under the covers, his back turned away from the door. In his hand was an open book. Among our members, Yoongi was the slightest and palest, a fact that bothered him more than he let on. But in the days since my death, he’d grown even thinner and paler. His cheekbones protruded while his eyes had sunken in, soulless even as they moved across the words on the page. I didn’t know if he was unaware of Jimin’s presence, or he had simply chosen to ignore it.Jimin stood by the door, not taking a further step in. The room was a sharp contrast of mess and tidiness. On one side, the bedcovers were running free from the corners and books had built into stacks at the foot of his bed. The other side, where his desk and musical instruments were, was tidy and untouched. I riffled through my memory for the last time I saw Yoongi on the electric keyboard. I came up blank.“Hyung, I made supper. Eat with me?” The hopeful note in Jimin’s voice was hard to listen to.Yoongi turned a page, replying Jimin with the rustle of paper sliding against paper.Jimin tried again. “I heated up your favourite potato pancake. The edges are still crispy, though they won’t be for long if they cool down some more.”Yoongi said nothing.“Hyung,” Jimin called pitifully, “even though you’re not talking to us, I know you’re listening.” Jimin’s grip on the door knob tightened. “There are so many things I want to tell you. Hobi Hyung is working on the songs for the next album and — you’re not allowed to laugh — I’m helping too. We are working so hard, but we can’t seem to capture the spirit of Bangtan the way Namjoon Hyung could.”Yoongi flipped another page.“Hobi Hyung and I…we can’t do this alone.” Jimin bit his lip as if to hold back a sob, then continued, “Could you come back and help us? We need you now more than ever.”There was no reply.“Please?” Jimin whispered brokenly.The silence stretched.People might believe otherwise, but Yoongi doted on the maknae line. A lot. He didn’t always respond to their requests or demands with a direct yes, but it was a yes nonetheless. When Jungkook suggested going to the lamb skewers restaurant after 48 hours of non-stop MV filming, Yoongi’d grumble like a grandpa but he’d never say no. When Taehyung bought him matching bracelets to commemorate the first-year anniversary of their Hawaii friendship trip, Yoongi’d cringed like it was a bad idea, but he continued wearing it even after Taehyung’d jumped onto the next accessory trend.For Yoongi to ignore Jimin so completely, how tightly had he cloistered himself in his grief? How much distance had he put between himself and the others?I could see that the crushing silence was suffocating Jimin. He rearranged his face, forcing a bright smile where it didn’t belong, even though he knew well enough that Yoongi wouldn’t bother to look at it.“It’s okay, Hyung!” He said in false cheeriness. “I know you’re tired. I won’t disturb you then. Good night!”In the dining room, Jimin collected all plates and threw the food away.::::::::::When seven grown-up men lived together, it was easy for the space they share to resemble a pig sty. Twice every week, a part-time housekeeper visited our apartment. I had seen her a number of times. She was a mild-mannered, rotund woman in her fifties who kept a respectful distance. When we were away on long overseas trips, she came more frequently to feed Jin’s sugar gliders. She kept surfaces gleaming, tossed out food that had gone past their expiry dates, and restocked those that were running out, having been with us long enough to have a general idea of our likes and dislikes.When it came to our individual rooms, her chores differed according to our wishes. Some members allowed her to freely enter their rooms to organise their mess and put items where she deemed fit. I wasn’t one of them. I tacked on the fridge a note for her whenever the powdery dust and sandiness on my bedroom floor started to get to me, requesting her to clean the floor but leave the rest of my room alone.This habit of mine left my members perplexed. I wasn’t the best at keeping my living space clean. Some members would even go step further to confirm that I was the messiest of the lot. Often, I defended myself, stating that even though I wasn’t the most organised, I knew where my things were (“Yeah, right,” someone’d always quip). The thing was, I didn’t like the idea of someone being in my room in my absence, a peeve of mine that Taehyung and Jimin frequently triggered after the many times I caught them rolling about in my room without my permission. I’d never got truly angry with them. They were Jimin and Taehyung after all, and my group members had been many of my exceptions.After my death, the housekeeper still came around according to the same schedule, busying in the background as always. One day, she approached Jin in the kitchen, wringing her hands uncertainly until Jin gave her a reassuring smile. She broached the topic of my room, informing Jin that she hadn’t taken a step inside since my passing, and admitting that it’d feel odd and intrusive to do so without my permission.“It’d be good if someone could clean his room,” she said. “In the village I came from, we believe that the deceased come back for a visit every now and then. A clean room would make him welcome.”Jin expressed neither belief nor disbelief at her words, but he thanked her for bringing it up.The next day at breakfast, Jin suggested cleaning my room to the rest of the members.“We’re going to clean out Namjoon Hyung’s room?” Taehyung said incredulously, his jaw hanging wide open.“No, not clean out,” Jin appeased, “just cleaning. His stuff stays in his room. We’re just going to tidy it. You know, return the things where where we think they belong.”The agitation that had wound Taehyung tight as a spring vanished, and his shoulders slouched in apparent relief. However, like Jimin and Jungkook, he said nothing else, only turned to join their gazes on Hoseok, waiting for the older to say something. “Sounds like a good idea,” said Hoseok. “Who better to do it than us? I don’t think I trust anyone else with this.”The maknae line nodded.And so this was how, on a Friday after about a month into my death, five members of Bangtan stood in front of my room, holding rags and a bucket half-filled with soapy water. There was an odd air of tension and formality as Jin laid his hand on the knob. After all, no one had found it in themselves to step foot into my room after my death.As much as I knew they had prepared themselves mentally, they stilled and became silent when the door opened.My bed was still unmade from long ago, with creased covers and a pillow balancing precariously over the edge. A mug containing a teabag sat on the bedside table. Layers of clothes draped over an arm of the room’s only couch. Goodness, had I really been this messy?The members seemed to buckle under the weight of seeing the physical traces I’d left behind. Hoseok inhaled sharply; Jimin’s eyes fell to his feet; Jungkook looked away; Taehyung’s hands tightened.Jin looked over his shoulder at them. “You don’t have to force yourself to do this.”“I want to.” Hoseok’s lips was a firm line of determination.Jimin lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “We’re doing this too,” he said, speaking on behalf of the maknae line.They filed into my room, filling the space instantly. Their eyes wandered across the laptop on my desk, the cork board pinned with the scribbles of my musings, the figurines, books, and art that lined the shelves along one wall. No one spoke. I wondered what was going through their minds. Perhaps they were mourning me, not as the perfect leader that our company painted and our fans believed I was, but as a flawed human who was messy, worldly and prone to fits of frustration when inspiration didn’t flow. Perhaps they were remembering the version of me that was known only to them.Jin was the one who broke the silence. “Shall we start?” His bright voice scattered the heaviness that thickened the air and snapped the others out of their reverie.Taehyung smiled bravely, “I’m ready.”They shoved their emotions aside and got into action. They worked in good cheer, with a determination not to succumb to sadness or tears.My room wasn’t a big one, though I’d admit that I had a number of things. With all the hands available, I’d assumed cleaning my room would be a swift task for the five of them, but I had completely underestimated their curiosity.Someone had uncovered the Moleskine journal that had wedged itself between the headboard of my bed and the mattress. The others dropped what they had barely started and gathered around the notebook, debating if they should read it. I’d known them long enough to know that their hesitation wasn't genuine. They reminded me of children pretending to be in a dilemma over the last cookie when in fact, their hands were already ready to reach into the jar.They took turns to read the journal — much to my dismay — aloud. The entries weren’t too private, consisting mostly of hasty scribbles and crossed out writings as I tried to perfect my lyrics. Some of the particularly cringeworthy ones tickled the members. I was glad that my body had been cremated because if it hadn’t been, it’d be shrivelling in embarrassment now.With their curiosity satiated, the members scattered and returned to the main task at hand. Barely five minutes later, another debate started, this time between Jin and Taehyung.“Taehyung, just empty the wastepaper basket. There are used tissues in them,” said Jin from the desk where he was clearing the surface for a wipe down.Taehyung sat cross-legged on the floor, rummaging through the wastepaper basket that sat in the cradle of his legs. “But, Hyung, Namjoon Hyung’s writings are on some of these paper.” Taehyung pulled out a crumpled ball of paper and smoothed it out against his thigh. “If my life were a song, would I be the lyrics or the melody?” He read aloud.Taehyung, I wanted to tell him, there’s a reason why those papers are in the wastepaper basket.In the end, Jin and Taehyung reached a compromise. Only those pieces with legible handwriting could be kept. The rest would have to go. Taehyung curated the papers, and with great care, smoothed them out and slotted them into a plastic folder for safekeeping.On the other side of the room, Hoseok was on his fours, cleaning out under the bed with a broom. Something clattered out.“What’s this?” He held up what looked like two pieces of blue plastic rod connected by a mobility joint.“I think it belongs to him.” Jungkook winced, showing Hoseok a palm-sized Captain American missing an arm.“Tell me why I’m not surprised.” Hoseok laughed, which made Jungkook laugh too. Their laughter infected nearby Jimin who, like Jungkook, had been wiping the array of figurines that occupied the shelves nearest to the door.“He had to live up to his title as the God of Destruction after all,” said Jimin. As he turned back to his task, something at the door caught his eyes. He startled, a gasp hitching in his chest.Standing there, framed by the doorway, was Yoongi.“Yoongi Hyung…”The effect was immediate. The rest stopped what they were doing, their heads snapping up. Any conversation came to an abrupt halt, and the silence that ensued was sharp and uncomfortable. The atmosphere in the room had transformed, the playfulness reconfiguring itself into uncertainty.That day, after the members had decided on a time to clean my room, Hoseok’d passed the message along to Yoongi. Like how he’d ignored the many messages and invitations that came before,Yoongi gave no indication that he’d heard Hoseok.Hope, fear, and wariness warred on the members’ faces. But one look at Yoongi, I had the sinking feeling that any hope would be answered by disappointment.Yoongi took a step in. Without acknowledging the rest of the members, Yoongi looked around the room. His face was impassive, and his gaze was hard, holding none of the nostalgia that had softened the other members’ eyes when they saw my room. Then, with a cold slant of the lips, he chuckled, a derisive sound that chilled. The members stiffened.Hoseok rose from the floor, composed when the rest of the members weren’t. “Would you like to join us, Hyung? We could use another pair of hands.” His voice was welcoming, but warning was plain on his face.Yoongi shook his head, clicking his tongue. “How pathetic.” His voice was scratchy. It occurred to me that those were the first words I’d heard from him in days.“Hyung,” any niceness on Hoseok’s end was gone, “we’d be happy to if you’re here to help, but if you’re here just to antagonise us, please leave.”Yoongi smiled. “Am I wrong?” He stepped toward a shelf and dragged a finger across the surface, clearing a dark path in the dust. “Are all of you not pathetic cleaning the room of someone who’d abandoned us so completely?” His mocking gaze travelled over the members before landing on the charcoal portrait of me drawn by a fan. His eyes turned cold. “If it were up to me, I’d have burned this room down.”It was then that I understood. Yoongi’s anger had changed in nature, no longer directed at the whimsies of fate. It was me that he hated now.“Namjoon Hyung didn’t abandon us,” said Jimin, a note in his voice begging Yoongi to understand. “He didn’t have a choice.”“That’s where you got it wrong,” Yoongi hissed, his anger lashing out as suddenly as a snake that had long poised to attack. “If he was a decent enough person, if he truly cared about the group, he’d have hung on. He’d have risen above the pain and make his way back to us even if it meant crawling. He did none of those things.”But I tried.The memory of the pain I’d experienced at the hospital came back to me with the force of a vengeful wave. The pain had been unrelenting, building up in my head and spilling over to the rest of my body when it mounted some more. It was like being trapped in a vortex. What chance did I have of clawing out when the pain had reduced me to a rag doll with limbs that didn’t obey?“You know better than anyone that Namjoon fought as hard as he could,” said Jin sadly.“Not hard enough.”Taehyung burst into tears. He moved forward, edging past Jin. His outstretched hands found Yoongi’s arm, and they clung on desperately. “Stop saying things like these, Hyung, please. You don’t mean it.”Yoongi was unmoved.Jungkook had backed away unknowingly from Yoongi. He stood as close to the wall as he could, his chin lowered, his face hidden. I knew he was crying, because that was the way tears worked between the two youngest. When one cried, the other wasn’t far from becoming a watery mess.Hoseok looked from Taehyung to Jungkook, then regarded Yoongi once more, his eyes sharp and steely. He raised a finger at the door. “Leave.”Yoongi returned Hoseok’s gaze unflinchingly. Calmly, he twisted his arm out of Taehyung’s grip. He lifted the same arm and, in movement that was almost graceful, swept a hand through the formation of figurines on the nearest shelf. They pattered to the floor, bouncing and rolling to a stop at the members’ feet.Yoongi’s lips moved and deepened into a smile, the same one that dripped with mockery and contempt.“My pleasure.”::::::::::
If you want to love a person, you should know that there are tears, and there can even be hatred inside of it. I think a love really includes all of that.
But was it still love, when hatred overwhelmed?
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Any self-help book on the topic would tell you that grief was a journey marked by different stages that, if followed, would eventually bring you to the ideal place where complete acceptance existed, where you could finally talk about your loss, perhaps with tears and a pinch in your heart, but without falling apart.The purpose of such books was to provide hope to the desperate, so they don’t tell you that the journey isn’t always straightforward, that you could find yourself back at the starting point even when you were near the end just the week before. They don’t serve the harsh truth that some people stay marooned at one stage and never moved on.I wasn’t an expert in grief, but I knew all these by watching my members.Yoongi’s behaviour had rattled the maknae line. Jungkook still joined the others at the dining table, but he became even more silent and withdrawn, never uttering a word unless directly spoken to. Jimin started to wear irritation on his face, an emotion that he once vented on Taehyung when he caught the latter slipping into a sorrowful quiet. “Stop moping!” He’d snapped, and Taehyung’d cowered, his eyes wide with fright. Jin and Hoseok had intervened and separated the both of them before the situation could devolve into a quarrel, automatically assuming the role of reason and steadiness in a household where emotions were violent, tossing waves.This afternoon, two days after the incident in my room, the house was eerily quiet. Jin had taken the maknae line out, claiming that he needed help with grocery shopping. Fifteen minutes after they left, Hoseok came out of his room. He went to Yoongi’s door and knocked. I had an inkling why Jin had chosen that time to take the rest out.“I’m coming in,” Hoseok said when no reply came. Those three words had become a ritual, said by the members every time they wanted to pass Yoongi a message or invite him to join them for a meal. This time, however, there was nothing careful about Hoseok’s tone. He was authoritative, his words edged with impatience. He twisted the knob and opened the door.With the lights off and curtains drawn, Yoongi’s room was dim, presenting a stark juxtaposition to the living room where sunlight spilled generously through the floor-to-ceiling windows and made the marble floor look like molten gold. Yoongi was slouched on the couch, his feet crossed upon an ottoman. In his hand was a different book from the other day. Hoseok’s intrusion elicited no reaction from him.His jaw tightening, Hoseok strode to the curtains and split them apart with a rattle. Yoongi hissed at the sudden burst of light. He shot Hoseok a glare that Hoseok returned. Yoongi looked away first, shifting onto his side and leaving Hoseok with a view of his back. The couch was meant for one person, but it could probably fit two of him with how much weight Yoongi’d lost.In one big step, Hoseok was by Yoongi’s side. He plucked the book out of Yoongi’s hand and scrutinised the cover, feigning interest. “Paulo Coelho… A rather spiritual choice. So, tell me, did you find anything that helped?”Yoongi ignored Hoseok. Instead, he reached for another book from the stack sitting on the stand next to him. Hoseok took that book away too, tossing the two books he now had onto the bed the way one would throw a frisbee. An awkward tango started. Every time Yoongi took one book, Hoseok snatched it away and threw it onto the bed. When there were no books left in his arm’s distance, Yoongi slid his legs off the ottoman. He’d risen halfway from the couch when Hoseok clamped a firm hand on his shoulder and forced him back down.Finally, Yoongi looked at Hoseok. The resentment in his eyes gripped me.Hoseok was unfazed. “We can keep at this the whole day. I have time, plenty of it. Or you can act like an adult and listen to me. I’ll leave once I’ve said my piece.”They engaged in a battle of will, neither willing to back down. Eventually, Yoongi leaned back into the couch, crossed his legs on the ottoman again, and rested his elbows on the couch’s either arm. He’d schooled his expression into one of boredom, as if he didn’t care what Hoseok had to say.“I have your attention now? Good.” Hoseok removed his hand from Yoongi’s shoulder and settled on the edge of the bed, facing Yoongi. He bent forward and placed his elbows on his knees.“How long do you intend on staying this way?” Hoseok asked.“Don't know,” Yoongi said dully.“Do you know how much you're hurting us?”“Don't care.”“Taehyung couldn’t stop crying the other day. Jungkook—”“I said I don’t care.”Hoseok inhaled deeply. His chest shuddered with the effort to keep his voice even. “The rest said to give you as much time as you need. I believed that too, so we left you alone and walked on eggshells around you. But goddamnit, Hyung, you're making this so hard for us. This is where I draw the line. I can't stop you from torturing yourself, but I won't allow you to hurt my members.”Yoongi raised a sardonic eyebrow. “My members?” He echoed. “Trying to be the leader now that the spot is vacant?”The comment would have stung. A storm brewed in Hoseok’s eyes. “I would have used our if I haven't seen that you’ve stopped caring.”“Caring?” Yoongi sneered. “Look where all those caring got me. Caring about Namjoon was my biggest mistake. Why should I care when caring doesn’t stop anyone from leaving without any remorse or hesitation. So no, never again would I care.”“You’re shaking,” said Hoseok, his words slicing quietly through Yoongi’s agitated voice.Yoongi froze. He looked at the hands that he’d unknowingly balled into fists. He flexed them open and ran a hand down his face. Tilting his chin, his face was cold and cynical once more, but I noted the way his fingers twitched with small tremors. Neither did Hoseok miss it.“You’re angry and afraid,” said Hoseok, his eyes on Yoongi’s hand. “I understand your anger. I can even empathise with you on it. You’re angry at Namjoon. But what are you afraid of, Hyung? Losing another member? We’re not going anywhere, not unless you push us away.”“Don't assume that you know me,” said Yoongi coldly.Hoseok exhaled. He looked tired. “You’re right. I don’t know you. Not anymore. But as foolish as you may think it is, I still believe that somewhere inside of you, the old Min Yoongi still exists. Jimin believes it too. Though we don’t know how long we can keep believing.”“Don’t wax lyrical on me.”Hoseok shook his head. “No, Hyung, I’m not waxing lyrical. I’m begging you.” His eyes had softened, no longer stern as he spoke from his place as dongsaeng. “I’m begging you to be better than your anger and fear, to fight free and to come back to us. If not for yourself, then for us.”“What if I don’t want to?”Hoseok smiled sadly. “Then you’re going to lose us too.”There was a brief pause of silence. Three cruel words twisted out of Yoongi’s lips.“So be it.”::::::::::In our earlier days as Bangtan, people’d believed that Yoongi was the coldest and the savage one out of the seven of us. It wasn’t difficult to understand why. On TV, he appeared to be immune to the antics of the other members, his tongue always ready to deliver a sharp remark to keep us in check. This personality of his extended to how he interacted with us in private. We often joked that he suffered from a deficiency in the feelings department. However, even though no one had ever voiced it, we understood that the precise opposite was true. Yoongi was cold, aloof and sarcastic not because he didn’t feel as much as others, but because he felt too much.When we were looked down upon by variety show hosts, he was sullen for days because the injustice had stoked in him a rage that couldn’t be appeased. The day we won our first Billboard award, he’d excused himself to the bathroom to cry in secret while the rest basked in the achievement, because he felt the success and the uncertainty that came with it more than any of us. He felt so much that he had to pretend that he didn’t, because being one of the oldest in the team meant that he didn’t have the luxury of being vulnerable.Yoongi and I, along with Hoseok, had trained the longest. The most difficult part of our trainee life wasn’t the long hours we spent rapping our voices hoarse or forcing our limbs to coordinate in a tricky dance move. The most difficult part was the daily battles that took place in our heads.Back then, our company was small and had limited funds. A debut always felt out of our reach. Day after day, Bang PD told us we need to practice more. But how much more was enough? What if our years of practice were for nothing? What if we find ourselves back at the starting point despite our sacrifices? We lived in constant struggle, and our moods were frequently steeped despair. For Yoongi, that meant spending long days and nights in surly silence, his temper flaring in the form of slammed doors.Then we finally debuted.We left behind our trainee life but not our self-doubt and insecurity. They had become our habits, not something that success could remove like a clean cut of the scalpel. They affected Yoongi a lot, but he coped and became better at it. He grew older and steadier and the constant companionship of the members sanded his rough edges away.Every now and then, he still had his mood swings and stretches of days where he mulled excessively about things he had no control over, but he wasn’t the type to open up to others. In his world, nothing was a better confidant than music, so whenever he found himself at a low, he locked himself in his studio, transcribing all his unease, anger and bitterness into songs. We gave him space and waited for him to return, healed and ready to scale new heights with us.He always did.And I’d make sure he did the same this time.That was how I made my second wish.
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
For two weeks after my death, Big Hit opened the foyer of the company building to the public. The waiting area was transformed into a memorial corner. A massive black and white picture of me spanned the expanse of one wall, lined at the bottom by candlelight flickering in tiny glass bowls. Many people came, the queue snaking out of the building and into the street outside. Most were fans, but there were also people from the general public who felt pity at the loss of a young life and wanted to pay their respects. Bouquets were placed under my picture, and Post-its were tacked on the the message boards, expressing sorrow, condolences, or support for the rest of the members.When Yoongi stepped into the building that midnight, the corner had been removed, the area restored to the arrangement of geometric benches. The security guard on duty seemed surprised to see him; whether by his mere presence or how ghastly white he looked, I didn’t know. Yoongi gave the guard a light nod as he swept past him to the elevators.Yoongi headed up to where all our studios were. The corridor on this floor was narrow, but the doors were set in wall opened into different worlds.When we first started out, Hoseok, Yoongi and I shared a studio so cramped that there was barely walking space if all three of us were present at the same time. That didn’t stop us from huddling in the room together often, filling the space with discussions of our music and talks of our dreams. Then Bangtan started to bring in income and the company gave each of us our own studios. They weren’t big, but we welcomed the privacy. When we grew even bigger, our company moved buildings and we had new studios again. All of a sudden, we had so much space to play around with and truly create our dream studios that reflected ourselves. Jin and the maknae line frequently crashed our studios, with Jungkook frequently going on and on about how he would someday be prolific enough at producing to justify his need for a studio of the same scale to Bang PD.Yoongi’s studio was located at the most coveted end of corridor where few people walked by. It was a privilege he earned after beating Hoseok and me in a game of rock, paper, scissors. Tonight, though, his studio wasn’t his destination.Instead, he stopped in his tracks halfway into the corridor, and opened the door to mine.:::::::::::
In the darkness, Namjoon dropped an uncracked egg into the pot of boiling water, hissing when the resulting splatter landed on his skin. He wiped his hand on his shirt, cursing. When the lights came on suddenly, he spun around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Standing next to the switch was Yoongi, wearing the raggedy T-shirt and drawstring pants that was his pyjamas. His eyes narrowed upon Namjoon.
“What are you doing?”
“J-just making some supper.” Namjoon flashed Yoongi an innocent smile.
Yoongi walked over to Namjoon, his face unamused. Namjoon shifted and held his body at an angle so that the width of the stove could accommodate the both of them. The kitchen was tiny, made even more crammed by the cluttered table jammed against one wall.
Yoongi looked into the pot. The egg spun about in the rapidly bubbling water, a ribbon of white oozing out of the hairline crack in its shell. He regarded Namjoon with a raised eyebrow.
“Just an egg for supper?”
“I’m hungry but not that hungry, Hyung.” Namjoon smiled again, so hard that his cheeks dimpled.
“So I’m to believe that the egg is not for the ugly-ass bump current adorning your forehead?”
Namjoon’s hand reached up automatically to flatten his own fringe. He winced when the gesture sharpened the dull throb near his temple. “Didn’t think you’d notice it.”
“What do you think I am? Blind? You could be a newly discovered dinosaur species with that forehead.”
Namjoon cowered and mumbled like a petulant child, “It wasn’t that bad on the way back.”
In the brief pause of silence that followed, Yoongi held Namjoon in a pinning gaze. Namjoon fidgeted uncomfortably, ducking his head as though that would mitigate the intensity of Yoongi’s glare.
“Are you going to tell me what happened,” Yoongi began coolly, “or am I going to have to force it out of you?”
Namjoon released a long sigh of surrender. “We had to do an obstacle course on the water today. I slipped when I was trying to cross this rotating barrel, and you know how I am. I didn’t land too prettily.”
“And you went straight back to filming after that? Nobody helped you? Everyone just laughed it off? Like you falling and hurting yourself was some big joke?” By the time Yoongi finished, his chest was heaving.
“You know how it is,” said Namjoon quietly.
“That does not mean that I should accept it,” snapped Yoongi. “Last week you came home with a nasty cut on your hand. The week before that you had a strained ligament. What’s next? A broken bone?”
“I'll be more careful.”
“You know that's not my point, Kim Namjoon,” said Yoongi sharply. “we didn’t debut to be the butt of other peoples’ jokes just so some TV station could get their ratings.”
“The thing is, Hyung, all these are part of what we knew we have to go through when we signed up to be idols,” said Namjoon. “I wish I could spend more time on our music than attending these shows, but I have to do this because our music won’t matter if we don’t get our name out there. Hopefully if I’m funny or clumsy enough, people will notice me and look up our group and our songs.”
Yoongi’s face was still hard, but his anger had become as quiet as the simmering pot of water between them. It was the kind of anger that would exist just under the surface for a long time, fuelling dreams and forming the backbone of perseverance.
“You don't have to go for every single show,” murmured Yoongi.
“I wish. We’re not at the level where we could reject the show producers without risking a boycott. We are…” Namjoon swallowed, “We are nobodies, Hyung.”
Yoongi’s lips flattened. “Other members can take turns to go.”
Namjoon looked pained. “The shows are very specific about who they want.”
Yoongi said nothing as he pulled a ladle from the utensils holder and turned off the flame. He fished the egg out of the water and onto the face towel Namjoon’d laid out on the counter.
“Someday,” he began as he gathered and twisted the cloth around the egg. He handed the egg to Namjoon, his eyes holding a promise. “Someday we are going to be so big that none of us have to do this anymore. If we do it, it's because we want to, and it's all of us or none.”
::::::::::Yoongi turned the lights on.My studio was the way I’d left it. The Bearbricks, ranging from arm-length to toddler-sized, stood like soldiers on the shelves, their smooth wooden shell catching the light in fuzzy pools. Behind the coffee table was the couch, and in the corner nearest to it was the air purifier that Taehyung’d fooled around with when he crashed one of my VLive. The surfaces were spick-and-span and without dust, which meant that the janitors still came in regularly for upkeep. For reasons unbeknownst to myself, the idiosyncrasies applicable to my bedroom back at the apartment did not apply here. As much as I could relax and sleep in messiness, I could only work in neat spaces where everything was where they belonged.Yoongi moved past the microphone stand to my workstation. He pulled out the chair and dropped himself into it. For many seconds, he simply sat back and stared at the painting affixed behind the desktop computer whose dark screen mirrored his reflection.Then he bent forward, reached out a finger and pressed the power button. He leaned back again as the Mac began to whir softly, waiting for the screen to lit up. The circle of my user pic appeared against a blurred background of my wallpaper, and the bar right below it prompted Yoongi to enter the password. He pulled the keyboard closer to him.A person’s computer has many secrets, and mine was no exception. After many instances in the past where my nosy members had discovered less-than-savoury videos on my old computers or had accidentally deleted my files, I had learned the importance of setting complicated passwords and not disclosing them to anyone.Yoongi positioned his fingers above the keyboard and, after a brief moment of hesitation, he began to hit the keys one after another.He hit Enter.He logged in.::::::::::
The music stopped abruptly when Yoongi hit the stop button.
As the last of the notes reverberated in the practice room, Namjoon held his position. His critical eyes assessed his reflection in the mirror, checking that his arms were bent at the right angle, that his feet weren’t awkwardly sticking out.
Then, without warning, he crumpled to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been severed, exhaustion finally catching up with his muscles.
“That’s enough for today,” said Yoongi, tossing him a towel that landed unceremoniously on his head.
Chest still heaving, Namjoon didn’t argue. He dragged the towel across the sweat that pebbled his forehead and his neck. Between one gasping breath and the next, Namjoon managed to say, “It sucks to be bad at dancing.”
The digital clock on the wall showed 23:14. They were here since ten in the morning, practicing over and over again their moves in Fire so that they wouldn’t slow their group down when the time comes to record for music shows that upcoming week. The other members had gone back an hour ago, not because they were skimping on practice, but because Namjoon and Yoongi felt like they needed more.
Yoongi arched an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not putting my dancing abilities at the same level as yours.”
“No, of course not, you’re infinitely better than me. And Jin Hyung,” added Namjoon with an impish grin. “You’re here to provide me with some much needed company, aren’t you?”
“You’re delusional.” Yoongi scoffed. “Just to be clear, I’m staying behind to practise too, but not so that I won’t screw up, but so that I can be as close to perfect as possible.”
“And,” Namjoon dragged the word out as he fell backward onto his sweat-drenched back, “Savage Suga strikes again.”
Namjoon kicked his legs out and stretched his arms as far as they’d go, resembling a human starfish as he stared at the overhead lights that rendered the room so bright no mistakes went unnoticed. Levity faded from his face. “It's tomorrow,” he said.
“I know.” Yoongi, sitting with his back against the wall, twisted the cap off a bottle of water and took a long guzzle. He dragged the back of his hand across his lips. “Just thinking about it makes me feel like throwing up.”
“It’s not the first time we’re releasing an album. Why does it feel different this time?”
“Because this is the first time we dug so deep into ourselves that it feels like there's nothing left of us to give. All the songs are our stories. If this album fails,” Yoongi paused, “it'd be like getting a death sentence for being ourselves.”
Namjoon nodded. “I often ask myself why we keep doing this. Putting parts of ourselves out there again and again, giving others permission to pick us apart. The irony is,” he smiled wryly, “no matter how many times we receive hate and criticisms, we don’t get used to them. They still sting.”
“We’re probably masochistic.”
Namjoon snorted. He turned his head to look at Yoongi. “What do you think is the best possible outcome after tomorrow?”
Yoongi angled his face upward, as if the blank expanse of the ceiling were a canvas upon which he could paint his desires. “We dominate the charts. We sweep the trophies. We finally, finally get a daesang.”
“There are people who believe that we aren't real musicians if we care too much about charts and awards.”
Disdain tightened the corners of Yoongi’s mouth. “Those people are either not in this industry or they have placed themselves on too high a pedestal to know the realities. We have to make the music the public likes before we can make the music we like. And how do we measure public sentiments? By charts and awards.”
Namjoon neither agreed nor disagreed. He folded an arm under his head and asked the next question.“Then what would be the worst?”
The answer came quicker this time, as if it had been loitering fully-formed in Yoongi’s head.
“People think that our album is shit,” said Yoongi flatly. “Armies decide that they’ve been following a group of wannabes and plan a mass exodus. Bang PD cuts our budget.”
“That'd destroy me,” said Namjoon.
“Bang PD cutting our budget?”
Namjoon shook his head. “Everything else.”
For a moment, Yoongi looked vulnerable. He sighed. “You won't be the only one feeling that way.”
“And if the worst really happens, what comes after?”
Yoongi considered the question for a long time before he spoke.
“We’ll mope for a month or two. We’ll wonder where we went wrong. We’ll talk a little about disbanding.” Yoongi’s eyes hardened. “Then we find a way to gather ourselves back, and we start working on our next album.”
Namjoon grinned. “Because we’re Bangtan, and Bangtan doesn't know what giving up means.”
:::::::::::
Yoongi glided the cursor over the screen with the certainty of someone who knew exactly what he was looking for and where he would find it.He opened the Finder, double-clicked on Music, bypassed the folder labelled Completed and accessed the one named WIP. He paused for a second, his eyes moving down the long list of audio files displayed on the screen. In what seemed like a random choice, he picked a file located somewhere in the middle.Music, heavy in bass and beat, poured out of the speakers, filling the room and thumping like its own heart. Then, just as abruptly as it’d started, it ended.Yoongi opened the next file, and the next, and the next. All the music they contained was too short to be considered a song. Some of them could mark a song’s beginning, some the middle, and some the end. However, most were undecided, silvers of inspiration that had darted like fishes in my head and demanded to be written down lest they were lost.The frown on Yoongi’s face deepened. He pulled the notepad toward him and plucked a pencil out of the wooden holder. Straightening his back, he finally got to work.::::::::::
Deafening applause rose from all sides of the stadium. A long platform led to the main stage where the greatest honour of the night awaited. A stopwatch would show that they took just shy of thirty seconds to walk to the award, but all of them knew that they took much longer than that.
It took them three years.
On the stage, Namjoon stood right behind Yoongi. “We made it, Hyung,” he whispered, his voice as shaky as his legs and his heart. “We made it.”
::::::::::Hoseok drew the knob toward him, shutting the door so quietly and fluidly that Yoongi hadn’t realised he had come and gone. In the corridor, Hoseok turned to the staff member who was concerned enough to inform him of Yoongi’s presence in the studio.“How long has he been inside?” Hoseok asked her.“A security guard said that he came in at midnight yesterday .”Hoseok looked at his watch.“Should we ask him if everything is okay?” She chewed her lower lip worriedly. “Or bring him some food?”Hoseok frowned at the door, his fingers drumming against the side of his pants the way they do whenever he had to make a difficult decision.“No,” he decided finally, “leave him be, but help me keep an eye on him.”::::::::::
The question flew out of Namjoon’s mouth the moment Yoongi answered the bell and opened the door to his studio.
“Hyung, what is this all about? I heard from the producers that you want to make some changes to the tracks?”
“You heard right,” said Yoongi. He let go of the door handle and walked back to his desk. He sank into the roller chair and turned to the many computer screens, each displaying squiggly lines contained in boxes stacked upon one another, weaving a complete song.
Namjoon closed the door behind him. “But it’s too late in the production stage to make any more changes.” His voice was urgent and perplexed. We’re already in the midst of mastering the tracks. If we’re to make the kind of changes you want to, which is essentially rewriting whole parts of the songs, we are going to have to set the release back by at least one month, and that’s an optimistic estimation.”
“Then push back the release date,” Yoongi uttered without sparing Namjoon a glance. “Because this album can be more. It has to be more.”
Out of frustration, Namjoon took his snapback off and carded his fingers through his thick hair. “I’ll be honest with you. You’re nitpicking at this point, because the rest and I are pretty damn proud of what we’ve done for this album.”
“‘Pretty damn proud’ is not good enough for me.” Yoongi’s teeth clenched in frustration. “I’m not going to put out a subpar album just to meet a deadline. If we are doing that, we are better off scrapping it. I can’t say the same for you, but I’ve not lost myself that far to fame to make compromising on quality a habit.”
Namjoon sucked in a deep whistle of breath. “Hyung, sometimes you just say the most hurtful things.”
Yoongi’s jaw tautened. He kept his eyes resolutely on the screens, replying Namjoon with clicks of the mouse.
“We need to talk.” Namjoon strode to the spot beside Yoongi’s chair and dropped himself onto the floor cross-legged. Unlike his own studio,Yoongi’s had no couch for guests. Guests weren’t really welcome in the first place.
Namjoon stared up at Yoongi until the latter could no longer ignore him. With a turn of the neck and a tilt of the chin, Yoongi angled a glare at Namjoon.
Now that he had Yoongi’s attention, Namjoon said, “Tell me what’s bothering you. Because I don’t think this is just about the album anymore.”
Yoongi snorted humourlessly, his eyes flicking back to the screen. “What else could it be about?”
“Yeah? Then care to explain why you don’t look happy making music anymore?”
Yoongi whirred around so violently that the side of his chair crashed into his desk and the screens shook. “Because I’m not, okay?” He snapped, his sudden outburst resembling a pressure cooker that could no longer contain the buildup of steam. “Because I can’t seem to stop second-guessing myself at every turn and wondering if this is the right note or that is the right beat. Is that a good enough answer for you? Now get out so I can concentrate.”
Namjoon didn’t budge. “What is it that has changed?” He asked softly.
“Everything,” said Yoongi bitterly. He blew out a shuddering breath and clamped his forehead between his thumb and fingers of one hand. “We should never have gotten this big. Remember the talk that we had about how we have to make the music the public likes before we can make the music we like?”
Namjoon nodded, but Yoongi didn’t seem like he’d noticed. He continued.
“Turns out that I had it all wrong, because the more the public likes our music, the more we have to make the music that they like. Too many misses and they’ll turn their backs on us. I thought this is what I wanted —To climb so high that the world sees us. But now that we are at the top, I get cold feet and I want out. It has never really occured to me until now that the higher we climb, the harder we are going to fall. What is going to be left of us after that?”
Yoongi’s words rang in the air. Namjoon waited till the quiet washed them away. Then he asked, “Feel better? Can I say something now?”
“Go ahead,” Yoongi muttered. “Say how pathetic you think I am.”
“Then you’re not the only one who’s pathetic. I understand how you feel because there are days I pine to go back to our rookie days where the expectations of the world is not on our shoulders. When we were at the pit-bottom, we could afford to be fearless because there was no way for us to go further down.”
Yoongi pursed his lips and said nothing.
“But were we not struggling at that time? Were those days not difficult for us?” Namjoon continued. “My point is, we’ll never stop struggling, whether we are at the top, middle, or bottom. We’ll struggle with or without fame. But in all our struggles, there are pockets of time where the love in what we do makes the hardship easier to bear. For Hoseok and Jimin, it’s dancing. For you and me,” he waved at the computer screens, “it’s making music. And this is the feeling we need to safeguard. The world can take away our fame but not our joy in making music, not unless you allow it to. You’re right. Our place at the top isn’t permanent. We are going to fall someday. So why not take the tumble with smiles on our faces, thankfulness in our hearts, and satisfaction in the knowledge that we’d enjoyed not only the journey up, but also the way down?”
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
On the third morning since he stepped into my studio, Yoongi returned to the apartment and found the rest of the members gathered for breakfast. He stood silently in the relative shadow of a wall, seemingly uncertain as he watched them.Jungkook was the first to notice him. “Suga Hyung?”The low-energy murmur of a conversation hovering above the dining table died abruptly. All the members followed the direction of Jungkook’s gaze, some of them having to turn their heads over their shoulders to do so.An uncomfortable moment followed where eyes were locked but nothing was said. The rest of the members took in Yoongi’s appearance, seeing what I did. His hair was greasy at the roots, and his complexion wasn’t any less pasty, but something about his face had softened.Jin was the first to break the silence, wearing a warm smile. “Breakfast?”Yoongi cleared his throat awkwardly. “I stink,” he said, pulling at the collar of the shirt he'd been wearing for the past three days to make a point.“It's okay, Hyung,” Jimin piped, his face bright now that Yoongi no longer emanated danger, “I haven't brushed my teeth either.”Jin and Jungkook shot Jimin looks of incredulity and disgust.Taehyung, who had been listless just a moment ago, perked up too. He shifted to the next chair, vacating a seat between Jungkook and himself. “Come, Hyung, sit here.”Yoongi obliged, settling into the seat just as Jin returned from the kitchen with another set of plate and cutlery.For the first time in slightly more than a month, all six members were present at the dining table, three occupying each side. Nobody moved, as though afraid that the slightest movement would break the spell. Jin and the maknaes wore on their faces a careful hope, but Hoseok, who sat across from Yoongi and hadn’t spoken a word, looked wary.“So, you made breakfast?” Yoongi directed the question at Jin. I was glad that Yoongi was the one who reached out this time, because the rest relaxed visibly.“We did,” Jungkook said immediately. “Jimin Hyung, V Hyung, and I.”Upon closer look, the food on the table indeed appeared rough around the edges, having none of finesse that are indicative of Jin’s hand. Yoongi’s lips twisted in dry humour, one without malice. “Well, it certainly looks that way.”Jin laughed, but Taehyung shushed him. “Hyung,” Taehyung addressed Yoongi, a wheedling whine making his voice nasal, “they may not look appetising, but I swear they taste good.” With his fork, he stabbed a french toast that looked like it had been left in the pan for too long and shook it off onto Yoongi’s plate.“But not as good as this,” Jimin added a mini-muffin onto Yoongi’s plate.“That’s because you used store-bought pre-mix,” Jungkook accused, “and they are too dry. Eat the waffles instead, Hyung. You’ll be surprised. I added marshmallows.”“They are not dry,” Jimin retorted in defence of his muffins. “The right brand of store-bought pre-mix makes muffins as good as any bakeries’. Besides, Namjoon Hyung would have—”Jimin caught himself too late. Taehyung and Jungkook stiffened at my name. This is it, their terrified faces seemed to express, this is where the harmony that had barely made its return would unravel again. Jimin looked like he was an inch away from punching himself, and Jin frowned in worry.It was, however, Hoseok whom Yoongi looked at. Hoseok’s eyes were as sharp and uncompromising as an eagle’s. The questions in them were clear: What will you do? Are you going to blow up like you did before? Flip the plate and walk away? Hurt us again?It was a test that Yoongi wasn’t allowed to fail.“Sorry, Hyung, I—”Yoongi cut Jimin off. “Namjoon would’ve said any effort in cooking is good effort. Though I wouldn’t give too much weight to that statement considering that it came from someone who would’ve destroyed the oven before making anything akin to a muffin.”The mouths of the maknae line parted in surprise. Jin smiled, his eyes twinkling in relief and pride as he gave Yoongi a tiny nod.Yoongi rubbed his nose, as though trying not to look embarrassed. He picked up his fork. “Let’s eat, shall we? I’m starving.”Everyone at the table sprang to action. They heaped food onto their own plates and shoved their mouths full with a heartiness that had eluded them before.No one brought up my name again. I didn’t think any of them would or should. Indeed, the stifling tension had loosened its hold, but traces of it still lingered at the edges. For the time being, the rest of the members would dance around the hole that was my absence when they talked to Yoongi, not mentioning it unless Yoongi was the one to bring it up. And for the time being, that would be enough.As the breakfast happened in full swing, Yoongi’s eyes connected with Hoseok’s once more. Hoseok gave Yoongi the barest of a smile. Amidst the clatter of metal against ceramics and members talking over one another, his mouth moved in silent words.“Welcome back.”:::::::::::Breakfast ended about an hour ago. After the plates were cleared, Taehyung and Jungkook enthusiastically invited Yoongi to join them on their outing to the skateboard park, completely missing the greenish-dark circles under Yoongi’s eyes indicating that the man would benefit more from sleep than from fresh air or exercise. It was apparent to anyone that Yoongi was exhausted but unable to reject the maknaes’ puppy eyes especially after the events of the past month, so Hoseok’d intervened on his behalf, shooing Taehyung and Jungkook out of the front door with the instruction to “leave Suga Hyung alone until he has caught up with his sleep.”Hoseok and Jimin left for the company shortly after the two youngest. After they were gone, Yoongi took a shower and shaved and looked better than he had in days. As he crossed the living room on his way back to his room, he stopped in his steps and looked out of the sliding glass doors that opened onto the balcony. Jin was there.Yoongi hesitated, his hand pausing in the midst of towelling his hair dry. Then he pressed his lips together and headed to the glass doors, sliding them open. The sound had Jin briefly looking up from what he was doing.“Yoongi, care to join me?” Jin asked as Yoongi’s feet crossed onto the burnt-orange terracotta floor of the balcony.The balcony was spacious and could afford anyone with a passion in horticulture to transform the space into a garden that impressed. We knew for a fact that some of our neighbours took that seriously, artfully positioning trimmed bonsais in deference to fengshui or carving a man-made stream along the circumference in which tiny fishes swam. Our balcony was modest in comparison, holding only a stepped rack of potted plants and a garden bench. The rest was mostly space.Jin snipped a leaf from the plant he was tending to and let it flutter into the bin that sat on the floor.“You’re picking up gardening?” Yoongi asked. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together, as if he couldn’t understand why anything other than music was worth pursuing. It was more of a habit than actual confusion. After all, having spent years with a maknae who zipped through his hobbies like a fashionista through clothes would have built in him some immunity.“To be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing,” Jin said. “I doubt Taehyung realised how difficult it’d be to care for this plant when he gave it to me. I’m just trying to remove all the bad leaves and hope that he doesn’t notice how bad I am at keeping it alive.”Yoongi took a few steps closer to Jin and peered into the bin where many leaves laid at the bottom, their edges brown, curled and brittle. “You might have to make it bald.”Jin pulled a face. “You think so? I better start looking for an identical plant then. You know how Taehyung is when it comes to presents from him.”“Equating how much we treasure his presents to how much we love him.” A corner of Yoongi’s lips quirked in a mixture of amusement and fondness. “You’ll never hear the end from him if he knows.”“Exactly.” Jin sighed. He moved a step back from the plant, tilting his head as he considered it. “I guess this is as good as it is going to look for now.”In the pause that followed, Yoongi fidgeted uncomfortably. He drew in a deep breath, and words gushed out with his exhale. “Listen, Hyung, there are some things I need to tell you.”“Let me guess,” Jin said without looking up from his appraisal of the plant, “you want to apologise?”Yoongi rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, that.”Verbal apologies had never come easy to Yoongi. He usually offered his sorry in other ways, giving Taehyung that extra tonkatsu after a disagreement or handing me a water bottle during our concerts when our clashing ideals had led us into an argument the day before.“Apology accepted,” Jin said, setting aside his scissors and finally resigning himself to the fact that he had done all he could for the plant. He turned to look at Yoongi. “But I’ll only forgive you on one condition: You need to forgive yourself too.”Jin had noticed the same thing that I did. Even though Yoongi’s face was no longer twisted by rage or bitterness, his eyes were framed by guilt that sharpened whenever he thought no one was watching.“I fucked up,” said Yoongi.“Indeed.” Jin nodded. “But don’t we all at some point?”“Not as badly as I did.”“So? That doesn’t make you unforgivable.” Jin moved past Yoongi and settled himself on the bench. He beckoned Yoongi to join. The wood creaked lightly under their combined weight.Sitting side by side, they took in the view beyond the balcony: the pavements below winding through precisely spaced trees and gurgling water features; the apartment complexes across; the impossibly blue sky above. A gentle late-summer breeze curled around them, fluttering their sleeves and teasing their hair.“We own many things others could only dream of having. Recognition, riches and the adoration of millions,” Jin said, “but at the end of the day, we are only human, just people doing the best we could in the circumstances we are thrust into. Yoongi, you already have enough to deal with without the anger at yourself getting in the way. Yes, you screwed up and you should take responsibility for it, but don’t torture yourself with guilt. It benefits no one.”Yoongi looked at Jin as if he was seeing him for the first time. Jin grinned almost cheekily. “Do I sound like Namjoon? I admit that I channelled a little of him.”Yoongi snorted, shaking his head and cracking into a smile. That was his first since my death. Now I had no doubt that the old Min Yoongi was finally falling back into place.“What you’ve said…” Yoongi smile faded as his face became more solemn. “I’ll try.”“That’s a good place to start.”A pair of birds made their way across the sky, two pins of black against the blue.“Do you want to tell me what happened in Namjoon’s studio?” Jin asked after a short silence. His voice was curious but respectful at the same time. If Yoongi wasn’t ready to talk about it, he wouldn’t push.Yoongi rubbed his palms together in a papery rustle, as if marshalling his words. Jin waited patiently.“I worked on the songs he didn’t have the opportunity to finish,” Yoongi began. “As I did that, I felt calm for the first time in days. I thought about a lot of things too, mainly about the struggles we had since we debuted and my misplaced anger. Namjoon…” Yoongi’s voice cracked slightly, “he was a fighter. All of us are because we wouldn’t have been able to get this far if we aren’t. So if Namjoon didn’t make it past his injury, it must be because he couldn’t. I can imagine how frustrated he must be with himself.”
Bullseye, Yoongi, bullseye.
“But anyway,” Yoongi sat up and rubbed a hand down his face, as if determined to shake off the sadness slide before it could fully embrace him, “it was a strange experience. I don’t know where the urge to visit his studio came from. The day before, I wanted to stay in bed forever. He’d never told me his PC password but somehow, I didn’t have a silver of doubt what it is or where he kept his files. Everything just… happened.”Jin nodded. “I know what you mean.”Yoongi frowned. “How?”“A similar thing happened to me too.” Jin stretched out his legs and cross them at the ankles. He looked content and relaxed. “These days I get the feeling that Namjoon is still here with us. I don’t mean in the way we miss him so much that we think of him every day, but that he’s watching all these, itching to kick us in the butt and tell us to get our shit together.”Yoongi’s eyes trailed over the balcony. Maybe it was just sheer coincidence, maybe he could indeed sense me, but he gazed at the spot where I was, even though I knew that it wasn’t me that he saw, but the iron railing and the scenery beyond.“Maybe he is,” Yoongi murmured.“Then we better buck up.” Jin turned his head to regard Yoongi. “Are you all good now?”As Yoongi tore his eyes away from me, I felt a sense of loss.“I don’t know,” Yoongi admitted. “I only know that I feel better than I was yesterday. There’s still anger inside of me, anger at how the world works, at how life throws a curveball at you just for the sake of it, at how fate finds it funny to take Namjoon away from us. I don’t think this anger will ever go away. So I don’t know. I may fuck up again in the future.”“Then let’s hope that all of us don’t fuck up at the same time,” Jin said readily, “so that there’ll always be someone to shepherd you back on track.”Yoongi smiled. “I’m counting on all of you. To be honest, I doubt I’d stray that far from the path. Hoseok’s fury isn’t something I’m eager to experience again.”
End of Yoongi's Chapters
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
For the fifth night in a row since I started keeping track, Jungkook sat in the living room when the rest of the world had gone to bed. His feet were tucked under his thighs, and his arms were wrapped around a cushion. In the halo of light cast by the standing lamp, he played games on his phone or surfed the net, but mostly he stared at the sleek clock above the television. I had no idea what was going through his head.He had always stayed up into the ungodly hours of the morning, going to bed when he couldn’t fight sleep anymore, begrudgingly waking up when he absolutely had to, brushing his teeth in a half-awake state and then quickly ducking into the van so that he could continue sleeping again.My point was, as much as Jungkook was a night owl, he still slept. These days, though, sleep appeared to elude him.The minute hand of the clock moved. Another half an hour had gone by. As if on cue, Jungkook rose from the sofa for his new routine. One by one, starting from Yoongi’s and ending with Taehyung’s, he opened the doors to his hyungs’ rooms, looked inside for a moment longer than a peek, and closed the door softly. When he finished, he returned to the living room, sat down, and stared at the clock again.Thirty minutes later, he made his rounds once more. He did the same thing last night, and tomorrow night, he would do the same thing too. Faithfully. Tirelessly.When the first streak of light appeared in the sky, he switched off the lamp and got onto his feet for the last time, this time to return to his room. Later, as the rest of the apartment stirred and Jin called for breakfast, Jungkook’d come out of his room and join the rest, rubbing his eyes and pretending that he’d slept the night before. He would go about his day, visiting the boxing gym, lifting his dumbbells, going for a two-hour run, or doing a range of other things mankind had conceived to make the human body stronger and speedier.All those activities should have exhausted him. But somehow, he just never slept anymore.What, exactly, was keeping him awake?::::::::::Hoseok and Yoongi returned to the apartment much earlier than was normal for the workaholics that they were. They walked into the living room to find Jin, Jimin and Taehyung already there, their heads lowered over their phones.Hoseok sank down onto the sofa. “What do you think is up with Jungkook?” He asked, locking his fingers together and pushing his arms upward, popping the kinks that tightened his shoulders after spending the whole day in front of the computer.“I don’t know.” Jin shrugged without looking up from his phone. “He didn’t reply when I asked.”“Yeah, I saw that.” Hoseok threw his feet up onto the coffee table. “It’s unlike him to call for a meeting.”“It’s unlike any of us to call for any meeting,” Yoongi emphasised wryly as he padded back into the living room with a glass of water. “I almost thought that it was Namjoon saying hello from the other side when a message popped up in that chat group.”Jimin laughed, the sound striking like wind chimes. “Me too.”My confusion cleared like fog parting as I mined the hints from their conversation and figured out what was going on.Between the members of Bangtan, there were two group chats. The first was used for trivial things such as discussing what dinner to have, complaining about the culprit who misplaced the remote control, or debating whether cake or tart was better. This was the original chat that could ping with annoying frequency, and was one of the reasons why I kept my phone permanently silent. The second group chat was much quieter. We used it for serious business such as calling for important meetings, which meant that I was the one who used it the most. I created the chat group after a few occasions where my members realised only belatedly that they’d missed something important because my message had been washed away by a frivolous deluge of “If I ever found out who stole my underwear, he’s dead,” “How is mint better than choco? Weirdddd,” “WASH YOUR OWN CUP PLS”.The second chat group didn’t have the best reputation. Its messages often foreshadowed difficult dilemmas and unpleasant news. For some reason, Jungkook had found the need to post there, something which he had never done before. Did this have to do with all the nights he had spent awake?In the way rare and out-of-character actions often do, Jungkook’s message had imbued the air with a modicum of unease , but the members were doing a good job at staying cheerful and optimistic. Things in the dorm had been peaceful for a while now, and no one wanted to entertain the possibility of the equilibrium tipping again.I tried to ignore the bad feeling that had settled on me like fine dust. My members had endured a lot in the past two and a half months — my death, Jin and Yoongi’s altercation, and tension tautened to breaking point. Nothing worse could happen, right?My unease lessened only slightly.“Should we get him?” Jimin asked after a brief glance at the sleek clock above the television. It was slightly past nine.“I’ll go.” Just as Taehyung made to get up, Jungkook entered the room. “There you are!”“Yah, how could you be late when you called for this meeting?” Jin complained, his tone more teasing than angry.To the surprise of other members, Jungkook murmured a sorry instead of shooting back with a bratty retort. The members exchanged quick glances, some cocking their heads in questions of what’s going on, and others responding with shrugs of I don’t know. A worried quiet crept into the air, weighing it down.Our living room was massive, and so was our sofa which could easily accommodate twelve people. All of us had our favourite spots or our favourite people to sit next to. But this evening, Jungkook chose to sit at the L-end of the sofa where there was nothing for him to lean comfortably against. It was as if he wanted to put as much distance between the rest and himself. My sense of foreboding sharpened.“Jungkookie, is there something bothering you?” Jimin asked.Jungkook didn’t reply immediately. The rest watched him carefully and patiently as he sat with shoulders slumped and fingers knotted so tightly between his legs that they appeared white. I had the sense that he was making conscious effort to avoid meeting his hyungs’ eyes in what seemed like shame. He inhaled and his chest lifted with the resolve to reveal what was on his mind, but it deflated into a long sigh the next second, as though his courage had decided to desert him at the last moment. This happened a couple more times.“Take your time,” Hoseok said encouragingly. Next to him, Taehyung scratched nervously at a stray thread in the cushion.Jungkook gathered another breath again. This time as he exhaled, two words sputtered out.“I’m sorry.”There was a pause as the rest waited for Jungkook to elaborate. When he didn’t, Jin asked, “What are you sorry for?”Jungkook kept his eyes on his hands. “I spoke to Bang PD today.” His voice sounded dry and hoarse. “I’m terminating my contract with Big Hit.”
Terminating my contract.
Jungkook’s words bled slowly into clarity. The words themselves were simple enough to decode, but them coming from Jungkook was so startling in its absurdity that my mind stalled for a moment. It felt like he was speaking in an extraterrestrial tongue. I turned the words over and over in my head, rearranging and flipping them to see if there was another way of interpretation.There was none.Jungkook was quitting Bangtan.Jungkook, who defined Bangtan and whom Bangtan defined.No one saw that coming.Taehyung widened his mouth into a grin. If one looked closely, he’d see that Taehyung’s lips wobbled at its corners. “You should’ve roped me in. We could have come up with a more believable prank together.”“I’m leaving the group,” Jungkook whispered.“If this is a joke, you’re going too far,” said Jimin, his face murderous. “It’s not funny anymore.”The hyung line had their eyebrows furrowed, but they said nothing. They knew like I did that Jungkook couldn’t be joking. Jungkook was cheeky in the way the youngest in any household generally was, devilishly toeing every line and experimenting how much his hyungs would let him get away with. But no matter how mischievous or bored he was, he held Bangtan too close to his heart to make it the subject of a prank. It was a line he would never cross.“Say that this is a joke,” Jimin insisted.“I’m sorry,” Jungkook croaked.Jimin shot to his feet. Before he could lunge at Jungkook, Jin snagged him by his elbow. “Jimin, calm down. Let’s hear what Jungkook has to say, okay?”Jimin made a noise of frustration as he dropped himself back into the sofa. He stabbed his fingers into his hair and closed his fists at its root. Next to Hoseok, Taehyung was in shock, his eyes wide and unseeing.When Jimin had calmed down a notch, Hoseok regarded Jungkook. His eyes were sharp and critical in the way they were when he was assessing our practice, though there were a lot more at stake here than a botched dance move. “Tell us why,” he said.Again, Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to look at the others when he spoke. “I’ve been with Bangtan for the most of my life. I feel like it’s time to move on. I want to do other things, maybe set up an editing company or go pro at gaming.”Everyone saw Jungkook’s explanation for what it was — nonsensical, overly simple and too well-rehearsed to be the truth. Jungkook had many hobbies that he loved, but he loved Bangtan more than all of those hobbies put together.Jimin barked a derisive laugh. “Don’t take us for fools.”“Is this about Namjoon?” Yoongi asked quietly.Jungkook stiffened, then nodded slowly. “After seeing what happened to Namjoon Hyung, I realised how short life is and I want to pursue my other dreams.”“Don’t lie,” Yoongi said in the same quiet voice. “If you are leaving Bangtan, we deserve the truth as your colleagues and as your hyungs.”“I don’t know how to continue without Namjoon Hyung.” The words tumbled out of Jungkook in a rush, tripping over one another. A tear eased out of his eye. He pulled his T-shirt collar up to wipe it away.What did Jungkook mean by he couldn't continue without me? He had other members. Jimin echoed my confusion.“But don’t you still have us?” he asked fiercely. “Do you not want us or our fans anymore?”“I'm sorry,” Jungkook said again, the crack in his whisper more heartbreaking than the last.“Stop saying that,” Jimin snapped. “It doesn't help any.”A small wheeze, the sound of breathing through tears, started in the background. It came from Taehyung. His head was bowed, his fringe sweeping forward to obscure his face. Hoseok put a hand on the small of Taehyung’s back.“What did Bang PD say?” Hoseok asked, absentmindedly rubbing Taehyung’s back.“He gave me a week to reconsider,” Jungkook mumbled. “He refuses take any action before I talk to all of you. I agreed. I thought it's only fair that you know—”Jin lifted his face sharply. “You come to us after you went to Bang PD to tell him your decision. Do you really think that’s fair?”Jimin snorted sarcastically. Jungkook flinched and found no words to excuse himself. Taehyung’s tears seemed to have grown louder.“A week.” Hoseok nodded. “Good. You have one week to make us understand why you want to leave because at the moment, nothing is making sense to me. True, it’s difficult without Namjoon but isn’t it the same for — Taehyung, what’s wrong?”At the alarm in Hoseok’s voice, all the attention in the room converged upon Taehyung. His chest was heaving in a rhythm too fast and too shallow. The sound he’d been making wasn’t him trying to breathe. It was him struggling to.“Oh God.” Jin scrambled out of his seat, the cushion on his lap sliding onto the floor. He fell to his knees in front of Taehyung. “Taehyung, you need to breathe. Slowly. Follow my lead.”Taehyung threw his head back like drowning man who couldn’t pull enough air into his chest. His eyes were wide without focus. Every gasping breath he took seemed to die in his throat without progressing to his lungs.Yoongi, Jimin and Jungkook got to their feet. They tried to move closer to Taehyung, but Jin turned his head over his shoulder and said, “Stand back.” He turned his attention back to Taehyung and held both of Taehyung’s wrists, brushing his thumbs against the thin skin where the pulse beat. “Taehyung, breathe for me, please. In. Out. In. Out.”Taehyung didn’t seemed to hear anything. A note of desperation had wormed into Jin’s voice. Hoseok stroke Taehyung’s back with the air of someone who was uncertain if what he was doing was actually helpful.“Hyung, why is this happening?” Jimin asked, scared.Nobody answered him.Jimin rounded on Jungkook, who was standing shock still a few feet away. “This is all your fault!”Yoongi rested a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Not now, Jimin.”In the minutes that followed, Taehyung became paler. His breathing remained erratic. Nothing Jin or Hoseok was doing seemed to help.“Call the ambulance,” Jin finally said, his voice shaky, “Now.”:::::::::::Jin got on the ambulance with Taehyung. At the hospital, an oxygen mask was snapped over Taehyung’s and a cocktail of drugs with complicated names were given. In the flurry of activity, Jin was steady, stepping in to answer the doctor’s and nurses’ questions with calm and practiced efficiency.We were frequents of hospitals after all. We’d lumbered through the sliding glass doors more times than our fingers could count, requesting a shot or an IV drip so that our bodies could hang on just enough for us to make it through our next schedule.On the doctor’s orders, Taehyung was to stay overnight. Just in case.“Yes, he's okay now. Yeah, I know,” Jin spoke into his phone, his voice echoing off the white walls and dull gray stairs of the stairwell. “No, don't come. Go to sleep. Yes. Yes. Don't worry. Good night. Yes, I will. See you tomorrow.”Jin peeled the phone off his ear and ended the call with Hoseok and the rest. He released an exhausted sigh and left the stairwell to return to Taehyung’s ward.When he opened the door, Taehyung raised his head an inch off the pillow, looking relieved. “I thought you left.”The harsh fluorescent ceiling lights had been turn off. The sole source of light in the room was the lamp mounted on the wall behind the bed. Even in its warm orange glow, Taehyung managed to look pale.“I told you I was just going to call the rest. Why are you still awake?” Jin asked as he settled in the chair next to the bed.“Can’t sleep,” Taehyung mumbled, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.“Try. We know how whiny and clingy you are when you’re sleep-deprived.”It was a well-meaning jab to coax a pout out of Taehyung or rile him up into a childish defense. Taehyung only looked sad and troubled.“Hyung, is…” Taehyung’s voice hitched with a croak, “is Jungkook really—”“We’re not talking about that tonight,” Jin interrupted firmly. “We can talk about it tomorrow, when you are feeling better. And when you get enough sleep.” He added before Taehyung could argue.Taehyung’s eyes fell. That moment, I glimpsed something deeper than sadness on his face, something which I’d seen on other people’s faces but never on his. It caught me off guard. Before I could analyse it further and give it a name, it vanished.Maybe it was just a trick of light.“Okay,” Taehyung agreed with Jin. “I’ll try to sleep now.”“Good.”“Will you stay here with me?” The neediness on Taehyung’s face made him look like a child. “I don’t think I can sleep alone.”Our fans had often joked that Jin was the parental figure of Bangtan. It wasn’t far from the truth. Like the way children who’d taken a tumble would toddle to their parents seeking comfort, it was Jin whom the maknae line ran to when they needed to be babied, and Taehyung needed that now. The hospital was a lonely place that magnified your worries, where unwanted thoughts could sprout between the beeps and whir of machines and wind themselves around the throats of the sleepless.“I’m not going anywhere,” Jin assured.Taehyung nodded. He snuggled onto the side that faced Jin, the sheets that smelled of disinfectant rustling as he did so. He closed his eyes. Barely ten seconds had gone by when he opened them again.“Hyung?”Jin sighed. “What now?”“I’m sorry.” Taehyung whispered.“What for?”For a few beats, Taehyung didn’t respond.“I…I don’t know,” he said finally. “I just feel like I have to apologise. I know you don’t like hospitals.”“Who does? We need to figure out why you’re so good at ending up in hospitals.” Jin brushed a lock of hair out of Taehyung’s eyes. “Then we are going to do something about it so that we don’t find ourselves in this position again.”Jin was referring to that incident a few years back, where a feverish Taehyung had taken a fall in the bathroom. No blood, stitches or fever were involved this time, but ironically it was more cause for worry.It could be an anxiety attack, the doctor had said just now.Anxiety and Taehyung — two words that didn’t belong in the immediate radius of each other. Maybe an attack like that would happen again. Maybe it wouldn’t. The doctor couldn’t say for certain.“Hyung—“ Taehyung began again, but Jin cut him off.“If you’re not asleep within the next,” Jin paused, lifting his arm and consulted his wristwatch purposefully, “thirty seconds, I’m leaving.”That seemed to do the trick.“Okay. Okay.” Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the scratchy blanket to his chin. “I’ll sleep. I’ll sleep”His fingers still twitched and his eyes still moved under his eyelids, but he didn’t open them again, having taken Jin’s threat to heart. It took longer than thirty seconds, but eventually he drifted to sleep, because that was what happened when you kept your eyes closed long enough.A soft knock sounded on the door. It opened a fraction and a white shaft of light speared in from the corridor, silhouetting Sejin, our manager. Jin looked at him and put a finger to his lips. Sejin nodded, then beckoned at Jin before closing the door.Jin rose to his feet. He didn’t leave immediately. He gazed down at the bed for a long moment, and I saw Taehyung through his eyes: the loosened frown on the younger’s face, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, the telltale pout that he had finally surrendered to the drowsy pull of the drugs.Taehyung was safe.Jin headed out and closed the door behind him.Sejin was waiting in the corridor. Jin’d called him on the ambulance, and he’d arrived at the hospital an hour after they had, handling the admission paperwork, notifying the company and making sure that the paparazzi hadn’t caught wind of it yet.Now that Taehyung had settled and Jin wasn't as worried as he had been, he noticed the surprisingly nice blazer and polished loafers that Sejin was wearing.“You look nice today,” Jin commented, scanning Sejin from head to toe. “Did I interrupt a date?”Sejin shrugged ambiguously.“I’m sorry,” Jin said anyway.“Don't be silly.” Sejin waved him off. “You can interrupt me as much as you want.” He nodded at the door to Taehyung’s room, concern pinching his brows. “What exactly happened? Taehyung never had an attack like that before.”Jin looked at Sejin, conflicted. Had I been in Jin’s shoes, I’d hesitate too. On one hand, this was Jungkook’s matter. If anyone were to tell Sejin before the company did, it’d have to be Jungkook himself, not us. On the other, this was Sejin we were talking about. He was tall, broad, built like a golem and had the biggest and most patient heart of anyone I’d known. He was the first person we thought of when we lose our passports, when we received befuddling letters from tax authorities or, more generally, when we faced any problems we couldn’t handle because we had focused all our time on refining our idol skills. We learned singing, dancing, rapping and when to wink at the camera to send hearts fluttering, but we didn’t learn how to adult. We didn’t have to. There was always Sejin Hyung.Jin leaned against a wall beside Sejin, his sneakers squeaking a little against the vinyl floor. “Jungkook told us he wants out of Bangtan.”Sejin’s eyes widened. His jaw slackened.Jin chuckled humourlessly. “Hard to believe, I know. And then all of a sudden Taehyung had trouble breathing and so here we are.”“Did Jungkook say why?” Sejin’s voice was as calm and gentle as I’d expected. There was no quick anger or blame.“He did, but I don’t understand most of it.” Jin pinched the bridge of his nose. “He said something about Namjoon and wanting to chase after his other dreams. I don’t know. It’s a lot to process and I’m too tired to do that tonight.”Sejin still looked confused, but he didn’t press further. Jin deserved a break. His eyes were heavily lidded with exhaustion from the toll of tonight’s events. The details could wait.“All of you will get through this,” said Sejin.“I don’t know about that.”“When have I ever lied to you?”Jin raised his head to look at Sejin. “You believe Jungkook won’t leave?”Sejin fell into a thoughtful silence. Jin’s question wasn’t fair. Believe was too strong, too absolute a word. No matter how well you know a person or their habits, you never truly know them in their entirety. You will never know the maze they are navigating in their heads, the turns they are taking, the conclusions they have come to, the decisions they feel like they have to make. No one would have believed that Jungkook wanted to leave Bangtan, but look what happened.If Sejin replied Jin with Yes, I believe he won’t leave, he might be giving Jin false hope. However if he said otherwise, he might be subjecting Jin to more misery than necessary.Sejin leaned toward neither answer. “This is not the first time Bangtan had a crisis,” he commented instead.
Plagiarism. Sajaegi. Illegal Marketing. Misogyny. Talks of disbandment. My death.
The list went on. Something bigger than the last was always lying ahead in an ambush. It was as if we were in a game, working toward the showdown with the final boss. Except this was no game and there was no final boss and we would always be fighting.Jin tipped his back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Indeed.”“And yet Bangtan is still around, perhaps a little battered, a little different, but still around.” Sejin’s eye twinkled. “And that’s what I believe in, that come what may, the Bangtan bond will tide you through.”::::::::::The phone call with Jin ended. Hoseok relaxed into the sofa, loosening the grip he had on his phone as he waited for updates from Jin. Next to him, Jimin blew out a shuddering breath, still somewhat shaken. The slight crease between Yoongi’s eyebrows eased. The calm resembled the sort that came before a storm, only particular short-lived.Now that Taehyung’s health no longer demanded his immediate concern, Jimin narrowed his eyes at Jungkook, who stood at the far end, his back against the balcony sliding doors because that was the maximum distance he could put between the others and himself.“Does that change your mind?” Jimin demanded.Jungkook hadn’t sat down since the paramedics came and whisked Taehyung away. He had barely moved at all, still nervous and ashamed and unable to look his hyungs in the eye. He said nothing, but in his silence, his answer rang loud and clear. Anger, confusion and disbelief distorted Jimin’s face.“You gotta be kidding me. You’re still bent on leaving the group?” Jimin gestured wildly. “Taehyung just—““Jimin,” Yoongi shook his head slightly, “Not now. It’s late.”“Let’s go to bed.” Hoseok agreed. He stood up from the sofa and stretched. “We’ll talk about this again. Tomorrow.” He glanced meaningfully at Jungkook, his eyes lacking the warmth they usually had. He was distant, as though Jungkook had just gone from being their prized maknae to being a sore disappointment.Hoseok left the living room. Jimin followed, stomping every step, the lines of his body tense and ready to barrel through anything that dared to get in his way. A door slammed.Yoongi got to his feet too.“Hyung,” Jungkook said just as Yoongi was about to take a step. Jungkook lifted his face, his bloodshot gaze quivering as he looked at Yoongi. “I’m sorry. I really am.”What could Yoongi say in reply to that? He could say It’s okay, but it wasn’t. He could comfort Jungkook with I understand, but no, he didn’t really understand. He could ask why, but Jungkook appeared too distraught to give him satisfactory answers to all his questions. He could guilt trip him, but Jimin had already done a pretty good job of that.So Yoongi only sighed. “Just go to bed, Jungkook.”Yoongi went back to his own room, closing his door quietly behind him, leaving Jungkook alone in the big, cold living room.Jungkook stood there the whole night.
TBC
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The following morning, Jin and Taehyung returned to the dorm after the doctor had given Taehyung the all-clear. The moment Taehyung stepped into the apartment, Hoseok and Jimin pulled him into a hug so fierce that I worried they’d crush his bones.“Let him go,” Yoongi said from the back, “He can’t breathe.”Hoseok and Jimin released Taehyung immediately, their arms springing back to their sides and the horror of last night playing across their faces.“Not the best choice of words,” Jin whistled.“Not the best at all,” Jimin agreed after ascertaining that Taehyung’s chest weren’t heaving. He wasn’t too pleased.“I only meant that figuratively,” Yoongi muttered, avoiding Hoseok’s mildly reproachful eyes.Taehyung shot a look of gratitude at Yoongi, wincing and rubbing his chest theatrically. “Thanks, Hyung. They almost killed me.”Jimin rolled his eyes.Hoseok ruffled Taehyung’s hair affectionately. “I assume that you're feeling much better now that you're cracking jokes.”“Much much better,” Taehyung confirmed, smiling. He was still a little pale, his complexion a shade or two fuller than the healthy tan he usually sported, but a measure of blood had returned to his face.“Are you really?” Jimin asked, peering closely at him, his brows knitted in worry.Taehyung grinned. “I could probably beat you in arm wrestling.”The inside joke had Hoseok sniggering, Yoongi snorting and Jin chuckling. True, Taehyung was bigger and taller than Jimin, but Jimin’s compact stature packed a literal punch. Between the two of them, Jimin always emerged the winner in any contest that involved strength, unless he was in a charitable mood or it was Taehyung’s birthday. Jimin wore that honour like a proud badge of masculinity.Jimin grinned back. “Sure.”I’ll let you win as many times as you want as long as you stay healthy, his brightly curved eyes seemed to say.Taehyung scanned the faces of his welcome entourage. He became crestfallen. “Where’s Jungkook?” He asked.Jimin scowled, the affection on his face giving way to irritation. He opened his mouth to say something, but Yoongi beat him to it.“Probably in his room.”“Thanks!” Taehyung smiled brightly. “I’ll go look for him.”Jimin made to stop Taehyung, but Yoongi held him back by his elbow. When Taehyung slipped out of sight, Jimin turned and frowned at Yoongi, part confused and part betrayed.“Let him go,” Yoongi said as Taehyung’s footfalls faded out of earshot, “he’s probably itching to talk to Jungkook.”“But do you really think it's a good idea for them to talk after what happened last night? What if the same thing happens? Besides he needs rest.” Jimin whipped his head toward Jin and Hoseok, expecting them to agree with him.“We understand your concern, Jimin, but it’s not like Taehyung could rest at ease before he talks to Jungkook,” Jin said. “That was all he could think about on our way back.”Outnumbered by his hyungs, Jimin pulled his elbow free from Yoongi’s fingers, almost sulkily. “Ten minutes,” he said, his gaze resolute. “If he’s not done talking to Jungkook in ten minutes then I’m checking on him.”He turned on his heels and marched away before the rest could argue otherwise.::::::::::Jungkook’s room was tucked away in a corner of the house like an afterthought. Jungkook had staked immediate claim to it when we discussed room distribution the day we moved in. He wanted the privacy, and the distance of the room from the rest of the house suited his nocturnal lifestyle just fine. It was the smallest room, so none of us fought with Jungkook over it.Taehyung approached and pushed the slightly ajar door open.Jungkook was at his computer, its screen showing the same music editing software that I’d frequently used. Sensing movement behind him, Jungkook spun around, startling at the sight of Taehyung. He scrambled to his feet, yanking his headphones down to his neck. The lines of his body froze in indecision, as if caught between escaping the room and sweeping forward to throw his arms around Taehyung.Taehyung took a step over the threshold, just enough to leave the hallway and plant himself in Jungkook’s room.“Hey.” Taehyung gave Jungkook a tiny wave.“Are…are you feeling better?” Jungkook asked, looking at Taehyung carefully.“Yes.” Taehyung smiled lightly as if to prove his point.“I’m sor—““You don’t have to apologise,” Taehyung interrupted. “You don’t have to say that you’re sorry. Not to me. That’s what I came to tell you. You don’t have to feel guilty.”“But it’s my fault that—““No, no, no.” Taehyung shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Not at all. If there’s anyone to blame…” He trailed off. His eyes became distant, as though they were staring at nothing.“Hyung? Hyung.”Taehyung startled and blinked. Focus snapped back into his eyes. He looked awkward. “I-I mean it's not your fault.” Taehyung said again, his lips stretching into the boxy smile that our fandom had come to love. “So don't blame yourself okay?”Jungkook didn't look any more assured than he was a moment ago. They fell silent, though for different reasons from what I could see, with Taehyung searching for the right words and Jungkook not even trying for fear anything he said would lead to a repeat of last night.To one side of Jungkook’s room was the bed and to the opposite was an open closet crowded with black outfits. The in-between strip of space was taken by the computer desk and neat pyramids of dumbbells on the floor. Yet in this small, crammed room, the distance separating Taehyung and Jungkook seemed wider than ever.“Are you really leaving the group?” Taehyung blurted suddenly, the question bursting forth like a sharp intake of breath that could no longer be held back.As though he had seen that coming, Jungkook didn't so much as flinch. He nodded slowly, his expression pained.Taehyung’s eyelashes fluttered in despair. “Would you stay if I — no, we —if we beg you to?”“It's hard, Hyung,” Jungkook whispered and left it at that.Taehyung bit his lower lip. “I'm sorry.”The apology that seemed to have come out of the blue flustered Jungkook. Before he could say anything, Taehyung continued.“I should've known how difficult losing Namjoon Hyung would be for you. I should've noticed how much you're struggling instead of believing the front you've put up for us. We spent so much time together but I was too self-centred to notice anything.”“What? No, don't say that please.”“But if I were a better hyung, maybe you would’ve trusted me enough to come and talk to me and maybe you wouldn't have felt like you need to make that decision.”“Stop, please,” Jungkook begged, “Don't make me feel worse than I already do.”In the small pause of silence that followed, Taehyung seemed to shrink into himself. “Right,” he swallowed thickly, “I can't even do this right.”Horror crossed Jungkook’s face. “That’s not what I—”“It's okay, Jungkook.” Taehyung shook his head. He offered Jungkook a smile. It wasn’t one of those thin-lipped ones born out of passive aggression. It was sincere even though its corners were framed by sadness. “It just means that I have to do better as your hyung.”Jungkook looked frustrated with himself. He pursed his lips shut, as though making up his mind to say for fear that Taehyung would misinterpret his words again.“So, Overwatch?” Taehyung asked, the smile on his face a few degrees wider.Jungkook hesitated.“I could really use some pick-me-up,” Taehyung added.Jungkook didn’t say no.He probably couldn’t.::::::::::The Overwatch game between Taehyung and Jungkook lasted less than fifteen minutes before Jimin came for Taehyung, all acid and barbs.“You should be resting,” he told Taehyung, ignoring Jungkook pointedly. Jimin’s tone was icy enough to let Taehyung know that any disobedience on his end meant setting Jimin off. All of us knew that Jimin’s anger listed in the top three of Taehyung’s all-time fears.“Tomorrow,” Taehyung promised Jungkook right before Jimin pulled him out of the room by his arm.Jungkook sighed in the wake of their departure. He exited the game on his computer and worked on editing his music for a little while more before he decided to give up on that as well. He rose and went to his closet, pulling open the drawers at the bottom and emptied their contents onto his bed — earphones, speakers, a joystick, and other smaller things. He had a lot of things for a room that size.When Jin and Hoseok came to his room an hour later, Jungkook was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his belongings sorted into piles that snaked from the bed to the floor like a breadcrumb trail. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Jin and Hoseok standing at the door that Jimin and Taehyung had left open, and his hand paused mid-sort over a stack of photographs. His head snapped up like that of a child caught in wrongdoing.Jin’s and Hoseok’s eyes trailed over the detritus on the floor. Hoseok’s lips pinched into a tight line. It wasn’t difficult to guess what Jungkook was doing, for the last time he did the same was when we were moving places.Hoseok didn’t comment on it. “Can we come in?” He asked.“Uh, sure.” Jungkook got on his knees and shuffled forward to remove the items he’d dumped on computer chair and the edge of the bed, clearing a seating space for them. Jin sat on the bed and Hoseok took the chair, while Jungkook sank back onto the floor, his legs crossed beneath him. The difference in elevation made Jungkook look like an unwitting sinner brought before a panel of judges.“You know why we’re here.” Hoseok knifed straight to the point, doing away with any preamble. “Your explanation last night didn’t cut it. Not even close. So try again today. Tell us what it is that makes you want to leave. Guide us through your process.”I suspected that the members had discussed among themselves who would be the ones to talk to Jungkook. Jimin was emotional, thrown off the axis by the possibility of Bangtan becoming even lesser than whole. Taehyung was left out for obvious reasons. Yoongi could be scary in his silence even when he didn’t intend to be. That left only Jin, who was levelheaded, and Hoseok, who got angry just like any other person but never let it dictate his actions.“I don’t know where to start,” Jungkook mumbled.“Better start trying,” Hoseok said.“We’re not going to judge you,” Jin said, his voice gentler than Hoseok’s but firm nonetheless. “We just need to know what’s going on in that head of yours before we know what to do.”For some reason, a montage of memories flared across my mind, displaying all the times we, the hyungs, tried to convince Jungkook why mixing orange juice with coke or putting a peel-off mask over the brows weren’t the best ideas, only to have him do them anyway just to prove us wrong. I realised that the bratty, playful Jungkook was gone. The Jungkook before me was subdued, with an air of obedience that was born out of shame and guilt. His decision had changed him before it changed the group.“I don’t like what I’m doing anymore,” Jungkook said softly.Hoseok’s face darkened, no doubt feeling like Jungkook was still taking them for a ride. Jin cut in before Hoseok’s temper could flare.“Jungkook,” the name was spoken with a heaviness, “people don’t just wake up one day feeling like that about something they have been passionate about their whole life.”“But that’s the truth.” Jungkook lifted his face, the desperation darting in his eyes, begging to be believed. “Nothing I do seems good enough anymore. I tried to work on some music the other day and I got stuck and I wanted to ask Namjoon Hyung only to realise that he…” His voice splintered. “That he isn't around anymore. Not just music but… everything. I’m lost and I don’t want to continue doing this knowing that I’m subpar because Bangtan and Army deserve more than that.”Jin’s face had softened with understanding and sympathy, but Hoseok’s was inscrutable.“How many people are there in Bangtan?” Hoseok asked. “Including Namjoon,” he added when Jungkook was stunned by his question.Jungkook looked uncertain, as though unsure if Hoseok was asking a trick question. “Seven,” he said.“Right.” Hoseok nodded. “Seven.” He leaned forward, pinning Jungkook with a grim and unamused gaze. “So why are you behaving like there are only two? Like Namjoon and you were the only ones that matter?”Jungkook flinched like Hoseok had just flung a tight slap across his face. Hoseok didn’t deliver those words with the intention to hurt, because that wouldn’t be Hoseok. But the words cut deep all the same in their ruthless truth.“Your admiration of Namjoon is valid. Your struggles now that he’s gone are valid too,” Hoseok said evenly. “But what you’ve just said disrespected the rest of us in one fell swoop. You said needed help with your music. The help we could give probably wouldn’t be the same as what Namjoon could, but you know we’ll help you. We always did. You said you’re lost, but we would’ve given everything to help you find your way if only you’d ask. But you didn’t. You just assumed that we wouldn’t be able to help and that’s what hurts me the most.”Jungkook lowered his chin. As he did so, a tear escaped his eye and landed on his khaki shorts in a tiny splatter. If there was anything Jungkook hated more than seeing his hyungs hurt, it was seeing them being hurt by him.“Jungkook,” Jin said, “losing Namjoon is hard for all of us. It may not seem like it at the moment, but I promise you that it’ll get easier. You’ll be better. Just hold on a little longer.”“I can’t.” Jungkook shook his head, and a few more teardrops darkened the fabric of his shorts. “I thought the same too, Hyung, but it’s only getting worse. I imagined standing on a stage without Namjoon Hyung and knowing that I won’t see him no matter how far I cast my sight scares me so much.”Hoseok exhaled, not out of frustration or exasperation, but rather the resignation that he was fighting a losing battle with Jungkook’s stubbornness. “I guess you already know this and have taken it into account when you made your decision, but we’ll still say this because it has to be said: You’re important to us and we want you to stay. Your leaving will change a lot of things. It’ll be another blow to our group. I’ll just leave it at that. Hyung, anything else to add?” Hoseok looked at Jin.“As much as it tears us apart to have to see you leave, we won’t force you to stay,” Jin said. “We often treat you like our baby but the truth is you’re an adult who can make his own decisions. And whatever decision you make, I’ll still love you like my little brother.”Tears are now flowing freely down Jungkook’s cheeks. Hoseok’s face had softened.“Ja,” Jin slapped his thighs with a finality that signalled the end of the conversation. He got to his feet and planted a hand on Jungkook’s head to give it a rough ruffle. “I’m going to make lunch. And Jungkook, don’t even think of getting out of it. You’re joining us.”::::::::::“I don’t understand,” Taehyung mumbled like a confused who had woken up in the middle of the night to find that the world had rearranged itself.After an insipid lunch, Jungkook’d escaped back to the sanctuary of his own room. The rest gathered in Hoseok and Jimin’s room, and Jin had just finished relaying the earlier conversation he and Hoseok’d had with Jungkook.“Neither do I,” Hoseok admitted.“Jungkook’s not like that,” Taehyung said almost stubbornly. He was sitting on the only couch in the room, sandwiched on either side by Jin and Jimin. The other members were keeping a discreet eye on him, ready to steer the conversation to safer waters the moment he showed any signs of discomfort.“Maybe grief just brought out the side of him we never knew before,” Yoongi said from his spot by the door. “Grief does that to people.”“Not to mention that Namjoon was the reason why he joined Bangtan,”Jin added.“But we spent eight years with him,” Jimin said angrily. “That has to count for something.”“Will Jungkook change his mind?” Taehyung asked.Jin hesitated. In the end he decided to opt for the truth instead of offering foolish hope. “I don’t know,” he said heavily, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder and offering comfort for the younger’s distress. “He must be pretty determined for him to have acted on his decision.”Jimin raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “So what do we do now?”“He still has about five days before he has to get back to Bang PD,” Hoseok said after a quick calculation. “We will…I don’t know, spend as much time with him as possible and hope that he’ll change his mind. If he doesn’t…” Hoseok sighed, “Then at least we’ll have our last few memories with him as a member of Bangtan.”::::::::::In the next few days that followed, the rest of the members didn't broach Jungkook’s imminent departure, at least not in front of Jungkook. They didn’t tell Jungkook like “Please, we need you to stay,” “You can't just leave like this,” “What about your promises to the group?”. For the time being, Jin and Hoseok had already said to Jungkook what needed to be said.To the untrained eye, life in the apartment went on as usual, but the dynamics had morphed. Hoseok’d said that they should spend as much time with Jungkook as possible, and most of the members took that to heart. Every day, Jin cooked all three meals and expected everyone to be there for all of it, including Jungkook, who had become increasingly quiet and distant. At the dining table, Hoseok coaxed Jungkook into conversations. Yoongi spent more time at home than at the studio, and even more in the living room than in his own bedroom, sitting quietly in the background as Taehyung and Jungkook battled it out on the game console.That afternoon Yoongi was doing exactly just that. He watched in amusement as Jungkook’s fighter delivered an uppercut to Taehyung’s knight, sending the latter into the air.Taehyung groaned as his knight plummeted like a rag doll and a gaudy K.O. flashed on his side of the screen.“I win again,” Jungkook said. He was smiling, even though the smile left the sadness in his eyes untouchedI knew Jungkook well enough to know that these days, he wanted nothing more than to be left alone and fade away. Despite so, he went along with his hyungs, never saying no to their invitations. He tried his best to fulfil their unspoken expectations of him, as if he didn’t want to disappoint them more than he had, more than he eventually would.“Another round,” Taehyung straightened his posture in determination.Taehyung and Jungkook were selecting new characters for the next round when Jimin walked into the living room. His preferred home-wear of threadbare T-shirt and shorts had been traded for a button-down shirt and slacks.“C’mon Tae, it’s time to go,” Jimin said.At Jimin’s voice, Jungkook stiffened. On the sofa, Yoongi narrowed his eyes.Taehyung glanced at Jimin, then at the clock. “Ten more minutes? Just one more game.”“And that means twenty minutes when it comes to you. We’ll be late for the movie.”“The beginning of movies are not that interesting anyway.” Taehyung had his attention back on the TV, oblivious to the edge in Jimin’s voice and the dipping corners of his lips.“Tae Hyung, we can continue when you return,” Jungkook said good-naturedly, casting a quick look at Jimin.Jimin didn’t so much as spare Jungkook a glance, behaving as though Jungkook hadn’t spoken. “You—““As a matter of fact,” Yoongi interrupted, rising from the sofa, “you two can have another game. Jimin, a word please.”Jimin looked nonplussed. “What—““It won’t take long.” Yoongi padded away, and Jimin could only follow, somewhat grudgingly.They entered the nearest room, which happened to be Yoongi’s.“What is it?” Jimin asked as soon as the door closed.Yoongi levelled his eyes on Jimin. “You need to stop doing that.”Jimin frowned. “What are you talking about?”“Trying to separate Taehyung and Jungkook.”Jimin folded his arms across his chest, the line of his jaw pulling tight in defensiveness. “I don’t know what you mean.”Through the wood of the door, the muffled pooms and pows of Taehyung and Jungkook’s ongoing match bled through. The comical sounds did little to ease the thickening tension in the room.“Yesterday you forced Taehyung to stop playing his game with Jungkook by threatening a temper, fully knowing well that Taehyung wouldn’t be able to say no to you when you’re in that mood. This morning you made sure that they weren’t sitting next to each other at breakfast and saw to it that Taehyung couldn’t hold a conversation with Jungkook. Now you chose to take Taehyung out for a movie when you’re not someone for movies and that could’ve waited. Then there are all the times you whisked Taehyung away just as he was about to approach Jungkook. Do you need more examples?”That was the quiet ones in the group for you. You never knew how much they were observing.Jimin’s hands curled into fists. “So what if I am trying to keep them apart? You saw how Taehyung was the other night and it’s all because of Jungkook.” The mention of Jungkook’s name turned Jimin’s voice bitter. “I don’t want the same thing to happen ever again.”“Taehyung has gotten better. Even he himself has said that it might be a one-off incident.”“Might be. Which means that there’s a possibility that it will happen again and I won’t risk it,” Jimin said, serious.“Your protectiveness of Taehyung has always been warm and touching, but now it just sounds to me like a convenient excuse for your actions.”Jimin looked at Yoongi sharply. “What do you mean?”Yoongi smiled ruefully. “Jimin, you're talking to someone who has spent enough time stewing in anger and resentment to recognize them when he sees them. You’re angry with Jungkook. No, you’re furious.”Jimin was the sweetest member of Bangtan, the one whom most of us chose when asked “If you had a younger sister, who in the group would you introduce her to?” He was caring and meticulous. But in the far and few between times he got truly angry, he didn’t move on that easily and quickly. His anger would fester, simmer and leak into his actions, transforming him without him realising it. Like now.Jimin tilted his chin defiantly. “Don’t tell me you’re not.”“I’m not,” Yoongi said matter-of-factly.Jimin drew back, surprised. Then annoyance crossed his features. “Then forgive me for not being a saint,” he gritted out. He reached for the door knob, but Yoongi blocked his way. “Do we really need to talk about this now?” Jimin asked impatiently.“Why do you think Jungkook wants to leave?” Yoongi asked instead.“How would I know?” Jimin snapped. “I ask myself the same question every day and I still don’t understand how he came to that decision, not even after Jin Hyung tried to explain it to us. He never complained no matter how hard he had it going, he took everything in his stride and gave back more, and he loved us more than any other maknaes love their hyungs. At least I thought he did.”Tears glimmered in Jimin’s eyes. Now that the layer of anger had been peeled away, Jimin looked hurt and confused. Out of the seven of us, Jimin was the one who couldn’t bear the thought of a disbanded Bangtan the most. We knew that a day would come where we would leave the nucleus of Bangtan and head in seven different directions, walking further and further from each other as our goals and destinations diverged. Jimin knew it too, but he loved the group so much that whenever he was asked what his wish was, whether in an interview or on his birthday, he would always, always say, “I want the seven of us to be together forever”, as if saying that enough times would delay the inevitable. Now, Jungkook’s decision must have seem to him like a betrayal of all the times he had made the same wish.“Exactly.” Yoongi’s face became gentle. “If Jungkook is everything that you said he is — and I have no doubt that he still is — do you think he made the decision lightly? Do you think that guilt is not wrecking him raw?”Jimin lifted an arm and swabbed his eyes on his sleeve. “He wouldn’t have to be wrecked by guilt if he’d just take back his decision.”Yoongi shook his head. “It may seem like he has a choice, but maybe he really doesn't. If his guilt toward us hurts less than being in Bangtan, can you imagine what he’s struggling with?”Jimin fell silent, staring at the floor.“Jimin?”“I’ve never thought of it that way,” Jimin whispered, “I only wanted to hurt Jungkook, more than he has hurt us.”“I know, but you don’t have to do that. He’s already doing a pretty good job at hurting himself.”Another pause of silence, and a corner of Jimin’s lips lifted in self-deprecation. “I’m such a terrible person, aren’t I?”“No,” Yoongi said. “Your reaction is terrible, but not you. You were angry. Perhaps you still are. But Jiminie, anger is a nasty place. It doesn't suit you. Don’t dwell there.”
TBC
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That night after Yoongi spoke to Jimin, the members stayed up late, though the two events were only tenuously related. After dinner, Taehyung’d boisterously called for a game of Monopoly, a suggestion that was received with enthusiasm (Jin and Hoseok), the complete lack thereof (Yoongi) or general distractedness (Jimin and Jungkook). It didn't matter. All of them ended up playing anyway. The game came to an end two hours later with Jin as the winner.The night didn’t end there, much to, I suspect, Yoongi’s dismay. Taehyung suggested Clue next and, when Clue was done, Halli Galli. Taehyung brimmed with an energy and exuberance that I hadn’t seen in years. Fans had accused him of changing since his debut days. They weren't wrong. Living under the spotlight and tasting the ugly sides of success had kneaded into Taehyung a quiet maturity, thoughtfulness, and a shade of weariness that were missing from his teenage years.Watching Taehyung tonight, though, felt like a taking a trip down a time tunnel. He was as loud, bubbly and inexhaustible as he used to be, buzzing with an intensity that the rest of us had once found it difficult to keep up with. It was an act. That much was obvious. There was an urgency hardly ever seen in his free-spirited demeanour, as if he was desperate to create as many happy memories with Jungkook as he could so that Jungkook might actually be convinced to stay. The hyungs were much calmer, but none of them stopped Taehyung. They went along with the younger’s frenetic flow, perhaps thinking that even if Taehyung’s tactic didn't work, they would at least have spent time with Jungkook. With all the things that’d happened, all of them knew a thing or two about regret.They had delivered fried chicken and beer for supper after all games were done. By the end of supper, Taehyung could no longer fight the onslaught of drowsiness brought about by the heft in his stomach. He yawned and his eyes drooped, and so Hoseok announced in no uncertain terms that the night was over and ordered him to go to bed. Taehyung trudged reluctantly back to his room. The moment he dropped onto the bed, he fell asleep.The rest of the members went back to their rooms shortly after. A stillness draped over the house and painted the illusion that its habitants had retreated into slumberland. Just an illusion, because soon Jungkook’d surface again, padding soundlessly into the living room where he’d once again sit till dawn, making the rounds of his hyungs’ room for reasons that were still unfathomable to me. For two weeks now, Jungkook hadn't slept for more than a restless wink or two each night.Sure enough, the door to his room opened. Tonight, however, a surprise awaited Jungkook. He startled, his shoulders jerking and his feet taking an automatic step back. Jimin was right outside his room, his hand raised and about to deliver a knock before the door swung open.Both of them froze like deers caught in headlight. Jimin’s hand fell awkwardly back to his side.“Hyung?” Jungkook said weakly.Jimin regained his composure quickly. “I saw that the light in your room is still on. Want to walk off the chicken together? I can’t sleep with my stomach so full.” His voice was friendly, absent of any clipped edges.Jungkook didn't respond immediately. He studied Jimin’s face with a slight pinch of confusion between his brows, like he couldn't quite understand why Jimin was being nice to him.The truth was, Jimin wasn't angry with Jungkook anymore. At least I believe he wasn't. He’d been stealing glances at Jungkook all night, between his turns at the games and then more boldly at supper. It wasn't with seething menace that he’d looked at Jungkook. Instead his eyes were framed by a sadness that came with watching someone you cared deeply about suffering in ways you couldn't help. Jungkook didn't notice Jimin’s glances. He’d been too busy avoiding eye contact with everyone.I didn't know if Jimin now fully understood why Jungkook wanted to leave. Maybe he had it figured out, maybe he hadn't. That was not important. You didn't have to understand someone’s actions to love them.“So?” Jimin asked.“Er…sure.” Jungkook tore his eyes away from Jimin, embarrassed that he’d stared. “I'll just get my hoodie.”They headed down and took a walk within the boundaries of the apartment complex, strolling along a pebbled path lit from either side by orange footlights. Now that summer was coming to an end, the night held a comfortable chill. No other soul was about at this hour but, out of habit, Jungkook had his hood pulled up and Jimin had his cap tipped low.The path led them to the man-made stream, a feature that was permanently advertised on the apartment complex’s website and catalogs to further entice prospective buyers. As Jimin and Jungkook stepped onto the flat wooden bridge that zigzagged through the stream, Jimin broke the silence.“Are you really going to be a pro-gamer after you leave Bangtan?”Jungkook smoothed his hand somewhat nervously down the side of his leg. “I guess. Maybe I'll do video editing. I haven’t really decided.”“You’ll be good at either. You’ve always been good at everything.” Jimin stopped at the edge of the bridge and peered into the water where koi were peacefully gliding within. “But have you considered staying with the company? Not as a member of Bangtan but as a staff? You could help us with our choreography.”Jimin spoke as though the topic at hand was as trivial as tomorrow’s weather, but I understood him well enough to know that he was only feigning light-heartedness. Standing a step behind him, Jungkook didn’t reply.Jimin cast a brief glance at Jungkook over his shoulder. “No?”“I’m sorry, Hyung.” Jungkook’s voice was no louder than a whisper that could be mistaken as leaves rustling from a breeze, but it carried every bit of the guilt that must be tearing him apart from the inside.“I already knew that’d be your answer, but it was still well worth a shot to ask.” Jimin shrugged and shot Jungkook a small grin in the dim light. “I figured that you needed distance from anything that reminded you of Namjoon Hyung. Unfortunately that includes us.”“I’m weak.”Jimin shook his head. “I don’t think you are.” As he turned away from Jungkook to redirect his attention back on the fishes, any trace of a smile left his lips and his shoulders sank a minuscule fraction. Still, he kept up with his act in the way he spoke, clutching a tight rein over his sadness and keeping his voice casual, gentle even. “Hoseok Hyung said that people have different ways of dealing with grief. Maybe leaving Bangtan is the way for you.”“I tried, Hyung. I—““I know, I know,” Jimin appeased before Jungkook could get frantic. “You wouldn’t leave Bangtan unless you had no other choice. I understand that and I’m not blaming you. Not anymore. I just wish that there are some ways I could help.”Jimin squatted down and dipped one hand into the water. A pair of fishes shimmied to the surface to nib at his fingers. “Times like these I really miss Namjoon Hyung more than ever. With his intelligence and compassion he’d know what you need.”The faith that my members had in me was equal parts flattering and frustrating. Flattering because they trusted me enough to seek me out when they had a problem to be solved. Frustrating because I wasn’t as insightful and all-knowing as they thought I was. Because if I were, I’d have already known how to use all the five wishes I was given and help them move on. I hated that they have to struggle before I knew how to help.“Say,” Jimin said, “with the rate technology is developing, why hasn’t anyone come up with a way for us to FaceTime the dead?”“Maybe someone has but chooses to keep it under wrap because the whole idea of cherishing the people around you would lose its meaning if death didn’t mean the end,” Jungkook mumbled as though to himself, scuffing his heel against the wooden slats of the bridge.Jimin blinked at Jungkook in surprise. “That’s deep.”Jungkook scrunched his nose. “I sometimes discussed stuff like this with Namjoon Hyung.”I remembered. Those discussions had usually taken place in my studio. Jungkook would be sitting on the sofa hugging a cushion, and I would be at the computer working on my music while he took a break from his own. Those conversations never lasted long because Jungkook was not a very philosophical person to begin with, and I tend to bore him with thoughts that were too abstract.“Just the right person to hold that sort of discussions with. I can’t imagine you doing so with Jin Hyung.” Jimin laughed genuinely, his eyes curving into shining crescents.Jungkook managed a slight smile, even though the discomfiture and uneasiness that had tailed him the past few days was still present. He stepped forward and fell into place next to Jimin, watching as the older boy moved his hand through the water in swirling patterns. The fishes followed Jimin’s lead, their tails swashing rapidly to keep up.“Jungkook, all the things you said you’re going to do after Bangtan…” Jimin began thoughtfully, “Will you be happy doing them?”Jungkook was quiet for a long moment.“I don’t think I deserve to be happy,” he said eventually. His hands were buried into the pockets of his hoodies. I imagined they had tightened into fists.Jimin raised his head and looked at Jungkook from under the bill of his cap. “Of course you do. Just as much as anyone else.” He paused, then added with an impish smirk. “Maybe less than Taehyung, but that's because he's my best friend.”This time, Jungkook didn’t smile at Jimin’s attempt to lighten the mood. “You should be angry with me, Hyung.”“I was.”“You should still be. I deserve it.”Jimin snorted. He removed his hand from the stream and flicked his wrist a few times, sending droplets of water flying. “I don't know how easy you think it is to be mad at someone, but anger really sucks your soul away. So spare me and let me live up to my fairy nickname.” He wiped his hands dry on his shorts as he stood up. “And it's not like my anger is going to make you change your mind, so why waste my energy?”Jungkook stiffened. Jimin noticed and realised how dismissive he must have sounded.“That came out harsher than I thought it would,” Jimin said, wincing. “I’m just joking and I got careless with my words.” He hesitated. “Actually the truth is I got a good dressing down from Yoongi Hyung just now. He wasn’t too pleased with how I’ve been treating you the past few days.”Jungkook’s eyes widened.“I thought it was obvious,” Jimin chuckled.“He shouldn’t have,“ said Jungkook. If possible, he looked guiltier. “You have every right to be mad at me.”“But I’m glad that he did. He made me see past my own anger and realise how much you’re suffering. Every moment that you’re in the dorm, every moment that you’re in Bangtan, every moment that you’re with us…” Jimin’s voice cracked, “They hurt you, don’t they?”Jungkook bowed his head deeper, shrouding his face in a shadow.“You know, I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that you’re going to leave Bangtan, but I’m still holding out a flicker of hope that you won’t. Namjoon Hyung is why you joined Bangtan, but I want us to be reason enough for you to stay. But more than that I want you to be happy, even if it’s without us. So, Jungkook, look at me and tell me that you are going to be.”Jungkook didn’t. He couldn’t. He kept his head low to hide the tears that were trickling down his face. Still, the way Jungkook’s shoulders shook was telling. Jimin pulled Jungkook into his arms and began to rock the youngest to a comforting rhythm, all the while patting the small of his back.“Now you’re going to make me cry too,” Jimin sighed, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know asking you to be happy sounds like a tall order after everything that’s happened. But promise me that you will be.” His arms wound tighter around Jungkook’s shoulders. “You have to be, because that’s the only way to make it easier for us to let you go.”
TBC
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It was only natural that everyone held out the hope that Jungkook’d continue with the group. The hope manifested in different ways. For the hyung line, their hope was quiet, the kind that belonged to people who’d prepared themselves to accept any outcome, whether good or bad. Because of that, they were calm. It was the same for Jimin. No longer crackling with anger, he returned to being a solid pillar of support for Jungkook while giving the youngest as much space as he needed to sort out his thoughts.On the other hand, Taehyung worried me. Unlike the others, he burned with desperation. Every day he had at least one activity planned for the group: a fishing trip to the countryside, a workshop at a glassblowing factory, a sing-off at the nearby karaoke. The rest went along with him without a word of complaint. When they were together, Taehyung smiled the hardest and laughed the loudest, but the strain that wobbled his lips didn’t escape me. He was trying his best to band the group together in a last-ditch effort to convince Jungkook that, despite the pain now, staying in Bangtan would be worth it in the end. I understand why he felt the need to do that, but I feared what awaited him was crushing disappointment. Jungkook hadn’t shown any indication that he’d change his mind.One evening, after all of them returned from the bowling alley, Jin made jjimdak and called the rest for dinner. They gathered at the dining table and passed cutlery around. Jin was asking Taehyung if he’d washed his hands, and Hoseok was telling an awestruck Jimin about the gleaming Maserati he’d spotted in the car park. As far as dinners went after my death, this one seemed pretty normal.That was until Jungkook spoke right when the rest were about to dig in.“Hyung…”Conversations halted. Gazes converged upon the youngest. Yoongi stopped massaging his sore shoulder. Jungkook initiating a conversation was so rare an occurrence these days that everyone was taken by surprise.Jungkook’s eyes darted across his hyungs’ attentive faces as if to show some measure of respect, then landed back on his steaming bowl of rice.“Bang PD… he…” He began, then paused like he was rallying his courage. “He called me just now. He wants to talk to me tomorrow a-about my decision.”The air in the room stilled as though a bell jar had descended and trapped the members in a vacuum. However no one looked shocked for they had seen it coming.In many ways, Bang PD was a fatherly figure to us. He groomed us with patience, allowed us to create the music we wanted, respected our freedom as long as it didn’t jeopardise Bangtan. But he was also a businessman. If Jungkook left the group, stocks would nosedive. To minimise damage to Big Hit, a contingency plan needed to be in place before an official statement was released, which meant that Jungkook couldn’t leave the company hanging in his indecision. It’d be worse if someone leaked the news and caught the company off-guard. Bang PD had already given Jungkook more than a week to rethink his decision. That was as far as his generosity could go.Taehyung found his voice first.“H-have you…A-are you…” He sounded nervous.When Jungkook made to speak, but Taehyung abruptly held up a hand.“Wait, don’t answer. I don’t want to hear it.” Taehyung forced a smile when Jungkook’s face fell. “Just let me assume for one last night that you’re not leaving, okay?”Jungkook’s shoulders hunched. He looked like he wished the ground would split apart and swallow him.“Jungkook.” Hoseok waited for Jungkook to lift his head and lock eyes with him. When the younger did, he said, firmly and sincerely, “I believe in you.”“And I’ll still love you no matter what decision you make.” Jin added.Next to him, Jimin nodded, kind eyes twinkling. “And I still mean what I said the other night.”Then all eyes fell on Yoongi as everyone else expected him to say something. He only shrugged, picked up his chopsticks with a metallic click and said, “Let’s dig in, shall we?”Jin rolled his eyes. “Would it kill you not be so emotionally constipated for once?”Hoseok and Jimin laughed, but Yoongi ignored all of them. With his chopsticks, he stabbed a chunk of chicken and transferred it onto Jungkook’s bowl. “You get the biggest piece for being the most well-behaved today.” He said, pretending not to see the wetness in Jungkook’s eyes.And that was what dinner that night became — a pretense. They talked on and off about unimportant things. They ladled food into their bowls and snorted at Jin’s jokes. They used their phones in moments of distraction. They behaved as they normally would, pretending that tonight was just like any other night for fear that if they didn't, they’d be jinxing what'd happen tomorrow.Still, cracks in their act showed. Jungkook swiped his knuckles against his wet eyes when he thought nobody was watching. Taehyung looked like swallowing demanded all his energy. Jin and Jimin got up a few times to fetch extra condiments or refill their glasses, the smiles on their faces faltering the moment they turned away from others.That night Taehyung didn’t suggest a post-dinner game. It seemed like he only wanted to go back to his own room. It seemed like everyone wanted the same too, so that was what they did. Before returning to his room, Taehyung stopped Jungkook and wrapped him in a hug that lasted all of ten seconds. When they pulled apart, Taehyung looked like he was struggling for something to say. But in the end, he only gave Jungkook a final pat on the shoulder and turned away. From the kitchen threshold, Jimin saw everything.Later that night, Jimin went to Taehyung’s room. Taehyung was lying flat on the bed, his wide eyes glued to the ceiling.“Taehyung-ah, are you okay?”Taehyung didn't look like he was. He looked lost. The bubbly front he'd put on before the rest had slid off, revealing his exhaustion beneath.As idols, part of our job was to always show the vibrant parts of ourselves when the camera’s rolling, no matter how we felt on the inside. Out of all of us, Taehyung was the worst at putting on a mask. With him, there was little deceit. He pouted when he lost a game. He zoned out when he was bored. He glowed and gushed when he was fascinated. I'd always suspected that it was this childlike openness that drew people to him.My point was, Taehyung wasn't the best at pretending. Yet, for the sake of the group, pretending was what he'd been doing for the past few days.“I don't know,” Taehyung mumbled without tearing his gaze away from the ceiling. “My chest hurts.”The words had an electric effect on Jimin. He bolted to Taehyung’s side in a flash and crouched over Taehyung. “Is it here again? Should I get Jin Hyung? Can you breathe? Should I get the ambulance?”Taehyung blinked slowly at Jimin, as if he'd just become aware of Jimin’s presence. “What are you talking about?”Jimin stared at Taehyung in a frozen moment of confusion. Then he drew himself back a little and trailed his eyes over Taehyung. Taehyung’s face wasn't losing color like the other night. His chest weren't heaving and his lips weren't quivering.Relief washed away the tension that'd wound Jimin tight as a spring. Then he got annoyed.“Don't scare me like that,” Jimin huffed. “I thought you were going to have another attack.” When Taehyung still looked confused, Jimin added impatiently, “You said that your chest hurt.”“Oh.” Taehyung grinned sheepishly when he finally understood. “Did I really say that? I'm sorry. I was just… just thinking a lot about things.” The smile on his face faded.Jimin didn't have to ask. The thing that troubled Taehyung was the same keeping everyone else up that night. Jimin sighed.“Move over,” he ordered.Taehyung scooted closer to the wall. Jimin climbed into the space next to Taehyung and stretched himself out, crossing his ankles and sliding an arm under his own head.“Let’s talk,” Jimin said.“About?”“Whatever’s making your chest hurt.”Taehyung hesitated. His eyes became sadder. “I don't know…I guess I'm just scared of tomorrow. I don't think I've ever been this scared.”“Not even that time we had to do bungee jump?”“I’d do that a thousand times over if it meant that Jungkookie won't…that he won't…” Taehyung couldn't bring himself to finish his words.“What wouldn't we do for that to be true? I’d catch the flu a million times for him.”“Jiminie,” Taehyung turned his head to look at Jimin. “Do you think I've done enough to convince Jungkook to stay?”The worry and plea on Taehyung’s face were so raw that something in me knotted tightly. Jimin studied Taehyung for a moment, as though trying to figure his best friend out.A displeased frown deepened between Jimin’s brows. “This better not be what I think it is.”Taehyung shifted uneasily. “I just don’t think I can forgive myself if there was something more I could’ve done but didn’t.”Jimin rose on an elbow, incredulous.“Of course you can’t forgive yourself because there’s nothing that needs forgiving.”Taehyung darted his eyes away from Jimin, clearly unconvinced. Jimin’s jawline tensed.“Look at me and listen well, Kim Taehyung.”The force in Jimin’s voice brooked no argument. Taehyung obeyed reluctantly. His eyes seemed wider and his lashes longer as he tipped his head back a fraction to look up at Jimin.Jimin began slowly, carefully enunciating every word. “Whatever decision Jungkook makes tomorrow is not your problem. If he decides to stay, it is not because he is swayed by what you have done. You are not that powerful and you are not taking any credit for it.”Taehyung shot into sitting, nearly head-butting Jimin in the nose had Jimin not dodged. “I don’t want any credit!”“Good. So if Jungkook decides to leave, it’s not your fault either. I won’t allow you to beat yourself up thinking about all the things you think you could have done. Don't make it your responsibility. I forbid it. Are we clear on that?”Taehyung looked at Jimin with a wounded expression. Jimin showed no intention of apologising. His words were harsh, but they were also necessary to prevent Taehyung from falling victim to all the self-destructive could-have-beens.Eventually Taehyung deflated, his shoulders slumping. He fell back onto the bed and turned onto his side, leaving Jimin with a view of his back.“You still haven’t answered my question,” Jimin said, irritation creeping back into his tone.Taehyung pulled his Tata cushion close to his chest and cinched his arms tight around it.“I wish that was the case.” The cushion muffled Taehyung’s voice.Here was the thing about Taehyung: he was not the best with words; neither did he follow the usual trajectory the average person would take in a conversation. Ask him ‘Why does Yeontan bark at the camera?’ and he might leave you scratching your head by answering ‘I think we should include him in our next album.’ After so many years of living together, most of us had gotten quite good at decoding what he really wanted to say. But there were still occasions where he baffled us, like now.“You wish what was the case?” Jimin asked.“Nothing.”“Don’t ‘nothing’ me.”“You’re not my eomma,” Taehyung said petulantly. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”“Joke’s on you because you don’t tell your mum everything. The only person you pour your darkest secrets to is your soulmate. And the last I check, that person is still me.” Jimin peered over Taehyung’s shoulder, but Taehyung only buried his face deeper into the cushion. “C’mon Taetae.”“You’re just going to be mean.”“I promise I won’t.”“You were mean just now.”“You knew I had to be harsh to drive the message home. It was an important message. But okay, I apologise. Is that good enough? Can you forgive me now and tell me what’s bothering you?”Taehyung’s finger picked compulsively at the curved edge of Tata’s sewn brows.“I don’t know how to say it.”“That has never stopped you in the past.”There was long pause. Then Taehyung sighed, an aged and weary sound. “Drop it, Jimin. I really don’t want to talk about it”“Fine.”The springs whined as Jimin plopped back onto the bed with more force than necessary. He crossed his arms over his chest, his lips jutting into a pout.For many minutes, neither of them spoke. If it were with another member, Jimin would’ve left the room already. But when it came to Bangtan’s resident soulmates, quarrels expired quickly. Jimin was waiting for Taehyung to extend the olive branch within the next hour, like the latter always did.Sure enough, Taehyung lifted his face from the cushion, his fringe sticking up in a messy tuft. He twisted his torso to look at Jimin.“Are you really angry at me?”Jimin stared resolutely at the ceiling.Taehyung reached over to tug timidly at Jimin’s sleeve, testing the waters. When Jimin’s lips twitched with the effort of holding back a smile, Taehyung rolled over and sidled close.“Jiminieeeee….” Taehyung snuggled against Jimin’s side like an oversized koala clinging onto a stunted tree. “My angel, my soulmate, my Jiminieeee, please don't ignore me.”Jimin glanced at Taehyung disdainfully. “So I'm your soulmate now?”“Always and forever.” Taehyung grinned good-naturedly.Jimin snorted. “You didn't seem so sure just now.”Taehyung tensed. “That's not true. There are just—”“Just some things that you can't tell me,” Jimin finished, sighing. “I know. I was in the wrong too. You're allowed to have secrets. I shouldn't have been so pushy. But Taehyungie, you know I'm ready to listen when you're ready to talk, right? Just promise me you won't go chasing yourself into a dead end.”Taehyung pressed his face into Jimin’s arm and nodded. “Gomawo.”I wanted to smile and roll my eyes at the same time. The scene before me summarized Jimin and Taehyung’s friendship perfectly — cute, touchy, heartwarming but also somewhat cringeworthy, albeit still in a cute way.They stayed that way for a long time, with Taehyung hugging Jimin’s arm and Jimin letting Taehyung be as he played on his phone with his free hand.Just as I thought Taehyung’d fallen asleep, he spoke again.“Jimin…”“Hmm?”“We won't be the same if Jungkook leaves.”Jimin’s hand stilled over his screen. “We won't.”“I don't think I'll be okay.”“Maybe not at first.”“I may die.”Scoffing playfully, Jimin set his phone aside and shifted so that he could fold Taehyung into his arms. He tucked his chin on top of Taehyung’s head and nuzzled his nose into Taehyung’s hair.“As if I'll let you.”::::::::::That night Jungkook stuck to his own room instead of staying up in the living room. He didn’t make his usual rounds of his hyungs’ rooms. No one was going to be able to sleep that night, and it'd be awkward for Jungkook to crack open a door and find whoever was on the other side as awake as he was. He'd have to fumble for an excuse. He might be forced into a conversation, which I suspected scared him more than anything at the moment.But Life is hardly that accommodating. It often ignores your fears and presents you the very situations that you've been taking utmost care to avoid.At some point in the middle of the night, Jungkook left his room. He just taken a step into the kitchen when he drew up short and froze.There Yoongi was, illuminated by the pearly light of the open fridge in the otherwise dark kitchen. He lifted his head at Jungkook’s presence. In his hand was a protein bar he'd just retrieved from one of the fridge’s side compartments.“Getting a drink?” Yoongi asked.Jungkook nodded mutely.Yoongi closed the fridge and tossed the protein bar onto the counter. He went to the sink, took a glass from the drying rack and filled it with water from the tap. Without a word, he handed the glass to Jungkook.“T-thanks.”Yoongi nodded to show that he'd heard. As Jungkook guzzled the water stiffly, Yoongi turned to lean against the counter. He was about to tear open the packaging of his protein bar when he stopped. A look of contemplation came over his face.When Jungkook emptied the glass, Yoongi spoke.“Since you're still awake, what do you say to some lamb skewers for supper?”:::::::::::Business was slow at the restaurant at three in the morning.A bored waiter stopped a cart by Yoongi and Jungkook’s booth and proceeded to unload a platter of skewers, a basket of lettuce, a few saucers of banchan and two mugs of beer onto the table. He twisted the grill knob to turn on the flames and rolled the cart away after uttering a soulless masitkke deuseyo. Beyond music, Yoongi and Jungkook didn't have much in common except their love for lamb skewers which the rest of us didn't share. We found the taste of lamb too gamey for our liking. We often pondered what the two of them talked about when they went to the restaurant without us. They were quiet people who viewed the world in vastly different ways — Yoongi with skepticism, and Jungkook with intelligent curiosity.Perhaps Yoongi would talk about corruption and capitalism, and Jungkook, his latest headphones purchase. I was certain that there were things they could talk to each other about for them not to mind visiting the restaurant together more than once.Tonight, though, they were quiet as they waited for the grill to heat up. Jungkook kept his gaze down to avoid eye contact with Yoongi, rubbing his hands against his own thighs out of nervous habit. Across from him, Yoongi was a contrasting picture of ease. When the grill was hot enough, Yoongi set the first skewers on it. Wisps of smoke hissed into the air as the heat seared off the moisture on the meat.Supper progressed as eventfully as watching paint dry. Yoongi focused on eating while Jungkook focused on drinking. With every minute that passed, Jungkook became increasingly antsy. Somehow, I knew that Yoongi’d noticed the uneasy glances Jungkook was shooting his way but had chosen to ignore them.Jungkook was two-thirds through his second mug of beer when the alcohol finally sheared away enough of his inhibition for him to blurt out a sudden ‘Hyung’.Yoongi paused mid-chew.Jungkook looked like he wanted to slap himself, but he pressed on. “A-are you not going to ask me what I'm going to tell Bang PD tomorrow?”Yoongi shot Jungkook a questioning look. He chewed some more and swallowed.“Why would I?” Yoongi asked.Jungkook was taken aback. “Isn't that why you asked me out?”“I was hungry,” Yoongi said plainly. Then he looked thoughtful for a brief moment. “But I'm all ears of you want to talk about it.”Jungkook fell silent. He moved the tip of his right index finger against the dark surface of the table, drawing abstract shapes using the condensation that'd formed around the base of his beer mug. Yoongi didn’t push. He placed more skewers onto the grill and turned those that were cooking.“I don’t know what to do,” Jungkook said finally, his whispered confession no louder than the sizzle of the grill. It was the helplessness in his voice that caught the ears. “I was so sure before. But now…now I don’t know anymore. Hyung,” he looked at Yoongi, his eyes desperate for guidance, “should I stay or should I leave?”Yoongi set the metal tongs down.“Why ask me?” He asked in return. “You already weighed all the pro and cons when you went to Bang PD with your decision. The others have also chipped in their two cents in the past week. Whatever I say would only risk repetition.”Jungkook fumbled. “I…I just…I just thought that…”A corner of Yoongi’s lips angled into a dry, contradictory smile. “You thought that I could help?” Yoongi nodded, leaning back into his seat. “Let’s try then. You said you were sure before. What’s swaying you now?”Jungkook scrubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm.“Many things. Hobi Hyung said that my leaving would affect Bangtan a lot. Jimin Hyung wanted me to be happy after he stopped being angry with me, but when I looked back on all the happiest moments in life, I realised that all of them had to do with Bangtan. And then there's Taehyung Hyungie… He’ll be heartbroken.”If Yoongi was sympathetic, he didn't show it.“Hobi was right to say things would change,” he said, “but you already knew that long before you made any decision. Carefully considered it even.” Yoongi’s eyes were cool, almost nonchalant. “I don't know if it'll help you but I’ll say this: True, Bangtan won’t be the same if you leave, but we’ll continue without you. Maybe we won’t thrive, but we’ll manage. We’ll move on in one way or another.”Jungkook swallowed hard. Yoongi’s words had no doubt sliced deep into his skin. But I knew Yoongi hadn't said them out of spite. His words were matter of fact, and facts could hurt because there was no way they could be denied.“I’m glad that Jimin isn’t angry with you anymore,” Yoongi went on, “but I don’t agree with that happiness is what you should aim after, whether with or without Bangtan. Many people become unhappy in their pursuit of happiness. It’s an irony. You could stay in Bangtan with the hope of experiencing those happy moments again, but they are going to be few and far between, if they even pop up at all. More than happiness, I’m more certain that there will be unhappiness. Heck, there’ll be a lot more of it waiting for us now that Namjoon is gone. Once the sympathy fades, the skepticism and questions will roll in. Will our music be any good without our core songwriting member? Will we lose the love of US media without a fluent English speaker? You get the idea. Are you willing to tolerate all these unhappiness for those happy moments that may or may not happen?”Jungkook curled his fingers into his palms, but not before I caught their tremble.“As for Taehyung…” Yoongi sighed lightly. “Don’t stay because you’re afraid of breaking his heart. If you stay for someone other than yourself, you’ll find yourself revisiting this exact predicament someday down the road. I don’t want to see Taehyung going through the same desperation of trying to make you stay again.” A note of warning and protectiveness had kicked into Yoongi’s voice. “I rather you hurt him now than in the future. You will break his heart if you decide to leave tomorrow, but the rest of us will be there to pick up the pieces.”With his shoulders curled in, Jungkook looked more defeated than ever.Yoongi cocked a wry eyebrow. “I don’t help any, do I?”“Are you telling me to leave, Hyung?” Jungkook whispered.On the grill, the edges of some skewers had turned crisp. Yoongi picked up the tongs and transferred those skewers onto their plates.“I’m not. I’m not telling you to stay either. I’m merely giving you the facts. That’s the best I can do. I can’t make your decision for you. Even if I can, I won’t. I’m not Namjoon.”I didn’t see that coming. Neither did Jungkook. His head snapped up, and his eyebrows knitted into a questioning frown.Yoongi levelled his cool eyes with Jungkook’s. “Whenever you run into a problem you can’t solve, who’s the first person that comes to your mind?” Yoongi asked.The question was rhetorical. All three of us knew the answer already.“I sometimes go to Jimin Hyung too,” Jungkook said, almost defensively.“But not for those problems that truly scared you. I’m not saying that it was bad for you to go to Namjoon. You respected him, and he was great at providing advice and solutions. It was only natural that you sought him for help. But was there a time you didn’t follow what he thought you should do?”During the time it took for Jungkook to answer, Yoongi took a long swig of beer.“You think I shouldn’t have followed his advice?”“Not what I’m saying.” Yoongi shook his head as he set the mug back onto the table. “His advice probably worked out for you all the time. But because of that, you’ve come to depend on him. Now that he’s no longer around, things look a lot scarier, don’t they? Who should you turn to now that you have problems? Who can help you the way he could? Who could give you solutions that work every time so that you can continue to be our infallible golden maknae?“Should you stay or should you leave? Maybe that’s not the question you should ask yourself. Maybe you should ask yourself whether you’re ready to grow up and start learning how to solve your own problems. You’ll probably make mistakes and go on a wild goose chase for solutions. But if you’re ready, we, your hyungs, will be with you every step of the way.”::::::::::Jungkook joined Big Hit when he was thirteen. He travelled the 325 kilometers from Busan to Seoul, bidding goodbye to doting parents and a carefree life where his greatest worry was probably whether or not he'd finished his math homework.His life became defined by long hours trapped in sweaty practice rooms. Like other trainees, he attended school in the morning, went to the company in the afternoon, and dragged his tired body back to the dorm when the trainers finally decided to call it a night. Despite his tender age, Jungkook soon became one of Big Hit’s two golden trainees (the other was Hoseok). Jungkook excelled at every idol-related skill — singing, dancing, rapping — and constantly ranked high at the monthly evaluations.In the beginning, I didn't talk much to Jungkook beyond the pleasantries, even though we were housed in the same dorm, and even though it was rumoured that I was the reason he’d rejected the big agencies for Big Hit. Outside practice, his intensity melted away, and he returned to being a shy and withdrawn boy. I wasn't shy like him, but I wasn't much of a talker either. Truth be told, I spent too much time chasing lyrics and melodies in my head to pay much attention to him.Then it changed on one seemingly normal morning where I was scheduled to take the trash out from the dorm. I’d decided to use the stairs down because the elevator was taking too long. I didn't expect to see Jungkook in the stairwell. Much less did I expect to catch him crying. I quietly retreated before he could notice me.For the rest of that day I couldn't concentrate, too ashamed at myself. Jungkook was only thirteen. Being miles away from his family must have strained him. His personality made it difficult for him to make friends too. So why did I believe in his golden trainee status and assumed that he was thriving? His loneliness must have been crippling.Being only three years older than him, I was barely all that mature myself, but I resolved to be a good hyung to him. I wasn't able to draw him out of his shelf the way Taehyung would later be able to do, but I kept a constant eye on him and trained myself to be astute to the changes in his emotions. I reached out to him when I sensed that he was struggling, made him talk to me, guided him out of his troubles.After we debuted, Jungkook went from being a golden trainee to becoming our golden maknae. He never failed to deliver, whether in the studio, on the stage, or at the annual idol athletic meets. He grew stronger and bigger than all of us, losing his chubby cheeks and his adolescent awkwardness. But we never stopped viewing him as the little brother whose happiness and well-being we needed to ensure.All of us interpreted our role as his hyung differently: Jin made him food, Taehyung wrestled with him, Hoseok gave him the largest piece of fried chicken, Jimin stayed up late with him, and Yoongi tolerated his shenanigans more than he would others’. As for me, I continued to watch over him, making sure to intervene before any of his problems could snowball and crush him. Eventually he became comfortable enough to automatically come to me when he needed someone disentangle him from his dilemmas or predicaments.The dynamics between Jungkook and his six hyungs was tender and heartwarming in the eyes of others. One time on a show, Jungkook’d admitted in an unusual moment of sentiment that the six of us was the wind that enabled him to soar higher and higher without any fear. Back then, I was egoistical enough to agree with his words.Now, after what Yoongi had said, I couldn’t bring myself to do the same anymore.Now, I understood that there was an ugly side to all the times I had helped Jungkook solve his problems. Without intending to, I had prevented Jungkook from truly growing because, well, how could a person grow without handling some difficulties on his own?No wonder Jungkook was so afraid now that I was gone.No wonder he subconsciously believed that the only way to handle any future problems was to run away before they sprang upon him.Silly Jungkook.Silly, because I believed he was more than what he gave himself credit for.He didn’t need me. He didn’t need us. He could be the strong, independent man who could handle his problems dauntlessly.He already is that man.I made my third wish.
TBC
::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yoongi and Jungkook left the restaurant. As they stood by the side of the road, a breeze sent fallen leaves eddying around their ankles and scratching along the concrete.They didn’t have to wait long before a cab appeared around the corner. Yoongi raised an arm and the cab cruised to a halt before them. Before he opened the cab door, he considered Jungkook over his shoulder.“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the dorm? It’s still pretty early.”Jungkook shook his head. “I could use a walk.”More than a walk, I knew that Jungkook needed the space to think. Going back to the apartment with its sleepless inhabitants meant subjecting himself to their discretely pleading and anxious eyes. If there was anything that Yoongi had made clear to him, it was that if Jungkook was to stay with Bangtan, it should be for nobody else but himself, and certainly not because of guilt.“If you say so.” Yoongi yawned and popped the door open. “See you later then.”Despite the tinted windows of the cab obscured Yoongi from view, Jungkook waved a goodbye before the cab pulled off. I imagined Yoongi returning the gesture with a mere dip of the chin because, lazy as he was, it was the action that expended the least energy.When the cab’s headlights became distant smudges no larger the size of fingerprints, Jungkook set off down the street, his hood pulled over his head, and his hands jammed deep into his pockets. Light from the street lamps elongated his shadow. I wondered if that provided him with some form of companionship, or if it only highlighted how alone he was.It was now past five in the morning and the surroundings was beginning to stir from its slumber. A handful of trucks trundled along the tarmac road glistening with morning dew. Two or three runners jogged past Jungkook, their breaths particularly loud in the relative quiet of the morning. A little further ahead, an elderly couple was setting up for that day’s business. He stopped to help them unload crates of toasts, eggs and cabbage from their battered truck. The grateful couple wanted to reciprocate his kindness with breakfast on the house, but he politely refused politely and continued on his way.Jungkook stopped every now and then to pet a stray or to snap a picture of the steadily brightening sky. The fresh air, the streets yet cluttered by people, and the absence of recognition seemed to loosen him up. Those were the exact reasons I’d liked going for long walks at unexpected hours myself.By the time his feet eventually brought him to Big Hit, a good hour had gone by. He halted and tilted his head back to take in the blockish building. The sky was a canvas of darker blue interrupted by a jagged streak of burnt orange. The faint smile that had danced on his lips on his way here faded away, replaced by a familiar heaviness.He stood there a little longer, then squared his shoulders the way a knight would before charging into the fray. As he made his way to the side of the building, he scanned his surroundings, a habit he had after a fan had tried to slip in behind him on one occasion. There seemed to be no sasaeng that morning. He held his thumb to the recognition pad beside the staff-only door and entered the building.All of us knew Bang PD’s habits well enough to know that he wouldn’t be in until later in the morning. With plenty of time to kill, Jungkook rode the elevator to the second-highest floor, forgoing the topmost floor where Bang PD’s office was.By the natural light diffusing through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he walked along perimeter of the open-plan office. No one was in. A few of the desktop screens displayed screensavers with lines that twisted and untwisted hypnotically. On the walls were framed posters of Big Hit’s artistes and a couple of bulletin boards feathered with sticky notes.The promotional poster of our most recent concert arrested Jungkook’s steps. I remembered that shoot outdoors. It was one of the rare few where we had been specifically instructed not to pose. The concept was to show each of us in our most natural habitat, doing the things we were most likely to do on our off-days. As a result, the seven of us were scattered. Yoongi lazed in a hammock strung between two trees; I was reading a book on a nearby bench. Taehyung and Jungkook huddled over a shared camera. Jimin and Hoseok tried to fly a kite, while Jin was on a picnic mat with a sandwich basket on one side and RJ faithfully propped on the other.Jungkook’s eyes lingered over the poster. That day after the shoot had wrapped, we had joked that years down the road when we were no longer famous, this was how the seven of us would gather and spend our weekends together.I had never wanted to punch myself more than I did in this moment. I felt like I had broken a promise.Sorry, I said, even though Jungkook wouldn't be able to hear me.He turned away from the poster, his throat moving as though he was swallowing his emotions before they could creep up further and choke him.He gave himself a level-by-level tour of the building. After completing one floor, he would take the stairs down to the next: the sixth-floor with the meeting rooms, the fifth floor that our private studios occupied, the fourth-floor where he bumped into with a yawning producer emerging from one of the recording studios.His steps slowed with nostalgia, and perhaps a hint of reverence, when he got to the third floor. It was where the practice rooms were, and therefore where the seven of us had spent the most time together.Compared to that of bigger entertainment companies, our company building was modest, but it was a testament to how far Big Hit had come since its earliest days. Our practice rooms now had taller ceilings, bigger mirrors and brighter lights. Even in the smallest room, the seven of us could sit in a line, comfortable distance between our shoulders, without coming in contact with the walls. In my mind’s eyes, however, it was our older practice room that I saw: the one with drab grey walls, the one with a flawed company logo because a high kick from Jimin had dislodged the dot above an i, the one that doubled as storage because two rented floors in a mid-size building was all that made up Big Hit back then.I was a dreamer at heart, but I wasn’t so much of that to entertain the impractical wish to turn back time. But at this moment, that was precisely what I wanted to do, to travel back to the period where all of us practised day and night for debut, sweat dripping down our backs and begriming the cheap laminate floor. It wasn’t that I wanted to change my fate. What I wanted was to relive our struggles and successes, our happiness and disappointment, our cheekiness and seriousness. If I had a second chance, I wanted to live less in my own head and savour every moment I had with my members, carefully remembering everything so that on the same day I was to die, I would leave with more memories than I had now.The corridor reverberated faintly with the thump of bass. Jungkook traced the sound, passing by empty practice rooms before stopping at room at the end.Light filtered out from the square of glass beset into the door. He peered in through the same glass. He pushed the handle down and let himself into the room, the music swallowing the sound of his movement. He stood by the door, the edge of the mirror catching his reflection, but the boy was too engrossed in his dance to notice he had an audience.I had never seen the boy before. Then again, we didn’t see much of the trainees until they were set to debut.If his height was any indication, the boy couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. His moves were sharp and powerful. In the seconds before the music ceased, every lift and jab of his arms landed in time with the final beats.Silence ensued. He dropped the ending pose. As he yanked his collar up to mop his sweaty face, his eyes finally caught Jungkook through the mirror.His jaw dropped.Breathe, boy. I thought when his laboured breaths stopped abruptly.The boy spun to face Jungkook, clamping his arms rigidly by his sides. He folded himself into a bow so low that we had a perfect view of the whorl on top if his head.“J-Jeon Jungkook sunbaenim.”Jungkook’s face did a weird twitch that happened whenever he was try to stifle a wince. I guessed despite all the years in the industry, he still hadn’t got used to being called a sunbaenim.“I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” Jungkook commented.“D-do you want to use this room? I’m so sorry!” The panic in his voice was as thick as the accent I couldn’t quite identify. “ I can scram—”“Oh, no. No, that’s not what I meant. I just thought it’s pretty early for practice. And please, you can, you know…” Jungkook lifted his palms.The boy turned a shade redder when he realised that he was still in a bow. He straightened, but kept his eyes on his shoes.Jungkook tried a smile, but it was a little stiff, as though he weren’t quite sure how to converse with an adolescent that appeared as shy as he was. He settled for the most obvious question.“What’s your name?”“It’s Heobin, sunbaenim. Choi Heobin.”“You from Busan?”Heobin nodded. Right, that explained the accent.“How old are you?”“I'll turn fourteen next month, sunbaenim.”Jungkook looked around the room as though searching for the next question to ask. In the pause that lengthened between them, I caught the way Heobin sneaked a glance at Jungkook. His eyes quivered with awe, respect and fear, like he couldn’t believe he was breathing in the same room as him.“You like dancing?” Jungkook asked.Heobin nodded again.“What’s your favourite style?”“Hip-hop.”“Cool.”The awkwardness in the atmosphere was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.“Well then,” Jungkook said, nodded in finality. “I won’t disturb your practice. See you around, Heobin.”He turned. His left foot had already stepped out of the room when, behind him, Heobin’s voice rang out as sudden as a thunderclap on a sunny day.“You’re my role model, sunbaenim! I look up to you a lot!”From city they came from to the age they became trainees, from their doe-like eyes to their shyness when meeting people for the first time, Heobin reminded me of thirteen-year-old Jungkook.But I guess those were where the similarities ended.::::::::::
The day
Jungkook
joined the company and moved to Seoul, Namjoon was on a family trip to Taiwan. They did not meet each other until a week later, in the third-floor corridor where the vending machines were.
Jungkook was staring at the rows of drinks when someone stepped into place next to him.
Without looking at the person, he gave
a perfunctory nod and mumbled
a spiritless hello.
It was his way of greeting. Eye contacts still made him uncomfortable.
“I haven't seen you around before
,” the person said. “
Are you one of our new trainees?”
Usually he would have answered the question because as much as he disliked small talks, he still knew how to be polite. That day, though, the voice jolted him. He snapped his head up. His eyes grew wide.
There he was, the legendary Kim Namjoon with all the coolness the universe couldn’t contain.
“Did I give you a scare?” Namjoon smiled abashedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm sorry. Here, I’ll buy you a drink.
”
He slotted coins into the vending machine
and t
he buttons lit green.
“Take your pick.”
Jungkook didn’t. He backed away, stumbling on his feet, as though Namjoon a grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.
Many months down the road, this memory would surface and Namjoon would ask Jungkook why he had been so scared of him that day, and Jungkook would defend himself by saying that he had simply been caught off-guard, that being unexpectedly in the presence of his idol had resulted in an instantaneous surge of admiration that blocked all his neuronal pathways.
Of course, that would be much later.
Now, Jungkook only mumbled an unintelligible excuse and took off at the speed of lightning, leaving a very frozen and a very confused Namjoon behind.
::::::::::The outburst of adoration echoed in the cavernous room.“Oh…” Jungkook shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Thanks, I guess.”Heobin dipped his chin toward his chest, the tips of his ears flaming red. He looked like he wanted to bolt past Jungkook out of the room. I could only imagine that he had used up all his courage in professing his admiration for Jungkook.A pause lengthened between the two. Jungkook flitted his eyes from Heobin to the mirror and held there, taking in the contrast between their reflections. He was a good head taller than Heobin, his limbs a lot more muscular than Heobin’s skinny and knobby ones.Jungkook released the handle and the door arced shut. He held himself a little straighter, as though finally realising that at this moment, he wasn’t a maknae but an adult, and he shouldn’t be the awkward one in this equation.As he approached Heobin, a brotherly smile stole across his lips. “If you don’t mind, could I join you for practice?”Heobin lifted his head so abruptly that I feared he would get dizzy. He managed to look fearful and expectant at the same time, as though someone had told him that Christmas had come early but he was half-certain that it was a prank.“R-really?” He sputtered.Jungkook was already doing basic stretches. “Uh huh. Play the music when you’re ready.”::::::::::::
Jungkook sat cross-legged before a
n open
suitcase
.
He had his chin on his palm and
his eyes somewhere faraway
.
Namjoon appeared in the doorway
of the bedroom.
“How’s packing coming al—” H
is voice died when he
glanced
downward. “Oh.”
The wardrobe, packed to the brim with inexistent demarcation as to which clothes belonged to which of the room’s occupants, was open, but except for a few pairs of rolled-up socks, none of the pieces had made their way to the suitcase in the hour since Jungkook had excused himself from the living room, announcing that he was going to start packing.
“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked.
Jungkook looked queasy. “Do you think it’s too late to tell Bang PD that I don’t want to go to the states?”
Namjoon frowned. He
crossed the threshold into the room
and
closed one side of the wardrobe door, making space for himself in the tiny room where two bunk beds were wedged against each other so that the room could house four people instead of the ideal two. He sat down across from Jungkook, the suitcase between them.
“And why do you not want to go?”
Namjoon
asked.
“If you really think about it, there’s no reason for me to. Korea has many talented dancers. If there’s no one suitable to train me in Seoul, I can go to Busan, or Gwangju. That’s where Hoseokie Hyung is from, isn’t it? There’s no point in me going all the way
to US
to learn dancing.”
When he was finished, Jungkook looked at Namjoon as though he was expecting Namjoon to agree. Namjoon didn’t.
“Did you think Bang PD and Son-seonsaengnim haven’t considered all that before deciding to allocate a significant portion of our budget to fly you to America?” Jungkook recoiled, and Namjoon continued, “It’s because they saw potential in you that could be better developed elsewhere. They are certain that you’ll bring something new to the group when you return.”
Jungkook looked chastened. His chin dipped toward his chest. “Still…”
“Besides, haven’t you been excited when they told you you were going?”
“But I don’t know anyone there,” Jungkook blurted.
Namjoon blinked.
“Well…” He began hesitantly. “You’ll make new friends there.”
“We all know how that will go,” Jungkook mumbled, probably irritated that Namjoon would try to comfort him with an idea so outlandish. True, Jungkook had relaxed significantly around the dorm, could even be bratty occasionally, but he was still painfully shy around strangers.
“Ask Taehyung for tips?”
Namjoon suggested next.
As if on cue, they heard Taehyung trying out an impersonation of Stewie Griffin in the living room.
“They won’t work because I’m not him,” Jungkook said petulantly. “Everyone likes Taehyung Hyung.”
“True.” Namjoon cocked his head to one side, considering. “Then again, maybe you don’t need to make any friends there. Sure, having friends will be great, but you’re only going to be there for a month.”
“It’s going to feel like forever.”
“Hoseok already has a laptop borrowed from one of his friends. Jin Hyung has already confirmed that you’ll have connection in your hostel. We’re going to call you every day whether you like it or not. If you want we can even call you more than once a day.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It’s only a one month. You’ll tide through.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Namjoon exhaled, his patience thinning. “Do you really want to give this opportunity up? If so someone else can go in your place. Someone who’d treasure it more than you do.”
Jungkook turned pink. He worked his lips in search of words.
“I…I just can’t stand being away from all of you.”
Namjoon’s eyes softened. He leaned forward to catch Jungkook’s eyes. “Remember the night before you came to Seoul?”
Jungkook nodded uncertainly.
“How did you feel?”
“Nervous. A little excited.” Jungkook hesitated, then admitted with a hint of shame. “But mostly scared.”
“So scared you couldn’t sleep?”
Jungkook nodded again after a brief pause.
“But when morning came, you still picked up your luggage, went to the station, and took the train up to Seoul. You didn’t let fear stop you, did you?”
Namjoon allowed a moment for his words to sink in.
“So why are you letting it hold you back now?”
:::::::::::Heobin collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving. He sprawled back on his arms, his legs kicked out before him. In contrast, Jungkook looked like he had hardly broken out a sweat.“You’re a good dancer, Heobin.” Jungkook said, grinning down at the boy. Heobin’s face lit up.“Do,” he drew in a big gulp of air to ease his breathing, “do you really think so?”“Why would I lie?”“I don’t know.” Heobin shrugged, his face falling. He scratched at a groove on the floor. “Son-seonsaengnim thinks otherwise.”“He’s hard on you?” Jungkook asked kindly.“Nothing seems to be good enough for him. I could land every single beat and practice till I’m on the verge of vomiting but the best comment I get from him is nothing but a ‘That’s okay. It’s nothing amazing. You need to practice more.’” Amusement flickered across Jungkook’s lips when Heobin managed to nail the deep-bellied, no-nonsense voice of Big Hit’s infamous dance instructor whom many trainees were certain hailed from Hell’s deepest throes.“That’s how he is. The first praise I received from him was after my debut. He’s still harsh on us, you know?”Heobin gaped. “Even on you?”“Especially on me. And maybe Taehyungie Hyung,” Jungkook added after a brief moment of consideration. “But wait till you get a chance to dance in front of Hobi Hyung. Don’t tell anyone this but that man’s such a perfectionist that he makes Son-seonsaengnim look like an angel.”I recalled the many instances Hoseok had kept us back in the practice room until our moves were in sync down to the millisecond. I had to repress a shudder.“But you’re perfect!” Heobin looked indignant on Jungkook’s behalf, as though no greater wrong could be committed than a criticism directed at Jungkook. “I want to dance like you. Your dance is so powerful and inspiring. And you’re so cool too. So…so fearless.” Heobin’s voice was a whisper of awe.“Fearless?”Heobin nodded hard.Jungkook’s smile became fainter and sadder. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”“You get scared?” Heobin looked confused.Jungkook tilted his head toward the ceiling, squinting a little from the glare of the spotlights overhead. “Plenty of times.”::::::::::
Namjoon found Jungkook in the resting room, where the younger was currently sitting on a sofa and munching on a submarine sandwich.
“There you are,” Namjoon said. “Come to the studio when you’re done with lunch. Bang PD wants me to show you how to use the new music software.”
“Can’t, Hyung,” Jungkook wiped a smear of mayonnaise from the corner of his lips. “I have to go for dance practice.”
“Right…” Namjoon dragged the word deliberately, wrapping it in suspicion. “You practiced yesterday. And the day before yesterday,” he added when Jungkook opened his mouth to argue. “Three days ago too.”
“It’s
a difficult dance for an important performance
,” Jungkook
took an aggressive bite of his sandwich,
avoiding Namjoon’s eyes.
“
Which surely you have already mastered given your aptitude.”
“Not perfectly. If you ask Hoseok Hyung—”
“I did,” Namjoon said coolly. “He agreed that while more practice is good, you don’t have to put off other things to do it. So, no, there won’t be any dance practice for you today.” He looked meaningfully at Jungkook. “He also finds it strange how…enthusiastic you are about this dance.”
A look of betrayal crumpled Jungkook’s face. “It’d be nice if the two of you didn’t talk behind my back.”
“I promise you that wasn’t my original intention.” Namjoon sighed. “I only wanted to confirm my suspicions.”
Jungkook said nothing, but his actions simmered with annoyance as he picked the sesame seeds off the sandwich he no longer had any appetite for.
Namjoon stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He sat in the couch next to Jungkook.
“At first I thought it was me that you were avoiding, but other than your obvious unwillingness to enter the studio whenever I invited you to watch me, nothing seemed to have changed.”
“I don’t like making music,” Jungkook grumbled. “There I said it. Is that what you want to hear?”
“You’re our main voc—”
“I don’t mean singing! I mean the backend work. Composing, mixing and producing. Making sure everything sounds like it’s in the right place.”
Namjoon looked taken aback. “Bang PD wants us to learn to make music so that—”
“So that the songs we put out reflect Bangtan at its core. I know, I know all that. He’s said that many times,” Jungkook said irritably. “But why bother when the music I make isn’t any good? I never know what beats are perfect, whether the bass should be amplified, whether I should throw flute into the mix. Those things escape me.”
Namjoon looked at Jungkook as if truly seeing him for the first time. The younger pretended not to notice. He crumpled the wrapper around his half-eaten sandwich and dumped it into the bin by his feet.
“I think you’re over-stressing yourself,” Namjoon said slowly, keeping a careful eye on Jungkook. “You’re just starting out. Of course it’s not going to be easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be this difficult either.” If Jungkook was irritated at Namjoon a moment ago, he sounded frustrated with himself now. “I’m supposed to be a fast learner. What kind of golden maknae am I if I can’t pick things up quickly?”
A quiet embraced the two, one pondering and the other, still antsy.
“I wonder about that sometimes,” Namjoon said eventually.
“What?”
“Whether or not calling you our golden maknae does more harm than good.”
“What do you mean?”
“The pressure of constantly feeling like you have to live up to the title. It can’t be healthy.”
When Jungkook only looked morosely at his hands, Namjoon continued, “But Jungkook, we label you our golden maknae because we are proud of you. Not because we expect you to be perfect at everything you do. So heaven forbid hold yourself back because of that.”
::::::::::Jungkook and Heobin sat with their backs against the wall, their legs angled up before their chest, their shoulders touching, and their reflections huddled in the mirror across from them.For the past thirty minutes or so, Jungkook regaled Heobin with his experience as an idol. He spoke about the memories that stuck out the most for him: the time he nearly collapsed on stage, the fears he struggled with, the euphoria that fluttered down over his shoulders like a warm blanket on a wintry morning as he stared out at a purple sea of lights. He spoke out of sequence, jumping back and forth along the timeline. Sometimes he grinned, sometimes he frowned, and sometimes longing seeped across his face.I had never heard Jungkook speak so much for so long. He had always been one of the quieter ones in Bangtan, more a listener than an orator.And Heobin, he listened in awestruck attention, catching Jungkook’s every word like it was a jewel meant to be treasured. He asked questions too, with the curiosity of a thirteen-year-old boy who, at least at that moment, wanted nothing more to debut and own the stage. It was his questions that opened up Jungkook’s trove of stories in the first place.“How do you deal with all the expectations?”Jungkook considered Heobin’s question for a moment.“I guess the key is not to be afraid of being imperfect,” he said. “And not to let fear stop you.”:::::::::
Jungkook moved the cursor over the button and clicked
on the mouse
. The music
pouring from the speakers stopped.
“So what do you think, Hyung?” Jungkook asked, turning his roller chair so that he faced Namjoon.
“It’s not too bad on the whole,” Namjoon said thoughtfully. “But some parts definitely sound strange. Especially the bridge leading into the chorus.”
“I thought the same too.” The chair dipped as Jungkook leaned back. “I couldn’t really pinpoint what’s wrong. It sounds like the vocals are being overwhelmed by the background music, but when I tried to tone the music down, the song just feels…off. Changing the beats doesn’t work either. I might tweak the bass next…” He trailed off with the distant look of someone deep in his thoughts.
Then, abruptly, Jungkook snapped his eyes back upon Namjoon. They were bright with clarity.
“It’s the bass, isn’t it?” Jungkook asked, a barely suppressed note of excitement in his voice. “I don’t have to tune down the background down entirely. Just the bass. Right?”
Namjoon’s face was a mixture of amusement and pride.
“Say, Jungkook, why do you need me again?”
::::::::::Jungkook glanced at the clock. Between the practice and conversation, a couple of hours had sailed by. It was now 9.30 a.m. He stared at it for a moment before turning to Heobin in honest confusion.“Aren’t you supposed to be at school now?”Heobin startled. His cheeks, still round and a little pudgy with adolescent fat, coloured with circles of red. He smiled feebly, like child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.“I was…but then you came and…and you offered to practise with me…so…” His voice became softer with each syllable, until it was an inaudible mumble.“You shouldn’t skip classes,” Jungkook chastised, but only half-heartedly. Perhaps he realised that he wasn’t in the best position to be lecturing truants, having missed several school days himself. Perhaps he understood, more than anyone else, that education isn’t the only foundation upon which success could be built.“You can still catch some classes,” he added.Heobin’s nose scrunched in distaste. “I’d rather practice more with you.”“Can’t. I have to go. I have to talk to someone big and powerful.”Heobin deflated visibly in disappointment. “Bang PD?”“Bingo. How did you guess?”“There’s no one bigger and more powerful than him around here. Are you in trouble?”“I might be.” When Heobin looked sincerely worried for him, Jungkook grinned, smile lines extending from his eyes. “But I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure he’ll forgive me. Though not if I’m late.”Jungkook pushed himself off the floor. Heobin scrambled to his feet too.“It was great to meet you here today, Heobin.” Facing Heobin, Jungkook extended a hand in the air.Heobin took Jungkook’s hand and shook it. When the time came for him to let go of the hand, It looked as though it was feat that demanded all his willpower.“Work hard, won’t you?” Jungkook said. “I can’t wait to see your debut stage.”Heobin nodded his head in determination. “I want to become just like you.”
I want to become just like you.
Many years ago, on the balcony of our first dorm, the same words were spoken from Jungkook to me. At that time I only thanked him for the remark. I didn’t kill his vision. I did not try to convince him that he should be his own unique individual. Fast forward to now, in chasing after the vision of me, Jungkook, paradoxically, had grown to become his own person: strong, thoughtful, and brave, albeit occasionally insolent.So at this moment, Jungkook said nothing in return. He merely smiled and ruffled Heobin’s hair.Someday Heobin would carve out his own path too. He would become to someone else like Jungkook was to him, like I had been to Jungkook. But for now, Jungkook would be his goal, a lighthouse that re-centered him when he encountered exhaustion or defeat, both of which weren’t uncommon in a trainee’s arduous life.After bidding goodbye to Heobin, Jungkook went to the topmost floor. Behind frosted glass, the rotund figure of Bang PD looked like he was sorting out papers.Jungkook strode forward, took in a deep breath, and knocked.::::::::::A few steps out of Bang PD’s office, Jungkook found Yoongi and Hoseok in the reception area, sitting on the couches. Nearby, Bang PD’s secretary was on the phone.Yoongi and Hoseok got to their feet when they saw Jungkook, their movements a little hesitant and a little anxious.“I didn’t expect to see the both of you here,” Jungkook said, pleasantly surprised.“How did it go?” Hoseok asked.A glint of mischief twinkled in Jungkook’s eyes. I knew him well enough to know that he was contemplating whether or not he should prank his hyungs. In the end he did not.“Let’s just say that all of you are going to be stuck with my bratty self a lot longer.”Hoseok let loose a cheer, a megawatt smile splitting across his face. He flew forward and clamped Jungkook into a headlock, pressing kisses onto Jungkook’s face. Jungkook laughed. Behind them, Yoongi looked embarrassed at the two’s antics, but the uptick of his lips was undeniable.“How do you feel?” Yoongi asked after Jungkook had managed to extract himself from Hoseok.“A little scared I guess,” Jungkook grinned. He looked Yoongi directly in the eye. “But I think I’m ready to grow up.”::::::::::That night, Jin, Taehyung and Jimin threw together a last-minute party. They ordered food in, prepared cans of beers and a bottle of red wine. The weight in the atmosphere was gone, and Jungkook looked more relaxed than he had in weeks.When grease-stained pizza boxes, bare chicken bones and empty cans were all that remained on the coffee table, Jungkook called for the attention of his hyungs and tried to give a formal apology for everything he had put them through. However, before he could get a word out, Jin stopped him.“You’ve said enough ‘sorry’s’ over the past few days to last a lifetime, don’t you think? From now on, we’ll only accept saranghaes.”Jimin’s and Taehyung’s faces brightened like there was no idea better than that. Yoongi shuddered.Jungkook found another way to apologise. When it was time to clean up, he shooed the rest of the members back to their rooms, insisting that he be the one to do it. No one argued. No one loved cleaning that much.After Jungkook was done, he washed up and, like many of the nights that came before this, sat in the quiet living room, his hair fluttering in the slight breeze snaking through the gaps between the windows. He sat there for a long time.I was surprised. Now that his dilemma had been resolved, I had thought that he would drop himself onto the bed and fall asleep promptly. It seemed like his guilt hadn’t been the sole reason why he couldn’t sleep.He rose from the sofa when the clock hit two in the morning. Like I had expected, he padded silently to Yoongi’s room. He opened the door a fraction and peeked in, then closed it and headed to Jin’s, repeating the same actions. He seemed to panic when he found Jimin’s bed empty, but relaxed when he found Jimin snoozing away in Taehyung’s room instead.He shook his head fondly at how Taehyung had his arms and legs all over Jimin, and at how unperturbed the latter was.To my surprise, Jungkook entered the room and closed the door behind him. He got into the bed next to Taehyung. The mattress dipped and Taehyung shifted, his eyes opening into sleepy slits. In his haze, he recognised Jungkook.“Jungkookie,” Taehyung slurred, smiling sleepily. “Glad to have you back, Jungkookie…”“Glad to be back too, Hyung,” Jungkook said softly, even though the other would not hear, for he had fallen asleep once again, soft snores issuing forth.Jungkook threw his an arm across both Taehyung and Jimin. He snuggled closer, painting a picture reminiscent of years ago where we had to share beds.Come tomorrow morning, the three of them would find themselves in a chaos of limbs. Jimin would complain about a numb thigh, Jungkook would suffer from a horrible whiplash, and Taehyung would be infuriatingly chirpy in the eyes of the other two because he was the only one who got a good sleep.Now, however, Jungkook closed his eyes.For the first time in weeks, he slept tight.
End of Jungkook's chapter
::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Out of their own volition, Bangtan had begun to trickle back to the recording studios. Perhaps they were driven by boredom. Perhaps Jungkook’s almost leaving made them realised that Bangtan wouldn’t be around forever. Or, if I wanted to be philosophical about it, perhaps my death reminded them that life was too short and fragile not to spend on making art that could be carried down generations even though the creators were long gone.
No matter the reason, I was happy. They were moving on.
The members were not given any hard deadlines to meet. Songs would be released only when the members felt ready, and whether or not there would be any promotions was up to the members as well. The last thing Bang PD wanted was to shove Bangtan back into the spotlight before the members were in the right frame of mind.
When I was alive, our schedule never really let up. When we were not attending award shows or holding concerts, we were filming the next Run episode or shooting for a magazine. When the camera was off, we recorded for songs or practiced choreographies until our limbs slackened with exhaustion, spurred by the fear of letting our fans down. In this way all of us could be considered workaholics. However, now that members were allowed to work at their own pace, it was becoming apparent who were more workaholic than the others. Let me clarify before anyone misunderstood: this was no more than an endearing observation, with no intention to compliment those who worked more or to disapprove those who worked less.
At this moment, the front door of the apartment opened and two of the three most workaholic members entered. You might wonder: Where’s the third one? Hoseok was, of course, still working away in Hope World, probably trying to find the correct beats to go with a tune.
With uncanny synchronicity, Yoongi and Jimin toed out of their shoes, pick them up, opened each side of the shoe cupboard, slotted their shoes in, closed the doors. They headed into the kitchen and flipped on the lights.
“Wine?” Jimin asked as he opened a cabinet. It was a mini wine cellar really. Bottles of wine lay on the slanted racks, labels gleaming with glossy letters. Jimin and Jungkook had invested in the cabinet a couple of years ago after realising their shared interest in wine.
“No thanks,” Yoongi said, pulling a decanter out of the fridge and pouring himself a glass of water. “I’m good with just water.”
Jimin didn’t insist. He uncorked the wine, retrieved a glass, and tipped the bottle. The deep red stream produced a fluting sound as it hit the glass. Yoongi’s eyes followed the rising level of wine in Jimin’s glass.
“Don’t drink too much,” he said. “We’re still recording tomorrow.”
Jimin righted the wine bottle and flashed Yoongi a smug smile. “You forget that I hold my liquor best out of Bangtan.”
“That’s hardly something to brag about.”
Jimin picked his glass up by the stem, swirled the liquid within and held it under his nose. Satisfaction flitted across his face.
Yoongi looked like he had more to say. But in the end he only waved Jimin good night. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said, then went back to his room.
Alone in the kitchen, Jimin sat at the table, a leg folded up against his chest. He played on his phone as he drank. He hummed too. When his glass emptied, he poured himself another. Then another. And another, until he had to shake the bottle to release its few remaining drops. He looked almost disappointed. He went to the sink and rinsed bottle, then left it next to the trash bin, where it joined the rest of the empty bottles from the previous nights.
That should have been a warning sign.
:::::::::
On his way to the snack cupboard, Hoseok came across Yoongi sitting in the living room, staring into space as though frozen in time.It wasn't a rare sight. When a particularly elusive streak of inspiration tantalized him to a chase, his mind slipped into a far-off dimension, and the immediate physical surroundings became inconsequential. I understood because I was like that too.Hoseok padded back from the kitchen, a bag of chips in one hand and a can of soda in the other. He dropped himself unceremoniously next to Yoongi, bouncing a little from the spring in the sofa. The sudden intrusion startled Yoongi and snapped him out of his reverie. Irritation skittered across his face.“Sorry.” Hoseok grinned before Yoongi had the chance to lash out at him. “I wasn’t thinking.”“Obviously,” Yoongi muttered.Hoseok tore open the bag of chips and held it out like one would a peace offering. “Chips? It’s a new flavour. Butter and caramel.”Yoongi waved him off dismissively, instead snatching the soda Hoseok had put on the coffee table a second ago. Hoseok didn’t seem to mind. He slouched back onto the sofa and propped his feet on the edge of the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. He grabbed a few pieces of chips at one go and shoved them into his mouth.“What were you thinking about?” Hoseok asked through his noisy munching.“Nothing much,” Yoongi said. He wiped the top of the can with his shirt, then pulled on its ring. The trapped gas escaped with a hiss. “Just the usual music-related things and whatnot.”“But these days you seem more consumed than usual.”“Perhaps.” Yoongi shrugged. “I don't think fans expect us to sound the same after what happened, but that doesn't stop me from worrying.”In the past, I undertook the main duty of producing for Bangtan, dabbling in almost every song on the albums. Yoongi helped, but he had more freedom in choosing the songs he wanted to work on. Now that I was gone, the baton had been passed on to him. Though our styles were different — his edgier and mine more hopeful — I had no doubt that he'd be able to do the job well. He was one of the best producers I knew, but I also knew that talent does little to stop doubt from creeping in.Hearing Yoongi speak openly about his concerns was refreshing in its rarity, but also unsurprising. If there was anyone in the team that Yoongi bared himself to, it was Hoseok.Even though said confidant was currently feigning shock.“The tsundere Min Suga is nervous?”Yoongi shot Hoseok an unamused look. Hoseok laughed. Even after he stopped, the smile never quite slid off his face.“You know, I have begun to believe that Bangtan has gone through too much for us not to be okay. It's not that I think bad things wouldn't happen to us ever again, touch wood—” Hoseok bent forward to graze his fingertips against the wooden legs of the coffee table. “No, I'm not naive enough to believe that. But what could be worse than losing Namjoon? Yet all of us pushed through.” He looked at Yoongi, pride bright in his eyes. “So whatever bad things lie ahead of us, we will rise above all of them, because that's what we do.”Yoongi drank a mouthful of soda. “Sometimes I wonder where your endless supply of optimism comes from.”“I have a reservoir—no, scratch that—I am a reservoir of all things sunshine and positive, starting right from my name. I’m your hope, you're my hope, I’m J-Hope.”Hoseok grinned, popping a few more chips into his mouth. If Yoongi cringed any harder, he would be crushing his can.“I would smack your head upside down if I didn't have to admit that your nerve-grating optimism is probably what keeps us going.”“Don't lie, Hyung,” Hoseok nudged Yoongi’s calf with his big toe, raising his eyebrows suggestively, “You like me best because I'm a ray of sunshine to your night.”Yoongi held up his can, his cheeks twitching with the effort of keeping his face straight. “I’m this close to emptying this over your head.”“Okay, okay.” Hoseok retracted his offending toe in mock surrender. “This is really good by the way. Are you sure you don’t want to try?” Hoseok shoved the bag of chips under Yoongi’s nose.Yoongi obliged. His face crinkled in distaste as he chewed. “Is it supposed to be so sweet?”“Oh, I forgot that your tastebuds are like a grandpa’s.”“My tastebuds are mature and sophisticated, thank you very much.”Hoseok sniggered a little. Then he turned to look at Yoongi, the smile on his face brimming with affection. “I’m so glad that we’re back to joking around like this, Hyung.”The relief in Hoseok’s voice was profound, like he could finally breathe easy now that the raging storm had passed. Two months ago, when Yoongi was still stewing in his own anger and hatred, conversations of such nature seemed beyond anybody’s imagination.Yoongi lowered his face to hide the faint pink circles that coloured his cheeks. “It’s nice, I guess.”“I’m also glad that all of us are back at making music again.”“That is nice, too.” Yoongi said, without looking at Hoseok.He reached for the remote control and turned on the television to Hello Counsellor. Both Hoseok and I understood that Yoongi had probably reached his daily quota of talking about things that were sentimental and emotional. So Hoseok backed away gracefully and became a casual TV companion to Yoongi.They watched the hosts dole out advice to troubled guests, sharing the soda and bag of chips between them (yes, despite his initial aversion, Yoongi’d helped himself to a few more chips; I had every reason to believe that the taste was growing on him).Halfway way through the airing of grievances by a wife with a patriarchal husband, Hoseok’s phone rang.“Hyung, hold this for me,” Hoseok handed the soda to Yoongi. He wiped the condensation off his hand on his shorts and squirmed to pull out his phone. “It’s Sejin Hyung,” he announced even though Yoongi hadn’t asked. He swiped a thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear.“Hey, Hyung, what’s up?”There was a pause.“No, they’re not at home,” Hoseok said. “They went out for supper.”I figured they were talking about Jimin and Taehyung, who were the only ones not in the apartment at this moment. Jin and Jungkook were in their rooms, one lounging on the bed catching up on YouTube videos and the other gaming away, ears concealed under heavy headphones.There was more talking, and Hoseok’s eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. He sat up straight.“That can’t be right. Is he sure he saw them correctly? Not some lookalikes?”From Hoseok’s voice, Yoongi sensed something was wrong. He muted the television and looked at Hoseok, questions plain on his face. Hoseok only pursed his lips and shook his head.“It’s just not possible, Hyung. Jimin and Taehyung know better than to do that.”Unease crawled up my spine. With the noise from the television gone, I could hear Sejin Hyung’s voice, but it was too muffled for me to make out the individual words.“Okay. Should I come with you?” Hoseok paused, then nodded grimly. “All right, keep me updated. I’ll try to reach them in the meantime.”Hoseok hung up.“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked immediately.Hoseok stared at Yoongi, as though he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what he’d just been told. He found his voice a few seconds later.“Jimin and Taehyung. They might be in trouble.”::::::::::Before I saw Jimin and Taehyung, I heard their voices and giggles rolling down the corridor. Softer in the background was Sejin Hyung’s coaxing, edged with strained exasperation.The members in the apartment heard them too. Jin and Yoongi rose from the sofa, Jungkook pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, and Hoseok stopped his anxious pacing. All of them surged forward to the entryway just as the front door open and Taehyung staggered in, tripping over his own feet.“Woah Hyung, be careful.” Jungkook’s hand shot forward, righting Taehyung by the elbow.Jimin came in next, his lips stretched in an intoxicated smile. “Taetae can’t even walk,” he mumbled to himself, then burst into a fit of full-body giggles, slumping against the shoe cupboard.“Shoes!” Taehyung frowned and pouted as he kicked off his loafers. “Taetae hates shoes! They bite Taetae!”When Sejin Hyung edged in last, looking as winded as someone who had just finish a marathon, the entryway became uncomfortably cramped.“Boys, can you get them inside first?”At Sejin Hyung’s voice, the members blinked out of their frozen horror and confusion, as though finally remembering to move. Yoongi and Hoseok pulled a generally pliant Jimin by his arms. Jin and Jungkook had the taller order of wrestling an uncooperative Taehyung who was now trying to unbutton his shirt.In the living room, Jimin dropped himself onto the sofa and threw his head back, smiling at the ceiling with his eyes unfocused. Hoseok’s jaw tightened.“What the hell, Jimin?” Hoseok’s voice was sharp with anger, betrayal, confusion.Jimin’s eyes slid lazily over to Hoseok. He smiled. “Hyung, why do you look so serious?”“Do you even realised what you’ve done?”Jimin blinked slowly. He pulled a cushion onto his lap and fell sideways to curl on the sofa like a foetus. “Don’t be angry, Hyung,” he slurred, tucking his chin into the cushion. “Taetae and I just went out to have some fun. Just aaaaa bit.” He squinted and showed a minuscule gap between his thumb and forefinger. “A tinyyyy teeennny bittt.” He giggled again.Hoseok’s chest lifted, but before he could expel further words, Taehyung’s wail split the house.“Hyung!” Taehyung had stopped trying to undress himself, and had instead latched himself onto Jin. “Hyung… Hyung…I’m sorry.” He sobbed, burying his face into the older’s neck.“Okay, Taehyung, I know you are sorry.” Jin said as patiently as he could, while he tried to push Taehyung off. “But you need to let go of me.”“No! I won’t let go unless you forgive me!”Jin looked at Sejin Hyung and Jungkook for rescue. However, the more they tried to pry Taehyung off, the tighter Taehyung wound his arms around Jin. It became clear that they couldn’t intervene without Jin suffocating in the process.“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you.”Taehyung shook his head vehemently, crying harder than before. “You won’t forgive me. If you knew what I’d done, you wouldn’t forgive me. It’s all my fault, Hyung. It’s all my fault…my fault…”His voice trailed into a mumble. Then, as suddenly as though someone had flicked off a switch in him, his arms around Jin’s neck loosened. He would have hit the floor had Jungkook not darted forward to catch him under his arms. As absurd as it might seem, Taehyung had fallen asleep, tear tracks glistening on his face.Jin and Sejin Hyung breathed a collective sigh of relief, though worry still resided on their faces.“Jungkook, get Taehyung back to his room,” Jin said, rubbing his neck.The way Jungkook dragged Taehyung off reminded me of a murderer working to dispose a body.“I’ve completely forgotten how chaotic a drunk Taehyung is,” Jin remarked. His attempt at injecting an iota of humour into the atmosphere failed. Faces of the sober were still grim.On the sofa, Jimin was drifting off, his eyes becoming increasingly lidded. Hoseok looked like he had half the mind to shake him awake and continue the interrogation.“Hobi, we’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Yoongi said. “You’re not going to get anything intelligible out of him tonight.”Though displeased, Hoseok nodded tightly. He turned to Sejin Hyung. “What exactly happened?”Sejin pulled a square of handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. “You know the reporter who has taken a liking to Taehyung? The one we usually see at the airport?” When the rest nodded, he continued, “He saw them at a bar. He started getting concerned when it seemed like they have had too much to drink. Taehyung was becoming boisterous. So he called me and after confirming with you that they weren’t at home, I went to get them.” He refolded his handkerchief and put it away. “We are still uncertain if there were other paparazzis at the bar, but we’re incredibly lucky that this reporter notified us before their behaviour got further out of control. You saw how Taehyung is like when he’s drunk. Any idea what drove them to get wasted in public?”Jin, Yoongi and Hoseok shook their heads.Neither did I have any ideas. We have drunk alcohol in public before, but we had never allowed ourselves to get wasted. When we get drunk, it was behind closed doors. I had thought Jimin and Taehyung sensible enough not to make such lapse of judgement. Besides Taehyung didn’t even like alcohol that much.Jin looked at Jimin, who had begun snoring, and sighed.“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
TBC
::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The sun was already halfway to its zenith when Jimin stirred. He looked like he had trouble opening his eyes. For a few minutes, he laid on the sofa and squinted at the ceiling, the spot between his eyebrows creased and confused.Suddenly the lines of his body went rigid. The arms he had kept wrapped around a cushion cinched tighter. That was all I needed to know that his haze had parted and recollection had caught up. He was one of the few people I knew who remembered events with startling clarity even when inebriated.Wisps of a conversation floated out of the kitchen. Its tones were too low for us to make out its contents, but we could hear the hisses of barely restrained anger that spiked through it.“Shit,” Jimin cursed, clutching his temples in a vice-like grip.He did not rise from the sofa.I wondered what would happen first: Hoseok charging into living room and yanking Jimin out of the sofa because his patience had finally burned itself out, or Jimin surrendering because he could no longer endure the pounding in his head and had to brave the kitchen for remedies.It turned out to be the latter.With slow and heavy movements, Jimin drew himself upright and moved his legs over the edge of the sofa. The blanket Jungkook had thrown over him last night slunk to the floor. For a good minute or so, he simply sat there, both feet planted on the cold tiles. I didn’t know what went through his head, but his eyes narrowed and his face hardened, until he seemed like a bow strung too tight.“Fuck this.”He shoved the cushion aside and stood up sharply, nearly throwing himself off balance. He went to the kitchen, his chin lifted and his jaw set, his steps wide and swaggering instead of meek and guilty.The conversation between Yoongi and Hoseok died abruptly.“There you are, sunshine,” Hoseok said from where he sat at the table with Yoongi. His eyes were cool and his voice was flat. “You look well-rested.”That couldn’t be further from the truth. Over the night, Hoseok’s anger had swelled. The sarcasm was only a prelude to the storm waiting to be unleashed.Jimin flattened his lips into a murderous line and stomped to the refrigerator. He opened it and pulled out a pitcher of water, then grabbed a mug from the dish rack and began to pour.“I'm surprised,” Hoseok remarked, “I thought you'd be reaching for the wine bottle instead.”A quick stab of hurt flashed across Jimin’s face. His grip on the pitcher faltered. Some water sloshed over the lip of the mug, splattering onto the tiled floor.“Hoseok,” Yoongi warned, “We’ve talked about this.”Yoongi and Hoseok were often like two sides of a scale, one always trying to balance the other. When Yoongi raged, Hoseok acted as the voice of reason. When Hoseok fumed, Yoongi kept a clear head. A look at Jimin tells enough that an aggressive confrontation was akin to an attempt to put out fire with kerosene, foolish and destructive.If Hoseok was chastened by Yoongi’s warning, he did not show. His shoulders remained squared with righteous anger.Jimin guzzled the water, ignoring the eyes. He filled his mug a second time and drank again.“Sit down when you're done. We need to talk,” Hoseok said.“No,” Jimin muttered.Hoseok raised an eyebrow. “Of course you’re welcome to stand.”Jimin almost slammed the mug onto the countertop. “No.” Hoseok looked incredulous. Yoongi frowned.“We are not asking.” The previous sarcasm in Hoseok’s voice had disappeared, and unadulterated anger came through. “You are talking to us whether you want it or not.”“I don’t need a lecture this early in the morning,” Jimin snapped. “My headache is killing me. I just want to pop an Advil and go to bed, all right?”Hoseok’s eyes bore into Jimin’s. “I don't think you understand the gravity of what you've done, Park Jimin.” Not Jiminie, not Jimin-ah, not even Jimin; but Park Jimin. “You put what Bangtan at risk. Don’t you think you owe us an explanation?”Jimin closed his eyes, a breath of frustration shuddering out of him. He carded his hand through his hair.“Taehyung and I went out for supper. We walked by a bar, thought we needed a drink. We went in, overestimated ourselves, got wasted. End of story. Happy?”“Whose idea was it?”Jimin looked unflinchingly at Hoseok. “Mine. Taehyung just followed like the good—or bad—” he cracked a humourless smile, “soulmate that he is. Please, can I leave now?”“You know better than to do that,” Hoseok said.“I’m in the wrong, I know.”“That’s what you say, but your current attitude indicates otherwise. Where’s the remorse? I don’t see it.”“I’m sorry,” Jimin bit back. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. There, that’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? I made a mistake. I went against my better judgement. I put Bangtan’s gleaming reputation on the line. I’m sorry. I am. What else do you want me to say? What else can I say?”Jimin was poised like a porcupine with all its spikes stiff and fanned out. His eyes were agitated, his voice shrill, his hands clenched.Hoseok looked like it was exhausting every bit of his self-control not to explode on Jimin there and there. His chest heaved, as though he was gathering words, but it was Yoongi who spoke.“We’re not just talking about last night, Jimin,” Yoongi said quietly, his voice slicing through the tension like an icy blade. “You’ve been drinking a lot recently.”Jimin followed Yoongi’s line of sight to the empty wine bottles that stood beside the trash bin, yet to be cleared away by our housekeeper because the collection date was not until later in the month. The bottles glared as accusingly as witnesses in the stand. They testified against me as much as they did Jimin.Like Yoongi, I had noticed Jimin drinking more than usual. When he started guzzling wine like it was water every night, I told myself there was nothing wrong with drinking to unwind. Then he started drinking a glass in the morning, and I told myself he was drinking to loosen his nerves before the recording studio beckoned.I convinced myself that Jimin, being the sweet and sensible person that he is, knew what he was doing. Deep down I had known that something was off, but I had looked past all the obvious signs because things had been peaceful for a while now and I refused to believe that Bangtan was less than fixed.Jimin stared at the bottles. For the briefest of a second, he cracked, and I saw the fear and shame that quivered in his eyes. But he became proud again.“I won’t drink anymore,” he said, lifting his chin defiantly.“That’s not the point here,” Yoongi said, still patient. “Tell us what’s bothering you so much that you’re turning to alcohol. We want to help.”“Nothing’s bothering me. Nothing.” The way Jimin spoke, it was as though he was trying to convince himself. “I’m just stressed now that we’re recording again. I just need a break. Now if you’d excuse me.”He turned to leave the kitchen.Hoseok rose hotly from his seat. “I swear to god, Jimin—”“What else do you want me to say?!” Jimin spun around with such force that stunned both Yoongi and Hoseok, spitting words through gritted teeth. “I told you I’m sorry! Is that not good enough for you? This is my mistake, a lapse in my judgement. I admit it. But for goodness sake just let me go! Weren’t you the very people who told me that I didn’t need to be perfect all the time? But one mistake I make and all of you are on my case like I’m the world’s greatest sinner! You guys were so forgiving toward Jungkook when he threatened the group’s existence by wanting out. Why couldn’t you show the same forgiveness toward me?”The air vibrated with Jimin’s voice. His eyes swept from Yoongi to Hoseok, as if daring them to contradict him. Hoseok’s eyes blazed. Jimin let his glare linger a beat more, then he turned on his heels.He pulled up short when he came chest to chest with Jungkook, who looked awkward and uncertain. Jimin’s eyes widened, his anger temporarily forgotten.Then he came back to himself. He scowled at Jungkook.“Get out of my way.”He barrelled into the youngest’s shoulder and stormed away. A few seconds later, the door to his room slammed.::::::::::Another slam sounded a few minutes later. This time of the front door as Hoseok swept out in tight-lipped fury.Yoongi was at the sink rinsing Jimin’s mug when Jin came into the kitchen.“What an eventful morning,” Jin remarked as he bent over to retrieve a pot from one of the lower cabinets.Yoongi tilted his head at Jin. “You heard that?”“It was hard not to with how loud Jimin was yelling. And I reckon we need to replace the doors soon with all the slamming that’s been happening these few months.”“Don’t assume I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Yoongi said drily.Jin shrugged innocently. “I’m not accusing anyone in particular but…if the shoe fits.”He sidled to the sink and nudged Yoongi aside. He pushed the pot over Yoongi’s mug to intercept the stream of water. Yoongi shot Jin a look of mild annoyance.“Top priority here,” Jin said as the pot filled. “How’s Hoseok? Is he okay?” He pulled the pot away, set it on the stove and turned on the flame.“He’s gone to the company. You know how he’s like when he’s angry.”“Throwing himself into work twice harder than usual, as if he isn’t working hard enough already,” Jin said with a note of amusement. He padded over to the refrigerator and took out what I recognised as ingredients for miso soup.Yoongi nodded, turning the tap off and flinging the mug a couple of times before setting it upside down on the dish rack.“Though to be honest, I don’t think he’s angry as much as he’s confused. I’m confused too.” He lowered his voice slightly. “What’s your take on Jimin?”Jin cocked his head to one side. "What do you mean?"“What he did last night, how he behaved just now. Neither is like him. Do you think Namjoon’s death has anything to do with it?”Jin looked up from the cutting board where he was methodically slicing a block of tofu into smaller cubes. “Why do you say so?”“I’m no psychologist, but I’ve read somewhere that some people turn to substance abuse as a coping mechanism for grief.”Substance abuse. The words rattled my core and trailed glacial dread down my spine. I hope Yoongi was wrong. For my sake and theirs, I hope he was.Jin fell into a pondering silence, Yoongi’s words probably having the same effect on him as it had on me. Tiny bubbles began to rise in the pot of water. He lowered the flame, then scooped miso paste out of its container with a ladle.“I don’t know, Yoongi,” Jin said as he dissolved the miso into the water with a pair of chopsticks. “Are you sure you’re not reading too much into it? Jimin was fine before, wasn’t he?”“Like I’ve said, I’m no psychologist. But if he was fine before, he certainly isn’t now.”Jin considered Yoongi’s words. He looked troubled for a second, then he rolled his shoulders and gave Yoongi a smile that meant to reassure.“We’ll keep an eye on him and try to talk to him again when he has cooled down. Have you heard from the company yet?” He asked in a bid to steer the conversation to territories that were less complicated and grim in comparison.“Not yet.” Yoongi shook his head. “At this point I’m just going to take no news as good news.”Jin nodded as he shook a packet of kelp into the soup. Their dark green lightened into a translucent emerald as they unfurled in the simmering water.“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there,” he said, dropping a lid over the pot. “Who knows, we might be lucky enough not to have to cross any bridge. But first we need to make sure that hangovers are not killing two of our members. Go check on Taehyung, will you?”If there was anyone who was worse-off than Jimin that morning, it was Taehyung. He sat on his bed, staring morosely at his fingers in his laps. His eyes darted up when Yoongi opened the door to his room.“Hyung,” Taehyung croaked.For someone who was consistently ranked among the world’s most handsome, he looked worse for wear. His face was swollen, his eyes puffy, his skin lifeless. A tuft of hair behind his left ear poked away from his scalp.“You’re up. I thought you’d still be out cold,” Yoongi said. “Come out, won’t you? Jin Hyung made you some soup.”Taehyung made no move to leave the bed. “Hyung,” his eyelashes seemed to quiver in fear, “how bad was I last night?”He was a complete opposite to Jimin when drunk. When intoxicated, he remembered neither the things he had done nor the things that had happened.Yoongi released an inaudible sigh. He let himself into the room. The door closed lightly behind him.“What do you think?” Yoongi’s voice held the barest hint of reprimand and disappointment. “We thought you were going to suffocate Jin Hyung.”Taehyung squeezed his eyes tightly shut in what seemed like self-hatred. When he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t meet Yoongi’s eyes. “How angry is Hoseok hyung?” He asked in a scared whisper.“On a scale a one to ten, I would say a fifteen.”Taehyung swallowed hard.“He’s currently not at home,” Yoongi added.The revelation didn’t put Taehyung at ease. He wrapped his arms around his legs and bowed his forehead to his knees. “We really screwed up, haven’t we?”Yoongi didn’t answer directly. “I just don’t understand,” he said instead. “Jimin said it was his idea, but why didn’t you stop him?”A pause, then Taehyung said, “I thought it’d be fine since I was there to watch him.”“Until you started drinking as well.” For the first time that morning, I heard the mingle of frustration and confusion that Yoongi’d hidden under his composure. “Taehyung, you know as well as all of us that you hold your alcohol as well as a tiny teacup could hold a gallon of water. Why did you decide to throw heed to caution?”Taehyung didn’t reply. Neither did he lift his face. If anything, he seemed to draw deeper into himself.“You and Jimin do pretty stupid things together but this,” Yoongi drew a gesture in the air, “this is just unacceptable. Haven’t you said that you want to be someone ARMY could be proud of? This certainly isn’t it.”Taehyung raised his head. “I’m sorry, Hyung. Please don’t be mad at me.” His voice shook.Taehyung’s wide, glassy eyes startled Yoongi as it did me.When Taehyung was a teenager, his carefree and uninhibited nature, paired with his penchant for pranks, meant that he got into trouble more frequently than the rest of us. When the trouble was trivial, like accidentally dropping Hoseok’s shoe in a puddle of mud, he put on his widest, most innocent smile and raised his fingers to the sky, promising that he wouldn’t do it again. When the trouble was severe, like how he had incurred criticisms for his behaviour at our fan signs, he apologised sincerely to all of us and vowed to become better, his voice somber and his voice determined.Taehyung apologising after getting into trouble wasn’t new. Yoongi and I shouldn’t be bewildered, but we were, because Taehyung had never looked so distressed, so…stricken.Yoongi softened with concern. “I…I’m not mad at you.”Taehyung didn’t seem to hear. He rocked himself, his voice a whisper as he repeated the same words over and over again. “I won’t do it again. I promise. Please don’t be angry with me. Please.”“Taehyungie, did you hear me?” Yoongi stepped forward. “I said I’m not angry with you.” He laid a land on Taehyung’s shoulder.Taehyung flinched violently at the contact. He lifted an arm to swat Yoongi’s hand away, but Yoongi tightened his grip.“Hey, hey, little guy,” Yoongi cooed, using the fond moniker he reserved for Taehyung, “calm down there. Breathe easy.”Taehyung’s chest quaked with heavy breaths. He stared at Yoongi, uncomprehending at first. Then, degree by degree, focus slipped back into his eyes.“Hyung,” Taehyung cried.“Yes, yes, Hyung’s here,” Yoongi sank down next to Taehyung and peered into his face. “Are you okay? Can you breathe? Do you need me to get Jin Hyung?”Taehyung shook his head. His breathing evened gradually. Yoongi released a breath I doubted he knew he’d been holding.“I’m sorry, Hyung. I really am. Last night—”Before Taehyung could work himself up to a near panic attack again, Yoongi interrupted.“I am not angry with you, Taehyung,” he said again, emphasising every syllable. “I was just worried. We all were. You don’t even cross the road properly when you’re sober. How can I trust you to do so when you’re drunk?” He teased.Taehyung scrubbed at his eyes like a child. “I won’t drink anymore.”A corner of Yoongi’s lips lifted. “You and Jimin are indeed soulmates, aren’t you. He said the same thing.”Taehyung broke into a small, feeble smile. “I’ll make sure he keeps his promise.”“I’ll hold you to your word.” Yoongi ruffled Taehyung’s hair affectionately and got to his feet. “Shall we head out before Jin Hyung screams for us?”Taehyung nodded, throwing his covers aside and swinging his legs off his bed. “Jin Hyung’s screams make my head and ears hurt,” he mumbled to himself.“They do the same to mine too,” Yoongi agreed, “but the last thing we do is tell him that.”Throughout the rest of the day, unbeknownst to anyone, Yoongi kept a concerned eye on Taehyung.::::::::::Jimin didn't rest after he’d gone back to his room. He sat on his bed and glowered into space, his Chimmy cushion squashed between his arms so that it was difficult to tell where the eyes begin and where the nose ended. If eyes wielded destruction, the wall and the desk opposite Jimin’s bed would have been incinerated to ash.Three knocks sounded and the door opened to reveal Jungkook.“Go away,” Jimin muttered mulishly. “I don't need another lecture.”Jungkook came into the room, unafraid, parsing from Jimin’s body language that Jimin’d somewhat calmed down, his explosive indignation having quelled into stubborn sulkiness.“I'm just here to check if you’re okay,” Jungkook said. “How are you feeling?”As I watched him sit down on Hoseok’s neatly made bed, I briefly wondered about Hoseok. Would he come back tonight? If he did, would he patch things with Jimin or would he choose to let slamming doors, cupboards, and drawers do the talking?Fans knew that Hoseok and Jimin were the scariest when angry. They were right, but they didn’t know that ‘scary’ was a gross understatement when both of them were angry at each other. It was incredibly rare, but when it happened, the rest always steered clear to prevent being sacrificed as collateral damage.“As splendid as one’d be with a hell of a hangover,” Jimin uttered, a thin edge serrating his voice. “Drop your act. Go ahead and yell at me. Go on.”“What reason would I have to do that?”“Oh, I forgot.” Jimin’s lips twisted into derisive smile, a sardonic light flashing in his eyes. “Hobi Hyung’d already done a pretty good job on behalf of all of you, haven’t he?”Jungkook frowned. “Hyung, stop talking like this. If it isn’t clear, I’m not angry with you.”“That’s what you tell yourself.”“Honestly, I am not mad.” Jungkook pushed his legs out before him and crossed them at the ankles. He leaned back on his arms. “Confused, maybe. But definitely not angry. Besides if you can forgive me for what I did before,” he shrugged a little uncomfortably, “I can forgive you too.”“Anger and forgiveness aren’t mutually exclusive. You can be angry and still forgive me. What I did affected Bangtan and you’re part of Bangtan. You have every right to be mad.” Jimin spoke with an insistence.“But I don’t want to.” Jungkook’s face was open and honest. “I love you too much to do that.”The words caught Jimin off-guard. He looked away in a fluster, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. His face was still set in a scowl, but it was more childlike than murderous.“Great job at making me feel worse,” he grumbled. There was a pause in which I sensed him hesitating. When he spoke again, he sounded sorry, the bite in his voice gone. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into the argument just now. It was low of me. I was just so frustrated and I didn’t want to deal with Hobi Hyung and before I knew it, all sorts of words were flying out of my mouth.”“It’s okay,” Jungkook said.Jimin shook his head, then pressed a quick hand to his forehead as though the action had triggered his headache.“It’s not,” he whispered fiercely, “I hurt you. Fuck, I think I hurt everyone.”Jungkook reached over the gap between the beds to put a comforting hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Hyung, we all make mistakes.”“But why am I always the one who make mistakes like these, mistakes that endangered Bangtan?” Jimin’s voice fractured. When Jungkook made to reply, Jimin stopped him. “You know it’s true, Jungkook. No one jeopardises Bangtan like I do. Like that time I wore that controversial shirt. And if…” Jimin swallowed fearfully, “if something happens to Bangtan because some paparazzi has caught wind of what I did, I won’t be able to live with myself.”My suspicions were confirmed. I had thought the reason Jimin had exploded in the kitchen was because he was furious and frustrated at himself. “I don’t even understand why I did that. I entered the bar thinking it was a good idea because I was bored and neither Yoongi Hyung nor Hobi Hyung wanted to work last night. I drank one glass and it felt good. Then I drank another and another. I couldn’t stop myself.”I could tell that the confession shocked and concerned Jungkook. He didn’t remove his hand from Jimin’s shoulder, but he looked unsure. He was spared from replying when succession of timid knocks rapped upon the door.It opened, and there Taehyung was. He looked surprised to see Jungkook.“Hey, Hyung,” Jungkook greeted, his smile reassuring.“Hey,” Taehyung mumbled in return, his eyes fluttering away from Jungkook’s in shame. He looked at Jimin instead. “Jin Hyung made us some miso soup.”Jimin took in the Taehyung’s slumped and guilty shoulders, the downtick of his lips, the general air of desiring to lock himself up so that he did not have to look at the disappointed faces of others.Jimin made a sound of tired frustration. “I got you into trouble.”Taehyung shook his head. “I got myself into trouble.”“I forced him to go with me.” Jimin deadpanned to Jungkook.“Well…” Jungkook began awkwardly.“Nothing of that sort,” Taehyung interrupted. Jungkook whipped his head to Taehyung. “I went with him willingly. I’m big and he’s small. He couldn’t have forced me.”“He tried to stop me when I was on my third glass of Tequila on rocks.” Jimin ignored Taehyung and went on, Jungkook whipping his head back to Jimin. “I got mad and told him that if he wasn’t going to drink with me he should leave.”“Did you?” Taehyung said. “I don’t remember.”“Luckily I do,” Jimin rebutted plainly.“A one-sided account can’t be—”“Woah, stop for a minute please. You guys are giving me a whiplash.” Jungkook held up two halting hands, one for Jimin and the other for Taehyung. “Do you want me to be a judge or something? Because you have wait a decade for that to happen. At the very least I need to get my law degree first.”Jimin frowned. “Why do you need that long? A law degree takes only four years.”“Because I need to finish high school properly first,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. “And I’m not the brightest apple in the basket. You need to give me some room to fail and retake the modules. Honestly, ten years is pushing it.”Jimin laughed despite himself. Taehyung cracked a faint smile, dispelling a fraction of the gloominess that surrounded him. Jungkook looked proud of himself.“The point is,” Jimin lifted his eyes to look at Taehyung, “I was a horrible friend last night and I’m sorry. Would you forgive me?”Taehyung did not reply immediately. Something slipped across his face, seemed to make his eyes dimmer and sadder. Then it was gone, and he was smiling at Jimin.“I’m not in the place to forgive anybody,” his smile wavered a little, “but if it makes you feel better, I will.”
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimin and Taehyung were summoned to the company and given a good talking to. Bang PD did not raise his voice, only professed his disappointment in a weary voice. Standing across from the glass desk in Bang PD office, Jimin looked Bang PD in the eye and swore that the same thing would not happen again. Taehyung was silent next to him, shame hanging his head low.Thankfully Bang PD’s disappointment was the worst they had to deal with.Other than the reporter who had alerted Sejin Hyung to Jimin and Taehyung’s shenanigans, it seemed like no other media were present at the bar that night. Newspaper and website headlines in the few days that followed reported nothing of the sort, and no journalists approached the company with the insinuation that incriminating photos of Jimin and Taehyung would be leaked if their news agency were not given exclusive photoshoots of Big Hit’s artistes or firsthand access to breaking news.The bullet had grazed — I could almost hear its whizz and smell the tang of gunpowder — but we had dodged it. Bangtan, in the eyes of public, was still faultless and exemplary. The relief of it quelled Hoseok’s and Jimin’s anger like damp wool would a flame. Words of apology were exchanged and accepted, and Hoseok and Jimin moved on. Things seemed to go back to normal.
Seemed.
Jimin kept his word and stayed away from alcohol, but he buried himself deeper into work. He was the first to leave the house and the last to return. As his working hours lengthened, his temper shortened. The things that had never used to irritate him began to, and the things that he'd once tolerated set him off. In the way that seemed to verify that we often show the nastiest bits of ourselves to the people whom we are closest to, the most jagged end of Jimin’s temper pointed at Taehyung.Jimin’s impatience and displeasure toward Taehyung became increasingly obvious. Frowns over Taehyung’s loud chews progressed into unhidden tsks. What used to be under-the-breath grumbling over the shoes Taehyung’d left lying around the entryway became harsh annoyance and the unrelenting demand that Taehyung come and return his shoes to the cupboard, no matter that Taehyung had already gone to bed.Close and affectionate as they were, quarrels were not all that rare between Jimin and Taehyung. They clashed when they thought the other was being unreasonable, their voices matching each other decibel for decibel until one of the hyungs had to tell them to shut up because the din was hurting their ears.But Taehyung seemed to have lost that bit of fieriness. He responded to Jimin’s mood swings with obedience. He stopped smacking his lips or licking his fingers when he ate, and he made sure to put his shoes away. That only seemed to encourage Jimin, made him even more irritable and domineering. On the surface Taehyung was unbothered. But every time Jimin turned away after another tantrum, the patient smile Taehyung wore became weary and uncertain.Neither Jimin nor Taehyung were like themselves. I didn’t know whom I should worry about more.The hyungs and Jungkook caught on. They were confused at first. Then they started to share grim looks with each other as Taehyung seemed to grow smaller and more afraid in Jimin’s presence. But they didn’t interfere until Jin finally broke his silence one night and called Jimin out on his attitude.The members had ordered takeout from a Chinese restaurant for supper. Jin, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook were gathered around the dining table, removing the plastic wraps from bowls of jajangmyeon and jjamppong and setting them on the table.“Where are the extra pickled radishes?” Jimin asked loudly. He looked at Taehyung, who had made the order that night.Taehyung’s mouth parted in horror.“I told you to get at least three extra servings,” Jimin deadpanned.“Sorry I forgot,” Taehyung said hurriedly. I thought I heard a stammer.Jimin crushed the empty takeout bag. “Such a simple thing and you can’t even do it right,” he muttered.The air froze. Jin snapped his head up in Jimin’s direction and shot the younger a stern glare. Jungkook was stunned. The hand that Taehyung’d wrapped around the bundle of chopsticks he'd been laying out tightened. His head dipped and his fringe swept across his forehead.Jimin seemed to have finally realised that he had crossed the line. “I didn’t mean—”His sentence was cut off when Taehyung raised his head and gave Jimin a bright smile that curved his eyes. It was too perfect to be real.“I’ll just pop over to the mart to get some.”“C’mon, Taehyung, it’s late,” Jin said. “I'm sure Jimin can do without extra radishes for one supper, right?”Jimin said nothing. His eyes cast downward, blinking rapidly, as if he was still reeling in disbelief over the cruelty that had passed his own lips.“I think we have some left over from the other day,” Jungkook contributed uncertainly. He made for the fridge but Taehyung stopped him.“No, no, it's okay. I’ll head over to the mart. It's been a while since I’ve last gone there anyway and I think the ahjumma misses me and some fresh air will be good for me.” Taehyung backed frantically away from the dining table as he babbled nonsense. I had the sense that he wanted to escape. “I won't take long. Go ahead and start without me.”Taehyung ducked out from sight before Jin could get another word in. The front door opened and closed.Jin looked at Jimin, his gaze hard. “That was absolutely uncalled for.”Jimin pursed his lips.Footsteps and a pair of voices engaged in a discussion neared the dining table. Yoongi and Hoseok appeared the next moment. Hoseok’s face lit up at the sight of the food.“Tangsuyuk!” He chirped. He pulled a chair away from the table, about to settle in when he belatedly noticed the tension between Jin and Jimin. It gave him pause. Confusion knitted his brows together. “What’s going on?” He looked around the table. “Where’s Taehyung? I thought I heard him.”When no one replied, his eyes sought out Jungkook, as did Yoongi’s. The maknae darted a glance at Jimin and gave a subtle shake of his head, guilt shading his face as if he had just sold a friend out.Jin ignored them. He was not done with Jimin.“You crossed the line. You know nothing hurts Taehyung more than being belittled yet you still did that. You’re not in the best of the moods recently, we get it. But Taehyung’s not your punching bag. Don’t go taking it out on him.”Jimin didn’t look up. His arms were stiff by his sides. He looked like a teenager who was regretting his rebellious ways, but couldn’t quite bring himself to apologise because pride still hindered.The interactions between Koreans are often dictated by age. The older enjoy a measure of automatic respect from the younger, and it isn’t rare to see juniors deferring to the seniors in decisions big or small. Being the oldest in the group, Jin had exclusive power. He could demand more respect from everyone or settle naturally into an authoritative role, and nobody would blink an eye because that was how deeply age-based hierarchies are ingrained in our culture.But Jin valued harmony over authority. He relinquished the latter, humbled himself and goofed around with the maknae line instead. He preferred to leave the lecturing to other members. Any emotional outbursts he displayed were often comedic in nature, meant to entertain or to puncture tension in the atmosphere. So on the rare occasions that Jin got truly mad and allowed his voice to assume an edge, we listened, whether we were the witness or target of his righteous fury.At this moment no one else spoke. Hoseok’s eyebrows pinched in a disturbed frown. Yoongi watched but his expression was unreadable. Jungkook looked at his toes.“When Taehyung comes back, I trust that you will apologise to him,” Jin said. “I’m sure it’s not your intention to push him away, but if you continue widening the rift between you and him, one day you might just find him leaving without so much a backward glance.”Jimin’s hand jerked.Out of everything Jin had said, it was probably the last that struck Jimin the most.::::::::::“Taehyungie.”At the desk, Taehyung raised his head from the notebook he was drawing in. He startled when he saw Jimin at his door. His pencil slipped out of his fingers and clattered to the floor. His eyes shivered anxiously in their sockets, as though he was rummaging his memory, trying to recall what he’d done this time to make Jimin mad again.Jimin forced a smile to mask his regret. He stepped toward the desk, hunkered down and retrieved Taehyung’s pencil from the floor. He remained on his knee as he pressed the pencil into Taehyung’s hand. He glanced at the notebook. It was splayed open to a half-finished sketch of what looked like a hybrid between a tree and a fish.“You should turn on the lights, you know,” Jimin said. His voice was light, the barbs sloughed off. “Haven’t I told you many times it’s bad for your eyes to draw in the dim?”In the room, only the lava lamp on the desk was switched on. Lazy globules fused and separated bewitchingly in the heavy liquid.“Sorry,” Taehyung sputtered immediately, even though Jimin hadn’t sounded irritated at all.Jimin’s face fell. “I’m the one who should apologise.”Taehyung tilted his head sideways in a question.Jimin angled his chin up, connecting his eyes with Taehyung’s. “I haven’t been nice to you lately.”Taehyung only looked more confused. “B-but it’s not entirely your fault… It’s because I annoy you. It’s…” His eyes cast downward. “It’s because I’m not good enough.”The way Taehyung said it, it was as though he truly believed that to be true.Jimin bit his lips, but still they wobbled. He lifted an arm and cupped Taehyung’s cheek with a tender hand.“Taehyungie, you’re kind, funny and smart, the best friend anyone could ask for. I'm sorry that I made you think otherwise. If there's anyone who's not good enough, it's me. I’m sorry. I know sorry probably doesn't cut it unless I change. I don't know what's wrong with me either but I promise you I'll figure it out. But in the meantime could you forgive me and stick by my side?”In the lamplight, Jimin’s eyes glimmered with hopeful sincerity. For a long time, Taehyung did not reply. A shred of dread bled into Jimin’s face, and his hand fell back to his side.Jimin bowed his head. His lips curled in self-deprecation. “Who am I to—”But Taehyung bent forward, wrapped his arms around Jimin. Jimin froze, his words dying in a shocked silence.That was enough a promise than words could ever be.Jimin relaxed in Taehyung’s hold. His hands reached up and latched behind Taehyung’s back.“Thank you,” Jimin whispered.He pressed his forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder. I couldn't see his face, but his shoulders trembled.
TBC
::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
On the night Jimin turned to alcohol again, it was Yoongi who found him.Yoongi slid the glass door open and stepped out onto the balcony, shoulders curling in a little from the chill of the early autumn night. On the bench next to the rack of potted plants was Jimin, shivering ever slightly in his thin tee and shorts.“Shouldn't you be asleep?” Yoongi said. His eyes lingered briefly on the half-filled wine glass and the uncorked bottle of red wine next to Jimin, but he did not comment. Neither did his face betray disapproval.I was glad that it was Yoongi who came across Jimin on his way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Hoseok would've erupted, Jungkook would've panicked, and Taehyung would perhaps have gone to get another glass, if his recent behaviour was any clue. I didn't think Jimin needed any of those. He needed someone calm, someone who withheld judgement, someone like Yoongi.Jimin’s eyes flickered up to Yoongi. “Hyung,” he said. A weary smile curved his lips. He didn't look shocked or guilty to be caught in the act, only resigned, as though he was tired of hiding. “Maybe soon,” he continued, answering Yoongi’s earlier question. “Just need to get enough alcohol in my system so that I fall asleep the instant my head hits the pillow.”Jimin said it like it was a joke, but Yoongi did not crack a smile. Jimin picked the wine glass by its stem. As he tilted his head back and took a huge gulp, a look of self-loathing crossed his face. He swallowed with difficulty.Yoongi sat down next to Jimin. It seemed like there was a blackout that night. The street lamps and footlights in the park below were strangely unlit. Only the outlines of trees were visible. The darkness enhanced the generous dusting of stars across the plum-purple sky.“I don't think I deserve to be Taehyung’s fried,” Jimin said suddenly, staring a little cross-eyed at the wine glass in his hand, “much less best friend or soulmate.”Yoongi, not prone to prying into people’s businesses or making hasty judgements, only replied, “That's for Taehyung to decide.”“I don't think I deserve to be in Bangtan either.”“Again, that's not up to you.”Jimin shook his head slowly. He rolled the spindly stem between his fingers, and the wine swirled up the sides of the glass.“Soon all of you won't want me in the group. I'm on my way to becoming an alcoholic. Red wine isn't good enough anymore. I need something stronger.” Jimin gave Yoongi a lopsided smile. “I'm ruined, Hyung.”The hopelessness and resignation on Jimin’s face was difficult to behold. Jimin, who was always bright and lovely and brimming with positivity and encouragement for others. But Yoongi didn't look away.“It doesn't have to be this way,” he murmured.Jimin chuckled. He took another swig of the wine, then picked up the bottle and refilled the glass.“You speak like I've got a choice.”“Of course you do.”Jimin chuckled again, but this time his eyes glistened. “I can’t sleep if I don’t drink, and if I don't sleep, I get all pissy with Taehyung the next morning. I rather get wasted than to blow up on Taehyung. I promised him not to do that again, you know? But now that I look at it, I'm heading toward the same destruction no matter what.” He tipped his head back and opened his eyes as wide as they would go, as if he was trying to stop his tears from spilling over. “I'm going to lose Taehyung either way.”Yoongi did not comment on that. Instead he asked, “Why can't you sleep if you don't drink?”There was a pause in which Jimin hesitated. Then the same weary smile crept over his lips, and he relinquished the truth into the waiting silence so that someone else could finally share his burden.“Namjoon Hyung.”I was not surprised. By the looks of it, neither was Yoongi. Still, having Jimin confirm what we had suspected still roused in me a cloying guilt.Me, everything boiled down to me.“Because when I drink enough my mind gets all fuzzy and I don't think of him,” Jimin said softly.“And why do you not want to think of him?” Yoongi asked.Jimin looked like he couldn't quite believe the obvious question.“Because it hurts. So bloody much. Here.” Jimin clutched a hand over the left side of his chest, creasing the cloth there. “It's the worst before bed, when there’s nothing left for me to do and all’s quiet and my mind’s free to chase after questions I haven't had the time for in the day. What did he think of in the last moments of his life? Did he blame us for not catching his fall in time? Is he happy where he is now? Or is he simply gone without a shred of his soul left in this universe?” Jimin gasped, catching a shuddering breath. The wine glass nearly slipped out of his fingers. “The worst is not all these endless questions. It's the pain that comes afterward, when you realise that there are some answers you'll never get because you're yelling all these questions into a void.”Jimin took another aggressive drag of the alcohol.Yoongi waited until Jimin'd swallowed. “So you decided to block Namjoon out.”“So I did.”“You're running away from your grief,” Yoongi stated.“It's easier that way.”“Probably,” Yoongi shrugged, “but certainly not fairer. Don't you think Namjoon deserves to be more than a suppressed memory to be willed away?”Frustration embroidered Jimin’s voice. “You don't understand how scary it is to give in.”Yoongi wrought a wry smile. “Do I not?”Jimin stared at Yoongi, then blinked away when he realized he’d said the wrong thing. He made to speak but Yoongi shook his head to show that he didn't mind.“You’re right, Jimin.” Yoongi looked away from Jimin and up at the night sky. “Grief is a scary thing. Maneuvering through it is like being thrown into a maze blindfolded.” His voice had dropped into a slow murmur, as if recounting a faraway anecdote. “You bruise and batter yourself because you collide into dead end after dead end. You scream, but nobody hears you because all you have for a companion are memories that wouldn't shut up.”Yoongi paused. His gaze slid back to Jimin. “But gradually the maze and its shadows stop scaring you as much. You begin to understand that you could do this, could get out of it, one step at a time. Memories still hurt, but you begin to see past the pain and appreciate their beauty, and you realise that you'll be okay after all.”“I’m not you, Hyung.” Jimin’s voice frayed. He sounded like he was holding back a sob.“You aren’t,” Yoongi agreed. “You’re a better and stronger person than I am. You believed in me when I was struggling to come to terms with Namjoon’s death. It’s time for you to show the same faith in yourself. Process your grief, Jimin. Become better for it.”“What if I’m not the same person after that?” Jimin whispered fearfully.The alcohol was probably racking up in his bloodstream and exerting its effect. He was not yet intoxicated, but neither was he sober enough to realised the apparent flaw in his logic. Even if he decided not to confront his grief, he wouldn’t remain unchanged. He’d drink his way to becoming an alcoholic. But Yoongi didn’t point that out.“Here’s the thing,” he said, gently taking the wine glass from Jimin’s unresisting fingers and setting it aside, “no one’s expecting you to be.”Jimin didn’t reply. He folded his legs up and dug his heels against the edge of the bench. He wrapped his arms around his knees and curled into himself, his face lowered. He looked like he was shielding his body from the chilly breeze sweeping into the balcony.But I thought he was holding the fracturing pieces of himself together so that he wouldn’t fall completely apart.::::::::::The members of Bangtan weren't the best at dealing with grief. After my death, Jin questioned his self-worth to the point of wondering if he should have been the one to die instead. Yoongi became so blinded to anger and hatred that he nearly sacrificed everything he had worked for. Jungkook drifted like a dinghy in an ocean, lost and certain that the only way for him to find his path again was to cut himself loose from the very people who had anchored him for the past eight years.I thought I could understand why Jimin rather seal his grief away and let it fester destructively in the background than embracing and learning how to live with it. The process of the latter held too many risks.Jimin had always been astute to the changes in the members’ energy and emotions. He was often the first to detect when someone was feeling low, the first to reach out, and the first to offer words of encouragement or advice. He knew exactly what to do for each member: planting a kiss on Taehyung’s forehead, collecting Jungkook into a hug, but only resting a hand on the shoulder when it came to Yoongi because he knew that the elder wasn't the biggest fan of skinship.Despite being one of the youngest in the team, Jimin was wise, mature and empathetic. When troubles weighed us down, we went to him. We counted on him to listen and make us feel better. He became the undisputed pillar of support of Bangtan, a role he filled with joy and pride.And that was why he was afraid to face his grief. He was afraid that grief would yank him under like it had done to the members before him, afraid that it would drag him so far under that he could no longer be the person Bangtan needed him to be, afraid of finally putting his own needs above others’.But he deserved to be vulnerable too, to let himself fall apart so that a stronger and better him could be pieced together.I made my fourth wish.::::::::::The next morning the Bangtan household woke to a scribbled note on the dining table:
I have gone to fix myself. I'll be okay. Don't look for me.
-Jimin
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
On the morning he left the dorm, Jimin rented a car and headed up the highway to Ilsan. I thought I had an idea where he might be going, but he proved me wrong when he drove past the exit that would bring him to my family home. He continued further on. Beyond the car window, high-rise buildings gave way to lower houses and denser trees.I startled when he pulled out of the highway fifteen minutes later.
You can't possibly be going there…can you?
Of course he could.In hindsight I shouldn't have been surprised. When I made my wish last night, I wanted Jimin to face his grief and loss bravely. It made sense that he would visit my final resting place. But there was something too head-on and aggressive about it that made me uncomfortable.A sudden fear seized me. All the wishes I'd made so far had worked, but what if this was the time I failed?A few more turns and Jimin arrived. He parked and sat in his car long enough that I thought he would change his mind, but he got out eventually.Towering trees surrounded the grounds, blocking out the sun and dampening the noises of the highway traffic. Insects chittered softly in the background. A deep sense of peace permeated the air, and I felt like I was in a sanctuary. It eased me a little.There was a chapel to the left and an office to the right, but Jimin followed the stone pavement that led to the building in the middle. He climbed the steps to the columbarium, where neat white shelves of glass niches housed the ashes of the deceased.Jimin seemed to know where to find me, or rather, what remained of me in the physical world. His steps were sure. As far as I knew, none of the members had been here before. Had Jimin contacted my family to find out the number of my niche, or was it something he magically knew courtesy of my wish?The niche that my family had chosen for me was in a shelf nearer to the back entrance, fourth row from the bottom, at eye level. Behind the glass was the urn that contained my ashes, and next to the urn were a framed photo of me, an unwrapped copy of You’ll Never Walk Alone, and colourful paper animals which I knew were folded by my sister, who had a flair for origami. This was it, twenty-seven years of my life culminating in an 11 by 12 inch glass cabinet.When I was still alive, I had thought in rare moments of boredom about how I wanted my body to be handled when I died. I wanted to be cremated rather than buried, and I wanted my ashes to be scattered in the sea, where pieces of me were free to go wherever I desired. Because what is death, if not the liberation from the responsibilities that shackled you? However I had never told my parents what I wanted. It was frowned upon for young people to discuss matters of their death with their elders, because in the natural order of things, elders were supposed to pass on first and thus had no reason listening to the younger generation talk about how they wanted their funerals and whatnot to be done. Talking about it was unfilial and believed to bring about bad luck.But now I wondered if I had put my parents in greater agony. I imagined the ache that pounded under their ribcage as they were shown the available niches, as they selected the cream-coloured urn, as they discussed what else should be put alongside it, as they chose the photo that best represented me, as they decided which BTS album was my favourite (they were right). They wouldn’t have to do any of these had they just taken my ashes to the sea. Then again, maybe they would have ignored my wishes even if they had known because they needed a place where they could visit the son they would never ever be ready to let go.If they knew I was still lingering in the mortal world but had chosen to stick by my members’ side instead of theirs, would they resent me? Or would they understand that I had to do this?I squeezed my thoughts away and came back to the moment. It was no good mulling over questions like these.Jimin stood before my niche, his face too calm. I looked for signs that he was finally giving in to his grief, a tremble of the lip, a wobble in the throat, or a quiver in the eyes. But all I found on his expression was an odd curiosity. I was confused at first, until I realised his attention was not on my niche. His head was turned slightly to the left and his eyes on the niche next to mine instead.That niche was bigger, with three urns inside. The urn in the middle was about the same size as mine, but the two on the sides were much smaller. Like in mine, the niche contained a framed photo. It looked like it was taken at a theme park. A family of four sat before a fountain, with the children — a boy and a girl — on their parents’ laps. All of them were beaming so brilliantly that I had to look away because I knew how their story ended. Other than the photo, the cabinet also held a few toy cars, a miniature bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and a threadbare pink bunny doll with floppy ears.“I lost them in a car accident.”Jimin jumped. He spun around and came face to face with a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. Her slender frame leaned heavily on a walking cane. Jimin’s eyes widened when he realised that she was the mother in the photo, though older, her once raven hair streaked with silver.Jimin dipped his head in embarrassment and apology. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't be staring.”She shook her head and smiled.“You’re not the first.” Her cane clacked twice against the floor as she took two steps forward and fell in line with Jimin. “People are always curious. After all it's not every day that they come across a tragedy like this. I could always sense their urge to ask what happened and I realised I don't mind telling them if it meant they’d drive more carefully on their way back.”She squinted, then pulled her cardigan sleeve halfway down her palm and bent forward to erase a smudge on the glass of her family’s niche.“I lost a very good friend five months ago,” Jimin offered in the way people often felt obliged to share something about themselves in return when told something personal.She looked at my niche. If my photo and the album had struck a chord of familiarity, she did not show.“I’m very sorry to hear that.”He shrugged. “I don't know. Most of the time it doesn't feel like he's gone. When I don't think about it, it just feels like he's away on a long holiday or cooping himself in his room for a particularly long time because he's a poet and that's what poets do. I think. Other times his absence really hits me, like a punch in the gut. It's the difference between the two that's so…” He struggled to find the appropriate word.“Disorienting?” She suggested.“Disorienting,” he agreed. “Yes.”“It’ll get better.”Jimin fell into a hesitant silence. “But I feel like I'd go crazy before that happens,” he admitted quietly, “Thinking about him, missing him, all those things… They drive me crazy.”She nodded and said, “The kind of crazy you don't think you can return from.” She laughed a little when she caught Jimin staring at her in bewilderment, as though no one else before her had been able to empathise with him so accurately. “Believe me, I would know.”She turned her attention back to the three urns before her. On her face I read love, longing, regret and sorrow, but more strikingly, I read the peace and strength of a woman who had come to terms with all of that.“I went back to work immediately after the funeral, never mind that the doctor told me I should at least wait till my leg healed more. I thought that was what it meant to be strong, getting back to my usual routine and all that. I stopped thinking of them too much. What was the point now that they were gone? I had always been known as the calm and collected one, the one who never let her emotions get the better of her or stop her from doing what needs to be done. Now that I look at it, I behaved that way because I thought that was what was expected of me.”She paused. Jimin waited.“Then it all came crashing down. I still remember the day it happened. It was raining and the ground was wet. I was on my way home from the grocery and I slipped. Couldn't pick myself up because of my bad leg.” She nodded toward her right leg. “I sat there for a long time, so frustrated with myself that I started crying. By the time the rain stopped, I didn't know exactly what I was crying over. Everything, I supposed.”A caretaker appeared around the corner, carrying a mop and a pail of water. Jimin waited until he was out of earshot.“Did you feel better after that?” Jimin asked.She shook her head. “Far from that. I was a complete wreck in the few months that followed. I could hardly get out of bed, and I couldn't complete a few sentences without breaking into a sob. I lost my job and I started living on insurance payout, something I used to think was beneath me to do.”A beat of quiet slipped between them, as if she had passed the conversation baton to Jimin. He only looked deep in thought.She broke into a small chuckle. “I'm becoming such a long-winded old lady. Am I boring you?”Jimin snapped back to the moment. A light blush surfaced in his cheeks. “No, no, of course not.”“I don't usually go around telling people my experience with grief. But when I saw you, I felt like I needed to share with you.”“What do you mean?”“I don't know.” She rolled her shoulders. “A feeling I guess. A force tugging at me, if that makes sense. I saw parts of myself in you. Before you misunderstand, I don't mean the wrinkles or the grey hair.”Jimin laughed, the bell-like quality of the sound surprising my ears. I realised I'd stopped hearing it much these days.A bird landed on the marble banister that encircled the columbarium. It chirped and hopped cheerily along the veined surface, out of place in the sombre setting.“I don't know about that.” As Jimin spoke, he looked at the bird. He had grown serious again. “You look so steady, like you'd left your grief behind. It makes me feel ashamed.”“Why would you feel that way?”Jimin's eyes flickered involuntarily to her family niche, then darted away in a fluster. A knowing smile stole across her lips.“Because I lost three people and you only lost one?”He didn't reply, but the answer was clear.“Grief isn't relative.” She stacked her hands on her cane and stood a little straighter. “It doesn't matter how many people you lose. One, three or ten. Grief is grief. Don't be unfair on yourself.”“I don't think I could ever be like you.”“Why do you think you have to be? Moving on means different things — different processes and different endpoints — for different people. You do what you need.”Jimin hesitated. “Somehow I know what needs to be done, but that doesn't make it any less scary.” For the first time that day, his impassive mask cracked, revealing the vulnerability and fear that dwelled beneath. “I don't know if I'll ever find my way out if I let myself fall into the hollow he’d left behind.”“You will,” she said softly.She looked past his shoulder. Jimin followed her line of sight, to the courtyard outside. A Shiba Inu had its leash looped around one of the lamp posts. The dog, listlessly sprawled on the pavement just a second ago, seemed to sense their attention. Its ears flipped up and it rose eagerly on his haunches, his tail thumping against the ground.The woman made a small gesture and the dog shifted impatiently on its paws, looking like it demanded all its discipline not to dash forward and leap into its owner’s arms. I could almost hear it whining.“You will.” The woman looked back at Jimin. Her voice was firm, her face shone with love and her eyes seemed to twinkle. “If you have enough reason.”::::::::::The holiday house on the knoll loomed into view half an hour after Jimin drove into Gapyeong. I knew the house. It was the one our staff had rented for a couple episodes of Run BTS. It was also the one we stayed at for the Bangtan-only getaway Taehyung’d organised two years ago.The owner was waiting at the top of the stairs when Jimin pulled into the driveway. He exchanged a few pleasantries with Jimin, handed him the keys, and left. He didn't ask where the other members were.After the owner’d made his leave, Jimin unlocked the front door and went in. He edged past the dining table and came to the living room, where his steps slowed before stopping all together.The layout was exactly the same: three couches arranged around an wooden coffee table. The same Karaoke machine stood next to the TV, and the bottom-left cubby of the console held a stack of familiar games. The white floor gleamed in the late-afternoon light.Nothing much had changed.Everything had changed.The two-story space was too empty, too quiet.There was no crew bustling about to set up filming equipment. There were no makeup artistes prancing forward at a moment’s notice to fix a wayward hair.There was no Jin cracking up in maniacal laughter after sharing an awful dad joke.There was no Yoongi to badger and no Hoseok to break into random dances with.There was no Taehyung or Jungkook to fuss over.There was no me to talk to when he needed a little of quiet from the noise going on in the rest of the house.For the first time in a long while, Jimin was truly alone.::::::::::The vacation that Taehyung'd planned had been memorable, though it hadn't been entirely comfortable. It was on this trip that we had devised and employed the Bangtan way of roommate selection where, one by one, members would go into the room of their choice without knowing which rooms the members before them had chosen. If they chose the same room, congratulations, they’d be roommates for the rest of the trip. What had seemed like an ingenious and entertaining method in beginning turned into a horror when the Hyung line and Jungkook ended up sharing the smallest room in the holiday house because we’d thought that no one else would want that room on account of its size. We shared the room for three nights. Yoongi was grumpy for two. Jin still complained about it whenever he got the chance.It was this room that Jimin settled. He went to bed early that night.He didn’t get up when the next morning came. At first I thought that he was simply catching up on his sleep, but I realised I was wrong when the glare of the midday sun sharpened into the room and illuminated his face.I didn't know how long he'd been awake. Maybe he hadn't slept at all. His eyes were open, glazed and devoid of emotions. The last face on which I had seen such an expression of detachment was on Yoongi’s. That time, we witnessed how Yoongi had wielded destruction unto himself and others as loss consumed him. Dread pinched at me.Then I remembered Yoongi’s words and his belief that Jimin was strong and would emerge from his grief, even if it meant clawing his way out.I could only have faith that like the three times before, my wish would work.::::::::::In one of the rooms back stage, all seven members of Bangtan sat in a reflective circle. The atmosphere was tense. Hoseok looked murderous. Yoongi had his fingers steepled before his lips , his jaw tight . Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they wanted nothing more than to turn back time. Jimin had his head in his hands as he stared at the floor. Jin watched all of them carefully.
“Our performance wasn't up to expectations,” Namjoon began, breaking the silence.
That was putting it kindly.
For a group so used to flooring the audience, their stage at the award show, which was broadcast live Korea-wide, had been pathetically lacklustre .It was a guarantee that a heated discussion among netizens would follow , if it wasn’t happening already. Some of their fans would turn a blind eye and still gush over their performance, becoming defensive if anyone dared say a bad word. Other fans, the more levelheaded ones, would express their disappointment but they would also understand that Bangtan was bound to be exhausted from an unrelenting schedule. Then there were haters who'd pounce at this opportunity to sneer and discredit them.But few would know that their moves went out of sync was because the sound system glitched. Even fewer would know that the vocals went off-key because the in-ear monitors were faulty. They could explain, but that would just come across as giving excuses.
“I'm so fucking furious right now,” Hoseok said. “I already told them that they needed to get their system checked. If someone had done their fucking job this wouldn't have happened.”
“Not now, Hobi,” Namjoon said, darting a quick look at Taehyung and Jungkook. “Let’s not pinpoint who's at fault here. It doesn't change the fact that we screwed up. We’ll pay more attention during rehearsals from now on and make sure that all our requests are clearly and firmly communicated. We'll learn from this and move forward , all right? We still have a few more award shows to go . Don't let this hold us back. Can we do that for ourselves?”
Namjoon looked around the circle. Everyone nodded with varying degrees of willingness. Everyone except Jimin.
“Jimin, you all right there?”
Jimin jolted . “S-sorry, I was just— ” He looked distraught. He drew in a breath to steady himself, but his words still came out shaky. “Hyung, my voice broke. I— ” Namjoon shook his head . It was one of the rare times he interrupted his members before they'd finished their sentence. “ I know. You’re thinking that it’s your fault. Maybe it really is. Maybe it isn’t. But t hat's not important. What's important is we learn from this. So don't go beating yourself up over this. Keep your chin up, okay?”A pulse of silence passed. Jimin nodded his head.
“Next performance,” he said, determined. “Next performance we'll kill it like we usually do.”
“That's the spirit.”
The mood seemed to pick up after that. The members dispersed. Hoseok and Jimin discussed their next stage in all seriousness. Jin and Yoongi filled their stomachs with the sandwiches provided by the organiser . Taehyung and Jungkook fiddled with an odd-looking switch beside the couches, debating its function.Some time later, a staff came to inform them that it was time to return to the artistes’ area. The grand prize was about to be awarded.
Jimin rose from his seat and cast his gaze around the room.
“Where's Namjoon Hyung?”
Hoseok shrugged.
“I'll go look for him,” Jimin said.
He went down the corridor, craning his neck, saying hi and asking a few people along the way but no one could give him Namjoon’s specific whereabouts. Eventually he found Namjoon in the bathroom at the end of the corridor where few would visit.
Jimin stopped short of calling Namjoon.
Namjoon hadn’t noticed that Jimin had opened the door. His back was against Jimin. He had one arm up against the tiled wall and his forehead pressed against that arm. The other arm, the one that hung by his side, ended in fist that trembled even though it was tightly clenched.
Jimin looked at Namjoon , as though caught in a dilemma.Then he retreated, pulling the door gently closed , and left Namjoon be. ::::::::::The tears finally came. They started quietly, muffled by a fist pressed against the lips. Then Jimin seemed to remember he was alone and the tears escalated. The tight lid had broken and his grief came gushing forth. His body curled. His shoulders shook violently.On the side table next to the bed, the screen of his phone flashed silently yet impatiently with anxious messages and phone calls.He ignored all of them.::::::::::For the next two days, Jimin stayed in bed. He didn't eat, and neither did he drink apart from the careless handfuls of water he cupped to his lips whenever he visited the bathroom. He was incapacitated, his tears as endless as a fountain. Even when he wasn't sobbing, tears leaked from his eyes like droplets from a faulty water tap.I watched as his cheeks became increasingly hollow. Patience, I told myself as I looked at him twitching in what I knew was a fitful and short-lived sleep. Even phoenixes have to be reduced to ash before they can be reborn again.Things finally started to look better on the fourth day. Jimin got out of bed, took a long shower and shaved. He changed into the fresh clothes he'd brought with him in his knapsack and put the dirty ones to wash.I could tell that he was still tired and drained. His movements weren’t as sprightly as they normally were, but there was a patience and purpose to them that gave me ease. Even though his eyes were puffy and the skin beneath them tinged green-grey, I thought I could glean hope and determination in them.He left the house and went by foot to the nearest grocery store thirty minutes away. When he got back to the house, he made himself a large ham and cheese omelette, a salad, three pancakes and a fruit bowl. He finished everything.He watched a little TV after that, then spent the rest of the day on the terrace in a wicker chair, reading a book I gave him a couple of years ago. I was surprised that he’d brought it with him. It wasn't a long book, but the few times he’d tried to read it had ended in surrender after two or three chapters, his attention floating elsewhere and hungering something more dynamic than words fixed on paper.It was different this time. He was engrossed. Sometimes he stopped, a thoughtful expression on his face, but he didn't put the book down. I imagined him reading from my perspective and trying to understand why the prose had sung to my heart enough for me to give the book to him. I imagined him reconstructing a fuller version of Kim Namjoon in his head. You don't stop finding out new things about someone just because he'd died, and you can tell a lot about a person from the books he likes.By the time he finished the book, the sun was setting. He closed the book and looked up in time to see the sun dipping low enough to line the treetops with light of a luscious gold.::::::::::“I feel like you're less hard on yourself these days,” Namjoon told Jimin . They were sitting on an empty beach, their bicycles parked some distance behind them. They had cycled a good hour through the wee morning to get here. Some stars were still visible in the pre-dawn sky.
Jimin laughed. “Is that a good thing or a roundabout way of saying that I need to work harder?”
“Do you even have to ask? Of course it's a good thing. A happy and relaxed Jimin is the best Jimin.”
Jimin hummed. He drew his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. “Do you remember the award show we went to last year?”
“Which one?”
“The horrible one. The one where Hobi Hyung was so mad that I thought he was going to punch someone.”
Namjoon scrunched his nose. “That one.”
“I saw you hiding in the bathroom that day,” Jimin confessed, sounding a little embarrassed.
Namjoon looked a little surprised. “I finally know whom I should blame for my tardiness in returning to the artistes’ area,” he said wryly. “I just thought that you needed some time alone,” Jimin said. “The performance affected you a lot despite everything you said about how we shouldn’t let it hold us back. What I didn't understand was why, after all we’ve been through together, you found the need to go somewhere alone and be vulnerable in secret.”
The sky was beginning to lighten. Namjoon looked at a tiny crab struggling to crawl out of the sand about a feet away.
“When you're a leader,” Namjoon began thoughtfully, “there are some things you can't do in front of your group members who look to you to give directions and set the tone. If I start beating myself up, you guys will do the same, especially the three of you.” Jimin didn't need to ask to know that Namjoon was referring to the maknae line. “I t’s my job to keep morale up. There are some things I can only do when no one’s looking.”
Jimin nodded. “I thought as much.” He dragged a finger through the sand and created random doodles, as if by doing so he wouldn't have to meet Namjoon’s eyes. “It made me think back to the many times I got all pouty because I kept harping over a mistake I'd made and all of you had to tell me to let it go. I thought being so hard on myself meant that I cared about my job, but I didn't realise how I affected the people around me. It must have been distracting. Or worse, annoying.”
“I don't think any of us felt that way.”
The sky was a lighter blue now and the stars were altogether gone. In the east, the moon was hanging on to its last vestiges.
“Still,” Jimin said, “I should be a source of strength rather than a cause for worry. I should be like you.”
Namjoon smiled. “But the world needs a Jimin more than it needs another Namjoon.”
Jimin reeled back a little, awe, adoration and shyness on his face all at once. “Someday, Hyung, someday I will have the same flair for words as you do. When that day happens, you better be ready for all the lyrical compliments I’m going to shower you with.”
“I can’t wait for that day.”
A flare appeared in the horizon. They fell silent then, directing all their attention to the thickening band of orange light in the distance. Steadily the sun rose, transforming the sky into a canvas of orange, yellow and blue, and casting a path of gold in the sea. Then it rose even higher and bit by bit, the magic disappeared. The sky became too pale and the waters too dull to captivate. Jimin sighed, the way one does at the ephemeral. He got to his feet and dusted his pants. “We should head back.”
Namjoon made no move to get up.
“Have you ever stopped to think what a miracle this is?” He asked, his eyes still fixed at the horizon.
Jimin laughed. “But the sun rises every day.”
Namjoon blinked. “Oh, I don't mean that. Think about this: Out of the billions of people that walk this earth, how hard does the universe has to work in our favour for our paths to cross and then to share this moment together?” His lips widened into a smile. “Have you ever thought of the odds?”:::::::::: Jimin rushed back into the house to grab his phone and dashed back out to the terrace again. He ignored all the messages and missed phone calls, and activated the camera. He snapped a photo of the sunset.Later, when the sky had completely darkened and stars had come out of their hiding places, he would sit in bed and go onto our Twitter account, which hadn't been updated since I died. He would scroll through his photo album and select one of the many selfies the both of us had taken together. He would upload this selfie, along with the picture of the sunset he'd taken a few hours ago.Then he'd post both of them to our millions of followers, along with the following caption:How lucky I am to know you. I’ll use all the wishes I've got left in this lifetime and pray that I'd surmount all the odds in my next lifetime so that we can meet each other again. Hyung, I miss you. But I love you more. #JIMIN::::::::::
“Hyung, our song is magical,” Jimin said, awed.
In the studio with its lights turned low, his eyes glimmered. Namjoon and he had just finished listening to the song they had been working on together for more than six months.
“Isn’t it?” Namjoon grinned. “It took some work, but everything came together. My rap, your vocals…” He leaned back into his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. “I feel like I can die tomorrow and still be happy.”
The happiness on Jimin’s face became a frown. “Don't talk like that.”
Namjoon looked puzzled. “What?”
“Don't talk about dying. I don't like it. We supposed to live good and long lives.”
“It's only a figure of speech. But Jimin, have you never thought of things like these? Things like if you were to die tomorrow, are you happy doing the things you're doing today?”
“Not really.” Jimin shrugged, leaning forward to close the music file on the computer. “I like living too much.”
“Don't get me wrong. I like living too,” Namjoon assured. “But I imagine my death sometimes to make sure I'm living on the right track. And if I really died tomorrow, I think I’d feel okay.”
Jimin’s lips jutted out in a displeased pout. “What about all the things you wanted to achieve? All the songs you have yet written? Wouldn't you regret all those?”
Namjoon looked thoughtful.
“I think we’ll always die with regrets no matter how we lived or how long we lived,” he said finally. “Some regrets are small, like the dish in the restaurant you never tried or the country you never managed to visit. Other regrets are bigger, like a dream left unchased, a person you weren't brave enough to hold on to, a goodbye you never got the chance to say. I think we can only make sure that our regrets don't overwhelm all the other good things in our life, that they are not the only things you think of when it’s finally time for you to go. As long as you can do that, I think that you had led a pretty good life. And honestly, Jimin,” Namjoon grinned, “I think I've been doing a pretty good job so far.”
::::::::::A thump sounded somewhere in the house. Jimin froze. He had just returned from an evening walk in the area and had headed straight into the kitchen for a drink.He inhaled sharply when a sort of faint swishing came next. It was the kind that oddly resembled the furious exchange of whispers between partners-in-crime who were quickly realising that their plan was about to be foiled.Someone has broken into the house. I could see that thought reflected in the tense lines of his body. He lowered his glass of water and set it soundlessly on the table. He reached for the heavyset wooden pepper mill on the counter and tiptoed out of the kitchen.At first glance there seemed to be no one else in the living room. Then, beyond the doorway that opened to the stairs, something — no, someone — moved. The darkness resolved itself. Through the shadows, I could see the silhouettes of two people huddled together, their heads bowed toward each other, probably still whispering.A part of me — the sensible part — wanted Jimin to leave the house immediately and call the police, but the other part — the smaller part that grew up watching too many actions movies where good trumped evil — wanted to see him put his Taekwondo black belt to good use and take out a pair of thugs with his savage spin kick.Jimin wrapped both of his hands around the pepper mill the way one would grip a baseball bat. With steps as light as a cat’s, he approached the trespassers, picking up speed and widening the width of his strides as he neared. The trespassers did not realise Jimin was there until he was a mere arm’s length away. One of them snapped his head up just as Jimin swung the pepper mill down.“Hyung, stop! It’s us!” A frantic voice yelped.The pepper mill stopped an inch away from the skull. In the dim, someone fumbled for something. Then a click sounded and the lights for the stairs came on.Jimin’s jaw dropped. “J-Jungkook?” His eyes slid over to the second person standing next to the switch. “And Taehyung? What are the both of you doing here?”“Hyung, please,” Jungkook cast a worried upward glance at the pepper mill that was still uncomfortably close to his skull, “could you put that away first?”Jimin lowered the pepper mill. “Answer my question.” He didn't sound too pleased.“We were worried about you.” Jungkook fidgeted. “V Hyung and I.”“I left a note before I left, yes?”“But you were gone so suddenly and we—”Jimin interrupted Jungkook. “And you read the note, yes?” Jungkook nodded meekly. “So tell me what I wrote on it.”“You said you've gone to fix some things.” Jungkook stood like a chastised schoolchild.“To fix myself, yes. And?”“You said that you'll be okay.”“And?”“You told us not to look for you.” Jungkook finished in a mumble, not meeting Jimin’s eyes.“Exactly. Did you not trust that I'll be fine? Is that why you're here? And how did you even know I was—” Jimin paused. “Right, the photo I posted on Twitter.”Jungkook nodded eagerly, as if that would take some of Jimin’s steam off. “V Hyung recognised it immediately. We would've come sooner if the hyungs hadn't tried to stop us. We had to sneak out—”“And you didn't think of listening to the hyungs?”“We were so worried, Hyung.” A note of exasperation had crawled into Jungkook’s voice. “We needed to see for ourselves that you're indeed okay. Our original intention was to observe you from the outside and then go. But the house was all dark when we arrived and we had to come in. You have no idea how worried we were,” Jungkook repeated. “V Hyung didn't even sleep when you were gone.”Jimin looked over at Taehyung, who had been quiet all this time. Taehyung looked like he had lost weight. His eyes flickered over to Jungkook, as though horrified that the youngest had sold him out like that.“You didn't sleep?” Jimin asked.“That's not true,” Taehyung said hurriedly. “I slept last night before we came.”“No you didn't,” Jungkook said, “I know you didn't because I saw you sitting in the kitchen staring at nothing when I got up in the middle of the night to take a pee.”Taehyung was caught in a fluster. He worked his lips but no words came.I could see the irritation leaving Jimin, and in its wake was regret. I knew that later, when he was alone with Taehyung, Jimin'd apologise and admit to him all things he'd gone through in the five days since he had left the dorm to find his healing. He'd bare his soul because Taehyung deserved as much for being his soulmate.But now, Jimin raked a hand through his hair, then pretended to be annoyed again, particularly at Jungkook.“How did the both of you even get in?”“The back door. You forgot to lock it. Please, Hyung, don't be mad,” Jungkook added pleadingly when Jimin looked like he was readying himself to launch into another lecture.“Try not to be when you nearly got a heart attack because your bandmates forgot that technology existed and they could've just called.”“It's not like you'd pick up,” Jungkook mumbled.“Did you just say something? Would you like to repeat?”“Nothing,” Jungkook said, feigning innocence with a grin and his naturally guileless doe eyes. “I said nothing at all!”“I'm sorry, Jiminnie, we shouldn't have intruded. We should've trusted you,” Taehyung said softly. There was something in his voice — fear? guilt? tiredness? — that was heartbreaking. Jimin must have heard it too because his face softened. “Jungkook, maybe we should leave.”Jimin sighed. “No, stay. I intend to go back tomorrow morning anyway. We can go back together. By ’we’, I mean Taehyung and I. Jungkook, you can go home tonight.”Jungkook’s eyes widened. “But what did I do!”“You’re somehow annoying tonight. And you're not my soulmate.” To prove his point, Jimin sidled to Taehyung’s side and wrapped his arms around him. The contact made Taehyung break into a small smile.“But you can stay if you make dinner. There's some ramen in the cabi—” Jungkook zipped out to the kitchen before Jimin could finish his sentence. “Wow, just how desperate is he to stay?”“Probably very,” Taehyung said, “He wasn't joking when he said he was worried.”“I know,” Jimin tucked his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder. “But I had to do this, to be alone and sort myself out. You understand, don't you?”Taehyung nodded. He patted Jimin’s hair. “So how are you feeling now?”Jimin cinched his arms tighter around Taehyung.“Like I'm finally breathing after being underwater for so long.” Jimin said, smiling as he pressed his nose into Taehyung’s shirt and inhaled.“Like I'm finally home.”
End of Jimin's Chapters
::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
About seven months after my death, Bangtan released a song on SoundCloud. In the minutes leading up to its release, the members gathered in the living room, fiddling restlessly on their phones. No words were exchanged.Then midnight came and the song appeared under our account.“It’s done,” Jimin said. His voice wobbled a little. He proceeded to share the song on Twitter.I did not know whose phone it was from, but the song began to play. Nobody objected. They listened, as did I. I imagined thousands of ARMYs listening to the same song this very second, and the line between life and death seemed to blur. I was sharing this moment with our fans, something which I’d not expected to be possible in my death.The song was a bittersweet one that summarised Bangtan’s life without me. The metaphorical lyrics and melody wove together a journey of loss and despair, but at the end was hope as well. The members would never be able to give a word-by-word account of what each of them had gone through during this period because there was too much darkness involved. But this — this song — was their way of telling the world Yes, we strayed, struggled, and doubted after Namjoon was gone. But we are still carrying on and we haven’t lost the hope that tomorrow, tomorrow we’ll be more okay than we are today.From all over the world and across all platforms, comments and messages flowed in. There were the cynical and the plain hateful, but staggeringly more than those were the supportive, the sympathetic, the tearful. The members read as many as they could, refreshing the apps on their phones every few seconds. Hoseok, Jimin and Jungkook cried. Jin looked like he was trying not to.Bangtan had shared their story. ARMY had replied.
We are here. Still here.
::::::::::It would be an understatement to say that the song enjoyed a warm reception. It trended on Twitter for days. Both domestic and international media reported about it, and those articles trended too. People — both fans and the general public — professed on forums and comment sections that they were glad that Bangtan was back. We had been out of the public eye for a while now, but we were not out of their mind.The support showered by the outside world seemed to remind the members that thousands—no, millions—of people were still waiting for them, that there were people that they somehow needed to answer to. This was how two weeks after the song was released, the members met up with Bang PD in his office and announced that they were ready to make an official comeback.Bang PD stayed silent for some time, the interlocked fingers on top of his belly a sign that he was deep in thought.“You understand that all eyes will be on you, don’t you? I know you boys are no stranger to pressure, but this is a pressure of a different kind. Are you sure you are ready for it?”“We’ve talked this over for many days,” Hoseok said. “We didn’t make this decision hastily.”“I’m not saying that you did,” Bang PD said, perhaps sensing the note of defensiveness that had entered Hoseok’s voice. “But there are people who'd be critical, even unjustly so. They’ll make comparison to the before. It’s inevitable.”“Are you saying that we should disband?” Jimin asked softly.“No, no, of course not. But there are people who believe that you shouldn’t carry on as six. Then there are the extremists who’ll go to the extent of accusing you of forgetting Namjoon. And then there are the others who’d assert that Bangtan has lost its essence without their core songwriter. I need to be sure that you can handle all these comments, that your head is in the right place before we endeavour on a comeback. Your well-being comes first.”“Yes, we have thought about that,” Hoseok said. In my absence, he seemed to have become the voice for the group. “We even made a mental run-through of what'd happen without Namjoon. Frankly, just thinking about that makes us scared and nervous. But the thing is, we’ll still be scared and nervous no matter how much time we give ourselves. The only way out of it is to just do it, and we need to do this.” He paused. His voice dipped lower. “It's one of the few things left we can do for Namjoon—to share the last songs he'd made for Bangtan with the world.”Some of the other members nodded in support.Bang PD fell into a contemplative silence. The pinch between his eyebrows was still present. His eyes trailed over the members’ faces. I knew he was checking for the slightest waver in the members’ resolve, for any cracks that rendered them breakable when pressure was applied. He had always been good at reading us, even better than we were at reading each other. It could be my imagination, but his gaze seemed to linger a fraction longer on Taehyung.“Don't worry about us, PD-nim,” Hoseok said. “We have each other.”Bang PD shifted in his seat, sighing the way parents often did when they realised that they could use all the words they know but still be unable to convince their bullheaded children.“Just remember that the living should always come before the dead,” he said.“Of course. Why would it be any other way?”A pause of silence later, Bang PD nodded and gave them his approval.::::::::::Comeback preparations moved into full swing. Meetings happened almost every day, some within the group, others with the staff at Big Hit. The comeback concept was discussed, the title track decided, and the schedule drafted (but yet set in stone because Bang PD wanted the members to take their time). The recording had been completed for most part, but loose ends in production remained to be tied up before the songs were ready for the world.The members were busier than they'd ever been since my death. I might sound like a stalker, but I couldn’t deny that there was enjoyment in watching them. They moved with purpose. When they talked, their eyes were bright with excitement. They laughed more too. They poured themselves into their work with a passion I hadn't seen in a while. This was what it meant to move on, I guess. Other than the occasional stroke of loneliness, I was happy for them.Today the members gathered in the practice room. The dance for the title track had recently been choreographed.There were many things I missed about being in Bangtan, but dancing was not one of them. Thank god I was dead and thus spared. See, I was coming terms with my own death enough to joke about it. My members weren't the only ones making progress.As the members practiced, my eyes were drawn to Jin. I wondered if he missed me at the moment. We were the slowest learners and the clumsiest dancers of the group. Now that I was gone, did he feel double the pressure not to be the one—the only one—slowing the group down?The music for the first two verses stopped. From his center position, Hoseok turned his back on the mirror and faced the members. Oh, I knew that expression, though I didn't particularly want to see it again. It was the one he wore when the members weren't dancing to his standards.But why? I thought Jin was doing pretty well. The choreography wasn't as strenuous as some of our previous.“Taehyung,” Hoseok called.My attention snapped to Taehyung, who was at the further side of the room.“You're missing the beat,” Hoseok said.Taehyung seemed to stiffen, but the next moment, he flashed Hoseok his rectangular-shaped smile through the mirror, the kind of smile that he often used to get out of trouble.“I'm sorry, Hyung.”Hoseok nodded tightly. “We’ll try again.”I watched Taehyung this time. He looked like he was scrambling to keep up. He had always been the fastest at picking up new choreographies, but his moves were messy today, lacking his usual power and precision. Hoseok had his gaze pinned on him, and that seemed to make Taehyung even more anxious.“Taehyung, you need to flick your wrists first.”“Taehyung, you're not doing it right. Your left feet have to extend more before sliding it back into place.”“Taehyung, you need to listen to the beats. You cannot just go off on your own.”Every time they stopped, it was because of Taehyung. Taehyung apologised every time, simultaneously ducking his head and looking as if he wanted nothing more than to become one with the floor.“Maybe it's because of your new shoes,” Jimin said, trying to be helpful but failing at it because anyone could tell that the excuse was feeble at best. He kept his mouth shut when no one responded, changing tack and focused on helping Taehyung instead.It was obvious that Taehyung was not himself. To be honest, neither was Hoseok. This stern, no-nonsense side of him when it came to dancing wasn't new, but the irritation in his voice was. His words sharpened with every criticism he dealt Taehyung.“What's wrong with you today?” Hoseok finally snapped. “This isn't your usual standard. Keep this going and you're going to disappoint all the fans who believe you should be in the dance line.”Taehyung jerked, wounded. The other members exchanged grim looks with each other.“That wasn’t necessary, Hoseok,” Yoongi murmured.Hoseok didn't retaliate, nor did he offer an apology. He only blew his cheeks out in frustration and ran a hand through his hair.“Maybe we should take a thirty.” Jungkook said uncertainly.“We should call it a day,” Jin said. The way his words sounded, it was more a command than a suggestion.“What?” Hoseok responded, incredulous. “We’ve barely started.”“For the practice, yes. But we've been out and about since morning. All of us are tired.”“But we usually go on longer than this,” Hoseok rebuked, waving carelessly at the digital clock in the practice room.It was 10.32 p.m. Jin was right. Before coming to the practice, the members’d had meetings one after another since morning. But Hoseok was right too. 20-hour-work days were no stranger to us during the pre-comeback season.“The ‘usual’ doesn't apply here, Hoseok,” Jin said, alluding to my absence.Hoseok’s hands flexed. “This comeback is important, Hyung.”“I know. But we can't just accelerate from zero to a hundred. It has been a while since we are back at doing this. You need to give us time to adjust. Only then will we be able to do better.”Despite Jin’s use of ‘we’, I knew that he was referring to Taehyung. Taehyung sensed that the argument was about him too.“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “Please don't fight. We can continue. I'll do bett—”“No,” Jin interrupted, cutting Taehyung a firm glance. “We’re going home. We’re only wasting each other’s time if we force ourselves to practice.”I winced. I had no doubt Jin said what he did out of kind intentions. Anyone could see that Taehyung probably needed a good night sleep to clear his head before he could make any progress. But I wondered if Jin realised from the way Taehyung'd fallen silent that he sounded harsher than intended.The other members stood on the periphery of Jin and Hoseok’s argument. None of them said anything, fearing that any utterance would be construed as picking sides and make matters worse.“Fine then,” Hoseok said, in a way that made it obvious that it was far from fine. “Let’s call it a night and go back to our cosy beds.”He brushed past the rest in big steps that thumped angrily against the wooden floor. He picked his bag up in the corner and threw the towel over his shoulder.At the door, he stopped and turn to address the rest. “Tomorrow,” he said tersely, “tomorrow I expect everyone to give their best.”Then he was out of the room before anyone else could say anything.::::::::::Except for Hoseok who'd gone to his studio after the unhappy goodbye, the members headed back to the apartment and went back to their own rooms. I didn't know how well they were able to sleep that night. All I knew was that Taehyung didn't.He sat at the small table in the kitchen for a long time after the lights in the house had gone out, occasionally toying with his fingers but most of the time just staring at nothing.It was Jungkook who found Taehyung like that at three in the morning, when thirst woke him up and drove him to the kitchen. When the kitchen lights came on without warning, Taehyung jerked. Jungkook jumped too, all traces of sleep scattering from his face.“Woah Hyung! You gave me a scare!”“Sorry.” Taehyung winced.Jungkook padded to the sink, scratching at his head where tufts of hair were sticking in various directions. “What are you doing up so late anyway?” He asked as he filled a mug with water from the tap.“I can’t sleep.”“Well, you should. We still have practice tomorrow.”“I know but…” Taehyung turned to look at Jungkook, who had propped a hip against the counter as he guzzled down the water. “Jungkookie, do you think Jin and Hobi Hyung are going to be okay?”“Why would they not—” Jungkook started quizzically, then halted. “Oh. You mean what happened during practice.” He shrugged. “I don't think it's a big thing. They'll be over it when tomorrow comes.”Taehyung looked unconvinced. “Hobi Hyung was really unhappy.”“Well… Hoseok is a great person but…” Jungkook dropped his voice as though he was sharing a secret, “he’s not the most pleasant when it comes to dancing.”Taehyung did not laugh like I thought he would. He sighed and doubled over the table, pressing a cheek against the surface.“I don't like it when others quarrel because of me.”“No one’s quarrelling, Hyung. They just had a small disagreement.”“I should've done better today. I don't know why I'm like this.”Jungkook set his mug aside. “Maybe it's just one of your bad days?” He suggested earnestly. “We all have those.”Taehyung didn't reply immediately. The seconds of silence that followed began to stretch into awkwardness.“Hy—” Jungkook began, but Taehyung interrupted.His words were a slow and weighted murmur, like it was intended solely for his own ears and not anyone else’s. “Have you ever felt like there are so many things going on inside your head and you keep chasing them in circles and you can't be fully present with the world around you?”Jungkook frowned. “Hyung, are you okay?”Taehyung didn't seem to hear. His eyes were on Jungkook, but I didn't think he saw Jungkook. They were faraway.“Hyung,” Jungkook tried again, louder this time.Taehyung blinked, focus snapping back into his eyes. He lifted his head off the table.“Jungkook?” The way Taehyung said it, it was as if he just remembered Jungkook was there.“Hyung, are you okay?” Jungkook looked at Taehyung carefully.“D-Did I say something?”“What do you mean? You just told me a second ago that there are so many things on your mind you feel distracted.”“Oh. Yes. Right.” Taehyung’s eyes darted away from Jungkook in a fluster. “You know me. Sometimes I go off into my nonsense world and nonsense comes out of my mouth.”Jungkook nodded, but his frown remained. “But seriously, Hyung, are you okay?” He asked again, bending forward and planted his hands on his knees so that he could level his eyes with Taehyung’s. “You can talk to me if you want.”“I don't know,” Taehyung admitted, his voice uncertain. “I think today's just one of my bad days too. But I've been having a few bad days now. I don't know. I…” He lifted a hand to rub its heel into his eye. “I just want them to go away.”“Has this got to do with Namjoon Hyung?”Taehyung’s gaze drifted away to the spot beyond Jungkook’s ear. He nodded slowly. “If Bangtan was destined to become only six, he should be the one who’s still here instead of me.”Taehyung’s words took Jungkook aback. “Of course not, Hyung. Don’t speak like that. That’s not true.”The alarm in Jungkook’s voice seemed to startle Taehyung. He rearranged his facial features, shaking off the sadness that framed them just a moment ago. He pushed a smile on, as though realising that he’d said something he shouldn’t have and was now seeking forgiveness.“I’m not the best with words. I just mean that things’d be easier if Namjoon Hyung was here.”A sound of relief escaped from Jungkook. The muscles in Jungkook’s shoulder relaxed.“They won’t last forever,” he said. When Taehyung looked confused, he clarified. “Your bad days. They’ll eventually go away.”Taehyung bit his lower lip. “How do you know?”“Because that’s how it always is. We have good days, and we have bad days. You know how sometimes everything seems to be going so well for us but then BAM!, things go downhill the next day as if to punish us for being too happy?”Taehyung nodded uncertainly, as if trying to decode what Jungkook was saying because it didn’t sound like anything meant to lift somebody else’s spirits.“My point is good days don’t last. And if they don’t last, neither will bad days. They take turns, you know?”Taehyung fell into a brief moment of pondering silence. “So I just have to hold on and be patient and wait for the good days to come again?” He asked, looking like a child who wanted assurance.“That’s right.” Jungkook beamed, showing his bunny teeth.At that moment I was filled with a sense of pride. Jungkook had come a long way since the initial days of my death. He was becoming steadier, able to provide a safe place for others to lean against when they were faltering.Almost shyly, Taehyung brushed at the the tip of his nose with the knuckle of a curled finger. The corners of his mouth lifted, as though the weight of what was bothering him had sloughed off, if not all then at least some.Jungkook straightened up. “I know of something that will make you feel better. Do you remember the 24-hour patbingsoo place we used to go to whenever we had very hard days?” His eyebrows had risen enthusiastically, an expression that was foreboding in my eyes because it always preceded a bad idea or shenanigans.“It’s winter now.”“Since when have we ever let the weather stop us. C’mon, Hyung.” Jungkook pulled Taehyung up from the chair.“Okay, okay. But just one more thing though,” Taehyung hesitated. “C-could you not tell anyone about this conversation we had tonight? I don’t want them to worry,” he added softly when Jungkook looked surprised.“Not even Jimin Hyung?”“Especially not him. I don’t want him to fuss over me.”“So it’s like a secret between the maknaes of the maknaes?”Taehyung shrugged a little uncomfortably. “Sort of, in a way.”Jungkook grinned. “I think I like that very much.”
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yoongi came out of his room in the morning to find Jin and Jimin at the dining table. They were done with breakfast and were working through their coffees.Yoongi dropped into the chair next to Jin and pulled toward himself the plate of scrambled eggs and sausages that'd been left out for him. “Where's Tae and Jungkook?”“Already out,” Jin replied. “Taehyung said he needs more practice and Jungkook is helping him out.” Then he glanced wryly at Yoongi. “Not asking where Hoseok went?”Yoongi proceeded to butter a toast without sparing Jin a glance. “Unless he went somewhere other than the company, then no, I'm not interested to know.”Hoseok being a workaholic was nothing new, but these days he took what it meant to be one to a whole new level. Ever since Bangtan’d decided on a comeback, he had devoted himself fully into work, the kind that wasn’t segmented by breaks. He took part in every stage of production and assumed a hefty role in choreographing all the comeback stages. The other day I heard from the members’ conversations that he was also sitting in for meetings regarding the album design, which was usually a process we fully entrusted to the creative and marketing departments.“Does he even come back anymore?” Yoongi’s question was intended for Jimin who, being Hoseok’s roommate, would know Hoseok’s coming and going the best.“I heard him come back at about three last night but he was gone again when I woke up,” Jimin said. He paused for a bit, frowning as though he wasn't sure if he should reveal the next thing on his mind. In the end he did. “He came back, but I don't think he really slept.”When Jin and Yoongi shot him a questioning glance, Jimin clarified. “You know the little notebook he kept that contains the English phrases he'd picked up over the years? The one he had with him whenever we went to the US? He was flipping through it in bed last night. I think he was studying. I heard him scribbling and muttering the words to himself.”At first that came as surprise to me. Hoseok'd never shown any obvious interest in learning English apart from the standard pleasantries frequently used in interviews. Then I remembered that the comeback would be accompanied by interviews with the foreign media. Now that they didn't have me, the group’s default interpreter, the members would have to start pulling their own weight. Hoseok had just started working on it sooner than the others.“What Hobi Hyung’s doing, all these excessive working,” Jimin continued, his voice going a pitch higher with worry, “it isn't right.”It wasn't. The last time any of us worked this hard, operating on minimal rest and sleep, was when we were just two years into our debut. Back then, we were on the rise but hadn’t quite established our footing yet. Our thirst for success drove us to work harder. We snatched at every opportunity to release songs, and we accepted every invitation to go on shows. We stretched ourselves like we were an elastic band, pushing every limit. We were young, we thought. We could take it. We couldn’t.My body was the first to give out. At the ER where I ended up with an needle burrowed into my arm, hooking me up to the IV drip, a doctor told me in no uncertain terms that if I were to continue working the way I was, I might find myself in the grave sooner than I’d find whatever success I was desperately striving toward. The warning spooked me, and later my members when I told them. Since then, we'd learned to pace ourselves and each other. Did Hoseok forget all that?“He did admit that this comeback was important to him,” Jin said fairly, though it was obvious he wasn’t altogether convinced that was enough reason to explain Hoseok’s recent behaviour.“Don’t we all feel the same? I just wish he’d let us help though.” Jimin sighed, slumping forward to rest his chin on the dining table. “I offered to listen to the tracks that’ve already been mixed and check that they’re ready for mastering. I mean, what’s so difficult about that right? Even I could do it. But he told me that whether or not I listen to the tracks, he’d listen to them again so there was no point.” His lips protruded into a hurt pout. “I don’t think he trust me.”Yoongi folded his toast around a forkful of egg and took a disinterested bite of the resulting sandwich. He chewed a few times, swallowed, then said, “It’s not so much about trust. It’s his perfectionism.”Jin caught Yoongi’s eyes, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips, amused and heartened at the same time. “Seems like the time we spent as roommates and fishing partners paid off. I thought the same too.”Jimin frowned. “But Hobi Hyung being a perfectionist isn’t anything new. That’s why he works us so hard in the practice room and get all scary on us when we make mistakes in our moves.”Yoongi and Jin shared a look as though wondering what they should do with Jimin’s naivety.“The level of perfectionism you see from him right now is just a fraction of how he used to be,” Yoongi said, taking another bite off his sandwich.Jin picked up from where Yoongi had left off. “You know how everyone called him a golden trainee back in the day? How his skills were so lauded in the circle that Big Hit was known as the company that has Jung Hoseok?”Jimin nodded uncertainly, as if he was unsure where Jin was going with this. “He was a well-rounded trainee, a Jack-of-all——no,” Jin shook his head and corrected himself, “more like a master of all trades. Singing, rapping, producing, dancing... there wasn’t anything he wasn’t good at. He was like Jungkook, only more terrifying because he was confident where Jungkook was hesitant. He was good and he knew it. And when you’re that good, you believe that perfection is possible. In everything that he did, Hoseok pushed himself so that he could reach that ideal state every time.”From the way his gaze drifted upward, I could see Jimin pondering over Jin’s words. “I... I think I can understand that,” he said after a moment.“Of course you could.” Jin smiled in understanding. It was common knowledge that Jimin was a perfectionist too, though he’d learned to be less hard on himself in recent years. “But the difference between you and Hoseok,” Jin went on, “was that he applied his sky-high standard on others and expected them to live up to it. And when they couldn’t, he watched and pushed them to make sure that they did everything correctly.”“In cruder terms,” Yoongi interjected, “he was a control freak.”“So it was no surprise that he wasn’t very popular with other trainees,” Jin said. “Whenever the time came for monthly evaluations, other trainees would visit the temple to pray that they don’t get grouped with Hoseok because that meant working late into the night until he was satisfied. There was the occasional quarrel, but most of the time others only dared to grumble behind his back because as much as Hoseok put them through the grind, he also secured the top spot for them.”Jimin’s lips had fallen slightly open. “I didn’t know all that.”“You wouldn’t,” Jin said. “That was all before you joined the company.”Yoongi cocked his head at Jin in sudden curiosity. “I’ve been meaning to ask you... did you ever go on one of those little prayer trips with the others?”“Please, I’m too sensible for that.” Jin scoffed dismissively but I didn’t miss the faint pink that’d suddenly tinged the tip of his ears.“So what changed Hobi Hyung?” Jimin asked, pulling the conversation back onto its original track.“Namjoon,” Jin stated simply.Me? That was unexpected enough that I went blank for a moment. I looked to Yoongi and expected him to disagree. He didn’t.“The two of them got paired for an assignment once. Bang PD asked them to make a song. They hadn’t really worked together before that. Namjoon wasn’t the most well-rounded trainee, but where he was lacking he made up for it with his incredible talent for songwriting and producing. Namjoon was so prolific that for the first time, Hoseok realised he was the weaker one and there really wasn’t any point in trying to control another when you’re the subpar player in the equation.”My first memory of working with Hoseok came back to me. The details were fuzzy, but the general emotions I felt back then were clearer. Truth be told, the experience hadn’t been pleasant. I remembered thinking that Hoseok was overbearing and picky to a fault. Looking back at it now, maybe I hadn’t been all that great to work with either. We could have been two teenagers whose egos were wrestling out with each other to see whose ideas made it to the song. We talked to Bang PD a lot during that time, like two children running to an adult seeking a fair opinion. Bang PD preferred my ideas more times than he did Hoseok’s.After that first time, we worked together a couple more times for other assignments. The subsequent times were a lot more enjoyable. I thought Hoseok had softened his disposition and become more receptive to the ideas of others. His change was obvious, but I didn’t read too much into it at that time. I didn’t know the psychological processes that accompanied his transformation, not until now, with Jin’s revelation.Why hadn’t Hoseok told me?Right, I was reminded with a pang. We’d known each other for a decade, but our friendship wasn’t the kind where we’d voluntarily bare our weaknesses to each other. We were the same age and should have been the closest by default, but we didn’t share the kind of bond we saw between Jimin and Taehyung. Why? I sometimes wondered. Maybe Hoseok wasn’t as unguarded as Taehyung. Maybe I wasn’t as emotionally astute as Jimin.“Hoseok relaxed a lot after that,” Jin stirred his coffee thoughtfully, the metal of teaspoon clinking against the ceramic of the mug, “realised that he wasn’t the best at everything, learned how to trust others a little more, discovered that he was happier when he wasn’t trying to control everything 24/7. Except dancing, of course. He’s still a control freak when it comes to dancing because he’s undisputedly the best, and also because that’s the one thing he can’t compromise on.”Jimin stared at Jin, dumbfounded. “And you’re so sure of all these because?”It was Yoongi who answered instead. “Because Hoseok told me.”“And Yoongi told it to me,” Jin said simply.Jimin blinked.“Is it really so surprising?” Yoongi asked dryly, scraping the last of the eggs off his plate. “We talk quite often about you guys. Being the oldest two in the group comes the responsibility of keeping an eye on the rest of you. Do you really think I spend most of my time role-playing a stone?”“And do you really think I only mess around with you maknaes?” Jin added, mock affront in his voice.Jimin drew back from the table and squirmed a little in his seat. “It’s nice... I guess, to have big brothers watching after us.” He sounded uncertain, as if he was still letting the information sink in. Suddenly he looked queasy. “So you’re saying Hoseok Hyung’s the way he recently is because Namjoon Hyung’s gone?”“Namjoon...” Yoongi began, trailing off for a moment in search of words. “He steadied Hoseok a lot, though it might not have looked like that. I’m not saying that Hoseok doesn’t trust us. He does, but definitely not at the same level he trusted Namjoon. He knew he could always rely on Namjoon to lead and to create songs that fits Bangtan. That was how he’d kept himself in check. And now that Namjoon is gone...”“He feels like there’s no one else except him that can come close to Namjoon Hyung’s standard,” Jin finished.Jimin looked like he was an inch away from slamming his palm on the tabletop, but he settled for running a hand through his hair in frustration instead. “It sucks to know that he feels like he can’t depend on us after all these years together.”I struggled to wrap my head around the new information. I never knew Hoseok relied on me so much. He had always been the organised one out of the two of us, the one who enlivened the atmosphere, and the one who could keep the others in check.After a short silence, Jimin lifted his chin and looked at Jin and Yoongi. “So are we just going to let him be?”“No. Probably not,” Jin said.“Probably?”“We have to be realistic, Jimin. Hoseok’s an easygoing guy eighty-percent of the time. The other twenty he’s like a bull. Though it might be the reverse these days. We’ll try, but you should also know that trying to convince him is as easy as pulling the bull that he is by its horns.”::::::::::Hoseok returned to a quiet house at three in the morning. He went back to his room, took a quick shower, and got into bed. At six in the morning, his phone vibrated. He stopped the alarm and got up. He changed out of his pajamas, moving noiselessly and taking care not to wake the still sleeping Jimin. After he put on his cap, he headed out of the room.This was the routine he’d settled into ever since Bangtan decided on a comeback. He was the first to head out every morning and the last to return every night. If his studio had a shower, I was sure he wouldn’t even return at all.Usually the rest of the house would still be slumbering, recharging from a demanding day, when he slipped out. This morning was different. The kitchen lights were on and there was a delicious smell of something cooking.Hoseok had barely left his room when Jin shuffled out of the kitchen with a small pot of still-bubbling soup. By its color, it looked like doenjang-guk.Jin glanced at Hoseok. “Good, you’re up. I was about to go wake you.” He set the pot rather gracelessly on the dining table, hissing as his hands jumped to his ears, pulling on the lobes to diffuse the heat that’d accumulated in his fingers. “Sit down.”Hoseok looked at the dining table, where besides the soup there were a bowl of rice and a couple of side dishes.It was a considered a spread by Bangtan’s breakfast standard.“But I have to go.”“Yes, I know, but only after you have your breakfast. You have time. Sit.” Jin went back into the kitchen before Hoseok could protest further.Hoseok checked his watch. For a moment he looked like he was about to disregard Jin and tiptoe out of the house. But he sighed and move to take his seat at the dining table.Jin came back out with a plate of grilled fish and placed it in front of Hoseok. “Dig in.” He sat across from the younger, folding a leg under him.Hoseok picked up the spoon. “What about you?”“I’ll eat with the rest later.”Hoseok scooped a big mouthful of rice into his mouth. He chewed with as much enthusiasm as Yoongi on a bad day, but Jin still looked satisfied. I thought I could understand why.“I can’t remember when was the last time I saw you eat,” Jin said. It wasn’t a hyperbole. With how busy he’d made himself, Hoseok’d stopped sharing meals with the members. Just last night Jungkook’d whined about that.Hoseok swallowed, then said, “How else would I still be alive if I haven’t been eating anything?” There was an impatience to Hoseok’s matter-of-fact tone that suggested he was holding back the urge to roll his eyes.“Then I hope that it’s more than a hasty bite of sandwich here and a slurp of cup ramyeon there.”Hoseok did not respond to Jin’s insinuation. Instead he changed the subject.“What are you doing up so early anyway?”Jin considered for a moment. “Do you want the truth or the lie?”“You don’t have to answer.”“Did you leave behind your sense of humor in the studio?” Jin said, unaffected. “I’m embarking on a healthier lifestyle. I’ve been trying to catch you for a chat for quite some time. Humor me, guess which one is the truth.”I could sense Hoseok tensing, his walls rising up and his defense mechanism locking into place. He took a particularly long time to chew his food to save himself from answering. Jin, however, was undeterred.“You’re always working on one thing or the other these days. And since when have you become Yoongi? The maknae line were just complaining the other day that you’ve started locking your studio door.”“I have too many things to do and I need to focus,” Hoseok said testily.Jin sighed. “That’s the problem right there, Hoseok. If you have so many things to do, why don’t you let us help?”“I can handle it.”“At what cost? You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate you’re going.”“I know what I’m doing.”There was still a good amount of food left over, but Hoseok had stopped eating.“You once told Jungkook off for treating Bangtan like it was made up of only Namjoon and him, but now you’re behaving as if Bangtan is your one-man show.” Jin’s voice had been soft, unaccusing, but still Hoseok stiffened. “We want you to lean on us.”Hoseok released a long and heavy breath. He held Jin’s eyes with a cool and steely gaze. It reminded me of the Hoseok that existed many years ago, before JHope came into existence. That Hoseok was far from a cannonball of sunshine. That Hoseok was critical to the point of cynicism. That Hoseok kept his heart hard and firmly closed.“Maybe the problem doesn’t lie with me as much as with you,” that Hoseok said to Jin. “You may be the eldest in the team, but it doesn’t mean that the rest of us are helpless children who need guidance and protection. I’m not a boy. I know what I’m doing, where my limits are. If you need someone to fuss over, choose Jungkook or Taehyung. Not me.”The words robbed Jin of speech. He looked at Hoseok as if he was a stranger. In the growing silence, Hoseok seemed to come back to himself and realise that he’d been unnecessarily hurtful. His posture softened as he set his spoon and chopsticks down.“Don’t worry about me, Hyung.” His voice was no longer embedded with thorns. It held the quality of persuasion. “I promise you I’ll not push myself more than what my body can take. After this comeback I’ll take a nice and long break.” He pushed his chair away from the table and rose from his seat. “I gotta get going. Thanks for the breakfast. I’ll see you at practice later.”The front door closed. Jin sighed and stood to clear his table. Beyond the window, the sun peeked past the top of the opposite building and made apartment brighter. That was when Jin noticed Taehyung at the bend that separated the individual rooms from the living space.The younger seemed to be in a daze. He didn’t snap out of it until Jin called his name. He looked at Jin with a worry that indicated he’d overheard the conversation.Jin rolled his shoulders with a nonchalance I knew he didn’t feel. “Well, that went worse than I expected.”Taehyung fidgeted, fingers playing at the hem of his pajamas. “Is Hobi Hyung going to be all right?”“He said he’ll be.”No one in the room, including me, really believed that. More often than not, people who claim to know where their limits are the very people who don’t.“I don’t think I see him smile anymore,” Taehyung said softly.Jin mustered a smile meant to reassure even though he must have been doubtful himself. It was a habit born out of being the eldest in the group, sweeping his emotions aside and forcing himself to be steady so that others could be as well.“It’s the comeback. When it’s over, he’ll go back to being his old self.”Taehyung’s eyes fell. He looked unconvinced, but he said nothing, only nodded.“How about your favourite pancakes with strawberry coulis for breakfast?” Jin said brightly. “I’ll make you caramelised bananas too.”For a moment Taehyung frowned at Jin, as if he wasn’t sure he heard Jin correctly. How could Jin be thinking about fancy breakfast when there was the situation with Hoseok? Then he realized that Jin was trying to cheer him up and the least he could do was to meet Jin halfway.“I want powdered sugar on my pancakes.”Jin grinned. “Anything for you.”::::::::::Hoseok remained steady and intense, the cold but determined light in his eyes never once wavering. The other members shared whispers and worried looks. Many times, I saw the maknae line opening their mouths with the intention of asking Hoseok to slow down, but their voices seemed to die in their throats every time. I didn’t blame them. Hoseok was scary. More so than that, Hoseok had never been someone whom anybody had to worry over. Maybe Hoseok wasn’t actually working more than he should. Maybe it was not that he’d become too intense, but that the rest had been on hiatus for too long and had grown too used to the days where everything happened at their own pace. Maybe Hoseok really hadn’t been destructively pushing himself. Maybe they were just over-fretting.I was starting to believe that myself. Hoseok had lost some weight and grey half-circles hugged the undersides of his eyes, but the rest of him showed no signs of fatigue. His dance was still precise and awe-inspiring, the music he produced still wonderful.Then one day the illusion shattered.It had seemed like it was going to be just another day: Hoseok going to the company first, the other members arriving later, all of them assembling for dance practice and then going their separate ways after it was over — Yoongi retreating to his studio; Jungkook and Taehyung staying back for some more practice; Hoseok overseeing Jin’s and Jimin’s re-recording of parts that he was still unsatisfied with. Then they’d trickle back to the apartment one by one, with Hoseok being the last.That was how the day would have been, had Hoseok not collapsed without so much as a warning halfway through the dance practice, as if he was a marionette and someone had suddenly taken a pair of scissors to his strings. The sound his body made as it struck the floor boomed louder than the pulsing music. His arm would bruise, I was sure.The others froze for a fraction of a second. Jimin was the first to break out of his shock. He dashed to Hoseok’s side and fell to his knees.“Hyung, Hyung, are you okay?” Jimin asked as Hoseok rolled onto his back. Now that his face was fully under the glare of the lights, I noticed how pale he was down to the lips. His chest heaved and his eyelashes fluttered with every laborious breath he drew in, but he was still conscious.The rest of the members converged upon Hoseok. Jin took Hoseok’s other side. Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook hung back to give Hoseok space to breathe.Jin pressed a hand to Hoseok’s forehead. His eyebrows drew together. “You’re running a fever, do you know that?”“I’m—“ Hoseok inhaled shakily, his eyes barely open. “I’m fine.” The words were pushed out along with a wheeze.“You need the doctor.”“No,” Hoseok cut Jin off, managing to sound sharp and forceful despite his current state. “I’m o—” Another wheeze. “—kay. I’m just s-slipped. Give me five minutes and we can go back to prac—”Someone made a noise like a laugh, except that it carried no mirth. It was probably a scoff, the kind of sound that people produce when they heard something that defies common sense and the only way they knew how to react was with a mixture of incredulity and derision.“Are you hearing yourself?” Yoongi asked, the edge of his lips somehow slanted upward in a cold angle.Hoseok breathed once, twice, gathering his strength for a response. Yoongi didn’t give him the chance.“Fuck this, Jung Hoseok,” Yoongi said, his tone glacial. “Go ahead and do what you want, but I’m done watching. I’m out. But know this: when you finally succeed at ruining your body, I won’t be there for your funeral. You don’t deserve it.” He left the practice room before anyone could stop him. The door slammed behind him so hard that its frame rattled.In the aftermath of Yoongi’s cold fury, no one seemed to know how to react.Jin broke the silence first. “I’ll go get some medicine,” he said. His voice was carefully neutral, carrying no connotations of I told you this is going to happen. “If they don’t work you’re going to the doctor.” He got onto his feet and went out of the room.Taehyung swayed a little where he stood. His eyes were wide, its light distant with shock, as if he was still trying to figure out how did things get to this point. Jungkook noticed. He took Taehyung’s hand and gently shook him back to reality. Taehyung startled a little.“C’mon Hyung, let’s go get a drink for Hobi Hyung.”Then Hoseok and Jimin were the only ones left in the room. Jimin had a hand on Hoseok’s arm; whether it was meant to reassure or to prevent Hoseok from getting up, I didn’t know. Hoseok had closed his eyes. Gradually his breaths eased.“Hyung,” Jimin looked sadly down at Hoseok’s face, “do you remember you once told me that when we feel joy in the things we do, others will feel it too?”With some effort, Hoseok opened his eyes open to look at Jimin. “What’s your point, Jimin?” His voice was weak and hoarse, but a note of impatience still jutted out.“I just wish you took your own advice. I don’t think you feel any joy anymore.”Hoseok stared at Jimin, who held Hoseok’s eyes unwaveringly. In the end it was Hoseok who slid his gaze away first. He threw an arm over his own eyes, his jaw flexing.Till Jin came back, nothing more was said.::::::::::The medicine brought Hoseok’s fever down and returned some colour to his cheeks. He had intended to go back to his studio to work some more, but Jin stopped him.“Continue like this and I’ll go straight to Bang PD to tell him that we’re not ready for this comeback.”Bang PD had made it clear that the members’ well-being should come first. He wouldn’t hesitate to postpone the comeback by at least a few months. At the threat, Hoseok threw Jin a sharp glare. Jin did not back down, though he softened a little.“At least take the rest of the day off.”So, against his will, Hoseok went back to the apartment earlier than usual. On Jin’s orders, he finished a bowl of porridge and retired to bed. Truth be told, I didn’t think Hoseok really slept more than a wink or two. There was too much turning of his body. Then Jimin came back to the room and Hoseok restricted the manifestation of his restlessness to the movement of his eyeballs behind his eyelids. It was obvious that he was trying to give the impression of being asleep. I wondered if Jimin was deceived. If he wasn’t, he didn’t probe.At four in the morning, when the house was at its quietest and all its other occupants were most likely to be asleep, Hoseok slipped out of bed. With practiced silence, he got ready and was out of the house before anybody could realise or catch him.He grabbed a taxi to the company. Once he was back in his studio, he started working again. He pulled out the audio files for the tracks that was going to be included on the album. He listened to them again and again, and every time he seemed to pick up something he wasn’t happy with. He jotted them down on a piece of paper, made adjustments to the songs, then played them back again, new flaws (to his ears) popping up every time. Tirelessly, the cycle continued.Stop, I wanted to tell him. They are good enough already. He seemed to have forgotten the lecture Bang PD had given us a long time ago, when we were still fledglings at making music. You can aim for perfection, but you should also understand that perfection is a mythological place you can come close to but never fully reach. Those were his exact words. At some point we simply had to realise that we’d done all that we could for a song and that it was time to let go. Otherwise we would drive ourselves further away from our passion, or worse, drive ourselves out of our minds. How did Hoseok forget that?The doorbell to his studio rang when it was almost noon. The visitor tried the door handle but it didn’t budge for Hoseok’d locked it.“Hyung, it’s me.” Jungkook’s voice came from the other side. “Are you in there?” The question was rhetorical. Jungkook would have already seen Hoseok’s figure through the panel of frosted glass beset in the door.Hoseok sat motionless for a moment, as if hoping that by doing so Jungkook’d get the message and leave. But the maknae was persistent.“Hyung, open the door please.”Hoseok sighed and got up.“Hyung,” Jungkook greeted brightly when Hoseok opened the door. Hoseok stood in the doorway, not stepping back or angling his body away from the door to let Jungkook in. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind, just like how he also didn’t seem to mind the forced patience in Hoseok’s voice as the older asked him what he wanted.“Nothing. Jin Hyung asked me to give this to you,” Jungkook said, extending his arms toward Hoseok. In one of his hands was a cling-wrapped submarine sandwich bloated with ham and vegetables, and in the other was a bottle of almond milk. “He said that you probably didn’t have your breakfast and are probably going to forget your lunch.”Hoseok received the food from Jungkook, looking part surprised and part embarrassed for his attitude. “Say thanks to Jin Hyung for me, won’t you?”Jungkook nodded. “Oh and by the way, Jin Hyung also wants me to tell you to come home early tonight because he’s making dinner and he wants everyone to be there.”I sensed a nervous energy emanating from Jungkook. He spoke too fast, his smile too bright, and his eyes too deliberately innocent. There was also the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot.“I—”“Gotta go now,” Jungkook cut Hoseok off, consulting his watch in a swift, exaggerated motion. “V Hyung’s waiting for me. I’ll see you tonight!” Then he took off before Hoseok could get another word in, his footsteps pattering down the corridor.I thought I knew why Jin had sent Jungkook along as messenger instead of notifying Hoseok through text. With the latter, there was the risk of Hoseok not showing up with the convenient excuse of Oh, I didn’t see the message. And Jungkook was put up to the task because he was the youngest who got away with a lot when it came to Hoseok. It was a well-thought out tactic.So well-thought out that I couldn’t help but feel that something was brewing in the background.::::::::::When Hoseok stepped in through the front door that evening, the air in the apartment loosened with palpable relief. True, Jungkook had successfully delivered the message, but there was still the chance that Hoseok would not show up after all. Now, the members’ worries were laid to rest, as was apparent on some of their faces.“Hyung, you’re back,” Jimin flounced forward to welcome Hoseok. “We ordered jjimdak from your favourite stall.” He gestured good-naturedly at the dish in the center of the dining table.Hoseok looked mildly confused. “What’s the occasion today?”Jin overheard the question as he emerged from the kitchen with a pot of stew. “Since when do we need an occasion to eat together?” He said.Hoseok watched as Jin shifted the other dishes to make space for the stew. He was probably checking for signs that the eldest was unhappy with him for leaving for work without a word that morning. But Jin seemed like his usual self as he ordered Jungkook to get the rice and Taehyung, the cutlery.The members gathered around the table soon after and started to eat. Jin and Jimin did most of the talking, and the rest joined in on and off. They chatted on and off about the trivial, steering a wide berth from the events that happened the day before. For the first time in a while, Hoseok didn’t behave as though eating was a waste of time. Not once did he check his watch. He chewed his food properly before swallowing, and he looked like he was genuinely trying to enjoy the company. Perhaps he was compensating for his recent attitude.Things looked almost normal. I said ’almost’ because there was an oddity to the situation I couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was how Jungkook was too overly focused on shoving food into his own mouth, or the way Taehyung seemed to avoid looking at anyone. Then there was also the tension between Yoongi and Hoseok that everyone else was pretending not to notice. They sat furthest apart and not once did they try to interact with each other.After dinner Jimin suggested watching a movie. Hoseok hesitated, but in the end he couldn’t say no to Jimin’s puppy eyes. The members settled in the living room as Jungkook toggled through the movie library and finally decided on Avengers: Endgame. Jin came out of the kitchen bearing six glasses of makgeolli on a tray. He handed one to Hoseok, who shook his head.“I’ll pass.” All of us heard what he did not say: I’ll pass because I’m going back to work later and I prefer not to have any alcohol in my system.“It’s just makgeolli. A glass wouldn’t hurt.”Jin didn’t look like he was going to budge, so Hoseok took the glass from him. He could have said no, but I guessed he didn’t do that because he was still trying to make up for how he’d behaved.He took a sip, frowning as he swallowed. “It tastes a little strange.”“Really? It’s probably the flavour profile of makgeolli from Jeju-do.”Hoseok shrugged and drank again.Considering that it was a superhero movie, the members watched with an uncannily subdued silence. I began to suspect that they weren’t really paying attention.Hoseok started to yawn. He popped his neck to perk himself up but its effect lasted only a few minutes. He pulled a cushion onto his lap and leaned his head back against the sofa. His eyelids drooped lower, lower, and lower...I looked at the empty glass before him, then at the other members.If Hoseok hadn’t fallen asleep, he would have noticed the same thing I did — the looks of relief the others exchanged, carrying one undeniable message.
Mission accomplished.
TBC
:::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The family-run sikdang in the alley across from Big Hit was popular among the trainees. The lady boss was generous with the portion and the price was easy on the wallet. Not to mention that you could help yourself to as much kimchi and fish cakes as you wanted. Namjoon was on his way there one day when he bumped into Hoseok. He had been waiting for the light to change at the pedestrian crossing when a presence came up beside him a few feet away. He’d looked up automatically. A stiff moment followed when they caught sight of each other. The air crystallised a little, and their shoulders seemed less at ease than a second ago. Hoseok remembered his manners first. He dipped his chin in greeting. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Going for lunch?”
“Yeah.” Namjoon shifted his feet. “How about you?”
“Same.”
Namjoon squinted at the traffic lights through the fog of exhaust fume left behind by the lunch-time traffic. The lights seemed to be taking longer than usual to turn that day.
“So how’s things going for you?” He asked before the pause in their conversation became awkward.
Hoseok shrugged. “All right I guess. You?”
It was Namjoon’s turn to shrug. “The same every day. Practicing producing, rapping and learning how to dance without looking like a flapping chicken.”A heavy vehicle chose that moment to trundle past. Its booming grumble drowned out Namjoon out, so Hoseok did not catch the dry humour in Namjoon’s voice. Namjoon shifted his weight and looked away to hide an embarrassed wince. The green man flashed on not long after.In the five-minute walk it took to get to the eatery, they managed to sustain a conversation, though it was lukewarm at best. They talked a little about Epik High’s new release, about the weather, about where they came from, but they didn’t find a common topic where they could gush enthusiastically over . They couldn’t be blamed. They were only sixteen, still gangly with awkwardness, inhibited by the idle gossip they’d previously heard through the grapevine of each other.Namjoon is Bang PD’s favorite trainee.Are you sure? I could’ve sworn it’s Hoseok.I heard that the company plans to debut Namjoon solo.That’s rubbish. Bang PD doesn’t the money to debut someone solo. Even if he does, Hoseok’s the better choice.
So they had generally stayed out of each other’s way, never going beyond a civil hi and bye when they saw each other in the corridor.
Namjoon pushed open the eatery’s glass door to an explosion of chatter. It was packed with people. Hoseok and he picked their way through the archipelagoes of tables and stools to the front, where they joined the line of people waiting to order. Pasted on the nearby wall was an enlarged menu. They studied it with an inordinate interest to spare themselves from talk ing to each other.
“Hey, hey, have you heard? We’ll be put into pairs for evaluation next month.”
The voice came from somewhere near the corner, standing out even among the bustle. Anyone who’d been in Big Hit long enough would recogni s e the voice, for it belonged to the company’s loudest, nosiest, most gossipy trainee, Kang Seungja. Not just once had others wondered aloud why he was training under Big Hit instead of Dispatch.
“What will we be evaluated on? Do you know?” A second voice asked.
“Songwriting,” Seungja said promptly. A noisy slurp of noodles followed.
From where they were, Namjoon and Hoseok couldn’t see how many other trainees were with Seungja. Their view was blocked by a jutting wall. Three, maybe four, according to the voices that mingled to produce a collective groan upon Seungja’s answer.
“I’m going to fail,” said the second voice morosely.
“Not if you get a good partner,” said Seungja. “Who do you want to be paired with?”
“What’s the point of talking about this?” This new voice was rougher around the edges. “It’s not like we have any say.”
“Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Seungja admonished. “Have you never heard of the power of imagination? You’re more likely to get what you want if you imagine that you get it.”
“What bogus bullshit. I’d have debuted—Ow! What was that for?!”
“For talking about shit when we’re eating,” a fourth voice added pleasantly.
Seungja sniggered. “Thanks, Youngjae, I owe you one.”
“If it’s about songwriting...” the second voice trailed off thoughtfully, “then it’s either Namjoon or Hoseok.”
The line at the counter shortened. Namjoon and Hoseok moved forward, taking great care not to look at each other. From the kitchen, two cooks called out orders as they plopped bowls of noodles and hot plates of sizzling bulgogi onto the collection counter. Namjoon and Hoseok pretended that the kitchen operation held all their interest, not the fact that their names had come up in the lunchtime conversation of their fellow trainees.
“Namjoon, definitely Namjoon,” the rougher voice said without hesitation. “Hoseok’s a nightmare to work with.” The words carried no malice, only the tactlessness of teenagers who had yet grown the diplomacy needed to thrive in society.
“Hoseok is great at writing songs,” the fourth voice interjected fairly, “but—“
“But Namjoon is better,” Seungja finished.
If Namjoon had chosen that moment to look at Hoseok, he would have noticed the way Hoseok’s jaw had tightened. If Hoseok had chanced a glance at Namjoon, he would have seen the apology and embarrassment on Namjoon’s face. Maybe it was good that they were so determined to keep their eyes away from each other. That way they could act like they hadn’t overheard the conversation.
It was almost their turn. Hoseok patted the back pockets of his jeans.
“Oh, I forgot my wallet,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll go back to get it. You go ahead and order.” He slipped out of the line and turned to leave.
Namjoon didn’t stop him, never mind that he had enough money in his wallet to cover for two if Hoseok had indeed forgotten his own.
::::::::::
“How about Hoseok?”
The surprise at hearing his name uttered had Hoseok pulling up short. He’d just been about to turn into the basement alcove where the vending machines were. The ghostly backlit of the machines cast two human-shaped shadows on the floor, one shorter and rounder, the other lean and squarish at the shoulders. Any trainee would be able to identify the shadows as belonging to Bang PD and Son Sungdeok, the performance director and dance instructor, although better known among trainees as the devil’s incarnate.
“You think he’ll make a better leader?” Bang PD asked in reply to Son-seonsaengnim’s earlier question.
“I’ve been watching them train together since we decided to start preparing the kids for debut as a group.” The crack and hiss of a drink can being opened interrupted his words, followed by a gurgle and an exhalation after a swallow. “Namjoon’s softer and too idealistic, which makes me wonder if he’d be able to handle the pressure of being the leader. Not to mention he’s scatter-brained. On the other hand Hoseok’s firmer, steadier. He’s realistic and he knows what needs to be done to steer the members forward as a group, even if that means not everyone agrees with him. That’s a leader right there. You could see it in the way the rest listens to him whenever he speaks. And, you already know this, Hoseok’s more organised.”
There was a thoughtful silence. “You have a point,” Bang PD conceded.
“Still, the choice is yours.”
Feet shuffled forward and Hoseok jolted. Before he could scamper away, Bang PD and Son-seonsaengnim had stepped out of the alcove, each holding a can of drink in their hands. They looked surprised, a little flustered, to see him.
“Hoseok?” Bang PD squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”
Hoseok fixed a guiltless smile on his face. “I’m getting a drink, PD-nim.”
For a moment Bang PD observed Hoseok carefully. The question he desired to ask was obvious. Did you overhear anything? Hoseok kept his expression guileless, as if he was ready to deny any eavesdropping on his end.But in the end, after a long scrutiny, Bang PD said nothing. He reached into his pocket and with a jingle, fished out a handful of coins. He nodded for Hoseok to extend his hand. “My treat.” He said, releas ing the coins into Hoseok’s palm . “Maybe get something for the rest too.”
Later, as he stood alone before the selection of drinks, Hoseok couldn’t help the soft twitch of pleasure pulling up the corner of his mouth.
::::::::::
Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi and Jungkook sat in a row on the faux-leather sofa. Their elbows and knees knocked into each other with even the slightest movement, but there was nowhere else to sit in Bang PD’s shoebox of an office, not even the floor, which was taken up by file boxes haphazardly piled.Bang PD sat behind his table across from them, his fingers locked together on his belly. The conversation started with warm-up questions: how training had been, what dance they intend to practice next. Then it became more serious: did they enjoy training with each other, could they see themselves debuting as a group, whether they had any grievances with the company or each other that they’d like to air.
This was a time where they were not quite Bangtan yet. The group name hadn’t been decided, Bang PD was still on the fence about adding Taehyung, and Jimin was still an undiscovered talent in Busan. Even the bonds between the current five were not as strong as they would later be, but:
Yes, they enjoyed working with each other.
Yes, they wanted to debut as a group.
No, they had no complaints.
Bang PD nodded, though he did not look particularly thrilled or satisfied by their answers.
“I’ve spoken with your trainers and all of us agree that the group needs a leader going forward,” he said. “And Namjoon, we talked about this yesterday, you’ll be the leader for the group.”
Many things happened at the same time. Jin seemed positively relieved that Bang PD hadn’t decided to force the title on him on account of his being the oldest. He broke into a wide smile and patted Namjoon on the knee. Jungkook flashed a thumbs-up, clear eyes bright with adoration. Yoongi seemed like he’d expected the choice, so he did nothing more than dipped his chin to show that he’d heard. Then there was Hoseok, whose hope lapsed into shock, then crumbled into disappointment, before finally twisting into bitterness that he swept quickly under a cool, unperturbed mask. When Namjoon cast his eyes to look at his members, Hoseok even managed to nod at him in acknowledgement.
“I’ll do my best,” Namjoon said, a light flush creeping up his neck.
Bang PD talked to them some more about the group’s future directions before he let them go. They stood up and filed out of the tiny room one by one. Hoseok’d sat on the innermost edge side of the sofa, so he was the last to leave. He was a few steps away from the door when Bang PD stopped him.
“Hoseok?”
Hoseok looked over his shoulder at Bang PD, his face carefully blank. Bang PD waited until the door had swung close behind the others before he continued.
“You understand why we decided to go with Namjoon in the end, right?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Of course I do, PD-nim,” Hoseok said, his voice as calm as his eyes. “There’s no better choice than Namjoon.”
Bang PD did not speak. He only gave Hoseok a long searching look. Hoseok held his eyes in return unflinchingly, his back straight and proud.
“If there’s nothing else, PD-nim, may I be excused?” Hoseok asked.
Bang PD shifted, coming back to himself. A noise that sounded like a sigh passed his lips. He nodded.
Hoseok bowed, turned on his feet, and left without a backward glance.
::::::::::
Namjoon headed straight to Hoseok’s family house the moment he got off the train at Gwangju station. It was Hoseok’s mother who answered the door. She seemed surprised and puzzled to see him.
“Namjoon?
“Ee-mo, is Hoseok in?”
As if on cue, Hoseok appeared behind his mother. Like her, he was surprised, but the emotion was short-lived, giving way to irritation.
“What are you doing here?”
Hoseok’s mother frowned at the animosity in her son’s voice.
“We need to talk,” Namjoon said.
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
Hoseok’s mother looked back and forth from Namjoon to Hoseok, as if trying to figure out what was going on between the both of them. But she gathered herself and smiled cordially at Namjoon. “Why don’t you join us for dinner? You boys can talk after that.”
“No,” Hoseok said. “We’ll talk outside.” He grabbed the keys from the mantel and brushed brusquely past his mother before she could get another word in.
Namjoon gave her an apologetic bow and hurried after Hoseok.
They walked without a word for a good fifteen minutes, Hoseok stalking ahead and Namjoon hanging a little behind. They made a turn into a narrow street between two squat houses and ended up in a deserted playground with a rusty slide and animal spring rockers whose paint was flaking.
Hoseok sat down on the lone bench. Namjoon followed suit. It was past seven-thirty, but it was approaching summer and days were stretching longer, so the sky wasn’t completely dark yet. They sat in the bluish gloom, the occasional footsteps of people walking past the only noise between them.
It was Hoseok who broke the silence, though it was with a sigh first. The walk here seemed to have blown off his steam. His face was no longer tight with annoyance.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There was no reason for me to be nasty.”
Namjoon shook his head to show that he didn’t mind. “Have you not told your mother?”
A bitter smile twisted Hoseok’s lips. ““It’s obvious, huh? I can’t bring myself to do it. She has always been so excited for me to debut. She’ll be disappointed to know that I’ve given it up.”
“I was hoping it was because you haven’t really made up your mind.”
Hoseok stared ahead, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looked like he was searching for words. However when he spoke again, it was not to Namjoon’s words that he replied.
“How’s Jungkook?” He asked instead. Still, he did not look at Namjoon, probably afraid that Namjoon would catch the shadow of guilt flitting across his eyes and use it against him.
“He’s better,” Namjoon replied. “But only after I promised him that I’ll bring you back.”
Hoseok laughed, a weary sound born from years of disappointment. He rubbed his hands together, then steepled them between his legs. His head hung low.
“I can’t keep doing this, you know,” Hoseok said, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “This...this whole cycle of getting my own hopes up and then watching them crash, practicing so hard for what seem like no reason.”
“We are so close to debut, Hoseok. You just need to hang in there a little longer.”
It was true. Bangtan was scheduled to debut on 13 June, about a month from now.
“Then what after debut? Hundreds of idols debut every year. How many actually make it?”
Namjoon didn’t answer. A tabby cat emerged from the shadow s between two shrubs and strolled across the sandy ground.
“Even if we do debut, the chances of us failing are higher than us succeeding. We’re probably going to fade from public’s eye and mind in a few years, and that’s if we get in their eye and mind in the first place. And this, this is what I can’t stand. I don’t want to strive and strive for so many years knowing that I’ll only be mediocre in the end.” Hoseok swallowed. He looked ashamed at what he was about to say. “Being just another idol... that would kill me more than not debuting at all.”
“Are you kidding me, Hoseok? With the amount of talent you have you’ll never just be mediocre.”
Hoseok looked at Namjoon coolly. “And what is talent without luck?” When Namjoon did not answer, Hoseok took his silence as agreement. “Glad that we’re finally on the same page for once.”
“So you believe yourself to be unlucky?” It wasn’t so much a question than a statement.
“I just don’t think that Lady Luck favours me that much to grant me the good fortune needed to surmount the odds and bring me to the place I want to be.”
“But don’t you think that it ’ s too early to be putting the blame on Lady Luck?” Namjoon asked. “I get that our journey up till now hasn’t been the smoothest. Our debut kept getting pushed back and our fate seems to depend on whether or not Bang PD could keep the company afloat. But no matter how bad things seemed for us, hasn’t there always been one door that remains open for us even when all then other doors were closed? Not the best door, but still a door. And haven’t we always taken that door and pushed through with whatever little blind faith that we have? We hang on and we believe. Even now there’s still a door open for you. You have a go at living out your dream. As long as you still have that door open, you can’t blame it on luck. You can’t make Lady Luck out to be the culprit unless you’ve expended all your effort, exhausted all your means, and found yourself at a dead end where the only choice you have is to head backward.” Namjoon paused. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but he steeled himself and then said. “At the moment I think you’re just using luck as your excuse to give up.”
Hoseok’s nostrils flared. The skin over his knuckles whitened as his fingers flexed into a fist. Namjoon’s words hung heavy and raw in the balmy air. It was as though Hoseok didn’t trust himself to speak.
In the end Namjoon spoke again, just as the street lamp next to them flickered on with a hum, embracing them with a dull orange glow. He cleared his throat, as though to chase away his embarrassment.
“Anyway,” Namjoon cleared his throat in what seemed like an attempt to chase away his embarrassment at lecturing Hoseok, “that’s not what I came to talk to you about. After you left, Bang PD and I discussed what we could do to change your mind. He did come up with something.”
Hoseok raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“You can break your contract any time after debut without repercussions. Only you. The company will let you go.”
Hoseok snapped his head up, disbelief freezing his features. “Do the rest know about this?”
Namjoon nodded.
“And they’re okay with it?”
“That’s how much we want you back.”
“You’re crazy. All of you.” Hoseok ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Why, Namjoon, why go to such extent to convince me to return? The six of you can go on to debut without me. I-I... I’m not that important.”
A few moths had gathered around the light, fluttering here and there with excited wings.
“Have you ever heard of the vestibular system?” At the confusion on Hoseok’s face, Namjoon explained, pointing at his own ear, “It’s part of our inner ear and it gives us our sense of balance. If it gets damaged we’ll feel like we’re walking on sponge. That’s how it’s going to be like without you. Sure, we can go ahead and debut as six and it won’t make a difference to the world because they won’t know that we are originally seven. We’ll appear complete in their eyes, but only we know how unsteady we feel, how unmoored, because a part of us is missing. It’s not Bangtan without you, Hoseok.”
Hoseok closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A shaky breath loosened from his chest.
“If I leave Bangtan after debut, it’s going to hurt the group more.”
“It will.”
“And you’re okay with that? Do you know how big a gamble you’re taking?”
Namjoon shrugged. He rested an arm along the back of the bench and stretched the rest of his long limbs out.
“I know,” he said, a small, confident smirk gracing his lips. “But somehow I also believe that once you come back to us, you won’t think of leaving again.”
::::::::::
On the bench against a wall, Taehyung sat shoulder-to-shoulder with another teenager, a member of another group that was about a year more senior than Bangtan. The two of them was huddled over a phone. From the way the other boy was tilting the phone, he must be on some kind of game.
Suddenly the concentration on the boy’s face broke and he emitted a loud groan, slapping his forehead.
“My turn!” Taehyung said excitedly, grabbing the phone that had fallen in the boy’s lap. The boy grumbled, then leaned into Taehyung to watch him play.
Some distance away, Hoseok frowned at the scene before him. He cast his gaze around and located Namjoon sitting in a quieter corner of the cluttered Gayo Daejeon backstage. As Hoseok made his way over, the chatter all around him was punctuated by a few shots of stage fireworks going off for the performance by one of the more prominent groups.
Namjoon took off his earphones when Hoseok sat down next to him, thin-lipped with a mix of disapproval and concern.
“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked.
“Don’t you think that Taehyung should keep himself in check more?” Hoseok nodded in Taehyung’s direction, where Taehyung was jerkily swerving the phone with outstretched arms while his newest friend ooh-ed and aah-ed and added to his panic.
Namjoon looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
The mask that was part of his No More Dream outfit hung around Hoseok’s neck when he was not performing. Hoseok tugged at it uncomfortably.
“Today’s the first time he talked to that boy and he’s already behaving like they are best friends.”
Namjoon rolled his shoulders. “There are just some people whom you click instantly with. L ike that.” He snapped his fingers. A couple of girl group members walked by. Namjoon and Hoseok nodded at them in polite greeting. Hoseok waited until their heels ha d clicked away.
“The problem is Taehyung clicks with too many people. I’m not only talking about other idols, but also the backstage staff, reporters, journalists…” Hoseok’s eyes flashed with distaste and wariness at the mention of the latter two.
“But that’s how Taehyungie is. A social butterfly.”
“Who flutters around with his heart on his sleeve,” Hoseok added, his left leg jiggling impatiently. “What I’m trying to say is that he’s too trusting of others. That kind of personality is going to get him—get us—into trouble in this industry. I don’t need to point this out, do I?”
“And you’re suggesting…?”
“I don’t know,” Hoseok lifted his shoulders up then down, “maybe we should talk to him about at least keeping some measure of guard up.”
Namjoon frowned, his head titled a degree to the left.
“You disagree?” Hoseok asked.
“I understand why you’re worried,” Namjoon began, looking at Hoseok carefully. “But Taehyung has always been a free spirit. Trusting others a hundred percent, baring his soul without restraint… that’s who he is. You’re right, maybe he’ll get hurt in the future. But more than telling him not to behave in a certain way, I think it’s better to make sure that we’re there for him when he gets hurt. He has four Hyungs, one over-protective soulmate, and one quiet but deadly strong dongsaeng to watch over him. He’ll be okay whatever happens to him in the future.”
Hoseok rubbed a hand against his forehead. “We can’t always protect him.”
“True,” Namjoon nodded thoughtfully, “but let’s not pin him down unless we absolutely have to. It’d kill me to do so.”
A whoop of victory sounded from in front of them. Taehyung had jumped out of his seat and was now waving the phone and flailing his limbs in what seemed like a tribal dance. His nose had scrunched up, his eyes had crinkled into crescents, and his lips had stretched into a rectangular-shaped hole that revealed all his pearly whites.
“Besides,” Namjoon smiled fondly, his eyes on Taehyung, “don’t you think that the real Taehyung is the best Taehyung?”
::::::::::
Namjoon had just kick off his shoes in the entryway when Hoseok surfaced from his room.
“Did you just come back?” Hoseok asked, aiming a pointed glance at Namjoon’s shoes as he padded to the kitchen. Namjoon got the hint. He retrieved his shoes from the floor and jammed them into the cabinet.
“Yeah,” he said, sweeping a palm across the back of his neck wearily. “Bang PD wanted to speak to me.”
“About?”
“The usual things. How things are within the group, some ideas about the themes we could explore in the future albums, not to lose sight of who we are etcetera.”
“Seems like a pretty long talk even by his standards,” Hoseok commented.
Namjoon shrugged off his coat and joined Hoseok in the kitchen. “He’s excited at the possibilities ahead of us now that we won an award at the BBMAs.”
Hoseok angled his neck sideways, as though he had difficulty envisioning an excited Bang PD.
“Can’t blame him,” Namjoon continued , filling a glass at the tap . “I don’t think he’d expected us to get this far when he debuted us.”
Hoseok hummed, opening the fridge. His eyes scanned its contents before coming to a stop on the two cans of beer tucked in the bottommost side compartment like a pair of loyal guards.
Namjoon finished the water in one go and set the glass onto the countertop. He interlocked his fingers and pushed his arms upward, his joints emitted a satisfying pop. “I’m heading to bed. Good nigh—“
“If you’re not too tired, how about a drink together?”
Namjoon paused mid-yawn and stared at Hoseok.
“What?” Hoseok asked.
“Did you just suggest we have a drink together?”
“ T hat’s what I said.”
The sleepiness that clouded Namjoon’s face just a second ago was taken over by surprise.
“Why are you behaving like the sun has just risen from the west?” Hoseok asked, amused and tickled.
“Because the sun might as well do that tomorrow and I won’t even bat an eyelid considering the miracle that’s happening now. Didn’t you realise that for every five times I invited you to a drink, you rejected me six?”
“Woah woah, hang on for a bit.” Hoseok held out two hands before him, palms facing Namjoon. Free from his hold, the open refrigerator door wavered slightly behind him. “You’re better at me than math but I’m sure there’s a mistake somewhere in your calculation. Besides, I didn’t exactly reject you. I just said ‘another time’. This is the ‘another time’. So is that a yes or no?”
“Let me wash up first.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hoseok and Namjoon were seated across from each other at the dining table. Between them were the two cans of beer, a packet of vinegared squid for Hoseok and a few sticks of string cheese for Namjoon. They swigged their beers and chatted about the songs they were working on, the funny episodes they had recently witnessed of their hyungs and dongsaengs, the upcoming figurines they were intending to buy. Then as the alcohol warmed their bellies and slowed their nerves, their conversation adopted a lazier cadence before completely petering out.
They seemed fine with the quiet.
Hoseok had an elbow propped on the table and his head resting against a fist. He gazed beyond Namjoon’s shoulder, at the second shelf of the display cabinet in living room where their Billboard award gleamed golden and prestigious. His lips held a hint of a smile that so often reflected a fuzzy contentment.
Hoseok let his eyes drift back to Namjoon.
“When a really good thing happened to you, have you ever felt like no more good things will happen to you ever gain because you’ve used up all your luck for that one thing?” In the few beats when Hoseok paused, Namjoon nodded subtly. “Because that’s how being in Bangtan feels like for me,” Hoseok said. “All those years ago when you got me back into Bangtan… I haven’t properly said thank you.”
Namjoon popped a string cheese out of its vacuum packaging and began to peel it from top to bottom. “You don’t have to. I just did what a leader should.”
“You did what you as a leader would do,” Hoseok corrected. “Because if our roles were reversed, if I was the leader and you were the one who wanted to leave, I’d have told the company to let you go because the group doesn’t need a member who’s not hundred percent sure that he wants to be in. I wouldn’t have chased you down in your hometown so that I could convince you to return.”
“I thought you were lost at that time,” Namjoon said, absently rolling a shred of the cheese between his fingers without any intention of eating it. “You were running away because you were scared. I thought if we showed how confident we are in you, you’d feel the same confidence too and overcome your fears.”
“That’s why you’re our leader.”
“It’s more of the fact that I was part of the original lineup too.”
Hoseok shook his head. “Not only that. Bang PD knew that Bangtan wouldn’t have shone as bright if any one else of us was the leader.”
“I don’t think any of you’d like to be one,” Namjoon joked.
Hoseok smiled, a slight curl of mystery that fleeted pass. “I have to admit that I didn’t always agree with the way you led us.”
Instead of appearing surprised, Namjoon shrugged easily, a lopsided smile on his face. “I figured out as much.”
“In the beginning I thought that you were too easy on us. I thought that Taehyung was too free-spirited, Jimin too insecure and Jungkook too shy. If I had been the leader, I’d have wanted them to be more…” Hoseok tapped his fingers on the surface as he searched for a word. “More adult-like. I thought it’d be safer that way, that we’d run lower risks of getting into controversies. But you thought different. You let all of us be ourselves so that our different personalities can shine through and form a group that’s so quintessentially Bangtan. Namjoon, you’re truly the best leader any group could have and we’re incredibly lucky to have you.”
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hoseok opened his eyes. Last night Jungkook had moved him from the living room to the bedroom. In the pale light that angled through the gaps of the blinds, he blinked slowly. Next to him, Jimin’s bed was empty. I waited for the moment he would freeze in shock and scramble out of bed, struck by the realisation of how much time he had wasted by falling into such a deep sleep.He did nothing like that. For many minutes, he laid on the bed, his gaze listless upon the ceiling. I wasn’t a mind reader, but I thought that he looked desolate, like someone who had...given up.He did get up eventually, when the room turned darker because a cloud had drifted over the sun. His movements were lethargic as he rose. He paused at the door to clutch at his forehead as though waiting for a dizzy spell to pass.He went out of the room, then halted in his steps when he saw Yoongi at the dining table working on a laptop, a thin sheaf of papers sitting next to it. Yoongi being there was no coincidence. He had been waiting for Hoseok to wake since morning, volunteering to stay behind while the rest went out.Sensing Hoseok’s presence, Yoongi looked up, his black-framed glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he did so.“You’re up,” Yoongi said. “You look horrible.”“Thanks,” Hoseok muttered, the words gravelly in his parched throat.“You should drink this.” With a pen, Yoongi tapped at the metallic thermos flask in front of him. “Jin Hyung made it for you. You’ll feel better.”Hoseok staggered to the table, pulled out the chair across from Yoongi and plopped down onto it unceremoniously. He scrunched his eyes shut and pressed the base of his palm into the area between his brows.“What time is it?” Hoseok didn’t say so much as rasped.“Almost three in the afternoon.” Yoongi turned his attention back to his laptop and hit a few keys.Hoseok exhaled heavily, as if he was trying to keep his temper in check. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”“Why would we after the length we went to get you to finally sleep?” Yoongi said as casually as if he was talking about tomorrow’s weather. He had no intention of flinching away from the topic.Hoseok took a few seconds to process Yoongi words. I saw the exact moment where all the pieces fell into their rightful places in his mind. His face darkened.“It was the makgeolli, wasn’t it?Yoongi gave Hoseok a cool glance. “No presents for guessing it right.”Hoseok gritted his teeth. The veins in his pale neck pulsed. “Damn all of you.”“You slept for twenty hours straight, Hoseok. That’s how tired you were.”“Whose idea was it?”“Mine.”Hoseok didn’t look like he was surprised. “I hate you.” The words stretched the space between them. Yoongi looked at Hoseok, as though trying to discern if Hoseok meant his words. But the latter had his hands interlocked before his face.Yoongi sighed inaudibly. He closed his laptop and removed his glasses, setting it to the side. Then he reached for the thermos flask, unscrewed it, and poured the liquid into the cap that doubled as a cup. A gentle curl of steam rose from the light herbal-brown liquid.“Do you remember when you were still a trainee, I carried you and ran for blocks to the hospital after you collapse in the practice room?” Yoongi pushed the cup across the dining table. Its curved body touched Hoseok’s elbow, and Hoseok opened his eyes. “At that time I swore to myself that I’d never let you work yourself to that point again. I almost failed this time. If you want me to apologise for drugging you, I will. But you should also know that I’d do the same thing again even if I could turn back time. I’d do whatever I need to make sure you’re okay.”Hoseok drew in a slow breath. As he exhaled, I sensed his anger dissipating. He rubbed a hand down his face, then picked up the cup, accepting the olive branch Yoongi had extended to him.I could only watch with envy. Yoongi and Hoseok shared a closer friendship than Hoseok and I ever had. They understood what the other needed to hear. They knew how to show that they had forgiven without a word.Hoseok drained the herbal tea and set the cup down.“Where are the others?”“Back at the company.”“I’ll go in later too.”“You don’t have to.”“I won’t overwork myself this time. I just need to tie up some production loose ends.”“Jimin’s already doing that.” Yoongi tilted the flask and filled the cup a second time. “He’s getting pretty good if you haven’t noticed already.”“Then I’ll help Taehyung with his dance.”“Jungkook’s on that.”Hoseok turned the cup between his palms. Ripples formed on the surface of the liquid. “How about the meeting with Bang PD?”“Jin Hyung’ll update him on our behalf.”Hoseok fell silent after that.“Is that it?” Yoongi asked, slightly befuddled. “I’m surprised. I thought you’d be more persistent.”“What would be the point in that?” Hoseok shook his head lightly. A smile had formed on his face. Not the radiant one that we were so used to seeing, but one dark and heavy with the self-condescension it carried. “You just confirmed the confirmed something I’ve know for a long time but was just too proud to admit.”“And that is?”The awful smile was still in place. I itched to erase it because no, such a smile didn’t belong to someone as brilliant as Hoseok.“All those times I believed that I could be a good leader were just wishful thinking on my end.”Yoongi narrowed his eyes.“Did Bang PD ask you to be Bangtan’s new leader?”Hoseok shook his head, chuckling softly. “He did not. That’s what makes me even more pathetic.”Yoongi waited for Hoseok to elaborate. I thought that Hoseok wasn’t going to when the silence lengthened. But eventually he did, relinquishing the burden of his thoughts like a child who could no longer clutch on to the weight of his balloons. My envy reared its head again. I was reminded once more of the fact that Yoongi, despite being a year older, was Hoseok’s closest confidant in the team. Not me.“I dreamed a lot last night,” Hoseok said. “It was all old memories, from when we were still trainees. Namjoon appeared in plenty of them.” He kept his eyes on the cup between his hands. “Do you know that back then, when Bang PD was choosing Bangtan’s leader, he was deciding between Namjoon and me?”I was caught midway between surprise and shock. Back then, I had heard something like this through the grapevine of bored staff and trainees, but I’d brushed it off as an unfounded rumour. The contents wasn’t entirely new to me, but Hoseok’s admission was. From the small crease that formed between his eyebrows, I knew that it was the first time Yoongi’d heard this from Hoseok.“I thought I was the obvious choice.” Hoseok’s smile deepened with that terrible, tired quality. “I thought I was better than Namjoon, less scatterbrained, more well-rounded. I thought I had a better idea of what Bangtan should be like. But Bang PD went with Namjoon in the end. It took me a long time to get over that and find another identity in the group for myself.”Hoseok’s brought to my mind the initial days after I’d been officially appointed as the leader. I had felt like a teenager wearing his father’s expensive suit for the first time, scrawny, awkward and unable to do the clothes justice. It took me two years to start getting used to it. Before that happened, I was a constant victim of bouts of self-doubt, which sometimes translated into impatience with the members. Had Hoseok been irritated by me back then? Had he felt that I was an ungrateful soul who didn’t deserve the position so naturally handed to me?Had I even wanted to be the leader?I had, I realised with a pinch of shame. That was why I didn’t say no when Bang PD asked. Like Hoseok, I thought that I was a good candidate, and until today, that I was the only candidate. Back then I might have even felt a certain teenage smugness about it.Hoseok emptied the tea down his throat. “Still, I have never stopped seeing myself as the co-leader, even thought that meant being the second-best. So when Namjoon passed away and everything fell into disarray, I tried my best to remain steady. It’s what a leader should do. But at the same time,” his eyes drifted shut in shame, “a part of me thought that if I could shepherd the group back on track and sustain our previous success even without Namjoon, I could prove to Bang PD that I could be as good a leader as Namjoon ever was. But all my dreams last night reminded me otherwise. He was outstanding in a way that I’ll never be.” He looked at Yoongi, who hadn’t interrupted him with words of comfort, merely listened. “Do you see now? What a fucked up person I am? One of my brothers died and here I am, thinking about how I could outdo him.”Yoongi took a moment to marshal his thoughts. When he locked eyes with Hoseok, it was without judgement.“When I was lost in my grief, you tried to knock some sense into me,” Yoongi said. “You told me that you’ll not allow me to hurt the others more than I already had. At that time, who was the one talking? The Hoseok who was trying to be the leader so that he could outshine Kim Namjoon, or the Hoseok who genuinely wanted to protect his members?”Hoseok didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.“And when I finally got out of it,” Yoongi continued. “You were happy. Were you happy because you thought you were the one who made it happen, or were you happy out of the relief that I was finally okay?”Again, Hoseok didn’t answer. A short quiet followed, laced by the background hum of the refrigerator.“If I tell you that I once thought to myself that now that Namjoon was gone it was my time to shine,” Hoseok asked painfully, “will you still think that I’m a good person?”Yoongi nodded without any hesitation. “Maybe a little part of you is fucked up, but everyone is fucked up in their own way. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It only makes you human.”“What about the rest of the members? Will they feel the same if they know?”Yoongi made a noise that sounded like a snort. “Trust me, they will. They love you too much. And I don’t think any of us could blame you for having the occasional bad thought because we’re the same. I once wished the stadium would go up in flames because I was too tired to do another concert.”Hoseok broke into a small laugh despite himself. It faded quickly. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a shadow of weariness clouding his face.“I’m so tired, Hyung. Not just physically. I’m tired of trying to be Namjoon and at the same time knowing that I’ll never be him.”“Then take a break,” Yoongi said, plainly and simply, as though the solution couldn’t have been more obvious. “After that you can decide if you want to continue Namjoon’s footsteps, or if you want to make your own.”::::::::::In the end, Hoseok didn’t return to the office that day. After eating a sandwich left in the fridge by Jin, he went back to bed and slept for a few more hours. He woke up an hour before the rest of the members came back, washed up and waited for them to return. He looked a little nervous.At half past eight, all of the members gathered in the living room. The atmosphere was solemn and faces were grim. I knew there and then that Hoseok had called for a meeting, probably via the second group chat that often presaged the foreboding. Hoseok stood while the rest sat on the sofa.And so Hoseok spoke. He stripped away the shiny veneers of J-Hope and laid the insecurities of Jung Hoseok bare for all to see. His voice was low and calm, though every now and then he slipped and let his raw emotions show through the cracks. This was a side of him none of us had seen before, so used were we to his sunny disposition and easy laugh. Was his cheerfulness an act all this time? I didn’t think so. Where there is light, there must be shadows. A merry Hoseok is Hoseok; a gloomy Hoseok is Hoseok too.He told them everything he’d told Yoongi, and then more. He said that he was sick of pretending that he knew what he was doing, and he admitted that he had always felt an ongoing competition between himself and me. It made me wonder if that was the reason why we were friends but not best friends. Whether or not they had intended to, the people around us had always pitted us against each other, stirring a whirlpool of awkwardness that didn’t fully stop churning even after we’d entered well into adulthood.Hoseok spoke for a long time. He held nothing back. It was as if he needed to know that his members could still bring themselves to love him even after witnessing the darkness he carried within him. When he finished, he kept his gaze on the floor, perhaps afraid that if he looked up, he would see disgust on the faces before him.Silence hummed.Then Jimin rose from the sofa and padded to Hoseok’s side. He wrapped a careful pair arms around Hoseok and rested his cheek on the older’s shoulder. Hoseok stiffened in surprise.“Hyung,” the smile on Jimin’s face was sweet with understanding, “you don’t have to feel like you have to be our leader. But if you want to be, then know that every single one of us will support you. You don’t have to do it alone. Let us help you, okay?”Hoseok’s lower lip wobbled. He ruffled Jimin’s hair. “Thank you so much, Jiminie,” he whispered.Jungkook took Hoseok’s other side and mirrored Jimin’s action, cinching his muscular arms around Hoseok’s so tightly that I doubted Hoseok could budge an inch. He nuzzled his face into Hoseok’s shoulder. “Love you so much, Hobi Hyung.”Hoseok broke into a shaky smile. “Love you too, Kook.”Jin flounced forward and threw his arms around all three of them. “You won’t be like Namjoon, but I’m sure you’ll be brilliant all the same,” he said, grinning.“Thank you.” Hoseok shot Jin a smile that was appreciative and apologetic at the same time.“Is that what we’re doing now? A sappy group hug?” Yoongi asked, mock disgust in his voice.Jin rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. “Admit that you love it.”Yoongi tsked, but dragged his feet seemingly begrudgingly to the tight knot of four. Jimin giggled and folded Yoongi into the hug. I caught the telling tic in Yoongi’s lips as he fought to keep his face unimpressed.Suddenly Jin raised his head, as though sensing something was missing. He looked over his shoulder and saw Taehyung hanging back uncertainly from the circle.“What are you doing there? C’mere.”Jin extended a long arm and caught Taehyung by the wrist. Taehyung tripped over his own legs as Jin yanked him forward. But he did not fall. In the last moment, Jin had hooked an elbow over his neck and Jungkook had locked an arm around his waist, securing Taehyung into the embrace.“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Hoseok said. Under the living room’s lights, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.The six of them stay huddled for a long time. I thought the hug was long overdue.::::::::::The next morning, as they were getting dressed to go to the company together, Hoseok asked Jimin casually, “I’ll be staying back a little,” he made it a point to emphasise the word, “later today to work on one song. Care to help me out?”Jimin stared at Hoseok with parted lips for such a long moment that Hoseok was starting to get embarrassed. Then Jimin’s face bloomed with a brightness that could rival the midsummer’s sun.“Okay!”::::::::::In the days that followed, life in the Bangtan household stopped being an movie overlaid with gritty shades and became one imbued with hopeful pastel hues. Everyone seemed happier. All of them agreed that the comeback would be pushed back by a month so that they could take their time with the processes. They still worked hard, but they were easier on themselves. Hoseok showed the most significant change of all. Though he was not as exuberant as before, he smiled more and were more patient with mistakes in the practice room. He seemed more at peace with himself. He did not bring up the topic of being the leader again, and the members did not ask. Maybe they understood as well as I did that Hoseok was already a leader in his own right. He didn’t need the validation of an official title.When the third week of December came about, Bangtan filmed the MV for their title track. I watched all of them. Professional as they were when the filming was going on, their coolness fizzled out and they returned to being into their usual, dorky selves when the director called for breaks. In the corner of the set, Jin stuffed his face with tteokbokki and kimbap, while Yoongi sat near him staring into space, still as a rock could be. Hoseok was engaged in a conversation with the director as they looked over the parts that had been filmed, and Jungkook exchanged exercise tips with one of the staff. Fluffy Yeontan came for a visit too. Jimin and Taehyung were throwing kibbles for him to catch.It seemed like nothing much had changed. It would be nice, I thought, if I could be part of them.A genderless face surfaced in my mind. The man who called himself The Facilitator. The man who gave me my five wishes. He’d told me that I could use up all of them before it was time for me to go, which I supposed meant disappearing from this world for good.I had used four wishes. I still had one wish left.I considered my members before me. Their smiling faces draped me with warmth and relief. They painted a picture as close to complete healing as was possible.If I could hold on to my last wish, then maybe I could be with them forever. I would be invisible, but still here with them as I witnessed their triumphs. I would still be a part of them. I would be able to live through them.That didn’t seem like a bad idea at all.::::::::::The MV filming wrapped up after three days. The members spilled into the apartment, talking over one another. Their excitement was an electric crackle in the air. They wondered animatedly about how the MV would turn out.It was a fresh sight to behold. I guessed it was because it was the first MV for them in a long while. In the past we had gotten so used to filming MVs after MVs that we gradually lost our wonder.Someone suggested having a drink. The others agreed. They unearthed a secret stash of soju hidden away by one of our managers. They sat around the coffee table, popped the caps open to a chorus of hisses, and toasted one another.Their good mood showed. They chattered, cracked inside jokes, and downed bottle after bottle. Hoseok turned a startling shade of red. Jimin giggled over the slightest of things. Taehyung was blabbering to anyone who listened that he loved them to Neptune and back because the moon wasn’t far enough.As usual I watched. It was the only thing I could do. They didn’t talk about me. I didn’t think it was because they were avoiding the topic. They just... didn’t.The jovial atmosphere gradually became subdued as the alcohol settled into their consciousness and their three-hour sleep per day schedule of the past three days caught up with them. Jin and Yoongi were the first to lumber back to their rooms, followed by Jimin, then Jungkook.Still sober, Hoseok took up the task of rinsing the empty glass bottles and then putting them beside the bin. When he came back to the living room, Taehyung had curled himself up on the sofa, eyes closed, a knuckle tucked under his chin.Hoseok nudged his arm gently. “You should go back to your own room. You’ll catch a cold if you sleep here.”Taehyung pouted and shook his head, shying his arm away from Hoseok’s touch. He shifted and slept on.Hoseok sighed. He disappeared and returned with a quilt. He laid the quilt over Taehyung, smoothing the edges down and making sure that no skin was vulnerable to the chill.“Hyung.”Hoseok flicked an upward glance. “I thought you were asleep.”Taehyung looked at Hoseok sedately, as if he was caught on the border between awake and asleep. It suddenly struck me that Taehyung had lost weight. Even half-lidded, his eyes appeared too large for his chiseled face.“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly.Hoseok frowned. “What are you sorry for?”Taehyung looked away, sank his nose deeper into the quilt. “Everything,” he whispered.He did not look like he would say more. His eyes had fluttered close once more. Hoseok shrugged.“Do you want to go back to your room?”Taehyung snuggled into himself. “‘m good here,” he slurred.Hoseok let him be. He turned off the lights in the living room, leaving a lone lamp alit for if Taehyung were to wake up in the middle of the night. Before he went back to his room, he planted a hand on Taehyung’s head and tousled his hair.“Sleep tight, Tae.”::::::::::Jungkook woke up in the middle of the night. Bleary-eyed, he headed out of his room and padded to the nearest bathroom. He stopped at its door. His sleep-laden brain took a good thirty seconds to come to the conclusion that if the water was running from within, it meant that the bathroom was occupied and he should go to the bathroom nearer to the kitchen instead. He turned and stumbled away.On his way back to his room five minutes later, he stopped by the bathroom again. The water was still running, the sound of a steady stream.Later, he would not be able to pinpoint why he decided to knock on the door, but at the moment he did just that, two crisp knocks on the laminated plywood surface.“Hyung?”There was no particular hyung on his mind as he called. There was no answer. Only the running water.“Hyung?” He called again.No answer.“I’m coming in,” he said. A note of worry had wormed into his voice. He no longer sounded sleepy.The knob gave easily under his hand. The unlocked door must have surprised him.The first thing he saw was the water. There was water everywhere. Water at least a centimetre deep. Water tinted pink. Amidst all the water, something metallic glinted in the drainage hole, stuck while the water continued their journey forth.Jungkook trailed his eyes upwards, following a deepening gradient as the pinkish water narrowed into a thinner stream of lighter shade of red, then a morbid scarlet oozing out of flesh.Jungkook’s hand slipped from the knob.It was a nightmare.It must be, because what we saw before us was so utterly terrible and impossible that it could not be the reality. Because there was no reality, no matter how versions we could conceive, where we would find Taehyung slumped in corner of the shower, every inch of his clothes soaked, his face utterly white, his arm lifeless by his side, and blood flowing out, out, out of his wrist.Jungkook screamed.
End of Hoseok's Chapters
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The doctor told us that Taehyung had lost too much blood, that his body had gone into shock, and that they had lost his pulse at one point before they got it back again by injecting him with a drug the name I didn’t register because all I could think at that time was thank god thank god thank god. But in that carefully neutral tone doctors often use when delivering terrible news, the doctor went on to say that Taehyung’s condition was still critical.Taehyung was then moved from the A&E to the ICU. The members followed. They kept silent vigil in the visitors’ area outside the ICU, settling into the couches nearest to the sliding glass doors where they had a view of the nurses’ station. There weren’t anybody else but them.Tonight I finally understood how the members had felt that day other doctors at another hospital tried to save me. I had always known that they must have been worried, scared, desperate, at a loss, in despair, because those were what anybody would feel when someone they loved was in danger. But those simple labels of emotions didn’t do the actual tumult justice. Fear was not just fear; fear was a cold crystal in the pit of your stomach that made you wonder if you’d ever be warm again. Helplessness was the madness to rip your own scalp out so that you could feel a connection with the person by feeling a fraction of the pain they must be feeling. Desperation was trying not to be pulled in by the whirlpool of why why why in your head but failing terribly. Confusion was the sensation of dissociation because how could a person, who just last night was laughing and professing the depth of his love for his team members, choose to put a blade to his wrist?I looked at my members and saw the different manifestations of their shock and fear. None of them had spoken since the doctor gave them the news. Jin had his elbows on his knees, his hands tightly clasped against his forehead. Yoongi kept his eyes on the wall clock, perhaps willing the night to go faster. Every now and then, Hoseok rose to his feet to pace. Jimin sat on the floor with his body turned toward the corner. I couldn’t see his face. As for Jungkook, he cried silently, the knees of his white drawstring pants stained a faint rusty red from where he’d knelt next to Taehyung in the bathroom.Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook took turns to enter the ICU, but not Jimin. Even then they did not enter Taehyung’s ward. They stood in the common hallway and looked at Taehyung through the glass. Taehyung looked like he was sleeping, except we knew that Taehyung didn’t sleep with his back on the bed or his arms neat by his sides. He always needed something to cuddle — a pillow, a plushie, a person — a soft spot to press the tip of his nose into. The four of them did not stay long in the ICU before they found the need to escape. The hyungs held themselves together. Jungkook cried harder.Jin had just come out of the ICU when quick footsteps approached, clobbering against the linoleum floor toward them. Sejin Hyung rounded a corner, bringing with him a trace of the wintry chill outside. He pulled himself short when he saw the members.“What happened?” He asked, breathless.The members lifted their eyes to look at him. In the short silence that followed, Sejin looked as though he expected one of them to crack, burst into guffaws and confess that it was a prank they decided to play since Christmas was just round the corner.“Hyung,” Hoseok said. His voice sounded choked and sore. Just now, he had stepped up to the task of calling Sejin. Jin and Yoongi had got on the ambulance with Taehyung, Jimin had gone mute with shock, and Jungkook had been hysterical. “Taehyung…” Hoseok stopped, scrunched his nose and lowered his head. Sejin didn’t insist. He drew in breath and seemed to steel himself.“What does the doctor say?”Jin answered. I knew he didn’t want to, but he was the oldest. He couldn’t possibly let his dongsaengs feel the pain of saying those words.“He might not make it through the night.”Jin flexed his hands into fists and relaxed them again. Still they shook. He had been the first to respond to Jungkook’s scream. In the flooded bathroom that had reeked of a metallic tang, he had ripped the towel hanging on a rack and shoved Jungkook aside.“Call the ambulance!” He told Jungkook as he took the spot next to Taehyung. He threw the towel over the gash on Taehyung’s wrist and pressed down, his hands fumbling and shaking even though he tried to stay calm. The cloth soaked quickly through with red.When Yoongi appeared, Jin gave him no time to be stunned.“Get me another towel!” He barked over his shoulder, his eyes bloodshot. Then he turned back and laid a hand on Taehyung’s cheek. “Taehyung, please,” he said, “please stop bleeding. Please. Hyung’s begging you, Tae.” Later when he was on the ambulance with Taehyung, he would clasp Taehyung’s other hand and his lips would continue to move silently with the same words.Sejin turned pale. He gave himself a few seconds, then squared his shoulders and stepped back into his role of a supportive manager.“He’ll be okay,” he said decisively. “Our Taehyungie will be okay.”No one said anything to that. That was why the members had been silent, I thought. Words were hackneyed and powerless, only serving to raise false hopes.After tying up the administrative loose ends and making a phone call to Bang PD, Sejin waited with the members. Time took on a different consistency, infuriatingly unhurried yet blessedly uneventful. With the exception of Jimin, the members and Sejin continued to enter the ICU to check on Taehyung. I could feel their hopefulness inching up little by little as morning neared. As long as Taehyung pushed through the night, his organs would start working again. That was what the doctor’d said.The sky began to brighten in the only window of the visitors’ area. A golden flare had just appeared in the eastern portion of the sky when a succession of beeps pierced the silence of the night. Had the glass doors to the ICU been closed, the insistent shrieking probably wouldn’t have travelled out. But just a second before the alarm went off, the doors had parted to let a hospital staff through.Jin sat up straight, alert. The motion had the rest raising their heads, every line of their body strung in tension. Jin rose to his feet and went to the glass. In the ICU a nurse disappeared into Taehyung’s ward and emerged a few seconds, her brows grimly drawn together. She jogged back to the nurses’ station, spoke to a doctor who was jotting something on a clipboard, and the two of them took off for Taehyung’s ward.“No, Taehyung, no.” Jin felt blindly for the button on the wall and pushed at it frantically. The doors had barely slid open wide enough before Jin forced himself through, his shoulders banging into the glass. He rushed to Taehyung’s ward, joined at the back by others.The doctor and the nurse stood over Taehyung. The doctor said something that couldn’t be heard over the machines that were still insistently beeping.Jin snagged the elbow of the nurse as she came out of the room. “What’s going on?”“Sir, please wait outside.”“Tell us what’s going on!” The nurse was unfazed by Jin’s raised voice. It was his broken whisper of “Please” that softened her countenance with sympathy.“He’s going into another shock.”Jungkook emitted a harsh sob. I heard the sharp drag of breath Yoongi took. Hoseok stumbled forward as close as he could to the glass, his face bloodless.Taehyung was hooked up to three machines. The digital digits on the screen of one blinked bright red. The lines next to those numbers were a flatter squiggle, missing the dramatic peaks and valleys of an optimally functioning heart.“He’s going to be fine, right?” Sejin asked.“We’ll do everything we can,” the nurse said. “Please, wait outside.” She hurried away.No one moved. They stood rooted to their spots, watching helplessly as the doctor shone a flashlight in Taehyung’s eyes.Then abruptly and monotonously, Jimin said, “I’m going back.” His eyes were cold and dark, and his jaw was tight. Sejin was the only one who heard him.“Jimin,” he said, but Jimin’d already turned on his heels and started walking away. “Jimin!” Sejin called again. Jimin showed no indication that he’d heard. Sejin looked torn between staying put and giving chase. He made a noise of frustration, told the rest to keep him updated, then stormed briskly off in Jimin’s wake.I only vaguely registered Jimin and Sejin’s departure. Like the others, I couldn’t look away from Taehyung. Maybe we feared that if we did lift our eyes even for a moment, whatever tethered Taehyung to this world would snap. Maybe we believed that our gazes were conduits where we could pass our pleas and wishes along to Taehyung and—Wishes.Wish.My wish.That was right. My wish. I still had a wish left.The relief was a tide that nearly swept me off my feet.How did I forget that I had a wish left? Stupid, stupid me. Taehyung’d be fine as long as I used my wish. Why did I not remember it sooner and make my members go through all this? But it was going to be all right; I could still fix this.Like the four times before, I let my wish uncurl like a sentence with a chain of blank spots to be filled. The words began to fall into their rightful places one by one.“It doesn’t work that way.”The voice was crystal clear in the sea of ambient noises. It wasn’t because the voice was loud, but because it spoke directly to me, and it could do so because its owner existed on the same dimension as I — the dimension parallel but invisible to the living.I stiffened, interrupted. A few feet away from me the person stood, face as genderless as the voice had been, unmarked by ethnicity. Like at our first and only meeting at my funeral many months ago, the person was in a deep blue men’s suit, one end of a golden chain clipped to his lapel and the other dipping into the breast pocket where I knew a pocket watch rested.The Facilitator.He had a hand tucked in his pants’ pocket. There was a casual air around him that didn’t belong in this dire scene.
What doesn’t?
My question was answered before it was vocalised.“Your wishes,” he said. “Rule 13 Clause C: Wishes bestowed, in and on its own, shall not interfere with the course of nature or with mortality. You cannot extinguish a life, neither can you rekindle it.”I stared at him. Throughout my life, I had never been a person who vented his frustration through violence. Words were my preferred outlet. But at this moment I wanted nothing more than to swing a punch at his marble-smooth face. I didn’t know what angered me more: his assumption that I cared about the exact rules that limited the scope of my wishes, or the matter-of-fact tone of his voice that showed that he didn’t really cared what happened to Taehyung. Of course he wouldn’t care. Taehyung was not his brother. Taehyung was just another soul among the countless ones he met every day.But another look at Taehyung and my anger vanished. One more nurse had joined the room. The staff had given up telling the members to leave. The doctor and nurses formed a human wall around Taehyung, but through the gaps between their bodies, I glimpsed Taehyung’s face, ash-white and deathly still.I looked at The Facilitator again.“There’s nothing you can do,” he said, reading my thoughts and my desperation. He halted, tilting his head slightly as though he was trying to read something in the air that only he was privy too. “But he’s not gone yet,” he said, “he could still fight his way back.”The red gash gaping from Taehyung’s wrist flashed before me, so deep that it could only have been created by a decisive slash.Would Taehyung even want to fight his way back?I remembered fighting so hard when it was my life that had hung on a thread. I remembered struggling to push myself out of the sea of pain. I remembered forcing myself to hold on for another moment, another moment. And for all my effort I’d lost in the end. What would it mean for Taehyung, if he wasn’t even trying?A silver of pity flashed across The Facilitator’s face. “Sometimes the body fights for the person too,” he said to me slowly, “ Sometimes the body yanks the soul back even though all the soul wants is to drift.”I didn’t care that he had said that out of consolation. I clung onto the tendril of hope he’d offered.I didn’t believe in any god, but with all my might, I prayed.::::::::::Taehyung made it in the end.I looked around. The Facilitator had gone too. I tried not to think that the reason he’d visited in the first place was how close Taehyung had come to dying, and he was ready on standby to usher Taehyung’s soul to the next world in a moment’s notice, if that was how things worked.The doctor said that Taehyung’s vitals had more or less stabilised, though he wasn’t entirely in the clear yet. The members received the news stoically. I guessed after the worst half an hour of our lives, Taehyung’s being safe at the moment was the most we could ask for. It was good enough for now. If we thought too far into the future, the fear would drive us out of our minds.The members trudged back to the visitors’ area on the nurse’s order, now uncompromising. The moment Jin stepped out of the ICU, he slumped against a wall, as though his legs had been sapped of all strength to keep him upright. The others stood around him and the four them formed a circle. Jungkook yanked the neck of his shirt up to give his face a hasty wipe. It did little to remove the tear tracks that had dried on his cheeks.They were silent for a moment, until Yoongi said, “Where’s Jimin and Sejin Hyung?”They exchanged glances, taking inventory of each others’ faces and realising belatedly that Jimin and Sejin had indeed disappeared. Hoseok took out his phone and called Jimin. When Jimin did not pick up his phone, Hoseok called Sejin, who answered on what seemed like the first ring.Hoseok first told Sejin that Taehyung was fine for now, then asked, “Is Jimin with you?”A beat of pause followed, then Hoseok nodded at the others. They breathed out in relief.On the other end of the line, Sejin said something. A frown appeared between Hoseok’s eyebrows. The others sensed that something was wrong and their shoulders stiffened with unease.Hoseok listened some more. By the time he hung up with an “Okay”, his lips had flattened into a grim line, its corners turned down. “Sejin Hyung said that some of us should go back,” he said. “Jimin isn’t handling this so well.”We should have known, should have seen it coming. As hyungs, we’d often paid attention to the fluctuations in the maknaes’ mood, stepping in to encourage, to reassure or to act as an anchor when we sensed that the younger ones needed that. We had gotten pretty good at that over the years. But today was just one of times we were so overwhelmed ourselves that we simply had no resources to spare. Then I thought of Taehyung and wondered if that was why Taehyung had driven himself to this point. All of us had taken turns to be overwhelmed. When Yoongi tussled with his anger, all of our attention went to him. When Jungkook was at a loss, all we could think of was how we could guide him to the correct choice. Since my death, there was always somebody in the group who was obviously struggling and thus had our immediate concern. But all the while unbeknownst to us, Taehyung had been steadily spiralling out of control and we weren’t there to grab him.Jin pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing the corners of his eyes together. He shook his head and looked up. “You should go back,” he told Hoseok. “I need to stay here. Taehyung…” He dragged in a breath as though speaking the name had knotted his chest. “Taehyung doesn’t like it when I leave him alone in the hospital.” Then he turned to Jungkook. “You should go back too.”Jungkook froze. “I-I can’t,” he croaked. “I need to stay and watch over Taehyung Hyung.”“Jin Hyung and I will be here,” Yoongi said.“Y-you you don’t understand.” Panic crept into Jungkook’s voice. “He didn’t lock the door. Taehyung Hyung didn’t lock the door. I failed him once. I can’t fail him again. Please don’t make me go back.”The hyungs frowned at Jungkook’s gibberish.“The door,” Jungkook insisted, his red and puffy eyes swinging wildly from one hyung to another. “Taehyung Hyung didn’t lock the bathroom door. He was giving us a chance to come and save him. If I’d found him earlier he’d have been safe now. This—”“Jungkook,” Yoongi cut in.“—is my fault. I—”“Jungkook,” Yoongi called again, loud enough that Jungkook jumped and stared at him like a deer caught in headlights, his chest heaving in agitation. “We’re not doing this right now,” Yoongi said firmly. “We’re not saying whose fault it is because we’re all in this together. You should go back. At least take a shower and get some fresh clothes on. You can come back after that.”Yoongi’s gaze landed on the stained patches on Jungkook’s pants. He looked away quickly, but not before his face turned a little paler. I don’t think any of us could ever erase from our memory the scene of Taehyung slumped in the corner of the bathroom. But every glance at those reddish-brown stains threw the image into sharper clarity, rendering Taehyung’s face whiter and the thread of red ribboning out of the wrist brighter.Yoongi drew in a breath and steadied himself. “Do us a favour and go home, Jungkook,” he said. “We’ll watch over Taehyung when you’re gone. We won’t let anything happen to him.”After Jungkook left with Hoseok, Jin and Yoongi stayed in the visitors’ area where doctors and nurses could find them in a moment’s notice. They occupied the two couches in the corner, their heads tipped back against the backrest. Another family had joined the space. They didn’t pay Jin and Yoongi any attention. The father had an arm around the mother, who sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.“I can’t close my eyes without seeing Taehyung and all the blood,” Jin said softly.“I know,” Yoongi replied.“We nearly lost him.”“I know.”“Do you know why I wanted Jungkook to go away?” Jin asked, a tired smile of shame crossing his lips. “I didn’t know how much longer I could hold up in front of him.”Jin was the Hyung. He had to be strong If he had cracked, Jungkook would have splintered further. So he’d held his tears back.“I know,” Yoongi said again.They fell silent after that. There were many things they eventually needed to talk about, but the night had been long and they were exhausted.Yoongi got to his feet. “I’m going to get a coffee. Want any?”Jin shook his head. “I’m good.”Yoongi had taken a few steps when he halted.“Hyung.”“Hmm?”Their eyes connected. I wondered if Jin saw the same profound regret I did in Yoongi’s eyes.“We need to do better for Taehyung.”What Yoongi had said was meant for all of us too. Taehyung hadn’t been okay for a long time. It was so clear now. He had dropped so many hints about his mental state — the panic attacks that started out of nowhere, his dissociation from reality, the nights he had stayed up in the kitchen staring into space — but none of us tried to understand what Taehyung was going through beyond the surface.Jin nodded. “We do.”Yoongi went for a long time. At some point Jin went into the ICU again. This time he didn’t just stand on the other side of the glass. He stepped into the ward. The lights were off and there was no windows to let in the late morning sun, so the room was dim except for the fluorescent glow coming from the nurses’ station. It was easy to lose track of day and night here.Jin dragged the plastic chair closer to the bedside and sat down. On the bed Taehyung looked so utterly peaceful, his long eyelashes resting delicately on his cheeks. Jin reached out and slipped his fingers into Taehyung’s hand.“Hey,” he said. His voice was airy. He tried to smile. “What did I say about getting yourself into the hospital again?”The machines beeped softly, every syllable spaced out and lazy.Then, as though the weight of everything was finally too much for him, Jin’s head drooped forward, and his shoulders began to shake.::::::::::Hoseok and Jungkook froze on the threshold of the living room. It looked as though a tornado had ripped through the apartment. The coffee table had been overturned. Cushions were scattered and magazines ripped. Curtains pooled in puddles by the windows. The display cupboard was open, the figurines, trophies and other knickknacks had been swept out of their places. They laid on the floor, some of them broken.A scraping sound stopped. Sejin looked up from where he had been sweeping up shards of glass. He exchanged a glance with Hoseok.Later Sejin would tell Hoseok what had happened. He would tell Hoseok that Jimin had dashed into Taehyung’s room the moment he stepped into the apartment and proceeded to yank open drawers and upend them to spill the contents. When he was done rooting through the things from the drawers, he had gone on to the wardrobe, and when he was done with the room, he went on to the members’, then the kitchen and the living room. He was deaf to Sejin’s pleas to stop, ending his rampage only when there was nothing left for him to destroy.As Sejin shifted his body, Hoseok’s eyes landed on Jimin. He was slumped on the floor in the middle of the mess, hollow-eyed and spent. Hoseok toed past the broken glass and carefully crouched down next to Jimin. Just as carefully, he put a hand on Jimin’s shoulder.“Jimin, Taehyung pulled through.”Jimin turned his head stiffly. He looked at Hoseok as though he wasn’t sure why Hoseok was telling him that.“Did you hear me? I said that Taehyung’s okay.”“Not even a note,” Jimin said softly, blankly. “He didn’t even leave a note.”Many moments of stifling silence passed before Jimin curled into himself, pressed his face into the crook of his elbow, and burst into tears.
TBC
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Taehyung’s parents had been on a vacation in Prague when they received the news about Taehyung. They caught the first available flight back and Sejin picked them up at the airport. Night had fallen by the time they arrived at the hospital. Jin, Yoongi and Jungkook sprung up from the couches when Taehyung’s parents appeared in the visitors’ lounge. Jin and Yoongi had been at the hospital the whole time, and Jungkook had returned after he’d completed Yoongi’s orders to take a shower and change into fresh clothes. The doctor had declared Taehyung to be out of danger a little while ago. Jin had called Sejin after that, when the latter had been on the way with Taehyung’s parents.Mrs Kim rushed forward and took both of Jin’s hands in her own. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”I saw how my members stiffened at the thankful tears brimming in her swollen eyes.
What’s there to thank us for? We didn’t pay enough attention, didn’t realised that Taehyung needed saving until it was too late.
Maybe she’d realise our guilt later, after her strong emotions of relief had ebbed. In her regained clarity and logic, she’d ask questions.
Did you notice anything wrong with Taehyung?
Yes? Then why didn’t you help him?
No? But how could you not when you spend so much time with him?
Then the blame and accusations would come, landing on our skin like lashes and opening flesh, and we would welcome the pain and shame because that was what we deserved.“Thank you,” she said again. She freed one hand and cupped Jungkook’s cheek, lifting his face upward and thumbing away the tears that were falling afresh from his eyes. She smiled as though to tell him that things were going to be fine. Then she patted Jin’s hands twice before letting go.Jin made to speak, but whatever he wanted to say seemed to die in his throat. The opportunity was lost when Mrs. Kim slipped past him and followed Sejin into the ICU. Mr Kim gave the members a nod and hurried after his wife.The members watched through the glass doors as Mr and Mrs Kim were brought to Taehyung’s ward. They caught the moment where Mrs Kim flinched, her hand jumping to her mouth. They jerked their gazes away in unison. For a second they looked like they didn’t know how to breathe.Jin exhaled, “I need a breather.”The three of them went to the 24-hour cafe on the ground floor. Despite the season, they sat outside, where the winter night quickly chilled their coffees and transformed their breaths into puffs of mist before their faces. Sejin joined them shortly after. He told them that the media was getting wind of this and the company was doing everything they could to keep the rumours as rumours. There was a general sense of lethargy as the members listened half-heartedly, as if the storm brewing outside couldn’t possibly be as terrible as the one they were already trapped in.“You should go back and rest. All of you,” Sejin said.The members’ eyes were rimmed in red. A faint green stubble shadowed their chins. They were exhausted.“But—” Jungkook began but was interrupted by Jin.“We’ll go back,” he said, taking me by surprise. I thought he’d resist. “His parents are here for him.”Perhaps he thought that meant that they — Yoongi, Jungkook and him — weren’t needed now. But I thought the greater possibility was that he couldn’t bear being in the presence of Taehyung’s parents, whose gratitude was more suffocating than the stale, antiseptic air of the visitors’ lounge. If I had been physically there, I wouldn’t be able to do so too. It was impossible to look at Taehyung’s parents and not think of the thousand ways I’d failed.Yoongi nodded. “We need to check on Jimin either way.” Just now, Jungkook had told them that Jimin seemed to have closed in to himself after thrashing the apartment, and Hoseok had stayed back to watch after him.Jin rubbed at his eyes tiredly. As he pushed back from the table, the metal leg of his chair grounded against the pebbled ground. “I’ll just go see Taehyung one more time.”“Jungkook and I’ll wait for you in the car,” Yoongi said. Jungkook looked like he was about to protest, but Yoongi held his puffy eyes and sighed. “We know that you cry every time you see Taehyung.” Yoongi didn’t say it like it was a bad thing. “When you do, Taehyung’s eomma is going to try to console you. Let’s not distract her from Taehyung at the moment, okay? We’ll come back tomorrow morning.”And that was that.When Jin made his way back up to the ICU, only Mr Kim was in Taehyung’s ward. He sat by the bedside, his entire attention on Taehyung so he didn’t notice Jin standing outside. Jin seemed to be content with just watching Taehyung through the glass. His gaze flitted across the vitals on the screens — stable — then lingered for a few moments on Taehyung. Taehyung’s face was still pale, but the rise and fall of his chest was less shallow than before.Safe. Taehyung was safe.Jin turned, about to leave when Mr Kim shifted and looked up. Their eyes connected. Jin froze, as though he was a teenager who had been caught while trying to slip back into the house past curfew.With the glass between them, it was impossible to hear Mr Kim’s voice, but it was easy enough to read the word his lips had formed around. “Seokjin.”Jin had no choice but to go in now. I could sense his nervousness as the glass to Taehyung’s ward slid apart to let him in.“I thought you’d have left. I heard from Sejin sshi that you have been here the whole time.”Jin shook his head. “I should be here. I want to be here.”“Still, thank you.”“Where’s imo?” Jin asked abruptly, desperate to fend off undeserved thanks with a change of topic.“She went out to give the siblings a call.”Jin nodded. His hands twitched by the sides of thighs, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.“Why don’t you take a seat?” Mr Kim suggested, nodding at the extra chair on the other side of the bed that hadn’t been there before. Jin hesitated a little but obliged in the end.“They don’t allow us to stay in the ward for too long,” Jin said as he settled stiffly onto the chair, his back ramrod straight. “Particularly the nurse with the hair done up in a tight bun. She’s a fierce one.”Mr Kim smiled a little. The lines that appeared from the sides of his nose to touch the corners of his lips reminded me so much of Taehyung. Taehyung had the same twin brackets on his face too whenever he smiled.“Thanks for warning me. I’m sure I’ll find ways to convince them to make exceptions for a father who needs to be by his son’s side.” He reached a hand up to caress Taehyung’s forehead, then his voice fell lower. “The flight was the worst. High up in the sky, cut off from the world. The whole time I was wondering if I’d have one fewer son by the time my feet felt the ground again.” It was difficult to look at the heartache on his face, so plain and honest it was.I suddenly remembered the day he brought Taehyung to the dormitory and I met them for the first time to show them around. Taehyung had been fifteen, a scrawny boy whose eyes and nose were still soft like a puppy’s, yet as exquisite as they would later be. He moved like a puppy too, as though he was seeing the world for the first time and calculating when would be a good time to finally unleash his mischief (it didn’t take too long). Before he left that day, Mr Kim said to me, “He can be a handful sometimes, but please take care of him.” He’d bowed too, as though I was an adult myself and not a gangly teenager just a year older than his son. His trust in me had been flattering, and I took his words to heart. In our earlier days, childish jealousy sometimes afflicted Jimin and Jungkook because of the extra attention I gave Taehyung.“Sorry,” Jin blurted suddenly, breaking the moment of silence that’d fallen over them.Mr Kim looked at him, a question resting in his eyes.“We should’ve known,” Jin said, a tightness in his voice suggesting he was harnessing every bit of his willpower to keep it together.Mr Kim did not reply. He tugged the blanket higher up Taehyung’s chest and smoothed the edges. When he was satisfied, his hand slipped lower, found Taehyung’s, and held it gently. His thumb brushed the back of Taehyung’s hand, a slight tremor running through it every time it grazed the bandage over Taehyung’s wrist.“He stopped calling us for a time after what happened to Namjoon,” Mr Kim said. “I thought it was strange back then, but I figured that maybe he needed space to process the loss, so I only left him messages. I trusted that he’d make peace with it eventually, or if he couldn’t, he would come to me and I’d help him out because that’s what he always does. Then he finally called me again. I still remember that conversation. He asked me how Yeontannie was doing, if I’d had my lunch, how my gardening was going. You know, just those trivial topics. He sounded okay, a little down, but still okay. I remember feeling relieved and so proud of him. That’s my son, I thought, strong enough to overcome anything.”His voice cracked. He took a moment to compose himself.“He started calling us again. It wasn’t every day like it used to be, but it was still regular enough to put me at ease. We even talked the night before I went to Prague. He was telling me he’d never been there before and he wished he could go with us. I told him we’d tour Europe together next time and he said okay. I made sure to send him pictures of the castles and old squares I went to. His replies were excited, full of aegyo and those weird symbols—what do you call them? Emojis?” Jin nodded. Mr Kim smiled, his gaze becoming tender when it returned to Taehyung. “I never understood why he’s so fond of using them. They don’t make any sense to me.”Suddenly, a series of insistent beeps went off. Jin jerked, his eyes flying to the machines that stood like sentinels beside Taehyung. But the numbers on the screens were steady and he realised that the alarm, muffled in hindsight, came from another ward. He relaxed, then noticed Mr Kim looking at him, taking in his reaction.“Sorry,” Jin said.Mr Kim’s expression was wistful and thankful. “Taehyung’s so fortunate to have a hyung who loves him so much.”Jin shook his head. “I’m not a good hyung. I let this happen.”“Do you know why I told you all those things?” When Jin did not answer, Mr Kim said, “Because I want you to realise that none of this is your fault. Even as his father, I had no idea what he was struggling with. So no, you couldn’t have known that he’d do this.”“But we live together.”Mr Kim smiled sadly. “I prided myself on knowing my son like the back of my hand.”Jin twisted his fingers together on his lap.“Seokjin,” Mr Kim said, leaning a fraction forward. When Jin finally brought himself to look at him in his eyes, he continued, “I heard what you did to save my son, and for that I will always be indebted and grateful. But I have to ask more from you. I need you to be strong. When Taehyung wakes up, we’ll have a long journey ahead to go for him to be okay again. I need you to be steady. So please don’t blame yourself and let your guilt get in the way. Be fully there for him, won’t you?”::::::::::The doctor said that Taehyung’d come to any time soon, but Taehyung was unconscious through the next day and then more. He must have been exhausted. I recalled the few nights I caught him staying up in the kitchen, doing nothing much other than to sit in a daze. I wondered if there had been more nights like that I didn’t know of, nights of wakefulness he’d spent in his bedroom. What had gone through his head when sleep escaped him? Did he revisit memories of the past, gouging the void I’d left behind wider and wider until he had no choice but to tumble in?His parents stayed with him at the hospital. His brother and sister came too, an air of shock and disbelief around them.Why did he do this? His sister asked when she met Jin in the corridor, her eyes wide and confused and without a trace of blame. Jin found no answer.Other than the family, Bang PD visited too. He offered his comfort and apology to Taehyung’s parents, and the both of them shook their heads and said that this was no one’s fault and he had nothing to be sorry about. I wondered if I’d have been able to muster the same forgiveness if I’d been in their shoes. Bang PD said less to the members. He patted their shoulders, told them to take care of themselves and each other, then headed back to the company to handle the damning media who had started publishing articles full of speculations about Taehyung.Bang PD didn’t stop the members from going to the hospital, but gently reminded them to be discreet. So the members shuttled between the hospital and the apartment, catching a restless wink or two in their beds and heading to visit Taehyung when they realised it was impossible to sleep, possibly struck by the pressing need to see him and assure themselves that he wasn’t going anywhere.But Jimin did not go to the hospital. He hadn’t stepped out of the house since he came back from the hospital that first night. After his outburst, he seemed to have shut down from the rest of the world. He didn’t leave his room, nor did he utter a word, no matter what the others did. When they pushed too hard, he cut them a cold glare. Eventually they gave up. On the surface they left him be, but every now and then they opened the door to his room and took a surreptitious peek in to make sure he didn’t do anything drastic. What happened to Taehyung was lesson enough.Taehyung came to on the third afternoon. Just that morning he’d been moved to a regular private ward a floor below the ICU. The new ward had a window. Mrs Kim had opened a gap in it to let in some fresh air. Breeze fluted gently in and the gauzy curtain swayed, the sunlight filtering into the room muting and brightening in turns. So when Taehyung’s eyelashes fluttered, I’d thought it was a mere trick of light. Then slowly his eyes opened and my heart stopped, then soared.He took in the room, empty of anyone else. Mrs Kim had gone out some minutes earlier. His gaze traversed the span of the ceiling, then flickered from one corner of the room to the other. He had the dazed and lost look of someone who wasn’t sure where he was or how he’d ended up here.The door opened. In Mrs Kim’s hands was a slender vase holding pink and yellow daises, their petals still glistening with beads of water. She froze in her steps when her eyes connected with Taehyung’s. It might only have been a second, it might have been ten. I don’t know because time seemed to have vanished from the space.Then Taehyung closed his eyes and began to cry. It was soundless, just one tear rolling down the corners of his eyes after another. Mrs Kim jolted. She hastily placed the vase on the overbed table and hurried forward.“Everything’s going to be fine, gomsunni, Eomma’s here.”She cupped his face. She could catch his tears with her fingers, but she powerless to stop them. The tears kept on coming, wetting the pillow beneath him.::::::::::Hoseok opened the door to the room and stood at the threshold. His face was relieved, and his voice held a note of excitement.“Jimin,” he said, “Taehyung’s eomma called. Taehyung’s woken up.”Jimin sat on his bed, his legs drawn up and his arms on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of emotion on his face at Hoseok’s words.“We’re going to the hospital. Get dressed. We’re leaving in five.”Jimin didn’t move.Frustration entered Hoseok’s voice. “Jimin, you’re coming with us. We’re not leaving you alone at home.” Hoseok waited, his face tightening in a scowl by the degree. “What’s wrong with y—“Jimin silenced whatever Hoseok was about to say by getting up. He pulled on a jacket and stalked out of the room.Ten minutes later he was on the car to the hospital with the rest of the members.::::::::::Mrs Kim came out of Taehyung’s room just as the members were walking up the corridor leading to it. She closed the door and her shoulders seemed to sag. When she lifted her head and saw them, she shuffled forward to meet them halfway.Her face brightened a little in surprise and relief when she saw Jimin, who did not reflect the same pleasure. His eyes were stonily unfocused, but she didn’t seem to notice as she addressed them. “It’s good to see all of you here.”There was something dazed and confused in her kind smile.“Is something wrong?” Jin asked.“Oh no, no.” She came to herself and shook her head. “the doctor’s already come to check on Taehyung and said that he’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking.” She paused in hesitation. When she spoke again, her voice was pained. “But he won’t say anything. Not to me anyway.” Another pause, then she rolled her shoulders as though to shrug off her hurt. “But I’m sure he’ll talk to you.” She smiled briefly, flapping her hands in the direction of the room. “Go on in. I’ll be outside if you need me.”I didn’t know what they expected when Jin opened the door, but they seemed to stop breathing for a few seconds when they saw Taehyung. He was propped up against the pillow, an IV drip hooked to his arm. In the time that he’d been unconscious, his cheeks had hollowed into gaunt caves. The wide neck of the hospital garb revealed his protruding collarbones.How could someone lose so much weight in a few days?No, I corrected myself. He’d been getting skinnier all this time. I just hadn’t properly noticed, like a dozen other things about him I’d missed when I’d been using my wishes on other members. The fact that he loved wearing oversized clothes didn’t help.The members stood around the foot of the bed. Jungkook picked nervously at the hem of his shirt.“Hey,” Jin said first, his voice gentle.“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asked next.“We missed you,” Jungkook blurted third.They might have as well spoken to a wall. Taehyung didn’t even look at them. His head was angled slightly to the window, which showed no view except for the building next to the hospital and a slim slice of the overcast sky. His face was still as a mirror, his tears ceased.Silence took hold of the room.The ride to the hospital just now had been a restless one as the members tried to find a footing in the tug-o-war of worry and relief. “Let’s not push him,” Jin had said from the driver’s seat. No one objected and he took that as agreement. And that was that. Nothing more was said for the rest of the way. Even so, I’d imagined them rehearsing in their heads the things they’d say, the comfort and encouragement they’d offer when they finally saw Taehyung.But now words seemed to have fled them in face of Taehyung’s unresponsiveness.Jin decided to try again. “We—”Movement flashed next to Jungkook, a blur of black. By the time we knew what was happening, the slap had cracked out like a sharp snap of branch. Taehyung’s head snapped to the side with the force of it, his hair splaying across his forehead.“Jimin!”“Hyung!”Jimin raised his arm again, his hand clenched into a fist this time. Jungkook was faster. He shot forward, shoved his arms under Jimin’s and clamped them up across Jimin’s shoulders. He dragged Jimin back as Jimin strained to break free.Jin was at Taehyung’s side in an instant, examining the rapidly reddening patch on Taehyung’s cheek.“How dare you,” Jimin growled. Gone was the softness in his eyes. His irises were dark with a violent anger so close to deranged madness. “How fucking dare you!” He yelled, his rage ripping his throat raw. “Why don’t you just die already? You should die and spare us!”“Jimin!” Yoongi roared.Jimin’s chest heaved. His body shook. The eyes that had once looked at Taehyung with so much affection were now red-rimmed with hatred. None of us had seen Jimin lose control like this before.A small noise sounded, like a cross between a laugh and a sigh. Jin pulled his hand back from Taehyung’s cheek when he realised that it came from Taehyung.“Then you should’ve let me die.”His voice was had the raspy quality of two sandpaper rustling against each other. It was small, a croak, but it was also steady, and I realised that he hadn’t once cowered or flinched. His eyes were blank pools of nothingness.“Don’t say that,” Hoseok said sharply.Taehyung lifted his gaze to Hoseok, the first time he looked any member in the eye since they’d entered the room.“If you know the truth you’ll wish as much as myself that I’m dead too,” Taehyung said, pain flitting across his face. “It was me,” he whispered, his fingers rucking the fabric of the blanket. “I killed Namjoon Hyung. I’m a murderer.”
TBC
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After I died, I hadn’t consciously revisited the moments leading up to my death. Sometimes, bits and pieces of that day would pass through my mind like clouds drifting across the sky unannounced. I looked away from them every time, for I knew that the only thing that’d come out of such retrospection was a regret over my own clumsiness, which had proven itself to be quite fatal. There was no point, I’d told myself, to dwell in the past when my focus was better placed on helping my members move on.But Taehyung’s confession brought it all back.I remembered the day of the accident. It had happened toward the end of our concert, where everyone in the stadium had been singing along to one of our last songs for the night. Mesmerised by the ocean of purple lights, I’d ventured to the edge of the stage. My spell broke when my foot jammed against a flooring that’d jutted loose. I remembered the lurch in my stomach as I keeled over and fell the two meters to the ground. It wasn’t a long fall, and I’d have survived, only if I hadn’t struck headfirst against a heavy steel beam. The darkness that washed over me had been instantaneous.I thought I only had my clumsiness, my inattentiveness to detail, to blame. Until this afternoon when Taehyung let the secret he’d been harbouring for the past seven months unspool into the light.The truth was, Taehyung’d noticed that something had been wrong with the stage, that the flooring hadn’t been connected quite right. He intended to warn us backstage, but stopped short when the frenzied countdown to our reappearance on the stage buzzed through our in-ear monitors. The concert’s ending anyway, he’d thought to himself, it’ll be fine.An outsider hearing this account would regard Taehyung with sympathy, then comfort him with, “You couldn’t have known.”The people who had an idea how large-scale concerts work — our staff, the company — might tell Taehyung, “You probably didn’t have the opportunity to warn Namjoon with the chaos going on backstage.”Then there were the members. A short-lived silence had descended upon them after Taehyung’d finished. They might blame Taehyung a little or not at all, but I didn’t know at that point in time because they hadn’t shown what they felt. Only Jimin had stomped out of the room, and I knew perfectly well that his display of anger was not because he had felt any injustice on my behalf. Jungkook’d looked confused, like he wasn’t sure how Taehyung had seized on such a small detail and spun it out of control. The rest had looked at Taehyung with sympathy, heartache and regret, but hadn’t brought themselves to berate Taehyung, not even when Taehyung had begged them to, growing more and more agitated by the members’ calm, until Mrs Kim appeared after hearing the commotion and told the members that it was better they left.I was utterly, utterly alone in my emotions.I understood my members. I do. Their reactions were logical and rational. Taehyung might have been careless, but certainly not a murderer. Moreover the terror of nearly losing Taehyung was still fresh and they couldn’t possibly drive Taehyung into the same dead end again.But people could be logical and rational when they weren’t the one who lost his life.I thought of the lyrics I’d be penning, the long and wonderful walks along riversides I’d take along, the time I’d spend with my family and friends, only if my heart still beat. I thought I’d come to terms with my death. I was wrong. I was still a young man who craved to be alive more than anything.And if Taehyung’d warned me, I might still be. True, the backstage provided no opportunities, but couldn’t he have briefly whispered the warning to me on stage? Didn’t he know my bumbling nature, that if anyone was going to fall over the stage, it was likely to be me? And why didn’t he pull me back when—I stopped myself from thinking.My mind was a mess of tangled thoughts. Unraveling them meant that I had to confront a dark, bitter part of me that I hadn’t realised existed till today. I had never thought that I’d have the capacity to hate my members. It terrified me.I made a decision then.Until I could handle the weight of this revelation, I would neither Kim Namjoon or their leader. I’d be a mere observer, uninvolved and unfeeling.Just simply there.::::::::::Yoongi came out of his room in the middle of the night. In the living room, he came across Hoseok half slouching on the sofa. The lights were off except for one lamp. In the relative darkness, the colours from the TV glared and cast a shimmering blue light on Hoseok’s face. Yoongi went over and sat down next to Hoseok, a cushion’s width between them.Hoseok raised the remote control and switched channels. “The TV industry seems to have forgotten how to produce good shows,” he mumbled.Yoongi nodded noncommittally. “Is Jungkook back?”“No.”“Jin Hyung?”“Still at the hospital too.”“How’s Jimin?”Hoseok gave Yoongi a rueful smile. “The reason I had to get out of the room.”A comedic drama played on the TV. The female lead was strolling and scrutinising a piece of paper when the wind whipped it out of her hand. She gave an exaggerated chase, eventually smacking the male lead on his butt because that was where the paper decided to land.Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s lips didn’t so much as twitch.“Do you think that it was Taehyung’s fault?” Hoseok asked without moving his eyes away from the screen.A pause stretched between them.“He could’ve prevented it if he’d said something,” Yoongi said in the end.“Do you blame him?”“I don’t know if you can say that.”Hoseok nodded. “I have mixed feelings about it too. He made a mistake, and I think I do blame him a little. But I don’t think he’s unforgivable. I don’t think he deserve the guilt he has forced himself to carry.”The image on the screen froze with a dramatic flourish. The ending song came on and a sneak preview of the next episode played. Hoseok gave up finding a decent show and turned off the TV.“How did we let things get this bad?” Yoongi asked quietly into the silent living room.Hoseok toyed with the remote control distractedly, passing it back and forth between his palms. “He said sorry to me that night, you know, before he cut himself.” The last two words were spoken in a hurry as if they had become taboo. “I asked him what he was sorry for and he said everything. I thought he was only spouting gibberish. We had quite a few drinks that night after all. If I’d picked up on that and kept an eye on him, then maybe he wouldn’t have...” He let his words hang, then shook his head. “Thinking about it drives me crazy.”“You feel that way and it’s barely a day,” Yoongi murmured. “That was what Taehyung did for the past seven months, chasing after the what ifs and could have beens and blaming himself.”The remote control slipped out of Hoseok’s hands and landed in a muffled thud on the plush carpet.“Shit,” Hoseok said. “I didn’t think of that. Why didn’t he talk to us?” He looked at Yoongi, but the answer, painfully obvious, came to him the next moment. “Right, he was afraid that we’d hate him. But how could he believe that we wouldn’t forgive him when we love him so much?”“Because he saw how much we struggled,” Yoongi said quietly. “I fought with Jin Hyung, Jungkook tried to leave, Jimin nearly became an alcoholic. He must have thought that he was responsible for all the bad things that happened after Namjoon died. So how could he be forgiven? The truth is,” he closed his eyes and blew out a shaky breath, “we drove Taehyung to this point. Every self-destructive thing we did, every time we hurt each other because we didn’t know how to handle our loss, all those things pushed Taehyung deeper and deeper into his guilt until he felt like death was the only way out. He calls himself a murderer for what happened to Namjoon. But the rest of us aren’t any better. We’re murderers too. We are the ones who killed Taehyung on the inside.”Hoseok had frozen over. His chest lifted with the beginning of words, then deflated when he realised that there was nothing he could say. This happened a few more times.“Fuck,” he cursed again in the end. He raked a hand through his hair. “How can this hurt more than it already is?”Somewhere in the apartment, a bedroom door opened and footfalls trailed down to the bathroom. Yoongi and Hoseok didn’t speak until Jimin had gone back to the room. In the lull, Hoseok’s suddenly stiffened.“I remember now,” Hoseok said after he heard the bedroom door clicking shut. His eyes were wide and his voice was hoarse, as though his throat had constricted. “I remember how small and afraid he looked when I got mad at him for messing up the choreography. I was so harsh on him that day, wasn’t I? The Taehyung I know would’ve told me right away that my words were hurtful. But he just stood there and looked like he....like he deserved my anger.” Out of frustration, Hoseok hit himself on the thigh with a fist. “Why did I do that?” He bent forward, put his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. “Why did I make it tougher for him when he was already having such a hard time?”“We fucked up.”“Utterly.”“I thought I was a good hyung.”Hoseok raised his head and turned his head to look at Yoongi, bemused. Yoongi didn’t return his gaze. He kept his eyes distant on a corner of the ceiling.“I wanted to make up for the time I hurt everyone because I couldn’t see past my grief and anger,” Yoongi said, his voice even quieter and lower than before. “I promised myself that I’d pay attention and support you guys whenever you needed it. I told myself that I’d be a good hyung from here on out.” Yoongi’s lips slanted in a humourless smile. “To think that I thought I was doing a good job.”“You’re a good hyung. You helped me, remember?”Yoongi shook his head. “I didn’t do anything for Taehyung. It all makes sense now, his behaviour in the past months, all the times he said sorry, all the times he looked so scared and unsure. I knew that something was wrong, but I did nothing. I looked the other way and convinced myself that he’d get better on his own. So, Hoseok, how can I possibly be a good hyung?”Hoseok took a long time to reply. When he did, he seemed calmer, his earlier agitation quelling into a steadier determination.“Taehyung’s still alive. We will make it up to him.”Yoongi said nothing.“Trust me, Hyung, we’ll get through this. You, me, all of us. We always do. Taehyung’ll be okay again.”Yoongi nodded. He rose from the sofa. His weary movements made him seem like he’d aged a decade in the span of the conversation. “I’m going to bed.”“Hyung, everything’s going to be okay.”“Yes, I know. I’m fine, Hoseok. I’m just tired. You should go to bed too. I’ll see you in the morning.”Back in his room, Yoongi locked the door. Instead of climbing into bed, he curled himself on the floor, his back against the wall. He clamped a hand over his mouth and let his tears flow.:::::::::::Yoongi and Hoseok came to the hospital as Jin and Jungkook went home, as though a baton had been passed. They sat by the bed. Hoseok talked about the harmless stuff – the weather, mostly – cutting a wide berth from the topics that might trigger Taehyung. Next to Hoseok, Yoongi peeled an orange without a word.Taehyung showed no indication that he was listening to Hoseok. He lay on the bed, his face turned toward the window. He seemed to have retreated into his shell, any trace of emotions and tears he’d shown the day before gone.At about four o’clock, Hoseok got up to ask a nurse if tea would be served soon. The air in the room suddenly felt a lot more awkward and stifling without Hoseok to fill in the silence. Yoongi stripped the pith from the orange flesh. After the orange was clean of those white fibrous threads, Yoongi removed a section and extended his hand to Taehyung.“Orange?”Taehyung’s gaze slid to the fruit, then to Yoongi. His eyes were hollow and haunting.“Go home, Hyung,” Taehyung said, throat dry. “I know you don’t want to be here.”A slight tremor shot through Yoongi’s outstretched hand, as though Taehyung’s words had struck a spot uncomfortably close to the truth.Yoongi sighed. He pulled his hand back. “It’s not for the reason you think.”“Not that it matters,” Taehyung said, turning onto his side so that Yoongi was left with a view of his back. “You’ve never liked spending time with me anyway.”Yoongi looked like someone had punched him in the gut. “Taehyung-ah, Hyung’s sorry,” he said, “For many things. For making you feel this way, for making you feel like you had no one else. Can you forgive me and give me another chance?”A food trolley clattered in the corridor. From the next room over, a nurse chirpily announced to a patient that the tea menu was butter shortbread and earl grey brew.“Talk to me, Taehyung.”Taehyung pressed his cheek into the pillow and seemed to curl tighter into himself. When he spoke, it sounded of tears. “Will you and Hoseok Hyung leave me alone and go home please? I just want to sleep.”::::::::::Jin was stirring at a pot when Hoseok padded into the kitchen one morning. Next to the stove was a thermos flask with its lid unscrewed.Hoseok peered over Jin’s shoulder. “What are you making?”“Chicken porridge.”“Smells good.”“You can have some.”Hoseok shook his head. “Taehyung should have all of it.” He pulled away from the counter and sat down at the table. He untwisted the bag of toast and took out a slice. “He hasn’t been eating much, has he?”“Not much at all.” Jin turned off the flame and lifted the pot. He ladled the porridge into the flask. “He only eats when his mum is in the room. Even then he only takes a few bites.”“I’m sure his appetite will return once he smells your porridge.”“It's a stretch, but that’s what I hope. This is the only thing I can do for him at the moment.”Hoseok tore off one side of bread crust. Crumbs fluttered down like minute snowflakes onto the tabletop. “That’s one thing more than me. Nothing I say seems to be getting through to him. Have you seen that look in his eyes?”Jin scraped the last of the porridge into the container. “I know what you’re talking about.”“It’s like he doesn’t see us anymore. It scares me.”“He probably needs time to accept that none of us are blaming him. That’s not easy for him to do when he’d spent the past seven months telling himself that everything was his fault.”Jimin came into the kitchen at that moment. Jin and Hoseok exchanged a glance. Jimin was clean-shaven, his face placid. He would have seemed normal if not for the steel in his eyes or the fact that he didn’t so much as acknowledge Jin and Hoseok.“I was about to go talk to you after I’m done with this,” Jin said, the smile on his face too forced. “Taehyung’s discharging tomorrow afternoon.”Jimin opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice.“He’s going back to stay with his family for the time being, but we’re going to be there to fetch him,” Jin continued.Jimin plucked a glass from the rack over the sink. The juice produced a gurgling sound as it filled the glass.“Come with us, won’t you? I think Taehyung’d like to see you there.”Jimin folded the opening of the carton close and returned it to the fridge. He closed its door, took his glass and was about to leave the kitchen when Hoseok spoke.“How long more are you going to sulk?”Jimin stopped in his tracks.“We know that you’re angry, but don’t you think that you’re going too far? You hit him and said all those things that you don’t mean, shouldn’t that be enough to—”“That’s where you get it wrong,” Jimin interrupted quietly. “When I told him that he should’ve died, I meant every word of it. I still do.”The air stilled as Jin and Hoseok processed what Jimin had just said. Then Hoseok’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened.“You better take those words back.”Jimin stared ahead.“Jimin,” a pleading note had entered Jin’s voice, “don’t do this. Not at this time when Taehyung needs you more than ever.”Jimin smiled as though he’d just been told a joke, but there was no mirth in his eyes. “He doesn’t. He never has. And that works just fine, because I don't need him either.”Jimin took a few steps forward. At the kitchen threshold, he stopped again.“Kim Taehyung…” His grip on the glass seemed to tightened. “He’s as good as dead to me. So stop assuming that I still care.”::::::::::Jungkook wasn’t supposed to be at the hospital at midnight. Visiting hours were over, and the nurses on duty at the regular wards were not as permissive and agreeable as the ones at the ICU. After all the patients on this level weren’t in any danger and families had no need to hold vigil.He was lucky, though. There was only one nurse at the nurses’ station and her back was toward him when he slipped past with silent footsteps. He headed down the corridor. The pale stretch of walls and vinyl flooring was interrupted only by a splash of red from the wall-bound fire extinguisher.At Taehyung’s door, he stopped. He made to knock, then changed his mind. His hand fell onto the lever, and he pushed it slowly and noiselessly down. With the same carefulness, he opened the door, wide enough that sufficient light from the corridor spilled into the dark room and illuminated the figure on the bed.Tension left Jungkook’s body. He seemed to breathe easier.“Jungkook?” Taehyung’s voice came and Jungkook stiffened. “Is that you?”Jungkook cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me. Did I wake you?”“Haven’t been asleep.”Jungkook stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He walked closer to Taehyung and halted hesitantly an arm-length away, as though he was afraid that Taehyung wouldn’t like it if he got too near.Even without the light from the corridor, the room wasn’t entirely dark. A fuzzy glow from the street lamps below and the moon above filtered through the window. In this light, Taehyung’s eyes seemed softer, less distant and guarded than they were in the day.“What are you doing here?” Taehyung asked.“I thought I should come.”“You just left in the evening.”Jungkook shrugged. “I can’t sleep anyway.”Neither of them said anything for the next few seconds.“So,” Jungkook said a little too loudly, clear to anyone that the silence was growing too much for him to bear, “do you look forward to going home tomorrow?”Taehyung’s gaze drifted to the window. “Here. Home. It doesn’t make a difference.”“But Yeontannie’s waiting for you at home. He makes you happy.”Taehyung shifted his head slightly and stared at Jungkook. “You still think I deserve to be happy.”“Of course, Hyung. You deserve it as much as anyone else. You—”“Stop it, Jungkook.” Taehyung closed his eyes. On the rumpled blanket, his hands had balled into fists.“But—”“I know what you’re trying to do but it doesn’t make me feel any less like dying.”Jungkook flinched. “Don’t say that.”“You still don’t get it, do you?” Taehyung whispered. “I killed Namjoon Hyung. Everything that happened that day, everything that happened after, everything you went through, it’s my fault.”“It was an accident,” Jungkook insisted, agitation creeping into his tone. “No one’s blaming you.”“I don’t know how you stand being in the same room as a me,” Taehyung murmured, gaze cast down, as though he hadn’t heard Jungkook. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without wanting to claw my eyes out.” His lips curled, as though he’d just thought of a very funny joke. “Maybe that’s what I deserve. Pain instead of death for a murderer like—”“Stop saying such horrible things about yourself!” Jungkook shrieked.Taehyung startled, jolting back, as if he hadn’t realized that he’d drifted off from reality a second ago.Jungkook brushed an angry fist across his wet eyes. “Nobody wants anything bad to happen to you. We only want you to be okay. We want you to come back to us.”Taehyung stared at Jungkook.An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. A set of efficient footsteps tapped along the corridor outside the room. Taehyung saw the way Jungkook tensed.Taehyung sighed. “They only come in to check on me every other hour. A nurse already came fifteen minutes ago.”Jungkook nodded. He hastily wiped at his eyes again, then walked to the sofa pushed up against the wall. He sat down and slid his fingers together.“Do you remember the conversation about good days and bad days?” Taehyung asked. He looked at the ceiling instead of Jungkook. “You’re wrong, you know. Good days, they don’t always come. At first I thought I was going to be okay too. I thought all the bad things would go away on their own eventually. They didn’t.”“It’s going to be different this time. We’re all going to be here for you.”“You should hate me.”In an instant, Jungkook resembled a porcupine that was once again ready to fight. “I told you we’d never—”“I’m just saying that you should. It’d make things easier.”“Easier for who?”Taehyung had closed his eyes. He didn’t reply.It was easier to believe that he’d fallen asleep.::::::::::The following afternoon, Hoseok was the first out of the members to arrive at Taehyung’s room. Taehyung sat alone on the bed, his legs dangling off the edge. He had changed out of the hospital garb and was in a pale-blue shirt. The window was open and it was a fine day, the kind where a steady breeze blew. The extra fabric billowed around Taehyung’s bony frame.“Taehyungie,” Hoseok called as he stepped into the room. “How are you today?”Hoseok froze suddenly. His upbeat smile fell off his face.It wasn’t that Taehyung didn’t reply or so much as look at him. Taehyung’s unresponsiveness wasn’t new. If Taehyung was merely staring into space, Hoseok wouldn’t have been ruffled either, because that was what Taehyung did most of the time these days. But it wasn’t space that Taehyung was staring at; it was the scissors on the bedside table, left behind by a scatterbrained nurse after Taehyung’s bandages had been replaced.The sharp tip of the scissors glinted in the afternoon light.Hoseok’s eyes flicked from the scissors to Taehyung, then back to the scissors again. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice that Hoseok was there.Hoseok moved slowly, one silent step at a time. He looked like he was holding his breath the whole time, as though afraid that one sudden movement or noise would alert Taehyung and had him grabbing the scissors before Hoseok was close enough to reach it.When a few feet remained, Hoseok darted the rest of the way and snatched the scissors into his fist. He pushed his arm behind his body, hiding the scissors out of Taehyung’s sight.Taehyung blinked, breaking out of his trance-like state as he looked up at Hoseok, eyes wide and confused.Hoseok put on a smile. It shook as badly as his hands and his voice. “All ready to go?”::::::::::The first thing Yoongi saw when he came out of the elevator was Hoseok storming in his direction, his face murderous and pale under the glaring fluorescent lights.At the nurses’ station, he slapped the pair of scissors onto the counter. The two nurses present jumped.“Do you know,” he said coldly, “that one of your incompetent nurses forgot this in the room?”The matron sucked in a breath and glanced at the much younger nurse next to her, who had paled visibly.“It was you then?” Hoseok pinned his gaze on the younger nurse.“S-sorry,” she cowered, “I didn’t know—”“Didn’t know what?” Hoseok boomed. “That he was suicidal? For fuck’s sake, did you think that the cut on his wrist is for decoration?”“We’re terribly sorry,” the matron intervened hurriedly. “We assure you that this won’t happen again.”“Fuck,” Hoseok delivered a kick to the counter. A tottering pile of files tipped over the edge and fanned across the floor. The younger nurse jumped again, but the matron pressed her lip into a thin line.“Sir, you can lodge a complaint to the board, but I will not tolerate any violence toward my staff.”Yoongi stepped forward. He looked at the matron without warmth in his eyes and said, “We’ll certainly file a complaint.” Then he pulled Hoseok away before the situation could further escalate.In a stairwell, Hoseok crumpled onto the bottommost step of a flight of stairs. His head hung, and his heavy breaths echoed in the hollow space.“Have you calmed down?” Yoongi asked a few moments later, when Hoseok’s breathing had somewhat levelled. “I thought you were going to twist off that girl’s neck.”“I can’t do this, Hyung.”“Glad that we’re on the same page. Wouldn’t want you to go to jail.”“I can’t do this,” Hoseok whispered again.Yoongi straightened. “What are you talking about?”Hoseok lifted his face to Yoongi, his eyes red and terrified.“Taehyung… he was about to do it again. If I hadn’t been there…” Hoseok hit his forehead with the heel of his palm. “We saved him the first time, but can we save him the next time? Can we save him every time?”::::::::::Everything was falling apart.::::::::::We can close our eyes from the things we do not want to see, plug our ears from the things we do not want to hear, pinch our nose from the things we do not want to smell, but we cannot stop ourselves from feeling in the utter way we sometimes want.Feelings have a life of their own. They are stubborn. They materialise according to their own whims. You can look the other way and trick yourself that they don’t exist, and like obedient puppies, they may go away. But they will always, always return in one way or another, like a tide of clamouring, determined soldiers crashing through your defences, demanding attention and respect.My wall came down that way, and I was swallowed whole by everything I had stopped myself from feeling for the past three days.There was anger and resentment: At Taehyung, for his mistake that cost my life. At my members, for forgiving him so readily as if I didn’t matter to them. At myself, for feeling that way. At the way things are unfolding, for it felt like the progress we’d made over the past months were coming undone and we were on our way back to the shaky beginning.But louder than the anger and resentment was terror.I couldn’t shake from my mind the longing Taehyung had on his face when he stared at the pair of scissors. Neither could I forget his look of disappointment when Hoseok took the scissors away.Did I want him to make it up to me by taking his own life? Did I even want him to make it up to me? But what good would that be? I would remain dead.I thought of the seven months between my death and the present. All the things that Taehyung’d done made sense now. His desperate apologies, his attempts at compensating for his mistake by making himself small and submissive even when the other members hadn’t been kind or fair to him. He must have been walking on eggshells all this while, afraid of making another mistake because he couldn’t allow himself to make things worse for the others more than he already had. I imagined the cruel things he told himself. I imagined him absorbing the pain and struggle of the other members, feeding that into his own guilt until it consumed him.My heart ached, terribly like never before.It was enough. Taehyung had punished himself enough. He didn’t need another person to do it for him.I have one more wish left. Just one more. I hesitated, then suddenly remembered Bang’s PD words from a few months back.
The living should always come before the dead.
I felt lighter, like I had broken over the surface of the water and taken my first gulp of air. I smiled, shook my head, and made my last wish.
TBC
::::::::::
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
As I stood in the living room of Taehyung’s family house, it occurred to me that this was my first time here. His parents and siblings had moved from Geochang to Seoul a couple of years back. Taehyung’d talked about throwing a housewarming party, but we’d somehow kept pushing it off until it slid out of Taehyung’s mind altogether.The apartment was a luxurious space. The floor gleamed and a stretching window showed a view of Hangang. The mighty river currently glimmered in the nighttime, throwing off fuzzy reflections of lit buildings and sparkling bridges. A few rooms occupied either side of the hallway, and I instantly identified Taehyung’s from the orangey light that diffused out of a parted door. If anyone was awake at this hour, it was surely him.I went into his room. He was sitting on the bed with one leg dangling off the edge and the other folded half cross-legged. His eyes were distant. For a few moments, I forgot what I was here for and simply watched him, the habit of being a spectator for the past seven months having been solidly wired into me.Then Taehyung moved. He raised his head and looked at where I was standing. He blinked twice, sluggishly. A focus gathered in his eyes and I knew in that moment that it was not an empty space that he saw in the place I stood.“Hyung?”“Hey,” I said, fighting the wave of emotions that surged through me. I was relieved that my wish had worked. I hadn’t been sure that it would. And I missed this, I realised, being called hyung.“Namjoon Hyung,” he said again.“Right here.”“You didn’t knock.”I laughed before I could help it. “I didn’t indeed.” I lifted my shoulders and hands palm-up in apology. “I’m sorry.”“Are you here for me?” He asked, head tilting to one side.At first I didn’t understand what he meant, but I saw his hopeful face and it clicked. My heart sank. It became a lot more difficult to keep the smile on my face, but I forced myself to. “Not in the way you think I am.”His face fell. “Oh.”“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked in an effort to distract him.He nodded. As I settled down next to Taehyung, I belatedly noticed Yeontan on the floor, sleeping in his very comfortable-looking doggy bed. His fine fur moved with the hum of the humidifier.“Are you real?” Taehyung asked. He had been watching me closely and unblinkingly, his eyes carrying a hint of wariness.The mattress had dipped under my weight, and the dark grey checkered bedsheets were silky beneath my hands. I looked at the window pane and saw my reflection next to Taehyung’s.“I think I am,” I said.“I thought you were gone,” Taehyung said.“I wasn’t, not really.”I started to tell him what had happened after I died. I told him that on the day of my funeral, a man who called himself The Facilitator visited me and gave me five wishes. I told him that even though they couldn’t see me, I’d been by their side all this time, and that I’ve been using my wishes to help them move on. He listened placidly, as if the workings of life after death didn’t surprise him in any way. I wondered if he thought this was a dream (was it?). That would explain his calm and his higher tolerance for the outlandish.“So I’m dead in the physical sense of the word but not the spirit sense, at least not yet,” I finished.Taehyung wasn’t looking at me anymore. He had pulled both his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.“You’ve been watching us,” he said.“I have.”He swallowed and coiled tighter into himself. “Then you must know that I killed you.”I braced myself for the task ahead and said, “I also know how much you’ve been beating yourself up over it. Watching all of you struggle hasn’t been the easiest on me, but do you know what’s the worst thing I’ve experienced the last seven months?” I let my question hang until it discomfited him and he had no choice but to look at me. I continued, “It was that night at the hospital when the doctors were trying to save you. And do you know what’s the second worst thing?” I paused again. “It’s realising you’ve tormented yourself to the point that you’d choose death over life.” I kept my voice calm, but a weight had formed in my chest just by saying those words. “You made a mistake and I died, I know. But you’ve punished yourself enough for it. It’s time for you to let it go. Enough is enough.”He stared at me, the lamp’s orange light colouring his eyes a deep hazel. “Why are you not mad at me?”“I was, but not anymore. I want you to be well again.”“But it’s my fault that you—”“I know,” I said before he could rile himself up. “I’m not saying that you’re blameless. I’m saying that I forgive you. I forgive you, Taehyung, and I want you to forgive yourself too.”He put his thumb to his lips and began to chew aggressively at his nail, a long-gone nervous habit making its return. He rocked himself back and forth. I felt him retreating back into his shell, blocking me out. My heart sank. Had I been too naive for thinking that my forgiveness was all he needed?“Taehyung.” He jumped like a startled animal when I called him. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”He blinked but said nothing. Just as I’d gotten used to being a spectator, he’d gotten used to keeping his thoughts to himself.“Do you…” My throat was closing up. “Do you still want to die even now that I’ve forgiven you?”His eyes darted away in shame. “It doesn’t feel right for me to live when you’ve died because of me.”“You think you’re making up to me by dying. Is that it?”His non-response spoke louder than a nod of the head or an uttered yes.“If you really want to make up to me, then live,” I said, my tone harsher than I intended. “You’re not doing anyone a favour by dying.”“You don’t understand,” he said.White hot anger shot through me. “Try me.”He trembled. His throat moved. His eyes filled with tears. “I’m in pain, Hyung.” He shook his head to stop me when I opened my mouth. “Don’t say that you understand because even I can’t understand how this much pain is possible. I’m so angry that I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at others for being nice to me when they should be hating me. I’m angry at life for taking away the people I loved one after another. My grandma, my grandpa, my friend, you. Who’s going to be next? I can’t do this. I’m fucking tired. I don’t want to be stuck in this life where it’s so easy to lose people.”I was at a loss for words. Before his confession the other day, I’d assumed that he’d chosen to put a blade to his wrist because his grief had become too much to take. Later, I understood that there was guilt thrown into the mix. I thought that had been it. But now another layer had been peeled away, revealing a hurt that had accumulated from losses over the years, and that hurt had become a fear. I could help him with his grief and guilt, but who was I to soothe his fear, to tell him that I understand, when I’d never experienced losing so many people?Shamefully, I realised that somewhere in my subconscious, I had been convinced that grief and loss were something that people could get used to. Maybe the first time you lost someone would be the worst, but the second time would be less terrible, and the third even less so. Had I assumed that Taehyung’d be the best at getting over my death because of his previous losses? Was that why I didn’t pay him enough attention?I reached an arm out and placed a hand on the square of his back. The warmth permeating through his pyjamas caused my eyes to prickle. I missed this too, this contact.His body vibrated with tears that dripped onto the bedsheets. Taehyung wasn’t someone who cried a lot, but whenever he did, I always felt as though someone had stuck their hand into my guts and messed them up.“I’m sorry for everything we’ve put you through,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if I was qualified to speak on behalf of the other people he’d lost. “Sometimes I don’t know how you endured the things you’ve endured. It’s no wonder you want to give up. But still you must live, Taehyung.”He looked at me with an expression of disbelief and betrayal. His eyelashes, dark and wet, glistened in the light.“You must live,” I said again, knowing that I was selfish for what I was about to say next. “If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for us. Live for us until you’re ready to live for yourself again.”I felt like a hypocrite at that moment. All my life I’d written songs about being brave and chasing our dreams and living our life, yet here I was, telling Taehyung to live for my sake. Taehyung seemed to realise that too. He shoved my arm away like my touch burned him. I saw the anger and hurt in his eyes and tightly clenched fists. On the floor, Yeontan made a small whine, as though sensing his owner’s distress.“You don’t care about me,” Taehyung said.“You know very well that I do,” I told him.He swiped fiercely at his face, the back of his hand coming off wet. “I told you I’m tired. I told you I can’t do this anymore. Did you think I was lying?”“No. I know you’re hurting.”“Then don’t force me to live!” He yelled, breaking into a fresh bout of tears again. “I’ll do anything, anything else but not this. Don’t do this to me, Hyung, please.”I’d told myself what I was doing was for the right reasons, but it was hard not to feel like a jerk. I manipulated his guilt toward me, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to refuse whatever I asked of him.“Carry on living, Taehyung,” I said. I used to give him whatever he wanted when he cried because I was eager to cheer him up. But this time I did not budge. Could not budge. “That’s the best thing you can do for me.”He tilted his chin and looked at me in despair, his tears tracking down the column of his throat. “I hate you,” he said.“That’s okay.” It wasn’t, but I could bear it.Then Taehyung broke down completely. He doubled over in, clutching the sides of his arms as his body convulsed with violent sobs. His head touched the bed and his tears stained the sheets. He cried and cried and cried.I let him. I said nothing. He had bottled up too much sadness and anger and guilt. He needed this release.I waited until his shoulders quivered instead of quaked, until his sobs grew quieter, before I put my hand on his bowed head and stroke his hair. I was relieved when he didn’t jerk away, though he didn’t raise his head either.“You’ll get better,” I said. “It’s easy to think that you won’t because of how tough things are at the moment. But trust me, you’ll get better. And I know this because you always did.”And I remembered that in a dusty closet a long time ago, similar words had been spoken, and I knew I was right.::::::::::
Namjoon rummaged through the equipment rack and located the tangle of sound cables. He took it, flicked the lights off and was about to leave the room when he stopped and cocked his head.
Sniffles were coming from somewhere in the room. He turned the lights back on and traced the sound to the walk-in closet at the back, where bulky audio equipment that had fallen to disuse were stored. He knocked on the closet door.
“Hello?”
The sniffles died abruptly.
“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asked.
Panicked scuffle of feet against the floor.
Namjoon frowned. “I’m coming in, all right?”
When no answer came, he opened the door and found a pair of puffy eyes looking up at him.
“Taehyung?”
Taehyung wiped messily at his face but the tear tracks glistened. Namjoon got down on one knee and levelled his eyes with Taehyung’s.
“What’s wrong?”
Taehyung’s lips trembled. His eyes filled with tears again. “Hyung,” he croaked pitifully, “I miss Halmeoni…”
Namjoon nodded sympathetically. “Do you want me to get Jimin? I saw him in the practice room.”
Taehyung shook his head, digging the base of his palm into his eye. “I’ll be fine.”
Namjoon nodded again and they fell silent.
“Can I?” Namjoon asked, tilting his chin at the space next to Taehyung. Taehyung was surprised, but he scooted further in, and Namjoon settled beside him, tucking his feet under his thighs. In the tiny space, his back leaned flush against a bulky subwoofer, and his shoulders crammed against Taehyung’s.
Taehyung sniffed. “Don’t you have to meet Bang PD?”
“That can wait.”
“I didn’t think I was going to cry again,” Taehyung admitted, hiccuping. “Everyone told me that Halmeoni’s gone to a better place and I think so too. I should be happy for her. I want to be happy for her. Crying makes me feel like a selfish person. She didn’t like seeing me cry. But it’s so hard.”
“She’ll understand,” Namjoon said. “I didn’t get the chance to meet your grandma, but she was an amazing person, wasn’t she?”
Taehyung sniffled . “The best grandma anyone can ask for.”
“Yeah, then she’ll definitely understand why you need to cry. Then when you start to smile instead of cry when you think of her, she’ll understand that too and she’ll be proud of you.”
Taehyung adjusted his legs but didn’t manage to stretch them all the way before his feet met the wall. “It doesn’t make sense how people could be gone so easily,” he said. “It’s not fair.”
“I suppose death is never fair for those who are left behind,” Namjoon said.
“I went to her funeral and saw her in her casket, but every night I still pray that my father’d call in the morning and tell me that there’s been a misunderstanding and she’s still alive. Do you think I’m foolish?”
“I think you do whatever you need to to cope.”
Taehyung blew out his cheeks. “I don’t think I’m coping well.”
“Don’t be so difficult on yourself.”
“They say it gets easier but I don’t feel that way.”
“Give yourself more time.”
“How long?”
“Up to you,” Namjoon said, placing a hand on the Taehyung’s nape and giving it a comforting squeeze. “I can’t claim to know what you’re going through because I’ve never lost someone before, but I imagine that working through loss is like learning how to dance. It’s overwhelming at first but it gets better because you get better. You just have to not stop wanting to be better.”::::::::::We hadn’t exchanged a word for the past half an hour.Yeontan had climbed up the steps at the side of the bed installed exactly for that purpose, lumbered sleepily across the mattress and curled into a fluffy croissant next to Taehyung, who stroke at his fur. The tears had stopped, and Taehyung’d fallen into a sulky silence, making it a point to ignore me. He wasn’t happy with me, I know, but I didn’t mind it so much. At least his current sulkiness seemed like an improvement from the blank-eyed despair of the past few months.So I left him alone, understanding him enough to know that he was working his way to accepting that I wasn’t going change my mind about wanting him to live. I’d wait until he was ready to talk to me again. I had time, I think. This — for lack of better word — thing I had with him didn’t seem to be fading. Everything still felt real, the stack of pillow cushioning my back, the solidity of the headboard against my head, the warmth radiating off the lamp next to me. I’d have to go eventually, but not yet.I occupied myself by taking in the room. A violin case rested against the wall under the window, and next to it was a small chest whose lid was carved with a particular brand of art supplies. I studied the painting on the wall in front of the bed. White faces carrying different expressions — frowns, smirks, wonky eyes, lolling tongues — floated against a violent smear of purple, orange and green. Only Taehyung could have painted an art as quirky as this.Although I tried, I couldn’t understand the painting. Frankly, that wasn’t surprising. The way Taehyung viewed the world was different from mine and perhaps from the rest of Bangtan. Whoever said that he was pure and untainted hit the nail right on the head. In the beginning we mistook those qualities for childishness. His behaviour back then had been a source of frustration for us. I wanted him to be quieter, Jin was irked by his over-the-top energy and Yoongi wondered if he was behaving that way to stand out in the group. We got used to him eventually, but we didn’t begin to appreciate his purity until we waddled deeper into the cutthroat industry, tasted its darker sides, became exhausted and disappointed. While the rest of us emerged from the experience with guarded hearts and a default wariness of people, Taehyung continued to regard the everyone he met with trust, assuming that people were kind and good until they gave him cause to think otherwise. It didn’t matter that he’d be disappointed; it was a price that he was willing to pay.In many ways he never stopped being a child. True, he had mellowed out a lot over the years, became less likely to play pranks or break out into happy dances. But his innocence hadn’t gone anywhere. He still took delight in 1000-won popsicles, still looked at people with genuine curiosity, still put his whole heart into doing the things that he was bad at like he didn’t mind even if his efforts didn’t pay off.I snuck a glance at Taehyung — he was scratching the back of Yeontan’s ears — and found myself hoping that his current ordeal hadn’t shorn away his innocence. I’d understand if it had, but I still hoped that it hadn’t. His purity and innocence had given me strength when I was exhausted. They reminded me of something I once had but had left behind in my haste to grow up. I was pretty certain that other members felt the same. That was probably why we, including Jungkook, babied him the most even though he wasn’t the maknae of the group.It came from nowhere, but I suddenly remembered the time he had to make a passport for the first time to attend our first overseas schedule. He’d been so excited about taking the plane for the first time that his application was rejected because in the headshot he’d submitted, he’d smiled so widely that his eyes and nose were all scrunched up and all his teeth were bared in his rectangular smile. “Photo requirements,” the rejection notification began, “have a neutral facial expression or a natural smile, with both eyes open.” We had a good time poking fun at him for the next few weeks after that, much to his chagrin. It still tickled me.I was smiling to myself when Taehyung called me.“Hyung,” he said.I shook the memory away. “Yes?”“Didn’t you say you were given five wishes?”I frowned at his accusatory tone. “I was,” I said.“And you said you’re not allowed to wish to come back to life, right?”I nodded warily, not liking the direction this conversation was taking.“But can you wish for the both of us to switch places? Maybe that’ll work. One for one, right?”The only thing that kept me from flaring up at him at that moment was the hunch that he was trying to rile me up out of petty vengeance. Call it my sixth sense, but I didn’t feel like he wanted to die that much anymore. There was a stubborn light in his eyes that made him look more alive than before.“My wishes don’t work that way,” I said, keeping my voice patient. “Even they did, why would I wish for that?”He rolled his shoulders like it was a pity. “It’s such a great idea though. Exchanging me for you.”I counted silently to three, like I used to when I felt like my members were pushing at all my buttons but I needed to stay cool because erupting would only make things worse.“It is not a great idea,” I said. “And you need to stop talking like that.”“Like what?”“Like you’re dispensable.”I’d told myself that I wouldn’t erupt, but I hadn’t promised that I’d keep the edge out of my voice. Taehyung cowed. I had seldom spoken to him like this. He avoided my eyes, which I was sure were steely with admonishment.“I’m being realistic,” he muttered. “Anyone’d agree that you’re more important to Bangtan than I am.”His words scattered the dust that’d collected on an old piece of memory. The details returned, and I suddenly remembered that despite his captivating flair and swagger on stage, Taehyung hadn’t been the most confident.::::::::::
“Taehyung, your turn,” Namjoon said as he padded into the living room, towelling his hair dry.
Taehyung sat cross legged on the floor. His elbow was propped on the coffee table, and his chin rested on his palm.
Namjoon edged along the narrow space between a clothes rack and the coffee table and plopped down on the sofa. He glanced at the thoughtful pout on Taehyung’s face, shrugged, then proceeded to point the remote control at the television.
“Hyung,” Taehyung called abruptly as Namjoon flicked between channels. He looked at Namjoon earnestly. “What do you think is my role in Bangtan?”
Namjoon settled on a rerun of Music Bank on KBS. “Is that what you’re mulling over? I was expecting something along the line of ‘Why are pineapples called pineapples when they are neither pine nor apple?’”
Taehyung pouted even more, his lips almost touching his nose. Namjoon decided not to tease him further.
“Why do you ask that?”
Taehyung ran a forefinger distractedly along the line between two floor tiles. ““It just that I’ve been thinking… Everyone else in the group is so brilliant. You write songs nobody else can think of, Suga Hyung has the best rap in the world, Jimin dances like water, Hoseok Hyung dances like a god, Jin Hyung always knows what to say and Junggoo can do anything and everything but…” Troubled puppy eyes. “But what about me?”
“Maybe you’re a little of everything.”
Taehyung let out a large sigh. He laid his head on the table. A side of his cheek squished against the glass-top surface, distorting his mouth so that it looked like a fish’s.
“That’s the same as saying that I’m not particularly good at anything.”
Namjoon smiled.
Taehyung shot him a wounded look. “It’s not funny.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” But the smile on Namjoon’s face deepened. “I just thought you’d realise how unfounded your concerns are if you could see yourself through our eyes. Because little tiger,” Namjoon ruffled Taehyung’s hair, “you lit up every room you walk into. No one else does it like you.”
::::::::::“See, you agree with me,” Taehyung said, misconstruing my silence. He rested his chin on top of his knee, his eyes cast downward, his lips jutting out. Somehow he managed to look equally annoyed and defeated, like it still hurt for someone to confirm something he’d already known.“You misunderstand me,” I told him.He picked at the stitches in his bedsheet. “It’s okay. You don’t have to care about my feelings.”I sighed in that what-should-I-do-with-you way, the breed of sigh that rose automatically in my chest whenever my members were being particularly bull-headed.“I know that this past half year or so has worn you down,” I said. “Maybe you’ve started to believe the things you’ve been telling yourself. Maybe you feel like you’re not worthy to be here.” His throat moved and I knew that I’d hit the nail on the head. My heart ached. “But no matter what you think of yourself,” I said as another memory surfaced, “you’re still precious to us. You give us so much strength, you have no idea.”:::::::::::
Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them a good minute later, nothing much had changed. The writing pad on the table before him was as blank as it had been two hours ago. He stared at it for a few more moments, exhaled in frustration, then got to his feet and left the studio.
The corridors were quiet during the weekend evening. He greeted the few staff members he saw along the way. At one of the studios closer to the elevators, his steps came to an abrupt halt. The door was ajar and Taehyung was alone in the room, hunched over the electronic keyboard.
His eyebrows were pinched in concentration, his tongue peeking out between his lips. He alternated between plinking at the keys and scribbling on a piece of paper. The sounds he produced were largely isolated from one another, as though they belonged to different pieces of music than together. But that wasn’t surprising because he had only recently begun to tinker with composing. However, occasionally, when one listened close enough, snatches of a tune that had the potential to become a song could be gleaned. And Taehyung knows that too, because the joy that flowered on his face rivalled the brilliance of the sun on a perfectly clear day.
Nobody knew for sure what went through Namjoon’s mind as he stood beyond the door, watching Taehyung. Maybe Taehyung reminded him that perhaps the only way to get over his current slump was to find the courage to start, then to finish, and hopefully find joy along the way between the two points. Only Namjoon knew.
But what could be said for certain was that Namjoon pivoted on his feet and headed the way he had come. Back in his studio, he bent over the same writing pad and finally began to write.
::::::::::“So do you believe me now when I say you’re important?” I asked after I had finished recounting the memory to him. He looked a little embarrassed. If the room was brighter, I might have seen a blush on his face.“Do you also visit other members like this to make them feel better?” He asked rather abruptly.I couldn’t help the upward tug at my lips. “I’ll take it that you’re feeling better.”“A little,” he admitted, then grew sad again, releasing a sigh. “But I don’t know how long I’ll stay this way. That Taehyung you described doesn’t sound like me anymore. My head’s in a mess. I’m in a mess. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go back to being sad and mopey and thinking that it’d be better if I just check out.”That was the reality. Taehyung had been dealing with this for so long. It’d be naive to assume that I could reverse the damage with a visit and a few words. I could forgive him and remind him that he was important, but I could only do so much. I could not fight his demons for him. There were things he needed to come to terms with on his own. But I refused to feel powerless because I believed in him.“When you feel that way again, you’ll remember this moment, won’t you?” I said. “You’ll remember that despite the odds, you’re capable of feeling better and hopeful, and you’ll hang in there, won’t you?”He glanced at me. “It’s not like you gave me any choice,” he said, almost petulantly, like a child who was begrudging the fact that he had to settle for chocolate mint ice cream because the other flavours had run out. But I thought I saw the ghost of a smile fleeting across his lips and that became the best thing I heard that night. It felt like he’d made a promise to me, a promise that he’d try to get better.I grinned at him. “Right, I didn’t. How did I forget that?”He looked unimpressed. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he said.For a second I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I remembered.“No,” I said, “I didn’t visit the others.”“Why not?”I had asked that myself sometimes, but the answer was always clear. I was already gone from their lives. There was little point for me to visit them only to leave again. I couldn’t make them experience the same loss twice. I wouldn’t risk them seeking me in their dreams that they forgot to live. So I went the memory route because so much strength could be harvested from the past and be used to fuel a person’s present and future. The past reminds and reassures. The past is always there. Someday I would leave and no longer be around to help them, but my members would always be able to revisit their memories whenever they found themselves at a loss, reminding themselves that they were strong, loved, and important.I told Taehyung all that, then added, “But you’re different.”“Because I’m weak?”“Because you needed the closure that only I could give,” I corrected him firmly. “And maybe you should keep this a secret. They might get jealous if they knew I came to you but not them.”He smiled a little at that. “Will you come and visit me again?”The heaviness in my chest returned. “No,” I said. “This is my last wish. I have to go soon.”He nodded like he had expected the answer. His nose crinkled like he was about to cry, but he didn’t. “Do you know where you’re going?”“I don’t.”“Are you scared?”“A little,” I admitted. “But I think I’m ready.”As I said that, I knew that to be true. I had hesitated when I made my last wish because that meant leaving this world for good. I had wanted to be with my members for as long as I could even if only as an invisible member. But now I knew that even if I hadn’t needed to use my wish for Taehyung, I would choose to leave eventually. In fact I knew it was time for me to go. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but the past seven months had been terribly lonely. I could observe my members but not interact with them. I could watch them make music but not join. I could dream of melodies but not pen them down. Then someday would come where my members would have fully moved on. Maybe I’d still pop into their heads once every now and then, maybe they’d shed a tear or two on my anniversary, but their lives would no longer revolve around patching the gaping hole I’d left behind. I didn’t think I could bear becoming lonelier than I was.“What do you think the other side is like?” Taehyung asked.“I hope it’s a library so I could finally read the books I didn’t have the chance to read in life.”“Will you make new friends?” Taehyung looked so genuinely concerned that it was adorable.“If they want to then yes, sure,” I said.“I can’t imagine why they won’t want to,” Taehyung said. “What if you get bored without us?”“Maybe you can ask your angels to keep me company.”It was a half-joke on my end, but Taehyung nodded solemnly like that was exactly what he was going to do. See how pure he was? He still believed in angels.“I’ll make sure they keep you safe and happy,” he said.I had come to make Taehyung feel better and to a certain extent I’d achieved that. What I hadn’t expected was for Taehyung to do the same for me. I hadn’t thought much about the next place I was going to. I might even have believed that I’d simply wink out of existence. But the place Taehyung painted for me resembled one taken out of a children’s book — soft, welcoming and ultimately hopeful. That might not be the place I’d go, but at least in this moment I felt a lot less fearful.“Hyung,” Taehyung looked at me, his eyes shining. “You’ll be good wherever you’re going, right?”“I’ll be.” I smiled at him. “As long as all of you are well on this side, then wherever I am, I’ll be good too.”::::::::::
“Hyung, do you think I’ll make a good leader?”
Before the makeup station in the waiting room, Namjoon lowered the book he was reading and looked at Taehyung through the mirror. He frowned, as though he wasn’t sure if he had heard the question correctly.
“I knew it,” Taehyung said when Namjoon did not answer. His face crumpled. “You think I’m too childish, don’t you?”Namjoon closed his book, put it on the table, and turned his chair around so that he faced Taehyung. “ Honestly, I have no doubt that you’ll be a good leader if you set your mind to it, but are you sure you want to be one ?”
Taehyung tilted his head and scratched at his neck. “Not really.”
“Then why do you ask?”
Taehyung considered the question for a moment. “I guess I was just thinking about how sometimes you have it so hard as our leader.” He scrunched his nose up. “I should help you in your leader duties, but I think I’ll only make things worse.”
“Your being by my side already helps me a lot,” Namjoon said. “To be honest I don’t want you to be a leader. Not because I think you’ll be bad at it, but because I don’t want you to be saddled by the responsibilities that comes with it . After all, our Taehyungie is the most charming when he’s free.”
Taehyung didn’t look convinced. “But don’t you get tired for always standing between us and the world like you’re our shield?”
“Sometimes,” Namjoon admitted, smiling. “But I’d gladly do that if it means that the rest of you don’t have to. When all of you are good, I’ ll be good too.”::::::::::We talked a lot more after that. I was reminded of many years ago where we were roommates, of our conversations on sleepless nights that meandered aimlessly from topic to topic. Sometimes we’d complained about Bang PD, and sometimes we exposed the softest part of our hearts and talked about the things that we couldn’t bring ourselves to say when the sun was watching.As the night deepened, our conversation fell into a lull. Taehyung had curled up on the bed and Yeontan had fitted himself in the curve of Taehyung’s belly. At some point, Taehyung’d asked if he could hold my hand and I let him. He intertwined our fingers together so tightly like he never wanted to let go.“Go to sleep, Taehyung,” I said when he yawned for the nth time.“Will you still be here when I wake?” He asked in a mumble, fighting to keep his eyes open.“I don’t think so,” I said. I knew I wouldn’t be. Soon I would become invisible to him again. My reflection in the window had already disappeared.He nodded like he had accepted the fact, but his hand trembled ever slightly and I squeezed it.“I’m sorry that you had to use your last wish on me,” he said.“It’s my pleasure. I should have done this sooner.”"I'm sorry that I said I hate you. I didn't mean it.""You were just angry."“I’m sorry for everything I did.”“I know you are, and I’ve forgiven you.”“Thank you, Hyung.”“You’re welcome.”His eyes closed, and his eyelashes cast a fan-like shadows on his cheeks. I thought he had fallen asleep when he spoke again, light as a feather.“Will I see you again in the future?”“I think so,” I said even though I wasn’t sure at all. “Maybe many many years down the road. When that day comes, you need to fill me in with all the things I missed out.”He nodded. “I can do that.”Tears pricked my eyes.“Hyung,” he said again.“Yes?”“How do I know that this is real and not some dream?” He asked through a small yawn, his eyes growing increasingly lidded until they finally closed.I smiled. He could be so sharp.I looked around the room and located his notebook on the bedside table. I picked up the pen clipped to the front.Taehyung had already fallen asleep, soft snores issuing forth. As I put the tip of the pen to his wrist, I couldn’t help but feel like I was pushing at the boundaries of my wish.I drew anyway.::::::::::When morning came and Taehyung woke up, he would hold his arm up in the sunlight streaming through the window, and he would see, on the bandage over his wrist, a doodle of a very sleepy koala bear.
TBC
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I didn’t know for certain what would happen after I had expended my last wish. I had entertained some ideas: maybe I would simply wink out of existence, maybe a portal would open for me, or maybe The Facilitator would appear again and spirit me away. So I was surprised nothing of those sort happened after the slice of reality I’d shared with Taehyung had dissolved. I was not gone. Not yet. I had simply faded back to that invisible dimension parallel to the one my members was in. I became an invisible spectator once more.To tell the truth, I felt kind of like how a student would after staying up the whole night studying for a test he’d been dreading, only to be informed the next morning that the test had been cancelled – a little lucky and a little miffed. Lucky because I had more time than I’d expected with my members, but miffed because the effort I’d spent mentally preparing myself and quelling my own anxiety had seemed rather unnecessary.But I probably shouldn’t complain. If I had ceased to exist the moment I carried out my last wish, I wouldn’t have known that the morning after I had paid Taehyung a visit, Taehyung had sat on the bed for a long while, looking tearful and a little lost. I wouldn’t have known that he would eventually wipe his tears away and whisper a “Thank you, Hyung” into the air. I wouldn’t have known that he would get out of his bed and joined his parents for breakfast, finishing the gyeran bab his mother had made for him and asking for another helping. I wouldn’t have known that he would later go for a walk in the park with his father. I wouldn’t have known that he would call Jin that evening and say that he wanted to see a therapist.And I wouldn’t be here at this moment, watching as he came out of the therapist’s room, the door closing gently behind him.In the clinic’s reception area, Yoongi rose from the cream-coloured couch when he saw Taehyung. Yoongi looked like he wanted to ask a question but had no idea how. Taehyung answered anyway, offering a small, brave smile.“It went okay, I guess.”I knew I probably shouldn’t have, but I had been in the room with Taehyung, convincing myself that it didn’t constitute an invasion of privacy when one’s dead. The therapist was a woman in her late thirties, her long hair bundled back into frizzy tail, her eyes warm with empathy and patience. She asked questions and Taehyung answered them, but other than that, he didn’t talk a lot. Shame and the fear of judgement still held him back. That was expected, and that was okay. It was only the first session after all. The journey to healing was long. What mattered was that he was ready to take the first step.“Where’s Jin Hyung?” Taehyung asked Yoongi.That morning, Jin and Yoongi had picked Taehyung up from his house. Jungkook’d wanted to follow too, but the hyungs agreed that it probably wasn’t a great idea to burden Taehyung with too much expectations. Jungkook hadn’t been entirely pleased, but he compromised after Hoseok told him that they were meeting Taehyung for lunch anyway and they could just wait at the restaurant.“He went to the restroom,” Yoongi said.They sat down on the couch and waited for the lady at the counter to call Taehyung’s name. A stiff air of uneasiness hovered around Yoongi, as if he wasn’t sure how to hold himself. He played with his fingers, sliding and re-sliding them repeatedly. I realised belatedly that Yoongi was uncomfortable with Taehyung. I was confused for a moment, then I remembered the last time Yoongi’d found himself alone with Taehyung had been at the hospital and that hadn’t ended on a good note.Taehyung seemed to notice that.“Hyung,” he said. When Yoongi looked at him, he added, “Thanks for coming here with me today.”Yoongi looked like he didn't know what to make of that. He shook his head in the end and said, “I want to be here.”“Yeah, that’s why I said thanks.” Taehyung grinned and the smile leavened his cheeks into circular mounds. Although he hadn’t gained back the weight he’d lost, following a diet of three meals a day for the past few days had plumped up his face.Yoongi relaxed. His lips quirked lopsidedly, as though he could preserve his coolness if he didn’t break out into a full smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re not angry at me anymore.”Taehyung scuffed his heel against the checkered carpet, his eyes lowered in shame. “I’m sorry,” he said.“It’s okay.”“I just wanted to push everyone away at that time.”“I understand.”Taehyung scrunched his nose in distaste for himself. “I had no right to be angry at anyone though.”“I don’t know if the others think the same as I do, but you definitely had the right to be angry at me because even I was pissed as hell with myself.”Taehyung stared at Yoongi, who looked away with a sigh.“You were kind of right the other day when you said that I didn’t want to be in the hospital with you.” Yoongi pressed his lips together, and I could see that the memory still hurt him. “But that was because I didn’t know how to be around you. It was difficult to see you in so much pain. To be honest, I have no idea how to treat you even now. I worry that I’ll say the wrong things, that something I do will make you think I don’t care about you.”Taehyung listened, his head tilted thoughtfully.“Normally,” he said.Yoongi’s eyebrows twitched in confusion. “What?”“Normally,” Taehyung repeated. “I want you to treat me normally, the way you did before all of this happened.”“And that is?”Taehyung shrugged. “Like I annoy you but you still love and protect me anyway.”Yoongi made a noise between a scoff and a laugh.“I’m not joking,” Taehyung said. A serious note had entered his voice. “I don’t want you to treat me like I’m going to break any moment. I…” Taehyung stumbled in hesitation and his gaze flitted away from Yoongi, onto the painting of tessellated squares on the wall. “I’m dealing with a lot right now. On the inside. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to be truly okay, but I really could do with some normal right now, so treating me normal would be good.”Over the past few days, Taehyung had been showing signs of picking himself up and confronting his ordeal. My visit to him had the effects I wanted, but this was the moment that truly set me at ease — this moment of Taehyung openly admitting to another person that he wasn’t fine and that he was scared, but he still wanted to get better anyway. It made me think that he was ready to get all the help and support he needed to tide him thorough the journey ahead, and what was a greater indication of determination than that?“I’ll try,” Yoongi said.“Thanks, Hyung.”Yoongi leaned back into the couch and his arm overlapped with Taehyung’s. His hand moved and I had to look again to make sure I was seeing right.“Hyung?” Taehyung asked, startled and confused. “You just agreed to treat me normally.”Yoongi gave Taehyung a sideway glance that was almost careless and aloof, but I didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears had gone pink. “Holding hands is normal for us.”“But you’re never the one to do it first.”Yoongi rolled his shoulders as though to say that this couldn’t be helped. He seemed to close his fingers tighter over Taehyung’s hand. “Then I suggest you get used to it.” He then looked away, suddenly interested at whatever the lady at the counter was doing.Or perhaps he was just trying to conceal the fact that he was embarrassed.::::::::::Lunch was at a burger bar in a quiet corner of Gangnam. The restaurant wasn’t a big, but a floor-to-ceiling glass pane showed the street outside and gave the place a sense of space. Hoseok and Jungkook waved enthusiastically from their table when Jin, Yoongi and Taehyung entered.“Here!” Jungkook called. He hadn’t been sleeping much these days. Faint grey circles tinged the area beneath his eyes. But he looked delighted to see Taehyung.Taehyung smiled at him. Then his gaze swept cursorily over the table and I could see him mentally registering the headcount. His face fell, but he reaffixed the smile on his face in the next instant, though not before the others glimpsed his disappointment.As they approached, Jin aimed a silent question in Hoseok’s way. Hoseok shook his head subtly, his lips pressed into a line. Then his grim expression vanished as he beamed at Taehyung in welcome. It had seemed like no one was going to mention the obvious absence, but I forgot that Jungkook was there.“Jimin Hyung had something to do at the company,” Jungkook said — blurted, really — when Taehyung got to the table. The others froze momentarily. Not because Jungkook’d mentioned Jimin’s name, but because it sounded more like a pitiful attempt to make Taehyung feel better than the truth. The three hyungs looked like they were torn between smacking Jungkook on the head and applauding him for daring to mention the elephant in the room.Jungkook fidgeted uncomfortably under the stares. “I mean, Jimin Hyung really went to the company…” He defended himself weakly.“We should order,” Jin said abruptly, cutting Jungkook a thorny glance that rendered the youngest mute. Jin pulled the chair next to Hoseok, and Yoongi took the seat next to Jin.“Right.” Hoseok distributed the menus.“V Hyung, what would you like?” Eager to make up for his earlier faux pas, Jungkook shoved a menu under Taehyung’s nose as soon as Taehyung sat down beside him.“Jin Hyung said that he’ll buy me a double burger.”“Forget Jin Hyung,” Jungkook said, “I’ll buy you a triple.”Behind the menu, one of Jin’s eyebrow lifted. “I can hear you, you know.”“Do you want some sweet potato fries to go along?” Jungkook continued as though Jin hadn’t spoken.The meal managed to proceed in Bangtan’s usual semi-chaotic fashion. Plates of burgers with knives stabbed through their centers, glazed wings and golden criss-cut fries were served and promptly demolished. The members kept the atmosphere light-hearted. Occasionally Taehyung would appear down, his eyes glazing over with distracted thoughts, but on the whole, I knew he was trying his best to enjoy the others’ company. He finished his tall stack of burger and the side dishes the others heaped on his plate. I felt immensely proud of him.“What’s the plan after this?” Hoseok asked, jabbing and stirring at the remnant ice cubes in his glass.Jungkook polished off the last morsel of his burger. “My friend runs an arcade nearby.”“Are you up for that?”It took a moment for Taehyung to realise that Jin’s question was meant for him. He blinked back from whatever daydream he had unwittingly slipped into.“We don’t have to go anywhere,” Yoongi said in understanding. “We can send you home.”Taehyung was quiet for a moment. Then he seemed to pluck up his courage to voice out the thought that had nibbled at his mind throughout the meal.“Actually, can you take me to the company? I want to talk to Jimin.”::::::::::Jungkook hadn’t lied. Jimin was indeed at the company, in one of the basement practice rooms. He moved as one to the fluid music, his fringe swept up into a stubby top knot to keep it out of the way. Taehyung watched him through the glass square beset in the door.The members hadn’t been comfortable with Taehyung’s request and I couldn’t blame them. Jimin’s violence at the hospital and his subsequent detachment of everything Taehyung-related still cast a long shadow. Jin and Hoseok had suggested that they talk as a group, justifiably worried that no one would be there to cushion Taehyung from Jimin’s volatile temper. But Taehyung had shaken his head at that and said that he needed to do this on his own. The others didn’t push, probably aware that if Jimin and Taehyung were to patch things up, they needed to talk it out without others interfering.A compromise was reached in the end. All of them headed to the company, but the rest would wait for Taehyung as he spoke to Jimin. They told Taehyung that they’d be hanging about in one of the studios and they made Taehyung promise that he’d come and look for them after he was done, no matter what transpired between Jimin and him.Taehyung had chuckled at their mother-hen behaviour. “I’ll be fine,” he had said, adding a confident smile to allay their worries. “Jimin doesn’t stay angry at me for very long.”I wondered if, like me, the others had heard the tremble of uncertainty in his voice. They squeezed his shoulders and wished him good luck anyway. He had kept his footsteps jaunty as he walked away, giving the impression that he wasn’t scared of what laid ahead. With the worried glance the others had exchanged behind his back, I believed they were far from fooled, but there was nothing much they could do.Outside the practice room, Taehyung put his hand on the door handle when the music stopped. He waited a bit more, until Jimin relaxed from the ending pose and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. Then Taehyung inhaled a long and deep breath and went inside.Without any music blasting from the speakers, the spacious room amplified the sound of the door opening. Jimin looked up. His gaze connected with Taehyung’s through the mirror.“Hey,” Taehyung said, his lips stretched in a nervous smile. “I brought you food.” He raised the doggy bag in his hand and gave it a shake.Jimin stared at Taehyung through the mirror. He wasn’t glaring, because glaring would denote that some emotion was involved. Instead his eyes were frosty on his stony face, like they were beholding someone who wasn’t worth any emotional investment.“I got you a cheese avocado burger, medium rare. And also chilli fries. Jungkook said that they make wicked chilli corn carne,” Taehyung rattled off. His words stumbled over one another in panic as Jimin walked to one side of the room and gathered his belongings. “There’s lemonade too. I asked them to make it as sour as they could, the way you like it,” he said, as though that would convince Jimin to stay.Jimin hoisted the strap of his duffle bag onto his shoulder and strode to the door. Taehyung dropped the food bags on the floor with a crinkle.“Wait.” He shot forward, throwing himself in front of the exit just as Jimin was about to reach for the handle.“Get out of the way.” Jimin’s voice was as icy as the light in his eyes.“Please, Jimin, can we talk?”“I have nothing to say to you.”Taehyung stood firm. “Then listen to what I have to say. I’ve been thinking a lot these few days. I’m sorry, Jimin. I’m sorry that I hurt you with what I did. If I were you I’d have been mad too. I—”“Are you finished?” Jimin interrupted.Taehyung stiffened, a breath held in his throat.“What are you expecting by apologising to me? My forgiveness? Us to go back to being soulmates?” Jimin said the word like it left a disgusting taste in his mouth. “If so stop wasting your time and mine.” He sneered in derision. “I don’t want anything to do with you. Now get out of my way.”“Jimin, please.”“Don’t make me repeat myself.”I had hoped that Jimin’s anger had quelled somewhat in the days they’d been apart. It hadn’t and I found myself afraid that it never would.They stood there, an arm’s length separating them. Taehyung hadn’t budged, his feet planted on the floor in determination. Jimin tightened his jaw and stepped forward, seemingly making up his mind to elbow Taehyung out of the way. Before he could do that, however, Taehyung made a grab for his wrist. Jimin twisted out of Taehyung’s touch and sprang away, as though the contact burned him.“Don’t touch me,” Jimin seethed.“I—”“Which part of ’I do not want you in my life anymore’ do you not understand?”Taehyung’s eyes went impossibly wide, as if he was trying not to let his tears fall. “Don’t say that.”“You don’t have the right to tell me what do,” Jimin spat. His hands were clenched by his sides and they vibrated with the rage that he could no longer keep contained. His bag slipped off his shoulder and thudded to the floor. He had been pretending that he hadn’t cared, but now that self-possessed front was crumbling into dust. “You’re the one who ruined our friendship. I asked, didn’t I? I asked what was troubling you but you refused to let me in.”Taehyung wiped at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me.”Jimin snapped, like an elastic that had been stretched to its breaking point.“And you think you think I wouldn’t hate you more if you killed yourself?” Jimin bellowed. His voice reverberated in the room. “You promised, Taehyung! You promised that you’d talk to me! You promised that you wouldn’t chase yourself into a dead end! You promised that even when we stop being idols we’d still be friends for the rest of our life! We’re supposed to grow old together, Taehyung!”Tears rolled down Taehyung’s cheeks. “Sorry,” he said. I didn’t think he knew what else to say, but what he’d said, the pleading note in his voice, wasn’t enough to erase Jimin’s hurt.“How could you do this to me?” Jimin continued to shout. The veins in his neck popped. “Every night I close my eyes the only thing I see is you and all the blood in the bathroom. I drive myself insane wondering if you’d cut your wrist because I hadn’t been a good enough friend to you and I wondered if I should do the same to myself. Fuck you, Taehyung! You made me feel like a fool! You made me feel worthless!”Jimin collapsed onto the floor, curling into himself. His chest heaved and his shoulders shuddered, as if his anger still crashed through him but he no longer had the energy to yell.“You didn’t even leave a note,” Jimin whispered fiercely, head bowed. “Not even a note to explain why you wanted to die. You were going to leave us chasing for answers for the rest of our life. How could you be that cruel?”I shuddered. If Taehyung hadn’t made it that day, another hole would be ripped in the fabric of their world, one that I could not suture together. They might be able to pull together the remaining pieces of themselves to carry on, but they might also spend squander the rest of their days looking for a closure that would forever be out of their reach.“I didn’t plan to die that night.” The confession, when it came, surprised me. Taehyung had his eyes on the floor as he spoke softly, blinking through his tears. “We were so happy after finishing our MV shoot. I thought I was happy too until I thought about Namjoon Hyung and how he should have been there with us, how he would have been there with us if I hadn’t fucked up.” Taehyung inhaled and I heard the shaky tears in his throat. “It was bad to see all of you struggle without Namjoon Hyung, but I didn’t expect that the happy moments would be worse. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be happy with all of you. And God, it got so bad, Jimin. I went to the bathroom and the blade was just there and I—”Taehyung couldn’t finish.I imagined Taehyung in the bathroom that night, guilt and despair clawing rabidly in his chest. I imagined him crying through ragged breaths, apologising and pleading over and over in his head for the feelings to stop. I imagined the shaving blade glinting under the bathroom light, promising him an escape if he would just gouge it deep enough through the pulsing vein in his wrist.I stopped imagining. It hurt too much.Taehyung mopped hastily at his face with a hand. He tried to push a smile through even though Jimin wouldn’t see it with his head still bowed. “But now I want to get better. I want to be able to feel happy again without feeling guilty. I want to think of Namjoon Hyung without feeling like a murderer. I…I just want to be okay again.”Jimin clenched his fingers into fists. “You can do whatever you want,” he uttered bitterly. “It’s none of my business.”Taehyung bit his bottom lip but refused to cry. He lowered himself to the floor and knelt across from Jimin. “But I need you.”“Stop making it all about you,” Jimin hissed. “Spare a thought for me too, won’t you? I cannot go through the same thing twice.” He jabbed his fingers into hair and tugged at the roots. He cracked, and the tears he had been trying to keep at bay finally leaked into his voice. “I cannot let you back in my life. If I do and lose you again, I’d go insane.”Tears poured afresh down Taehyung’s cheeks. Taehyung had cried more over the past few days than in the years I had known him. He wasn’t too fond of crying, so it was particularly rending for us on the rare occasions we saw his tears.“I know you’re sick of hearing this but I’m sorry, Jimin,” he said. “I wish I could promise you I wouldn’t harm myself again but I don’t want to lie to you. My mind is still fucked up. I’ve been trying very hard for the past few days, looking on the bright side and all that stuff, but it’s difficult and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job. I’m going to sound like a selfish prick, but the truth is I cannot do this without you.”“You have the others,” Jimin uttered bitterly. “You don’t need me.”Taehyung shook his head. “They are not you. They don’t understand me like you do. I don’t have to tell you I’m troubled for you to know that something is bothering me. There will be days where I think I’m just one big nuisance. On those days I won’t be able to bring myself to reach out for help, and you’ll have to reach in,” he paused for breath, then smiled sadly, “I’m not making sense, am I?”There were a few moments of silence.“Who do you think understand you the best?” Jimin said, almost sourly, like he was grumbling than truly angry.Taehyung blinked.“And you’re right. You’re totally selfish,” Jimin said.“I’m—”“Stop saying you’re sorry and shut up and listen to me.” Jimin glared at Taehyung with bloodshot eyes. “You need me, I get it. But I will not try to save you. I won’t read your mood and I certainly will not reach in to help you. I had tried doing that in the past and we know how well that went. If you want me to be there for you, you need to step up to the plate. Anytime you feel like dying, anytime that thought even crosses your mind, you come straight and talk to me. I don’t care what time of the day or night it is. You wake me up, you call me.”Taehyung blinked several times, as if trying to wrap his head around Jimin’s words. “Does that mean we’re okay now?”“Do not think for a moment I’ve forgiven you. I’m still mad. But if you do what I say I might be one percent less mad at you.”Taehyung nodded hurriedly. “I promise.”Jimin scoffed. “I don’t know how much your promise is worth. But Kim Taehyung,” the steely light returned to Jimin’s eyes as they looked at Taehyung, “if you break this promise again, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”Taehyung did not say anything after that. He merely put out a hand into the space between them, pinky hesitantly sticking out. It was, however, many moments later before Jimin, begrudgingly, hooked that pinky with his own. Taehyung smiled, looking like a child with the messy streaks of tears on his face.Things were still far from perfect. Jimin was still angry and Taehyung was still shaky, but the pact they made was enough for now.
End of Taehyung's chapters
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On the day the teeth of winter blunted, the members of Bangtan packed a picnic basket of bulgogi sandwiches and cheese crackers, filled a big thermal flask with warm barley tea, and headed to the beach. Being slightly past ten in the morning, they were the only ones there. It was a windless day, the sky placid and the tides calm. They spread out a mat and chatted as they munched on the food. When their stomaches were filled, they dispersed to pursue whatever activities called to them. Yoongi propped a rolled-up tea towel under his neck and took a nap. Taehyung and Jungkook hovered at the shoreline, taking turns to capture each other against the vast blue of the sea on Jungkook’s camera. Jin, Hoseok and Jimin played a lazy game of cards. If I were there in the sense I wanted, I’d probably be nestled in a hammock strung between two trees, reading a book. But as things were right now, I could only settle for the second best and watch them.“Taehyung looks better these days,” Hoseok remarked as he played a spade of two. He had been observing Taehyung through the periphery of his vision, like everyone else did these days. I could understand their need to make sure that Taehyung was fine, and I thought they were doing a decent job at staying subtle without overwhelming Taehyung with their surveillance.“There are still days he doesn’t want to get out of bed,” Jimin said, rearranging his hand. His lips puckered. His cards didn’t look like they would carry him to victory.“He’s trying his best,” Jin said. He drew a card from the deck in the middle. “I know you’re still a little angry with him, but you’re willing to be there for him and that helps him a lot,” he told Jimin.Jimin frowned. “You shouldn’t give me so much credit,” he said. Hoseok and Jin looked at him questioningly, and after a moment of hesitation, Jimin gave in and told them what Taehyung had told him. “He said that Namjoon Hyung visited him.”I had been there when the conversation happened between Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin had suddenly grown suspicious and asked Taehyung why he was enthusiastic about getting better all of a sudden when just not long ago, he desired nothing more to end his life. Before that, no one had raised that question; maybe it slipped their minds, maybe they wondered the same thing too but were afraid of jinxing things by bringing it up. Taehyung was reluctant to answer at first, but he yielded eventually. I rolled my eyes. Of course he would prioritise his soulmate before a promise he made to me.“Do you believe him?” Hoseok asked.A distance away from them, Taehyung yelled something at Jungkook. His garbled words became breathless chuckles that carried to Jimin and became a faint smile on his face.“I believe in anything that makes him feel better,” Jimin decided.“Me too,” Jin agreed.Hoseok shrugged, unbothered. I didn’t know if he believed it or not. He had always been the most practical and realistic out of the seven of us.Frankly, Jimin could have told them that Taehyung’d shown him the photo he had snapped of my doodle on his bandages before they were changed. Maybe he remembered Taehyung’s discomfiture of breaking the promise to me and didn’t want to subject him to that experience again, were the others to ask him to show them the photo too.They continued the card game, proceeding to a second round after Jin won the first, and then a third after Jin won again. The rounds were dull, the hands dealt neither excitingly good nor woefully bad, but I watched them all the same.Somewhere toward the end of the third round (Jin was winning again), I felt a presence next to me, and I felt as though heavy pebbles were plunked into the bottom of my stomach. I didn’t need to turn my head to know who it was.“Brilliant day, isn’t it?” The Facilitator said conversationally.“Are you here for me?” I asked, appreciating the fact that he was allowing me the chance to voice the question. Many months ago, in a crematorium hall, I had asked a similar question.In the sunlight, his suit appeared a lighter shade of blue. The same golden chain of his pocket watch glinted the colours of the entire spectrum, in an overstated way that I knew wasn’t natural.“It’s time to go,” he said. His voice managed to be wistful and encouraging at the same time.Even though I already knew what his answer would be, it still did a number on me. I’d known that this moment was coming. I’d known that the extra time I’d had between my last wish and now was generosity on his end but it wouldn’t last forever. So I had convinced myself when the time came for me to finally go, I would be ready and I would do so with grace. But it turned out that one could not never be all ready for farewells.“I wish I could at least say goodbye to them.” I was thankful that my voice didn’t tremble. “It feels irresponsible to leave just like this.”“You already did what you could for them, and you did a great job.”Did I?We were quiet for a while after that. We watched as Taehyung and Jungkook ran back to the picnic mat, kicking up sand in their wake. Hoseok asked if the rest if they wanted to play a game of UNO and they agreed. They woke up a rather grumpy Yoongi and forced him to join. The six of them sat in a circle. Taehyung asked many questions as Hoseok distributed the cards, still adorably confused over the rules even after all this time.“Are they going to be okay without me?” I asked, my voice barely louder than a whisper in my knotted throat.The Facilitator gave me an odd half-smile. “I think you already know the answer.”I looked at each of my members in turn.Jin, our eldest. He had become more certain of his role in the group, even though sometimes I could still see the doubt in his eyes. You’re the best hyung anyone could ask for. Even though I couldn’t tell him that, I was sure that the others would do so on my behalf and someday, he’d be able to believe that fully.Yoongi, who was still trying to compensate for his anger back then. He had tried to be more present for the others, less likely to slip away into his studio, more likely to shower the members with affection. I wondered if he knew how far he had come and how much the others appreciated him for that. But I also hoped he knew that it was okay for him to want to take a break and be alone sometimes.Hoseok, who still slipped into the bad habit of chasing after impossible standards. But he would catch himself whenever that happened, draw in deep breaths, talk to others or take a walk in the park to clear his head before returning to whatever he was working on. He was making progress and I was glad for that.Jungkook, our youngest. There were nights he could not sleep. He would get up from his bed, quietly going to each of the rooms and checking that all his hyungs were all right. But when the mornings came, he would smile that smile that showed his bunny teeth, and that was all I needed to know that he would be all right, because those smiles touched his eyes and lit him up in the most genuine way possible.Jimin, who I knew was still a little angry, as Jin had pointed out. Fear and distrust crept into his eyes every now and then when he looked at Taehyung, as if he was still afraid that Taehyung would choose to hurt himself when he wasn’t watching. But between those moments of fear and distrust, there was love and faith too. Give it some time, I believe, and the love and faith would wrestle away the fear and distrust, because the Jimin I knew would not have it any other way.And then there was Taehyung, who I worried about the most. There were nights he woke up crying and days where his eyes were hollow pools of black. But he kept his promise to Jimin. Whenever he felt terrible, no matter the time of the day, he would pick up his phone and call Jimin. I was so proud of him. He was trying his best even on the days the odds seemed insurmountable. I had no doubt that someday all the light would find him again. I only hoped that that day would come sooner.There were many things I hoped for them, but The Facilitator was right. My role here was done. There was nothing more I could do. I ought to be terrified at that, but I wasn’t. Because even though I could not be there for them anymore, they could be there for each other. And they would do that, I knew. The road ahead of them would not be smooth. They would hobble, they would trip, they would fall, but they would also hold each other up when they needed to.They are Bangtan.They would survive.They would thrive.Jin. Yoongi. Hoseok. Jimin. Taehyung. Jungkook. I love all of them so much that I could believe in them.I turned to The Facilitator. I had never felt surer. My heart was light. I could even smile.“Let’s go.”
The End.
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The idea for this story came to me two years ago, though I didn’t gather enough courage to start it until many months later, when I realised that the idea would continue to gnaw at the back of my head if I didn’t do something about it. So in October 2018, I created a new Scrivener file and started writing Jin’s chapters.I quickly realised how ambitious I was being by choosing to write from Namjoon’s perspective. I have written rather many fanfictions for another fandom before, so the whole writing thing is not new to me. What was new was writing from a perspective of someone who had died and had no way of interacting with other characters in the story. This also meant that I could not tap upon the internal dialogues of other characters. I could only rely on spoken dialogues and actions to show what the rest of the characters are feeling or thinking. It was difficult because I was bad at writing dialogues, but I forced myself to learn and to experiment. I read books on crafting dialogue, I studied the writings of the authors I love, and along the journey, I also finally understood what it meant to listen to the characters. When writing this story, I also watched a lot of Bangtan videos (both older and newer), and from the things they said and the way they interacted with each other, I tried to piece together their real personalities behind the camera. Though I still took creative liberty, it was always my intention to write Bangtan as complex humans who are as vulnerable as they are strong. I wanted them to be kind but also selfish, to be humble but also prideful, to be brave but also cowardly in face of their fears, because in reality humans are rarely one or the other, but are instead vessels where all the good and bad qualities meld together. Recognising that was the only way for me to write a story that is as close to reality as possible. In other words, I worked really hard for this story.This story is not perfect. There are some parts I wish were different. However, despite the imperfections, I am also proud of finishing this story. I had learned so much from writing this, not only about writing techniques but also the more important things when it comes to grief and moving on. The character exploration I undertook made me a more sympathetic, less judgemental person. It also made me understand that the people around me are trying their best on their own journeys.Now, on to acknowledgements.To be honest, whether or not you commented or gave me Kudos, I would have finished this story, because it is something that I needed to do to prove to myself that I have the grit and patience to finish a novel-length story. It has always been my dream to become a published writer, so finishing this gave me confidence in myself.But before you think that I am arrogant, let me say that your comments and kudos made this journey a lot more enjoyable. For those who left kudos, thank you. For those who left comments after the last chapter, I appreciate them so much you have no idea. But for those who never failed to leave comments every now and then along the way, you people are the real MVPs. <3 As much as I had promised myself that I’d finish this story, doubts sometimes still seized me and refused to let go. I wasn’t lying when I said that I read your comments again and again every time I thought I sucked so bad that I shouldn’t even try writing at all. Your kind comments gave me more confidence than I could ever give myself. Thank you so much.Thank you too, for spending time on this story. Every one of you readers, whether silent or not, has been so kind to this story. Thank you for being so patient with my writing pace. Despite my tendency to disappear for a good month, I did not receive single rude comment. Your patience gave me a lot of breathing space I needed to get rid of my anxiety and simply write. Also, thank you for being brave enough to click on this story even though its summary already spells angst and heartbreak. I could only hope that this story had been worth your time and pain, and that in reading it, you found a piece to keep for yourself and revisit it whenever you need strength.Some of you have asked me if I would ever write another Bangtan story again. Frankly, I don’t know. There are some ideas floating around in my head, but it always took time for them to coalesce enough for me to take action. We’ll see. If you’re interested in my potential future works, you can user-subscribe to me. ^^This story has ended, but the comment box will always remain open. If there’s anything you would like to say to me, feel free. Or if there’s anything you would like to ask me (e.g., about the story, about my writing process, about any other things), feel free too. ^^,Lastly I just want to say that most of the time, writers can only write in blind faith and hope that their stories find their readers. And I am incredibly grateful that my story found you. :)) chestnut_ghost23.02.2020