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The throttle sent Yoongi back flat against the seat, straps digging into his carotid artery and he felt a lightheadedness sink in as their shuttle infiltrated the polluted atmosphere. Out of the overhead intercom blared the familiar countdown to landing, “Commencing, time to land in T minus–”
Yoongi hated this part the most, the part of transitioning between Earth and sky.
He barely registered Namjoon’s soothing voice to his left, but felt grateful nonetheless. The veteran medic did wonders for Yoongi in these tense moments, his low bass rumbling in Yoongi’s ears. “Breathe in, breathe out, you got it Yoongs. Just another trip through the stratosphere.”
Yoongi shut his eyes, tried to concentrate on Namjoon’s words and the back of his eyelids. You are Min Yoongi. You’ve done this countless times before. You will do it again.
“Five, four, three, two, one.”
Turbulence rattled the entire shuttle as the compressed air slowed them to a stop, releasing a hissing noise as sheets of metal hit the old Earth. The metallic groan expanded and Yoongi knew he could open his eyes now, that the worst was over.
“Welp, feels good to be back,” Namjoon said, and Hoseok grunted an affirmative, seated on the far right of the spacecraft.
Looking out through the bulletproof, shatterproof, compression-proof glass, Yoongi inhaled deeply through his nose. He already felt the difference in pressure even though they were still in the vehicle and breathing particled oxygen from the tank. It felt heavier, denser.
Shades of crushed eggshell brown and moldy green took over, a stark contrast to the empty, steel grey they had grown accustomed to up ahead.
They were back on Earth.
The whole town prepared for their arrival, setting up a clean and fully-stocked base with tents and facilities and clean water. Yoongi never felt so grateful than when he was interacting with the Earth Dwellers. Nothing but pure generosity.
“Damn! We got some legit blankets this time!” exclaimed Hoseok who was already running his fingers through the fleecy fabric set up on their cots. “I feel like a king.”
“They really do treat us well,” Namjoon agreed.
Yoongi could only nod, taking a moment to appreciate the anticipation of another hopefully successful medical mission. This was his fourth one, each trip separated by six months, and returning to Earth never got old. Seeing familiar faces, hugging old friends, offering his medical services to those in need – Yoongi swore he would continue to do this for as long as the Station let him.
“Alright men,” came a booming voice, their supervisor, Mr. Bang. He trotted in, already decked up in scrubs, wearing his antiseptic mask and a fanny pack around his waist. Funny how those ancient fashions still stuck around, Yoongi almost snorted. “There’s no time to lose men, plenty of people waiting for us at the tent already. Let’s head out.”
The three of them voiced their consent and began to gown up, too.
Operating out of the tent only allowed the medics to see a portion of what the communities were suffering from. After all, the Dwellers had to commute to even get to the tent, and many patients were left debilitated, stuck in their homes.
Back at the Station, hundreds of miles above where they stood now, Yoongi had pitched a short suggestion to Mr. Bang that maybe their team could do a few community outreaches this time around. That would ultimately broaden their reach and help more people.
After a lengthy discussion and going through and endless amount of red tape, the Station agreed. The consensus came with the stipulation that the medics should never travel alone, always wear their masks and return as soon as possible to the camp grounds in the case of any emergencies.
When the good news was revealed to the team, Yoongi was ecstatic. Of course, he simply coughed into his hand and tried to swallow down his glee. Hoseok had nudged him, a teasing look in his eyes, but Yoongi made sure to wait until he got to his suite before squealing into a pillow.
He had a feeling that this trip was going to be special.
The first day, Yoongi’s team committed to tackling the horrendous line at the medic tent. It seemed like the entire town had shown up, but Yoongi knew better. Countless mothers and fathers told him about their ailing children, and more than a few straggling kids bemoaned their terminally ill parents.
“Mr. Medic, I know you probably hear this a lot, but we really appreciate your help,” said a deathly-white, middle-aged woman as Yoongi wrapped up her weeping leg ulcers. They were deeply infected and the topical antibiotic Yoongi applied would only help a little bit unless she was able to get some oral medications. Hopefully their pharmacy would have the right pills in stock.
Yoongi remembered the day all antibiotics stopped being effective. Penicillin, the quinolones, macrolides, and countless other classes slowly became useless against the world's multiplying resistant bacterial strains. From the Station, where all harmful vectors were immediately neutralized upon arrival, Yoongi could only watch in horror as the death toll of Earth Dwellers skyrocketed. More than two thirds of the population literally faded away in the year that followed. Diseases had grown so rampant that all medical missions had to be halted for safety reasons.
Thankfully, the Station scrambled to put together a heavily funded team of researchers to start the slow road toward gaining up upper hand against bacteria, and began producing pharmaceutical agents that would work. In fact, they had just launched their newest combination selective antibiotic and antiviral two months ago. The prospects were getting brighter. Yoongi couldn’t wait to start utilizing the resources they had in stock this time.
The woman reached out to stop Yoongi’s skillful hands as he finished the ace bandage. Her skin felt so cold, Yoongi thought, so close to death. “Sir, please, listen to me.”
He gave her his full attention, looked into her eyes that had seen too much.
“We Earth Dwellers don’t have much to gain in life. It’s short here, full of hurt and disease and no bright future.”
Yoongi disliked this part, he knew he wouldn't want to hear it. He felt like a dick for being someone who couldn’t relate because of his fortunate life at the Station. But that was the way life worked – some people got to live high in the skies and most didn’t. There were constant rallies, political movements aimed to make things ethically equal for everyone, but there was simply not enough room at the Station yet. Yoongi knew it wasn’t an excuse, but what could he do?
“But seeing you young men here every six months, it brings our town a little sliver of hope for once. Thank you, so, so much.” Her thin lips, aged with time and toil and too much sun, quivered as she finished. Yoongi took her hands into his and held them tight, hoping to convey something in that touch. He needed to tell her how he felt.
“Ma'am I can’t offer you much more than this, but I really wish I could. I wish we could take you all up with us and cure all these diseases.” His eyes fell downcast, looking back at the bandages on her legs that would surely become useless in a few weeks. “But I can’t. This is the most I can do, and I’m sorry if this isn’t enough but I promise,” Yoongi brought his eyes back up to meet her gaze, “I promise to do everything I can so that someday, that can come true.”
The soft smile on her face at his words made Yoongi feel so broken, for her, for her family, for everyone stuck on Earth. There was so much he wanted for them, and each of those wants were completely unattainable.
The first night on Earth always felt odd, like walking out of his skin, Yoongi realized. Namjoon attributed it to the change in atmosphere, similar to the way their muscles felt stretched during their first few hours out of the shuttle.
“Wanking makes it better,” Namjoon said during dinner, and Hoseok nearly choked on his mashed potatoes. Yoongi just sighed. It was hard enough working with his two best friends who had been in love for years but lacked the balls to do more.
So he decided to speak up, “Hoseok, you should help him with that tonight.”
Suffice to say, Hoseok continued to choke for a solid thirty more seconds before sputtering quiet, bright red up to his ears. Namjoon’s eyes went impossibly wide and then he tried to quickly finish his dinner before skirting away, claiming he had some work to do.
Yoongi smirked at Hoseok. “Work, eh? Make sure his hand doesn’t fall off from all that work.”
Hoseok nearly fainted.
As he shuffled to get more comfortable in his cot, Yoongi mentally walked through his day, shuffling through the events in his head to make sure he had covered everything he could.
Out of the thousands of Dwellers who had showed up that morning, the team was able to get through at least two-thirds of them. They kept letting more and more people in even after official hours had finished, the black of evening cloaking everything around the tent.
That was the thing with these missions – there was never an end, never a moment when it seemed like they had done enough.
It was his last patient, a broad young man with a hacking cough that had been bothering him for three months without relief, who had made Yoongi feel the most uncomfortable he’d felt in a really long time.
“Alright sir, your lungs do sound congested–”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” the man interjected, face void of emotion.
Yoongi felt his feathers start to ruffle, but placated himself knowing that the Dwellers had every right to feel disgruntled. “Okay, I apologize sir. We’ll need to take a chest xray to make sure you don’t have certain diseases like pneumonia and tuberculosis, and once we do that, we can give you the proper medications and you’ll be right as new soon.”
The man scoffed, “Right. ‘Right as new,’ give me a break, man.”
Okay, wow, Yoongi thought. He knew people could be defensive, but really, did he do anything to personally offend the guy?
“Sir, please, I’m trying to help you,” he tried, but the man was having none of that.
“Help me?! Help me.” The man’s wide eyes pierced through Yoongi, stabbing deep into dark places he didn’t even want to think about. “You all come down here, all high and mighty, thinking you’re doing something wonderful, thinking you’re all saviors, then fly back up to your perfect Station, feeling all good and shit. Fucking assholes is what you all are. Now where do I get my fucking xray?”
Yoongi had, during the rant, began to step backward, ready to call for reinforcements if the man decided to get violent. Thankfully, once everything was said, he looked much less threatening, flushed face softening into sad, young features. Yoongi briefly thought he looked familiar, the curved nose and plush lips, thick eyebrows and almond eyes, a figure from a dream.
Wordlessly, Yoongi gestured to the adjacent tent, “Namjoon will assist you with the xray.”
The man nodded and made his way over, but stopped right before disappearing between the tents. He turned around, and cleared his throat. “I, um–” before getting interrupted by another hacking cough fit. “Never mind. Thank you.”
Yoongi paused. Sighing, he nodded, with a wave. “Not a problem, sir. Have a nice day.”
Despite the anger flaring up in his chest, when Yoongi watched the way the man carried his weight, shoulders slumped and head bobbing, somehow, he felt sorry for him.
Yoongi wrestled with himself, trying to fall asleep. He eventually did, much later than he should have, thinking of furrowed eyebrows and a hacking cough.
The next few days were just as busy, if not more, now that the team was able to go out into the town for some home visits. The mobile medic truck followed them with supplies and medications, but still, every night as Yoongi fell into his cot, he was chased with the image of that young man from his first day. Yoongi found himself hoping that the man had gotten proper care after leaving his treatment room, hoped his cough had subsided by now.
In his intense and growing curiosity, Yoongi dug up his medical record. It wasn’t illegal, he had the right to see his information, being part of his healthcare, but his fingers still shook as he opened the manila folder: Kim Seokjin, age 25, preschool teacher, single, no significant medical history.
Something about the way Seokjin had hung his head after spewing those words made Yoongi feel more than he had for most of his patients, compared to the older woman with the leg sores.
Huffing aloud, Yoongi pulled the blankets over his head and tried to drown out the soft smooching sounds coming from Namjoon’s cot, where two figures huddled in the small space. Apparently, his wanking joke had helped some, but Yoongi didn’t really feel like a winner that moment.
“I’m trying to sleep,” he groaned, and nearly chuckled at the loud thump and squeak that followed. “Just be quiet, I don’t care what you do.”
“Sorry hyung,” said Hoseok, a smile hidden in his words, “We didn’t know you were awake...”
“Yeah, well I definitely am. Now keep the sounds to a minimum? And don’t stay up too long, we have tons of shit to do tomorrow.”
Soft agreements filled the air before Yoongi stuffed in his earplugs and rolled onto his face, trying to drown out the picture of Seokjin’s empty eyes.
Day seven and Yoongi felt like his bones were about to disintegrate – too, too tired. Yet, there was still so much left to do, so many people still in need.
He slumped back into his chair and looked at the white computer screen in front of him. He had to figure out some of the logistics for their remaining two weeks on Earth, how they would allocate their supplies, which towns they’d try to tackle, the list was endless and their means was limited by a far amount.
He resisted pulling at his hair, it had noticeably thinned out over the past two years that he had spent being a part of the mission team and Jimin and Taehyung loved to tease him about it back at the Station. He was the resident grandfather and they never failed to remind him.
“Well this grandpa’s still got some life in his bones,” he muttered to himself, sucking in some resolve and straightening himself in the chair, ready to tackle his to-do list.
He was just about to open a new document when Namjoon popped his head in the tent, frazzled brown hair sticking haphazardly. “Hyung? There’s someone here to see you,” Namjoon scratched at his nape, a bit unsure, “He says you would know him.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. “Uh, who is it?”
“He said to tell you it’s the ‘rude coughing guy.’ Said you’d know right away.” At the sight of Yoongi’s widening eyes, Namjoon added, “Um, do you want me to make him go away?”
What could have brought Seokjin back to visit him? Surely he didn’t have more to complain about, more empty accusations and bitter grievances?
More curious than anything, he replied, “It’s okay, Joonie. Let him in, thanks.”
With a skeptical frown, Namjoon disappeared behind the flap and Yoongi braced himself for some sort of conflict. He watched the flap reopen and the man, Seokjin, dipped in with a bow. Well, that’s different.
“Hello, Mr. Min,” Seokjin started, paying no heed to the gaping mouth on Yoongi’s face. “I know you're a busy guy and I'm probably intruding, but I wanted to come back to... officially apologize.”
Yoongi couldn’t catch a glance at his face, which was directed at the floor in earnest. Seokjin gave off an obvious impression that he did not want to be there at the moment.
Probably best to let him off the hook easy.
“It’s not a problem,” Yoongi said, closing his laptop. “No harm taken, I understand what you meant but I want you to know that this isn’t some game for me.”
At the shift in tone, Seokjin glanced up to meet Yoongi’s serious stare, a bit surprised.
Yoongi continued, “I can see what you might think, since we come down and stay for a few weeks, then return home. It must be really hard to digest and I hope you can understand that I have no control over things like that. But what I can do is come back as soon as possible and deliver the best healthcare for everyone while I’m here. And I do that, every – single – time.” He folded his hands in his lap, a bit winded from the speech, but happy to get it off his chest.
It was the truth, Yoongi put his blood, sweat and tears into every day he spent with the Dwellers and didn’t shortchange anyone. He put everything into his efforts.
Seokjin wore a look of complete surprise before his face resumed its blank stare, but this time, there was no malice underneath it all. Just a bit of wonder.
“Um,” Seokjin stuttered and Yoongi chuckled to himself at the sight, “I–I didn’t mean any of that, really. I just...” Seokjin trailed off, fidgeting with his fingers.
Yoongi tried to be patient. He’d give Seokjin a few more minutes, then he had to return back to his work.
“I just... had a really tough week. My mother... she passed away.”
It was then Yoongi’s turn to be surprised. Being back on Earth meant a ton of surprises in store for him. This guy was just one thing after another.
“She passed away from an infected digestive system and she could’ve gotten better if she had proper medical treatment. I think that’s why I was so upset... at the world, mainly... Mad at why things are so unfair and how there’s nothing I can do about it. We’re all just stuck in his wasteland with no escape. And then it just came out directed on you. That wasn’t right. I’m sorry, again.” The honesty on Seokjin’s face was so full of distress and helpless longing now, Yoongi couldn’t bear to look at him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” he heard himself saying, and registered the way Seokjin’s head snapped up at the use of his name. “Oh, I see every patient’s chart,” he clarified.
Seokjin’s eyes were glassy, a rich depth that had been full of too much hurt and heartbreak. “And you remembered my name?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi whispered, “I’m sorry about your mother. That’s... yeah, that’s fucked up.” He ignored Seokjin’s tentative shock and continued, “Shit like that will continue to happen unless something makes a big difference. I’ve said this to someone recently and I’ll tell you now. I’m doing everything I can up there in my power as a respected medical personnel to try to change things.”
“Change,” Seokjin repeated, saying it carefully.
“Yeah, change. And it’s taking eons, but I promise you, it will happen. That’s all I can offer in honor of your mother and all the rest of those who have suffered until now.”
For the first time, Seokjin smiled, and Yoongi tried not to lose focus in the beauty that shone in their moment.
The next day started off in a frenzied rush, Yoongi was yanked out of his soft, comfortable cot a little after midnight by Mr. Bang’s flushed face and yelling that all blurred together into one giant mess of flaming red flickers, sirens and rotting grass.
In the darkness of the Earth’s deep night, their team’s living compound had lit up into an inferno, sizzling until there was nothing left but charcoaled fabric and dust.
Namjoon’s hacking coughs kept most of them on their toes. Thankfully no one had gotten hurt, but the danger of smoke inhalation still posed problematic to his health.
Luckily, Mr. Bang had been awake to smell the first sparks and immediately snapped into action mode quickly. Before their quarters had burned down, they managed to save some of the medicines and their laptops, but not much else.
“We really need to get back to the Station,” Hoseok argued, veins bulging out on his narrow nape.
“Hoseok,” Mr. Bang’s voice was firm, “We do not have the means to go back yet, we have to wait until we get clearance to return. We will treat Namjoon here while we can and wait. That’s that.”
The finality collected around them and Yoongi tried his best to stay calm as Hoseok crumbled into Namjoon’s arms, the latter whispering murmurs into his matted hair.
“As for the rest of the day, you guys should take some time to rest. We’ll regroup tomorrow and get back on track,” dismissed the supervisor.
Yoongi trudged back to their van, which now held the entirety of their possessions. More than a few hospitable Dwellers had opened up their homes, offering places to stay during their last week on Earth and Yoongi never felt so thankful for human kindness as he did in that moment. Every one of his previous trips to Earth had been centered around what he could give to the Dwellers, but now it was the opposite.
Looking down, he was covered in soot, disgusting. He made a face and searched through the remnants of what they had managed to salvage from the fire and realized that hey, they didn’t have any extra clothing. Great.
“I’m sorry to hear what happened,” came a tentative voice behind him. Yoongi came face to face with the one person he thought would never approach him again.
“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi replied, bowing politely in greeting, “Thank you for your concern. We’ll make it though, nothing but a minor setback.”
“Minor setback?” Seokjin gestured to the empty space that remained where their station once stood. “Your strength is admirable, Dr–?”
“No, not doctor,” Yoongi replied, “I'm a medic. Just Yoongi is fine.”
“Yoongi,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “well, I don’t want to keep you, but I wanted to ask if you’ve got a place to stay?”
They had. Mr. Bang gave the choice to the team to decide where they felt most comfortable, even in the truck if they so desired. Yoongi hadn’t thought that far ahead, still stuck in the whirlwind of last night’s panic.
“Yes, we’ve gotten numerous considerate offers, Mr. Kim. I personally haven’t decided yet, kind of still... processing things.”
Seokjin smiled, tight-lipped, “Well, Yoongi, my sister and I would be honored if you would stay with us.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up into his bangs. Chuckling more to himself, he replied, “Well, I didn’t see that one coming.”
Seemed like his reply effectively broke the ice because Seokjin looked happily embarrassed, tinged cheeks and pouty smile. Yoongi sure didn’t expect the lighthearted punch that the older man threw his way after the snarky reply.
“Yah, Yoongi. You may be an important person here but you’re still younger than me.” Seokjin’s eyes twinkled, reminded Yoongi of the stars he lived amongst miles up ahead.
He ducked his head, still sensible enough to be respectful. “Of course, hyung.” Seokjin looked pleased at the answer, so he continued. “Are you sure? I mean, the last thing I want to do is inconvenience your family, especially after your mother...”
But there was no ill effect at the mention of recent loss, and Seokjin simply shook his head in return. “You wouldn’t be inconveniencing us, I promise. And there’s my sister who wants to meet you, you’re kind of her hero.”
As if the day couldn’t get even more surprising.
“Her hero?” Yoongi repeated.
“My little sister. Eunjin. She’s been begging me to ask you to come over once she heard that I visited you that night.” Seokjin looked entirely nonplussed, awkwardly shuffling from side to side. “If anything, please come for her.”
Yoongi cracked a small smile. “That’s actually one of the best things I’ve heard all day, hyung. Well, okay, I’ll do it. I have to thank your sister for inviting me.”
Seokjin’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh my god, that’s so great. She’s gonna be so happy, I just–” and Yoongi felt the uprising surge of nervousness at the way Seokjin started rambling. The older man started walking back in the direction where he came from before coming to a halt. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Yoongi, you coming or what?”
Yoongi shook his head to himself and replied, “Coming, hyung!” hustling to catch up with the man who was still muttering to himself, a large grin on his face.
“And then after a few months, I found out that she had given birth successfully to a healthy boy,” Yoongi finished, “I never forgot the feeling I had.”
“Wow,” came a tiny voice from the girl who had been perched on Yoongi’s lap the entire dinner time, “you’re a magic man, Mr. Min.”
If it were possible, Yoongi melted even more for the precious seven year old, Eunjin, who had snagged his heart the moment Seokjin introduced them at his house. She had her fingers wrapped around his wrist, insisting that she eat on his lap, while Seokjin profusely mouthed apologizes to Yoongi across the table.
It’s fine, he offered. Who was he to refuse the adorable girl?
Yoongi didn’t believe in coincidences, so when he immediately recognized the elemental charm around Eunjin’s neck, he knew that coming to Seokjin’s place was the right decision.
“Eunjin-ah,” he whispered, immediately attracting the girl’s attention.
“Yes, Mr. Min?” Her curious, sparkling eyes looked so similar to Seokjin’s that Yoongi had to visibly swallow in order to speak further.
He slowly brought his fingers to thumb at the charm hanging from the leather cord. “Do you remember where you got this?”
Seokjin was gazing at them intently. Yoongi wondered if he knew.
“Yep,” Eunjin replied, puffing out her cheeks with the ‘p’, “you gave it to me two years ago, Mr. Min!”
Yoongi smiled softly, “I sure did. But I didn’t remember until I saw you again tonight. I’m glad to see you’re still keeping it safe.”
Eunjin lifted her head in pride, a wonderful gesture that momentarily made Yoongi forget of all the disease, trial and strife outside of the home’s shabby four walls. The fact that there was still pure innocence in the world, in the smile on Eunjin’s face, it only made Yoongi more determined to fight for Earth.
“Of course! I’ve only taken it off to shower or if my mum made me. I promised you.”
Yoongi looked up to meet Seokjin’s eyes, a sense of purpose laced with soft edges, What do you mean to me?
“Do you remember?” Seokjin’s melodious voice drifted along the plain, white walls.
They had all settled for the night, Seokjin insisting that Yoongi take his bed. Namjoon and Hoseok were housed at a widow’s house five minutes away and the rest of their team were comfortably placed around the town, as well. For the first night since they had touched down, Yoongi felt the sweetest semblance of peace. It was foreign, kind of like being lost in space, but oh so welcome.
“Remember?” he repeated.
Seokjin didn’t reply right away. Which was fine, Yoongi supposed. The silence that followed only reminded him that he was still ultimately a stranger in this house.
“Ah, so you don’t.”
“You gonna explain what you mean? Or is this your way of trying to get me curious?” Yoongi jabbed back, a bit surprised at himself. Jokes only came on the rare occasion nowadays.
Again, Seokjin’s reply took awhile. “I think,” he started, and Yoongi rolled onto his side to look at the man sprawled on the ground, wrapped in a loose, too-thin blanket. His eyes were closed, soft breaths puffing out and cheeks that radiated the neon moonlight. Curled into himself, Seokjin somehow struck Yoongi as the best portrayal of both simplicity and apathy – someone who had seen too much but still retained his youth. Something beautiful but damaged.
“I think I won’t tell you just yet.”
The answer wasn’t what Yoongi wanted to hear but the “yet” felt promising.
“But you will?” Yoongi inquired, watching the space between them.
Seokjin’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, but he made no reply, instead, he burrowed his face into the pillow. Yoongi took it as the end to their conversation and rolled onto his back.
The room was, as he noticed right away, simple. No family pictures, no art or decor. Maybe it was too painful, he thought, if keeping photos of better times would only be like stabbing reminders.
“I will,” came a hush. If Yoongi wasn’t paying attention or if the room wasn’t as utterly silent as it was, he would’ve missed it.
“Good,” he whispered back.
Since it was still mid-summer break and the schools were out of session, Seokjin ended up joining Yoongi and the team for their remaining outreaches. His meticulous and precise hand-eye coordination came in mighty, handy help. Assisting with tourniquets, blood draws, counting pills and many important duties, Seokjin excelled in them all and Yoongi wasn’t the slightest bit surprised.
“I wanted to be a medic when I was younger,” Seokjin said during their makeshift lunch break on Tuesday. They had three days remaining in their expedition.
Yoongi turned to him, midway between chewing a bite of his tonkatsu sandwich. “Really? What happened?”
Seokjin made a face, a little pained, and Yoongi inwardly cursed his lack of social ability to read situations. “I mean...” he tried, before Seokjin rolled his eyes.
“You really have to get better at that, you know Yoongi-ah.”
Yoongi hung his head, “I know, hyung. I tend to um, be too blunt.”
A beautiful laugh, “Well, we can’t forget our first meeting. I also have things to learn, too.”
Yoongi had become familiar with the stirring in his gut that appeared more and more frequently as he spent more time with the older Dweller. During the day, they wrapped wounds and gave out medications. After the rush, they returned to Seokjin’s house to eat at a worn-out dinner table. As blunt as he was, Yoongi didn’t want to address what could – would – make their friendship infinitely more complicated.
So he initially ignored it, the rumble that was completely unrelated to feeling hungry or nervous. By now, the sensation was so commonplace, Yoongi spared himself the effort of pushing it away, now letting it envelope him from all corners.
Seokjin continued, “Well, the separation of Earth and Station was one thing that happened, medics could only be trained up there, which you know.” Yoongi nodded. “And so, when my family was chosen to stay behind, that was that. I tried to pick up skills here, ragtag things, but well, without the right equipment and only so many dead ends, I gave up on that dream.”
Gave up.
“I’m okay though,” Seokjin said, going back to his lunch, toying with the chopsticks, “I got to kind of live out my childhood dream through you guys.” He flashed Yoongi a content smile that somehow didn’t make Yoongi feel any better.
“I honestly had no idea...” Yoongi wished he could do more, give him more. But all he had didn’t even belong to him, it belonged to the Station, their meager remains. He was the one sleeping at Seokjin’s place, eating his food, taking his precious resources. Suddenly, everything felt so opposite.
“Trust me, this means the world.”
When Eunjin laughed, it brought back odd, blurry memories. Incomplete memories of clasped fingers and digging into the Earth.
She was giggling as Yoongi tickled her, infectious melodies filling the living room with more comfort than all the amenities that the Station could provide its privileged inhabitants.
“Stop, stop!” she gasped, little fingers wiggling in the air, unable to do much else. Yoongi relented, smiling fondly at the little girl who had become practically like his own sister within the past week.
After Eunjin calmed down, rolling back and forth on the bare ground in glee, she stopped and looked hesitantly up at Yoongi. “Mr. Min?”
It was then Yoongi’s turn to let out a small giggle. Even after getting to know each other, the little girl still insisted on calling him Mr. Min. It was adorable, and Yoongi surprised himself at the way he willingly looked forward to seeing her every day. She was a piece of Seokjin, he found himself recognizing, a piece of something real.
“Yes, Eunjin-ah?”
She hummed, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth like she had something to say. And based on her wiggling, wringing her fingers, Yoongi suspected it as such.
“Do you have something to tell me?” he tried again.
Her eyes widened, “Yes! I do! How did you know?!” The awe on Eunjin’s voice made Yoongi think of Christmas mornings, birthday surprises and discovering something new.
“Just a lucky guess,” he grinned. “Now, Eunjin-ah, be a good girl and tell Mr. Min what your secret is.” He leaned down with a mischievous smile, raising his fingers for attack.
At the sight of impending tickles, Eunjin gasped and exclaimed in a rushing breath, “Seokjin oppa used to like Mr. Min when you were kids and he never thought he’d see you again after you left but now you’re here and now you have to stay with us and be a part of our family Mr. Min, please?”
Yoongi dropped his hands.
“Eunjin-ah, go to your room.” But the words didn’t come from Yoongi, as Seokjin’s polite tenor wafted past them from behind. Yoongi faced the older man who had fixed his face into a calm, composed smile.
She yelped, “I’m sorry Oppa, please don't ground me!” She hastened to her feet and dashed past them, up the stairs as quickly as her little legs could take her.
The facade of pretending this whole time was slowly cracking, the foundation of Yoongi’s composure gritting between mixed materials of fear and guilt.
Seokjin inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said, pinching his nose. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, little fantasies she plays around with in her head. Just – forget about it, if you can.”
When Yoongi couldn’t reply, finding it much easier to stare at the wall behind the man’s terse features, Seokjin continued, “I don’t expect you to stay here if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll find you another place for the last three days if you want.”
Even now, even here, Seokjin was polite as ever. Yoongi wasn’t sure whether that irritated him or provided any sense of calm. Maybe he wanted Seokjin to affirm what Eunjin said. Was it so disgusting that Seokjin had to deny it instantaneously?
“So... what do you want to do?” Seokjin asked.
The air around them, cold and harsh from the Earth’s unpredictable weather cycles, amplified each beat of Yoongi’s heart. He was completely aware of every movement, felt vulnerable under Seokjin’s stare.
“I–” Yoongi started, clenching his fists. Seokjin remained passive. “I want to stay here.”
Seokjin didn’t miss a beat. “Then stay.” He started walking up the stairs and for the briefest moment, Yoongi wondered if things would be severed between them, unable to stitch up even with the best suturing, until Seokjin paused on the second step and said, just as softly as he did that night in his bedroom, “Do you remember now?”
He didn’t give Yoongi time to reply before he started back up the stairs, leaving Yoongi bewildered, but with the sinking feeling that he knew exactly what Seokjin was talking about now.
They didn’t speak about it for the rest of Yoongi’s time left on Earth, simply starting back up as good acquaintances and falling into an efficient partner system out on the field. With his excellent skills and propensity for reading cues, Seokjin became indispensable to the team.
Namjoon and Hoseok would often ask to borrow Seokjin for a few hours to help with their visits and soon enough, it became an all out war trying to be the lucky ones to receive Seokjin’s help. Even Mr. Bang called for Seokjin a couple of times.
“You’ve really become a star, Seokjin hyung,” Hoseok mumbled during lunch on their last day, chowing down on a buffet of leftovers from the past week. It was pretty nasty, old stir fry and bits of meat, but nothing could be wasted.
Seokjin blushed, always a picture of modesty. “Well, I learned everything from you guys,” and Yoongi only needed to take one look, their eyes meeting, before he knew Seokjin meant him.
“Ah rubbish,” Namjoon replied, “you can’t teach someone how to handle stuff like you do out there. Not from a textbook, anyway. You’re a natural, hyung.”
Everyone began to poke fun at the tinge on Seokjin’s cheeks, the way he’d swat away their compliments like they weren’t necessary, when it was quite the opposite.
Mr. Bang had approached Yoongi the night before, a question lighting up his spectacled eyes. Before Yoongi could inquire further, Mr. Bang handed him an envelope, followed by, “For Seokjin, please extend our invitation.”
After his supervisor had left, Yoongi hurried to open the letter, gasping at its contents. In the envelope laid a crisp, white sheet, overlain with a gold, embossed logo of the Station. An honorary request to attend their mid-year ceremony back at the Station.
The Station. Seokjin. Yoongi slowly pieced together the circumstances and couldn’t help but smile.
“Yoongi?” came a soft, oh so familiar voice.
“Hyung,” he replied. Looking around, Yoongi realized this was the first time they could have time alone together since the moment Eunjin spilled the beans. Every other minute had been filled with work or sleep.
Seokjin hesitated, rubbing his nape before saying, “I wanted to talk.”
Yoongi nodded and sat, offering the swiveling chair next to him. “Well, I’m all ears.”
Running his hands up and down the tops of his jeans, Seokjin started, “Well,” looking to Yoongi for reassurance, which he offered with a nod. “Well, I guess I wanted to make sure things were okay between us...” his voice trailed off, unsure, “before you head back.”
The unsaid question hung over their heads. But Yoongi found himself realizing that even with what Eunjin said, nothing had really changed. They proved just as much that they could work together great, even if not better, and Yoongi never felt Seokjin giving off an air of apprehension or awkwardness.
“Of course we’re okay, hyung,” Yoongi murmured, trying to get the older to catch his gaze. Seokjin remained silent, looking at the ground. “Hyung–” he insisted.
Seokjin started, “I just don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of pity party. I approached you after my mother died and Eunjin told you about that... thing... and I asked to assist your team because I’ve always wanted to be a medic and–”
“Hyung,” Yoongi repeated, with emphasis. He reached out to take Seokjin’s hand, which effectively did the trick, a quiet gasp leaving those pretty lips. “You were never an object of pity. These things that happened, all happened for a reason and,” Yoongi wondered how much he should say, what would be appropriate for a goodbye without revealing too much of his clashing heart, “I’m really happy that we met. That you came into my clinic and yelled at me for no reason.”
Seokjin met his gaze, eyes sparkling, an uncertain smile at the memory. He started chuckling, soft at first, then building up in volume, slowly shaking all over and Yoongi couldn’t help but giggle a little in return. Their laughs ended up filling up the room, swathing them, and Yoongi was light, lighter than the sensation of floating in zero gravity.
“Oh my god,” Seokjin wiped his eyes after they eventually quieted down, “I still can’t believe I snapped at you like that when we met, how embarrassing...”
Yoongi grinned, “Yeah, it was, hyung, how could you, a model citizen, do such a thing?”
An exasperated look and Seokjin nudged Yoongi’s shoulder, “You brat, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!”
“You love me, hyung, admit it,” he poked Seokjin in return.
A brief, faltering look flashed across Seokjin’s face, before the older man wrestled in his expression back to a gentle smile, “Of course, Yoongi-yah, of course.”
The tarmac radiated from the excess heat that blared above their heads, sun flares flashing through the near-absent atmosphere. Their ship was being loaded in the distance, crew transporting whatever materials they had left, significantly less than what they touched down with one and a half months ago, and Yoongi never felt so conflicted to return home.
Home? Where was it?
High up in the stars, hovering in a vacuum, built into impenetrable steel?
Yoongi’s brain supplied helpful reminders that he was a member of the Station, not an Earth Dweller. Intergalactic passport clutched in hand, the documents all laid out to remind him where he belonged.
Then why did he long to return to Earth each and every time between their missions? Thoughts of rocky dust, crumbling pavements, dirty hands and Seokjin’s ruddy cheeks filled his mind and Yoongi had to put a stop to it as soon as he could, before he’d turn around and run all the way back to the town. To Seokjin.
“Ready guys?” Namjoon slung his arms around Yoongi and Hoseok, swaying the trio together as they gazed at the shuttle.
Hoseok nodded, “Can’t wait to go home. Gonna take a massive bath, clean everything.”
Namjoon rumbled between them, “Count me in.”
Yoongi groaned, “Spare me, please. I’ve already put up with you two shits eating each other’s faces.”
The duo giggled in response. Hoseok really had no shame now that he and Namjoon had officially started dating. “You adore us, hyung.”
“Whatever,” but Yoongi knew he we wearing a small smile that wouldn’t disappear.
“Hey, so, what happened between you and Seokjin? Those days you slept over his place? Did you guys hook up yet?”
Yoongi gave Namjoon a look before the younger shrugged in return.
“Don’t even go there. Seokjin wouldn’t...”
“Who’s talking about me?”
They turned to find Seokjin shuffling toward them, as if uncertain whether or not his presence was welcome, before Hoseok waved him over. Yoongi couldn’t deny the effect that the older man had on him, feeling jumpy just at the prospect of being close. He schooled his expressions into a small smile.
“Nah,” Namjoon clarified, “we were just asking Yoongi here whether or not–”
“Whether or not nothing,” Yoongi interrupted.
Namjoon and Hoseok flashed him a pair of knowing smirks before turning away, winking. “We’ll help the guys out with loading the stuff.”
“So,” Seokjin looked at Yoongi with one of the most endearing expressions he had seen since day one, “I guess this is goodbye?”
The words cemented their reality but Yoongi still had one thing left to do.
“Not goodbye.”
At Seokjin’s confusion, Yoongi fished out the envelope from his carryon. A bit crinkled around the edges, its stark white sticking out against the bleak weather. “Here, from Mr. Bang.”
Seokjin’s fingers trembled as he reached to take it, looking at it like it was worth gold. “What is it?”
“Just open it, hyung. You’ll see.”
Yoongi watched Seokjin’s eyes skid over the letters, widening with each passing second. “Yoongi... This is...”
When their eyes met, Yoongi swore he finally understood what those movies raved on about, how time seemed to stop when it felt so right.
“Yes. You’re gonna get to come up for a bit.”
“I–I don’t know what to say,” Seokjin’s voice trailed off, hands gripping the letter. After a few moments of reverence in silence, he started again, “You know,” eyes to the ground, “I didn’t want to tell you this. I thought it could just be buried in the past, but it keeps coming back again. You keep coming back.”
Seokjin took a deep breath before continuing, “What Eunjin said... yes, I knew you when we were younger. We were in the same music class, you were just learning how to play the piano and the teacher called you up to demonstrate. Most kids would’ve thrown a fit, but you didn’t. I remember the song, still, to this day.”
Yoongi tried to recall, could place the setting but not the face. Young Seokjin must have been a rascal, or maybe even an extreme nerd, Yoongi couldn’t tell. But the revelation made everything a bit more clear, their interactions, Eunjin’s proclamation. “Wow,” he replied, whispering, “after all these years, then.”
“Yeah. You were my first crush.”
The sun was setting behind Seokjin, flares radiating behind him like a halo or an astronaut caught too close to the stars.
“Wow,” Yoongi repeated, dumbly. He really had no other words to say, not when Seokjin just laid it out like that.
Seokjin let out a hearty laugh, chest shaking. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to say much, and I was right.”
“Sorry, hyung, I just – It’s... cute.” Yoongi mumbled, shrugging with a smile.
“It’s okay, just thought you deserved to know.”
“Thanks.” The word came out in a whisper and Yoongi knew he should come clean, be vulnerably honest for once. “Hyung,” he said right before Seokjin was about to turn back on the tarmac, “since we’re being honest...”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’ve learned a lot since I've been back on Earth. About timing and meeting, about coincidences and how maybe there’s no such thing.” The words just started tumbling out, “Meeting you has been something so different. Half of the time, I don’t know how I feel around you and the other half of the time, I just want to...”
A hush. Seokjin urged, “Want to what?”
Now was the time to be brave. “Just want to... stay.”
The halo around Seokjin’s hair bloomed orange, grew and grew, and Yoongi barely processed how their faces were leaning closer until there was the soft pressure against his lips. Their kiss was nothing like what he’d expect a first kiss to be – Seokjin kissed him confidently but soft, dizzingly but sure. Yoongi unconsciously reached up to hold Seokjin closer, breathing in bursts of air as they paused between fleeting kisses, lips meeting and releasing and meeting again.
“And how did that feel?”
Yoongi smiled, “Like I finally know what I want.”
Town gossip traveled fast and Seokjin found himself staring at a poster that Eunjin had snatched from her class (“What did I tell you about taking things without asking?!”) that read with bold letters: “LOTTERY.”
“Oppa, maybe we can win it?” she asked, wide eyed and hopeful.
Statistics told him that their chances were little to none, surely everyone would enter for a spot to live up in space. The Station had announced the opening of an entire new wing and listed 300 slots just for the Dwellers.
Yoongi had radioed him out of the blue, excited about something confidential that he couldn’t explain fully, just mentioned, “You’ll hear about it, don’t worry. Just know... things are changing, hyung. Finally.”
“We’re going to enter it, right, oppa?” Eunjin repeated.
Seokjin tore off the attached entry form and beamed at his sister, “Of course we are, Eunjin-ah. Can you please get us a pen so that we can fill this out?”
That night passed as a blur, the possibilities heightening every emotion that swept through Seokjin's veins. Eunjin wouldn’t sit still, yapping on about what she would do up at the Station if they won. Something about floating her dolls into space.
So, standing in front of their mailbox the next afternoon, Seokjin allowed himself the luxury to hold onto an ounce of hope. He slipped the envelope into the chute and watched it swoop downward underground, on its way to the Town Centre.
Looking up at the sky, Seokjin wondered if Yoongi was waiting, just as he was.
Surely, surely.