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Seokjin didn’t have to die.
Taehyung is only sorry to know now. No, sorry doesn’t do justice to his dead soul, and Taehyung is only incredibly livid that he’s only realized this fact after Seokjin is unhelpfully, dead.
He tries to imagine what Seokjin must doing at the moment; in the air, flying, no floating maybe, feeling non-existent, or perhaps dancing over the ocean where they had scattered him weeks ago.
Lying on the mattress, Taehyung covers the bright stream of sunlight that’s blinding his eyes. The photo is crumpled in his hand, the one of his sister and his dead father. Taehyung knows it's impossible to forget, like how he sometimes hallucinates blood running down his hands even after he's washed it thousands and thousands of times.
He breathes in, stopping for a long moment before exhaling again. The feeling of fullness in his lungs washes out, and Taehyung instinctively draws in another breath. The act is involuntary, automatic, because no matter what Taehyung tells himself, he wants to live. He wants to keep going and hold on to his life, no matter how shitty it is. His entire body continuously struggles to be reminded that he’s still breathing.
It’s all a fucking joke.
Taehyung’s had dreams before, where people die. They’re being chased after. They run, run as far as their tattered feet could take them, as far as their lungs could allow them. Through a vast green field they run and run without a destination, until there’s a pang of noise not too far off, the blast echoing into the distance in front of him. Taehyung’s head whips around but his legs are still running; and he sees Seokjin disappear from his view as he thuds onto the ground. It’s only a few stalling breaths later that Taehyung realizes that there is a hole through Seokjin’s stomach, and it jolts him awake from the vivid reality; a reality which had only been a dream.
A dream. lt's supposed to be unreal.
Yet he is slipped back into this unreal world every night and dreams of the same scenario more times than he can remember, except it’s not always the same person dying. Sometimes it’s Jimin, sometimes Hoseok, and the bullet takes his friends down, one by one. His scream sucking back into his throat, Taehyung wakes up to see all of them sleeping soundly on the couch, the bonfire still crackling in the center and flickering light onto his aghast, sweaty face.
It’s only when after Seokjin leaves forever that the oldest male is shot over and over in the dream, repeating reality, as if to mock him, to blame him. The dream tortures Taehyung, welcoming him at the end of every night, congratulating him for being alive and reminding him that Seokjin is dead.
The irony is that the dream isn’t unreal anymore.
He wakes up every night to the crackling sound of withering fire with nobody around, but just the shadows engulfing his boundaries.
Taehyung is brought back by the chirping of the birds and the soft breeze that caresses through his brown hair. It's too peaceful that it doesn't make sense.
Someone suddenly swoops in and shades him from the sun, blocking his view. And for a whole second, Taehyung sees Seokjin peering down at him and smiling. Taehyung’s eyelashes flutter a couple of times as his eyes widen, and he gives in to the mistake of blinking his eyes.
It’s Namjoon, offering him a hand.
There's a lump in his throat that's crawled up from the deepest part of his stomach that Taehyung wants to cough up.
He misses Seokjin so much.
Taehyung lifts himself up, long, overdue breaths huffing out of his mouth as he wipes the tears streaming down his face. Without a word, Namjoon just plants his hand on his shoulder. He sees a video camera sticking out of Namjoon's jean pocket and Taehyung buries his head into his knees.
Seokjin didn’t have to fucking die.
“I thought I told you not to pick up whatever the hell you find, Kim Namjoon.”
Yoongi’s voice is laced with more irritation than alarm, which is actually more disturbing to the rest, considering the fact that they have a stranger inside their hideout.
“Fuck, look, I didn’t mean to.”
Namjoon stutters, glaring at the man behind him, who’s taken an unsettling sense of comfort to him in the last twenty minutes to be actually clinging on to his back. Namjoon can say with confidence that he’s tried to shake the guy off, scare him to his wits, spitting profanities and telling him stories, even given him an aggressive push. But he’d never seen anyone more stubborn. It’s quite a wonder that he made it really, when Seokjin had screamed for his mother after tripping over a fucking tree root protruding from the ground. He looks absolutely frightened now, in which he rightfully should be, because they’re practically in the middle of nowhere with just a couch and a few folding chairs spread out on the bare ground, five guys huddled around a budding fire. Namjoon gives his shoulder a violent roll, but the man clutches to him even harder. Namjoon wonders, exactly which part of their encounter he’d given the man the impression to be so, for a lack of a better word, cozy.
“He claimed to be really concerned for Hoseok, and needed to see if he was okay.”
Or alive. Namjoon manages to swallow, before he accidentally vomits it out.
Hoseok frowns when he hears his name, his back lax against the couch and eyes hovering in the air before it gains some focus.
“Dr. Kim?”
He drawls, and Seokjin’s eyes light up as soon as his gaze lands on Hoseok. He rushes forwards, as if to have forgotten all about his fear, colour getting restored onto his cheeks. There is an unmistakable trace of relief over his face. Seokjin scans Hoseok’s sallow profile subtly, so that the sitting male isn’t under the notion that he’s being examined.
“Hoseok, how have you been?” He smiles, “And it’s Jin when we’re not in the hospital.”
“I’m great.” Hoseok slowly drags the corner of his mouth into a crooked grin. “As you can see.”
Seeing a stranger inside their area, which is solely supposed to be theirs, bothers Yoongi deeply. He regrets having agreed to send Hoseok to the hospital, but there really was no choice when the younger male drove himself to the edge of a cliff with his excessive drug doses. Jimin creeps up to him from behind, scrutinizing the stranger who is exchanging rather polite conversation with Hoseok. Yoongi finds contentment in that Jimin also seems to carry the same amount of dislike in his eyes (it's actually mere caution).
“He’s a doctor, hyung.” Jimin whispers, “You think he’ll report us?”
Yoongi’s scowl deepens, because he’s not really sure.
Which is why they all look like they’ve been whacked in the head with a baseball bat, when Seokjin clears his throat and makes an announcement a few hours later.
“I’m staying.”
The entire place falls quiet, the only noise being the creaking of the trailer container door, adding a certain amount of eeriness to the atmosphere. Seokjin doesn’t think they need the contribution. It’s madness, what probably goes on here, with six men living in conditions of what he could only describe as the open wild.
“And who’s making the decision?” Taehyung breaks the silence, with Yoongi's growl following close after.
“There never was an invitation, Dr. Smartass. Get the fuck out of here.”
Seokjin doesn’t even flinch. His legs are planted firm onto the gravel, his arms linked across his chest as if to make a point.
“Hoseok’s my patient. I think we can all agree on that he’s critically unstable right now.”
Seokjin speaks with conviction, his gaze skating towards the trailer to make sure Hoseok is fast asleep. “And I don’t think anything here can make him better. For the sake of his life, I’m not leaving.”
“This is our home.” Jungkook, who’d been picking at the fire all this time, throws his stick into the flame and stands up. He meets Seokjin’s eyes for the first time that day, his voice low and impassive. “And If I’m not mistaken, you’re fucking intruding.”
“Intruding?”
Seokjin doesn’t want to come off any ruder than he already is, but he can’t really help the laughter that slips off his lips.
“Pl ease, you people are in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even need a warrant to search whatever the hell is going on in this place.”
There’s aggressive teething and heated air huffing out of Yoongi’s throat, but he's forced to stop when Jimin lightly places his hands on his thighs.
“Alright,” The orange-haired boy looks up at Seokjin and smiles. “You can stay.”
Yoongi glares daggers at the source of all troubles. Namjoon recoils, edgy in his seat on the ragged couch. Seokjin looks genuinely surprised, because in all honesty, he’d been halfway regretting his actions and was bracing himself to be drugged, mugged, and abandoned somewhere in the middle of the woods. There’s an amused glint in Jimin’s eyes when he opens his mouth again.
“But can you run?”
Namjoon doesn’t understand because Seokjin makes it through. He’s here for a day, then a week, and soon Namjoon forgets to keep track. He has to ask Taehyung, and it’s almost been a month.
Hoseok, in the meantime, looks better than ever. Twirling a lollipop in his mouth, Namjoon notices Hoseok and Seokjin sitting on the ridge of the empty pool and chatting with Seokjin’s video camera out. It’s an occupational habit, according to the prim doctor, to film and record their sessions or conversations for later references. Yoongi says it’s bull, because Seokjin has the camera out all the time, which is pretty true. And better half of the time he’s filming them, them just fooling around, painting graffiti on the walls, sleeping under the sunlight, and dancing to the beat of their own laughter.
Seokjin doesn’t go home.
He’s out of breath. Seokjin feels like he can’t run anymore, but the guys are so fast, still full of energy. Their hollers are hyped, jumps pumping even higher. The leather jacket feels heavy over his shoulders, as if they’re weighing down on his insides and squeezing his lungs.
“Come on, Jin!”
Taehyung hits his back, bouncing ahead of him and Seokjin almost collapses right there and then. His sunglasses that were perched on top of his head rolls off onto the concrete, but Seokjin can’t find the strength to pick them up.
“What’s the matter, can’t keep up?”
Yoongi jeers, and Seokjin is almost thankful he can’t see the guy’s face, because he’s bent over on his knees and gasping for air.
“Fuck off,” He breathes, “I can’t believe I’m being chased for fucking stealing. Stealing, Jesus Christ, I’m a thief.”
“Well, we asked if you could run.” Yoongi’s voice is almost sparkling, and Seokjin just knows the asshole’s having the best time of his life. “And you nodded, loser. Or should I say, liar?”
Seokjin can’t even respond. He’s staring at his sleeves that he’s bent over on, posh blue with silver studs embedded in it and looking like it costs him his entire month’s salary (if he’s not fired from the hospital yet, that is). He hears a gradual crescendo of a siren, and muted yelling approaching from a distance. Seokjin starts panicking, but there’s this pang on his chest that pulls him down when he tries to straighten back up.
“Aw dude, looks like it’s the end for you, man.”
Yoongi winks, preparing himself to sprint and catch up with the others. Seokjin doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been on good terms with Min Yoongi after all, and he finally understands the phrase ‘karma is a bitch’, because he feels like he deserves it at this point.
Yoongi’s gone. Seokjin’s head is just ringing with his heartbeat, and he closes his eyes shut. The siren’s getting louder, and he senses that the cops will turn the corner any minute now.
“What in the actual fuck,”
Seokjin hears the familiar grumpy voice again, causing his eyelids to flit open. There’s a blur of mint-green in front of him, and his hands are violently snatched. Seokjin’s body involuntarily leaps forward and he’s running again, or more like getting dragged, but at least he’s going somewhere.
“Run, if you don’t want to screw your life over.”
He hears Yoongi grit and Seokjin’s not sure if he’s nodding or if his head is moving on its own. But he listens to Yoongi anyways.
“Whatever the hell you do, don't stop running.”
Seokjin gets the hang of running. He’s still slow though (we picked up a fucking koala, Yoongi grieves), and he’s "punished" by having them spray paint all over him. The smell is slightly dizzying, and as a doctor Seokjin should know what kind of affects it should have over him, but he decides to forget about it and drinks up the atmosphere instead. Taehyung vigorously shoves him back into the wall, and Jimin strips him of his newly acquired jacket (vintage denim, this time) just before Taehyung sprays a large black X across his chest. Seokjin tries to move, but he's pinned back against the wall everytime he tries to leave. With all the spray mist shooting up his nose, Seokjin wants to say stop, but he’s enjoying it at the same time so really, he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. The plastic cup of beer slips down his hands, and with a sly smile, Jimin replaces his empty hands with another booze.
The music is deafening, Hoseok’s yelling is even louder, and Seokjin chugs down the alcohol in order to get rid of the taste of paint in his sinus.
Apparently, the night has only begun. Because when Seokjin feels too nauseous to stand on his own two feet, he is given the task to drive the stolen truck.
“You’re too slow.” Taehyung smirks, “We'll toss you the accelerator. Maybe then you can keep up with us.”
It turns out Taehyung is right.
“Holy fuck, this is probably the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life!”
Seokjin is practically screaming, unable to contain the adrenaline rush that’s pumping through his veins. Namjoon is the last one to jump on, and he plops down on the passenger seat as the car still charges with irrational speed. Hoseok has his head popped out of the open roof, hooting and throwing his fist in the air. Jungkook is dangerously perched over the edge of the truck, snickering at the cars chasing after them and flipping them the finger. Jimin is laughing into Yoongi’s shoulder as the older male enjoys the feeling of wind penetrating through his body. Taehyung pokes his head next to the driver’s seat and grins.
“Nice. You can speed, hyung.”
Seokjin is stunned, having been referred to as “hyung”. With his knuckles white and glued to the steering wheel, he tries to side glance Taehyung but the younger male's already gone back. So he accidentally locks gazes with Namjoon instead. Namjoon looks a bit startled too, but the moment is gone as he eases back into his chair and nudges his chin forwards.
“Hey, look front.”
Seokjin’s head snaps back into place, but he somehow makes out Namjoon’s voice over the torpeding bellows of the wind.
“ Gotta watch where you’re going, hyung.”
“You know, Hobi hyung has never looked better.”
Jimin approaches one day, as Seokjin sits by the pond filming Jungkook and Taehyung come up with a new greeting dance.
“Mh-hm.”
Seokjin hums, chuckling when Yoongi boos and throws a stick towards the duo.
“His life’s not on the line anymore.”
Jimin tries again, and it’s only then that Seokjin understands the real meaning behind his words.
“I know.”
“And we still sleep in those trailer containers.”
“I know.”
“Occasionally the couch.”
“I know.”
“You don’t need a warrant to get rid of all this.”
“I know.”
Jimin stares, slightly uncertain. Seokjin turns around with the camera to capture the younger’s apprehensive frown.
“Jimin, I don't care anymore.” Seokjin smiles. “I like it here. I actually get it.”
It takes a while to register, but Jimin eventually beams into the camera. Seokjin dishevels the younger male's bright orange hair, unknowing that his camera is capturing just black frames, trapped between them as the older male squeezes his arm around Jimin's shoulders. His whisper is recorded.
“Please let me run.”
Seokjin is one of them.
And he has six younger brothers.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Fire away.”
“What’s really out there?”
Jungkook asks out of the blue, popping into the frame of the video camera. Contrary to the abstract intentions of the question, his expression is impassive, as someone else asked and he just happens to be there. Seokjin chuckles, filming Jungkook’s stoic face for another second before putting the camera down. He falls in thought, cocking his head before responding playfully.
“Credit cards. Hot chicks. Electric heaters.”
Jungkook scrunches his eyes, looking like he wants to punch himself for having anticipated something he could actually work with.
“I was thinking more along the lines of,” Jungkook’s sighs, as if he can’t believe that he’s bringing himself to say this. His cheeks tinge a tiny bit red. “Real happiness?”
Seokjin looks a bit taken aback, and he shuffles in his seat to get more comfortable. He pushes the camera aside and faces Jungkook, seriousness hinting in his tone.
“Okay, fine. I wasn’t going to tell you, but you may find…” Seokjin waits for a dramatic effect. “Your true self that you haven't discovered yet.”
Jungkook scowls immediately. “Hyung, that didn’t mean I wanted you to get all clever and cryptic-shit on me.”
There are bubbles in Seokjin’s throat, as he emits a handful of laughter and leans back against the wall for support (that's still wet from Taehyung’s graffiti).
“You’re really asking the wrong guy, Kookie!"
He complains, as the younger male is left in awe at Seokjin’s radiant smile.
“I found real happiness here.”
It’s not always fun and games.
And Seokjin’s consciousness sometimes returns.
Hoseok is over-dosing again. It somehow leads into a huge fight for Yoongi and Jimin that ends up in a lot of cursing and alcohol. Taehyung’s father comes back home and he stays there more often, and Namjoon doesn’t return from the gas station until the sun fully sets. Seokjin has a feeling that Jungkook is mingling around with the wrong people.
“Hoseok ended up in a wheelchair.”
Seokjin looks almost angry, his voice quivering. They’ve just come back from running and they’re dirty, sweating, and bleeding from their mouths and knuckles.
“How far do you guys have to push your boundaries?”
There’s a hollow laugh directed at him.
“So, that’s it, huh. You finally woke up.” Yoongi lashes, alcohol wafting with every sway of his body. “You stepped into the woods, had your little midsummer night’s dream, and now that you’ve woken up, you realize how gritty and shitty our life is and you see how we’re fucking up our lives, don’t you?!”
Seokjin clenches his fists, his gaze burning like the crackling fire in front of them.
“How long were you planning on living like this? I’m just trying to help-“
“We don’t need your help.” Taehyung barks, picking up Seokjin’s stuff from the couch and striding over. “We don’t need your sympathy, or your fancy doctor stuff to help us, and stop recording our every fucking move with your camera.”
Seokjin’s chest hurts, probably because Taehyung just vehemently shoved his stuff into his arms, but it’s what’s underneath that pricks the most.
“Don’t you guys want to know? Know what else is out there?”
Seokjin pleads. He looks towards the youngest for help, but the twinkle in Jungkook’s eye from the other day is no longer there. Namjoon leans against the trailer box, and takes the lollipop out of his mouth and throws it into the flame. Jimin glares at his feet and refuses to meet Seokjin’s eyes.
“I just wish,” Seokjin whispers before turning around, “I just wish you guys knew.”
Jungkook tries. He tries to keep Yoongi sane, himself sane, but he slams his back against the leg of their table and pain travels up his nerve and dews a tear at the end of his eyes. Yoongi is screaming, throwing things on the wall, shattering glass and screaming, screaming names Jungkook can barely make out as Kim Seokjin, names he somehow makes out as Park Jimin.
It’s the alcohol, Jungkook tries to tell himself. It’s the alcohol that’s transformed Yoongi, and it’s only the alcohol that’s making Yoongi etch bruises and cuts on his body.
Hyung's drunk, he isn't himself right now.
Jungkook reiterates over and over, trying to uncurl his fists that are already shaking out of his control.
There are pieces of broken mirror on the floor and blood from Yoongi's feet starts smudging grotesquely. He’s about to grab another armful of memories and shatter them into pieces, when Jungkook pushes himself up and lunges towards him. Jungkook stops the drunken male, holds him tight and tells him that Seokjin is dead, but Yoongi tells him to shut up, and that he’ll kill him if he says that one more time. Yoongi’s agonizing screaming makes Jungkook go crazy; he punches him in the face and Yoongi crashes hard into the wall.
“Get it together, hyung.” Jungkook chokes, dragging his feet towards the older male and falling onto his knees. “Seokjin is dead.”
“You’re wrong.”
Yoongi spits, repeatedly hitting his head against Jungkook’s shoulder.
Jungkook lets him be.
“You’re wrong.”
When morning hits, Taehyung regrets giving Seokjin the camera, the device that held all their memories. Held Seokjin. None of them expect him to return.
But Kim Seokjin does.
He returns with seven white fluffy pillows in his arms, his view completely blocked by the cotton tower. None of them actually realize that Seokjin is behind it for the first couple of seconds. It’s only when the man drops them on the floor of the trailer that they realize that Seokjin is back, with pillows, but it’s still not enough to provide them any context. Seokjin huffs with both hands on his waist, his lips curling into a smile.
“I’m a doctor, well, a therapist actually, but never mind that- I thought of the greatest way to forgive each other.”
Jimin’s brows soar as he picks up a pillow. Seokjin beams as Jungkook shuffles to do the same.
“You know what this is? This means I'm going to be vulnerable and intimate with all of you for a moment. We’re beyond frustrated, and instead of trying to cover it up with our ego, we just need to throw some fucking pillows at each other.”
“Don’t tell me-“
Yoongi starts and Seokjin nods, his brown bangs flopping gently over his forehead.
“Pillow fight therapy. Just whack each other with it, wham, wham wham!”
Seokjin doesn’t have to explain twice. As soon as Yoongi’s and Jimin’s gazes meet, they grab a pillow and thrust it at each other, extra hard with feelings not exactly concealed in their actions. Soon everyone’s joined in, forgetting what the initial purpose had been and just liberating themselves from all the fury and grit they’ve collected in their hearts. Pillows start exploding with a thunder, and white feathers flutter around the room everywhere. A pillow slams into his head and Taehyung's roaring with laughter, trying to spit out the feathers from his mouth as he aims for Hoseok. There are fuzzy stuffing swirling all around the trailer, and Jimin jumps around like a kid seeing snow for the first time. Yoongi's on the floor, trying to catch his breath and pointing at Hoseok and Namjoon who are whacking each other like there's no tomorrow. The ends of their pillows crash into each other again and rips open freely, bursting another handful of feathers that pools softly by their feet. Taehyung slips on the silky floor, now completely covered in feathers, landing foolishly on top of Seokjin who’s already lying on his back. They just stare ahead, their shoulders rising up and down with each heavy breath. The ceiling ripples prettily with feathers.
“Hyung,” Taehyung huffs, and Seokjin hums for a response. “Sorry.”
Seokjin merely ruffles the younger's disorganized brown locks.
Taehyung doesn't think there's anything more that he can wish for right now.
Jimin looks down at the clean white bed. It’s too clean for his comfort, and the metal railing gleams under the cold hospital lights. He hears steady beeping that drones from the monitor beside the bed, where an IV stand erects and drips all the way down to Hoseok’s frail, scrawny wrists.
“You’re stupid, hyung.”
Jimin’s words hang in the air, as he blankly looks down at the serene, sleeping face.
“What would Jin hyung say?”
Hoseok doesn’t respond, and Jimin continues to wait with a white pillow in his hand. He wants to pillow fight, because he wants to let out his frustrations and be vulnerable and intimate with Hoseok for a moment. Even for a brief second.
Jimin shivers, biting down on his bluish lips that have long lost its shade of pink. The fingers that are clutching onto the pillow are shrivelled and wrinkled from being under the water for too long.
“Hyung…”
Jimin stifles, his unstable frame slipping down onto the bed. The younger male’s dark head falls limp on Hoseok’s stomach.
“Wake up, hyung.” Jimin’s tears seep into the ghostly white hospital uniform, barely covering Hoseok’s gaunt body. “Come run with me.”
The sky is mauve, the ocean’s stretched far below him, and the air is crisp and delicious.
Taehyung rubs his neck with the back of his hand, and the sweat glistens gold against the setting sun. Taehyung can't believe that he's actually made it to the top, on this skeleton tower that seems to hold no purpose; probably serving one for the first time today.
He looks down and waves towards the group of his friends sitting along the edge, their feet dangling above the tides crashing against the stone wall. They all wave back except for Seokjin who's filming him on his video camera and Hoseok who looks half weary and half frightened. Taehyung laughs at how chicken Hoseok is, when he's not even the one up here. Yet he flaps his hand, telling him to get down. Taehyung makes a face and sticks out his tongue as if to reassure the older male. Hoseok rolls his eyes, but there's a snicker creeping on his mouth there somewhere.
Taehyung faces forward again. He can't really see the bottom from here; it's just a vast, wide horizon.
"You can do it, Taetae!"
He hears Jimin holler from below, assisted with muffled laughters and a recognizable complaint that sounds like Yoongi. The sound rides the peace, as a soft, warm breeze carries it up for Taehyung to hear their voices so vividly. Taehyung closes his eyes.
He hears a familiar melody of Jungkook singing. And Hoseok's obnoxiously loud laughter. He hears Namjoon nag, Jimin's giggles, Yoongi's affectionate mutters, and lastly, Seokjin's last scream when he got shot, overlaps and overrides all noise.
Taehyung opens his eyes and looks down. None of his friends are there, except for Seokjin who's still filming him and waving one hand, a gentle smile on his lips.
Taehyung grins back. He pulls on his hoodie and wipes his nose, his palms burning against his cheeks that are hot with tears. He runs forward, his movements slow but light. Everything passes by him in a blur as if to be in slow motion.
He doesn't stop running. His feet leaving the last patch of the platform, Taehyung jumps.