Chapter Text
Chapter 1:
Jin is live!
WWH 2.0 ( Bigger and Better) 💜
Jungkook’s phone buzzed once against the table.
A Weverse notification.
Jin is live!
WWH 2.0 ( Bigger and Better) 💜
His breath hitched before he could stop it.
For a second, he just stared at the screen, thumb hovering, frozen in that thin space between instinct and restraint. He hadn’t seen the eldest hyung in months. Not in real time. Not since everything… fractured.
Since Jin had chosen this.
Chosen a child from a one-night mistake over them, over the group, over the years they had bled and broken themselves to build something untouchable. Their long-awaited comeback after military service had been within reach, carefully planned, meticulously protected, and Jin had thrown himself into a storm instead.
Jungkook loved him. God, he did. Loved him enough that it hurt to even think straight.
But love didn’t quiet the bitterness clawing up his throat.
His thumb moved before he could stop it.
The livestream opened.
And there he was.
Seokjin.
Soft. Radiant in a way that made Jungkook’s chest tighten painfully. He was dressed in a familiar pink BTS wool jacket, one Jungkook had seen him wear countless times before, but now it sat differently on him, stretched gently over the curve of his body.
His hands rested over it, over that.
Not just a curve.
A full, unmistakable weight settled in his lap, round and heavy, rising beneath the soft fabric like something alive and undeniable. It wasn’t hidden, not minimized. Jin didn’t even try. He cradled it absently as he spoke, fingers splayed protectively, instinctively.
Maternal.
The word hit Jungkook like a slap.
His vision blurred.
Heat rushed to his face so fast it made him dizzy, his ears ringing as if the world had suddenly narrowed into a tunnel. His chest tightened, breath snagging halfway, refusing to come out properly.
No, no, no.
His finger jerked.
He exited the stream.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Jungkook sucked in air, sharp and uneven, like he’d been underwater too long. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, each beat louder than the last, chaotic and unforgiving.
He pressed a hand to his chest, as if he could steady it.
It didn’t help.
Images flashed anyway, Jin smiling softly at the camera, the way his hand never left his stomach, the way he looked… whole.
Complete.
Without them.
Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut.
His breathing broke, coming out in short, panicked bursts.
And somewhere beneath the anger, beneath the disbelief, beneath the sharp sting of betrayal.
There it was.
Something worse.
He missed him.
With trembling fingers, he logged into a burner account, no profile picture, a string of random numbers for a handle, and clicked back into the stream.
The screen flickered, the live-stream numbers climbing into the millions as Seokjin adjusted his position. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp with that familiar, deflective humor that always acted as his armor.
“Ah, I see the comments,” Jin said, letting out a windshield-wiper laugh that sounded breathier than usual. He leaned closer to the lens, poking his own cheek. “‘Our Worldwide Handsome Mandu,’ ‘Mama Jin is glowing.’ Yah, I know I look like a steamed dumpling right now. My face is so swollen I wake up and wonder who this stranger is in my mirror. But at least I’m a high-quality, premium-grade dumpling, right?”
He shifted, and the movement was heavy. Jungkook watched the way Jin had to use the armrests of the chair to lever his weight, his breath hitching slightly with the effort. The pink wool jacket was unbuttoned now, falling open to reveal a white maternity tee that clung stubbornly to the high, hard shelf of his stomach.
“Is it a boy or a girl? Look at the shape,” Jin read, tilting his camera down slightly. He traced the underside of the curve, tense, low, and perfectly round. “People say if it’s pointed like this, it’s a prince. But honestly? With how much he’s been practicing choreography on my ribs, I think he’s auditioning for Main Dancer. He’s got no mercy for his Appa.”
Jin leaned back slightly, exhaling as he adjusted again, one hand supporting himself at his side, the other resting over his stomach in a quiet, habitual motion. Protective. Grounded.
“I’ve been attending classes,” Jin continued casually, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “Lamaze.”
The word lingered.
Jungkook’s breath caught.
“Learning breathing,” Jin explained, demonstrating with a small inhale, shoulders lifting subtly before releasing. “Staying calm. It’s important.”
A pause.
Then, quieter
“I go alone.”
The chat slowed for a second.
Even Jungkook felt it.
Jin smiled, like he could feel the shift through the screen.
“It’s okay,” he added gently. “I’m used to doing things on my own.”
But his hand never left his stomach.
Jungkook swallowed hard.
Used to it.
That wasn’t something Jin should have been used to.
More comments rushed in. “you’re strong, we’re proud of you, you’re not alone, ARMY is with you.”
Jin read them, his expression softening.
“ARMY really is amazing,” he said quietly. “You all worry so much.”
His fingers moved slightly, slow and absent, tracing a small, soothing motion over the curve beneath his shirt.
Jungkook noticed everything.
The way Jin breathed deeper now.
The way he shifted his weight more carefully.
The way his movements were no longer quick or careless, but measured, like every action was negotiated with the life he carried.
And it made Jungkook’s chest ache.
Because Jin looked… at peace.
Not untouched by difficulty.
But steady.
Alive.
Whole in a way that didn’t ask for permission.
The comments turned sharper, more insistent “Where are the members? Do they hate the baby?”
Jin didn’t flinch. He looked directly into the camera, his expression radiating a warmth that Jungkook knew was a beautiful, protective lie.
“The members?” Jin smiled, and it was his ‘Hyung’ smile, the one he used when he was fixing their hair. “They’re obsessed. They’re constantly calling. Jungkook actually sent over so many baby clothes that I told him the kid would need ten closets. And the others… they’re always checking in. ‘Hyung, did you eat? Hyung, are you resting?’ It’s almost annoying, really.”
A soft knock sounded at the door. Jungkook’s heart leaped. He held his breath, half-hoping, half-dreading, that it would be one of the members.
The door pushed open, and Soobin stepped into the frame. He wasn’t in “idol mode”; he was wearing a simple oversized hoodie, looking comfortable and cozy.
“Hyung,” Soobin said softly, oblivious to the camera for a moment before he realized the red ‘Live’ light was on. He didn’t shy away. Instead, he walked right up to Jin’s chair.
“You’ve been on for an hour. You need to eat. Dinner is ready.”
Soobin reached down, his large hand naturally finding its place on the side of Jin’s stomach. He didn’t just touch it; he leaned down and hugged Jin from behind, his arms wrapping around his hyung’s shoulders while his hands rested protectively over the curve of the belly.
“Say hello to the viewers, Soobin-ah,” Jin teased, patting Soobin’s arm.
“Hello, everyone,” Soobin murmured into Jin’s shoulder, his eyes crinkling. “Please don’t keep him too long. The baby is hungry, and so is the Appa.” He looked down at the bump with a look of pure, uncomplicated affection.
“He’s been kicking a lot today, hasn’t he? I could feel it through the wall.”
“He’s a menace,” Jin laughed, leaning back into Soobin’s support. “Go on, I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Jungkook watched as Soobin gave the belly one last, affectionate squeeze before disappearing off-camera. The intimacy of it, the ease with which a junior from a different group was providing the comfort that they should have been giving, felt like a physical blow to Jungkook’s chest.
“This pregnant Appa has to go eat, Army-deul.” Jin said, his voice lighter now. “Our ‘little one’ is hungry.” He blew a final kiss. “Goodnight, ARMY.”
The screen went black.
The reflection of Jungkook’s own face appeared in the dark glass, tear-streaked, angry, and desperately lonely. He looked at his own hands, the ones Jin had lied about, and felt the crushing weight of the silence. Jin wasn’t alone, but he was alone without them.