Chapter Text
“Hyung,” it’s small and whiny, but he can’t help himself when Yoongi is finally there to offer him consolation. Yoongi takes a look at his face and his brow immediately furrows.
“Please don’t cry, Gukkie, baby, everything turned out just fine.” Careful hands settle over his cheeks, thumbs wiping away stray tears.
“I know but I just... I feel so disappointed and helpless, I hate it so much. I wanted our fans to have a good time and- “
“They had a good time, though, that much was obvious, don’t you think?”
A tiny sigh escapes him. “Don’t. I know they did but just don’t try to logic me out of this,” a wet sniffle, “I had something to prove to myself and I failed. Just hug me and let me be miserable, hyung.”
Yoongi chuckles, gives him a minute penetrating stare with those cat-like eyes of his. Fakes a put upon sigh and shakes his head fondly, but ultimately gives him what he has been craving for hours.
“Come here, bun.”
He tucks himself small in the open arms waiting for him, despite being taller. Buries his head in Yoongi’s neck and just. Breathes. The familiar smell of sweat, shampoo and skin, something uniquely Yoongi, the smell of home, washes over him, quells the cacophonic noise in his head.
Yoongi tightens his arms around him, brings him that much closer. The world around them slowly fades into a background hum, time slows to a crawl. Jeongguk finds that he doesn’t feel like crying anymore, he is simply empty, like a wineglass that has overturned on the edge of the table and spilled red all over the pale carpet. He’s spilled all his emotions on that stage and now all that’s left is a wide, gaping nothing. Distractedly, detachedly, he wonders if he is experiencing some sort of a crash.
“There you are! I got worried when you didn’t appear in the dressing room,” Taehyung’s voice cuts his musings. “Come on, lovebirds, join us, the rest of us want hugs, too.”
Yoongi slowly unwraps his arms and steps back. Taehyung is immediately there, taking his hand and threading their fingers together. Jeongguk lets himself be pulled into the dressing room.
There they all are, his best friends, his family. They look absolutely exhausted, sweaty and messy, the smiles now gone and tiredness cracking through the performance masks. It’s quiet in here, hushed, a little bubble of their own, a brief reprieve from the hectic rush that is their life.
“Look what I found! A sad bunny,” Taehyung breaks the hush, leading him to the couch and dumping him there, almost in Jin’s lap. “We can’t have sad bunnies here, the thought of a sad bunny is too depressing.”
Hoseok moves closer, dropping a sweet little kiss on the crown of his head, the kind that they all pretend to suffer through but secretly adore, “What ever shall we do about that, hmm?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jimin smiles mischievously, tapping his lips with a finger, “maybe...this!”
And then he is being tackled, fake wrestled, tickled by six pairs of hands. Someone throws a playful jibe, “Trust our golden maknae to want to be perfect all the time!”
An unexpected laugh is pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, from a place reserved just for the men before him, their smiles and huge bleeding hearts. He laughs and laughs, forgetting about his hurting leg, about the sleepless night waiting for him just around the corner, the stone lodged underneath his sternum.
Just as it’s all getting a bit too much, his laugh taking on the slightest hysterical edge, they back off, let him catch his breath.
“Jeonggukkie, it really wasn’t your fault. These things happen in life, unexpected and bothersome, yes, but there nonetheless. I know it hit you strongly, and your emotions are perfectly valid, but the concert really went fine and nothing is lost in the long run,” Namjoon grasps his shoulder and squeezes a little, all serious now, a true leader.
“Yeah, Joon-ah is right, this happened, you did what you had to do and now you can move on. I’m glad you let out your emotions right away, it’s not good to bottle them,” Jin untangles himself from the messy pile of stray limbs they’ve become, standing up, “now, chin up and let’s all go shower, you guys stink.”
Jimin lets out a bark of a laugh, eyes scrunching up into crescent moons. “Like you aren’t stinky and sweaty yourself!”
“Absolutely not! Everything about me is pure perfection, my sweat smells like roses and candy.”
They all groan in unison, at this point not even phased by statements like that. Jeongguk catches Namjoon’s eye and they share an amused Can you believe this hyung? kind of a look. He smiles a little secret smile at Namjoon’s cheeky wink. The conversation effectively terminated, they all slowly get up and begin to putter around tiredly, getting ready to go back to the hotel.
He feels better, filled to the brim with love for his hyungs who know him so well, know that he isn’t good with talking or emotions, likes attention but also needs time for himself to process everything properly. They always know just what to say and do, when to push and when to leave him be.
As he moves on autopilot, getting ready, his mind wanders, snippets of his surroundings flitting in and out. The thing is, he knows the worst is yet to come, this being just a small lull. It’s lurking for him, waiting for the moment he lies in bed and turns the lights off. The underlying uneasiness. Still there, just a bit sleepy now, like himself. He dreads the moment of its waking.
/
Finally ready to head back, they pile into the cars, Jimin with him. They both stick to their sides in unspoken agreement, quiet and contemplative. Jimin is out like a light just a few minutes after, face smoothing out in deep sleep of the thoroughly tired, passing lights casting elongated shadows on his face. Jeongguk observes the contours of his profile a bit. He looks so calm, peaceful, but there are dark circles under his eyes.
Feeling like a creep for staring, he turns to look out the window, the grey streets and sickly yellow wash of street lights an unseen blur. The evening has taken its toll on him, exhaustion seeping into his bones heavily. And yet, sleep evades him, remaining as elusive as he predicted it to be. The ride to the hotel stretches infinitely, the concept of time lost in the low hum of the engine and muted melancholic thoughts.
/
When the door shuts with a quiet click behind him, Jeongguk gets enclosed in his own world, the rest of reality and the whole day falling away in little chips and chunks, stripping paint on his messy canvas.
He busies himself with putting his things away and getting ready for bed. There is a quiet knock on his door. Jimin pokes his head inside.
“Hey Jeongukkie, you hungry? The rest of us are gonna eat together now, wanna join?”
“Nah, I’m not really hungry, hyung, I’m just tired. Think I’m gonna turn in early tonight.”
Jimin stares at him for just a second. “Okay, if you change your mind or need us, you know where we are. Goodnight.” He starts closing the door.
“Goodnight hyung.”
After that the only thing left is to lie down and turn the lights off. The resulting darkness, cut through only by the faint glow from outside, makes him restless.
He takes his phone in hope to distract and make himself sleepy. Scrolling through the comments on Twitter proves to be a bad idea, really, what was he thinking with that one anyway.
The web toon he starts to read is too complicated for him to follow in his state. He sighs deeply in frustration, chucks his phone to the side and closes his eyes.
The minutes tick by slowly, so slow, every little click of the clock on the wall heavier than the last. An hour drags by, still no sign of sleep. Jeongguk really loves his mind sometimes. Just another thing to add to the growing pile of his inadequacies. He will surely look like he crawled straight out of hell tomorrow. The make-up noonas will be thrilled to see him.
When the silence becomes too much, the darkness ominous, too pressing; the comforter too warm, suffocating, he decides to send it all to hell.
He gets up. His body already knows what he needs anyway. He lets it lead the way, familiar with the hotel hallway and where his bandmates are.
Stopping in front of Namjoon’s room, he chews his lip anxiously. Should he really disturb Namjoon? Maybe he has already fallen asleep, Jeongguk knows how valuable rest is. Being a bother would only make him feel like an even bigger brat than he already is.
Before can make up his mind, the door suddenly opens. Namjoon’s edges are soft, rounded, backlit by the low light spilling lazily from his room.
He cocks his head slightly, expression open and relaxed. “I heard footsteps outside stopping in front of my room and then silence. I thought it might be you.”
And isn’t that just like Namjoon, knowing him better than he knows himself sometimes. He feels inexplicably sad suddenly.
“Um... I-”, he swallows, overcome by shyness, unsure why he is here now that he’s done it, “I just, I needed... sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing really.” Looking down at his slippers, voice small, “I can’t sleep.”
“Oh, Gukkie, babe, I’m sorry. I should have checked up on you, I just thought you wanted to be left alone ‘cause Jimin said... well, anyway, I’m sorry.” He made Namjoon all bashful now, wow this is really his night for blunders, isn’t it. “What do you need?”
“Can I stay here? Just for a bit, I promise, I, I can’t be alone right now.”
Namjoon takes his hand gently, carefully, interlacing their fingers, “You know you can have anything baby, you don’t have to ask.”
Kisses his knuckles, a whisper of pressure, impossibly soft lips on his skin. “Come on in,” it feels like being pulled into more than just Namjoon’s hotel room, “and stay as much as you need.”
Inside it’s a mess, the kind of creative mess where only the person that made it knows where anything is. It’s familiar, comforting. He sits on the bed, already breathing more easily.
Namjoon joins him, sitting close enough to create delicious pressure and warmth on his side, nudges him with a shoulder.
“Wanna talk about it?”
He shrugs. “Not really, no.”
“That’s okay, we can do whatever you want.”
Namjoon’s hand is warm when he takes it again, playing with his long fingers, drawing imaginary lines on the palm. He waits patiently for Jeongguk to sort his thoughts, content to just sit there on the edge of the bed.
“What were you doing before I came here? Were you working on something?” He hates the thought of disturbing.
“I was, but it can wait, don’t worry,” a finger on his chin makes him look up into pretty brown eyes, “I think you being okay is more important.”
And that... he wishes he could agree with that, feel like he deserves that love. He can’t voice that out loud though, so he just tugs Namjoon forward, meets him in a tentative kiss. It’s a question, an answer, a plea. A million words exchanged mouth to mouth, none reaching the air around them.
Namjoon breaks the kiss slowly, pushes him gently to lie down on his side. Tucks in close to his back, no space left to separate them. A solid warm arm drapes across his waist. There are lips in his hair, calm, measured breaths on his nape. He shivers.
“Are you cold? Here, I can cover us,” the comforter gets kicked up from where it was lying at the foot of the bed. It cocoons them, makes everything a little smaller, a little narrower. Between soft sweeping touches everywhere on his skin, even softer lips on his neck and whispered endearments, Jeongguk finally relaxes, feeling safe in the strong embrace.
Before he knows it, the heaviness in his limbs drags him under into a deep sleep.
/
His eyes blink open in the pitch black, eyelids heavy. It takes him a moment to orient, to remember. Oh, he is in Namjoon’s bed, he came here because he couldn’t sleep. But, where is Namjoon? He turns, pats the bed and pillow next to him, still warm. The door is creaked open, a sliver of light falling on the floor, hushed voices outside.
“Hyung?” His voice is just a tad hoarse.
“Hey, bun, did we wake you up?”
Not the voice he expected to hear, yet it’s more than welcome as Yoongi comes to his side and crouches next to the side of the bed and brushes a hand through his messy bedhead.
“Yoongi-hyung,” he breathes, eyes closing on their own, “what are you doing here, I thought you were asleep?”
“You didn’t answer my texts so I went to your room and you weren’t there. The next logical choice was Joonie’s room.” Yoongi’s smile is a tiny wry thing.
“Yeah, I... I didn’t feel quite well,” understatement of the century, “hyung, I’m so embarrassed.”
“Why are you embarrassed, petal?” Yoongi’s understanding and concerned face is really pretty in the dim light, but that’s neither here nor there when he shouldn’t be the reason for such an expression on Yoongi’s face.
“I cried. On stage. I cried on stage, hyung. And I should’ve done better, should have worn slippers, why didn’t I wear slippers, who doesn’t wear fucking slippers-“
“Jeongguk, shut up for a second and listen to me for a bit. There is nothing you could have done. Nothing. It’s just the way it happened and it was handled accordingly, nothing more to it-“ Jeongguk thinks of arguing with that but Yoongi sees it on his face, “no, let me finish, you need to hear this,” Yoongi gets up from his uncomfortable crouch and sits on the edge of the bed next to him.
Namjoon sits down on his other side, takes his hand quietly. Jeongguk didn’t even notice him come back to the room, too focused on Yoongi. They are ganging up on him now, how typical.
“I know that you’re going to beat yourself up about it in your pretty head but I can tell you with full conviction that absolutely no one blames you for it or thinks you fucked up,” Yoongi’s stare is intense, unavoidable. He can’t break it, it’s impossible, but Yoongi then looks across to Namjoon, “you agree with me, don’t you Joon-ah?”
They really need to stop using all these combos of reason and softness with him, it’s not fair. Two gorgeous genius men practically falling over themselves to comfort him. And here he is, refusing to budge. It’s tragic.
Namjoon’s back to kissing his knuckles, damn him, the bastard knows what that does to Jeongguk. And now the big wide eyes, dear god. A man can’t even feel down without feeling guilty anymore.
“You already know what I think about it, baby. Just as I know that doesn’t change anything in that overthinking brain of yours. We’re still here for you, whatever you need.”
A teeny tiny bratty part of him stirs at that. It is a tiny part, okay?? “What I need is to be better and work harder, hyung.” How bold of him to say that while staring right into those eyes.
“You’re such a little shit, oh my god,” and that’s how he knows it’s going to be okay, Yoongi opening his arms expectantly for him. He always has a home to come back to, something to fall back on waiting for him, soft and warm.
“Just come here.” And who is he to say no to that. He is only human, after all.
He curls up as much as possible in Yoongi’s lap. The space that’s just his, outside the sternum just as much as the one on the inside.
Yoongi’s body curled tight around him, Namjoon’s lips in his hair. A hand on his back, big and solid, so warm. Warm, everything is warm, even inside his chest. Especially there. He’s full to bursting, carried on a wave of love and gratitude so strong he doesn’t know what to do with it.
Some day he might deserve them, but he can’t refuse this, this moment, when it feels so safe and right. Jeongguk is not good with words when it comes to what he’s feeling but he doesn’t need to say anything. They already know it all.
“Does your amazing hyung get a kiss for putting up with you?” And Yoongi calls him a brat, that’s rich.
He’s reluctant to move his nose from its nice spot in the crook of Yoongi’s neck but the promise of lips is alluring.
When he looks up he’s stunned all over again by how pretty Yoongi is. All intense eyes, cute nose and full lips. Not even the obvious underlying exhaustion or shadows under his eyes can take from it.
“A kiss for the best hyung? Of course.” And he plants a short peck with a smack straight on Yoongi’s cheek.
“Hey, who are you calling best hyung-“
“That’s not what I meant-“
Riling up his hyungs is so fun.
“I,” kiss, “know,” kiss, “what,” you, “meant,” kiss, “hyung.” Kiss.
Namjoon is playfully indignant behind him. Not cupping those dimpled cheeks is impossible, it’s a feat that is just Not Done.
“Don’t worry, we both know you’re the best hyung,” he whispers theatrically, and kisses him, too.
Namjoon laughs, the beautiful unrestrained sound just spilling out of him. Jeongguk feels proud. This is what he does well, making others feel better, making the room laugh.
“I have to agree with Yoongi-hyung that we’re amazing for putting up with you, kid, you really know how to pit us against each other.” How a face can possibly be that fond, Jeongguk will never know.
Sitting on Yoongi’s lap with his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders, he gets why he’s called a baby boy often. Nothing wrong with being spoiled a bit, if you ask him. Well, a lot wrong with it when he’s done nothing right today but shush, stupid brain.
“You love me though, so it’s all good,” it sounds cheeky but, actually, he needs the confirmation.
He’s not fooling anyone.
“Yeah, we really do, bun,” Yoongi replies without hesitation.
“Lord help us,” Namjoon pecks his nose.
And, somehow, by some miracle, he really believes them. He’s hurt, tired and shaky, away from home and everything familiar.
There is nowhere else where he’d rather be right now.