Work Text:
Seokjin can’t breathe.
He’s currently hiding in the empty makeup trailer, the lights above his head turned off, leaving the outside spotlights as the only source of visibility.
The other six members are probably changing back into comfortable clothes, having finished their performance of Spring Day for the Butterful Getaway Comeback Special a couple moments ago.
But Seokjin can’t breathe .
In the moment, when they’d been singing, the emotion of the lyrics had struck him - how it tends to do as one of their more emotional songs - but tonight it had hit him like a punch in the stomach.
He’d thought of ARMY, of how terribly much he misses them. Even with the abundance of social media platforms, song releases, and vlives, there’s nothing tangible about those forms of communication. He hasn’t had a real, in-person concert with their fans for two years , hasn’t seen a venue filled with smiling, crying, energetic fans who love the music as much as the seven of them do. Who share in this love for one another like they are their own family. A family that has been struggling during the pandemic, and just want to experience something happy again. And he wants to.
Wants to be able to sing for them, and have fansigns where he can reassure them of their worries, and ask how they’re doing, and hold their hands, and smile at them, and be close to them, and not look at them through fucking screens on a giant empty field, performing on a livestreamed concert.
He takes in a tight breath that comes out of his throat in a sound as if he’s choking on air. He supposes that’s a pretty close guess. He can feel his chest constricting, and he knows this spiral of thoughts isn’t helping his lungs, but he’s just so fucking done. He can’t keep performing for cameras and empty arenas. And he knows it’s starting to get better. Heck, they just released a whole music video about the end of Covid, but that end isn’t immediate. It’s going to take time before they can have fansigns, and concerts with crowds, and travel to other countries to perform.
Fuck, he thinks, the flaring in his chest preventing him from calling out for help at the dilemma he got himself into. No one’s around him, he’d done that purposefully but maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, plus no one knows he’s here in the makeup trailer. He’d stood up from his spot as soon as the cameras had cut, pushing past crew members in a haste to get away .
He lets out an awfully tight breath, his head starting to pound with an oncoming headache, grasping at his chest with one hand, trying to remove the invisible weight from his chest. He'd really messed up, hadn't he?
A tear slips down his cheek, from both the pain of his panic attack, as well as the mental spiral he’d fallen into. He can feel himself slipping, the lack of air too prominent now to ignore.
Phone! Phone! His sluggish brain barely shouts at him and if he was in the right mind, he’d berate himself for not thinking of the device in his pocket before he’d gotten so deep into his attack. The pink-haired singer sluggishly reaches for his back pocket as he breathes raggedly.
Calm down, calm down! He manages to pull his phone out with shaky, numb fingers, somehow getting the thing unlocked and finding Taehyung’s emergency contact button. He hits the call button just as his head starts to spin, not enough oxygen in his body to keep him stable. The phone rings twice before the brunette picks up the call.
“Hyung? Where the hell’d you go? You ran off so fast.” Taehyung says, talking over Seokjin’s heaving breaths. The idol on the other end waits for a response and Seokjin’s fucking frozen, his lungs so tight as if there’s something wrapped around his body and squeezing from the inside out.
“Ngh…” He attempts but it fucking hurts. Help!
“Hyung? Taehyung interrupts. “Are you okay? Where are you?” His voice has a slight tremor, his concern for his hyung overpowering his ability to stay calm.
Seokjin tries again, with not much time left. “H-help...t-t-trailor.”
Taehyung gasps over his end, the muted sound of his feet scuffing against gravel as he hurries to get to the older from his spot by the performance setup. “I’m coming, hyung, hold on, okay?” The brunette keeps the phone in his hand, but lowers his hand as he screams for the other members in a rushed breath. He’d been the only one to stay fully clothed, still in his yellow suit, while the other members changed. He’d been planning on taking some selfies to post on Weverse for ARMY.
“Hyungs! Where are you?” He scans the set for any sign of them, eyes flicking back and forth as his heart pounds in his chest. He spots two of them pop out of the temporary changing stations, both members turning towards his voice with a look of confusion. It’s Namjoon and Jeongguk.
“It’s Jin-hyung! He’s hurt!” Taehyung yells, voice cracking at the volume he’d used, turning in the direction of the makeup trailer across the lot and speeding off in a run, the other two redressed members tailing him in worry and concern for their oldest member. When Taehyung gets to the door of the trailer, he doesn’t hesitate to yank the thing open.
“Jin-hyung??” Taehyung’s eyes find the oldest, where he’s sitting in a corner of the trailer, on the floor. He’s nestled between a huge black bag (full of anything they could possibly need to look good on camera), and one of the black faux-leather chairs they sit in when the crew does their hair and makeup. Seokjin’s hand is currently grasping at the blue tee and white long sleeve shirt the stylists gave him for the recording. He’s sweating through the material, his body sending signals to get it off, I can't breathe, as he tries not to pass out.
“Fuck!” Taehyung scrambles over to him, hands brushing all across the older’s body, his fingertips never lingering too long as he searches for any external injuries. “Shh, it’s alright, hyung, I’m here.”
Seokjin lets out a squashed whimper, the resulting sound coming out as a squeak of panic. It hurts so bad, Tae, he wants to say, but he can’t.
“Breathe, hyung, please, breathe.” Taehyung’s cat-like eyes widen as he surveys his shaken hyung. He’s never had one this bad. He cups the nape of Seokjin’s neck in his palm, pressing his other hand to the older’s chest and rubbing his hand back and forth in an attempt to soothe the pain there. Jeongguk and Namjoon stumble up the trailer steps, panting slightly as they worriedly survey the problem.
“Jinnie…” Namjoon breathes as he makes his way to crouch to the right of Taehyung. His eyes shine with worry in the dark trailer, grabbing the hand that Seokjin was using to tug at his thick shirts, in an attempt to get rid of the weight consuming him. “Is it your clothes, hyung?” Namjoon wonders, always so on top of what Jin-hyung is feeling. He notices the slightest movement of Seokjin’s hand in his, and moves to rid the older of the tight clothing.
“Help me get these off him, Tae-ah.” The two get the shirts over Seokjin’s head without much difficulty, throwing them off to the side of the room. His breathing has improved only a bit, the thought of his members help giving him some small amount of comfort.
“It’s alright, Jinnie, breathe with me okay? In and out.” Namjoon tells his hyung, and Taehyung nods in encouragement, rubbing Seokjin’s covered thigh with soft strokes of his thumb.
“I know it hurts,” Taehyung sympathizes, “but we’ve got you, hyungie.” The two members press kisses to Seokjin’s forehead and hair in their attempts to comfort and calm him, sweat beaded along his pink hairline. “Follow Joonie’s breaths.”
The brunette continues to murmur comforting words to his hyung, changing the pattern and location of his soft hand strokes every few minutes. He moves from Seokjin’s thigh to his wrist, then to his shoulder, and most recently his bare back, letting his fingers trace and rub shapes across Seokjin’s smooth, honey-toned skin. He watches as Namjoon gracefully helps their hyung through his attack, getting the older to a point where he can once again breathe and isn’t seconds from passing out in their arms. Their hyung has grown tired after the stressful event, leaning his head into Taehyung’s neck as his eyes droop.
Seokjin’s exhausted body is trembling, and Jeongguk for the first time since entering the trailer, moves from his spot near the door to come settle alongside Taehyung, who now has both Namjoon and the maknae at his sides. In the commotion, the two older members had forgotten the maknae was even present in the room. The youngest sits with his legs crossed on the floor, space open in the area between them. The other two watch him as he bites his lip, his face a mix of pity and concern for their hyung.
“Um...hyungie?” The maknae’s voice comes out small and hesitant, and Seokjin lifts his heavy head in order to look at his Kookie, eyes bleary.
“Mm?” The oldest hums and Jeongguk gives a shaky smile, before dipping his head down to stare at his lap, fumbling with his fingers as he usually does when all the attention is placed on him during interviews and such.
“Can…” He starts, so quiet. He brings his head up to look at Seokjin, his bottom lip wobbling and eyes filled with tears. God, how he hates this for his- “Hyung, can I hold you?” He whispers, doe-like eyes wide and heart hopeful.
“Yeah, Kook-ah.” Seokjin whispers back, extending a heavy arm out to his maknae and letting Taehyung and Jeongguk carefully manhandle him until he’s sitting in his lap, Jeongguk’s neck and arms replacing the other vocalist’s. The maknae quickly removes one of his extra layers, helping his hyung slip his arms through the loose white tee, without jostling the other too much.
Then, Jeongguk cuddles his pink-haired hyung to his chest, the duo of oldest and youngest making an interesting view for Namjoon and Taehyung who watch the two hold each other close. It reminds them to acknowledge how much they’ve all grown up over the last eight years.
“Love you, hyung.” Jeongguk nuzzles his face into Seokjin’s bare and warm neck, giving soft kisses to the skin of his collarbone and near his ears. He travels up after a few minutes, kissing the man’s temples after running his tattooed fingers through his gelled pink hair, musing it up a bit so it’s not stuck in place later (like his own hair) as a result of products sprayed and rubbed through it. Either way, they’ll both have to shower to get it out.
“Love you too, Kook-ah.” Seokjin mumbles out, attempting to keep his eyes open, while staying comfortably embraced in Jeongguk’s strong but gentle arms. “Love all my boys.” His eyes drift to Namjoon and Taehyung, who hadn’t moved from their spots on the floor as they watched Jeongguk lay his heart bare to them and their oldest hyung once again. Their maknae has always had the biggest heart of them all, made of the purest, goldest sunshine.
“We’ll make it hyung.” Jeongguk whispers, rubbing his hyung’s back soothingly. “I know it.”
Seokjin nods, sending a soft smile of gratitude and love to each of the three young men around him. I’ll make it, he thinks, sitting with his family. He nods. We’ll make it.