Archive of Our Own

"Taehyung-hyung?"

Taehyung went from curled up on the bed, sound asleep, to standing upright and staring at Jungkook in under a second. Jungkook would've been envious—the only way he managed to get his eyes fully open within half an hour of waking up was with ice water. Down his back. Courtesy of Taehyung or Jimin, most often. And even then it took at least fifteen minutes.

He would've been envious, except he had more important things on his mind right now. "Tae—"

"—Where's Jimin?" Taehyung gasped.

Jungkook gaped at him. "That's what I was going to ask you!"

Taehyung's eyes widened in a way that would've been comical in someone else. Someone with a body count in the single digits. "You don't know?"

A tiny and slightly hysterical compartment of Jungkook's brain started trying to parse the emphasis of that phrase—was it more 'You don't know?,' or 'You don't know?' or maybe the don't was the most important part—

Jungkook shook his head hard. "How should I know? We just got here! Seokjin's parking, and I brought up food," and he pointed to the paper bag he'd dropped by the doorway, when he'd walked in and found the bedroom empty except for Taehyung, asleep.

Taehyung was turning a circle, scanning the room. After a week here in the safehouse above the clinic, he knew every nook and cranny as well as Jungkook, and it wasn't like there was much space besides the oversized bed anyway. Taehyung still looked about a second away from ripping the curtains down from the rods to see if Jimin was hiding behind their plaid cotton. "Hoseok-hyung—?"

"He went out with Namjoon-hyung for breakfast," Jungkook said. "So I thought you'd be watching Jimin-hyung." It had been a safe assumption, given how in the last week Taehyung hadn't done much of anything else. He'd only rest when Jimin slept and eat when Jimin ate; hell, he didn't blink more than he had to.

Jungkook couldn't exactly blame Taehyung. The only reason Seokjin had convinced Jungkook himself to leave last night was because Jimin had already fallen asleep, thanks to the pain meds Yoongi was still insisting he take. Still, Jungkook hadn't actually meant to spend the night at his apartment. He'd just forgotten how comfortable his couch was. And the next thing he'd known, Seokjin was shaking him awake, looking sheepish and rumpled, and it was already light outside the window.

Taehyung, now, wasn't looking so much rumpled as completely frazzled; half of his hair was sticking up sideways, and he was in a wrinkled, half-buttoned dress shirt and flannel pajama bottoms—borrowed from Seokjin, judging by the tiny white alpacas dotting them. But the tense set of his shoulders, the intention in every step as he paced around the bed—that was no joke.

Jungkook frowned. "So where did he go?" It wasn't like Jimin could've gone out for a morning walk; he'd only been going to the bathroom on his own for the last couple of days, and even that only with the portable wheelchair Yoongi had grudgingly okayed.

Taehyung's voice was a rumble, soft baritone dropping to bass. His hands were closed into fists at his sides. "If someone took—"

"Who could take him, hyung?" Jungkook said, his own voice rising to a squawk. He swallowed to steady it, to approach this logically, like Namjoon would. "Even if anyone's figured out where we were, which they haven't, Hoseok-hyung and Yoongi-hyung were both in the apartment all night, right outside the door. And you were in here with him—Jimin was with you when you fell asleep, right?"

"I—I think so..." Taehyung's growl was suddenly shaky, thick in his throat.

Meeting Taehyung's wide eyes, Jungkook realized how bloodshot they were. How dark the circles under them had gotten, and his cheeks were more sharply defined. It looked—kind of amazing on him, honestly; any Goth teenager would've gone straight to Youtube to figure out how to emulate that look with makeup, messed-up hair and all.

But also Taehyung's hands were trembling, and he was biting his lip hard enough to leave an indent, and whenever he had fallen asleep last night, Jungkook suspected it was too late, and not for long enough.

"Hey, hyung," he said, more quietly. "It'll be okay—Jimin-hyung's okay." He had to be. "Look, the wheelchair's gone, it's not like kidnappers would've bothered with that. We can call Namjoon-hyung, he might—"

"Call—" Taehyung's eyes widened; then he spun around to dive for the nightstand, where his phone was plugged in.

He blinked at the screen, then sat down hard on the bed, clutching the phone in both hands.

"Taehyung-hyung?" Jungkook asked. Taehyung raised the phone display toward him, to show the text there.

BRB. Don't freak out. Love you. 🥣💖💖

"Oh," Jungkook said. "Well...that's good?"

Taehyung tried calling Jimin, and then again when it went to voicemail. The third time he ended the call, but kept staring down at his phone, at the open texts. "When's right?"

"Right?"

"Be right back," Taehyung said. "That was an hour ago, isn't that right enough?"

"More like forty minutes," Jungkook said, looking at the timestamp. Then frowned and took out his own phone. "Hmm."

"What?"

"That's right when Hoseok-hyung texted me," Jungkook said. He opened the message:

We're going out for something to eat, be back in a bit.

It had been sent within a minute of Jimin's text. "Maybe Jimin-hyung went with them?"

"A bit?!" Taehyung said, despairingly. "Where'd they go? Why aren't they back?"

"I don't know," Jungkook said. With Taehyung very definitely freaking out, it felt like it was up to him to listen to Jimin's request and not do so. "There's a line at the cafe or something?" He called Hoseok, but it went to voicemail. Not unusual; Hoseok usually turned off the ringer when he was driving.

Jungkook tried Namjoon next, to the same result. That was less typical, at least not early in the day before Namjoon's phones could run out of battery—though in the last week it was becoming more common. Which maybe just was due to the crazy hours Namjoon had been keeping. Jungkook wasn't sure; he hadn't seen much of Namjoon lately. While the rest of them had mostly been hiding out in this apartment and keeping an eye on Jimin, Namjoon had been extra busy. Along with managing the usual chaos of the Bangtan gang's many operations, he was also trying to track down who the Seungs had been working for, and identify who in the gang had betrayed them.

When, a few days ago, Jungkook had offered to help him, Namjoon had sharply reminded him who had been the original target, and what kind of danger he could still be in. Namjoon hadn't actually mentioned Jimin, but he'd...paused. Long enough for Jungkook to insert the reminder himself, of how Jimin wasn't going to be watching his back for some time yet, and why that was. And Namjoon had nodded and turned away, and that was that. Jungkook hadn't asked him again. Or talked to him at all; he hadn't seen Namjoon at the safehouse apartment since.

But if there wasn't a way for Jungkook to help out there, he at least could be here, making sure Jimin's recovery was as easy as possible, on hand to get him whatever he needed. At least Jungkook could if Jimin himself was here...

"Maybe we should—" Jungkook started to say, when Taehyung's phone briefly buzzed in his hand, and then again.

Taehyung looked down at it, pursed his lips in a pout, and Jungkook craned his neck to see the messages:

I told you not to freak out!

Tell Kookie to stop bugging the hyungs.

Jungkook stuffed his phone back in his pocket. "See—see, they're together. They're probably coming back soon," he said, trying for a calm voice. Reasonable and mature, like Hoseok making a point. "It's not like they'd have gone out to a gourmet restaurant for breakfast—not without Jin-hyung! ...Though they could've waited for us, we could've all gone out together, since Jimin can now—"

"Who can do what now?" said Yoongi from the doorway, one hand hiking up the too-large sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his eyes even more heavily lidded than usual.

"Jimin-hyung—he's out with Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung," Jungkook said. Still calmly, over the tapping of Taehyung typing frantically on his phone. "Getting breakfast or whatever."

"He's..." Yoongi blinked at Jungkook, then squinted at Taehyung behind him, and at the empty bed, and his eyes widened as his jaw clenched. "Oh, that little—those complete—"

"I mean, it's great that Jimin-hyung's doing well enough to go out," Jungkook said, "even if—"

"He is most definitely not," Yoongi said.

Taehyung jerked his head up from his phone. "He's—?"

"So you didn't clear Jimin-hyung to go out to eat?"

"I haven't cleared him for stairs! —Where are you going?"

Taehyung pushed past Yoongi without looking at him, black gaze locked onto a target far past the walls of the apartment. "To find Jimin."

"How? We don't know where they went to eat!" Jungkook frowned. "Did you put a tracker on his new phone?"

"Oh, good idea," Taehyung mumbled, "I'll do that for next time."

"But if you don't know where—"

"Someone knows where he is," Taehyung said, over his shoulder without glancing back. "Someone will tell me."

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, who stared back and shook his head slightly. "Taehyung-hyung!" Jungkook shouted, pelting down the hall after him. "We're supposed to be keeping a low profile here—that means no shooting anybody—!"

The apartment door was already open, with Seokjin maneuvering through it. Taehyung shoved past Seokjin, who squawked and flailed, with his arm still in the sling and his other hand holding an oversized cup of coffee. Jungkook caught his waist in passing, steadied him and the sloshing cup. "Where's he going?" Seokjin asked, craning his neck to watch Taehyung charging down the stairs.

"To look for Jimin—"

"Won't have to go far," Seokjin said, "they just got back." Jungkook stopped to stare at him, and Seokjin's eyebrows went up. "What? They brought the good coffee," and he saluted with the cup.

"Oh, those...!" Yoongi, muttering expletives under his breath that even Seokjin probably wasn't old enough to hear, pushed between them to storm down the stairs after Taehyung.

"I think he got enough for you, too...?" Seokjin called after him. Leaving his oldest hyung perplexedly sipping his coffee, Jungkook ran down after the others. He shot out of the door, and nearly rammed into Taehyung, standing on the bottom step of the concrete stoop.

In front of him, pulled right up to the curb, was the old beater Hoseok had been driving in the last week to avoid drawing attention. The front passenger door was open, and Jimin was in the seat, legs swung out of the car but not yet standing. Looking up at Taehyung with a weird expression, a small, pinched smile.

"I told you," Jimin said, "not to freak out." The words might be teasing but his voice was measured, tight and flat, and Jungkook recognized his expression then. It wasn't like he'd never seen Jimin angry. Just not usually at Taehyung—not like this, not this polite, chilly, formal fury.

Usually Jimin yelled when Taehyung pissed him off, and Taehyung would yell back and eventually one of them would start crying and then the other one would too. But Jimin wasn't raising his voice now, or tearing up, and Taehyung just stood there, rooted in place, staring at him.

Hoseok and Namjoon were standing there, too, on the curb next to the car, Namjoon holding a cardboard drink holder with more coffee cups, and Hoseok with the portable wheelchair unfolded. Neither of them said anything, as Jimin glowered up at Taehyung.

"I," Taehyung said after a moment, "we...we didn't know where you'd gone."

"You knew I'd be back soon," Jimin said. "Like I told you." He rubbed his eye, pushing in his fingers like he was trying to scrape a headache out of his skull by force. "I didn't think you'd be up yet."

"Jungkook woke me."

"Did he." Jungkook winced as Jimin glanced to where he was standing on the step above Taehyung on the stoop.

"I didn't realize you were gone, until he came in," Taehyung said. Not accusing—low, like a confession. Guilty. "You weren't there, and I didn't even know."

"You didn't need to know," Jimin said. "I'm a grown man, I can go out for an hour without asking permission!"

"You're right." Jungkook jumped; he hadn't actually realized Yoongi was standing behind him on the porch, not until the doctor spoke. "You're an adult; you don't need anyone's permission to go anywhere. Or your doctor's recommendation."

Jimin did flinch at that. "Yoongi-hyung..."

"Oh, don't 'hyung' me," Yoongi said folding his arms. "It's not like you respect anything I say to you."

Jimin ducked his head. Hoseok put a hand on his shoulder, looked up at Yoongi. "Hyung—"

"Don't you even start!" Yoongi snapped. "You and Namjoon dragged my patient out of bed and down a flight of stairs and driving in a car, for what? Overpriced coffee? He shouldn't even be having caffeine yet! Though I guess that doesn't matter anyway, if you're going to get him killed before noon! What were you thinking?"

Namjoon and Hoseok both blanched. They looked at each other over Jimin's head, then down at Jimin, and Namjoon said, hesitantly, "Jimin told us you'd cleared him to go out?"

Yoongi scowled. "And you believed him? In case you forgot, he was shot in the abdomen! A week ago!"

"You said I might be ready to eat with everyone today," Jimin muttered. "With the wheelchair."

"Might eat at the kitchen table! That is two doors down from the bedroom! With no stairs!"

"I carried him down the stairs," Namjoon mumbled.

"Yoongi-hyung," Hoseok said, smiling placatingly up at the doctor, "we just thought Jimin might need—"

"—It wasn't what you thought," Jimin cut him off, lifting his chin defiantly, "I told you—"

"—But why?" Taehyung burst out. "If Yoongi-hyung didn't say you were ready—"

"Hyungs," Jungkook said.

"Jimin said he was up for it." Namjoon's deeper voice carried over all of them, as he met and matched Yoongi's glare. "He was doing fine—"

"Carrying him still puts a hell of a strain on the wound," Yoongi snarled back. "And you'd have known how well he's really doing if you'd bother to come by when anyone's awake, instead of sneaking in at 3 AM like—"

"Hyungs!" Jungkook said, and winced at the pitch his voice shot up to at his attempt to project. But the others all paused to look at him, at least. Squaring his shoulders, Jungkook pointed a thumb back at the door behind him. "Maybe we should go inside? Since it's the middle of the morning and anyone could drive by and see us out here."

They all glowered at him. But then Hoseok nodded and grinned, broad and with effort. "Good point, Kook-ah." He turned to Jimin, offered his arm.

When Jimin was sitting in the car, he looked all right, just a little tired. But just standing up from the seat was almost too much for him, Jungkook could tell from the set of his shoulders, his clenched jaw. For all that Jimin wa smiling, pretending like he was okay—straightening up, even, when Taehyung reached out toward him. Though Jimin needed to lean on Hoseok to manage it, he lifted his chin like he was ready to walk right past the wheelchair and Taehyung and go up the steps himself.

He might've even tried to, except that Yoongi flung himself down those steps, growling, "Oh, hell no!" He grabbed onto Jimin's other arm and sat him down in the wheelchair—easily, and Jimin looked almost surprised, and then betrayed, by how his legs folded under him. Muttering dire imprecations, Yoongi took his pulse, put a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

The rest of them just watched—not arguing anymore, but it wasn't much better, the way none of Jungkook's hyungs seemed comfortable looking anyone else in the eye. Except for Taehyung, whose focus was locked on Jimin, same as for the last week.

But Jimin wasn't looking back at him, his head ducked down and turned away, from them, or at least from Yoongi's ministrations.

Jungkook was trying to figure out what to say—trying to figure out what even was wrong, when they all were here, and Jimin seemed okay, all things considered—when the clinic door opened behind him, and Seokjin poked his head out. "Are you guys coming up already? Kookie and I brought donuts. Besides, I thought we were trying to keep a low profile."

They all looked at him. Seokjin blinked back. "Or not...?"

"Of course, you're right, Jin-hyung," Jimin said, with a mostly convincing smile. Though whatever move he started to make, whether to stand or just roll the wheelchair, was barred by Yoongi's arm.

Jimin, still smiling fixedly, stared up at him. Yoongi stared back, unblinking, and said "Jungkook-ah?"

"Yeah, hyung?"

"You can carry Jimin upstairs. Carefully."

"Yes, hyung!" Jungkook came down the steps—glancing at Taehyung in passing, standing frozen at the bottom of the stoop. But Taehyung didn't make any argument, to Jungkook or Yoongi or any of them.

Jimin, on the other hand, looked like he was going to, until Yoongi muttered something to him that made Jimin close his mouth, press his lips back into that fixed smile and put his arm around Jungkook's shoulders when Jungkook bent down.

Jungkook was used to Jimin jumping on his back or into his arms on a whim; he wasn't so heavy, for all the trim muscle of his frame. He didn't actually feel that much lighter now, but it was still different somehow. Maybe it was how Jungkook could feel Jimin trembling, a quiver through his muscles every time he had to inhale. There was a fine sweat beading on his brow, lines bracketing his mouth that weren't a part of his smile. So that Jungkook took extra care not to jar him, like he was holding some precious, fragile ceramic, as he carried him up the stoop.

Taehyung turned on his heels as they passed to silently trail behind, and Yoongi followed him.

Seokjin held the door open for Jungkook and his delicate cargo, smiling a little tensely. "Don't suppose I should make a joke about getting carried over the threshold here, should I," he said in a stage whisper.

"No," Jimin shot back, "you definitely shouldn't." But the lines around his mouth rearranged themselves a little, so there was more humor in the set of his lips than there had been.

Jungkook carried him up the stairs carefully, and tried to ignore how Jimin gripped his arm, tightening with every footfall on the steps. Once in the apartment, Jimin let go to tap Jungkook's arm, said, "You can put me down—in the wheelchair," with a grudging glance at where Taehyung was helping Hoseok set it on the floor.

Before Jungkook could do so, though, Yoongi coughed sharply and pointed at the bedroom.

"But, hyung," Jimin began, "you said—"

"The wheelchair," Yoongi said, "is a privilege for patients who actually listen to their doctor."

"Don't you mean jailer?" Jimin muttered under his breath, but he twitched when Yoongi leveled a look at him—not even a glare, calmer than that. Sad—or even more, tired, and not in Yoongi's usual sleepy-eyed way, but letting his shoulders fall, to show the exhaustion that the coffee they'd brought couldn't touch. Jungkook knew that the doctor hadn't been sleeping much more than Taehyung, this past week.

Jimin's shoulders fell, too, looking at him. "Sorry, hyung," he murmured, not any louder, but kinder. More like himself. He poked Jungkook's arm. "You heard him—to the bedroom, noble steed."

So Jungkook brought Jimin to the bedroom, carefully put him back down on the wide bed. Yoongi had a point, the way Jimin was still trembling, and his lips were pulled tight enough to be blanched of color. He exhaled, long and shaky, when he settled back against the pillows Taehyung had been carefully arranging to prop him up at an angle that didn't pull at his stitches.

Though he glowered down at the mattress, plucked at the bedding. It was clean; Jungkook had washed and changed the sheets yesterday. But Jimin still wrinkled his nose. "Home sweet home," he muttered.

"I'm not your jailer, hyung," Jungkook said lowly. "If you wanted to go out—you could've asked me; I'd have carried you down myself. Even if Yoongi-hyung didn't want me to."

Jimin exhaled, a long whooshing sigh. "I know—I'm not mad at you, Kook-ah."

"Then who are you mad at? Because Yoongi-hyung just wants you to get better—"

"I know—"

"—And Jin-hyung just does whatever Yoongi-hyung says, or what I say, or what Namjoon-hyung says—

"—Hey!" came an indignant squawk from outside the bedroom door.

—and Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung were the ones you went out with, so you aren't mad at them—"

"Me," Taehyung said. He was standing in the bedroom doorway, looking in Jimin's direction, if not quite at him. As if the magnet that had kept his gaze fixed on Jimin this past week had reversed polarity, and now it was repelled, even as he tried to slide his eyes over. "You're mad at me."

Jimin's gaze, on the other hand, was targeted, shooting past Jungkook like a laser beam. Jungkook saw the moment his eyes locked onto Taehyung, saw Jimin's face wrench with a pain different than the physical injury he'd been trying to hide. Then Jimin pushed back that hurt too, his lips twisting into a kind of smile. "I told you, Tae, I just need a little space."

"You can have space." Taehyung's voice was as low as ever but stretched thin, desperate. "All the space—as soon as you're healed—"

"I'm healed now. Enough."

"But Yoongi-hyung said—"

"Yoongi-hyung," Jimin said, sitting up on the bed to make a bigger show of crossing his arms, "didn't tell you to follow me into the bathroom!"

"I let you go on your own yesterday," Taehyung protested.

"Only if I left the door open."

"But if you slipped..."

"And I left you a text this morning," Jimin said. "So you didn't have to panic just because your eyes were off me for five minutes."

"Forty-five minutes," Taehyung mumbled. Though really his eyes still weren't on Jimin yet, gaze dropped to the floor. His shoulders were curled in, making him look small.

"Forty-five minutes that I was with Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung—so you don't trust them, any more than me?"

"It's not like that, Jimin-hyung," Jungkook said. "Just, you could've gone out with all of us..."

"You weren't even here yet when Hoseok and I left," Jimin said.

"But Taehyung-hyung was."

"He was asleep," Jimin said.

"You could've woken me," Taehyung said, but softly, to the floor.

"Yeah, I could've," Jimin said, glaring at Taehyung's dropped head. "Except I didn't know I needed your permission to breathe. Yoongi-hyung's my doctor; he can tell me what to do. But you're not my doctor, and you're not my hyung. If I wanted to go out with our friends, who I've barely had a chance to see—or would you stop me from talking to them, too, along with everything else I'm not allowed to do?"

"No," Taehyung said, his head coming up sharply. His eyes were wide, looking all the larger for the dark swathes under them. "No, I wouldn't—I told Hoseok-hyung, when he asked me, I told him to tell you—"

"—Tell him what?" Jungkook asked.

Jimin glanced at him, his brow furrowed—not angry or confused, but thinking hard. Not as swept up in his temper as he seemed. After a moment he shook his head, said more calmly, "Never mind—"

"They talked to you," Taehyung said, glancing at Jimin, if only sidelong. "Hoseok-hyung, and Namjoon-hyung—you went out to talk to them—"

"—That wasn't why," Jimin said. The words rasped in his throat. "We didn't go through the trouble of dragging Namjoon-hyung out of his office just to chat about you. Not everything I do is about you, you know. We're our own people, we've got our own lives."

"I," Taehyung said, soft and desperate, "I know that—"

"Then act like it!" Jimin cried. It strained his stitches, by how his breath caught; but he didn't lower his voice or sit back—leaned forward instead, with one arm pressed over his belly, and his eyes on Taehyung glittering with fury. "Go—go sleep in your own bed for once; go eat something without forcing half of it on me. Go out for coffee or a drink or to beat someone up. It doesn't matter—even if you're gone, I'll still be stuck here; Yoongi-hyung's not going to let me go anywhere. And since you don't have any magic remedy or secret medicine that can heal me up faster, there's nothing you can do for me anyway. So you might as well just—"

"—Go," Taehyung said. Still low, but not like before, not pleading. When Jungkook looked back at him, Taehyung's face had changed. Smoothed over, like after a wave has washed away writing in the sand. So his eyes were still wide and dark and sunken in his too-wan face; but his brow was straightened out and his mouth too, relaxed into delicate, sculpted lines. "All right," Taehyung said, quiet, though clearly heard, when there was no other sound in the room. "Then—I'll go," and he turned and left, not dramatically, just walking out the bedroom door, and shutting it carefully behind him.

Only after the latch clicked did Jimin let go the breath he'd been holding in a choked gasp.

"Hyung," Jungkook said, bursting out of his own throat harsh enough to hurt, "you shouldn't have—hyung?"

Jimin had hunched over, his hands grasping at the blankets, gathering the cloth tight in his fists as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I'll get Yoongi-hyung," Jungkook began.

"Don't." Jimin shook his head, then raised it to meet Jungkook's eyes. The effort that took was obvious in the trembling of his shoulders, lips set so tight they went gray at the corners. But he smiled at Jungkook, even with those tight gray lips. "I'm just tired. Need to rest."

It was a marked difference from the past couple of mornings, when he'd been insisting he was okay, that he'd been resting more than enough, even when he was wan and shaky and bleary-eyed from Yoongi's prescriptions. His eyes were clearer now, harder, until he shut them.

"Hyung," Jungkook said, watching Jimin lean carefully back into the pillows.

"What?"

"Um..." Jungkook's wandering gaze fell on the paper bag, still on the floor by the door where he'd dropped it. An hour ago, or less, and yet the panic he'd felt so sharply when he saw the empty bed felt days away now, years, replaced by a different sort of dread. "Uh, do you want a donut?"

"No thanks," Jimin mumbled, not opening his eyes. "Ate when we were out." His breaths, loud and a little rattly in his lungs, had already started to slow and deepen.

Rest could be what he needed most now after all. To heal and mend everything. "Sure," Jungkook said. He picked up the bag and let himself out, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him.

After this morning, it maybe wasn't surprising that Jungkook found himself tensing up as he entered the bedroom hours later. Of course someone had been right outside the door all afternoon. Still, there was a window in the bedroom...but Jimin was right where Jungkook had left him, asleep in the middle of the the wide bed, propped up on the pillows with his head uncomfortably bent to the side. He looked up at the sound of the door, then let his heavy eyelids fall shut again upon seeing Jungkook.

"You slept through lunch, it's almost dinnertime," Jungkook said. "I, um, brought the wheelchair?"

Jimin cracked open his eyes again. "Yoongi let you?"

"He's the one cooking tonight," Jungkook said. "So he's in the kitchen now, not watching the bedroom."

Jimin snorted softly. He glanced from Jungkook to the ajar door behind him. "Are Namjoon and Hoseok here?"

"Uh, no," Jungkook said. "They left this morning after dropping you off, haven't been back."

Jimin sighed. "I asked Joonie-hyung...we're going to have to do something about that."

"Yeah," Jungkook said. "Well, at least Hoseok-hyung's with him now. But Jin-hyung is here, and..."

He paused, and Jimin shot him a look, sidelong and hesitant. Like he wanted to ask, like he was going to, and Jungkook waited.

Instead Jimin yawned, settling back against the pillows as he said, "To be honest, I'm not that hungry anyway."

Jungkook stood at the end of the bed, frowning as he studied Jimin's face. The lines of pain tight around his mouth had become too familiar, and the bruised puffiness of his closed eyes. Still, he looked strange. The daylight through the half-drawn curtains fell weirdly on his face, made him too pale, faded and insubstantial. Not enough of him to cast a proper shadow next to him on the bed. The dyed color of his hair seemed dingier, without the contrast of Taehyung's black beside him.

"Then I'll...bring you dinner when it's ready?" Jungkook said finally.

"Sure," Jimin said, not opening his eyes as Jungkook saw himself out again.

He left the wheelchair over by the bed. Yoongi probably wouldn't approve, but maybe it would be more motivation.

Yoongi didn't approve. But by his nightly checkup, Jimin hadn't touched the wheelchair. He hadn't really touched the dinner Jungkook had brought him, either.

"You're the one who thought I needed more rest," Jimin said. "I'm just following my doctor's orders."

Said doctor's answering glare was anything but impressed. Jungkook shied from it, even as Jimin just stared steadily back. "You can rest all you want," Yoongi said, "after you've eaten."

Jimin glanced at the bowl on the nightstand. "I ate." He held out his hand, palm up.

Yoongi didn't relinquish the pills he was holding, crossed his arms instead. "Eat more than two bites," he clarified. "You know you'll get sick if you take the meds on an empty stomach."

Jimin rolled his eyes. "I'm not hungry now. I'll eat later."

"It's already past nine," Yoongi said. "You gonna have cold rice and congealed meat for a midnight snack? Or are we expected to go heat it up for you? Did you forget, you've chased away your most dedicated nursemaid. And I didn't rack up all that debt in medical school to wait hand and foot on some brat too immature to take care of himself."

Jungkook winced. Jimin didn't, chin raised and eyes flashing black, brighter than they'd been for days. His lip curled up to bare his teeth, a look Jungkook knew too well from the start of so many brawls. Dangerous, for all he was still bed-bound and bandaged. "What else will you do with that medical degree anyway, when you couldn't even keep your license?"

There was a moment that time seemed to stop, the air frozen solid, impossible to breathe. Yoongi didn't move, and Jimin didn't either, and Jungkook couldn't. Didn't know which of their faces to look at, scared either way of what he might see.

Then Jimin's breath hitched, and he said, small and halting, "Hyung, I—"

Yoongi breathed out hard between his teeth. "Just eat your goddamn dinner. You're an asshole when you're hungry, Park Jimin."

"As if I'm not usually?" Jimin muttered. His lips twisted like he was trying to smile, but he wasn't managing it, quite.

'You're not," Yoongi said, and then, sharp and precise as any scalpel he wielded, "Not to me, anyway."

Jimin twitched, gaze dropping to his knees, so he didn't see how Yoongi's face softened, concern overtaking frustration. "Here," Yoongi sighed, picking up the bowl. "Should hyung go warm this up for you?"

"I can do it," Jungkook volunteered, taking the bowl, and the chance to escape the room. Even if it meant he had to brave the microwave.

When he came back, dishtowel wrapped around the heated ceramic, Yoongi was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Jimin was meeting his eyes again, at least. He took the bowl from Jungkook and managed to get down half the serving before he set it aside.

Yoongi didn't look entirely satisfied, but he handed over the pills. His frown deepened when Jimin swallowed the antibiotic but passed the others back. "I'm okay," Jimin told the doctor. "You said I should start cutting back on the heavy-duty stuff anyway. And you were right, it's less sore if I'm taking it easy."

When Yoongi didn't reply, Jimin glanced at him, up through his lashes and cheeks curving with a smile. "That's your cue to say 'Told you so,' hyung."

"I'm saving the gloating for when you're well enough to appreciate it. Along with the chewing out." With another sigh, Yoongi took the bowl back to the kitchen.

Jungkook helped Jimin to the bathroom, pushing him in the wheelchair. Jimin didn't say anything until Jungkook was helping him back into the bed. "So are you saving up the chewing-out, too?" Trying for a teasing smile and almost pulling it off.

Jungkook shook his head. "I dunno." At Jimin's questioning tilt of the head, Jungkook said, "I don't know if I'm mad at you. Or if I'm even supposed to be mad at you. You said you weren't mad at me..."

"I'm not, Kookie."

"But why aren't you? When I'm in here and bringing you food and helping you around, same as Taehyung."

He was watching close enough to see Jimin's jaw clench at Taehyung's name. But Jimin just said, "You're not as bad. At least you went to sleep in your own bed last night."

Jungkook opted not to mention he'd actually crashed on his apartment's couch. But thinking of his bed sparked a memory. He frowned. "Yeah, but even if I stay here overnight, you wouldn't hate me for that, would you? Why would you—back when I had the flu, you and Tae-hyung didn't leave me alone for like a week."

Jimin narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. "You wouldn't let us go," he said. "You cried whenever Namjoon-hyung had to leave."

Jungkook felt his cheeks warm. "I was only eighteen! And I had a fever of 39.5! —But even after that, you didn't let me go anywhere on my own for days. I had to sneak out just to go to the movies by myself."

Jimin stared at him unblinking. "Right," he said. "All by yourself, you totally snuck out on your own and went to that Avengers movie. Without any of us being seated anywhere in the rows right behind you."

Jungkook refused to be derailed. "See, exactly—you understand what this is like! You've been there, you've done this. Even if it gets irritating—you know why we're doing it. I'm going to be staying here tonight, and I don't think you're going to argue about it with me. Since you're not mad at me. Since you'd be doing the same thing for me, if Yoongi-hyung had had to sew my guts back inside only a week ago. You're not going to chase me out now, are you, hyung?"

Jimin gave him a long, silent look. Jungkook met that glower, nervous, waiting, until finally Jimin shook his head.

"Good," Jungkook said, breathing out hard. It wasn't often that he had to face the brunt of Jimin's pressure; it was way more fun standing on the opposite side, watching others cower. "But then I really don't think you can get mad at Taehyung for that, either, can you? Like, if it was Taehyung who'd been shot—" and he was watching closely enough to see Jimin flinch, even though he tried to hide it—"wouldn't you be doing everything to try to take care of him?"

Jimin's eyes flashed and for a second Jungkook thought he might actually be dead. Never mind that this was Jimin who'd been protecting him for years; never mind that he was tucked in bed and propped up on pillows and with thick bandages still swathing his gut—this was Park Jimin, after all.

But then Jimin exhaled, long and shaky, deep enough to make himself wince and reflexively fold his arm over his stomach. "Even if Tae," he said, "even if he thinks he has to take care of me—he needs to take care of himself, too. To eat, to sleep—have you seen the bags under his eyes?"

"You really think Taehyung will sleep that much better somewhere else, alone?" Jungkook said, more than a little skeptically. He'd been with Taehyung on nights when Jimin couldn't be there, enough times to know that in those cases, Taehyung either would crawl in bed with him, or wouldn't sleep at all. Even Namjoon would let Taehyung curl up against him, those nights.

Though really, Jungkook wouldn't have thought that Jimin could sleep any better, and this afternoon had apparently proved that wrong.

"Taehyung doesn't think it's actually about that at all," Jungkook said softly. "What's got you so pissed off—he thinks it's about this morning. About whatever Namjoon and Hoseok told you, when you were out."

Jimin's eyes jerked up to his. "What—what did he tell you?" His voice was quiet, but his fists clenched in the blankets.

"Nothing!" Jungkook shook his head. "None of them—Taehyung hasn't been in the mood to talk, and Hoseok hasn't had the time, and Namjoon's barely speaking to me at all. But I told Tae it couldn't be that anyway; it doesn't make sense. What could they tell you that you didn't already know? You know Taehyung better than anybody."

"Yeah," Jimin said. "I should."

"I don't think you're being fair, hyung," Jungkook said. "It's not fair to Taehyung-hyung, to not even tell him what's really wrong. If you'd just talk to him—"

Jimin shook his head sharply. Then glanced up at Jungkook's frowning face, and almost smiled. "Mad at me after all, Kookie?"

"Getting there," Jungkook said, still frowning. Normally Jimin's teasing wouldn't bother him. But normally it would be Jimin and Taehyung teasing him together, while sniping at each other in between. It was all wrong now, unbalanced. "I just don't understand. Whatever Taehyung did, I'm sure he's sorry; can't you forgive him for it? At least give him a chance to apologize?"

For a long moment Jimin was still, staring fixedly down at the space between his hands where they clutched the blankets. Finally he said, barely above a whisper, "No. Not this. It's too much."

"But why—"

"I'm tired," Jimin said. He stretched, very carefully to avoid straining his stitches, and settled back into the pillows.

Jungkook eyed him narrowly, folding his arms. "You know, you're not going to be an invalid forever, hyung."

Jimin sighed. "But long enough. So I might as well get something out of it. Are you going to let me sleep? Or must I call in Yoongi-hyung?"

Jungkook winced. "You can sleep. Just—"

"I know, I know," Jimin said, shutting his eyes. "If you really want to sit there all night and watch me sleep, go ahead, knock yourself out." His voice was laced with sarcasm, but the breath he let out, the sinking of his shoulders, was more than show.

Before turning off the light, Jungkook studied his face for a moment, freely when Jimin's eyes were closed and weren't staring back. Even with his body relaxing, pain was still carving grooves between his brows, bracketing his mouth. For all the napping he'd done today, he looked no better rested.

Jimin might be the strongest person Jungkook knew, whether it was his physical body or his will. Even after a week, it was still jarring to see him so far from recovery. Too easy to remember what he'd looked like on the operating table, with his blood coating Yoongi's hands.

With that image waiting for him behind his eyelids, it wasn't hard for Jungkook to keep them open, sitting by the bed and watching the shadowy lump of Jimin under the covers, listening to each slow, living breath as the hours of the night ticked on.

Jungkook didn't realize he had actually fallen asleep after all until he was awoken, abruptly. The room was as dark as it had been when his eyes had drifted shut.

But not as quiet. At the soft whimper he was standing, scrambling up so fast he almost knocked over the chair. Then he stood there, half-awake, blinking.

Everything was silent now, as if he'd been dreaming. It took him a few sleep-dazed moments to realize what he had been hearing, to identify those muffled noises, beyond the innate panic they inspired in him.

He looked toward the bed, just able to make out the shadowy shape of the body curled up there, now motionless. "Jimin-hyung?"

There was no answer. But he no longer heard the steady sound of breathing that he'd dozed off to, either. "Hyung?" Jungkook repeated, more urgently, reaching out cautiously in the dark.

Jimin's shoulder was stiff when his fingers met it, not the loose weight of sleep but rigid and tense. Jungkook clasped it. "Hyung, should I get Yoongi?"

"—No," Jimin gasped out, his voice thick and muffled. "No, I—I don't need—"

"He can give you the good painkillers, at least," Jungkook said.

"No—don't wake hyung. I'm fine. It's not—not—" His shoulder shook under Jungkook's hand with each hitching breath.

Jungkook was awake enough now to be able to parse those catching gasps as more than the seizing of his lungs, to hear the raw hurt in them, beyond the physical. "Hyung," he said, awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed. He kept his hand on Jimin's shoulder, and Jimin didn't try to shrug him off. Jungkook blinked back the inevitable sympathetic stinging in his own eyes, and waited.

Jimin only took a minute to master the sobs, sucking in a shuddering breath and then letting it go, breathing in quieter, if too shallow, pants.

"Seriously, hyung," Jungkook said, as he impatiently wiped his sleeve across his own wet eyes, "you've got to take care of yourself, you've got to stop doing this to yourself."

"I'm not—"

"Oh yeah?" Jungkook said. It was easier to say it in the dark; he didn't have to raise his voice much for it to sound loud. "Have you actually been sleeping at all tonight? Or just pretending to?"

He heard Jimin shut his mouth so firmly his teeth clicked. No other answer.

"And you still need the painkillers, too," Jungkook said. "Even though you told Yoongi-hyung you didn't."

Jimin stayed silent, his shoulder unyielding as a rock wall under Jungkook's hand.

Jungkook sighed. "You really shouldn't have said that stuff to Taehyungie," he said. "Yoongi-hyung is going to get even more pissed off with you, if you keep hurting yourself like this."

Jimin stayed silent for a beat. Then said, so low it rasped in his throat, "It's not about me. None of it—it shouldn't be. If it hurts—it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter. That's not what's important."

Jungkook set his jaw. "Then what is?"

"You were there," Jimin said. He shrugged off Jungkook's hand, pushed himself up sitting. Even as only a shadowed silhouette, Jungkook could see the effort it took, how Jimin was hunched over, curled around his wounded gut. But he was forcing his breaths as even as he could, his voice level and calm in the dark. "Even if Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung haven't talked to you—you were there, the night I got shot. You saw Taehyung."

Jungkook shivered in spite of himself. Remembering Taehyung in the shower, the blankness in his eyes. And that blood-soaked coat Hoseok hadn't gotten rid of fast enough the next morning.

"You saw what happened to him," Jimin said. "He gave himself up to the Seungs to try to find me—"

"You're pissed off at Taehyung for trying to rescue you?" Jungkook stared at the shadows of Jimin's face, trying to make out his expression. "Then you should be mad at all of us; we all would've gone to save you, if we could've—"

"—But not what happened after," Jimin said. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "You wouldn't have done that."

More like couldn't have, Jungkook thought. Taehyung might not have Jimin's skill at hand to hand, or Hoseok's knifework, but he had abilities even they couldn't match.

"He went too far," Jimin said.

"For you, hyung!"

"Exactly!" Jimin snapped back. "Even though Taehyung knows the risks, knows them as well as I do. If it was you, or Namjoon-hyung—you're the ones we're supposed to protect. But for me, for him—what we do, it's not like we need a retirement plan. Sooner or later we're both going to pay the piper for this life, and Tae knows that—should know that. And yet, for me, he still...it never should have happened. But if there's some distance between us, if he learns that he doesn't need to stay with me—"

"Oh my god," Jungkook said. "You're trying to do that thing. That sad pet drama thing!"

"That what?"

Jungkook launched himself to his feet to switch on the lamp by the bedside. Jimin squinted into the sudden light as Jungkook stared down at him. "You know," Jungkook said, "the tearjerker scene in a drama when the kid has a puppy that he has to send away to keep it safe. Because his asshole uncle is going to kill it or something. So he's yelling and crying and throwing rocks at the dog until it goes away."

Jimin put down the hand shading his eyes from the light. His jaw was set—actually angry at Jungkook now. "Taehyung is not a dog—"

"Then why are you treating him like that?" Jungkook folded his arms and glared back. "If Taehyung's a person, then he can decide for himself, can't he, whether he wants to stay beside you or try to rescue you or get upset if you get killed—that's his choice, isn't it? Same as it's yours, to be mad at him or care about him or ask him to stay."

Jimin was still staring at him, and Jungkook held still, made himself hold that fierce gaze. Half-expecting Jimin to swing a fist, or to snap at him with that cold bitter fury, and he braced for the bite.

Instead Jimin snorted, and shook his head. The corners of his lips curled up in a way that was almost a smile.

That was worse than any strike back. Jungkook shifted, ducked his head. "Or whatever," he mumbled. "...What?"

Jimin shook his head. "Just wondering," he said softly, "when you had time to grow up so much, Jungkook-hyung."

Jungkook shuddered. "Don't," he begged. "But does this mean you'll talk to Taehyung?"

That hint of a smile vanished. Jimin swallowed. "If," he said, his eyes dropping back to his hands in his lap, "if he'll talk to me..."

Jungkook nodded. "Great, I'll get him—"

Jimin shook his head again. "No, wait until tomorrow; it's too late for him to come all this way—"

"Seriously, hyung?" Jungkook rolled his eyes. With the late hour and the quietness of the apartment, he didn't even bother to raise his voice. "Taehyung-hyung, please come in, Jimin-ssi needs to talk to you."

It didn't take a second, of course. The latch clicked only softly as the door opened and Taehyung slipped inside the room. His shoulders were squared and his head was down, as if to not subject Jimin to whatever expression was showing in his face.

"You..." Jimin began, and stopped.

"You asked me to go," Taehyung said, very softly. "But not how far."

Jimin didn't reply. Jungkook waited. And waited, as Taehyung stood there with his head down and Jimin sat on the bed, head also lowered though his eyes kept glancing up, hands clasped in his lap rather than trying to tear up the blankets.

Jungkook tried to give them time, he did; but patience had never been his strong suit, and much as he didn't really go for talking himself, he had never been a big fan of silence. Especially when he had hyungs right there who were supposed to be making all the noise he needed. "Come on, say something! You said you'd talk to him, hyung, not just sneak peeks at him across the room!"

"I—" Jimin started.

Taehyung interrupted, softly, "—He doesn't have to."

"Well, I say he does!" Jungkook threw up his hands. "How many guys have you two taken down? Unarmed, even? You're supposed to be the scariest SOBs on the streets, but now you're scared of a few little words?"

He couldn't make out Taehyung's expression, but he was close enough to hear Jimin's soft snort. "When you put it that way...maybe I'd rather try my odds with a pistol again."

Jungkook blanched, but Taehyung spoke faster than he could, starting to turn away, "No, don't, I'll leave, I'll—"

"Tae," Jimin said, not cold like before but soft, "Tae, I was just kidding, don't—you don't have to go." Taehyung stopped moving, and Jimin swallowed, said hoarsely, "I didn't mean it before. What I was saying, I didn't mean it like that."

When Jimin lifted his head, a faint glitter showed in his eyes, to Jungkook's relief. This, now, was how Jimin and Taehyung were supposed to fight, hot-tempered snapping and then teary apologies.

Though Taehyung hadn't turned back yet, his hand still on the handle of the bedroom door. But it was still closed.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," Jimin said. "I didn't—I don't ever want to hurt you."

Taehyung shook his head. "That doesn't—you don't—"

"But I did," Jimin said, "I know I did. What I said to you, and this morning, too—leaving without waking you up. And talking to Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung—I shouldn't have, not without you. I didn't want to ask you about it, but I shouldn't have gone to them behind your back. I thought I knew most of it already, from what Namjoon-hyung told me that night; I didn't realize how far... "

Taehyung shook his head again. "No, that's all right. Hoseok-hyung already asked me, what he should say if you asked, and I told him it was okay. I didn't want to hide it from you."

"But you couldn't tell me."

Jimin's voice was quiet, but Jungkook saw the shudder go through Taehyung's shoulders, before he squared them. Turned back to face the beast, spine straight and jaw firm, and almost looking at Jimin, his gaze just slightly off-center on the wall behind him.

"I knew you wouldn't be happy about it," Taehyung said.

Jimin made a choked sound that wasn't even trying to be a laugh. "Not happy...that's sure as hell one way to put it." He dragged a hand through his hair, even as lifting his arm that high made him wince. "I know...I know you want this to be better, Tae—I know you want me to make it better. And I wish I could, but—"

"It's all right, Jiminie," Taehyung rasped. He was standing there right there at the end of the bed in the cramped little room. And yet somehow the rigid straightness of his back, the calmness of his face, felt untouchably far away and completely, frighteningly alone. "You don't have to make yourself do anything. I know what I did; I know it can't be changed. I knew it couldn't be; I went to the Seungs knowing. If you'd been there, so I could have saved you—but you weren't. So I knew—every single one of them, I knew."

"I know," Jimin said. "I know, but it's not all right. What can I say—how can I possibly apologize to you; how can I have any right? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I put you through that. But you're right, it can't be changed. I wasn't there; I couldn't do anything for you. And there's nothing I can do about it now. And I know how you must feel about me now—after doing that to you, when I swore I never would."

"...What you did?" Taehyung said. His voice was so strained it sounded flat, hard to read, but his brows were folding together in confusion. "How I feel...what am I supposed to be feeling about you?"

"Angry," Jimin said. "Angry, at me—how can you not be angry at me? Even if you weren't going to say it, maybe even wouldn't let yourself feel it, when I was so hurt. I know the way you are; it wouldn't have been...fair, or whatever. But I'm well enough now, so you can be. Be furious at me, get pissed off, yell at me, give me the cold shoulder, whatever you have to do."

Taehyung lifted his head to finally look at Jimin directly. Staring at him. "Why would I be angry at you?"

"Because I wasn't there for you!" It exploded out of Jimin like a charge had been set off in his heart. "When I should have been—all these years, relying on you, telling you to rely on me, but then when I needed to be, I wasn't there for you—"

"No," Taehyung said, shaking his head. "No, it was me—I wasn't there for you. I didn't save you, and instead—you always try to stop me, try to keep me from going too far. You believe I'm better than that, but I wasn't; you weren't there, and I wasn't, and the Seungs—"

"I don't give a flying fuck about the Seungs!" Jimin shouted. The strength of that yell, or the way it brought him surging forward on the bed, left him gasping, his hand pressed to his bandages and another cold sweat broken out across his brow.

Jungkook grabbed him, bodily shoved him back against the pillows. Probably rougher than Yoongi would approve of, and Jimin gripped his arm, tight enough to bruise, even as he sagged into the mattress.

Taehyung took a stumbling step forward, hand stretching out toward Jimin automatically. Only to freeze again when Jimin dragged up his head, pinned him with a piercing look.

"I don't give a fuck about the Seungs," Jimin said again, unevenly between his ragged breaths. "Whatever you did to them—I'd have done the same damn thing, if I thought they'd killed you. Or Kookie," and his fingers dug harder into Jungkook's forearm, "or Namjoon, or any of you. They had it coming. But it shouldn't have been you that did it, Tae. It shouldn't be you; it shouldn't ever be you. Even if you're the only one who can—you shouldn't ever have to."

Taehyung was still staring at him. Not angry or even upset anymore, just baffled. "But it was you," he told Jimin. "So of course I will; I always will. Even if you don't think I should or that I don't have to or that you don't want me to; even if you'll be mad at me or scared of me. Even if—even if you'll hate me—"

"—Never," Jimin broke in. Taehyung's arm was paused, still outstretched toward him, and Jimin whipped out his hand, though the effort left him gasping, locked his fingers around Taehyung's wrist. "Not ever—whatever you do, I might get angry and I might get scared, but I'll never be scared of you. And I'll never hate you. You know that, you should know that, you have to know it, always—"

Taehyung hesitated, trying to pull back. Though only for a moment, and from the panicked look he shot Jimin, it was less out of reluctance and more out of caution for Jimin's injuries—but Jimin clearly didn't give a damn about that either, and Taehyung finally gave up, let Jimin pull him in. He buried his face in Jimin's shoulder, carefully wrapped his arms around him. "I know," he chanted back, "I know it, I know," and Jungkook didn't even know which one of them Taehyung was reassuring, Jimin or himself.

Either way, Jungkook grinned to see it, and was still grinning when Jimin pried one arm off Taehyung to loop around Jungkook's shoulders and yank him into their hug. "Thanks," Jimin whispered into his ear, and Jungkook nodded and tucked his chin over Jimin's shoulder, as Taehyung's arm wrapped around his back and gripped him close.

He and Taehyung both felt it when Jimin sagged between them, going heavy with exhaustion, his eyelids drooping—for real this time, not faking it like he had all day. He didn't protest when Jungkook handed him the dose of painkillers Yoongi had left on the nightstand, just swallowed the pills down with water, and let Taehyung gently maneuver him back resting on the supporting pillows.

He didn't protest, either, when Taehyung crawled up to sit on the bed next to him, leaning against the headboard; Jimin's sigh wasn't resignation but relief, as his hand found Taehyung's, their fingers interlacing. Folding together tight enough that neither of them could free themselves, not without hurting the other. They were both most of the way asleep when Jungkook slipped out the bedroom door, closing it carefully behind him.

Out in the hall, Hoseok had dragged a chair in from the living room, set right where Taehyung had been standing for the rest of the day. He didn't even try to pretend he hadn't been listening through the door, just gave Jungkook a relieved smile, a gleam of white teeth in the light from his phone screen. "Worked it out?"

"Think they have, yeah," Jungkook said.

"I think you did," Hoseok corrected. "For both of them."

Jungkook just shrugged awkwardly, then looked toward the living room. "So if you're here, is Namjoon-hyung...?"

Hoseok shook his head. "I haven't had any luck getting him to stop working. So I sicced Jin-hyung on him tonight."

No matter how busy Namjoon was, he wouldn't leave Seokjin without someone watching his back. No more than Jungkook had, last night, when Seokjin had insisted on going back to their places to pick up a few things. And then they'd both fallen asleep on Jungkook's couch...Jungkook gave Hoseok a narrow look. "Hoseok-hyung, did you tell Jin-hyung to stay with me last night?"

"No," Hoseok denied. Then, without blinking, "It was Seokjin-hyung's idea. We figured it was the best way to get things to come to a head with those two," he aimed his thumb at the bedroom. "Nothing like a little time apart to remind both of them how much they hate that."

Seokjin had started rushing them to get over to the safehouse as soon as they'd gotten Hoseok's text this morning, Jungkook recalled. But then he'd let Jungkook go up alone, to find Taehyung there without Jimin.

"Hyung..." Jungkook began, then shook his head. Couldn't argue with results. "I can take this watch, so you can sleep."

"I'm good for now," Hoseok said. "Go rest now, I'll wake you to spell me later."

"Will you?" Jungkook said.

Hoseok just laughed, quietly in the dark hallway. "Eventually," he said. "Go, sleep, Kookie. You've earned it."

Still, Jungkook hesitated, glancing back at the bedroom door.

"It'll be okay," Hoseok told him, and smiled again when Jungkook looked at him. "Really. They're talking. And with Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, together, on our side—how can we lose?"