Chapter Text
1. APRIL 2012
A careful whisper sang in the dead of the night.
“Hyung?”
It was met with dreamy silence, and calm breathings.
But what’s Taehyung if not persistent?
“Jin-hyung?”
…
“Are you up?”
…
…
“Tae? Aren’t you sleeping?”
“Some hyungs went back to the studio. The noise woke me up.”
Seokjin’s eyes blinked open, but only managed half the way. Arching his neck against the pillow, he tipped his head backward to read the digital clock at the end of Jungkook’s bed.
3:43 AM.
That meant they had about 5 hours of sleep, which was far more than usual. Thanks to Yoongi and Hoseok’s joint birthday party, they were able to wind down, have an easier day than most.
“Were you having a bad dream?” Taehyung asked again.
Early April air felt burnt, sizzling on the skin, and the fact that nearly 10 boys were sleeping in one room didn’t help with the heat, or the smell, despite their odorless nature, and everyone using Seokjin’s most pleasant body wash. Seokjin could do nothing but nod.
To his back the thin tank top was clinging uncomfortably, and to his front, Taehyung too was sticking. Lying on one side to accommodate the small space, Taehyung had his head on Seokjin’s right shoulder, arm and leg hugging the entirety of Seokjin.
“You sleep there now?” The elder asked, brushing off their often-seen intimacy, head jerking towards the bottom bunk next to his, where Taehyung’s favorite stuffed animal had resided, as well as a ball of tangled earphones.
“Yeah. Chanwoo-hyung’s gone for a month. I think it’s time to move on.” Taehyung said, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, getting used to someone’s absence.
Although to be fair, the dorm had housed too many trainees in and out. Seokjin couldn’t say he remembered every one of them.
But Chanwoo was different. He was one of the “founding members,” joining as soon as Hoseok did. Seokjin remembered arriving at the dorm, all excited to begin a new, unexpected chapter of his life, only to witness Chanwoo and Namjoon fighting over bed arrangement, Jungkook putting on headphones to do homework in peace, and Hoseok apologetically welcoming him in while scolding the rest.
Chanwoo was the one who took Seokjin out for a drink whenever the monthly evaluation was too harsh, when self-doubt blossomed in his head. Chanwoo told him about the politics of show business, helped him balance idol training and college assignments, and all in all, let Seokjin be the spoiled younger brother that he was.
But after two years of intense preparation and nothingness, Chanwoo decided that he deserved better. Seokjin was left as the only mathyung.
The boys didn’t dare using his bed. Even Namjoon, who fought tirelessly for months, just stared at the empty space in the morning while putting on an outfit, then left with a sigh. It felt like a make-believe, where they pretended life hadn’t caught up to Chanwoo, and that it wouldn’t swallow them whole any time soon.
“Will you forget me like that when I’m gone?” Seokjin asked. Something twisted in his chest. Something felt like fright, for what yet to come.
“What are you talking about? Are you leaving too?” The guilt overflowed as Taehyung’s voice came up in a pitch, threatening to break into a cry. Seokjin hastily held the arm that was clutching on his side as if he’s the only thread of hope Taehyung had left.
“No no no. I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere, Taehyung-ah.”
Outside was a dull pitch-black. Few street lights streamed in, just enough for Seokjin to see the glaze over Taehyung’s eyes.
“I’m not. I’m sorry. Don’t be like that. They will notice in the morning.”
Taehyung took a big breath as he unwrapped his body from Seokjin’s to lie down on his back. The elder scooted over, creating space between them, for comfort and some needed distance. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to inch closer again, their shoulders bumping, his leg stretching on Seokjin’s.
“Hyung…”
“I’m here.”
“Watching sunrise on the rooftop is on your bucket list, right?”
It was. He did it months ago, alone, when he didn’t even know Taehyung existed, but forgot to cross that one out.
Seoul’s skyline was exceptionally magnificent that day. He took rows of photos on his flip phone. Bright pink dust flew over the horizon, rising into a baby blue. The moon was high above the flood of sunlight, bigger and brighter than all city lights combined.
“Can’t believe I haven’t done that yet. Do you wanna go?”
“If you want to, hyung.”
Seokjin’s eyes were wide open now, stomach starting to catch up with his brain. He tapped on Taehyung’s thigh and the younger flew off the bed, tip-toeing to the living room. They walked past the other boys who were in deep slumber, put on some slippers then headed towards the stairs in silence. It’s cooler than expected. Seokjin regretted not changing out of his sweaty tank.
Taehyung was skipping ahead of him, taking two steps at a time while whistling a familiar song from their vocal lessons. He held the door to the rooftop open for Seokjin, and pushed a nearby flower pot with his feet to keep the rusty door from shutting and locking them out.
The elder settled on a make-shift bench made of unused water pipes (or overused, he couldn’t tell), looking around as if to search for some better seats, as if it’s his first time here.
Taehyung sat down next to him, and gazed over the modest view before their eyes. The first rays of sunshine sneaked in, painting sheer white over plain gray.
They could feel the city rousing from rest, as it never slept. If anything, years of practice proved that Seoul stayed up with them all the time. Seoul was their audience of one, their first supporter. Who else would listen to their voice, carry their tired feet around everyday and protect them even in their sleep?
“Have you talked to Chanwoo-hyung lately?”
Seokjin contemplated. “Not really. No. I got too busy. He must be swamped, too.”
“Weren’t you like– really close with him?”
“Closest in the dorm, I guess. Closer than him and Namjoon, although they met years before. Because we’re the same age.”
Seokjin heard a rooster crow in the far distance. Everything was surely stirring awake.
“I think he hates me. Chanwoo-hyung. I think he hates Namjoon-hyung, too.”
“What!?” exclaimed Seokjin, turning to his right to find the other boy already looking at him. A frown had grown on Taehyung’s face, forcing the elder to reach up and smooth it out. It didn’t look good on him.
“What made you think that?”
“You and everyone said he could help a lot, so there were times when everything was so stressful, I would ask him out for a walk. At first he would listen to me, comfort me and everything but… He began talking behind Namjoon-hyung’s back, then the condescension in his tone…
“They argued a lot before he left, do you remember? He picked fights because he didn’t like how hyung was leading the group, how much hyung had sacrificed his identity in this project.
“I think around that time he got really stressed out, but uh…”
Taehyung had been scratching his ears, a sign of nervousness, and fidgeting his feet on the ground. Despite the discomfort when hearing something bad about his once supposedly close friend, Seokjin encouraged the younger to continue.
“What is it, Taehyung?” He couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice. It made Taehyung even more conscious and chew on his lips.
“You can tell me. Don’t worry.” Seokjin placed a hand on his thigh and gave a light squeeze, the way Chanwoo used to make him open up. The thought stilled his hand in an instant.
“He beat me up sometimes.”
Seokjin felt the sun burning on his back, even though it was just starting to peek over the horizon. Above him the sky loomed heavier, darker, void of warmth.
Over the years they had several injuries, countless heated fights where they broke dinnerware, threw clothes around and stomped out, dislocating the door. But to impose physical violence—
“He asked me to do a cover a year ago, do you remember? He worked on his production skill, while I improved my vocal range?” Taehyung hurriedly continued, fearing his courage might run out.
Seokjin nodded. He had the song on his sleep playlist, wished he could sing in such a low register then raise into a high note like that.
“I couldn’t do it, that high note. My skill was inadequate. My voice isn’t done breaking and everything.
“So in the recording booth I told him that. He stormed in, asked me why I talked back to my senior. Before I opened my mouth he slapped me. Right here.” Taehyung pointed to his left cheek.
Seokjin looked upon the seventeen-year-old, restless yet helpless.
He froze like a statue, hand clutching on Taehyung’s thigh, unmoving. Behind him came the overwhelmingly bright sun. The source of all livings reflected itself on Taehyung’s skin, golden and blinding. Sound of early chirping made the younger look around in curiosity, in painful innocence.
“I’m gonna go next, I think.” He announced, eyes shining. It hurt Seokjin’s heart to imagine the dorm without him. No more watching new anime episodes after a long week. No more staying up and playing video games. No more Taehyung’s reflection next to his in the practice room mirror.
“Chanwoo-hyung was the eldest son of his family, right?” The younger one continued. “He left because he had to take care of them, and this whole thing,” he shook his head, “is taking too much time.”
Seokjin stared at the skinny, lanky teenager in front of him — the oldest sibling of three, the eldest son of his paternal side.
Somehow he had forgotten that, despite Taehyung’s incoherent speech, his struggle with basic grammar and his boyish, childish manner, Taehyung was expected of pride, honor and fortune by his family.
He was standing now, leaning over the railing to look down at the earlybirds, while Seokjin remained seated in bewilderment. Bafflement.
“I think he took it out on me because we’re kinda similar. Me, him and Namjoon-hyung, all eldest sons. Life wouldn’t catch up with me in like, 3 years. Namjoon-hyung has the damn CEO behind his back. If this project’s doomed I’m sure they have something else for him. But Chanwoo-hyung…”
“Shouldn’t you be mad at him? Talk about it with someone? Report to management? Hit him back at least?” Seokjin stood up and stomped next to the other, frustrated at Taehyung’s relaxed voice, at his useless self.
“I did.” He giggled, wrinkled eyes and boxy smile. “After a couple of times I got angry and spat at him, punched him, kicked his nuts a few times.
“I get it, Jin-hyung. He needed it. I needed it, letting off some steam. But he was getting vile, I think he knew it too. I think that also made him leave. He didn’t want to be remembered like that.
“Me neither. That’s why I’m telling you, in confidence. Maybe in a year or two, if I—we don’t make any progress, I gotta leave before I turn ugly in your eyes.” Taehyung scrunched his nose and flashed a childlike grin.
Seokjin wanted to cry.
Being the youngest meant Seokjin could whine to his older brother, cry to his mother, or at the very least, bond with his father over sports, as a means to forget the bruised feet, sore throat and decreasing confidence. They were all his to seek advice, to confide in and if necessary, to come back when he wanted to give up.
Yoongi was the youngest too. As well as Hoseok.
Jungkook was a whole different breed. The little kid got everyone wrapped around his finger — his family, the dance teacher, the stylists, the scouting team, the other trainees, especially Namjoon.
They all had someone. While all Taehyung had was a debut that depended much on other people, Seokjin included, and that didn’t guarantee success.
“Let’s do our best, Taehyung-ah.” He wrapped an arm over Taehyung’s shoulder, having nothing else to offer. The younger felt too thin, too soft under his touch. He slipped his arm around Seokjin’s waist, pulling in close.
“Let’s finally debut, Jin-hyung.”
Seokjin nodded, eyes casting at the burning horizon. He felt Taehyung’s hand on his, their bodies swaying together in a gentle, confident dance. Not knowing what else to say to comfort Taehyung, or himself, Seokjin went over their schedule for the day in his head.
“Is a new one coming today? Park Jimin something?”
“Yeah! He’s my age! I think you’re gonna meet him at practice. I have to wait until school finishes, though.” Taehyung frowned, lips downturned. He never liked waiting. All his patience was spent on their impending debut.
“Will he attend your school, too?”
“In a month or two, ‘til the paperwork’s done. Apparently he’s going to this fancy art school or something in Busan. Best of his class.”
“They really bring in the coolest kids, huh? Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jungkook, you, now him.” Seokjin clicked his tongue, stomach roaring to life.
“ You’re impressive. I liked you a bit too much when we met. Chanwoo-hyung, too.” Taehyung claimed, eyes fixed on the sunrise.
“Taehyung-ah…”
“Yes?”
“Promise, if someone acts like Chanwoo again, you will tell me. Please?”
“I’m not the one you should be asking that, hyung.”
Seokjin felt sweat dripping where their shoulders touched, on his back, on his inner thighs. Still, he trembled at Taehyung’s advice. Before he could make out what it was, the younger tapped on his arm, inquiring. Childlike innocence returned to his facial features.
“So what’s next on your bucket list?”
A smile tugged at Seokjin’s mouth. He took out the flip phone and opened his notes. The key clicked loudly but Taehyung didn’t pay a mind — he was staring at a tteokbokki stand at a faraway intersection.
“Bungee jumping?"