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Namjoon had the gall to look surprised when Yoongi plopped himself down at their fearless leader’s desk and started unpacking the recently arrived takeout.
Yoongi refused to look up from his task at the throat clearing. “Did I…um…forget an appointment?”
Pushing a pair of chopsticks into Namjoon’s unresisting hand, Yoongi didn’t bother to hide his eye roll. “Nope.“ He pinned Namjoon with a stare. “Do I need one?”
Because if after all these years of dropping in on each other unannounced was suddenly unwelcome, things were even worse than Yoongi had been assuming.
Namjoon at least had the decency to squirm. “No! Of course not…I just…uh…” He glanced down, gaze roving over the various papers scattered across the desk, half-covering two open and active laptops. “I have a lot to do today and I—”
“—need to eat,” Yoongi finished smoothly, gesturing to the closest container of jajangmyeon.
Namjoon blinked, once at the noodles, once at Yoongi. His resigned huff signaled Yoongi’s victory in the first round.
A mostly hollow one, with Namjoon staying silent as he began to gingerly pick at the food, eyes shifting between the screens. Over to a paper. A furtive glance at his phone. Anywhere but at Yoongi.
For the first few days after “the...ahh…Incident”—the Ahh being a crucial part of the name, Jin-hyung had insisted, upon granting the moniker less than a dozen hours after it was over—Namjoon had been understandably busy, fixed on tracking down whoever was behind the set-up.
But over the last few weeks it had become abundantly clear that he was outright avoiding all of them, skipping out on group meals, meetings and even the movie nights Taehyung and Jimin liked to organize—more frequent of late, with Jimin convalescing.
Yoongi had yet to decide if it was out of a misplaced sense of guilt or an even more misplaced notion that distance would protect them. No doubt it was a combination of the two. Plus three or four other vectors Yoongi had overlooked but Namjoon would be factoring in to every decision.
Whatever the cause, Yoongi intended to find a solution. Because this avoidance bullshit was becoming old. And everyone else’s fretting over it was exhausting.
“Namjoon—” The buzz of Yoongi’s phone vibrating in his pocket made him grimace; the content of the text message blinking as he retrieved the phone had him outright cursing. That at least earned him a glance from Namjoon.
“Hyung?”
“Saved by the bell,” Yoongi muttered, shoving back his chair. He’d honestly been expecting this text most of the afternoon and evening. When it’d hit eight, he’d thought he’d been miraculously spared the headache until at least tomorrow.
Namjoon quirked an eyebrow in obvious question. Yoongi sighed. “Hoseok’s requesting help saving Jimin from himself.”
Namjoon’s brow furrowed, his tone suddenly sharp. “What does that mean?” Jimin had been a sensitive topic for Namjoon of late. For all of them. Yoongi took pity.
“Won’t know the details until I get down there, but given I cleared him this afternoon to restart light workouts, he’s no doubt ignored the ‘light’ in favor of driving himself into the ground right out of the gate.”
Namjoon’s eyes went wide. “He’s recovered to that point already?”
Yoongi snorted. “Oh hell no. If I had my way, he’d still be on bed rest.”
“Then why—”
“See, if you’d actually been around him in the last few weeks, you wouldn’t need to ask!” Yoongi snapped back ruthlessly.
Jimin’s restlessness had grown to the point Yoongi knew if he didn’t give his consent, Jimin would have tried sneaking out in the dead of night to run laps around the block or some other similar insanity. At least this way, Yoongi had allies to monitor and report when the idiot started blatantly defying Yoongi’s expert, all-too-experienced medical advice.
Ignoring Namjoon’s further calls for clarification—there was the sliver of hope that Namjoon’s innate curiosity combined with residual worry would be enough to overcome stubborn stupidity and come investigate personally—Yoongi marched out of the office, taking the stairs double-time.
The two flights down to the basement and its seemingly ever-expanding gym—how much different equipment could Jungkookie and the rest really need?—passed without sounds of pursuit from above. Damn.
Yoongi could hear the raised voices even before he exited the stairwell.
“I’m going a grand total of ten steps. I do not need an escort just to refill my water bottle!”
The tension Yoongi had been trying hard to ignore eased slightly. The situation couldn’t be too dire if Jimin had enough strength to project that loudly.
A moment later Jimin stormed around the corner, bottle dangling from one hand, lips twisted into a snarl.
A quip ready on his tongue, Yoongi bit it off as Jimin cleared the line of sight from the gym and it became clear he had yet to clock Yoongi’s presence.
The shift in demeanor was instantaneous, the anger suffusing his features replaced by all-too-obvious pain. Steady-with-only-a-hint-of-strain breaths became suddenly labored and Jimin’s free hand made its way up to press unerringly against the still very much healing wound in his side. The swift stride that had carried him into the hall became wobbly as he staggered to half-crash against the nearest wall.
Yoongi swore, leapt forward. At the sound Jimin’s eyes slammed open again. He was straightening even as his gaze swung around to meet Yoongi’s, wall support forgotten, hand dropping once more oh-so-innocently to his side.
Yoongi had to give him credit, he was able to rein in the heaving gasps enough to manage an almost normal-sounding “H-hyung.”
Resisting the very reasonable urge to cuff him upside the head, Yoongi made the less satisfying choice of catching Jimin under the arm and hauling him the half dozen steps to the nearby bench. “Sit down before you fall down.”
From the way he tensed, Yoongi knew Jimin would have resisted if he’d had the strength to. The way his knees all but gave out as they reached the seat spoke to how much he did not.
Yoongi dropped to the bench as well, letting his hand slide from Jimin's elbow down to his wrist, fingers coming to rest on the thundering pulse he found there. Only to have Jimin attempt to wrench his hand away as soon as he registered the grip.
“Hyung, I’m fi—”
“—if the word ‘fine’ so much as passes your lips, I’m rescinding all privileges, marching you immediately back to bed and handcuffing you there if need be.”
“As if you cou—”
“—And,” Yoongi ignored the interruption. “I guarantee I have more than one willing ally to eagerly assist me in easy shouting distance.”
Jimin froze, eyes narrowed, assessing. Yoongi glared back, confident his just try me was conveyed clearly enough without having to actually articulate it.
Grimacing, Jimin let his head drop back, eyes falling closed, the wrist held immobile beneath Yoongi’s hand going once more limp. Now that he was no longer fighting to conceal it, Jimin’s breathing had gone ragged again, though already noticeably improved now he was off his feet.
With the silent count of the beat beneath Yoongi’s fingertips steady in the back of his mind, movement at the corner of his eye drew Yoongi’s attention.
Jungkook was peering cautiously around the corner, eyes growing wide as they met Yoongi’s. Brow furrowed in concern, he took a determined step forward, only to halt at Yoongi’s firm headshake. Talking to Jimin one on one, Yoongi gave himself decent odds of knocking at least a modicum of sense into his stubborn skull; with an audience? Yoongi had no intention of taking that bet.
Jungkook slowly nodded, took a step back. Only to pause again as Taehyung came up beside him, gaze fixed on Jimin. Yoongi bit back a groan, focused all his frustration into the glare he leveled at the party crashers.
Which had zero effect, judging from how Taehyung’s pace slowed not a fraction...not that Yoongi had been expecting much.
Resigned to strike out two for two with his intervention attempts today, Yoongi found himself pleasantly surprised when the universe gave him a brief respite in the form of one Jung Hoseok. Collaring each dongsaeng as one would a cat, he hauled Taehyung and Jungkook back out of sight.
From the slight snort beside him, the exchange hadn’t escaped Jimin’s notice, for all that his eyes were closed still when Yoongi glanced back.
“Hoseok-hyung or Seokjin-hyung?” Jimin muttered as Yoongi released his wrist—even in the minute he’d been monitoring, Jimin’s pulse had slowed to a mostly acceptable rate.
“Hn?” Yoongi was distracted by mentally weighing the benefits of rechecking the wound directly versus the odds of Jimin attempting to dislocate his fingers as soon as Yoongi reached for his shirt.
“Which one of them sold me out?”
That got Yoongi’s attention. “Jungkookie actually managed to convince Jin-hyung?”
Jungkook had been making increasing noise about dragging Seokjin to their training as Seokjin’s own recovery had progressed smoothly. Yoongi had pronounced his arm healed enough to return to all normal activities only a day before Jimin had pushed for the same.
Because a grazed arm and a gut shot obviously took the exact same amount of time to heal from. In truth Seokjin probably would have been fine days earlier. But from the way Jimin had been chafing almost from the start, Yoongi had delayed.
Observing Jimin’s still too pale complexion, the pain lines bracketing his mouth, Yoongi regretted not stretching it out further.
“So, Hoseok-hyung then.”
Yoongi shrugged. “I can neither confirm nor deny.” At Jimin’s eye roll, Yoongi went on. “You know, he’s just looking out for you. They all are.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not needed. I’m fi…” Giving Yoongi the side-eye, he trailed off, lips twitching. “I’m good.”
“Leaving aside how that’s categorically untrue—don’t glare at me like that. When you came as close as you did to bleeding out under my knife not even three weeks ago—and as a doctor, your doctor—I can and do declare you’re not fine.” Yoongi met Jimin’s glare head on, unflinching. Made sure the point was at least acknowledged before pushing on, “Not yet. You’re going to be. But. Not. Yet.”
Jimin looked away first, gaze boring into the far wall, jaw set stubbornly. Yoongi sighed. “The more important question is, why do you need to be? What’s the rush?”
The silence went on long enough Yoongi began debating his next avenue of approach when Jimin spoke again, so quiet Yoongi barely heard. Soft enough that any potential eavesdroppers staying reluctantly put around the corner wouldn’t be able to make it out.
“They don’t trust me.”
“Bullshit,” Yoongi snapped back, though he matched Jimin’s low volume.
If Jimin’s jaw tensed any further, he was probably going to break a tooth. “I can’t get a drink of water without a chaperone or two trailing in my wake. Meanwhile, Namjoon-hyung won’t even be in the same room with me.”
“We can talk about Namjoon’s guilt-spiral later.” Much later. Preferably after Yoongi had gotten a better handle on it himself. He barreled on before the protest brewing on Jimin’s face fully manifested. “As for the first, if I hadn’t arrived, what are the odds said chaperones would have found you passed out?”
If Jimin was going to insist on being an idiot, who was Yoongi to not shove it in his face?
Jimin grimaced. “I was just catching my breath.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hyung.” Jimin’s tone was less pissed and more just frustrated. “How am I supposed to do my job, how am I supposed to protect anyone, if they look doubtful when I try to lift chopsticks, let alone a fist?”
Yoongi sighed. “Jimin, it’s not doubt, it’s worry.”
Jimin snorted. “Same thing in practice.
“It’s really not.” Yoongi argued. “Jimin, I guarantee there’s not a person in this building who does not have complete faith that if in the next minute a plethora of armed gunmen stormed this building, you’d be front and center attempting to stop them. And stop them you would.”
Jimin looked fractionally mollified at Yoongi’s matter-of-fact tone. Well, at least he was listening; at this point, it was all Yoongi could ask. He went on, “Even if it killed you.” Yoongi wondered if Jimin had any idea of just how not comforting it was to see his casual shrug of dismissal in response. “Jimin, that’s the sticking point.”
“It shouldn’t be.” In the face of Jimin’s genuine frustration, Yoongi had to fight the very real urge to smack him. Jimin’s pragmatic clarification in no way helped. “In our line of work, that’s just a risk of daily life. Always has been. We’ve never let it stop any of us before.”
“Yesss,” Yoongi ground out slowly. “But knowing in theory and experiencing in practice are two very different things.”
“It’s not like we haven’t had close calls before. Even had people shot before. They’ve never been this bad.”
Remembering how protective they’d all been of Namjoon in that aftermath, Jimin no less so than any of the others, Yoongi was tempted to argue. But he wasn’t fully wrong, either; the hovering was on the excessive side this time. But then, so were the circumstances.
“Except it wasn’t a close call,” Yoongi murmured.
Jimin huffed. “Exactly. So why make such a big deal—what?”
Yoongi was pleased his glare alone was enough to halt that line of stupidity right in its tracks. “It wasn’t a close call because it was a reality.” At Jimin’s confusion Yoongi heaved another sigh. “You didn’t almost die. You were dead. For us, for that little while, that was our reality.”
Jimin’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.
“Jimin, they trust you to look after them, they do. Maybe more than ever before. But they need to know you’ll also look after yourself.”
“I can and do.” The frustration was still present in Jimin’s voice, increased if anything.
Yoongi just quirked an eyebrow, eliciting a growl from Jimin. “I managed to fight, escape, swim and summon help. All after being shot. Yes, I believe I can.”
“And the ‘do’ part?”
Jimin frowned. “What?”
“If you had already known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Jungkook and Jin-hyung were fine? That the rest of us were guaranteed safe? That it was only your life on the line…would that have still been the case?”
Jimin’s glare hadn’t dimmed. But he also wasn’t answering. Yoongi pushed on. “We all know what extremes you’ll go to for them. The assurance they need right now is you’ll do the same for yourself. And—barring that—they’re going to do it for you.”
“But it’s not their jobs.”
Without a mirror, sadly Yoongi couldn’t be sure his expression fully conveyed just how thoroughly unimpressed he was by that response. “Right, because if Bangtan never paid you another cent for your services, if Namjoon fired you tomorrow, you’d step aside, wouldn’t raise a finger if someone went after Jungkookie, or Jin-hyung, or Namjoon himself.”
“He wouldn’t fire me.”
Yoongi had no doubt a ‘I wouldn’t be so sure’ would succeed in redirecting the conversation. Yoongi had been thinking more and more that Namjoon might be contemplating just that. If Namjoon had convinced himself that doing so could prevent a repeat of the events of that night. Namjoon had already started taking steps to distance himself from the rest of them; if those steps became more drastic...
It was not, however, a direction Yoongi particularly wanted the conversation to head. Especially with that note of doubt creeping into Jimin’s voice, darkening his expression. Best to steer away. Why face today what you can save for a headache tomorrow?
“Because you wouldn’t let him.” Yoongi chose the less minefield-y but equally true answer for the time being.
Jimin’s tut conveyed the ‘obviously’.
“Because job or no job, you have no intention of letting anything happen to the people you care about.”
Another tut. Yoongi tutted back. “Well, guess what, as inconvenient a truth as it may be, that feeling? It’s reciprocated! And something did happen. So for now, we’re taking a little extra care. Deal. With. It.”
Jimin broke the stare first, heaving a dramatic sigh. “But hyuuuung, do they have to be quite…so…overbearing in the care?”
“I don’t know, do you have to be quite so ‘I’m going to push myself to the point of collapse’ in avoiding it? 'Cause I think there may in fact be a correlation. You continually trying to hide or ignore the pain you’re obviously still in? Little less than reassuring. Shocking, I know.” Yoongi didn’t bother to conceal his smirk at Jimin’s acknowledging grimace.
“So what you’re suggesting is if I actually lean in to all this…babying for a time—”
“And by ‘babying’ you mean reasonable expectations and attentiveness to your recovery, reassuring them that you take your own wellbeing as seriously as they do?”
“Yeah, fine, all that. You believe they’ll eventually get over this ridiculous overprotective streak.”
Yoongi grinned. “Bingo.”
The glare was still strong, but the anger behind it had cooled, replaced by amused exasperation.
“All we ask is you take at least a short break before throwing yourself back in the fray and putting all of us—and by us, I mostly mean me—through the accompanying hassle again. I know it’s a struggle, but just for a brief change of pace, let people help.”
Jimin shrugged but offered no further assurance, just shifted, settling further back against the wall, eyes drifting once more shut. Yoongi opened his mouth to suggest retiring to a more comfortable spot when Jimin beat him to it.
“Jungkookie!” The holler was loud enough to be heard clear across to the gym. Though judging by the speed their maknae appeared from around the corner, the volume hadn’t been needed. “I need your help.
“Jimin-hyung?” Jungkook sounded beyond eager. No wonder—it was one of the first times Yoongi had witnessed Jimin willingly hinting at a possible need for assistance since the Incident. Miracle of miracles, had Jimin actually listened? Yoongi braced for the catch.
“Yoongi-hyung is bullying me. Do something about it.” Jimin lazily waved a hand in his direction. Aaand there it was.
Jungkook’s eyes went perfect-circles wide as he turned to face Yoongi, doubt creeping into his tone. “…hyung?”
To which of them he was addressing the question, Yoongi wasn’t even sure. He answered anyways. “And by that he means I’m advising him to slow down and actually take care of himself.”
The internal conflict fought its way across Jungkook’s face, the urge to finally be able to grant the aid he’d been desperate to provide for days, weeks now, warring with one-hundred-percent agreement with Yoongi’s intended goal.
Taehyung spared him the further mental dilemma as he pushed past the short-circuiting Jungkook. “Ignore him, Kookie. Yoongi-hyung gets to bully Jiminie all he wants.”
“Hey!” Jimin sounded downright scandalized, for all that his lips were twitching as Taehyung arrived by his side.
“It’s out of our hands. Saving your life gets him a free pass. Those are just the rules.”
Jimin stuck his tongue out. But didn’t pull back when Taehyung’s hand landed in his hair, going so far to lean into the touch.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, let his smirk grow. “Oh, are they now?”
Sadly before Yoongi had a chance to further explore this newfound authority, Seokjin came huffing and puffing around the corner. “Oh, so we’re done? Best news I’ve heard all day!” Wiping at the sweat trickling down his face, he heaved himself onto the hall’s other bench.
Jungkook tore his focus from Jimin long enough to pout in Jin’s direction. “What, no, hyung, it hasn’t even been a half hour, we’re just getting started!”
Seokjin's protesting squawk echoed up and down the corridor.
Hoseok, wandering up to join them, winced, but was undeterred as he reached for Seokjin's hand to haul him back to his feet. “He’s right, hyung, we’re not going to get you into fighting shape if we go too easy.”
“Fighting shape?!” Jin spluttered. “You said self-defense.”
“And the best defense is a good offense,” Jungkook recited smugly.
Jin groaned but let himself be brought back to his feet. “So why isn’t Yoongi getting put through this as well? Or Namjoonie?!”
“Oh, suuuuch a good question, hyung,” Jimin all but purred.
The five sets of eyes suddenly trained on him gave Yoongi a sinking feeling. “I’d actually been in the middle of dinner with Namjoon when I got your text, so really, I should be—”
“Excellent. If he was available for that, you should have no problem getting him down here to join us.” Hoseok’s words were full of his usual cheerful optimism, but as his gaze met Yoongi’s, it was impossible to miss the underlying message. He should be here. We need him here. Yoongi couldn’t agree more.
“Bring him…and maybe we can convince Hosekie-hyung to go easier on you.” Jimin’s sweet tone was in direct contradiction to his downright evil grin.
Yoongi sighed. If he was going down, he was definitely taking Namjoon with him.
“Hey,” Seokjin’s protest was at maximum outrage. “Why wasn’t I given that deal? I’ll march right upstairs now and—”
Jungkook shook his head, giving Seokjin a shove towards Hoseok, who began frog-marching their hyung back to the gym. “Too late now, should have thought of that earlier.”
Jimin pushed to his feet as well. Yoongi didn’t miss the slight sway as he got there. Neither did Taehyung or Jungkook, from the way they both stepped closer, supporting hand under each elbow. Jimin rolled his eyes…but for once didn’t shove them off.
A start. But even so, best not to take chances. “Jimin-ah—” Yoongi began.
“Yes, yes, I’ll stick to the peanut gallery. Important duty, after all.”
“Really?” Seokjin called back even as Hoseok continued to pace him. “I’d be more than happy to help with that. I’ve got all the qualifications and—”
The rest of his offer was lost as he turned the corner. Yoongi retrieved his phone from his pocket, waved it at the others. “We’ll be along shortly.”
“We’ll hold you to that, hyung.” Jungkook sounded far too solemn, for all that he was smiling.
Yoongi kept the text succinct. Could really use your help. Locker room.
Heading in, he made his way to first Namjoon’s locker, then his own, confirming a full set of clean workout clothes was present for both. While Namjoon himself usually forgot to clean and restock—his workout schedule almost as irregular as Yoongi’s own—their more regular gymaholics did it for them, ever the optimists.
Yoongi was slipping on his sneakers when he heard hurried footsteps enter.
“What do you need, hyung? Is Jimin—” Namjoon trailed off as the balled-up jersey smacked him in the face.
“Get changed.” Reaching down to finish tying his laces, Yoongi braced for the protests.
“What do you mean…you want…” Namjoon snorted as he put it together. “I don’t have time to play. I need to—”
“What you need to do is start changing. Because believe me, I don’t think any of them are above dragging you out in the suit if they have to.”
“I don’t have time to just fool around.” Namjoon’s voice had gone hard, almost unrecognizable outside of the kind of ‘work’ situations Yoongi took great strides to avoid being involved in whenever possible. “Do you realize—"
And just like that, Yoongi was done.
“Probably not. Do you?” Yoongi cut over him ruthlessly. “Do you realize Jungkook is so shaken, he’s barely letting Jimin out of his sight, and has been pestering Seokjin-hyung non-stop to start fight training so he’s ‘prepared’ for next time. That Seokjin is so rattled in turn he actually agreed. To work out. With all four of the monsters. Are you aware that Taehyung has not-so-subtly started acquiring a worrying amount of firearms because he’s decided if Jimin had one on him, maybe he could have avoided being hurt. So he plans for Jimin to have access at all times.
"A plan he thankfully has yet to spring on Jimin, because we all know how he already reacts to the implication of requiring them. Not that he needs another slight to his pride, seeing as he’s apparently decided none of us trust him any more—and yes, you are very much part of that us—and is driving himself into the ground trying to prove he’s still good enough or some bullshit. And Hoseok meanwhile’s barely sleeping trying to ride herd on all of them while simultaneously trying to hide just how worried he really is. What you need to realize is that you withdrawing from them is not going to solve any of that. Not. A. Damn. Thing.”
Yoongi found himself panting by the end of it. Namjoon’s brow had furrowed so badly you could plant crops in it, jaw clenched and shoulders tense.
His voice was rough, soft enough it was barely more than a whisper when he finally spoke. “And you, hyung?”
“Me?” Yoongi didn’t bother to fight the bitter laugh. “I’m about ready to drug you all, lock in you in a safehouse and throw away the key. Maybe by the time you found your way out, you’d have worked some of this shit out. If not, at least I’d get a few days' peace of mind that none of you were risking life and limb the moment my back’s turned…you think I’m joking?”
Namjoon’s lips were definitely twitching, though he was clearly trying to battle the smile. “No, hyung…just the opposite. But...you realize, the six of us, locked in a small space…”
Yoongi shook his head, sighed. “You’re right, who am I kidding. I’d be stuck patching someone up by the day’s end. Fuck my life.” Turning back around to shove his loafers into the locker, Yoongi gave the door a slam, allowing the satisfying clang to reverberate throughout the empty changing room before turning back.
Miracle of miracles, Namjoon had his shirt mostly unbuttoned, toeing off his shoes as he met Yoongi’s frown. “I’ll be out soon.” He had the decency to sound almost sheepish.
Yoongi nodded, brushed past him. “You’d better be.”
When he got back to the gym entrance, he paused, hanging back enough to avoid drawing attention.
Hoseok and Seokjin were circling each other on one of the center mats, Seokjin’s focus darting between his opponent and the hecklers calling from the sidelines.
One of the other mats had been folded in the corner, providing a make-shift couch upon which Jimin and Taehyung sprawled, the former’s head pillowed in the latter’s lap. Jimin’s eye lids were at half-mast, but he was awake enough to shout out, “Watch your back foot,” just as Seokjin ducked to avoid a jab, nearly tripping.
Jungkook, crouched near Jimin’s feet, leapt forward to demonstrate the suggested stance, only to return to his place a moment later as soon as Seokjin raised his fists again, nodded to begin once more.
Hoseok noticed Yoongi first, eyes meeting briefly. If Yoongi hadn’t been watching for it, he wouldn’t have caught the expression shift, the way his face fell for a second, as he noted Yoongi standing there. Alone.
“Don’t think I don’t see you hovering over there. C’mon in, you’ve got some catching up to do.”
At Hoseok’s call the others all turned. None of them were nearly as good at hiding their disappointment. In the face of it, Yoongi couldn’t help but grin.
“Alright, but a deal’s a deal.” Yoongi jabbed a thumb over his shoulder as Namjoon came around the corner behind him. “Go easy on me.”
The smile that bloomed across Hoseok’s face was the least strained Yoongi had seen in weeks. Jungkook was downright beaming as he sprang up. “Namjoon-hyung, you can work with me. Taehyungie, you’re with Yoongi-hyung.”
“Can’t, have to be Jiminie’s pillow.”
The smack accompanied by a dry, “Somehow I’ll survive,” did nothing to budge him.
“Okay, I’ll sacrifice my leg to pillow-duties and you and Hoseok can focus on Yoongi.“
“C’mon, Jinnie-hyung, you honestly almost had it that last time.”
“Hyung, I think maybe you should take off your glasses so they don’t break—oh. Um.”
“Just because I’m under doctor’s orders doesn’t grant you a lazy pass—"
Sidling over to the far side of the room and an unoccupied mat, Yoongi sunk into a slow stretch. Watched and waited as always for the familiar chaos to eventually, inevitably sort itself out.
The End