Chapter Text
Jeongguk, all in all, was having a pretty good day. Firstly, he’d woken up this morning naturally, just rising with the sun. Because of that uninterrupted sleep, his body had felt fully energized, so when it came time to go to a photo shoot his skin was aglow and smile genuine. Then after the shoot, Seokjin had whipped up some delicious doenjang jjigae soybean stew for lunch, satisfying Jeongguk inside and out. As he ate, he also did some English self-study, and he actually understood a majority of it today. That of course just made him even more invigorated, so by midafternoon he was in the gym, lifting weights and buzzing with endorphins. Hungry again, but having missed dinner, he had gone to the convenience store for a nighttime snack, and what had he found? A fully stocked shelf of his favorite protein bars.
So yeah, all in all, Jeongguk has been having a pretty good day.
He takes another bite out of the bar he’s currently munching on and hurries up to his dorm, needing to use the restroom. Through the darkness, he spots a familiar car outside of the building, and doing a double take, sees Sejin-manager standing a little ways off, deep in conversation.
Jeongguk lifts his hand to wave but uncertainly lowers it when Sejin sternly speaks into his phone:
“Yes, I understand this is a problem for NEWave as well, yes I – I know, but I don’t want to meet with any of their lawyers until I discuss it—” his fingers clench into a fist as he paces back and forth, “but they’re children…”
Furrowing his brows and pouting his lips, Jeongguk tosses the remainder of his snack into the trash bin on the trek towards the dorm. He’s not sure what’s going on, but hopefully his hyungs will have an idea.
It’s strange though – their manager hadn’t seemed on edge last time he came over, and Jeongguk thinks everything is going well for BTS. They haven’t been roped into any fake scandals recently; their busy agenda for the comeback has been running smoothly; and, while he hasn’t been able to hang-out with his hyungs as frequently as he wants, each time he sees them, they look happy.
Even just this morning, at the photo shoot, everyone was goofing off as usual, playing around with the wardrobe and making silly poses during break time.
Jeongguk sighs heavily as he opens the door to the dorm. Whatever it is, he’s sure Namjoon will get everything under control. He’ll tell them what to do and Jeongguk will try his very hardest to follow. To make everyone happy.
With that in mind, he methodically slips off his shoes and steps into the kitchen. A mouthwatering smell is drifting out of a plastic bag on the island counter, pulling Jeongguk towards it. He’s surprised, however, that his hyungs aren’t all already congregated around the food. Touching the bag, it feels cold.
Confused, he lifts his head, about to call out at the top of his lungs that he’s home, then quickly scarf down as much of the food as possible before they can make it into the kitchen, all in the hopes of getting an amusing rise out of them, when he hears an odd blend of wheezes and… sobs?
Jeongguk jerks his head to the left and promptly intakes a sharp breath, for in the living room are his hyungs, weeping – genuinely weeping – as if they’ve just lost a loved one.
Every hair on his body stands on end.
“Hyungs?”
Namjoon spasmodically rounds his way until their gazes meet – confused doe eyes against bloodshot brown ones. Jeongguk gulps and takes an uncertain step forward. “Namjoon-hyung, what’s, um…” he helplessly looks at his leader for any sort of explanation, because right now, with six pair of wet eyes regarding him in disbelief like he’s some ghost in the wood, Jeongguk’s afraid.
His blown-out gaze travels from Namjoon to Jimin to Hoseok, slowly around the room, but nobody answers him. They all just stare, and eventually, Jeongguk’s nerves force him to look away. His eyes dip to the right, landing directly on the glowing TV screen, which is paused on an image of him and Iseul sitting… in a storage closet.
Jeongguk’s mouth unhinges, dry air skidding down his throat as absolute shock runs through his system. He stares at the picture before him. He stares at his pasty, disheveled, wrecked self.
There weren’t supposed to be any cameras in that closet. He had checked for cameras. If he’d known…
Jeongguk shudders.
…how much had his hyungs seen? How much had they heard?
Brain going haywire, Jeongguk stumbles back. He wraps his arms around himself, feeling blunt nails dig into the sleeves of his t-shirt, and breathes. Past his panicked haze, he’s surprised that his hyungs haven’t immediately bolted up to calm him. Rather, they remain motionless, hugging themselves. Hugging each other.
Slowly, Jeongguk’s arms fall away from his chest. While his hands still tremble and his breaths remain short, his panic begins to shift, until he’s no longer worried about himself. He’s worried about his hyungs, because in all their years together, he’s never seen them this collectively vulnerable – and looking at the TV monitor again, Jeongguk knows it’s all his fault.
He knows he’s been selfish.
He had thought he could move on from that week in Vietnam all by himself. He had hoped that he could work through his feelings – get over himself – but during that drawn-out process, he had completely ignored everyone else.
Sick and at ease in Hoseok’s arms, he had told his hyungs – promised them – that he would talk, and yet, now almost two months later, he’s still holding his tongue. And all the while, they’ve been waiting for him; treating every day like nothing is wrong; no longer calling him ‘Golden Makane’; joking around at photo shoots, all for Jeongguk’s own benefit. And he has soaked it all in, complacent.
Silently, Jeongguk bends down to the computer and closes its lid shut. “Hyungs,” he says again, trying to put some warmth into his voice, because he needs to calm them down, and he doesn’t have a very clear idea on how to do that except by copying Seokjin.
The truth is, he’s nervous beyond belief. He’s never been the adult in the room – the leader. He’s never had to be. He’s always had his hyungs to stand behind, and they’ve always let him.
That’s just one of the things that’s become so blatantly apparent over the last couple months, to the point that his emotions of self-doubt, his reactions to events during Idol Play, seem almost laughable to Jeongguk now.
He’s been so, so stupid, and his hyungs deserve better than that.
So yeah, Jeongguk may have absolutely no idea what he’s doing when he smiles Taehyung’s way. And he might be the most embarrassing human being on planet Earth when he crawls over on the floor to pull Namjoon into a hug. And he might sound dumb when he tries articulating any sort of apology…
… But he’s still going to try, because that’s what his hyungs would do for him.
“Listen,” he begins, voice slow, inexperienced. “I’m not sure exactly what you all heard… I’m don’t remember what I even said. It was so long ago, but yeah, I’m sorry for… everything? That week was just a mess.” He forces a half-joking smile at his hyungs, trying to lessen the tension in the room, but is met with silence. “U-Um, I realize that maybe I should have said something – that you all wanted me to say something... which, um, I really appreciate… but there were a ton cameras, and then we got home and I didn’t want to bother you all with anything and I’m sorry. Again. But I’m better now, seriously, so don’t worry.” He sighs, pressing his reddening face in Namjoon’s shoulder.
Namjoon’s voice is shrouded in pain when he finally speaks. “B-Better now? How are you better when we’ve done nothing to help you? How are you better if we barely knew anything was wrong to begin with?” The fact that Namjoon’s voice is right up next to Jeongguk’s ear makes the statement even more gut-wrenching.
Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze the shirt fabric behind Namjoon’s back, like he’s physically trying to anchor himself down so his feet can’t run away, because this interaction is going to be longer and harder than he was hoping. But, the time to go back to his room and draw up a meaningful letter, or a well-edited script, or step-by-step comic pamphlet on ‘how to talk about feelings for dummies’ has already passed.
“That’s not true, Hyung.” Jeongguk peers over Namjoon’s shoulder at Jimin. He shakily chuckles, “I mean you guys definitely made me feel awful—” Jimin’s eyes widen, “—b-but it wasn’t on purpose! And it’s not like I ever told you to stop.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.”
Gulping, Jeongguk pulls away from Namjoon – though the rapper’s hand doesn’t lose physical contact completely, still settled on his shoulder – so that he can tilt his head over at Seokjin, who looks awful.
They all look awful – rubbed raw, exposed, helpless – all because of Jeongguk.
“No, Hyung. We might have lived together for a while, but we can’t read minds.” Jeongguk pushes off the ground and weasels his way between Seokjin and Taehyung. He’s hoping the action will somehow calm them down, because hugs and supportive touching usually seem to do wonders for them, but it just has the adverse effect. They start crying more.
Jeongguk’s heart sinks; he’s running out of things to do that won’t completely destroy all the walls he’s painstakingly built up.
“B-But we said terrible things, JK. We ig-ignored you.”
A shaky sigh leaves Jeongguk’s lips; he bends his legs up onto the couch.
He doesn’t want to hurt them.
“Y-yeah, Hyung. You… I did feel like a failure sometimes, like I could never be enough for BTS. Like no matter how hard I worked, I would always be some bothersome child,” Jeongguk’s voice quivers, despite his best efforts. “But that was my fault. That was me misreading situations, and being too scared to speak up, because I was worried you guys wouldn’t… understand? But then I was worried you would… and you would start treating me differently for it. I’m sorry… it was so stupid.” He feebly smiles while picking at a loose strand of couch fabric, so that maybe some of the emotionally charged tension in the room will dissipate. He was already exhausted from working out at the gym earlier, and this conversation is surely not helping the ache in his… everything.
“Jungkook-ah?” Yoongi’s voice is as gentle as his eyes, yet as firm as his thin-pressed lips. “You say you’re better now, so that means that not only do you know that we know that you’ve done nothing wrong, but that also mean you know you’ve done nothing wrong, right?”
Jeongguk blinks as he processes Yoongi’s question. He can feel his heart rate picking up, slamming against his chest, and the pounding only grows stronger when his hyungs’ stares intensify, boring into him like they’re trying to see something Jeongguk can’t.
“Y-yeah, no, I’m good.” He means for it to be the final word that will get his hyungs back on their feet and smiling, because he’s fine. He has to be fine. He’s tried so hard to be fine.
So then why does his answer sound so weak?
Yoongi rises from his seat and crosses the room until he’s crouched in front of Jeongguk. He places his hand atop Jeongguk’s shaking ones (when had they started shaking so badly?) and with puffy eyes, peers up. “Jungkook-ah, I’m… I’m not sure you’re as fine as you think you are. If you truly were, if you really knew you’ve done nothing wrong, I don’t think you’d be blaming yourself so much.”
And staring down at his hyung, Jeongguk wants to huff out a disbelieving laugh, because he’s spent the last two months working out his feelings. He’s spent these two months paying attention to the ways his hyungs show Jeongguk how much they care. He’s spent two months telling himself to get out of his head. And now Yoongi wants to tell him that it’s all been for nothing?
Jeongguk opens his mouth, ready to laugh, but the sound that comes out instead is a sob. And another one. And another one, until he’s blubbering, tears rushing out in waterfalls. He at least has the awareness to cover up his wet, snotty face by burrowing it into the crook of Seokjin’s neck, but besides that, he’s pretty far gone. By this point, he’s just feeling, not thinking.
And he feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest.
“I-I’ve tried s-so h-hard, hyungs!” He wails, words crackling out of his throat, slurred with snot and saliva. His arms wrap around Seokjin’s broad, steady shoulders with a vise-like grip. “I-I’ve tried to get – get out of my head, because I know – I know – but there’s just too much, and I’m s-sorry. I’m so sorry. You all c-care so much, but I’m still me.” Tears continuing to gush out, Jeongguk slumps against his hyung, somehow feeling a warm hand card through his hair even though the rest of his body has gone numb.
When he finally gains the strength to push away from Seokjin, Jeongguk’s burning with shame, regret stewing inside.
“Jungkook-ah.” Taehyung’s hand cups his chin, tilting it away from the floor and towards his flushed face and twinkling eyes, unshed tears threatening to spill over once more. His voice is serious, in the way one of Jeongguk’s older hyungs might speak, but his bittersweet smile is friendly, in that genuine, giving Taehyung way.
The older breathes, in and out metrically, and at some point Jeongguk begins to follow along, until he’s gained enough control of his motor units to peak around the rest of the room. For as distraught as Jeongguk has become, it seems the opposite has occurred to his hyungs. They’ve now all broken out of the visibly vulnerable state they were in earlier. Now, he realizes as Jimin places his dainty, trembling hand on the back of his neck, his hyungs are trying to take charge again – trying to be strong.
A part of Jeongguk is grateful. Another part is guilty. He fiercely rubs at the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand. “I-I’m sorry for acting like this,” he chokes out.
A hand immediately encircles around Jeongguk’s wrist and lowers it back down. “Jungkookie, p-please don’t apologize.” Taehyung whispers.
Hoseok unstably rises, voice pleading. “You can feel however you want to feel, Kook-ah – always. And, and we’re so proud of you for sharing those feelings with us. We’re so proud of you, Jungkook-ah. So proud.”
Jeongguk robotically nods his head along to Hoseok. Even though the elder’s words sound distorted in his head, the hug he envelopes Jeongguk in is clear and concrete, causing a trickle of calmness to seep into Jungkook’s bones.
He swallows. “I… yeah, I know. It’s just… h-hard… for me. I’m not good at everything.” He tries to keep that last sentence from coming out, or at least from sounding so bitter when it does, but the instant he sees Namjoon take a step back, anguished, Jeongguk knows he’s let some of the hurt through.
He opens his mouth, but Namjoon speaks first. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be good at everything, Jungkook-ah. You’re our ‘Golden Makane’, perfect or not.” The leader tugs at the tip of his pink hair, then suddenly freezes. Apologies tumble out of his lips. His leg bumps into the corner of the coffee table. “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant. You’re not a ‘Golden Makane’ like we expect you to be great, because you could fail at everything and it would be fine, but, not that you would, I mean you are great –”
As Namjoon continues to ramble, and the rest of his hyungs either panic or grimace or sigh, Jeongguk stares off into space. He’s mildly aware of Namjoon knocking the computer off of the tabletop as he trips over the table leg, but the back of Jeongguk’s mind wanders. Eventually, it stops on the memory of his final day on Idol Play, riding the bus back to the airport, him and Iseul preparing to disembark.
“You are their ‘precious Makane’,” he had teased, to which Iseul had responded with a gasp.
“Gold. A precious metal.”
Jeongguk hadn’t gotten it at the time.
“A golden Makane!”
Staring up at his hyungs, at the stuttering heap of awkward apologies and vehement compliments that their brilliant leader has become, Jeongguk’s still not sure he gets it. But he wants to.
“Thanks,” is all Jeongguk says, but it makes Namjoon hush in an instant. From his position on the ground, now hunched over on all fours, collecting the computer, Namjoon stares up at Jeongguk, bewildered.
It’s a tiny bit amusing. It’s very endearing.
Jeongguk sits up straight, and the last tendrils of his panic onslaught ebb back down into the depths of his stomach for another day. He stares helplessly at his hyungs while twiddling his thumbs.
“We’re getting nowhere if we keep blaming ourselves or each other.” Yoongi ruminates, ushering Namjoon to his feet.
Jimin, who had moved to the floor as well, leans against the couch and bumps his head against Jeongguk’s foot. “Then what do we do?” He distraughtly asks.
The sound of a throat clearing in the entryway has all seven idols whipping their heads around. Meekly smiling, Sejin-manager walks into the living room. “I must not have seen you come in, Jungkook-ah. I’m glad you’re home safely.” The man smiles more. He reaches over the couch – over the human wall Jeongguk’s hyungs have surrounded him in – and lovingly ruffles Jeongguk’s hair. However, as he walks around to perch on the edge of the coffee table, his smile morphs into a thoughtful line. “As for what we do, I believe that should be left to Jungkook-ah.”
Lips slightly parted, Jeongguk stares at the man, stunned.
Sejin chuckles airily. “This isn’t meant to pressure you, Jungkook-ah. It’s just that, from the episode of Idol Play that I watched, and the end of your boys’ conversation that I caught – though I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop – this is a multilayered situation we’re dealing with. I don’t believe we will find one simple solution.”
Jeongguk sighs, because he knows his manager is right. Even with getting his hyungs to stop calling him ‘Golden Makane’ and he himself internally going through his problems, it hasn’t been enough. “I’m sorry,” he says again.
Sejin smiles.
Jeongguk motions his head towards the television screen. “So that’s what this is? The full TV show episodes?”
“Yes,” Sejin clasps his hands in his lap. “Besides some minor editing, this is what’s set to broadcast next week. This is what the world will see — ”
And the panic Jeongguk thought he could hold off until a different day starts to bubble back up, tightening his throat.
“— Now, that’s not to say we can’t do some negotiating with Odysseus Studios, and while contracts were signed months ago, we do have lawyers just a phone call away, but such an approach may not be fruitful in the end. Also, we don’t want to make it seem like BTS is hiding anything from the public eye.”
Sejin’s speaking of logistics now, but Jeongguk’s still stuck on the fact that the world will know. That so many of his insecurities will be played in teenage girls’ homes. Will become part of BTS’ history. Will forever define him.
It’s terrifying.
“Can you please stop for a second, Sejin-hyung.” Seokjin says. His hand rubs soothing circles along Jeongguk’s back. “What are you feeling, JK?” He asks, gently. “What do you think about all of this?”
“I-It’s, um, a lot.”
Jimin takes Jeongguk’s rapidly tapping hand in his own.
“Yeah, it is.”
Watching Jimin smile sweetly, Jeongguk feels a little more empowered.
“I’m not sure I want everyone to… see. To think of me differently. To wonder how I feel, when I don’t even know myself.”
Hoseok, who’s now seated cross-legged before the couch, chin resting atop the cushion, reaches out to squeeze Jeongguk’s socked toes. “It’s okay that you don’t know.” He mumbles, chin flush with the sofa.
Jeongguk feels the telltale wetness of another tear threatening to leak out and quickly wipes it away. “It is?” Disbelief floods his voice, but these are his brilliant hyungs he’s talking to, and Sejin-manager is nodding along, and...
“Yeah,” his hyung says. They all look at him, so patient, so happy, so ready to tackle him in a hug and never let go. Yet, they remain in place, waiting.
“But if might affect you guys too,” Jeongguk argues back, because he’s made a mess of things, and there’s no way he’s going to get out of it scot-free.
The corners of Namjoon’s eyes crinkle. “It might, and it should. Jungkook-ah, we’re here for each other. Whatever Bang-ssi made this to be years ago, we’re family now.”
And that. That is something – one of the few things – Jeongguk’s certain of too. “Okay,” he replies; he doesn’t know what else to say.
He doesn’t know, and his hyungs think that’s okay…
… and that makes Jeongguk… happy.
So happy that – despite his best efforts – his tears now do break through. They rain down uncontrollably, wetting his hands and Seokjin’s shirt. He’s shaking so badly he knows he’d fall off if his hyungs weren’t there to hold on to him…
… but they are there.
“Then how about this,” Sejin calmly suggests when Jeongguk’s sobbing has quieted to mere sniffling some time later. “How about tomorrow you boys go through each episode again—”
Jeongguk’s hyungs pale.
“—I know it will be hard for all of you, but it will give Jungkook-ah the ability to really determine each feeling presented, maybe even help him look at the scenarios from a new angle. Then he can decide what he’s comfortable with the world seeing.” Sejin scoots closer on the coffee table until he’s less than half-a-meter away from Jeongguk’s face. He steadily holds Jeongguk’s gaze. “I can’t guarantee anything will change. I can tell you right now they won’t pull the show all together or make any big edits. There’s too much drama for them to throw it away. But we might be able to make a deal later on, depending on public opinion. More importantly, maybe this will help you – help Big Hit be more prepared.”
From his spot near the table, Yoongi speaks up. “I don’t see any reason for us to try to hide this. Jungkook-ah has feelings. There’s nothing wrong with those feelings. We shouldn’t treat it like there is.” As the statement finishes, the rapper crosses his arms across his chest, and Jeongguk doesn’t think he imagines the petulant huff that gusts out of the elder’s nose.
He feels the urge to pull Yoongi into a hug, but with the way so many of his hyungs’ appendages are tangled around him, he settles on sloppily grinning at the older until his chapped lips feel like they’re going to split open.
Namjoon snorts, regarding Jeongguk with absolute adoration, and Jeongguk would be lying if it didn’t help his pride just a smidge. “While I agree, Yoongi-hyung, this is about Jungkook-ah.”
Yoongi turns his head, bottom lip jutted out, barely perceivable. “I know.”
Jeongguk wipes his nose on Taehyung’s sleeve, making the elder bat at him. “Thanks guys,” he says, no more than a whisper. “I – if you all are willing, I like Sejin-manager’s idea… to watch the show.”
His hyungs exchange a glance. Seokjin places his hand on Jeongguk’s thigh.
“If that’s what you want, then yeah, tomorrow can be movie day.”
“Oh joy,” Yoongi sarcastically mutters past a sniffle.
Sejin’s phone clicks as he types away. “I’ll clear your schedules for tomorrow, though I’m sure the McDonald’s ad team will miss you greatly.”
Taehyung slumps against Jeongguk, burrowing his face into the younger’s upper arm. “I could go for some McDonald’s.” He sounds exhausted, and looks perfectly content digging his cheek bone into Jeongguk’s muscle, and is acting absolutely, completely normal.
“S-so, you guys won’t treat me any differently?”
“Like how?” Seokjin pulls a face, incredulous. His fingers playfully walk along the couch back, creeping towards Jeongguk. “You mean like not force-feeding you my cooking?” The fingers pluck at Jeongguk’s nose, making him scrunch up his face. “You mean like not roughhousing with you when you get playful?” He ruffles Jeongguk’s hair, making the Makane giggle.
Then suddenly, the fingers stop their assault in favor of brushing back the dark locks from Jeongguk’s forehead, making him go wide-eyed.
“You mean like not giving you all the love you deserve, starting now? Because you do Jungkook-ah. You deserve to feel as wonderful as you make us feel.” The eldest smiles down, leaking fondness, and really, how does he expect Jeongguk to respond to that? He’s a grown man after all.
When no words manage their way out of his throat, Jeongguk feels his cheeks respond by heating up. He ducks his head down, causing his bangs to fall back over his forehead.
“Now, now,” Sejin clicks his tongue. He rises to his feet but leaves the briefcase on the table. “We don’t want to break Jungkook-ah. It’s getting pretty late, so I’m going to head on out, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Is that okay?”
Jeongguk raises his head, slightly startled. “O-oh, um, yeah. That’s fine.”
Chuckling, Sejin pats Namjoon on the back. “Well then, goodnight, boys.”
They automatically wave him off without moving from their spots in the living room. As the clock ticks on, Jeongguk feels his eyes growing heavy, and he’s honestly surprised Taehyung hasn’t dozed off yet. But the 95’ Liner is still awake, watching Jeongguk through half-lidded eyes.
“You still have some make-up on,” Jeongguk comments, brushing away a flake of mascara.
“And you still smell like gym.”
Jeongguk sheepishly smiles. “I should go shower then.” As he speaks, he attempts to rise to his feet, only to be held in place by Seokjin’s arm around his back and Taehyung’s head on his arm and Jimin’s grip on his calve and Hoseok’s hand on his foot and – since Sejin left – Namjoon’s hand on his other foot and Yoongi’s leg blocking the distance between the coffee table and the couch.
“Hyungs,” Jeongguk whines, even as he leans back in comfortable defeat.
Hoseok squeezes his toes. “I know this won’t make everything better – that’s not the point, there’s a lot to talk about – but should we have a sleepover tonight?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” then belatedly Jeongguk adds, “as long as I get to sleep in my own bed… and shower first.”
Seokjin nods to his right. “I’ll get the blankets.”
“Okay, I’ll get my stuffed animals… except for the tiger. I’m throwing her out.”
Jeongguk raises his brow, but decides not to question it, since Taehyung seems very invested in glaring at the toy tiger on the floor.
“TaeTae,” Jimin grins, using his right hand to poke Taehyung while his left hand massages Jeongguk’s lower leg. “If you get your stuffed animals, where are we supposed to sleep?”
“I’m not gonna get all of them,” Taehyung states, as if it’s the most obvious thing, and maybe it is. Maybe Jeongguk is just missing some secret part of the conversation going on, but…
“If you guys are gonna do something, why have none of you moved yet?” Because Jeongguk is still trapped on the couch, and, for all that he’s cried, losing the water out of his eyes hasn’t made his need to pee lessen.
“Aish.” Jimin grins, reluctantly letting go of Jeongguk’s leg with one last squeeze, and – once his other hyungs follow suit – helps Jeongguk into a standing position.
As Jeongguk shuffles around the coffee table (he has to shuffle since his hyungs refuse to be any more than a couple dozen centimeters away from him, and Jeongguk is already planning an escape route for when they near the bathroom) he side-eyes the computer sitting on top, and the unassuming flash drive plugged in.
In all honesty, he’s still nervous beyond words, because he’s already had to live through that nightmarish week once, and he’s not sure he can do it a second time. Then again, this time he won’t be facing it alone.
Of course, he knows that he was surrounded by his hyungs that week in Vietnam too, but it isn’t the same, because at that point he didn’t have them to really talk with. He wouldn’t let himself open up. Sure, he had their shoulders to cry on, but it’s altogether different when the people around him know why he’s crying.
It’s a scary different, Jeongguk thinks, but a liberating different too.
So maybe, it’s not better said that he won’t be facing it alone, but that he won’t feel so alone. Because he’s not alone.
Jeongguk knows that.
He knows that.
And when he forgets, he has his hyungs there for him – like right, physically there for him – currently trying to follow him into the bathroom on the group claim of needing to wash their faces.
Playfully grinning, Jeongguk reminds them that there’s another bathroom in the apartment and promptly slides the door shut right in their stunned, soiled faces.
*****
channels.vlive.tv
IDOL PLAY
20XX. 06. 05. 7:00 PM
IDOL PLAY: TRAVEL EDITION – VIETNAM – EP.1: Set Sail
12.1M
8.4M
999M
Pause.