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In times where he feels most pressed, Jaebeom finds himself walking.
He paces—head down, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, eventually losing himself in his thoughts. He lets his body go on autopilot, lets his feet take him wherever he feels he needs to go.
Vapor leaves his breath as he huffs frustratedly, the exhaustion getting to him. What with his newest album, there’s just so much to do and so little to accomplish everything. Jaebeom pulls at the neck of his sweater, feeling like it’s trying to choke and suffocate him—even if it’s fitting for the middle of this harsh winter.
He didn’t mean to pile up all of this pressure on himself. Jaebeom just wanted to do good, to be the best he can be.
But right now, he feels like he could crumple up into a little ball and fall onto the ground right now: as if he was a flimsy piece of paper, full of ideas that won’t go anywhere, ready to be tossed out.
Eventually, he finds himself treading through the several inches of snow in downtown Seoul, wandering aimlessly in this park not too far from his old company—or what used to be the most familiar place to him.
And in the highest point of the entire park, he sees a figure in the distance.
It’s 4 AM, and yet there he was: Jinyoung, standing under the limited illumination of the lamppost, half of his face tucked into his jacket as he looks down, dragging his left foot against the snow. He’s dressed warmly, bundled in a black padded coat over a dark turtleneck and some sweatpants. He has on running shoes, his dark hair hidden under a baseball cap, and on his face perches his glasses and a mask.
But even with this nondescript get-up, Jaebeom could recognize him anywhere—Jinyoung is not just anyone, not to him.
It was totally an accident, meeting here in the wee hours of the morning, and Jaebeom is thankful that somehow he was given the person he needed most.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Jaebeom calls as he nears the lamppost, pulling his mask down to his chin. Jinyoung’s head whips up from his haze—his expression is sour at first, what’s visible of his eyes sharpening defensively. But when he recognizes Jaebeom (or his voice at least), the look of daggers softens, changes. And Jinyoung reaches out for him—arms wide and open, warm and welcoming.
He obliges, of course, Jaebeom isn't going to say no to his oldest friend. The hug is neutral at first, just two best friends embracing after a long time. But after a few seconds, Jaebeom lets himself sag into Jinyoung’s touch, tucking himself into the crook of his neck, where his padded jacket is cold on his cheek. Jaebeom’s usually not very touchy-feely, not much of a hugger. But today, for some reason, he realizes just how much he needs this embrace—and it seems Jinyoung noticed as well.
“Hey,” Jinyoung coos, patting his hand gently at Jaebeom’s back, “Are you alright?”
It takes Beom a while to answer.
“I’m okay. Just tired, I think.”
Jinyoung chuckles lightly, continuing to rub his back. Jaebeom untenses, grateful that Jinyoung is letting him stay here like this as long as he needs to.
“And why are you here?” he mumbles back, not lifting his head from where it rests on the younger’s shoulder. Jaebeom goes to wrap his arms around Jinyoung’s torso, patting the small of his back, trying to offer him the same comfort that he was getting.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jinyoung sighs, coming to rest his chin on the top of Beom’s head, nuzzling into his hair. “Just had a lot on my mind and then I went outside to buy some eye-contact solution. And then, I ended up here... sans eye-contact solution.”
Jaebeom hums gently, sagely, empathetically. “How’s your movie going?” he tries.
“It’s doing good, I hope,” Jinyoung explains, starting to sway them back and forth a little. He looks relaxed, his posture untensed. It’s a small comfort. “They’re still filming, but they’re done with all my scenes so I don’t have to be on set anymore. I’m looking into doing more TV projects, but nothing interesting has turned up quite yet.”
Jaebeom hums lightly as he lifts his head from Jinyoung’s shoulder: he knows what it was like for Jinyoung after he finished Legend of the Blue Sea a few years back and then waited for months to get a new project approved by management. It’s a long and painful process, but Jinyoung’s newer agency gives him more free rein to choose what projects he wants to do—and Jaebeom’s glad. It’s the creative freedom that Jinyoung always deserved.
“How are you doing?” Jinyoung asks softly, changing the subject—he already knows Jaebeom has another upcoming album in the works. “How are your projects?”
“Alright, I guess,” Jaebeom mutters, taking Jinyoung by the wrist and leading him to a nearby bench before sitting down. “Management gave me a release date, like a month and a half away. Not much to complain about, but it’s still really scary, releasing stuff on my own.”
But Jinyoung knows him better than that, though.
“A burden shared is a burden halved,” he offers, shoulders shrugged up all the way up to his ears.
Jaebeom laughs quietly. He knows he can let out what’s bothering him—Jinyoung’s a safe space, and always has been.
“When we were all together, it feels easier to put together and release music. The feeling was lighter, like the fear of putting stuff out didn’t suffocate me as much as it does now. Maybe I was comforted by the fact that it was not just my work, and it was something that we were all responsible for together. Something that was ours, something collective.
“But when we went our separate ways into different companies, everything changed. I have never felt so lonely in my life, Jinyoung. It was like I had no one to fall back on even though I knew everyone was just a call away.”
Jaebeom watches Jinyoung as he pauses, who is nodding solemnly while looking at his feet.
“When I made sure everyone was settled in their new companies and were starting to make their own stuff, I realized it was time to go back to work, be Jay B and Def once more. And then, I just… I froze. I was terrified of ever releasing anything.
“I wanted to do my company proud and pay back the faith and investment they put in me. And I had to do right by our fans, even if they keep saying they’d enjoy my music nonetheless. And like, I wanted to be a better me , and I didn’t know how.”
“You put too much pressure on yourself, hyung,” Jinyoung consoles.
Jaebeom lets his silence speak for himself, admitting to exactly what Jinyoung is saying. It grows quiet between them, only the leaves rustling in the freezing breeze.
“I miss everyone,” Jaebeom mumbles finally, pulling at the neck of his sweater again.
“Me too.”
“I miss us.”
Jinyoung exhales. “Me too.”
“It used to be just me and you. Then it was the seven of us. And then...” Jaebeom trails off, and he lets out the heaviest sigh Jinyoung has ever heard come out of his leader.
“And then after everything we’ve been through, it wasn’t really the same anymore. It’s hard… Keeping us together is hard.”
“I know,” Jinyoung murmurs quietly. He’s staring off into the distance, but he takes Jaebeom’s hand and holds it tight. A warm reassurance that he’s there, that he understands.
“I wonder sometimes…” Jaebeom starts, there’s guilt eating at his stomach, like there’s acid corroding him from the inside out. He starts racking through his brain, looking for the right words to phrase the ugly confession about to come out of his lips. “What if we didn’t leave our old company? What if we had stayed, tried to stick it out even more? Our seniors did it, what if it would’ve worked out for us?”
“There’d be all of those restrictions, sure, but at least we’d still be together all the time. It’s like a horrible thought that keeps repeating again and again in my head, like a broken radio announcement, and I just…” Jaebeom breathes before he drops his head on his hands, “I-I feel guilty for thinking it.”
A pregnant pause—Jinyoung lets it simmer as he approaches it the best way he knows how.
“I can’t blame you for thinking that way. You bear the heaviest burden of the group by being our glue, keeping us together—what person wouldn’t look for a way to make their lives and work easier?” he finally says. And when he pauses, Jaebeom starts to feel the weight lifting off his shoulders, little by little. “But honestly, this needed to happen for us.”
“We needed it. We needed to be free, to do our own projects, to be our own people. That’s why we fought tooth and nail for it. Yeah, it came at a cost. We’re not sharing the burden of the stage with anyone, all projects are your ventures and yours alone. We don’t see each other as often as we used to, and it’s hard to gather everyone all together—what with completely different schedules, and different time zones and priorities.”
Jaebeom leans to his right and rests his tired head on Jinyoung’s shoulder again. And Jinyoung lets him, for which Jaebeom is thankful.
“It’s tragic, but there’s beauty in our situation, I think. Because we’re happier. Because even then —even when we’re doing our own separate things, even when we’re going off on our own adventures—we knew that we still belonged together. That’s why we fought so hard.”
“We fought for each other. I think that’s more than enough to keep us together, whatever happens,” Jinyoung says with finality—and Jaebeom knows Jinyoung’s always right.
“Why is it that you always know the right thing to say when I’m all mopey?” Jaebeom mutters, nuzzling his head closer.
Jinyoung chortles, patting at his thigh. “Years of experience.”
Jaebeom lets out one last exhale, finally done fighting the guilt and doubt and fear that’s eating at him. He chooses to make peace with everything he’s scared of, everything he’s worried will go wrong. Because if that does happen, he has comfort and he has solace: he has this place and he has Jinyoung.
“Thank you, Jinyoung,” is all he says. It’s not enough to express how thankful he truly is, but he hopes Jinyoung knows just how much he can’t get out with words.
“Always, hyung.” Jinyoung gives him a simple squeeze on his hand, like that’s that , and Jaebeom hums, the last of his worries escaping through the vapor from his breath.
They sit there together for a long while, on a park bench in the snow, watching the city below them in the wee hours of the morning—before people have to be up and about, before Jaebeom and Jinyoung have to go back to being public figures. A long while passes them by, but Jaebeom wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else but right here, right now.
“I’m planning on releasing more music, hyung. Have some stuff I’m working on.” Jinyoung mentions, pulling Jaebeom out of his reverie before he nods twice.
“It sounds pretty good and I’m pretty happy with what I’ve made so far. But I dunno… Most of what I’ve written doesn't feel like it’s finished. There’s something missing.”
Jaebeom runs his hand through his hair, unsure of the words he already knows he’s going to say.
“Do you…” he trails off, the tentative offer sitting on the tip of his tongue, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Would be nice working together.”
A simple smile tugs on Jinyoung’s lips. It’s an innocent smile—the kind that made his eyes scrunch up into charming wrinkles with a wonderful stretch on his plump lips; the kind of smile Jaebeom liked best on Jinyoung.
“I’d love that.”
Eventually, the sun rises slowly, peeking past the buildings, warming the sky and their faces from the cold winter morning. If they squint from where they stand on the highest point of the park, they can make out the distant mountains where it must still be freezing cold. The sky colors itself soft pinks and oranges, taking its time in bleeding into the blue.
Jinyoung shoves Jaebeom lightly as they walk together, in the slowly fading darkness, back towards the park entrance. The chuckle Jaebeom lets out is ungodly, and Jinyoung could only snort amusedly in response—eyes squinting nicely on the edge, nose scrunched, lips upturned.
Just like they used to.
And everything, Jaebeom realizes as he parts with Jinyoung, was eventual, everything gradual—there was no official start when it came to the seven of them. Like all of a sudden, they had found each other, and then found love and warmth and brotherhood. They had changed each other and together: from fighting one another to fighting for each other.
Eventual, learning that there are some trips they can’t take together, some things they must explore on their own.
Gradual, to come back and find each other here, where they’d be waiting for one another.
Jaebeom’s phone buzzes repeatedly in his pocket as he gets home. He stops in his tracks to fish it out, bending down to pet his cats when he sees all of the notifications coming through.
A smile tugs at his face.
[07:21] Jinyoungie:
Guess who I found wandering in the middle of the night at the park near our old company?
[07:21] Jinyoungie:
Sent a picture.
[07:25] Bam:
WHOAHOHOHO BEOM HYUNG?? WHY ARE YOU OUT SO LATE
[07:26] Mark-hyung:
the question is more how bambam has the energy to type in all caps in the morning
[07:26] Bam:
I HAVE A SCHEDULE
[07:26] Yugyeomie:
It’s morning stop screaming
[07:26] Bam:
????? NO
[07:30] Seunie:
Uri leader and Nyoungie 🥳 PLEASE STAY WARM EVERYONE!!!❤️💪👍😘
[07:32] Youngjae<3:
and here, folks, we have a new edition to our exhibit called “An Excess of Emojis”.
Jaebeom feels a warmth radiating all throughout his chest, and he types back a quick reply.
[07:32] You:
i miss you guys❤️
And when he finally lies back in bed, his cats jumping up onto the mattress and curling up by him, Jaebeom lets his eyelids come to a close, a lightness in his body lulling him to sleep.
No beginning and no end, gradual and eventual, just seven parts of a whole meant to be together.