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Backstage is chaos. And not their usual brand of BTS chaos, where everything moves in carefully organized madness, staff and roadies and band members flowing around each other in synchronized confusing patterns. No, this is… weird.
“Someone get him an ice pack!” Seijin shouts, at a personal assistant.
“No, oxygen - he needs a can, now!” A medic - Hyun-tae? - is trying to get Jungkook to peel off his oversized hoodie at the same time as he’s trying to force a can of pressurised oxygen over his mouth and nose.
“This is bad. He needs to calm down.” Namjoon is panicking, too.
---
It’s not hard to understand why. About three minutes ago, Jungkook collapsed in the corridor outside the stage. He went straight to his knees in the middle of the passageway, nearly tripping Taehyung and Jin, and it’s only gotten worse from there.
Yoongi had a headache already. It’s threatening to turn into a full blown migraine.
“This is not good.” Hobi appears next to him, his face stern. “Is it an anxiety attack?”
“Yeah.” Yoongi knows them all too well. “And this isn’t helping.” He gestures to the crowd surrounding Jungkook.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Namjoon asks.
---
“Get me a room and some time away from them. ” He tilts his head in the direction of the crowd of managers, with worried looks on their faces and phones clamped to their ears, already planning again.
“What can you do?” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, face full of panic. He’s this close to joining Jungkook in having a panic attack. They all are, in all honesty, because this is bad.
“Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi holds Namjoon’s arm, looks him in the eyes. “ I can calm him down. But I can’t do it here.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi is not subtle.
---
“Give me five.” Namjoon’s gone in an instant.
Yoongi is left in his wake, pushed out of the way as another stylist brings a bottle of water. Half their crew are crowding around Jungkook, and it’s making him panic even more. He needs space. He needs quiet, not someone shoving ice packs down his back and a hair dryer blowing air in his face.
“You’ll feed him?” Hobi whispers in his ear, covering his mouth. He doesn’t think this will make it onto youtube, but it never hurts to be careful.
“Mmm.” It’s been hours since the last feed, anyway.
---
Jungkook reaches out a hand, and one of their stylists, Min-Seo-noona tries to take, maybe to offer some reassurance but it’s not what he wants. Not what he needs. Jungkook shakes his head, points directly to Yoongi instead.
“What is it, Jungkook-ah?” She says, kneeling beside him, but Jungkook is all out of words now. He’s crying; everything about him says he’s confused, exhausted, and just… at the end of his rope.
He holds out his hand again. Yoongi would be lying if there wasn’t a tiny bit of pride as he pushes past the crowd to hug Jungkook tight.
---
He’s the one Jungkook needs when shit really hits the fan.
“We need some space,” Yoongi says, calmly, feeling at odds with the rest of the room - everybody is loud, there’s a TV going in the background, and at least a dozen people talking all at once, and it just… it’s too much.
A manager intervenes - wanting Jungkook to follow him in the corridor so he can no doubt interrogate him as to what’s upset him (if he doesn’t know already, said manager is not going to last long) - but Hobi steps in.
“It’s a good idea,” he says, firmly.
---
While Namjoon is off, trying to find a room that doesn’t have a security camera in, or stuffed full of noonas and staff and roadies, Hoseok is their buffer against the rest of the entourage, soothing ruffled feathers as Yoongi helps Jungkook, takes his hand, guides him away from the core of the group.
He’s good at it.
There’s something about Hoseok that makes people listen to him. People want to. He’s grown into it - learning to strike a perfect balance of authority and obedience that keeps the managers happy but the world turning to Hobi’s tune.
It’s working now.
---
He smiles, he nods in agreement when the manager tells him that they’re very busy and they don’t have time for a little breakdown, and he looks very serious as he agrees with the manager about how important it is for Jungkook to be strong. As he listens, Hoseok is helping Yoongi extract Jungkook from everybody’s well-meaning but smothering hands.
Even as his mouth says of course , Hobi’s guiding them out of the room, pushing them ahead of him, waving away offers of help, until they’re standing outside the room, alone, away from the chaos.
Yoongi’s never appreciated it more.
---
Outside in the corridor, Yoongi holds Jungkook’s hand, faces him head on.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter, okay?” He says softly. Jungkook nods, his sleeve covering his face as his shoulders hitch. He’s still crying, still overstressed.
“This way.” Namjoon reappears from around the corner, his face tense. He’s worried. They all are - Jungkook’s chosen a not particularly great time to buckle, but it is what it is. He’s human, not a robot, despite what management and fans seem to believe.
“Come on,” he says, to Jungkook, pulling him along behind; they end up in a corridor of storage rooms.
Perfect.
---
“I’ve got you.” Yoongi says. “I’ve got you.”
Hoseok closes the door behind them, a tense look on his face. Jungkook doesn’t care that they’re alone - he hunches over more, fat tears streaming down his face. It’s all just too much for him - he hates being less than perfect and today, he’s fallen well short of the ridiculously high bar he sets for himself.
Yoongi hugs him, presses Jungkook’s face into the crook of his neck, feels the tears dampen his shirt.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I know.”
He really does know. Tonight will make or break them, as BTS.
---
He’s scared, too. Out of his mind scared. Even being on stage for rehearsals feels weird, and stranger than normal. They’re preparing for something that could truly change everything for them - winning their first daesang would be amazing. It would open so many doors, start them on the path to making it like nothing else.
Getting to this point has taken so much, from all of them. Their maknae is too young, he thinks, too young for this hell, but nothing will stop Jungkook from diving in, and giving his all, everytime.
Hands grasp the hem of his shirt.
Please.
---
“Now?” he says, but it’s mostly rhetorical. Of course he does, this is why Yoongi got them time alone. But he never assumes, never insists that Jungkook nurses. If he wants it, he has to ask for it. It doesn’t have to be words - in fact, it rarely is. Jungkook prefers to lean his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, pulling at his collar with one hand as he holds Yoongi’s sleeve with the other. He becomes… needy. Small.
It’s a far cry from his usual demanding, cheeky self.
“Mmm,” Jungkook sighs, and like clockwork, his hand sneaks up to Yoongi’s collar.
---
“Okay.”
On top of the closest stack of boxes, Hoseok has left a blanket for them, neatly folded. It’s a red and white tartan picnic blanket, usually laid down by a noona in the corner of the dressing room so they can relax, catch up on sleep in between having their makeup done or between their turns in front of the camera for a photoshoot. Yoongi’s lost count of the number of catnaps that he’s caught on it, and Jungkook and Tae are never far behind.
Hobi’s been doing that a lot, Yoongi thinks absently.
He takes care of them.
---
His musing is cut short - Jungkook pulls again at his collar, a little firmer this time, and Yoongi gets the hint that isn’t subtle at all.
He sits down on the floor; it’s a little dusty, but Yoongi really doesn’t care. He’s still wearing his rehearsal clothes - baggy sweater, sweatpants from four years ago, trainers where he’s worn a hole in the sole - so it doesn’t matter. He brings the blanket with him, and once he’s settled, Jungkook follows, crowding close. It’s as though he doesn’t want even a single millimetre of distance between them.
The blanket covers them both.
---
He doesn’t fight but he’s not happy about it. The look of upset misery that he gives Yoongi as he drapes the blanket over him would be funny on any other day. Yoongi isn’t happy either - he prefers to nurse Jungkook on a couch, or on a bed, stretched out because Jungkook isn’t small. He needs the space. But needs must, as they say, and he makes it work.
He lifts his sweater under the blanket, pulls up the tank top he wears underneath as well, leaving his nipple bare. Underneath the blanket, Jungkook latches easily.
The milk flows slowly.
---
When they nurse at home, it doesn’t matter who walks in because… it’s only the band there. They’ve developed the habit of forgetting to keep the door closed but unlocked, so managers can’t just walk in any time they please (the fact that it pisses the management off is an unintended but deliciously passive aggressive side effect).
But when they’re outside, (in the real world as Tae calls it) rather than the isolated world dorm, they need to hide. A blanket provides plausible deniability, a shield against outsiders.
Yoongi desperately hopes Jungkook won’t choose today to fight him on it.
---
He doesn’t.
Usually, when he’s tried, Jungkook gets huffy, he gets frustrated. He doesn’t enjoy it, it’s never as good as when they’re nursing at home, or in Suga’s studio - the lock that Yoongi insisted on is his saving grace - and he just… doesn’t like the change.
Jungkook likes everything to be just so. He has a routine, he has a way he prefers for things to be done. After almost three years of nursing, he’s had plenty of time to make his preferences known.
Today of all days, things have to be different.
“I have you,” Yoongi says, softly.
---
Under the blanket is the best they’ve got, and, for once, it’s helping Jungkook to calm down. Yoongi is surprised but maybe it’s because it blocks out the world, maybe it’s because he’s hiding away, sandwiched between Yoongi’s chest and his drawn up knees. He’s so big but he still fits. Just.
Yoongi will take it.
It’s been a long time since they nursed like this, sitting on the floor of a backroom, between crates of wiring, and conference room chairs stacked up around them. It feels like they’re going back to where they came from, all those years ago.
---
He leans his head back against the wall, stares at the ceiling. Under the blanket, he keeps stroking Jungkook’s hair, soothing him further.
Jungkook’s anxiety is usually under tight control - it’s been a long time since it came out like this, in public. He guesses it might have something to do with how much everybody’s been hyping their performance, and the way that management have been beating it into their heads about how important this is.
Their first big award show. They need to transition from monster rookies to serious contenders, and this is supposed to be it for them.
---
They’ve been drilled on choreography until they can do it in their sleep, practised the lyrics over and over and over again.. Nothing is more important; everything has to be perfect.
Unfortunately, Jungkook has woken up on the wrong side of the bed today.
From being slow to the car this morning and catching a manager’s bad side, to being scolded by senior noonas left, right, and centre for not sitting still, standing still, or eating carefully, to stumbling on the stage and being the focus of their dance instructor’s wrath for being clumsy, it’s not going well.
Suga sighs.
---
It’s ten past twelve, and Yoongi is wondering whether Jungkook will even make it to the live show this evening. He’s not coping with today. None of them are enjoying the increased pressure, the constant pushing, the relentless drive for perfection but Jungkook is taking the brunt of it.
But this will help him.
It always has. Twenty minutes to nurse, to be calm and still, and then a reset for the rest of the day. It doesn’t always fix everything but it should at least give Jungkook the strength to carry on for a few hours more.
He hopes.
---
Under the blanket, Jungkook stirs, and Yoongi lifts the edge to peer inside. Underneath, he can see a tearstained face, lashes damp, dark circles under his eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Yoongi cradles the back of Jungkook’s head, holds him securely.
It’s unusual for Jungkook to nurse with his eyes open like this, seeking eye contact. Usually, he prefers his eyes closed, hidden away, just drifting into a kind of daze, but today, he’s being different.
Yoongi doesn’t mind. He brushes away a lock of hair from Jungkook’s brow, looks down into deep, dark eyes.
“Keep going,” he says, gently.
---
Jungkook slowly relatches, his mouth wide, but he doesn’t break eye contact. He seems to need it - needs to feel even more connected than normal. One hand is on Suga’s chest, spread wide, and resting heavy. The other is clutching a handful of sleeve, as if Suga will get up, push Jungkook off his lap, leave him in here alone. He won’t leave him alone with his tears, and his frustration.
He can’t.
Later, the others will come, with jokes and pats to the head, and fierce hugs, because he is their maknae, and they hate to see him cry.
---
They’ll bring food, make Jungkook eat it, send him funny jokes via text, encourage him to not dwell on his mistakes, on the failures that drove him to this point, with kind words, because they love him. Oh, they love him dearly. He’s always been their Jungkookie, loud and proud, in every way.
But this is Yoongi’s Jungkook. He’s smaller, now, and he doesn’t want rough hugs, his hair ruffled, and food pressed into his hands. That’s… too much, too close, too intense. He’s fragile now, more so than they’ll ever understand.
He wants peace.
Yoongi gives him that much.
---
He doesn’t say anything, but Yoongi doesn’t expect him to. He just wants to nurse, to be quiet, and still, to find solace in being close together.
The only time he gets a reaction from him is when he has to get him to swap sides. Jungkook doesn’t like it. Right from the start, the only objection Yoongi ever got was getting Jungkook to move to the other nipple.
“I know, I know,” he says, cradling Jungkook’s head. He tries to pull down his sweater over the other nipple but Jungkook whines, pushes his hand away.
Yoongi doesn’t fight him.
---
They nurse for forty five minutes. Yoongi checks his watch occasionally; he doesn’t say anything about the passing of the minutes aloud. It’s the most time it’s taken in a long while, but Yoongi refuses to rush him. He can do it under fifteen - maybe even under ten, if they tried - but this is more than just food.
Outside, he hears the sound of someone talking - Hobi, and maybe a manager. They have other things to film or work on. Jungkook and he can afford to take time out right now. One of the few perks to being senior rookies.
---
Jungkook is calmer now. His tears are dry, and his face is no longer as red or hot. His hands no longer shake, nor grip as tightly onto Yoongi’s sleeve.
When Yoongi’s milk is gone, he lets go, reluctantly. He clearly would like to keep going, but even Yoongi can’t push it to an hour, and nursing while he’s out of milk is… it feels odd. Not painful, but it’s not the same.
He pulls down his shirt, and his sweater, watches as Jungkook follows his every movement with dark, heavy eyes.
“We’re going to do this, Jungkook,” he says.
---
“I know.”
“You can do it.”
“It’s hard.” He sits up, pulls the blanket with him. Cool air rushes to fill the place where he was laying. Yoongi has the urge to pull him back, keep him there for a little longer.
They can’t, though.
“Hobi will help you.”
“I know the routine.” He sounds frustrated - with himself, and it hurts to hear it.
“Of course.” Yoongi is the voice of reason for Jungkook, always. “But he’ll go through it with you again. It’s probably the new stage. Everybody’s not used to it.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound very convinced. “Maybe.”
---
“This is big,” he says, softly, holding his hand to Jungkook’s cheek. He can’t miss the way Jungkook turns his face into Yoongi’s hand, seeking more comfort. “It’s okay to be scared.”
“Nobody else is.”
“Aren’t we?”
“No?” But Jungkook doesn’t sound confident about it. “Are you?”
“I feel like I ate a butterfly garden.” He does. It’s not comfortable. He’s been pushing down the feeling, used to ignoring it, but every so often, it still hits him hard. They’re performing for their first daesang. They might actually make it. He dreamed of it. But never imagined it really happening.
---
“Oh.” Jungkook seems stunned by that revelation, as if he never considered that even Yoongi could be feeling scared.
“You’re not alone in this, Jungkook-ah.” He means it. “Not now, not ever.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that, but he does smile - the small, shy smile that Yoongi has selfishly dubbed as his, because he’s never seen it directed at anybody else. It’s so soft, so sweet, honest in a way that only Jungkook can be.
Today is going to be hard; there is no escaping that reality. But he knows that Jungkook will be able to face it now.
---
Jungkook slips out first, closing the door behind him without a backwards glance. It’s so very him - once he’s decided he’s okay, he dives straight back in. No doubt Yoongi will find Jungkook stealing someone’s food, or playing with Jimin or Taehyung, or even hassling Jin to within an inch of his sanity.
It’ll probably be that last one. Jin is a maknae magnet, at the best of times, and when Jungkook wants to blow off steam, he’s glued to Jin.
The door opens again, and Hobi slides in.
“He looks happier.” He leans over the stack of boxes.
“Yeah.”
---
“How about you?”
“I’m fine.” He shrugs, takes Hobi’s hand as he pulls Yoongi to his feet. His sweatpants are dusty; Hobi helps to bat the dust off. “It’s.. been a while since we did it like this.”
“He needed it.” He holds the door open for Yoongi, but stops him before he walks through. “Here.”
Gentle fingers adjust the neck of his sweater, tucking it back into alignment. Hobi loves everything to be just right - it’s probably why he gets on so well with Jungkook.
“What set it off?” Hoseok asks, his voice low.
“The stage. The pressure. Management.”
---
He doesn’t actually know for sure, but he thinks that everything being so different, and the pressure he’s been getting from all sides… it just got to Jungkook, in the worst way. Throw in a complete panic reaction from their staff and it was just a recipe for disaster.
“I’ll help him.”
“I said you would. He needs it.” Pacing Jungkook through their live performance with Hobi there, as his Dance Captain self will help. If J-Hope says that a dance is good, it’s good. It’ll be reassurance for Jungkook’s nerves.
“When will you feed him again?”
“Tonight.” Yoongi shrugs.
---
He’s drained now, feels empty in a way that he can’t describe. The tide of hormones hasn’t receded yet, love, pride, affection - all coursing in his veins. It will be for a while. It always does after a feed. His body has changed for Jungkook, and he absently touches the swell under his sweater. It won’t be long - he’s got it down to a science, knowing when he’s full.
Jungkook has learned. He’ll appear when it’s time, lean his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, crowding close as though personal space isn’t a concern anymore. No words are needed.
He just knows.
---
“Okay.” Hobi smiles at him again - that strange, understanding smile again. It surprises Yoongi sometimes. How easily Hobi accepted it, how he says things, as if it’s no big deal. Maybe to him, it isn’t. He doesn’t seem to bat an eyelid at seeing them nurse.
“We just did individual interviews. You and Jungkookie still have to do that, though.”
“I look forward to it.” Hobi smirks. They both know he’s lying through his teeth. But it’s the price he pays for the job he does, and he got an unexpectedly free almost-hour thanks to Jungkook so…
He can’t complain.
---
A shout echoes down the corridor, and laughter follows it.
“He’s found Jin then,” Hoseok says, shaking his head.
Another shout, more laughter. There’s the sound of a slap, and a loud Jungkook-ah! from Jin, and then the sound of Jimin’s giggles as well. A loud thump makes Yoongi sigh. From that alone, he knows that Jungkook’s back to his usual self.
“After you,” Hoseok says, waving him through the door first.
“Thanks.”
He knows it won’t fix everything. But if it works enough for Jungkook to make it to tonight, without breaking down again, Yoongi will take it, gladly.