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When Jimin first got the news, he was inconsolable.
So were they.
On the control deck, looking over a void of space, stars twinkling, laughing at their mortality. A muffled voice, filled with pain and familiarity. Yoongi, voice cracking and wet with tears.
“The rescue team won’t get there in time, even with their fastest ship, they’ll be three days too late.”
Jimin stared, at an expanse of universe, and in it, a bend.
Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk were part of a small exploration team. Meant to do recon of the area, a few light years from a potentially habitable planet. Nothing dangerous, just maps. Just for maps, to spread the reach of scanners. Their small crew wasn’t built to meet this. Neither was their ship.
In front of them, a forming black hole. Some field made it impossible for them to detect and had knocked their engines, all their power.
They were communicating with Yoongi with the emergency comms system, something close to an archaic walkie talkie with the radius turned up by millions.
The ship was dark— no lights, nothing beside the quiet glow of stars, and a ring of light wrapped around the bend to offer a dull grey glow to the whole ship.
“What do you mean? We didn’t go that far, hyung, there’s no way we’re a week away,” Jeongguk’s voice, panicked, gripping hard at the edge of the console.
Jimin wanted to break it. Wanted to break the console, the whole ship. Wanted to scream at the large pane of glass overlooking space, scream at the looming death, the lack of light, and the break of the space around it. Scream at the universe, beg it for mercy.
Then, a hand slipped into his. Taehyung, his forehead pressed against Jimin’s shoulder, grip hard enough to bruise. Jimin held back just as tight.
“Jeonggukie, Jeongguk-ah, everything is broken. I don’t know what you guys drove into, but the backup location system has been fried. Your location is showing up at a new coordinate every second, Namjoon-ah has been going crazy, he’s doing everything and all he can give us is an area. And it's not small,”
Jimin’s eyes flickered to Jeongguk, and there were tears reflecting the broken bits of light coming through the windows.
He looked vacant, empty, staring at the same place Jimin had been a moment ago.
They had two weeks of oxygen and insulation left, but it didn’t matter. The gravity was already tugging them towards the center. They’d be goners in four days. And in two, they’d be too close for any ship to be able to pull them out of the gravitational pull. And in one, even the backup comms would give out.
Yoongi’s crackling voice would be gone, Namjoon’s desolate consoling would be gone, Seokjin’s furious screams that something could be done would be gone, and Hoseok’s weak attempts to cheer them up would be gone.
Jimin felt his shoulders start to shake, and in a moment, there were two pairs of hands on him to hold him as close as they could.
Jimin’s head was in Jeongguk’s neck, Taehyung’s head dipping into the same crook from behind Jimin.
“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi’s voice was nothing more than a weak whisper now.
Jimin’s legs gave out, and he was on the floor, and two more shaking bodies were with him. Jeongguk’s sobs were wracking and loud, and Taehyung’s were silent and full bodied.
That was one and a half days ago.
The comms are out now.
They took turns, Seokjin, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok. They never said it, but Jimin knew it was a goodbye. All three of them knew.
They drafted up letters, passed them off to their shaking hyung’s voices, becoming more and more crackling. Letters to their families, sincere words filled with love to their hyungs, loose wills with no legal holdings.
Taehyung and Jeongguk never got farther than a meter away. There was always a hand in his, a body pressed against his side, front, back.
Meals were sparse, weak, stomachs always sick with the promise of the coming days.
When the comms cut out, the four hyungs were all on the other side, as they had been for hours, talking more than listening, the three youngest now hauntingly quiet. They’d done a good job holding it together, until the audio started to go. The three jumped to attention, shouted and cried their final “I love you”s. There was crackling shouting, Jimin could hear crying, buttons and keys being pressed every which way.
“I’m sorry, maknaes, we love yo— much, you’re— worlds, love you. We love you so—“ The quality was so static that Jimin couldn’t even make out who’s voice it was.
And then it was silent.
There were tears down Jimin’s face as he slumped in his seat. They’d dragged three chairs to sit by the comms, Taehyung in the middle.
Jeongguk was sitting forward, elbows on his knees as he shook with fresh tears. Jimin was fallen limply against his seat with tears, and Taehyung was blank.
He’d been like that for the past day. He wasn’t crying now, and his eyes had lost the wonder Jimin fell in love with. They only got their luster back with tears, in the late hours that all blended together here, when he was sobbing, whispering words of love to Jeongguk and Jimin, holding them as close as he could manage.
Jimin reached over, grabbed Taehyung’s hand, and the only proof he was still mentally here was the way he held until his knuckles turned white. Taehyung’s other hand snaked up to grip at one of Jeongguk's hands, a messy grip of white knuckles and smushed palms.
Now, they’re six hours from being unsaveable.
Jeongguk keeps whispering into Taehyung’s hair, his own crumbling hopes. “Someone will come for us, hyung. There has to be someone who can get to us in time.”
And, oh, what an ugly thing hope is to have in a time like this.
Jimin won’t say it, no one will. But they know they have been given up on.
The hyungs are at a small control center, none of them pilots, and none of them with the power to order a ship after them.
Though, Jimin imagines Seokjin is going through every flight manual he can get his hands on, probably planning on stealing a ship. Imagines Hoseok finding some way to overdrive engines, researching every type of shield.
Realistically, though.
Jimin knows.
There’s no safe way to reach them, not without a specialised ship that doesn’t exist. Not without shields, prevention systems, some sort of distant towing. If any ship gets too close to them, they’d be in the same spot. Power knocked, slowly drifting closer to death.
When the last minute ticks by at the sixth hour, it’s like another wave. Another crash against a rocky shore.
Jeongguk’s hope shatters like a knocked vase, scattered pieces of a life across the floor, flower water sticky like blood.
Jimin crumples against Taehyung and Jeongguk, the three crying again.
The three were at the base of the comms table, not having moved from the control room, from the last place they heard their hyungs’ voices.
“You know they did everything they could,” Jimin’s voice is weak and shaking, face littered with tear trails, splotchy and red with hours of shaking.
Jimin sniffles, eyes drying but no better for it.
Taehyung sits with his back against the comms table, tears trailing his face again. Jimin presses Taehyung’s hair back, brushes it out from his face. Taehyung’s red rimmed eyes watch Jimin’s, Jimin taking a moment to just hold Taehyung's head in his hands. Then, he’s leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to Taehyung’s forehead.
Moving to Jeongguk, Jimin follows the same motions. Brushing back hair, watching a tear streaked face, then kissing Jeongguk’s nose.
“My babies,” Jimin whispers, a hand in each of their hairs now, eyes going between them. A broken smile tugs at Jimin’s lips, “My loves, in this life and the next.” Quiet, so quiet. His words, ringing in a quiet room, quiet space, quiet stars.
Taehyung’s sobs start up again, and Jimin’s eyes start leaking again.
“I love you,” Jeongguk whimpers, an echoing chorus, “I love you, I love you,” And both Taehyung and Jimin kiss his cheeks, hold him between them.
“I miss the hyungs,” Taehyung whispers, thirty-six hours left.
“Me too.” Jeongguk whispers back, hand moving to gently hold Taehyung’s, pulling it to his lips and kissing Taehyung’s palm.
There’s silence for a moment. There’s been a lot of it, of silence, the past few days.
“I’m glad they’re not here,” Taehyung’s voice cracks on the threat of tears, his gaze sinking low. Jimin feels a shaky breath escape himself, the sentiment that they wish none of them were here sinks heavy in the still air. “Me too.” Jimin says, voice is quiet.
They’re still by the comms table, on the ground. A small, unbroken hope. Hanging onto their last connection, none of them daring to suggest leaving. They’d dragged every pillow and blanket on the ship in here, padded every floor with their old mattresses, a quiet wish for comfort in their nest of grief.
“Do you think our parents have gotten the news yet?” Jeongguk’s voice, soft and gravely with old sobs.
Jimin entertains the thought for a moment, feels tears prickle at his eyes and hopes not, and then shrugs feebly. He moves to lay down beside Taehyung, who’s sprawled on the mattressed and blanketed floor in his softest and warmest pajamas.
“It’d be cruel to tell them their sons are stranded, waiting. Counting the seconds until the signal gives out.” Jimin answers, realises that’s exactly what the hyungs are doing right now.
“Yeah,” Jeongguk whispers, head leaning back from where he sat, his back against the console, one knee to his chest, the other tucked underneath himself.
“Will the hyungs be okay?” Taehyung’s voice again, laced with a feeling of dejectedness.
Jeongguk nods almost immediately, “They’re holding onto each other just like we are now.” And with all the tears and shakiness surrounding the past two days, it’s the most assured Jeongguk has sounded since.
Something about it eases all three of their souls, Jimin can see it in the small sag of the two’s shoulders, feels it in his own, like they’d each been holding a heavy worry, finally letting go.
A feather in the wind.
Jimin watches, dim grey light dancing along the edges of their faces. The way the shadows cast across their faces, sharpening their edges and softening their cheeks. The dull blue glow of the stars reflected prettily in their eyes.
Jimin carefully moves to sit himself up further, leans himself over Taehyung, brushes his hair back again. His thumbs massage away the tear trails on Taehyung’s cheeks, feels his own brows curving in painful empathy.
“The hyungs will be okay, they have each other.” Jimin seconds, looking into Taehyung’s eyes as he whispers, “We’ll see them again, someday.” Lets his fingers rest in Taehyung’s hair, and Jimin dips down then, softly pressing his lips to Taehyung’s.
It’s nothing but a gentle press of parted lips, Jimin able to feel the dampness from where the seal of his lips met Taehyung’s.
When Jimin pulls away, Jeongguk is moving in, pressing a matching kiss to Taehyung’s lips.
Jimin feels a dam on Jeongguk’s affection break. He felt it in himself, too— because it felt wrong to ask for, to want, when the end is so close, when there are tears and snot, and no one feels happy, excited. But when everyone’s crying, needs comfort, needs to feel someone, it’s maybe what they should ask for the most.
Then Jeongguk’s moving off Taehyung’s lips to move his hand into Jimin’s hair. He guides him into something less chaste, something more desperate, something more like pleading, begging, that makes tears spring to Jimin’s eyes as he gives and gives and takes.
The kiss is salty with tears, raw with something bordering on fear.
They break away from each other, and Taehyung’s hand balls up in the front of Jeongguk’s sweater, tugging him down to meet in a kiss just as vulnerable.
Jimin lies himself against Taehyung, watching closely until the two are pulling away, resting their foreheads against one another’s, noses pressed together. Jeongguk slinks to the floor, rests his arm across Taehyung’s belly and over Jimin’s waist.
In their last few hours, they all move to lay cuddled close, still against the comms panel, now padded with blankets to lean themselves against, all facing the void.
The stars are all bending, all the light stretching in unnatural ways, the bleak center ready to swallow them.
“We did good, didn’t we?” Jimin asks to no one. Taehyung and Jeongguk’s hands are held over him, the three a mess of tangled limbs, all desperate to be as close as they can manage.
“We managed to come this far, explore space. Visited more planets than I can count on all my fingers. We did good.” Jimin says now, instead of asking, “We lived good. And we found our people, our soulmates.”
“I found my happiness,” Jeongguk whispers into Jimin’s hair, softly meeting Taehyung’s eyes.
“We’ll always have each other, in this life and the next.” Taehyung looks at Jimin as he says it, squeezes Jeongguk’s hand.
A few beats of quiet, that lately they’ve been trying to fill.
“We did good. Even if we end like this, I can't regret the choices I’ve made. They brought me to all of you.” Jeongguk brings Jimin and Taehyung’s hands up to his lips, presses kisses to both of their palms and knuckles.
Jimin hears the hull of the ship groan, the unmistakable sound of metal warping.
The three grip tighter on instinct, each moving to trade kisses, whispers of promises to be kept.
The window cracks, spreads like an infection.
“I love you.” Someone, everyone, says.
Until this life and the next.