Chapter Text
2014
Namjoon stared down at the papers in front of him, hoping desperately that in a moment his alarm would go off, or his members would jump out from behind the manager’s desk and shout "Prank cam! We got you didn’t we? ”
But no one jumped out and no camera crew was revealed, and though he’d been pinching his arm for the last half hour, hard enough to leave bruises, he was still sitting here.
“You- you can’t do this.” Namjoon finally managed to say, mindless of how his voice was shaking.
Manager Geonwu slid a packet of paper over to Namjoon and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I’m afraid you’ll find we can, Mr. Kim.”
The leader’s heart sunk as he recognized the papers of his original contract.
“I’ve taken the liberty of highlighting the important parts for you.” The man said, checking his watch as if he weren’t upending Namjoon’s entire life.
“Section 8.2 clearly states that we have the right to request that you leave if your behavior should grown problematic. And if that fails, provided there is enough cause, we have the right to terminate your contract with or without your consent. We hope that you maintain your honor and agree to leave quietly.”
“I don’t want to leave.” Namjoon cut in.
“Then you are willing to forfeit your right to guardianship and agree to have nothing to do with the child?”
Namjoon’s eyes strayed to the folder sitting on the left of the desk, to the photo clipped to the front. The chubby smile, tiny fingers, bright blue eyes. Namjoon knew he must be imagining it, but he could swear he could see his own features reflected back at him, smaller and softer.
He took in a sharp breath, eyes fixed on the photo.
His daughter.
“Mr. Kim." Geonwu was now wearing a sympathetic expression that made Namjoon's stomach turn. It just looked wrong on his face, now that Namjoon could see how heartless the man truly was. "It’s not a hard choice here. We can ensure that she goes to a loving family."
“I’m sorry to say this," The man reached out to rest a hand on the folder. "But... You’re twenty-one years old. An idol. A rapper. What do you know of parenthood? What would you be able to offer her? A life of instability? Of rumors and paparazzi? Of no mother?”
“I-I can’t just abandon her.” Namjoon whispered. He felt numb, his brain moving slowly, struggling to catch up.
It didn't feel real, part of him kept insisting this can't be real, but the evidence was right there, staring back at him from a harmless looking grey folder.
Geonwu shook his head, sighing softly. “You wouldn’t be abandoning her. You’d be ensuring a better life for her. Isn’t that first and foremost what everyone wants for their child?”
And Namjoon couldn’t help the little flutter in his chest, reminding him I’m a dad now. I’m a dad now. I’m a dad.
“I wouldn't be able to visit her?” He asked, almost pleading as he met the manager's gaze.
Geonwu shook his head, office chair squeaking as he shifted. “It would be for the best, Mr. Kim. Your presence would likely just confuse and upset her place in her new family.”
“I..”
Namjoon couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photo, the little pink headband wrapped around hair that was just beginning to darken. He wondered if she’d grow up to be as clumsy as him or get her mother’s gracefulness. If she’d inherited his awful singing voice and his smarts, her mother’s raspy laugh and ability to read anyone like a sheet of paper. He wondered if he’d be able to stand the rest of his life knowing that his daughter was out there somewhere. And he couldn’t be a part of her life.
He gritted his teeth and moisture pricked at his eyes as he dragged his gaze up to Geonwu. “I could make it work. I could have both.”
The manager tapped hard on the folder as he leaned forward, expression turning cold so quickly that Namjoon's eyes widened. “All you would do is embroil BTS in a scandal that would destroy you and your members right here at the start and ruin their dreams of ever succeeding in this industry. Is that what you want your legacy to be?"
The man scoffed, sitting back. "Let me make this clear to you, Mr. Kim. It’s one or the other. You can’t have both.”
The air felt heavy, a pressure on his chest with every breath, the four walls of the office closing in. Namjoon gazed at the tabletop, heart hammering in his ears.
Two stacks of paper. Two paths.
Relinquish his right to his daughter or terminate his contract and give up his place in BTS.
“I have other matters to attend to, so we need to clear this up today.” Geonwu said, checking his watch again.
Namjoon shot him a watery glare, feeling a flash of hatred for the man.
How was anyone supposed to make this sort of decision in one afternoon?
How was anyone...
There was still the distant sound of horns honking on the street outside and voices in the hall, but they felt realities away. The world had ground to a halt, his thoughts so silent and so loud at the same time, a useless jumble of frantic chaos.
He didn't know what to do- he didn't know what to do- what were the fans going to think- he was too young to deal with this- he had a daughter- the backlash from this would be insurmountable- he was a dad now- the others were going to hate him- and he didn't know what to do- he didn't know- he didn't- he...
"Mr. Kim. Your choice?" The man asked, impatiently.
... he knew.
Namjoon reached out and slowly slid the photo out from under the paperclip. He took a shaky breath.
Maybe one day his members would be able to forgive him.
He picked up the pen, hand trembling slightly, and signed.
2019
"I'm so sorry, excuse me!"
The woman he'd almost bowled over turned around to shoot him a glare and Namjoon winced but kept his pace. The apron he didn't have time to properly pack away was hanging half out of his backpack, flapping behind him.
Increasing his (admittedly aggressive) speed walk to a jog, he skidded around a corner and nearly tripped over the curb, recovering in time to duck inside the school gates.
Checking his phone, he cursed under his breath, slowing to a walk and pausing outside the double doors so he could straighten his jacket and try to comb his hair into something presentable with his hand.
The halls were empty save for a lone custodian, who gifted him the customary look of disapproval. Namjoon didn't falter, just waved a polite hello and continued speed-walking his way down the hall.
Shit, this was the third time this week. He was in for it.
Finally, he spotted a familiar placard on the wall and took a deep, readying, breath before stepping into the doorway.
And there was Hayun, swinging her legs, her expression impatient. On the other side of the wide desk sat the school principal, gaze fixed on her paperwork.
“Hello.” He said, wincing a bit at the way his voice broke the silence of the office.
His daughter’s head snapped up, a grin overtaking over her face as she slid out of her seat.
“Appa!” She threw himself in his direction and Namjoon barely knelt in time to catch her.
"Oof!" He huffed as she squeezed his neck so tightly it was hard to breathe, a smile taking over his face despite himself. “Hi, Hayunnie.”
The principal cleared her throat, standing. “Hayun, would you mind waiting with Secretary Yeom for just a minute while I speak with your father?”
Hayun made a pouty face that only Namjoon could see, but dutifully stepped back.
"Yes, seonsaengnim." She recited. She grabbed her little backpack off the chair and disappeared into the room next door.
Namjoon stood, straightening his shirt and flashing an apologetic smile. The principal did not smile back.
“Mr. Kim, I’ve informed you before that we only provide after school care until three-”
“I know, I apologize. We had an emergency at the store and my coworker showed up late. It won’t happen again.”
It was a promise he couldn't keep and they both knew it.
The principal sighed, uncrossing her arms. “I know that you... aren’t in the best of circumstances at this time, but we cannot continue this. It is against school policy to have students on the premises after three p.m as we don’t have anyone to watch over them. You must arrange a place for Hayun to be after then. There are several programs available nearby-”
“Thank you, I’ll look into it.” He told her. “I apologize again for the inconvenience.”
He didn’t need to look into it; he already had. The programs were too expensive. They couldn’t afford it right now.
The principal nodded after a moment, and picked up a sheet off the side of her desk, handing it over to him. “There’s one other matter... Hayun’s school fees for the term haven’t been paid yet. They’re long overdue.”
Namjoon scrubbed a hand down his face as he caught sight of the numbers. “You’ll have them soon. I just... need to take a couple more shifts.”
The principal’s face was sympathetic but unyielding. “I’ll expect them soon. Find an after school program for your daughter, Mr. Kim.”
His daughter was regaling the secretary with a dramatic retelling of her recess antics when Namjoon walked up. He paused for a moment in the doorway, smiling softly as he watched her reenact the turning point of the game when the slide had turned to "lava." Mrs. Yeom, a middle aged woman whose abundant patience made Namjoon almost certain she had children of her own, was nodding quite seriously at the mostly nonsensical tale.
There was an amused light in her eye as she caught Namjoon's gaze.
He cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Hayun, time to go."
He nodded a thanks to Mrs. Yeom as Hayun said goodbye and slipped her hand in his.
The pair made their way down the hall, the custodian's gaze softening at the sight of Hayun beaming up at him.
"What is that?" She asked, reaching out for the paper in his hands.
"Just some information for me from the principal." He said, cleanly folding it in half and tucking it in his pocket. He winked at her pouty face, swinging their hands between them to distract her. "Nothing interesting, don't worry."
Namjoon was eager to get out of the building before the school could decide to add more fees he couldn't afford. He swore they thought up more every day. He could see the principal jogging after him. "Mr. Kim, wait! I forgot to tell you that you still owe the fees for Hayun breathing the school's air. Yes, good air is expensive now, so we've had to start charging for it."
“Can we go to the park today?”
Namjoon pushed open the door, holding it so Hayun could skip through.
Joking aside, how much longer could he put off the school fees? One month, two? Would they start denying Hayun services like lunch if he failed to pay?
“Appa?”
Namjoon brought himself back to the moment. Hayun was looking up at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes, the ones she had taken to using when she wanted something. Someone at school had tried to teach her 'puppy dog eyes' last week, and while she had the cuteness mastered already, he didn't have the heart to tell her that her wide-eyed expression looked more like an insect.
He stroked his chin, pretending to think hard as they made their way across the schoolyard.
"The park? What park?”
“We were just there last week!” Hayun giggled, well accustomed to this joke.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know the way to any park.” He shrugged, starting for the bus stop at the end of the street. "Guess we’ll just have to go home, because I don’t know the way.”
Hayun dug in her heels to bring him to a halt. “Wait, wait, wait! I know the way! I can take us! We can still go!”
He gasped at her, peering down. “You can show me the way?”
She nodded her head vigorously. “I know the way!”
“Then lead on, oh great explorer!” He called, ignoring the strange looks from a group of older women on the other side of the street, focusing instead on Hayun's giggles.
He let Hayun tug him down the sidewalk, pointing excitedly in the direction of the park.
“How was school? What did you learn today?” Namjoon asked, stumbling a bit at her insistent grip on his sleeve.
Hayun pulled him around a teen walking her dog and he had to hop quickly to avoid getting his feet tangled in the leash.
“We talked about about stars and planets and the sun and then Minju cried because one of the boys said we’d all die if the sun went out and he got in trouble.” His daughter announced, oblivious to the chaos following her. She thankfully began to slow when they came to the first street they had to cross, allowing Namjoon to catch his breath.
“That’s not very nice of him.” Namjoon said, checking carefully for cars before the two began to cross.
“But teacher told us the sun won’t go out for a long time. Was she telling the truth or just saying that to be nice?” Hayun wrinkled her nose, tilting her head to look up at Namjoon. “I don’t think I’d like it very much without the sun.
“Me either." Namjoon admitted. "But we’re safe. There are scientists who watch the sun and they say it’ll be around for billions of years.”
“How much is a billion?”
“It’s one thousand million.”
The girl nodded decisively, looking away again. “A million is a lot. We’re safe.”
She let out an excited shout as the park came into view across the next intersection. Namjoon managed to snag her sleeve before she broke into a run.
“Remember what we talked about, Hayun?”
Hayun peered up at him, nodding very seriously. “Running on a crosswalk can be dangerous because drivers sometimes can’t see you.” She recited.
She studiously looked both ways and kept a walking pace as they crossed, until they finally reached the boundaries of the park. Then she shoved her bag into Namjoon’s hands. “Hold this, please.” She said and broke into a run for the jungle gym.
Namjoon followed at a more sedate pace, hiking the bag up over one shoulder.
He needed to get another part time job. Shit.
He scuffed a hand through his hair. He didn’t have the time for another job. He barely got enough time with Hayun as it was. But there wasn’t really a choice. Now that she was officially in elementary school, expenses were racking up from having to buy uniforms and supplies, and pay school fees.
“Appa, come play with me!” Hayun called impatiently from the top of the playground, where she had commandeered the small plastic wheel. “We’re explorers sailing to find treasure!”
Namjoon shook his head slightly, forcing himself to put his worries away, and grinned at his daughter. He clambered up into the play structure to join her, setting down their bags. At least there were no other parents around to judge him today.
“Where are we headed today, Captain?” He asked, crouching down so he could fit into the tiny “wheelhouse,” a part of the playground with a little pointed roof.
Hayun pointed ahead towards a gleaming silver office building. “To the North Pole to visit the palace of the penguin king! He has another clue for us!”
Namjoon gave her his best salute and leaned over the side of the structure, hoisting up imaginary rigging.
“Full sails ahead!”
“... Love is nothing stronger... than a boy with love... Love is nothing stronger... than a boy with love...”
“Thank you for shopping with us. Please come again soon.” Namjoon said, handing over the woman’s shopping bag and receipt.
The ancient cash register got jammed as usual when he tried to close it. Namjoon thumped the side of it until it finally slid fully shut.
“Kim, someone spilled a bag of flour over here. Come get this cleaned up!” His boss' yell echoed back from further back in the store.
Namjoon didn't lean down to bang his head on the counter, but it was a near thing. He shot a quick glance at the clock next to the register. Just one more hour.
“Of course, sir!” He called, projecting as much energy into his voice as he could (it wasn't much). He ducked under the counter and went to grab the broom from the back.
The sight at the head of the aisle made him stop in his tracks, dismay shooting through him. It looked like a bag of flour had exploded, spilling off the shelf and trailing halfway down the aisle in a great white streak.
“Oh my my my. Oh my my my. You got me high so fast…”
The convenience store, a tiny, perpetually dusty little thing, tucked on the very edge of where the kinda-unsafe part of Seoul turned into decidedly-unsafe, always seemed to be two steps away from closing forever. The “Closing Sale-Everything 50% Off ” sign had been up the entire almost nine months that Namjoon had worked here with no sign of the doors actually closing.
The owner was trying to revamp the place, hence the new countertop, slightly updated sign, and the playlist that repeated the twenty most popular current hits, over and over again on a loop.
It was Namjoon’s own personal hell.
It also meant that he got to listen to his former best friends, who he’d bet were now probably millionaires, sing their top hits day after day, as he sat this dusty store, cleaning up puke from the drunks that always seemed to wander in, and trying to pretend that he couldn’t hear his boss sobbing over old dramas in the back office instead of doing all the paperwork Namjoon knew they were months behind on.
“... Oh my my my. Oh my my my. You got me fly so fast…”
He probably knew the song better than they did at this point, what with hearing it two dozen times every shift.
Namjoon swept the broom harder than he meant to and sent a cloud of flour flying up. He coughed, stumbling back, but not in time to prevent the powder from settling into his red apron. Great. Namjoon squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers and forced himself to take a deep breath. Just another hour. Then he’d be at home with Hayun.
"... Love is nothing stronger, than a boy with, than a boy with love..."
The bell on the door jingled so Namjoon haphazardly swept the rest of the flour up. He missed a few spots but frankly couldn't bring himself to care, given that he'd be coming back with the mop later anyway.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
“Yes, just a moment!” He called.
Namjoon dumped the flour in the trashcan in the back and jogged up to the front, hastily trying to brush the excess off his apron. It smeared in white streaks instead. He fought off a sigh.
Whatever. As long as he got it off with some water before his boss could spot it and yell at him about being presentable- like the man didn’t have food stains all over his shirt every day- then he’d be fine.
There was a man in a black baseball cap and a long tan coat peering down the aisles, checking back and forth with a crumpled list in his hand.
Namjoon hurried up, forcing his expression into a smile. “Sorry for the delay, can I help you find something?”
The customer turned, face scrunched up slightly, mumbling under his breath about picky... maknaes? “I’m looking for a certain brand of ramen-” The man finally looked up at Namjoon and his eyes went wide, voice trailing off into silence.
It took Namjoon a long moment to register the face, slimmer and more sculpted than he remembered, and his mind ground to a halt.
What... what?
“Namjoon-ah?” Hoseok blurted out, staring at him like he’d seen a ghost.
Namjoon's heart was thumping, flushing his limbs with panic.
Hoseok-ah was standing here. In his convenience store. At 11 pm.
“Hoseok...ssi.” He said slowly.
Hoseok blinked at the formality, his expression settling a bit into something more guarded. “It’s been... a long time.”
Five years. Five long years since he'd been called for an emergency meeting with the manager and walked out of that practice room door, unaware that he was walking out of his members' lives forever.
“Congratulations on your recent win.” Namjoon said, offering a small smile. “It was well deserved.”
Hoseok seemed almost to be in shock, but tipped his head in an automatic motion. “Thank you. You... work here?”
Namjoon was aware of Hoseok taking in his scuffed shoes, wrinkled shirt, and haphazard self-trimmed hair. He shifted self-consciously.
“Part time.”
There was a slight lull as Hoseok just stared at him.
“You’re looking for a certain brand of ramen?” Namjoon asked finally, because what else was there to say? He'd made his choice, and he'd come to terms with it. They were different people now, with completely different lives.
The past was the past.
Hoseok blinked, glancing back down at his list. “Uh, yeah. Star Ramen.”
Namjoon nodded, consulting his mental map of the store. “That should be near the end of aisle two, third row from the top.”
Hoseok looked at the haphazard aisles that lacked any sort of numbering or labelling system, despite the many times Namjoon had brought it up with his boss, and took a hesitant step towards a random aisle.
Namjoon took pity on him. “I’ll show you the way.”
Without help, the man would probably have to wander for ten minutes before finding what he needed. Most customers who didn’t ask for assistance did.
He led Hoseok on a winding path through the overpacked shelves to the back corner where the ramen was located. The bulb for the light above the corner was out again, and Namjoon made a half-hearted mental note to replace it. He held back a sigh as they came to a stop in front of the precariously tilting stacks of ramen. They looked ready to collapse at the slightest touch.
“Might want to take them from the top.” He offered apologetically.
Hoseok had to lean in close and squint to read the packaging in the dim light, but finally he selected a few packets and stepped back. To Namjoon’s relief nothing fell. He could see the headlines now: "Convenience store sued after idol receives concussion from badly stacked merchandise."
“Do you need help finding anything else or…?”
Hoseok consulted his list again. “Do you have cough drops and Tylenol?”
The tiny medical section was pretty sparse and they only had one box of Tylenol on the shelf. Hoseok picked it up, looking satisfied, but Namjoon cleared his throat.
“Ah, you might want to check the date. Just to be sure.”
Hoseok flipped the box over and his eyebrows shot into his forehead. “This expired in 2007.”
Namjoon barely managed not to wince. That was pretty impressive, considering this convenience store had first opened in 2012.
“My apologies. We’re currently working on updating inventory. Every so often we find something that was missed.”
Every so often as in every single day. He was beginning to doubt his boss had ever cleaned out the shelves.
Hoseok went to put the pack of medicine back but seemed to think better of it and handed it to Namjoon, who stuffed it in his apron to throw out later.
Namjoon led him over to the next aisle and motioned to their section of mints and cough drops.
“It’s not a very diverse selection. You might want to try the H-Mart two blocks down if you don’t see what you want. They have more options. And non-expired Tylenol.”
Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a bad marketing move? Recommending other stores to me?”
Namjoon just shrugged. He was too tired to argue for this place. It sucked. But it paid relatively well because no one wanted to take a shift at night in this part of town.
He tidied up the gum section while Hoseok looked over the cough drop choices. Eventually Hoseok picked up two different flavors, honey and cherry, looking back and forth between them. He pulled out his phone and texted someone, tapping his fingers on his coat as he waited for a reply.
Overhead, the speakers began to make the little skipping noise that signaled that Namjoon needed to go manually restart the CD player. Pointedly ignoring it, Namjoon instead straightened the same pack of gum for the fifth time.
Eventually, Hoseok pushed his phone back in his pocket. “Why didn’t he clarify the type?” He muttered under his breath, staring between the two choices again.
A car blared its horn somewhere close by.
Namjoon cleared his throat. “Honey.”
Hoseok turned startled eyes to him. "What?"
Namjoon shifted, awkwardly pointing to the bags in Hoseok's hands. “The cough drops are for Jungkook-ssi, right? He prefers honey, or um, he used to. Said the cherry tastes too much like medicine.”
Something raw flit across Hoseok’s face as he stared at him and for a second, Namjoon expected the man to start yelling. But after a moment, the dancer just put down the cherry pack and stepped back.
“I can check you out at the front register.” Namjoon said quietly.
Hoseok’s expensive shoes were soft on the tile behind him as Namjoon led them back to the front. He ducked under the desk and began scanning the items Hoseok placed on the counter.
The ancient CD player was still making the annoying noise so Namjoon leaned over and pressed the play button for the disk to restart. The opening notes of Make it Right began to blast through the speakers and Namjoon immediately wanted to melt through the floor. He ducked his head and focused on the register.
“That’ll be 15000 won. Cash or card?”
When he looked up, Hoseok’s lips were titled up, eyes flickering to the old speakers. “Card.” He handed it over and Namjoon swiped it.
The checkout program lagged, as it always did, circle spinning around and around.
“This your playlist?”
Namjoon heard the underlying question. He shook his head. “It’s a top hits playlist. My coworker made it.”
It came out harsher than he intended and Hoseok seemed to shutter off slightly, taking his card back without another word.
It wasn’t that Namjoon never listened to their music. He’d heard most of their work. Usually late at night, when his self control was low. Their music was good, really good. But it just hurt too much. Rap verse additions always seemed to spring into his mind, extra parts, his parts.
But Hoseok looked so... stiff that he couldn’t leave it like that.
“I would have included Idol.” He blurted out.
Hoseok glanced up from his wallet.
“If I had made the playlist," Namjoon said, a bit stiltingly. "I would have included Idol too. It was very well done."
The elder seemed to weigh his words for a moment before he gave a quiet,"Thank you."
“Would you like a bag and a receipt?”
Hoseok nodded and Namjoon packed up the items. At the last second, he slid something else in, out of the Hoseok's view. Namjoon would pay for it himself later.
“Thank you for shopping with us. Please come again soon.” Namjoon recited, handing the bag over.
The cash register began to screech, a high pitched alarm meant to warn when someone was tampering with it but wasn't installed correctly and tended to go off randomly.
Namjoon hit the side of it until it dwindled to a stop, his gaze wandering to the clock. Little more than half-an-hour now and he could finally go home. Hug his daughter and collapse in bed. Try to forget that this interaction had ever happened.
“Namjoon-ah.”
To his surprise, Hoseok was still standing there, looking strangely conflicted, his hands twisting the handles of the plastic bags.
Namjoon took in a breath, staring at Hoseok in the dim fluorescent lighting.
The man opened his mouth but stopped, shifting on his feet. A moment later he smiled, a strained thing, and straightened up, looking every bit the idol he was.
“I wish you the best, Namjoon-ah.” He said quietly.
Namjoon could only blink at him in surprise.
The bell jingled against glass and Hoseok was gone.
Hoseok closed the door to the dorm behind him, sliding off his shoes.
“Jungkook-ah! I have your medicine.” He called absentmindedly, his brain still running over the last hour.
He’d just seen Namjoon, talked to Namjoon. For the first time in five years. He'd had no idea that Namjoon was even still living in Seoul. He’d never really known if he’d ever see the man again.
And the strangest thing was... Namjoon... wasn’t angry. Hoseok had always imagined him getting fed up and leaving in the middle of the night, going back to underground rap, writing verses about how fake he’d found them all, how much he’d hated it, spitting lines aimed vaguely at them on some dim stage while music pumped in the background.
But he hadn’t seemed angry. Not at all. Not at Hoseok, not at BTS, not at their success without him.
Nothing in that exchange had gone how Hoseok had expected it to. He used to imagine it all the time in those first few months, yelling, ranting, at a startled Namjoon at some awards show or on the sidewalk even. Finally getting to knock the man down a few pegs, demand answers, force him to feel some remorse for the horrible pain he'd caused.
But then Namjoon been there in front of him, a clerk at a convenience store, and it was so unexpected Hoseok had been left reeling. And Namjoon had smiled at Hoseok, and it had been genuine despite the dark circles under his eyes, the exhausted lines of his face.
Seokjin poked his head around the doorway to the kitchen. "You're back, good." He said shortly. "Can you give me a hand?"
His thoughts still swirling, Hoseok crossed through the silent living room and set the bags on the kitchen table. Seokjin was already back at the counter, chopping up carrots and tossing them into a steaming pot. He waved his hand to motion Hoseok over, expression harried.
"I got called in for a meeting with Sejin-nim," He checked his watch and grimaced. "In twenty minutes. Can you just finish this, please? It's soup for Jungkook-ah."
Hoseok shifted from foot to foot. "Ah, I was going to head over to the practice rooms tonight."
The elder chopped another carrot, sliding the pieces off the cutting board into the pot with one smooth motion, and turned to shoot him a look.
"All you have to do is slice one onion and the celery and just be here while it simmers for half an hour."
Hoseok hesitated. "Can't Jimin-ah or Tae-" He ventured.
He didn't miss the frustration that passed over Seokjin's face.
"None of them are here." The elder said evenly.
"Oh."
The silence was painfully awkward, as Hoseok was aware he should offer to help. But he couldn't bring himself to give up his free evening. He really, really, just wanted to shut himself in a practice room and dance all his confusion over seeing Namjoon again away.
"It's fine, I can finish when I get back." Seokjin said finally, but he didn't look at Hoseok. He flicked off the stove, and tossed the knife in the sink with a clatter. His hands were clenched overly tight around the pot as he lifted it off the stove.
"Okay." Hoseok muttered. He tried to ignore the guilt welling in his chest.
A door opened and closed and Jungkook shuffled into the kitchen, wrapped head to toe in a blanket and looking absolutely miserable. His nose was flushed red and the hair visible under his beanie was sweaty.
“Feeling any better?” Hoseok asked, dredging up a smile for the younger boy's sake.
“No.” Jungkook huffed, dropping into a kitchen chair and digging out a tissue from the endless folds of his blanket.
Hoseok patted him on the head sympathetically and handed him the two bags. “Well, your schedule is cleared tomorrow so you’ll have time to sleep. There’s some Tylenol in there for your fever. Where are the others?”
“Tae went out. Yoongi-hyung’s at the studio. I dunno where Jimin-hyung is. Probably the practice rooms.”
Hoseok stilled, frowning. “None of them stayed? You’re sick.”
Jungkook shrugged casually, avoiding his eyes, but Hoseok could see the tension in his shoulders. “They all had things to do. I told them they could go.”
“Doesn’t mean they should have gone.” Seokjin muttered somewhere behind them, shoving something a little harder than necessary into the fridge.
Hoseok winced at the sound.
Seokjin brushed past him, squeezing Jungkook's shoulders once. "I'll be back in an hour or so and then you can have soup, Kookie. Why don't you lie down on the couch?" The two disappeared into the living room, leaving Hoseok standing in the middle of the kitchen floor.
There was rustling from the other room as Jungkook began to unpack the groceries.
“Don’t eat the cough drops like candy!” Hoseok heard Seokjin say firmly. “They have medicine in them. I'll see you later, Kookie." There was pointedly no goodbye for Hoseok.
The dancer let out a breath as he heard the door swing shut, shoulders slumping. Seokjin was angry with him. He didn't feel like dancing anymore.
Jungkook was staring at his hands, a strange expression on his face, when Hoseok joined him in the living room.
“Did I get the right kind?” Hoseok asked, suddenly afraid that Namjoon had lied to him.
“Oh, um, yeah. But... I didn’t think you remembered.” Jungkook held up a puff roll in its bright orange packaging. He gazed at the snack in his hands, looking almost lost. “These always used to make me feel better. Back when I got sick in the early days. I forgot.”
Jungkook pushed to his feet, hesitated for a moment, and wrapped his arms around the dancer.
“Thank you, Hobi-hyung.” Jungkook said quietly.
Hoseok finally remembered to hug the boy back, patting his shoulder. “You’re welcome, Jungkook-ah.”
Jungkook released him and returned to his blanket cocoon on the couch, and Hoseok turned back to the kitchen, mind whirling.
Even Hoseok had forgotten about those rolls. But Namjoon had remembered... even after five years.
Namjoon, who'd gone from being a rapper, an idol, and a producer, to working the night shift in a trashy convenience store.
What in the world had happened?