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“One, two, three…”
The music starts and the band moves, bodies gyrating in time to the beat; the only sound in the studio other than the music is their heavy breathing and their shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors. Synchronization comes almost easy after all this time. Even if some hit the moves sharper or in a different way, they were always in step with one another to the point where they were a well-oiled machine.
But this time, it’s different. Jungkook feels it immediately—the way his body isn’t quite falling into the beat the same as the others. He’s sluggish, body uncooperative despite his efforts. When he misses yet another step, Jungkook curses.
“Stop, stop,” Hoseok calls and Yoongi reaches for the stereo to pause the track. Seokjin groans and grabs his water off the floor. It’s clear that everyone is getting frustrated and Jungkook knows it’s all his fault. Taehyung is biting his lip, catching Jimin’s eye in a way that Jungkook wishes he could see as anything other than pitying.
It’s their first comeback since the accident; his first chance to prove to ARMYs that he’s better now, that he’s just the same Kookie as before. But he’s not, and it’s killing him. This is not like him, he knows. He’s usually the one that gets the choreography the fastest, aside from J-Hope and Jimin; he’s usually helping the other dance liners teach their less physically-inclined members.
Instead, the members are all stopping for him, and he hates it.
Jungkook bends down to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees. “I’ll get it,” he says quickly, before Hoseok can begin pointing out his mistakes. “I know what I did wrong, hyung. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”
“Kookie…” Hoseok begins, but stops as if he isn’t sure what to say. His own desire to teach others and perfect their dancing is obviously battling with the part of him that just wants to wrap the maknae in a blanket and snuggle him into oblivion, promising him that all that matters is he does his best.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” Namjoon says, offering a smile. “It’s a lot to learn at once and Yoongi hyung looks like he’s ready to pass out anyway.”
“You guys go ahead,” Jungkook says, smiling back. It’s not a very convincing smile; it feels far too tight on his face. “I obviously need the extra practice since I’m the one that keeps messing up—you all shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”
Yoongi looks torn, eyes glancing between Jungkook and the big clock hanging on the wall displaying the time as being shortly after one in the morning.
“It’s fine, hyung. Go get some sleep; I know you worked hard in the studio all day and tomorrow will be just as packed. I’ll be fine.” This time, Jungkook’s smile is a little more sincere; he knows that Yoongi works harder than just about anyone and he really does look exhausted. All of his hyungs do and he hates that he’s the reason behind those weary expressions.
“I’ll stay with him,” Jimin suddenly says, draping an arm around his shoulders. Ever since their confession and the sweet kiss they’d shared in Jungkook’s bed after he’d come home from the hospital, they’d been stealing more and more of those intimate moments with each other, to the point where both considered the other to be his boyfriend. Nevertheless, they had decided that their relationship should be a secret for now; not because they don’t trust their bandmates to be accepting of them, but because it was all so new and they wanted to be able to explore it without the play-gagging and teasing they knew would inevitably follow the discovery that they were together.
“I know the choreography almost as well as Hoseokie hyung, and Kookie does like me best,” Jimin continues, giving them his crescent-eyed smile that none of them could resist to take the sting out of his bragging.
“You sure, Jiminie?” Taehyung asks. “I can stay too, if you want.”
Jimin shakes his head, holding Tae’s eyes in an unreadable expression that the other seems to understand only too well, as he nods almost imperceptibly and drapes an arm around Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s shoulders. “Let’s go then—first dibs on the shower!”
Hoseok looks both relieved and disappointed as Taehyung all but drags the other two out of the practice room. “Don’t stay up too late, yeah? You both need your sleep.”
“And don’t let Jungkook-ah overexert himself—if I know our maknae, he’s just waiting for an opportunity to put himself in an early grave from working too hard,” Jin says, pinning them with a stern mothering look. Jungkook makes a face back, not bothering to refute the words as they’re true enough.
“We’re used to staying up late—night owls, remember?” Jimin says, and his fingers brush across the nape of Jungkook’s neck in a subtle gesture that makes him suck in a breath and hold it; he wonders if the others notice and then decides he doesn’t really care because any time that Jimin is touching him is a good time. “But I promise, I won’t let Kookie work himself too hard.”
“You either, Jiminie,” Hoseok adds. “I haven’t forgotten Nurse Jinah-ssi telling us that you need to be watched more closely, too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now shoo—and Jin? Could you save us some leftovers?”
“Of course. Be good, you two,” Jin says and then waves before he and Hoseok leave.
Jungkook immediately goes to start the music back, but Jimin catches his hand.
The younger looks sharply at his hyung in surprise, wondering why he’d stopped him. “Hyung?” he asks in question.
“Hold on a minute, Kookie. I wanna talk for a second.”
Jungkook sighs. “Do we have to? I really just want to get this choreo down…”
“That’s just it, Kook. This stuff usually comes easy to you; I haven’t seen you struggle this much, not even when we were trainees. Is your hip bothering you again?”
Jungkook shakes his head, but finds it difficult to explain just what is wrong with him. There’s no physical reason his body should be reacting so sluggishly to his demands. He’d gotten a clean bill of health from the physical therapist a week ago and he’d been eager to get in the studio and back to normal again. “It’s not that,” Jungkook begins.
“Then what is it? I’m worried about you,” Jimin says. He reaches up and touches Jungkook’s face. The expression on Jimin’s beautiful features is too much for the younger to take—he hates this, hates feeling like he’s holding everyone back.
“I don’t know!” Jungkook bursts out, turning away and running his hands through his hair in frustration. “It’s like my body just doesn’t know how to move anymore.”
Ever since joining BTS, Jungkook has been the Golden Maknae. The one who could do it all—sing, dance, even rap occasionally. He’s never really had to try too hard; things just came naturally to him.
That isn’t to say he didn’t put in the work, because he did. He always prided himself on his strong work ethic and his perfectionist tendencies. But right now, all he could think of was how smoothly things had been before and how they weren’t anymore.
“Kookie…” Jimin’s voice is soft, but it’s not pitying. It’s more curious than anything and Jungkook is grateful for that because he can’t handle pity right now. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
The maknae closes his eyes and shakes his head. He doesn’t know what’s going on in his head. He wishes he did, because then he’d be halfway to figuring out how to fix it. He wants to fix it so badly; he wants to be perfect again. He wants to feel like he’s adding something to this group, rather than holding it back.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Jimin adds, and this time, he reaches out and runs his hand down Jungkook’s arm before taking his hands in his own smaller ones.
“Of course I know that…” Jungkook murmurs, looking at their joined hands and feeling something warm and soft flow through his veins to fill his chest. “I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. God, I wish I did, because then I could fix myself and I’d be golden again.”
Jimin purses his lips. “Is that what this is about? Being golden?”
Jungkook pauses, tilting his head in curiosity. He isn’t sure what exactly Jimin is saying.
“Kookie-ah…nobody’s perfect. Nobody’s really golden.”
“But Jimin hyung, that’s my whole concept. The Golden Maknae, the one that can do anything. I liked being that—it’s what made me important, why I fit the band. It’s what the ARMYs expect, now that I’m back.”
Jimin looks aghast. “You think that’s why you’re in BTS? Because you were good at everything?”
“I…isn’t it?” This conversation is not going where Jungkook thought it would.
“I mean, I can’t speak for the whole company but…you know you almost didn’t make the cut, right?”
Jungkook blanches, pulling his hand out of Jimin’s. What the hell kind of pep-talk is this? He can’t help but feel hurt by the other’s words, but Jimin just grabs his face, forcing him to listen rather than shut down as he wants to. “That’s not what I meant—you have been and always will be the right choice for BTS, for me, for everyone. It’s just…you weren’t chosen because you were perfect. None of us were. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what exactly are you trying to say? Because honestly, this is the literal worst pep-talk I’ve ever gotten and…”
Jungkook’s words are cut off because Jimin stands on his tip toes and plants a solid kiss to his lips. Jungkook can’t help but melt into the kiss, arms moving to rest on Jimin’s waist. When they part, he takes a breath to steady himself. “Stupid Kookie…” Jimin murmurs. “If you’d just shut up and let me talk, I’d get to the point.”
“Such a demanding hyung…” Jungkook murmurs back, but purses his lips and steps back to give Jimin the chance to explain himself.
“When they were deciding on the trainees who would become BTS, they worried about you. They said you were too shy, that you had stage-fright and they were worried that you’d crack under the pressure of being an idol in front of all those people. Remember?”
Jungkook nods; of course he remembers. He’d been almost desperate to prove that he could do it. He’d made every effort to come out of his shell; it didn’t always work—he still gets shy around girls especially, and sometimes he needs to be coaxed in order to say something in interviews or Bangtan Bombs, but he’d gotten over his stage-fright pretty quickly and now he couldn’t imagine a place he felt happier (except maybe in Jimin’s arms whenever they sneaked into each other’s beds at night).
“You were far from perfect,” Jimin continues. “But it didn’t matter. Because you had potential, you had passion, you had a strong work ethic. You’re handsome too…”
Here, Jimin tickles the spot just under his chin and Jungkook has to bite back a groan because Jimin knows what that spot does to him and it’s taking everything in him to not push the smaller man against the nearby mirror, pep talk be damned.
“You were not chosen for BTS because you were the Golden Maknae. Rather, being a part of BTS is what made you the Golden Maknae. You were chosen for BTS because you’re you, and that hasn’t changed.”
Jungkook bites his lip uncertainly. He doesn’t know if he should say this next part, but it’s been bugging him more than he would like to admit because of course he knows he’s not perfect; this wasn’t really about being golden necessarily, though that had been a part of it.
“You’re still thinking too hard,” Jimin points out. “What is it?”
“If none of that has changed,” Jungkook begins, “If my importance to BTS isn’t because of being the Golden Maknae, then why was it so easy for you all to carry on without me?”
He couldn’t forget it; the way they’d effortlessly fallen into place around the void he’d created when he’d been in a coma. He had watched videos of their performances, saw them do it live for him while he was recovering. And he’d been so proud of them, he had. He of course wanted them to all do well, with or without him. But somehow, it still stung. To know that even without him, BTS could continue on; that Jeon Jungkook was simply a seventh wheel on a machine that could happily operate on six.
He’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that if he just went back to being exactly as he had before—the perfect one, the Golden Maknae—he could find his place again. That if he just found that perfection he thought he had, his alter-ego if you will, that it would be as if he hadn’t left. That he was just as vital as he’d felt before.
But now Jimin’s eyes are filling with tears and he’s so fucking tired of making his hyung cry. He reaches up quickly, trying to stop the tears from falling. “No, please don’t cry. Hyung, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it. Just…forget any of that. It’s probably stupid anyway…”
“You really think it was easy?” Jimin asks. “That we just shoved you to the backs of our minds and forgot about you while you were lying in that hospital bed?”
“I…” Jungkook begins, shaking his head. “No. Of course not. I shouldn’t have said that…”
Jimin pinches his arm to shut him up and Jungkook hisses. “What the hell, hyung? I said I was sorry!”
“How could you even think that for one second, you brat? Don’t you see?” Jimin continues, ignoring Jungkook’s affronted expression. “You were always there, whether you were physically there or not. Every word I sang, every word I couldn’t sing was because of you. Every time I looked to where you should be, I wished I could switch places with you, that I could have saved you. It was a battle, sometimes, just getting out of bed in the morning knowing that you couldn’t—that you might never. But I thought you wanted us to continue, so we did. We tried our best. The ARMYs were so worried, too. Every concert we did without you, they brought signs wishing you well, every fanmeet they would ask how you were doing, if you were awake yet…you never left our minds or hearts, Kookie. Not even once. So no, it wasn’t easy at all. Without you, we couldn’t be BTS.”
Jungkook decides then that he’s been stupid, as usual. Of course it hadn’t been easy for his hyungs. They’d still held him with them while he was unconscious, and he knew—though he couldn’t remember any of it—that he’d held onto them, too. He firmly believed they were the reason he’d ultimately awakened. He shouldn’t have forgotten that.
He pulls Jimin to him and just holds him, clenching his eyes closed tightly and just breathing in the elder’s scent—strawberry and a dash of coconut. “I’m so sorry, hyung. I should have known…”
Jimin shakes his head, clenching the back of Jungkook’s shirt in his tiny fists. “We should have been better at realizing what was bothering you. If we’d done a good job of showing you how much we needed and loved you, you wouldn’t be feeling all this added pressure.”
“I’d probably be feeling it anyway,” Jungkook admits. “I just want to be the best I can for you all.”
“Just be you, stupid, and you’re doing all right in my books,” Jimin says, pulling away again before wrinkling his nose. “But it couldn’t hurt getting the choreography right this time, yeah? I’d like to go to bed sometime tonight, after all.”
Jungkook laughs and presses a chaste kiss to his hyung’s lips. “You’re right. Let’s run through it. Don’t hold back, either—I can take the criticism.”
“Sure you can,” Jimin says and extricates himself entirely from the other so he can turn on the stereo.
This time, when the music starts, Jungkook does his best to relax and just let go—to feel the music, rather than count the steps and stress over every mistake.
And if Jimin decides to reward him with kisses when he does well, then who is Jungkook to question his teaching methods? Needless to say, when the comeback officially drops, the Golden Maknae doesn’t miss a single step and when the others ask what Jimin had done, the other just grins and exchanges a look with Jungkook, making the younger blush a little.
“Just reminded him of what makes him golden,” Jimin answers and Jungkook thinks he’d do just about anything to prove that he’ll never forget again.