Chapter Text
“Commander! It looks like we’re trapped! Enemy spacecrafts are encroaching on every side!”
The wail of the emergency siren is deafening to the ears, but the gasps of panic and fear are far more important. All around Commander Park are his crewmates, his fellow pilots, the people he swore to protect with his very life when they disembarked into the unknown void of space.
His eyes travel to each one of their faces: Dr. Mephestus, the kind and simple soul from the far off planet of Ma’ktari; Ensign Lalari, a man he thought to be his enemy, yet became one of his fiercest and most valiant partner; the new cadet Seonghwa, all starry eyed and filled with passion and untapped potential.
“Commander,” a voice calls to him, quiet and careful. Park turns to his left and finds the face of his Lieutenant, the only man he’s ever trusted with his life, the man who dedicated his life to serve at Park’s side. If Commander Park is the light that shines through the darkness and guides the hand of his ship and crew, then Lieutenant Kwon is the lantern that envelops Park and keeps him safe.
“Commander,” Kwon says, eyes determined and his hand tensely resting on the console. “We await your orders.”
Those eyes have always captivated Park. The steely determination, the assurance that whatever demand Park gives, Kwon will be right there with him at his side, as he always will.
“…Deploy the Mach 613.”
“He’s fucking late.”
Yoongi looks up from his phone, at Jimin currently pacing back and forth from one wall of the dressing room to the other. The rhythmic * click click click! * of his heeled boots masks the sound of Jimin grinding his teeth, but when Yoongi meets the pink-haired man’s eyes, he can hear the rage lightly bubbling in his throat.
“He’s always late,” says Yoongi, which isn’t what he should say, or at least not what Jimin wants to hear. There’s no point in saying what everyone is thinking right now. They go through this bullshit every time with every convention, fanmeet, variety show appearance, supermarket opening—
“He shouldn’t be late!” Jimin shouts, stomping his foot and throwing his hands up. “We gave him advanced notice! He does this just to piss us off, I’m telling you .”
“He might be stuck in traffic,” pipes up Namjoon. He’s still staring at himself in the mirror, delicately touching up the latex of the tentacle wig slapped onto his head. He looks at Yoongi in the reflection, the golden contacts making his eyes look wide and perplexed. “He’s not the only person late. We should just give him some time.”
Yoongi can trust Namjoon to be a voice of quiet reason. God knows they need patience when dealing with someone like Kim Seokjin.
Jimin huffs and throws himself onto the couch next to Yoongi. It’s the most seating that a convention provided for them. Sometimes, they’d be lucky enough to have a chair, let alone a couch and a makeup booth and snacks that haven’t gone expired.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Jimin says to the flickering lights above them, to the water stain on the ceiling. “I danced in three companies. I performed at the Daloreum. I was on Broadway— ”
“You shook hands with Brad Pitt,” Namjoon calmly points out. Jimin sticks a finger in the air.
“I shook hands with three celebrities! All three of them saw me as their equal! But now look at me!” Jimin flops his arms down. “A washed up, nobody that no one remembers outside of being ‘the pink-haired guy on Mikrokosmos that says a stupid line over and over like some dancing monkey!!! ”
Yoongi says nothing. What’s the point?
Jimin’s seething turns to heavy breathing. He closes his eyes, still glitter pink stars and moons stuck on his eyelids from applying them earlier. Namjoon continues applying glue to the wig cap. Seokjin and Jeongguk are still late.
The auditorium’s roar is deafening when one of the event promoters comes to the dressing room to fetch them, leaving the door open so Yoongi can hear the music of Mikrokosmos blaring through the loudspeakers.
“Oh, I got a voicemail from Jeongguk. He should be here in a few more minutes,” the promoter explains. He smiles a heart-shaped smile at everyone’s dull faces (aside from Namjoon, who perks up a little at the mention of Jeongguk and starts vigorously applying more makeup to his sweating neck). “Do you guys need anything? Are you comfy?”
“Have you heard back from Seokjin yet?” Yoongi questions.
The promoter winces. “Uh…well, I messaged him…and I called him…and I left a voicemail…but I’m sure he’s on his way!”
Jimin scoffs loudly. Yoongi nudges him lightly with the side of his foot.
The promoter winces, feeling the tension weighing heavy in the air on his shoulders. “Right, well, um…I’ll just give him another call then, okay? The crowd is getting really amped up. They can’t wait to see you all!”
Not if Seokjin doesn’t show up, Yoongi thinks, but just smiles politely and nods.
The promoter leaves, presumably to tame the masses and pray to a deity that Seokjin decides to look at his phone and at least say he’s coming , let alone an ETA. There used to be a time where Yoongi would fervently message Seokjin to find out if he’s coming or how long is he staying before abandoning them for another side gig. There used to be a time where Yoongi messaged Seokjin about things that didn’t matter, and they’d have a chat, and Yoongi would smile and think everything was pleasant.
He sighs to himself and opens up his phone to the fan page again.
“Commander! We’ve never tested it! You could be endangering us all! ” Ensign Lalari yells, eyes wide and mouth tense.
“We have no choice. I’m not going to let any of you die at the hands of that menace Xorlog,” Commander Park sternly reprimands. Lalari grits his teeth, turning his gaze to Kwon.
“You need to talk him out of this. There has to be a way that isn’t so risky,” Lalari begs.
“I trust the Commander, Ensign Lalari,” Kwon firmly states. “He has never once led us astray. For that, with every choice he makes, I trust him with my life. As should you.”
The back door of the dressing room gets thrown open, the bright light from the July heatwave brightening the dimly lit interior. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” Jeongguk gasps out, unzipping his leather jacket to reveal that he’s already dressed in costume minus the white belt with the signature rabbit shaped buckle. He grabs the belt from one of his jacket pockets, looping it around his waist as he gives an apologetic bow to everyone present. Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi sees that Namjoon has stopped applying makeup and has started ogling Jeongguk in the mirror. He rolls his eyes, just the usual.
“You’re fine, Seokjin isn’t here yet anyways,” Jimin says to the ceiling, slapping his hands on his thighs. “And if he doesn’t show up, then I say we just start the show before everyone in the auditorium starts eating each other.”
Jeongguk blinks. “Seokjin isn’t back from the cafe gig yet?”
All heads turn to him. “Cafe gig? What are you talking about?” Yoongi questions.
“Did he book a gig without us?” Jimin asks, sounding appalled, before pointing a finger. “And why didn’t you tell us anything?!”
Jeongguk winces. “I didn’t know he was going to take it. It was one of those meet and greet cafe things. They offered a gig for me once, contingent if I wore the slave outfit from episode seventy-two for photo ops and if Seokjin was there as the ‘Commander’ to rescue me,” Jeongguk explains.
“Did you two do the job?” Yoongi asks.
“I think hyung has my number blocked, actually,” Jeongguk mumbles.
“I think he’s got all of our numbers blocked,” Jimin dryly states, eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.
Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek. Well, he knows his number isn’t blocked.
Jimin shoots up to his feet. “That’s it. Either we’re going out on that stage or we’re walking out the door. Which is it going to be?” he questions.
“They’re not going to accept Seokjin not being there on the stage with us,” Namjoon reminds.
“Well maybe we should go on that stage and tell them that this is all they’re going to get and maybe that they shouldn’t invest so much blind adoration into someone that doesn’t even give enough of a shit to show up— ”
The door swings open again, hard enough this time for the doorknob to bang against the wall. The sound makes Yoongi’s ears ring, and already he can feel the beginnings of a headache creeping alongside his cranium.
“Your commander has arrived!” Seokjin loudly proclaims, commander jacket slung over his shoulder, sunglasses perched on his head, and a iced venti whatever from Starbucks hanging from his right hand. He looks around at everyone, his gaze lingering on Yoongi a split second longer (not that anyone’s counting or anything.) “Did I walk in on another of Jimin’s rants or are we about to head out?” Seokjin asks.
“I thought we agreed that if there was a gig for Mikrokosmos that we’d all tell each other so that way we do it as a group ,” Jimin loudly declares. Seokjin has Namjoon hold his drink for him as he shrugs on his commander jacket. Even after all these years, it still fits his broad shoulders perfectly.
“Are you talking about the cafe thing this morning?” Seokjin asks, scoffing. “It wasn’t a gig, it was just a little get together. There were Commander Park fans doing a cup signing event and I just dropped by to chat, take pictures, sign some autographs—”
“Get some twink fanboy’s number,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath, tucking his shoulders up to his ears and locking his phone.
“What was that?” Seokjin asks, striding over to the couch and placing a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder to tilt him back and make him look up at Seokjin. With the way the lights are framed around Seokjin’s head, it makes him look like an angel. If Yoongi didn’t know Seokjin and was seeing him for the first time, the sight might have made him swoon a little, snatching the breath right out his lungs.
But Yoongi knows Seokjin. He knows a little more about Seokjin than he would want to know.
“Look, it was just a little get together . Nothing serious. I’ll be on time for the next thing. What are we doing tomorrow?” Seokjin asks, waving his hand through the air and clapping up a response. “Supermarket, right? Brand new supermarket. I will be there first thing in the morning. Come on, let’s see some smiles! All of our fans are waiting for us!”
Seokjin ignores the cold silence in the room and strides towards the backstage area, not even throwing a look back over his shoulder to check if anyone is following him. But, bitterly, Yoongi is the first to rise from the couch and take the step forward.
“We should protest. He can’t keep treating us like this,” Jimin says.
“Well if he gets out on that stage first, then no one is going to care who comes out after. So we might as well beat him to it,” Yoongi says.
“Could you help me with my belt?” Jeongguk asks Namjoon and Namjoon drops Seokjin’s drink on the ground on accident to quickly free up his shaking hands. Yoongi sighs to himself. Hopeless, utterly hopeless.
Yoongi hears a groan of frustration further behind him, followed by Jimin shouting, “I’m not going to say that stupid line!” and the stomps of his angry heeled boots as he and Yoongi head backstage after Seokjin.
Seokjin is waiting for them behind the curtain, already helping himself to another iced coffee that was handed to him by a stagehand. He smiles at Yoongi and the small trail of his ‘crew’ following behind him. Yoongi averts his eyes, saying nothing as he moves to stand at Seokjin’s side.
“My lantern that always protects my shining light,” Seokjin says under his breath with a knowing smile. Yoongi feels his cheeks flare up with sudden heat. He’s thankful that he at least has the shadow of the backstage to hide and calm himself down.
“Are we ready to meet our intrepid crew of the S.S. Wooteo?!” the promoter shouts into the microphone, and he is answered with a roar of the crowd, chanting names, the stomp and thud of feet in rhythm. Yoongi has done conventions ever since the show ended nearly two decades ago. Somehow, the electric buzz that sits in his veins when he hears the fans chanting for him, when he sees the fans smiling at him, never seems to feel any weaker.
He catches Seokjin’s smile out of the corner of his eye. He knows Seokjin feels the exact same way.
“First up, you know him! You love him! Our lantern that protects the crew’s light, Lieutenant Kwon Minjun! Min Yoongi!” The promoter rushes out, and Yoongi steals a breath before rushing out past the curtain and onto the stage. The shouts of the crowd welcome him, the light from the projector blinding him as he makes his way to the front of the stage. In the crowd, he sees several dressed up in his signature blue and grey uniform, fists over their hearts in a salute.
“I will be your lantern, Commander,” Yoongi hears his voice say, a video recording of him playing directly behind him, blown up large so they can see the ‘fierce determination’ in his eyes. “And you will be our light.”
Yoongi looks over his shoulder at the projection screen, at a face that is fifteen years younger and still filled with all the hope and opportunity that has since shriveled up and died inside of Yoongi’s chest now. He sighs, letting the heat of the stagelights warm his face.
“Next up! Our fiery enemy turned fiercest ally, it’s Ensign Lalari aka Park Jimin!” the promoter introduces next. Jimin steps out, head held high and shoulders squared back. The crowd cheers and Yoongi can see a few prop swords raised in Jimin’s name. Jimin bows his head respectfully, keeping his smile thin as the ‘War Theme’ blasts through the loudspeakers, a cacophony of horns and electric guitar.
“I AM LALARI!” Jimin’s voice yells from the speakers. Yoongi looks over his shoulder at Jimin standing on a rocky hill, pointing a finger at the S.S. Wooteo crew, his face covered in red ‘blood’. “AND YOU WILL DIE!”
Lalari’s first encounter with the S.S. Wooteo crew was voted number six in the top ten most memorable character introductions. Lalari wasn’t even supposed to join the crew, but Jimin’s hammy acting rocketed the character into everyone’s hearts, and simultaneously killed any chances of Jimin ever returning back to his life of being a world-renowned dancer. Jimin turns back to walk to Yoongi, the smile on his face dropped and replaced with a mouth holding back an irritated curse.
“At least you didn’t have to say the line,” Yoongi says with a smile. Jimin wrinkles his nose at him.
They come out one by one, each to thunderous applause as they wave and bow and let an old clip of them play. Namjoon greets the crowd with a shy wave while his character on the reel stoically pushes half-rimmed glasses up his nose and states “I’m a pilot, not a miracle worker” or some variant (Yoongi’s at least heard twelve different renditions while doing the con circuit.)
When Jeongguk comes out, his belt is half fastened around his waist and sits low on his hips. He’s wearing a jumpsuit so it’s not like the belt needs to hold anything up, but the disheveled look sends the crowd into a frenzy.
“Our bridge bunny, Cadet Seonghwa! Jeon Jeongguk!” the promoter introduces.
“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” the crowd chants while on the projector, a video clip of Jeongguk half naked and crawling on all fours towards a chained up Seokjin plays. “Commander, I’m not feeling quite like myself,” Jeongguk’s voice breathily responds through the loudspeakers. Yoongi can tell the Jeongguk in front of him mouths along to the line, bringing his hands up to his chest to tease the zipper.
The crowd screams and Yoongi can see Namjoon’s eyes bulging out of their sockets. Namjoon has always been a sweaty guy, constantly needing touch up on the set when the stage lights got too hot. But when it came to Jeon Jeongguk, Namjoon turned into a human sprinkler.
Jeongguk only tugs the zipper down a bit and wags his finger at the crowd, who respond with a collective ‘awww’ of disappointment and a few ‘ tease!! ’ shouted at Jeongguk as he retreats back to stand in line with everyone else. There’s a flush of pink on Jeongguk’s cheeks as he stands by Yoongi, subtly pulling his zipper back up to cover his collarbone.
“And now, last but certainly not least,” the promoter announces, leaning forward over the podium, drawing a hush of anticipation from the crowd. “My favorite commander. Our favorite commander. The one, the only, the impeccable , the amazing–”
“It’s like his introduction just gets longer than ours every single convention,” Jimin mumbles.
“Commander Park Soonyong! Kim! Seok! Jin!” the promoter shouts and the crowd screams.
Yoongi has done conventions many times since Mikrokosmos ended. He knows the usual schtick down to the corny lines he gets repeated back to him during the autograph signings. He knows the spectacle that Seokjin brings as he makes his grand entrance, the big hands and loud laughs he gives to the crowd as they welcome him with their chanting and hollering. Above their heads, the speakers blare out the titular Mikrokosmos theme, and behind them, a younger Seokjin is projected on the screen, standing tall and proud with all of their eyes on him.
“Never give up! Never surrender!” Seokjin yells into the microphone along with the recording, and the crowd echoes it back to him, their fists over their hearts in an honoring salute. Seokjin laughs and pumps his fist into the air, sending the crowd into another hyped frenzy. Yoongi can hear frenzied screams of ‘Commander Park, I love you!!’ peppered into the noise, and he has to fight his eyes from rolling back into his skull.
Seokjin would have acknowledged those screams, but the moment he brings the microphone back up to his lips, an announcement jingle plays through the loudspeakers. “Come see the cast of Mikrokosmos on deck-3, over by the concessions stand and our artist alley! Enjoy the rest of your time here at Galacticon! ” the announcer bellows, while the microphone is politely taken out of Seokjin’s hands by the promoter and is speedily led off the stage.
Yoongi keeps his sigh, and wordlessly, he follows after Seokjin, hearing the footsteps of the rest of the cast trailing after.
“I always thought you were the most level-headed character on the show,” a fan enthuses to Yoongi, watching the careful way he writes his signature over his printed face. “You were always such a calming presence. It was like seeing you gave me a breath of fresh air.”
“I’m glad you thought that. It’s very sweet,” Yoongi says, giving a warm smile that makes the woman quietly swoon under her breath. She takes his autograph and hugs it against her bosom, nodding a ‘thank you’ to Yoongi before moving over to the right to Seokjin’s own personal autograph station. A small crowd has already formed around Seokjin’s table. Yoongi can see out of the corner of his eye that the man isn’t signing anything. Most likely, Seokjin is recounting some episode from his perspective. He’s always been fond of telling fans about the Endorloks in episode 45 or (for a mature crowd) the space vixens in episode 91.
On the opposite end of the table, Yoongi hears a fan shout “I AM LALARI AND YOU WILL DIE!’. This is the twelfth time a fan decided to greet Jimin with his line. Yoongi can only imagine that the man’s head is about ready to pop off his shoulders and explode in a fit of aggravated rage.
“Hey, hey, hey!” the promoter greets, pushing his way lightly through the crowd. He slips the sunglasses he was wearing (even though they’re in a brightly lit auditorium) up into his blond hair and gives his heart shaped smile. “How’s everything going? Good? Are we all comfortable?” he asks, glancing down at the row of disillusioned faces.
Yoongi props his chin up with his hand. “Thanks for the introductions on stage,” he says, gesturing with a finger between them and Seokjin, still blissfully unaware and engaged with his story. The promoter smiles, nodding his head in agreement.
“Of course! You know, I do my best. Hey, you don’t happen to have a little spot I could maybe sit and sign some autographs with you, huh?” the promoter asks.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Why would you need to sign autographs?”
The promoter chuckles, gesturing to his platinum blond hair. “It’s the hair, right?” he asks. Yoongi blinks. The promoter continues. “I was on the show! Several times! Played ‘Crewman 86, 45, 32, 71’, gosh the list just goes on and on.” He snaps his fingers. “Remember in episode 21 with the lava monster?”
“Uh…” Yoongi hasn’t rewatched any episodes since they went back into syndication. The DVD box set of the entire series still sits unopened on his bookshelf.
“I was the guy that accidentally fell into the pit of lava just before the first half ended!” the promoter explains, raising his hands and letting out a scratchy, gurgling sound.
“Ahhhh…right…”
The promoter sticks his hand out. “Jung Hoseok!” he introduces formally, pulling out a stack of headshots from the inner pocket of his windbreaker and setting them down on the end of the table next to Yoongi’s stack. Yoongi shakes the man’s hand to be polite, a tense smile on his lips as he rises to his feet.
“Uh, you can take my chair for a bit. I’m going to walk around and get some stretches in,” Yoongi says with an awkward nod, waving to the small crowd of fans that were waiting for an autograph. “Be right back ,” he promises. Some fans nod, other fans give him the salute, others wander out of the line to enjoy what other things the convention has to offer (which frankly isn’t much).
Galacticon is small but Yoongi enjoys the small, hometown nature of the convention. He smiles at the fans dressed up in amateur cosplay, cheap variations of their starsuits and uniforms. There’s a smell lingering in the air, a bit like sweat and dust and cheap latex. There’s a line for the only snack machine on the floor, while over at the concessions booth, people stand in line for overpriced cheese toast and stale popcorn. Everything about this venue is cheap, from the too bright lights above to the sticky carpeting underneath his foot.
But he loves it.
Yoongi wanders over to a booth in the artist alley, a place where the fan artists can convene and sell some fan merch. Yoongi always peruses the area, just to support the young artists in attendance and certainly not to look at ‘Kwark’ fan art prints and stickers some artists are selling. It’s in the contracts for every fan creator attending a con with the cast present to keep their wares strictly PG, on account of one NSFW artist a few years back traumatizing Jeongguk with their copious doujins and prints of bridge bunny Seonghwa getting gangbanged by literally every single creature they’ve encountered on the show.
Yoongi smiles at the set of buttons on the table, of Lieutenant Kwon and Commander Park in chibi form cuddled up together with the name ‘KWARK’ above their enlarged heads. “Cute,” says Yoongi, reaching into his boot (no pockets on this damn costume) to grab his card. “How much?”
The fan artist smiles. She doesn’t look older than eighteen. Ah, to be young and full of potential. “It’s seven hundred won!” she chirps, taking Yoongi’s card to charge it while Yoongi takes the button and pins it to his sleeve. “Um, you know, it’s really an honor to meet you,” she says, shyly looking at Yoongi through her eyelashes.
“It’s always nice to meet a fan, especially one so talented,” Yoongi responds, taking his card back with a smile.
“You both inspire me so,” she says, fist over her heart. “In all honesty, and I mean no deep offense, but the writers completely flubbed both of your storylines. It was very clear that you both were in love with each other, yet they just tried to pair the Commander off with Seonghwa at the last minute and it just didn’t fit . Even Commander and Lalari would have been good because of the whole ‘enemies to lovers’ aspect, but Seonghwa can’t ever match the devotion that you have for the Commander.”
Ah, a hardcore Kwark shipper. Yoongi’s met a couple of these types at past conventions too. He’s glad that they’re having this conversation in private; the more intense Kwark shippers usually aren’t afraid to tell Jeongguk to his face how he ruined the entire show and derailed Kwark being canon with his ‘slutty body’.
“Ah, well, even though the Commander and I are… close… there was never plans for us to be more than just friends.”
“That’s what he says,” Seokjin’s voice announced from behind Yoongi, his lips practically kissing the shell of Yoongi’s ear.
Yoongi jumps in his spot, covering the Kwark button with one hand as he turns and meets Seokjin’s curious gaze and crooked smile. Seokjin looks over at the fan artist, her eyes wide with amazement, as if Seokjin was an angel about to deliver unto her the biblical truth. “You know, there’s always nights that I spend by myself and think, ‘I’d brave all the dangers of space, the dark empty void, the vast terrains where not a speck of human life exists, so long as I have the Lieutenant by my side.’” Seokjin looks at Yoongi, and his smile softens. “When I’m with him, it’s like I have Heaven all to myself.”
They’ve amassed a small crowd of fangirls, and they all give a loud ‘squeee’ at Seokjin’s confession. Yoongi huffs, subtly unpinning the button and tucking it into his hand.
“You used that line on a Vangorian space vixen in episode 12,” Yoongi says, turning on his heel and walking away.
“Yoongi-yah!” Seokjin shouts, chasing after Yoongi and grabbing lightly on his arm. “Yoongi-yah, come on, it’s been years since we’ve talked,” he says with a pout in his voice. Yoongi turns to him and pulls his arm free, adjusting the sleeve carefully, still trying to not let Seokjin see the Kwark print on the other side of the button in his sweaty grip.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy,” Yoongi says.
“Doing what?” asks Seokjin. “Taking care of that stray cat you’ve been featuring on your Instagram?”
Yoongi looks at Seokjin, eyebrow raised. “You follow my Instagram?” Yoongi asks, when what he really means to ask is, ‘You have an Instagram?’
Seokjin nods. “It’s how I keep track of what all of you are doing. Cause none of you call me,” he says, pouting.
“Jeongguk called you about a gig. You didn’t speak to him then?” Yoongi questions.
“Oh.” Seokjin scratches the back of his neck. “Er, well, I saw that he called. I was just…preoccupied and forgot to respond back to his message.” Seokjin huffs a laugh. “But let’s not talk about that. Yoongi-yah, are you free after this? I was thinking you and I should catch up over some drinks? I got a new bottle of Hennessy that I’ve been wanting to crack open and share with someone.”
Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek. “…I’ll think about it,” he says. He has to think about it very carefully, considering that Yoongi doubts Seokjin extended this invitation to hang out with the others. Things get…messy when it’s just the two of them. Yoongi doesn’t like messy.
It’s not the response Seokjin clearly was hoping for, but he accepts it with a nod. Yoongi pulls away and turns, heading back to the autograph table before he gets stopped again. Which, he does.
It’s a group of four cosplay members, three men and one woman. The young man in front must be the leader, and he gives a box shaped grin to Yoongi as he enthusiastically brings his fist over his chest in a salute. “Lieutenant!” the young man shouts in Yoongi’s face, making Yoongi jump back with wide, startled eyes. “It is an honor to be in your presence! We’re here to see the Commander!”
Yoongi blinks. “Uh…over there?” he says, using his thumb to point over his shoulder at Seokjin now talking with the group of fan girls previously swooning over the both of them. The young man makes a… squawk, before the four of them move as one unit, shuffling over towards Seokjin with eager smiles and robotic arms. Yoongi watches them with a raised eyebrow, before shaking his head. Cosplayers, he thinks with a tiny huff, admire their dedication to the craft.
No other distractions keep Yoongi from returning to the table, this time pulling up a seat next to Jeongguk after collecting his head shots from his ‘usurped’ spot. Jeongguk looks at Yoongi, before glancing down at the table at Hoseok. He’s signing a few photos, though it also looks like he’s explaining himself to the confused fans wondering why he’s with the rest of the crew.
“You spoke to Seokjin?” Jeongguk asks, signing his name on his photo and handing it off to another fan with a bunny smile. Yoongi scoffs, smiles for a fan, and signs his name over his face.
“What makes you think I was talking to Seokjin?” Yoongi asks.
“Because the moment you got up, he got up and followed you,” Jeongguk explains, glancing now over at Seokjin’s table, where a small crowd of fans are loyally waiting for him to return from…wherever the hell it is he disappeared off to.
“…We had a brief exchange, yes,” Yoongi grudgingly admits a few seconds later, signing another photo.
“Oh?” Jeongguk’s eyebrow raises, interest piqued.
“Nothing of interest,” Yoongi clarifies. “There were fangirls around us and he did a shipping bit to please them.”
“Ah, the shippers,” Jeongguk says, the sigh that comes past his lips too wistful and wanting for the past where Jeongguk didn’t know a thing about shipping or OTPs or Rule 34. “Not a lot today at this convention, at least compared to the Star Gala where I was being called a ‘stupid whore’ for killing ‘Kwark’.”
“God, you’d think they’d realize that none of this is real,” Yoongi mutters under his breath.
“We make it real though, and that makes me happy to do it,” Jeongguk says, smiling at Yoongi, and deep down, Yoongi knows it’s right.
It’s been twenty minutes and a large crowd of fans have gathered around Seokjin’s empty table. Yoongi hates that he’s been finding himself draining his neck over to look, hoping to see through the crowd that Seokjin has returned and is once again trapped in recalling one of his daring (fictional) tales from outer space. The lines for the autographs with the crew are growing thin, and there are a couple of disappointed murmurs and confused glances happening before his eyes as everyone seems to mental ask the same question on Yoongi’s mind: Where the fuck is Kim Seokjin?
“He can’t have left,” Yoongi says to himself.
“Hmm?” asks Jeongguk. He’s keeping his eyes on the photo of him a fan printed out. Jeongguk has a set of photos and posters that he signs for fans, but there’s always a couple of them that bring out prints of Jeongguk covered in glitter and wearing silver sparkling bikini bottoms (episode 56) or Jeongguk in a golden loincloth (episode 112). Yoongi steals a quick glance at the photo. Ah, he doesn’t remember the actual episode number, but he does remember that episode when Seongwha was kidnapped by aquatic aliens and forced into a bikini made from rope and tattered remains of a flag. Namjoon gave himself two nosebleeds on set watching from the sidelines.
“Seokjin,” Yoongi clarifies. “Where did he go?”
“I dunno,” Jeongguk answers, handing the photo back with a slightly tense smile. “Maybe he stepped out to get some fresh air?”
“Maybe he dumped us and ran away to do a much higher paying gig,” Jimin answers from Yoongi’s left. A fan walks up to Jimin, sword in hand and sticky wet red paint still dripping down the sides of their face. “I AM LALARI! ” the fan screams and Jimin is already signing his photo and shoving it in the fan’s hands. The fan takes the photo, beaming.
“He wouldn’t do that,” Yoongi tells Jimin, signing his photo next. “He loves the fans and they love him. He wouldn’t do that to them.”
“People change over time,” Jimin says, eyes focused on the photo in front of him as he signs it and passes it onto the next fan in line. Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek, glancing back over at the table, still without the Commander.
Yoongi thinks of the idea to get up and search for Seokjin two seconds too late. Just when he is about to excuse himself to ‘get some fresh air’, he hears a small ruckus of hoots and clapping. He looks over and sees the crowd around Seokjin’s empty table parting, letting Seokjin come through and briskly take his seat as the crowd shower him in applause and cheers.
“See?” Jimin huffs. “He just wanted them to get desperate to see him and then shower him with love when he decides to throw them a bone,” he mumbles under his breath. Yoongi studies Seokjin’s expression, jaw set in a tight clench. Though they are a further distance away compared to where Yoongi originally sat, he can read Seokjin’s body language. His shoulders are hunched up and his head is down, upper body half slumped over the table like he’d rather die than look into the faces of his fans, and that’s just not something Seokjin would do.
“What happened to him?” Yoongi mumbles. Jeongguk looks away from the third unauthorized bikini pic of him presented and looks over too. Seokjin is signing autographs at a brisk pace, barely acknowledging the fans with a look before moving onto the next signature.
“…Maybe he’s tired?” Jeongguk suggests, but Yoongi shakes his head in disagreement. Seokjin being tired at a convention would mean the stories he’d tell his fans would be shorter, maybe made up with more bullshit improv that’ll spurn the tinfoil hat fans than actual facts and lore from the show. He’d ask them questions if he was tired of answering their questions. He’d ask about their day, if they’re enjoying themselves, if the show changed their lives as much as it has his. Seokjin doesn’t get ‘tired’ of his fans. He doesn’t get ‘tired’ of being Commander Park.
But the Seokjin that is sitting alone at his table, mechanically signing autograph after autograph looks tired in a way Yoongi never thought he’d see Seokjin be. The tired that comes with being tired of sitting at a convention all day in a constricting jumpsuit, the tired of working the convention circuit these last ten years. It’s the kind of tired that Yoongi succumbs to, that they all succumbed to ever since the show ended, but not Seokjin, never Seokjin. Until, apparently, now.
Yoongi shakes his head. He’s getting ahead of himself. For all he knows, Seokjin could be in the middle of a bit, playing the stoic and serious Commander as he performs his ‘duty’ to build relations for the USFO. His fingers itch to text him and ask ‘what’s up?’
“Lieutenant Park!” a young man announces, bringing Yoongi’s attention back to the crowd of fans that are directly in front of him. There’s a gangly limbed teenager standing in front of him, dressed in a jumpsuit that fits him one size too small, yet somehow looks rather endearing on him. He smiles at Yoongi and a dimple pokes out through the soft curve of his cheek.
“Cadet,” Yoongi greets in character, taking the photograph offered by the fan and signing it.
“Um, me and my friends were wondering—” the boy starts, and Yoongi now realizes that he’s in a cluster with three other friends, one of them being the Kwark fan artist Yoongi met earlier. She gives a smile and wave at him, offering a (PG) fanart of Cadet Seongwha and strangely Mephestus for Jeongguk to sign.
“Do…people ship me and Mephestus together?” Yoongi hears Jeongguk ask, extremely confused.
“It’s a rare pair,” the fan artist carefully explains. “But I think that you were the ones that had better chemistry. Not as good as Kwark, obviously but—”
“—So the cabin of the ship—”
Ah. Yoongi turns his attention back to the boy and the two friends directly behind him, trying to listen as the boy explains a rough draft of the ship’s ‘schematics’ that he lays out in front of Yoongi.
“We were curious about the location of the Mach 613. I know that it’s considered to be at the core of the ship, as referenced to by Dr. Mephestus. However , in episode 92, when the inner core of the ship was shown, there was nothing there that matched the description of what Mach 613 looked like. So, we were hoping to know your take on this error.”
Yoongi huffs through his nose, smiling. “You know, there’s only one other person who would know such confidential information about the Mach 613,” Yoongi says, tilting his head over towards Seokjin’s area with a nod, before rising out from his seat. “Come on, I’ll let you cut.”
He hears the excited murmurs and rushed ‘thank you’s from the teens, can hear them rushing to follow after him as he leads them behind the signing table and chairs over to Seokjin’s table. If there’s anything that would snap Seokjin out of whatever cloud that’s hanging over his shoulders now, it’s discussing the ship. The S.S. Wooteo is Seokjin’s favorite topic of choice at conventions. He’s the one that pushed for there to be a Lego model of the ship made for the show’s tenth anniversary, and it’s the only piece of merch that Yoongi owns from the show (even though it’s still sitting in its box unbuilt).
The crowds part for him in a similar way that they parted for Seokjin, everyone offering friendly smiles to Yoongi as he leads the small group of teens over to the front of the signing table. Now that he’s closer, Yoongi can see that Seokjin’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are dull. The signatures that he’s giving out barely look like his signature. The flicks of his wrist are lazy and mechanic, a quick swipe of his marker on the photo and then sliding it aside to sign the next photo on the stack.
Yoongi frowns, but keeps his questions to himself.
He and Seokjin aren’t friends like that. He just wants everyone to have a decent time at the convention that they paid their hard-earned money for.
“Commander,” Yoongi greets. Seokjin keeps signing photos, almost like he didn’t hear Yoongi or doesn’t see Yoongi standing literally right in front of him. Yoongi watches Seokjin absently sign two more photos before (carefully) slamming his hand on the table to get his attention. It gets Seokjin to stop, but now it gets him an even bigger audience than they already had. He thinks Namjoon and Hoseok are watching him out the corner of his eye and through the crowd gathering to see what’s going on.
“What is it?” Seokjin asks, voice level. His hand is tensely gripping the marker.
“…You have some young cadets that would like to ask you a question,” Yoongi states.
Seokjin looks up at him, and where did that look come from? It’s more than tired, it’s frustrated. It’s annoyed.
“Commander!” the boy greets, him as well as his friends doing the salute before once again spreading the schematics out on the table. “I was previously explaining to Lieutenant Kwon about the location of the Mach 613. We actually found an error when reviewing the episodes. You see, in the final epsiode, Dr. Mephestus mentioned that the device was at the core of the ship. But in episode 92 the device is not visible when you and a crew member were, uh, getting intimate .”
Yoongi clenches his jaw. Christ, it’s like Commander Park fucked someone in nearly every part of the ship. How was there ever any time for space adventures on the show between all the smut?
“We were just wondering, where the error lies and where is the exact location of the device because my friends and I have a theory—”
“It’s just a show,” Seokjin blandly responds, pushing aside the schematic to grab his headshots. He signs one and hands it to the boy. “Next.”
Yoongi balks, while the boy gives an uncomfortable laugh. His friends behind him look a bit wary, as do some of the fans watching the uncomfortable exchange. “I…I understand that it’s just a show, but I was hoping that maybe you would have information—”
“Am I a writer on the show?” Seokjin asks sharply, looking at the boy with a darker gaze. “A director? A producer? Why would I know or care about a fake device on a fictional fucking ship?”
The boy’s breath hitches in his lungs. Someone from the crowd audibly gasps.
“What’s your fucking problem?” Yoongi snaps, dropping the quiet Lieutenant demeanor since Seokjin is obviously not turned on to Commander Park. “It’s a harmless question—”
“Then you deal with it, since I don’t want to ‘hog the spotlight’ from the rest of the loser brigade.”
Yoongi’s jaw drops, eyes wide and unable to even think of words to say in response. Seokjin takes the opportunity of silence to roughly swipe the schematics off the table and shove his autograph into the boy’s chest. Without another word or glance at Yoongi, Seokjin stomps off, pushing himself through the crowd before they can get out of his way, not looking back at all the stunned faces that he leaves behind.
The boy’s name is Choi Soobin. Yoongi makes sure to get it along with his mother’s contact information, arranging a time for Soobin and his friends to drop by tomorrow at the supermarket opening to get the answer to his question as well as signatures from everyone on his schematics. Yoongi thinks he would have given the boy the box set on his bookshelf, or any random prop from the show Yoongi keeps stowed away in the back of his closet. Anything that would erase the shame and guilt he feels from watching the boy’s crestfallen face looking at the ‘autograph’ Seokjin gave him, Yoongi would have gladly offered it.
“He’s still not answering his phone,” Namjoon mumbles, tucking his phone away in his pocket. “Think he blocked my number.”
Yoongi clicks his tongue. He’s sure Seokjin didn’t actually block any of their numbers. He’s just ignoring them, and Yoongi doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse. Both he and Namjoon stand outside the convention center, windbreakers over their space uniforms and the tentacle wig still securely attached to Namjoon’s head. By now, everyone has left and gone home, awkward promises to be up and ready to go to the supermarket, no one really knowing what to say about what happened with Seokjin in the convention. Yoongi himself still feels like he’s trying to process it, as if he didn’t see it happen right before his eyes, because it just feels wrong .
Seokjin wouldn’t think those things, wouldn’t say those things. Not to his fans and not to Yoongi.
Yoongi thought…he thought that he was different. He and Seokjin aren’t friends, but he at least thought that with everything that happened between them…they’d still be closer than this.
“…I’ll call him after I drop you off,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath. “Need to make sure that he’s going to be in a better mood for tomorrow.”
“That can’t be all that you want to talk to him about, hyung,” Namjoon says, a bit of a knowing glance thrown at Yoongi. “I heard that he and that pop idol had a breakup.”
Yoongi knows already. He doesn’t care about that though. He’s been telling himself he doesn’t care and it doesn’t mean anything to him every single morning since the news broke along with the announcement that they were doing this convention circuit to celebrate the show’s fifteenth anniversary.
“Just because he’s not getting laid doesn’t give him the excuse to be a dick,” Yoongi says flatly. “I’ll call him later.”
Namjoon hums, straightening up when the double doors open and out walks Jeongguk, tugging on a windbreaker and tapping quickly on his phone. He stops when he notices Namjoon and Yoongi, giving them both a big, warm smile. “Oh! See you guys tomorrow!” Jeongguk says, waving.
“A-Ah wait!” Namjoon stammers, clumsily taking the rolled up tube of Soobin’s schematics from Yoongi. “Hyung was hoping that you could maybe sign this? For that fan that was talking to Seokjin before…well…”
Jeongguk winces. “Ah…yeah, I don’t mind,” he says, tucking his phone away in his pocket for now and grabbing the schematics.
Yoongi was originally going to ask everyone to sign it tomorrow at the supermarket opening. It’s not that pressing of an issue, and it would have been wrapped up quickly before Soobin came to grab it. But, Namjoon saw an opportunity and Yoongi couldn’t find it in him to turn the man down. So, he steps aside and watches as Namjoon tries to speak to the man he’s been thinking about for the last fifteen years and not make a fool of himself.
“Things have been going well with you?” Namjoon asks, offering Jeongguk a pen from his coat pocket when Jeongguk can’t find one.
“As well as they can be,” Jeongguk responds, dropping into a squat and carefully taking the schematics out to spread onto the ground. “Did everyone else sign it?”
“Ah, no. You’re the first,” says Namjoon.
Jeongguk squints at him. “We couldn’t sign this tomorrow at the supermarket?”
Yoongi snorts. That’s what he was planning to do.
Namjoon starts scratching the back of his neck. If he could, he’d scratch through the latex of his tentacle wig cap, dig his fingernails into his scalp and maybe also burrow through the skull and into his brain to pick out the lumpy part of brain matter in control of ‘awkward conversations’.
“Well,” Namjoon starts, trying to rethink this strategy, “I figured since you were here, it wouldn’t hurt to sign early?”
“Oh,” Jeongguk says, looking back down at the schematics. “Maybe I can just sign my name right now and add more to it tomorrow? My brain feels fried after signing all those half-naked pictures of me.”
Namjoon nods, smiling, crashing and burning. “Sure! Yeah, no, that’s totally fine!” he rambles with a loud laugh that makes Yoongi cringe inwardly. Jeongguk smiles back at him, quickly signing his name and rolling the schematics back up.
Yoongi leans in and gives a light kick to the back of Namjoon’s calf, startling Namjoon briefly. “U-Uh, things have been going well with you?!” Namjoon asks Jeongguk urgently. Yoongi brings his hand to his face and groans quietly into his palm.
Jeongguk giggles. “You asked me that,” he says to Namjoon’s reddening face. “I’ve been well, hyung. How have you been? I saw that you released another book.”
Namjoon perks up at that. “You’re following my series?” he asks
Jeongguk nods. “It’s exciting! I always liked space stuff since I joined the show, and reading your books really takes me back to our time on the set,” Jeongguk explains, scratching his cheek and averting his eyes. “I used to get a lot of flack from my ex-boyfriend about reading it since it’s a children’s series, but it’s still enjoyable for me, and the relationship between the astronaut and the star alien is sweet.”
“Oh…you two broke up?” Namjoon asks.
Jeongguk sighs, smile self-depreciating. “Bridge bunny Jeon Jeongguk can’t keep a boyfriend! I’m sure you’ve seen that headline on the news boards,” he says, crossing his arms. “Guys want to get their fantasy of fucking the hot cadet from Mikrokosmos, and once they do—” Jeongguk shrugs, averting his eyes with another sigh. “I guess it’s my fault. I can’t tell the difference between the shitty guys and the ones that are actually genuine about me as a person and not me as a sex symbol.”
Namjoon frowns. “Well, you are more than that, and so is Seonghwa,” Namjoon presses.
Jeongguk smiles. “That’s nice of you to say.” He giggles. “Do you know some fans ship Seonghwa and Mephestus together?” he tells Namjoon, and Yoongi can see Namjoon’s ears tinting red.
“Oh.” Namjoon coughs into the side of his fist. “I didn’t know that.”
“A fan explained it to me and after hearing her thoughts, it’s kinda cute.” Jeongguk beams, looking at Namjoon briefly before averting his eyes, rubbing his arm. “If it would have actually happened on the show instead of the writers trying to force Seonghwa onto Commander Park last minute…I think it would have been nice...”
“Yeah…I think so too…” Namjoon mumbles. Cautiously he takes a step forward towards Jeongguk. “Um, it’s…it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other and talked, but…there’s something that I really have to say to you.”
Jeongguk’s eyes sparkle with interest. He leans in closer. “What do you have to say to me?”
Namjoon licks his dry lips. “…Whenever I see you…when we were on set in the past or even now…I feel…um…I feel—”
A roar of a loud engine revving startles the three of them. Yoongi turns and sees a red coupe car speeding over towards them, braking hard and wheels screeching as they pull up along the curb. In the driver’s seat is a man with a scratchy looking beard and the tackiest Hawaiian shirt on. A cigarette is dangling from his thin lips and his beady eyes. Music is loudly playing from his radio, however the song keeps going in and out of static. That coupled with the noise of the loud engine creates one big discordant sound that makes Yoongi’s head hurt and makes him hate the stranger before the man can utter one single word.
“Jeongguk-ah! Come on!” the man yells around his cigarette.
Yoongi looks over his shoulder at Jeongguk, at the visible discomfort crossing the young man’s face. “Do you know this guy?” Yoongi questions, pointing a thumb at the man.
Jeongguk wraps his arms tighter around him. “He’s…my manager,” Jeongguk mutters. “I’m…I’m trying to get back out there. I really love acting, but I just haven’t been able to get really any roles and—”
Jeongguk’s manager starts obnoxiously honking his horn. “Come on!!” he yells. “We got an appointment at the nightclub!”
Jeongguk hiccups a noise of embarrassment, face turning red. He pulls his windbreaker tighter around him, like he just wants to curl up and hide away from the world. “I should go,” Jeongguk mutters, not to anyone in particular, before briskly walking over to the car.
As he passes the driver’s side to get into the passenger’s seat, the manager reaches a large hand out and smacks Jeongguk right on the ass. Jeongguk freezes and the man laughs. “Come on, you got some people that are waiting to see that servant dance of yours,” he says, looking over at Namjoon and Yoongi standing and watching.
He reaches down and pulls out a flier, handing it to Yoongi while Jeongguk quietly gets into the car. “You guys should come see him! Tickets are 40,000 won, you can get yourself a nice drink, and enjoy some sexy space dancers.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Plus, there might be some extra incentives for a fee, if you catch my drift.”
Jeongguk pulls his windbreaker over his head. “Please can we go? ” Jeongguk quietly begs, Yoongi hearing the way his voice shakes. The manager scoffs at him, before flicking the flier onto the ground when Yoongi doesn’t dare take a step forward to grab it. The car peels away with an angry screech from the tires, speeding off into the streets and away from Yoongi and Namjoon.
Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Still has a piece of shit manager,” he says to himself. It’s not the same piece of shit manager that managed to shoehorn a spot on the show for Jeongguk and signed off on contracts that made Jeongguk obligated to be half-naked for almost the entire episode every episode, but this guy honestly seems no better.
He looks over at Namjoon, approaching the man as Namjoon stares at the ground with his hands clenched into fists. The roll of schematics is tucked carefully under Namjoon’s armpit. Yoongi takes it from him, then runs a hand lightly over Namjoon’s bicep.
“You alright, big guy?” Yoongi asks.
Namjoon clenches his jaw, eyebrows turning down, frustrated. “I messed up again,” he mumbles.
“It’s alright. You’ll see him tomorrow. You can tell him your feelings then—”
“But I always mess up,” Namjoon says. “We see each other every few years at conventions, and every time I try to tell him how I feel about him…how I’ve always felt about him…I just…my mind goes blank .” His shoulders relax, defeated. “I’m such a joke. Fifteen years later and I still can’t tell him,” Namjoon says with a huff.
Yoongi sighs, taking his hand to Namjoon’s back. “Come on, I’ll drive you home—”
“Ah, no. It’s okay, hyung. I can take the train—”
“I’m not letting you get on a train with that on your head,” Yoongi says, giving a pointed stare at the tentacle wig. “Plus, we can talk more. It’s alright, Namjoon-ah.”
Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek, shamefully looking at the ground. “…Do you think he’d even be into me like that? I’m…I’m not like the guys that he usually dates…”
“Yeah? He usually dates pieces of shit, so it’s a good thing you’re not like them,” Yoongi corrects, steering Namjoon towards his car. It’s a rundown Subaru with the paint peeling off the bumper, but it’s gotten Yoongi around for the last fifteen years since he bought it with his last decent paycheck. It’s his own personal spacecraft to commandeer, not flashy like the S.S. Wooteo was, but still just as magical to Yoongi.
Namjoon slides into the passenger seat, knees tucked up and close. Yoongi gets in the driver’s seat and switches on some easy listening tunes while he puts the car in drive. As he’s pulling out of the parking lot, Yoongi’s phone goes off with a buzzing notification. Yoongi looks down at where he placed his phone into one of his cup holders, staring at Seokjin’s name at the top of his screen paired with a message.
Kim Seokjin [6:25 pm]: r u still coming over?
Seokjin sends another message right after the first one: come over.
Yoongi breathes hard through his nose, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Namjoon’s eyes briefly flicker to Yoongi’s phone, glancing at the text messages from Seokjin before the screen falls asleep. Namjoon then looks at Yoongi, eyes curious.
“Are you planning to go?” asks Namjoon.
Yoongi squares his jaw, grip on the steering wheel tight. “I have to get his signature, don’t I?” Yoongi asks, and he turns up the radio before Namjoon can give him an answer.
It’s just to get a signature, Yoongi tells himself as he parks his car in the visitor parking space of Seokjin’s apartment building. Namjoon is home at his apartment, trying to draft up a script to confess his feelings for Jeongguk because if there’s one thing Namjoon was always good at, it was remembering his lines. Yoongi told Namjoon (and himself) that he’d just go to Seokjin’s apartment and grab the signature before heading home. They’d promise each other that they’d get to the supermarket early for the opening, so that way they can leave earlier too after signing whatever amount of signatures needed.
Yoongi doubts they’d get a high turnout of people. What TV show fan would be at a supermarket opening for an autograph?
Sighing under his breath, Yoongi walks over to the door entry, phone in his hand as he opens up the text conversation with Seokjin.
Me [7:54 pm]: I’m here
Kim Seokjin [7:54 pm]: It’s unlocked
Kim Seokjin [7:54 pm]: 22nd fl door 2
Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek.
Me [7:55 pm]: I know
Seokjin doesn’t respond, but Yoongi didn’t expect him to.
The elevator ride up to Seokjin’s floor is spent thinking. Yoongi thinks a lot when he’s stressed, to the point that thinking about things makes him even more stressed and his brain has a hard time shutting the fuck up. He thinks about finances, about where is he going to find more work, about the kind of lifestyle he’s living now compared to when he first was starting out and thought he was going to make something of himself.
He thinks about Seokjin, about the way their arms used to brush against each other when they were on set, about all the silly little fantasies that made Yoongi’s heart race every time they looked at each other. He thinks about the way Seokjin used to touch him and meant it. He thinks about the way Seokjin used to be his and he used to be Seokjin’s.
The back of Yoongi’s head rests lightly against the walls of the elevator. He stares up at the fluorescent lights above until the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open with a ding.
There are two suites per floor, and Yoongi already knows which suite out of the two belongs to Seokjin. When he approaches the second door and gives the door handle a test shake, he finds that Seokjin has it unlocked just like he said. He opens the door easily, peering into the entryway and down the hall where Yoongi thinks he sees the flickering light of a television screen.
“Seokjin-ssi?” Yoongi calls out, taking off his shoes and helping himself to a pair of slippers Seokjin has in the wooden sideboard. He walks down the hallway towards the flickering light, rounding the corner and entering Seokjin’s living room space. He sees Seokjin slumped on his couch, only in a shirt and his underwear. Yoongi averts his gaze out of surprise, but looks back when he hears Seokjin mumble a ‘hey’ through his hands.
Seokjin’s eyes find Yoongi’s, and for a brief moment, they stare at each other, neither one saying or doing much of anything. Then, a curve of a small smile traces over Seokjin’s lips.
“You came,” he says, sounding small.
Yoongi pretends Seokjin’s voice didn’t make his stomach flop around in his abdomen. “You told me to,” Yoongi points out. He gestures with the schematics. “Plus, I need your signature.”
Seokjin pats the spot next to him on the loveseat. Yoongi clenches his jaw. “I’m not staying.”
“Please?” Seokjin asks. In the dim lighting, Yoongi can see there’s a flush of red that covers Seokjin’s cheeks and moves down his bare neck, disappearing into the wrinkled collar of his oversized T-shirt. The print on Seokjin’s chest is faded, but Yoongi can still recognize the logo of the S.S. Wooteo.
Seokjin gestures to the coffee table, where there are (several) beer bottles and half opened bags of potato chips and dried seaweed. An open tin of honey roasted cashews rests near a half folded open magazine. Underneath the magazine, there are envelopes, fan letters, some opened and others not.
“It’s not the most appetizing spread,” Seokjin says with a chuckle, popping a few cashews into his mouth, “but I think I make good company.”
“You shouldn’t be getting drunk when you have to wake up early like the rest of us to get to the supermarket opening on time,” Yoongi chastises. Seokjin rubs his face, holding his hand over his mouth as he blankly stares across from him at the television screen. Yoongi looks over at it too, surprised to find that Seokjin is watching an episode of Mikrokosmos.
“This is my favorite one,” Seokjin says when he catches Yoongi watching the show. He points a finger at the screen, smiling warmly. “Commander Park and Lieutenant Kwon getting lost together on a foreign planet, surrounded by nothing but the beautiful landscape of evergreen trees and luscious man-eating flowers.”
Yoongi remembers that episode. He remembers how none of the plastic flowers on set had a scent even though he had to act like they smelled like roses. He remembers the itchy ‘forest floor’ against his bare palms whenever he sat down. He remembers the way how Seokjin lost his shirt after wrestling with a man-eating plant that was actually an elaborate puppet being operated by five different people, and Yoongi was so distracted by it that he flubbed his lines and needed multiple takes to finish just one scene.
But he’s not here to reminisce. He’s here to get a damn signature.
“Do you have a pen?” Yoongi asks, offering the schematics. When Seokjin doesn’t take them, Yoongi puts them on the coffee table over the unopened bag of chips. Wordlessly, Yoongi goes to Seokjin’s kitchen and pulls open the first drawer next to the sink. He grabs a Sharpie, then has a brief moment to feel embarrassed that he still remembers the contents of Seokjin’s kitchen after all this time.
Walking back to the living room, Yoongi tosses the Sharpie over onto the table in front of Seokjin, who lets it roll onto the ground in between his feet. “When you’re done signing, go to bed. We all want to leave on time so you have to be there on time.”
Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “What is this for again?” he asks.
“The supermarket— ”
“Not that.” Seokjin picks up the schematics and waves it. Yoongi sighs.
“I’m trying to make a better memory for that kid you screamed at by having all of us sign his little schematic,” Yoongi explains, shoving his hands into his pockets. Seokjin gives a dry laugh, grabbing one of the beer bottles and bringing the mouth to his lips for a long sip.
“He could sell this online, you know,” Seokjin theorizes, swallowing down another mouthful. Some of it dribbles down his chin, and he curses to himself before bringing the bottom of his shirt to wipe his mouth dry.
“I don’t care if he pawns it off once he gets it back. The point is that he’s a fan and I’m trying to do what I can to make sure he goes home happy and not shaking like a leaf because you decided to be an asshole.”
Seokjin is quiet, his glazed eyes looking at the television screen. There’s a brief pause, no words exchanged between the two of them in the present, but on the television, Commander Park is in the middle of a monologue.
“This world is beautiful, Lieutenant. Did you know that there is not one genus of flower here that exists on Earth? How unique it is that life can exist in such different forms than what we are familiar with.”
Commander Park tilts his head up to look at the sky. On set, Yoongi knows Seokjin was looking straight at the searing hot stage lights overhead. “Do you think, somewhere in the galaxy, there exists a being that’s like me? Or like you or Seonghwa or Doc? How different would they be from us? Or would there be any connection to us other than our face? Would they feel the same as us? Would they laugh or cry like us? Would they love like us?”
Seokjin’s lips are quietly moving along, reciting every word spoken behind the mouth of the beer bottle.
“I’d like to think so, Commander,” says Lieutenant Kwon. Yoongi’s voice was so quiet on set, so subdued. They had to always bring the microphone in close just to make sure his lines were audible for mixing. “I’d like to think that every iteration of me that could exist, in every possible reality, would love you with the same admiration that burns within my chest.”
Yoongi coughs, feeling embarrassed for his past self for saying that line. Maybe even a little embarrassed now from hearing that line after so long.
“You were so cute back then,” Seokjin says, chuckling to himself. “You still are, but back then? You were so cute, Yoongi-yah.”
“The signature,” Yoongi reminds. Seokjin takes another sip of his beer.
“Right…yeah, okay…come sit first and then I’ll sign it.”
“I’m not playing games with you—”
“I just want to have some time with you. It’s been a long time,” Seokjin slurs, rubbing his face, holding his hand over his eyes. Yoongi’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. After a beat, Yoongi walks over and sits next to Seokjin, keeping his tense hands resting on his thighs. Seokjin bends down and grabs the Sharpie from off the floor, carefully unfolding the schematic and squinting at the signatures already there.
“Jeongguk and Namjoon signed it already, hmm?” Seokjin asks.
“Jeongguk will finish up tomorrow, but yeah, they signed it,” Yoongi explains.
“Mmm.” Seokjin chuckles. “Do you think this time around Namjoon will tell Jeongguk how he feels?”
Yoongi hopes so. It feels like it’s no longer a secret amongst the cast how deeply Namjoon feels for the cadet. It’s starting to get a little pathetic.
“He’s working on it,” Yoongi says. “Going to practice his confession like he’s going over a script.”
Seokjin nods. “He never did miss his line.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi rubs his hands over his lap awkwardly. He eyes an unopened beer bottle on the table, watching the condensation run down the green neck in quick rivulets.
“The kid’s gonna love this,” Seokjin mumbles, clumsily signing his name in the center, large and obnoxious. Yoongi doesn’t comment on how ugly the signature is, and he waits as Seokjin begins to doodle small stars and planets around his name. “…I’m a fucking loser, aren’t I?” Seokjin asks, out of the blue.
Yoongi pauses. “…What do you mean?”
Seokjin draws a planet, then starts drawing several rings around it. “I heard it in the bathroom at the convention. Don’t know who those guys were at the urinals, but they weren’t fans. They…they said stuff…and it just made me feel like shit.”
“…Stuff like you being a ‘fucking loser’?”
Seokjin nods, drawing more stars. “Me being a ‘fucking loser’…you all hating me…I have nothing going for me except for this show, and I’m a washed up, egomaniac that’s probably going to die a fucking loser that thinks he’s still a hero.”
Yoongi is quiet. Seokjin doesn’t say anymore, continuing to draw stars and constellations around his name and around Namjoon and Jeongguk’s signatures as well. The show plays on as background noise, sounds of the jungle and the crunch of leaves under the footprints of Kwon and Park.
When Yoongi opens his mouth, he’s surprised at how quiet he sounds. “You’re not anything they said you were,” Yoongi says. “You love your fans and you love this show and that’s all that matters, okay?”
Seokjin laughs under his breath. “And do you love me?” he asks.
Yoongi’s palms begin to sweat. He looks down at his feet. “I care about you,” Yoongi says. “ We all care about you.”
“You care if I show up so that you guys get paid what you’re supposed to for the ‘full cast appearance’,” Seokjin responds back, not biting or malicious, just tired. It somehow hurts more than if Seokjin would have screamed it in Yoongi’s face.
Seokjin puts the Sharpie down and finishes off his bottle, holding the liquid in his mouth before he swallows it in an audible gulp. He sets the bottle down, and Yoongi now can distinguish better the bottles that are finished versus the ones still waiting to be grabbed. One, two, three, four, five, six, jesus .
“You need to stop,” Yoongi says, blocking Seokjin’s hand from grabbing another. “Regardless of what some shitheads said, it isn’t worth it to get apocalyptic drunk. You’re Kim Seokjin, you live in a fancy hi-rise apartment, millions of people love you, and your face gets to play on everyone’s tv. What else do you want?”
Seokjin scoffs, pushing Yoongi’s hand down to reach over and grab another bottle anyways. “I just…I just want to have something… bigger than me to look forward to. This—” he gestures at the tv, at Commander Park and Lieutenant Kwon sitting together and looking at a CGI sky of stars— “this is all I have. Isn’t that kind of pathetic?”
Yoongi says nothing. Seokjin takes another sip of alcohol, setting it down accidentally on top of the schematics. “Aish,” Yoongi curses, moving the bottle away before a ring of condensation could form. He looks at Seokjin’s large, ugly signature surrounded by stars and planets and small rockets, before rolling the schematics up and placing them back in the tube.
“You’re going now?” Seokjin asks the ground.
“We have the supermarket opening in the morning. I need to sleep,” Yoongi argues, the fight in him gone from his chest. He lingers beside Seokjin, looking at the man’s tired droop of his eyes. “You need to go to sleep too—”
“Wanna finish the episode,” Seokjin slurs, one hand to his forehead as he tries to push his head up to watch it. “‘S my favorite.”
“It’ll come on some other time,” Yoongi reasons.
“It’s the DVD,” Seokjin corrects.
“Then all the more reason for you to pause it and go to bed,” Yoongi argues back.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Seokjin mumbles.
Yoongi hesitates and Seokjin tilts his head to look at Yoongi, eyes glassy and bloodshot, cheeks flushed red with humility. “Do you still love me, Yoongi-yah?” Seokjin asks again, voice a whisper.
There are voices in Yoongi’s head, conflicting and arguing back and forth till the sound is a buzz that echoes in his ears. Seokjin’s other hand curls lightly around Yoongi’s wrist, his thumb tracing stars against the back of Yoongi’s hand. The buzz gets louder, harder to ignore, harder to overcome the sound of Yoongi’s heartbeat pulsing in his brain.
“You’re drunk,” Yoongi says, turning his gaze to the floor. “You’re saying things and—”
Seokjin’s hand comes to hold Yoongi’s face and turns it back towards him. Suddenly, he’s closer to Yoongi, close enough to bring their foreheads together, for Yoongi to taste Seokjin’s breath in his mouth. Yoongi sees himself reflected in Seokjin’s eyes. He sees his own lips parting without his permission, just before Seokjin’s eyes fall closed and Yoongi’s tongue slips carefully past Seokjin’s chapped lips.
They’ve kissed like this once before. Yoongi remembers every detail of that night. It was a Thursday evening, it was raining, and they were both drunk and alone at Seokjin’s apartment. Seokjin was laughing at a magazine that had both of them on the cover, masks on and hands intertwined, just trying to go for a walk in the park. Yoongi didn’t think it was as funny as Seokjin made it seem, and he found it even more frustrating to see smaller photos of Seokjin taking walks with other actors and actresses from his new projects, looking just as intimately close and familiar with someone that probably didn’t even know Seokjin for as long as Yoongi knew him.
But there they were, young and with the whole world in front of them, Seokjin on their arms and his smiling eyes turned their way instead of at the cameras capturing them. ‘Commander Kim Seokjin: The Fictional Casanova Jumps to Reality! How Many Suitors Does he Have? Pg. 34’
“It’s nothing serious,” Seokjin told Yoongi, attempting to kiss the frown off Yoongi’s lips, to pull his frustration from his chest with a sigh as Seokjin slipped his hand between Yoongi’s legs. “You’ve always been my light, Yoongi-yah. You don’t have to worry about us fading out.”
And Yoongi had been so stupid back then. He’s had a crush on Seokjin for years, just as long as Namjoon’s crush on Jeongguk. He had wanted Seokjin and the moment Seokjin gave a sign he wanted him back, Yoongi had fallen hard. They kissed and kissed and Seokjin made Yoongi come until Yoongi felt every pore of his body itch with uncontrollable pleasure, until his fingernails made their own constellations against the skin of Seokjin’s broad back.
And after everything they did that night, Yoongi remembered lazily walking to the bathroom just to freshen up, still wanting to keep the smell of Seokjin on his skin, the taste of him in his mouth. He remembered standing at the bathroom sink in Seokjin’s apartment, looking down to throw away a piece of tissue for his nose, and seeing in the wastebasket a pair of ripped, balled up, black lace panties that neither of them wore.
Seokjin’s teeth clumsily graze against Yoongi’s bottom lip, bringing him back to the present, back to the mistake he’s repeating. His hands push Seokjin away by his shoulders, fighting away the urge for his fingers to dig into the fabric of Seokjin’s wrinkled shirt and pull him back in. Seokjin blinks, confused. His hands go to hold Yoongi’s waist and Yoongi immediately pushes them away.
“I have to go,” Yoongi mutters, grabbing the schematics and getting up quickly from the couch. His head goes dizzy when he stands, catching himself before he could fall onto the coffee table or worse, fall right back into Seokjin’s lap. Yoongi keeps his head down as he walks speedily to the hallway. “See you tomorrow,” he grunts, not hearing an answer and not waiting for it to come.
Yoongi arrives at his apartment thirty minutes after leaving Seokjin’s, heading straight to bed the moment he closes the door and takes his shoes off. He doesn’t fall asleep until another hour passes, mind still abuzz with thoughts of Seokjin, his lips still warm.