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And if you were with me tonight, I’d sing to you just one more time…
When Jungkook couldn’t cry anymore, he got up and went to the closet, ripping all of Namjoon’s clothes down from their hangers, throwing them in the middle of his room. Their room. He curled up on top of the pile, and it smelled like Namjoon’s stupid, expensive cologne. Jungkook buried his face in a shirt, too aware that the scent would fade away soon. When was the last time he’d sung to Namjoon, just the two of them? A few months ago in the studio, he remembered, and they’d argued. Namjoon had wanted Jungkook’s solo album to be perfect, and Jungkook had just been…tired. He was exhausted, now, but if Namjoon had asked him to sing the same line a thousand times tonight, Jungkook would, just to have him back.
He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, eyes open only so he didn’t see Namjoon’s face etched on the backs of his eyelids. Finally, there was a soft knock on the door. Jungkook didn’t move, couldn’t move, but he managed a weak, “Yeah?” Long, silent seconds passed before the door opened halfway, enough for him to pick his aching head up and see the remaining members of Bangtan standing there, as destroyed as he was. The remaining. The thought hit him hard, and he collapsed back to the floor, trying like hell not too sob too loud.
Slowly, carefully, because any of them could break at any moment and they all knew it, his five brothers joined him in the middle of the floor, on top of Namjoon’s clothes. Jungkook almost laughed. Namjoon would be so mad if… He swallowed hard, unwilling to finish the sentence even in his mind. He sat up again, and Hoseok laid his head in Jungkook’s lap, sniffling, fresh tears in his eyes. Was it really fair to call them fresh when they just seemed neverending? Yoongi was clinging to Jimin, and Jin had Taehyung wrapped up in a sideways bear hug. No one said anything for a minute, then Hoseok whispered brokenly, “What do we do, Kookie?”
Jungkook snorted, but it sounded like a whimper. No one called him out for it. He sighed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Why are you asking me?” There was no bite in the words, just exhaustion.
Hoseok sat up slowly, looking at Jungkook with wide, red-rimmed eyes. “I just…we always thought…and Namjoon said…” Jungkook blinked at him.
Jin spoke up, his chin resting on Taehyung’s head. “He always told us that if anything ever happened and he…couldn’t… That you would be the best choice…for leader.”
Jungkook felt like he was choking. He couldn’t breathe. Getting the news, the funeral, the burial, he had cried through all of it in the past weeks, but nothing had hurt as much as Jin’s words. He had never known Namjoon felt that way or thought he was good enough to take his place, a place he never imagined would be empty. Jungkook had always just tried to be good enough, as good as the rest of them. But the rest knew about this and…wanted to follow him?
Jungkook didn’t realize how hysterical his sobs were until Hoseok’s arms were around him, pulling him back down, and then Taehyung clung to his back and Jimin put their faces close together. Yoongi and Jin didn’t have much choice but to pile on top of the other boys, so they did. The puppy pile, they’d always called it. Homesick, sad, angry–the puppy pile always helped. Jungkook took as deep a breath as he could with five other bodies weighing him down. Cautiously, he reached an arm out to the spot where Namjoon’s gangly limbs always ended up in the pile. There was an empty space there. Even pressed close together, they’d left it, and whether it was purposeful or not, it felt right.
There’s no one in town I know, you gave us someplace to go, I never said thank you for that, thought I might get one more chance…
Jungkook couldn’t remember much about the day he moved into the dorm and met the other members of Bangtan. It was so long ago, so many years now. But he would never forget Namjoon’s smile. The older boy was so warm, and Jungkook had felt safe, knowing this was their leader. The glue that held them together. He hadn’t dared to imagine a world without that bright smile, and he didn’t know how to live in it now. How many nights had he woken up, crying and homesick, and Namjoon had been there to comfort him?
Somewhere between their move to their second dorm and their lives as fully-fledged adults, he and Namjoon had bonded. Given the chance to change, they still chose each other as roommates with every move. Jungkook’s best friends would always be the maknae line, but his more serious endeavors had always involved Namjoon. He was the one to advise him not to put off university and about which classes to take. And Namjoon had been the one he’d quietly asked to go with him to get his first tattoo. Namjoon had been surprisingly compassionate, though his philosophical discourses on impermanence did little to distract Jungkook from the pain.
At every turn, Namjoon had been there for all of them, guiding them to be the best versions of themselves. To be larger and more profound than the sum of their collective parts. And he did it so effortlessly. Jungkook could count on one hand the times Namjoon’d had to pull out his Leader Voice and put his foot down about something. He just had this way of making them believe. With him as their leader, they were invincible, truly their namesake–Bulletproof. And Namjoon was their shield. Always strong, and calm, and constant, happy to stand in the back while the others shone. Jungkook trusted him with his deepest fears and secrets, and Namjoon had never let him down.
And yet, two small words had never left Jungkook’s lips. Thank you. Thank you. He wanted to scream them, to hope that Namjoon could hear them, wherever he was.
So what would you think of me now? So lucky, so strong, so proud?
Jungkook couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. It was never supposed to be like this. Going solo had been Namjoon’s idea. He’d pushed and prodded and stretched Jungkook until Namjoon determined he was ready. But he wasn’t ready, not to do it without him. Even when Namjoon had been there, Jungkook never expected it to get as far as his own solo concert. But with Bangtan not performing right now, so soon after losing their leader, BigHit needed something. And Jungkook was it. But how the hell was he supposed to sing right now? When the thing he wanted most in the world was to curl up in Namjoon’s hoodie and sob. Well, the thing he wanted second most in the world. Because he couldn’t have the first.
But Namjoon hadn’t named him the Golden Maknae for nothing. Jungkook plastered a smile on his face and launched his body up the stairs to the stage. The next hour and a half was a blur of noise and dance and the screams of the crowd. He was grateful for his members, standing right behind the curtain, beaming with pride. He only wished there were six instead of five.
Standing at the edge of the stage at the end of his encore, he felt a fire in his chest. It was a strange kind of pain. He had made it; the crowd loved him. Not Jungkook of Bangtan but just…Jungkook. And yet, he wanted to give it back. The price was too high. If Namjoon couldn’t be here to see it, was it worth it at all?
He mulled this over as the lights went down and he made his way off stage. Five bodies slammed into his, screaming congratulations and patting any part of him that they could reach. In each face, he saw reflected exactly what he was feeling, such conflicted joy. The hollers faded to murmurs and the crush morphed into simply holding one another. No one said his name, but it was the only thing on their minds.
May angels lead you in, hear you me my friends…
Jungkook couldn’t say how long he’d been sitting on the roof. This had been where Namjoon could always find him when something was wrong, and they would stay up there until Namjoon had helped him sort his thoughts out. He stared up at the sky resolutely. Behind him, the window opened. He didn’t look to see who it was, didn’t have to. Taehyung and Jimin joined him silently. They watched the stars quietly, bodies shoved close together for comfort. Jungkook had never liked skinship too much, but he needed it right now. Finally, Jimin spoke up.
“When I was little, my mom used to tell me that stars were people who aren’t here anymore,” he said softly, his voice breaking on the last few words. Jungkook made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
Taehyung pointed at a star that was brighter, more shining than the others. “That’s him. That’s Namjoon.” Jimin snorted.
“That’s Venus, you idiot.”
Jungkook punched him lightly on the arm. “No, Tae’s right. He’s up there somewhere.” They were all silent for a long time.
“Do you think we’ll ever…” Jimin started, and the other two knew what he couldn’t ask.
“Yeah, he’s waiting for us,” Jungkook said, sniffling. “He had to go first, to make sure it was good enough for the rest of us.”
A song for a heart so big, God wouldn’t let it live…
Jungkook couldn’t wait any longer. The crowd on the other side of the curtain was growing restless, ecstatic for their return after so many months on hiatus. The six stood in a tight circle backstage, alone for the first time all evening. Jungkook looked them each in the eye in turn, still feeling inadequate as their leader.
“Last chance,” he said seriously. “I mean it. Anyone wants to bail, we do it. No hard feelings.” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Because once we come off that stage tonight, we’re not Bangtan anymore.” Each one shook their heads, though many had tears in their eyes.
“We’ve made our decision,” Yoongi said, glancing around the circle. It had taken weeks of awful conversations, of frustrated tears in the studio, of long nights in the dorm living room before they had all come to the same conclusion. “We can’t be Bangtan without him.”
“Okay,” Jungkook said, taking a deep breath. “Then we leave it all on the stage tonight. We do it for him and we do it for us. Let’s go.”
Their usual flashy entrance had been altered tonight. Instead, the six of them simply walked across the dark stage, into a pool of soft light where there were stools set up. Seven stools. Jungkook carried Namjoon’s favorite pair of red Converse, cradling them in his arms gently, and placed them on the empty stool in the middle. The crowd was quiet, almost reverent. They understood what was happening and why. He looked down at the identical pairs of shoes that were on all of their feet, a fitting tribute.
The audience was still hushed as the six of them sat, glancing at each other nervously. Finally, Jimin pulled a smile onto his face and whispered for only them to hear, “For Namjoon.” He held up the microphone and began to sing, his voice strong and clear. They had rearranged “We Are Bulletproof, Pt. 2” for this concert, and the beginning was acapella. They hadn’t sung it in ages, though it was a crowd favorite, because their newer songs kept pushing it off the set list.
Jimin made it through his part, and the vocal line came in after him to finish the chorus. Jungkook’s heart was in his throat. They stood as one, and the track started behind them, the original version of the song playing now. As Namjoon’s rap tripped and slipped and slid off Jungkook’s tongue, he felt as if he could never do it justice. The shoes were too big.
He was grateful when he could return to singing, though in all honesty, every word of the song belonged to Namjoon. It didn’t really help when they shifted to other songs either. They had each taken a greater role in composing in recent years, but Namjoon’s fingerprints were all over everything. A turn of phrase in Tae’s newest effort, a rhythmic repetition on Hoseok’s first track, even Suga’s music felt like it was a close cousin to Namjoon’s best work.
When they were partway through the set list, Jungkook looked out into the sea of faces, and he could see the pain as well as the joy that was undoubtedly on his own face mirrored back at him. This was where they would usually introduce themselves. But not tonight. And never again. Jungkook moved to the front of the stage, squinting a little when a blinding spotlight followed him. The rest of Bangtan sat behind him quietly as he took a deep breath and began to speak.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Jeon Jungkook.” The familiar cheers rose up, although they were more subdued tonight. “You all know why we’re here tonight. We’re here because of one person, one person who…” Jungkook swallowed hard, staring at his feet. “Who couldn’t be here.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Hoseok swipe at his own tears. Jungkook forced himself to go on. “He can’t be here anymore, and so…we can’t be Bangtan anymore.” He felt the gasps in his bones. “Bangtan was the seven of us. Now we’re six. So I need…I need to tell you…” Jungkook started to cry, lowering the microphone to his chest. He wasn’t even sure what to say next.
Silently, Jimin and Taehyung came to stand behind him, Jimin taking his hand and squeezing it. Jin followed, standing on Jimin’s other side, one hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, and Yoongi and Hoseok moved closer to Taehyung. Jungkook collected himself and looked up again, his vision blurred with tears.
“This is our last concert as Bangtan Sonyeondan.”
Silence fell over the crowd, and Jungkook felt desperate to comfort everyone, comfort himself.
“But please…let’s not be sad. ARMYs have always made us happy. You made Namjoon so happy, every day. Let’s be happy, for him. He’s watching us…” Jungkook trailed off, looking through the ceiling, trying to picture Namjoon’s star. “He’s here on this stage, where he loved to be.” His next breath was more of a sigh, filled with the permanence of what he was saying.
“Please be with us tonight, and let’s all have fun. Thank you for everything. We’ll never forget you.” The tears came again. Jungkook held his microphone out to the side desperately, needing someone to take the burden away. To take everything about this away. A hand reached out and grabbed it, and Yoongi’s voice sounded a million miles away.
“We love ARMY. Always. Thank you for making our lives.”
On sleepless roads the sleepless go…
Jungkook couldn’t be bothered to change before he fell onto his bed that night, drifting to sleep still wearing his stage clothes, his feet dangling off the end of the bed clad in red Converse. He didn’t remember his dreams, but he knew Namjoon was in them. When he woke up, he could feel the words he had scribbled onto the soles of the shoes as if they were tattooed on the bottom of his feet. He would walk with them from now on. Jungkook slipped the shoes off carefully and stared at the tops of his bare feet for a long moment. No longer seven… He set the shoes on his desk upside down so he could see what he’d written.
On the left shoe, Namjoon. On the right, Bangtan.