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"What the hell, hyung?" Jeongguk grumbled, eyeing the carton of juice sitting next to his plate.
"What?" Seokjin asked, his tone feigned innocence as he set down the last plate at the dinner table.
"You know what," Jeongguk said, flicking the juice box with his finger. "Everyone else gets beer. Why do I get juice?"
Seokjin sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You know why, Jeongguk-ah. You're still too young for that stuff."
The room fell silent as the tension grew thicker than the sauce on their noodles. The other members of BTS exchanged knowing glances, aware of the unspoken frustration that had been simmering between the two for some time now. Jeongguk's jaw clenched as he stared at the juice, feeling the weight of Seokjin's overprotectiveness pressing down on him like an unwelcome blanket. He was twenty-four, not a teenager anymore, but Seokjin still treated him like he was sixteen. It was suffocating.
As the rest of the group tucked into their meals, the silence at Jeongguk's end of the table grew deafening. He could feel the eyes on him, the anticipation of a scene, but he kept his cool, pushing the juice aside.
"Hyung," Jeongguk began, his voice measured and calm. "I'm not a kid anymore."
Seokjin's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he took a sip of his beer. "I know that, Jeongguk-ah," he said gently. "But you're still my maknae. I just want to look out for you."
The words stung more than Jeongguk cared to admit. Seokjin had always been the protective one, the reliable older brother figure in the group, but it had been years since Jeongguk had needed looking after. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the heat rising in his chest.
"But I can handle it," Jeongguk insisted, his voice firm. "I've been living on my own for a while now, making my own choices."
Seokjin's gaze softened, his eyes searching Jeongguk's. "I know you can," he said. "But it's just... habit, I guess."
The conversation hovered on the edge of something deeper, something unspoken, but Jeongguk didn't know how to cross that line. He just knew that he was tired of being treated differently, of being the only one who didn't get to be an adult in Seokjin's eyes. He stared at the juice, contemplating his next move.
---
The juice box seemed to mock him, a vivid reminder of the childhood he had long outgrown. Jeongguk's hand hovered over it, his frustration boiling over. Before he could stop himself, he flung the carton across the room, the sound of it smacking against the wall echoing through the tense silence.
"I'm not a kid!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the force of his emotions. The room froze as the juice trickled down the paint, leaving a sticky trail. "I'm not your responsibility anymore!"
Seokjin's eyes widened, his hand paused mid-sip. He set the bottle down carefully, the clink against the table sounding like a gunshot in the quiet. Slowly, he stood up, his eyes never leaving Jeongguk's.
"Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "That I'm only looking out for you because I feel responsible?"
The room held its breath as the oldest member of the group approached the youngest. Jeongguk felt a pang of guilt, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize, not yet. Seokjin stopped right in front of him, looking down with a mix of sadness and confusion.
"You're not a kid," Seokjin said, his voice shaking slightly. "But you'll always be my maknae. That's not about keeping you safe or taking care of you. It's about... it's about loving you."
The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. Jeongguk's eyes darted around the room, seeing the concern etched on the faces of his bandmates. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain that he wasn't mad at Seokjin, just tired of feeling like he wasn't good enough, like he hadn't earned his place as an adult in their family.
Seokjin turned away, his shoulders heaving. He couldn't hold it in anymore. Without a word, he retreated to his room, the door closing softly behind him. The others looked at Jeongguk with a mix of pity and accusation, but he ignored them, his heart racing. He knew he had gone too far.
The hallway was quiet as Jeongguk approached Seokjin's room. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He didn't know what to say, how to fix this. Finally, he took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
Seokjin was sitting on his bed, his back to the door. His shoulders were shaking, and the sound of his muffled sobs filled the space. Jeongguk's stomach twisted. He had never seen Seokjin like this, so vulnerable and broken. He took a tentative step forward, the plush carpet muffling his footsteps.
"Hyung?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Seokjin didn't move, but the sobs grew louder. Jeongguk felt his own eyes welling up as he approached the bed. He sat down carefully, not wanting to startle the older man. He reached out, his hand hovering over Seokjin's shoulder before finally making contact.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
Seokjin turned to face him, his eyes red and swollen. He looked so much older than his thirty-four years, so much weight on his shoulders. "It's not just about the juice," he choked out. "It's about... it's about not wanting to lose you."
---
Jeongguk's hand tightened on Seokjin's shoulder. "What do you mean?"
Seokjin took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm afraid," he admitted, his voice raw. "I'm afraid that if you grow up too much, if you don't need me to protect you, you won't need me at all."
The confession hit Jeongguk like a punch to the gut. He had never thought about it from Seokjin's perspective. He had been so focused on his own frustrations that he hadn't noticed the fear lurking in his hyung's eyes every time he talked about growing up, moving out, making his own decisions.
"Hyung," Jeongguk said, his voice shaking. "I'll always need you. You're not just my hyung, you're my friend, my family."
Seokjin leaned into the touch, his sobs slowing. "But what if you don't?" he whispered. "What if one day you realize that you don't need me anymore?"
Jeongguk wrapped his arms around Seokjin, pulling him into a tight embrace. "That day will never come," he assured him. "I'll always be here for you, just like you've always been here for me."
They sat there for a long time, the silence in the room now comforting rather than suffocating. Jeongguk realized that growing up wasn't about proving himself to Seokjin; it was about supporting each other as they navigated their ever-changing roles in the group and in life.
Seokjin's shoulders heaved as he buried his face in Jeongguk's shoulder, releasing the flood of emotions he had been holding back. The sound of his sobs was muffled against the fabric of Jeongguk's shirt, but the younger man felt the weight of them, the years of fear and love all coming to the surface.
"I'm sorry," Seokjin murmured, his voice muffled. "I just... I don't know how to let go."
Jeongguk held him tighter, his own eyes misting over. "You don't have to," he said. "But you do have to let me grow."
The words hung in the air, and Jeongguk felt Seokjin's body stiffen before he nodded, his grip around Jeongguk loosening slightly. They stayed like that for a while longer, the quiet soothing the sharp edges of their earlier argument.
---
When Seokjin finally pulled away, his face was a mess of tears and snot, but there was a newfound peace in his eyes. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, looking at Jeongguk with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "For understanding."
"You don't have to thank me," Jeongguk said, reaching for a tissue to gently wipe the remaining tears from Seokjin's cheeks. "We're family."
Seokjin's eyes searched Jeongguk's, looking for the truth in his words. "I know," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "But sometimes I forget that you guys don't need me to be the strong one all the time."
"We do need you," Jeongguk said, his voice firm. "But we need the real you, not just the person you think we want."
---
The conversation continued late into the night, the two of them talking about their fears and hopes, the pressures of growing up and the comfort of not having to do it alone. By the time they finally said their goodnights, the juice box was forgotten, a symbol of their past that no longer held the same power over them.
The house was quiet as Jeongguk made his way back to his own room, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. He knew that things would be different now, that their relationship had shifted in a way that was both scary and exciting.
---
The next day, Seokjin took Jeongguk out to dinner, just the two of them. He ordered a pint of beer for him without a second thought, and when it arrived, Jeongguk felt a strange sense of accomplishment. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to him.
As they ate and talked, the tension from the night before had dissipated, replaced by a newfound understanding. They were both adults now, navigating their place in the world together, but still with the love and support that had always been the foundation of their relationship.
---
In the weeks that followed, Seokjin made a conscious effort to treat Jeongguk as an equal, to trust in his judgment and give him the space he needed to grow. And Jeongguk, for his part, made sure to remind Seokjin that he was still there, still his maknae, still the same person he had always been.
The juice box incident had been a turning point, a moment of raw honesty that had brought them closer together. And as they sat at that dinner table, sipping their drinks and sharing a knowing smile, they knew that their bond was stronger than ever.