Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seokjin finished arranging the last few items on the counter of his new kitchen.
He had planned every detail of his business meticulously, from the color of the walls to the placement of each table.
After seven years away, he was finally back in Seoul, ready to begin again.

Excitement pulsed in his chest, mixed with something heavier. Of course he had missed his family, his friends, the sound of the city.
But as he stood there, the familiar skyline pressing against the window, his chest tightened because Seoul was also the place where he had left his heart behind.
Every corner, every street seemed to hum with the memory of the love he once had.

He took a deep breath, pushed the thought away, and returned to work.
Opening a bakery had always been his dream; after years of saving and planning, he was finally able to make it real. And a big part of that journey had started far from Seoul.

During his time in New York, he had met Jungkook, an enthusiastic pastry apprentice with big, curious eyes and an endless eagerness to learn.
They became friends almost instantly, bonded by long nights in cramped kitchens, shared midnight snacks after exhausting shifts, and a mutual love for anything sweet.

Jungkook admired Seokjin’s calm confidence, his steady hands and quiet passion; Seokjin found Jungkook’s determination and bright, uncomplicated warmth impossible not to like.
Over time, Jungkook had become more than just a friend; he was the reason Seokjin managed to endure being so far from home.
Whenever the homesickness hit too hard or the winter felt too long, Jungkook was there: dragging him out for hot chocolate, convincing him to try new recipes, or simply sitting beside him until the weight lifted.

Jungkook had lived in Korea until he was ten before his family moved to the U.S., so when Seokjin mentioned he was going back to Seoul to open a bakery, Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a second.
He packed his bags and came along, no questions, no doubts, simply trusting that wherever Seokjin went, something good would come out of it.

Together, they were ready to turn Seokjin’s quiet dream into something real.

The bakery sat on a quiet corner of Yongsan, its wide glass windows framed with pale wood and small hanging plants that softened the modern lines of the building. Inside, the space felt warm and effortlessly cozy: cream walls, soft golden lights, and light-oak tables arranged to give the room a gentle, open flow.

The counter carried the same clean aesthetic: a curved display filled with glossy fruit tarts, perfectly laminated croissants, and delicate pastries arranged with near-artistic precision. Behind it, shelves held jars of homemade jams and neatly labeled ingredients, touches that made the modern space feel personal.

It was the kind of bakery where people slowed down without meaning to, where the city’s noise softened the moment the door closed behind them.

“Hyung, look! We got more flowers for opening day,” Jungkook called out as he adjusted his apron and crouched near the entrance to arrange a new bouquet. The air smelled like pastries and coffee, warm and inviting.

“Oh?” Seokjin turned from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. “Who are they from?”

Jungkook leaned closer to the attached card, squinting a little. “Hmm… it says they’re from Taehyung and Hoseok.”

“Oh…” Seokjin’s voice faltered for just a second before he managed a small smile. “Tae told me he was coming by. They look perfect there, thanks, Jungkook.”

He tried to sound casual, but the mention of Hoseok sent a flicker of unease through his chest. Not the feeling he wanted today of all days.

He straightened his apron and looked around at the tables filling with customers, the warm chatter, the soft music. It was his dream finally alive.

His friends arrived later that afternoon, their laughter spilling through the door before he even looked up.

“Seokjin hyung! I missed you!” Jimin said, practically launching himself at him in a hug.

“Omg, Jimin, you’re going to suffocate him,” Taehyung laughed as he pulled him back, only to wrap his own arms around Seokjin. “But honestly, hyung, not seeing you right when you got back to Seoul? That was mean.”

Seokjin chuckled. “I’m sorry, guys. As soon as I arrived, I threw myself into getting everything ready.”

“Well, it paid off. Everything looks amazing. We’re really proud of you,” Taehyung said as he looked around the cozy space.

Behind him, Hoseok stepped forward with his usual bright smile. “Seokjin-ssi, congratulations! The bakery looks incredible, and it smells even better. Oh, and here, these are for you. Happy opening day.”

He handed him a basket filled with vibrant fruits. In the center, ripe strawberries stood out, Seokjin’s favorite. For a moment, Seokjin wondered if it was a coincidence or if someone else had mentioned it. But then he reminded himself Taehyung was involved, so it was probably nothing.

His heart tightened unexpectedly, a quiet ache he hid behind a smile. “Thank you, Hoseok. It’s really good to see you.”

Before the silence could grow heavier, Seokjin stepped aside slightly and gestured toward the counter.

“Oh, by the way, there’s someone I want you guys to meet,” he said, his voice brightening. “This is Jungkook. We worked together in New York, and he came with me to help run the bakery.”

Jungkook straightened up immediately, a little shy but still wearing that warm, eager smile. He bowed politely.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. It’s really nice to meet you all. Thank you for supporting hyung.”

“Aww, he’s adorable,” Jimin whispered loudly, making Jungkook’s ears turn pink.

Taehyung grinned wide. “Welcome to the chaos, Jungkook-ah. Anyone who helps our hyung is family.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Beside them, Hoseok offered Jungkook a gentle, polite smile, friendly but with his eyes lingering for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he smiled again, bright as ever. “It’s great to meet you, Jungkook.”

Seokjin gestured toward a corner table near the window. “Come on, I saved a table for you guys. Order whatever you want, it’s on the house today.”

The group followed him, their chatter blending with the gentle hum of the espresso machine. From behind the counter, Seokjin watched them settle in, his chest both light and heavy. Just the thought that he was only one person away from Yoongi was enough to make his heart stumble.

The bakery’s opening had been such a success that, within a few weeks, they already had regular customers. Some stopped by every morning for their first cup of coffee, while others came at the end of long office days, drawn by the warm lights and the comforting smell of pastries.

Seokjin and Jungkook were genuinely happy with how well things were going. The days were busy but fulfilling, the kind of rhythm that made the place feel alive.

While Seokjin was arranging a fresh tray of fruit tarts behind the counter, Minna, the cashier, approached him with a slightly curious expression.

“Seokjin, there’s a woman asking to speak with the manager,” Minna said, lowering her voice a little. “She asked me something about a big order.”

“Oh? Got it, I’ll go talk to her. Thanks, Minna,” Seokjin replied, brushing flour from his hands as he headed in the direction she pointed.

He approached the table where the woman was sitting. She looked elegant and composed, her posture straight, a tablet resting beside her cup of tea.

“Hello,” Seokjin said with a polite smile. “Our cashier, Minna, told me you wanted to speak with the manager. I’m Kim Seokjin, the owner. Nice to meet you.”

The woman stood and bowed lightly. “Hello, Mr. Kim. I’m Choi YerinI run an art gallery nearby. I came by the other day and tried your pastries, and they were lovely. Since I saw your bakery is new, I wanted to ask if you offer catering for events. We have an art exhibition in two weeks, and I’d love to have your pastries for the event.”

Seokjin blinked, pleasantly surprised. “Oh, actually, we don’t usually cater events. We only opened a month ago… but we’d love to take on the challenge. Could you tell me more about what you’re looking for?”

Yerin smiled, relieved. “Of course.”

They discussed flavors, quantities, delivery times, and presentation. Yerin spoke with the enthusiasm of someone who cared deeply about aesthetics, and Seokjin matched her energy with ideas of his own.

By the time they finished, she seemed satisfied, and Seokjin felt a warm burst of pride knowing his bakery was already catching people’s attention.

Later that evening, once they were back in the small apartment they had rented, Seokjin kicked off his shoes and finally relaxed. Jungkook was chopping strawberries for a late snack while waiting for dinner when Seokjin leaned against the counter, quietly watching him.

“Jungkook-ah,” he began, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips, “we got offered a catering job for an art gallery. It’s in two weeks.”

Jungkook immediately brightened, eyes wide. “Really? That’s amazing, hyung! What did she say? What does she want? We can make cream tarts or maybe those éclairs …”

Seokjin laughed as Jungkook’s excitement spilled out in a rush.

“I know,” he said, nudging him playfully. “I’m excited too. It’s a big challenge, but I’m sure we can do it.”

They spent the next hour discussing everything Yerin had requested and tossing around ideas to make it perfect. The apartment buzzed with their voices, occasional jokes, and the soft clinking of chopsticks as they ate dinner.

Chapter Text

Everything was ready to be delivered to the gallery. Seokjin and Jungkook had decided to take the pastries themselves, leaving Minna in charge of the bakery for a short while. The gallery was only three blocks away, but Seokjin didn’t want to risk anything getting damaged; the presentation mattered too much. So he asked Jimin for a ride, and Jimin agreed without hesitation.

He dropped them off at the staff entrance, and the two of them quickly spotted Yerin, who was coordinating with several people at once. The moment she saw them, she rushed over with a relieved smile.

“Seokjin, perfect timing,” Yerin said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she balanced her tablet against her chest.

“Hello, Ms. Choi. This is Jeon Jungkook, my main baker,” Seokjin introduced politely.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Choi,” Jungkook added with a small bow, trying to sound as professional as possible.

“You can call me Yerin. It’s lovely to meet you, Jungkook. Come on, you can set the pastries over here. Everyone is running around today… first day of an exhibition always feels like organized chaos,” she said, laughing nervously.

“I can imagine. We’re excited to contribute to your event,” Seokjin replied with a warm nod.

“Everything will look amazing, Seokjin. If it’s not too much trouble, could you help arrange the pastries on these trays and set them on the designated tables in the main hall? The servers are running late,” Yerin said, her voice tight with stress.

“No problem, we can help,” Jungkook answered immediately.

“Thank you, truly. Let me know when you’re done. I’d like to say goodbye before you leave,” she said before hurrying off again, tablet already back in hand.

“Alright, hyung, let’s get to work,” Jungkook said, rolling up his sleeves.

“Let’s do it, Jungkookie,” Seokjin said, offering him an encouraging smile as he grabbed the first tray.

They arranged the pastries on the elegant trays and carried them to the assigned tables. As the servers finally began arriving, the room filled with movement and chatter. Guests made their way in, filling the gallery with early excitement.

Seokjin was placing the last tray, double-checking the alignment, when he heard a voice behind him. A voice he would recognize anywhere in the world.

“Seokjin?” Yoongi sounded unsure, almost hesitant.

Seokjin turned around and found himself face-to-face with him. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to a single point. His stomach dipped, his pulse stuttered, and seven years of carefully folded memories threatened to spill open. “Yoongi-ssi. Hi,” he said at last, his expression settling into something calm, practiced, almost painfully neutral.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi asked, confusion flickering across his face.

“I… made these,” Seokjin answered, pointing toward the neatly arranged pastries on the table. His fingers felt stiff, like they didn’t entirely belong to him.

Yoongi opened his mouth to reply, but a cheerful voice cut in.

“Hyung, I placed the last tray, we can go now— oh, sorry!” Jungkook said, nearly bumping into Yoongi.

“It’s fine, Jungkook,” Seokjin said quickly, his heartbeat still sprinting ahead of him. “We’re done anyway. We should find Yerin. Bye, Yoongi.”

The words tumbled out too fast, and he gently guided Jungkook forward with a hand on his back, desperate to move before his thoughts could catch up with him. He didn’t dare look back, but he could feel Yoongi left hanging mid-sentence, watching them walk away.

“Hyung, what was that? Who is he?” Jungkook whispered, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Not now. I’ll tell you later,” Seokjin muttered, scanning the area until he spotted Yerin near the backstage entrance. His chest still felt tight, as if the simple act of seeing Yoongi had cracked open something he wasn’t ready to face again.

“Yerin, we’re finished. We’re heading out now. We hope everything goes well. Please let us know how the pastries were received,” Seokjin said, offering her a polite smile despite the lingering tension in his chest. His voice was steady, but his fingers still tapped lightly against his thigh, a leftover pulse of adrenaline.

Yerin looked up from her tablet, her expression softening with relief. “Thank you so much, both of you. I’ll visit the bakery soon, once things calm down,” she said, giving them a grateful nod before lifting a hand to her earpiece again.

They headed back to the bakery, and only then did Seokjin feel his chest loosen. He dropped onto a chair, trying to steady his breathing. Jungkook returned from the counter with a warm cup of tea and placed it gently in front of him.

“Hyung, here. You need this,” Jungkook said softly. “Let’s talk at the apartment later, okay?” His smile was calm and reassuring.

“Okay, Jungkookie. Thanks,” Seokjin murmured. His shoulders loosened a little as he wrapped his hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into his palms. The small smile he managed wasn’t perfect, but it was real enough for now.

They barely closed the apartment door behind them when Seokjin dropped his bag and sank into the couch.

"That was Yoongi," he said, voice flat.

"Yoongi? Your ex Yoongi? Suga? The famous rapper?" Jungkook jumped in, eyes wide. He had been stuffing leftover samples into a container and stopped, clearly startled. "Oh my god, I didn't even recognize him. I was too focused on the trays."

Seokjin let out a short, tired laugh and leaned his head back against the cushion. "Yeah, that one." He rubbed his temple with one hand, like he could smooth the sudden ache away.

Jungkook sat on the arm of the couch and folded his arms, not asking but stating what felt like an obvious fact. "And you are not okay."

Seokjin exhaled slowly. "Nope. I left Seoul seven years ago because of him, and after I came back a little over a month ago, he shows up again and ruins my peace." His voice broke at the last word, more from tiredness than outrage.

Jungkook leaned forward, earnest. "Hyung, you are not the same person you were seven years ago. Do not put yourself back in that same place. You are more mature now, stronger, and you have me." He thumped his chest lightly with his fist, trying to be part joke, part reassurance.

Seokjin let out a small, surprised laugh. "What is that supposed to mean, Jungkook?"

"If he bothers you, I do not care that he is famous. I will still kick his ass. I did not train for nothing; these muscles are meant to be used.” Jungkook flexed theatrically, then grinned at his own dramatics.

"Oh my god, Jungkook. I do not think that would be necessary." Seokjin pushed a hand through his hair and tried to regroup. "He broke up with me. I do not think he wanted to see me today, and honestly, I do not want to see him either."

They fell into a quieter rhythm, talking through ordinary things at first: the gallery order, a few recipe tweaks, Jungkook's plan to try a new glaze. But beneath the practicality, Seokjin's heartbeat was still doing strange, impatient stutters. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the curve of Yoongi's jaw, the tilt of his head when he asked questions. A whole history lived in that face, and now it had reappeared in the middle of a room full of pastries and framed art.

He tried to pin down what he’d felt in that instant when Yoongi had said his name. There had been shock, yes, and a hollowing cold that slid straight to his stomach. Then something worse followed: a jumble of unanswered questions. Was the city really that small that he had to run into his ex this soon? Would it happen again? He hoped not.

Jungkook glanced up and noticed Seokjin staring into space. He nudged him gently. "Hyung, you are spacing out. You okay?"

Seokjin forced a smile and accepted the cup of tea Jungkook handed him. The warmth seeped into his palms. "Yeah. I will be fine. It was just unexpected. Let's try to sleep early. Tomorrow will be busy."

They talked a little longer, their conversation folding back into the familiar banter that had sustained them through those long New York winters. Jungkook's presence felt steady and grounding, exactly what Seokjin needed right now. He let the ordinary noises of the apartment settle him, promising himself to face whatever came next with the same quiet care he put into his pastries.

12 years ago

Seokjin was running late. Not fashionably late, not politely late, but catastrophically late. It was his first day at the hotel, his first real job after culinary school, and fate had decided to throw every possible delay in his path. By the time the subway doors slid open, he bolted out like a man escaping a collapsing building.

He sprinted across the station, breath short, bag bouncing against his hip. Just as he reached the exit stairs, he slammed into something. Or rather, someone.

Both of them went down. The stranger landed hard on his backside, and his iced coffee flew upward in a messy splash before crashing down over his own clothes. The plastic cup rolled away in a sad, caffeinated spiral.

Seokjin, miraculously untouched by a single drop, froze in horror.

"Oh my god, what is wrong with you—" the stranger started to snap, but when he looked up and actually saw Seokjin, his voice tripped and fell silent halfway through the sentence.

"I am so sorry. I was running because I'm late, it is completely my fault," Seokjin blurted, cheeks burning as he scrambled to help.

The boy blinked, taken aback, his irritation melting into awkwardness. "It’s... fine," he muttered, his face flushing pink under the harsh subway lights.

"Here, give me your number," Seokjin said, hands trembling as he pulled out his phone. "I’ll pay for the laundry. I really have to go, but I promise I’ll message you to get your details. I’m so, so sorry." He gave a quick, too-low, too-rushed bow and dashed off toward the hotel like a man fleeing a crime scene.

The boy sat there for a moment, dazed. "Okay..." he whispered to himself, still trying to process what had just happened.

That same afternoon, after his shift ended, Seokjin sent the promised message. He learned the stranger’s name was Yoongi. Nineteen, a trainee at an entertainment company near the hotel. Despite Yoongi insisting it wasn’t necessary, Seokjin transferred the money for cleaning the clothes.

In return, and almost shyly, Yoongi invited him out for coffee as a friendly gesture. A small thank you.

But the moment Seokjin arrived at the café and saw Yoongi’s gummy smile, soft crinkled eyes, and a hint of playful trouble, he was done for. Gone. Completely cooked.

Coffee turned into walks. Walks turned into movie dates. Movie dates turned into long evenings in Seokjin’s tiny apartment, wrapped in blankets, talking about dreams and fears and everything between.

Their first kiss came on a spring night, quiet and hesitant at first, then sure and warm, like something they’d both been moving toward without realizing it.

Because of Yoongi’s career, they kept things low profile. Most of their time was spent indoors, tucked away from the world, figuring each other out with laughter, late night ramen, and silences that felt safe instead of heavy.

The day Yoongi debuted a little over a year after they met, Seokjin watched the broadcast on the break room TV at the hotel. He stood there in the break room, the faint smell of coffee and disinfectant around him, and felt his eyes sting. The boy who had once spilled iced coffee all over himself because of him was now debuting on screen.

And Seokjin had never felt prouder.

Chapter Text

Jimin’s apartment buzzed with noise and warmth. Jungkook and Taehyung were glued to the console, shouting dramatic threats at the screen until Taehyung threw his arms up in triumph.

“Oh my god, Jungkook, you lost,” Seokjin said, laughing as Jungkook’s face scrunched into an offended pout.

“Not nice, hyung,” Jungkook grumbled.

“Good job, Tae. Jungkookie needs to stay humble,” Seokjin added, nudging him with his knee.

They had all gathered because Jimin had suggested a casual friends’ night, something long overdue after Seokjin’s return to Seoul. He hesitated at first, nerves tugging at him, but Jimin extended the invitation to Jungkook too, and that made everything easier. Seeing his old friends again was something Seokjin knew would take time and effort, a slow rebuilding of bridges he had left behind.

What he hadn’t expected was for Hoseok and Namjoon to show up.

Years ago, it wouldn’t have surprised him at all. Now, their presence made the room tilt slightly. Hoseok had been dancing for the company Yoongi worked under; Namjoon had started as a junior assistant and grown into Yoongi’s manager over time. Seokjin remembered all of that clearly, even though he wished he didn’t.

Their friendships had blended naturally back then, as his and Yoongi’s relationship deepened. Taehyung and Hoseok had danced around each other for years before finally dating. While Seokjin’s relationship had been sinking, theirs had just begun. It had been bittersweet, watching their happiness while his world was falling apart.

Now, sitting here after seven years, Seokjin observed them from a slight distance, like a guest in a familiar home rearranged in his absence. The group’s rhythm was strong and easy; he felt the edges of it brushing against him without fully pulling him in.

But Jungkook grounded him. Jungkook always did. Whenever Seokjin’s mind began to drift somewhere he didn’t want to go, Jungkook cracked a joke or nudged him with his shoulder, and the heaviness eased.

They eventually settled into a card game, and somewhere between rounds, Namjoon leaned forward.

“So… how long have you two known each other?”

Seokjin took a sip of soda, buying a second to think. “Hmm… I think we met a couple of weeks after I moved to New York. So, around seven years. Jungkook was a pastry apprentice at the restaurant where we both worked.”

Jungkook nodded enthusiastically. “Hyung helped me so much. I wouldn’t have survived the pace as a newbie if it wasn’t for him.”

“You were always talented, Jungkook,” Seokjin said softly. “If anything, I should be the one thanking you. Your enthusiasm kept me going when everything felt too heavy.”

Something warm flickered across Jungkook’s expression. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a quick, quiet glance, curiosity simmering there, but neither said anything.

The night rolled on with snacks being passed around, cards flipped, dice thrown, and easy teasing weaving through the room. Each time Seokjin laughed at one of Jungkook’s jokes or leaned in close to whisper a strategy, silent questions stirred in the eyes of the people who had once been Yoongi’s closest circle.

As the night began to slow, everyone sprawled across the living room with blankets and soft murmurs while a movie played on the TV. Seokjin sank deeper into the couch, and Jungkook drifted closer beside him, warm and steady, a quiet anchor against memories he wasn’t ready to revisit.

Yoongi wasn’t there tonight. He hadn’t been invited.
But Seokjin felt the weight of him anyway, hovering at the back of his thoughts like an echo.

Still, surrounded by old friends and new comfort, Seokjin allowed himself to breathe again. Here, in this room full of laughter, he wasn’t the boy who ran away seven years ago.
He was someone rebuilding. Slowly, quietly, but surely.

The week unfolded in a blur of early mornings and flour-dusted routines. Back at the bakery, Seokjin slipped easily into the rhythm that came with running a new business. The space carried the calm pulse of a late afternoon, trays lined up neatly on the counter while the warm sweetness of pastries drifted through the air. The faint bitterness of coffee settled over it all, tying the room together in a way that made the work feel steady and familiar.

Seokjin adjusted a tray of tarts, nudging each tart into perfect alignment. Beside him, Jungkook moved with calm efficiency, arranging pastries with the ease of someone who had long ago made precision a habit. His eyes were bright, attentive, always a step ahead.

“Hyung, I think everything’s ready for the last display,” Jungkook said.

“Looks great, Jungkook. Good work,” Seokjin replied.

Just then, the bell above the door chimed. A sound so ordinary, yet somehow it sliced straight through him. Seokjin looked up and froze.

“Namjoon?” he breathed.

Namjoon blinked, just as surprised. “Seokjin hyung? Hi. I work close by and saw this new bakery. I wanted to check it out. I didn’t know it was yours, though Tae mentioned you opened one.”

“Oh… yeah. We opened a little over a month ago,” Seokjin said, clearing his throat. “Jungkook is my main baker.” He gestured lightly toward him.

“Hi Namjoon,” Jungkook said with a shy smile.

“Hi, Jungkook. Everything looks really good. You must be a great baker. Can’t wait to try it.”

“Our pastries are gaining popularity. You should definitely try them. Minna can take your order at the register,” Seokjin added, pointing toward the counter.

“Thanks, hyung,” Namjoon said before heading over.

Seokjin held his breath without meaning to, watching Namjoon order, watching him wait, watching him leave. Only when the door shut behind him did the air return to his lungs.

“You okay, hyung?” Jungkook asked gently.

“Mmm… if he works close by, then Yoongi works close by too…” Seokjin whispered, worry pooling in his stomach.

“Oh… damn,” Jungkook murmured. “It’ll be fine, hyung. Don’t stress before anything even happens.”

Seokjin nodded, but that familiar pinch in his chest, the one that had followed him since the moment he stepped back into Seoul, only tightened.

11 years ago

It had been one year since Yoongi’s debut. Slowly, steadily, his name had begun to settle into the music industry, whispered first, then spoken louder as his debut album Agust D spread like wildfire. Seokjin felt proud in a way that warmed his entire chest. His boyfriend was shining. His work was being recognized. The world was finally discovering what Seokjin had always known.

But success cast long shadows.
Time together became scarce, swallowed by schedules, rehearsals, late-night studio sessions. Their relationship existed in careful corners, hidden messages, fleeting video calls at impossible hours. They had learned to love quietly, almost secretly, as if every emotion needed to be wrapped in cotton and stored away.

Yoongi was in Japan at the time, filming something for his next album. Seokjin remembered the morning clearly: the soft light spilling through his apartment window, the kettle whistling, the ache of missing Yoongi sitting just beneath the surface of an otherwise normal day.

Then the notifications started.

His phone buzzed once. Then again. And then the notifications poured in with no pause between them.

At first, he thought it was a glitch. But when he unlocked his phone, he froze.

Hundreds of alerts from Twitter. Comments flooding his mentions.
He didn’t understand until he scrolled.

Someone had posted a blurry photo: Yoongi walking down a quiet street, mask on, head lowered. Beside him was another figure. Him. Seokjin. His face wasn’t fully visible, but it didn’t matter. The internet didn’t need clarity to draw blood.

The comments were cruel. Sharp. Accusatory.
Questioning who he was.
Insulting his appearance.
Telling him to stay away.

A cold feeling crawled up Seokjin’s spine.
His hands shook.

He had never asked to be seen. Never wanted to be part of Yoongi’s world in that way. He only wanted to love him quietly.

Panicking, he set his account to private. Then he deleted every post. Every photo. Every trace of himself that could somehow be tied to Yoongi.

He didn’t tell anyone.
Not Yoongi, who was already exhausted and thousands of miles away.
Not his friends, who wouldn’t understand the gilded cage that came with loving someone famous.
Not even himself, really, because acknowledging the fear meant acknowledging that something in him had cracked.

So he buried it.
Went on with his day.
Pretended the sting wasn’t real.

But that was the beginning.
A small fracture.
One that would widen with time, widening with the weight of silence, until someday it would split open completely.

Chapter Text

The bakery’s work rhythm was exhausting but rewarding. In the mornings, Jungkook handled the opening, while Seokjin arrived around lunchtime and stayed until closing. Jungkook usually went home to rest, though more often than not he reappeared around seven or eight to help clean up, something Seokjin deeply appreciated.

Still, Seokjin had been pushing himself too hard, ignoring every warning his body sent. And on his way to the bakery, just two blocks away, he took a step and the world slipped into darkness.

The next thing he knew, a nurse was adjusting the IV drip attached to his arm. He was in a hospital bed.

“You’re awake. I’ll call the doctor,” she said, leaving him with a foggy sense of confusion.

A few minutes later, a man in his fifties entered the room, white coat, gentle eyes, and a clipboard tucked under his arm.

“Hello, Mr. Kim. It’s good to see you conscious again. You collapsed on the street. Your bloodwork shows anemia. You need to improve your nutrition and slow down,” the doctor said, firm but not unkind.

“I understand,” Seokjin replied, still absorbing the information.

“These are your belongings. Also, your emergency contact has been notified and should be here shortly.” With that, the doctor left.

Emergency contact.

Seokjin had no idea who that could be. His parents didn’t live in Seoul, and he hadn’t lived here for seven years. The last time he’d been in a hospital was when—

His thoughts caught on that memory, tightening his chest, but then hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Yoongi appeared beside the bed, slightly out of breath, hair messy as if he’d run the last part.

“Seokjin,” he breathed, voice low but edged with alarm.

Seokjin’s head snapped up. “Yoongi? What are you doing here?” His voice came out thinner than intended, surprise widening his eyes.

“They called me.” Yoongi stepped closer, hands gripping the bed railing, knuckles pale. “They said you collapsed. Are you alright?” His gaze swept over Seokjin carefully, the kind of careful that hides fear.

“You?” Seokjin blinked, pulse stumbling. “You’re my emergency contact?” The disbelief softened his voice, turned it fragile around the edges. All that distance he’d tried to maintain, undone by a hospital form he’d forgotten he ever filled out.

“I am,” Yoongi said softly. His shoulders lowered a fraction, as if saying it cost him something.

“I’m fine,” Seokjin insisted, pushing through the knot in his throat. “The doctor already explained everything. You don’t need to worry. I know you’re busy… I'll just call a taxi.” He stood, trying to make the moment smaller, lighter, manageable.

The room tilted. His body swayed.

Yoongi caught him before he fully stumbled, one arm circling his waist, the other steadying his shoulder. The warmth of his hands hit him all at once, memory and shock rippling through him.

“You’re not fine,” Yoongi said, voice firm but trembling with something deeper. He guided Seokjin back onto the bed, movements gentle even as tension pulled at his jaw. His hand lingered briefly on Seokjin’s arm, as if confirming he was truly there.

After another check-up and a prescription for supplements, Yoongi insisted on driving him. Seokjin asked to be dropped off at the bakery; Jungkook had been calling repeatedly, worried since Seokjin never showed up. A brief text had only made him more anxious.

When they arrived, Seokjin tried to open the car door, but Yoongi stopped him.

“Let me help you. You’re probably still dizzy,” Yoongi said, quiet but steady.

“The IV helped a lot. I feel better now, really.” Seokjin tried to smile, trembled at the edges.

Yoongi exhaled, frustration flickering as they both stepped out of the car. “Why are you so stubborn, Seokjin?”

Before Seokjin could respond, the bakery doors burst open.

“Seokjin hyung!” Jungkook raced toward them, eyes wide. He wrapped Seokjin in a hug that nearly knocked him off balance. “Are you okay? You fainted? Anemia? I told you to eat properly! Why didn’t you call me?” His voice cracked with fear.

“Jungkookie, hyung is sorry.” Seokjin softened instantly, patting his back. “I’m okay, look at me. I just need to take these vitamins.” He lifted the small prescription bag.

Yoongi watched quietly, jaw set, something unreadable tightening behind his eyes.

“No,” Jungkook declared, stepping back just enough to glare. “I’m making sure you eat well from now on. End of discussion.” His protectiveness wrapped around Seokjin like armor.

Seokjin ruffled his hair, touched and guilty all at once. “Alright, alright.”

It was only then that Jungkook noticed Yoongi.

“Oh—hi.” He dipped his head awkwardly.

“Jungkook, this is Yoongi. He gave me a ride,” Seokjin said, leaning slightly into Jungkook’s support.

“Thank you for helping hyung,” Jungkook said immediately, genuine and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I won’t bother you again,” Seokjin added quickly, retreating before the moment could stretch. He made his way toward the bakery, leaning on Jungkook’s steadying arm, and couldn’t help but glance back at Yoongi, standing there, rigid and silent, watching him leave.

Yoongi’s POV

Yoongi was still trying to process what Hoseok had just told him.
Seokjin was coming back.
After seven years.
Seven years of silence, of distance thickening like winter frost. Seven years since Yoongi made the choice he believed was right, even though it meant losing the person who mattered most to him.

He knew Seokjin had no reason to want to see him again. Not after how things ended. Yoongi wished things had turned out differently, but he had acted with one goal in mind: Seokjin’s peace. And if keeping his distance was what protected that peace, then Yoongi would stay on the sidelines, unseen.

Of course, life never cared about his careful plans.

“Hyung… Seokjin is opening a bakery. Taehyung invited me to the opening,” Hoseok said gently, like he was afraid Yoongi might crack.

“Oh. So that’s why he came back.” Yoongi forced his voice to stay steady. If Seokjin’s dreams were becoming real, then that was enough for him. He didn’t need anything else.

“Hoba… can you do me a favor?” Yoongi asked quietly.

“Anything, hyung,” Hoseok said.

And so Yoongi chose a fruit basket. The best one he could assemble. He selected strawberries himself, remembering without trying how they always made Seokjin smile. He asked Hoseok to deliver the basket under his own name. Yoongi didn’t want to intrude, not even with a gift.

“Hyung, I think he liked it,” Hoseok reported the next day. “He stared at it for a while.”

“It had his favorite fruit. That must be why,” Yoongi answered, pretending the warmth in his chest meant nothing.

“There’s something else…” Hoseok added carefully.

“What do you mean, Hoba?”

“Seokjin didn’t come alone.”

The words hit Yoongi like cold water.

“He came with someone. Jungkook. They’re running the bakery together.”

Yoongi nodded, even though the motion felt stiff. He knew Seokjin owed him nothing. Seven years was a long time. People changed, built new lives, formed new bonds. It was normal. It was healthy. And yet the theory hurt far less than the practice.

So this is how Seokjin’s life grew without me.

That thought lingered longer than it should.

The Art Gallery

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he should go to the art exhibition. A friend had invited him, but he still had a song to finish, one last verse refusing to fall into place. He felt stuck, so he grabbed his coat and decided a walk might shake loose whatever was blocking him.

He reached the gallery just in time.

While scanning the main hall, he froze.
He knew those shoulders. He could have picked them out in a crowd of thousands.
Seokjin.

When Seokjin turned, Yoongi felt the floor give way beneath him. Seven years had settled softly on that face, reshaping it in small, quiet ways, but the warmth he remembered was still there, steady and unmistakable. It struck him with the force of something half-forgotten and painfully familiar, the kind of recognition that blooms before you can defend yourself. His chest tightened, a slow, deliberate ache that told him time had moved on, but his heart hadn’t kept up.

Then another voice appeared at Seokjin’s side. Jungkook. Young, energetic, protective in a way Yoongi understood too well.

Seokjin left swiftly, quicker than Yoongi had hoped. No space for words. No space for anything. Just the echo of a face he had missed more than he allowed himself to admit.

Jimin’s House

A few days later, Yoongi was in the studio with Hoseok and Namjoon, resting a bit between songs, letting the music settle in the quiet moments. He arched an eyebrow, teasing lightly, “Why didn’t you come over for dinner yesterday?”

Namjoon shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Hyung, we went to Jimin’s house last night. Game night, movies. It was fun.”

Hoseok added carefully, watching Yoongi’s reaction, “It wasn’t that we didn’t want you there…”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh really? Then why wasn’t I invited? Has Jimin… doesn’t like me anymore?”

Hoseok hesitated before speaking. “No, it’s not that. Seokjin and Jungkook were there. Jimin… wants everyone to reconnect after so much time apart, and they’re including Jungkook now.”

“That makes sense. Their hyung came back… I know they’ve missed him,” Yoongi said quietly.

Namjoon leaned back, reassuring. “Don’t worry, hyung. We’ll plan something just for us next time.”

Yoongi waved them off, his tone light but edged with amusement. “Not necessary. By the way… where are these pastries from? They’re really good.”

Namjoon’s grin was hesitant. “Uh… from Seokjin’s bakery. It’s near the office.”

Yoongi let out a short, sharp laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

The Hospital

Yoongi was staring at his notebook, searching for a word strong enough to anchor the verse he was working on, when his personal phone began ringing. Over and over. Normally he would ignore it, but something urged him to pick up.

“Hello, is this Mr. Min Yoongi?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Yes. Speaking. Who is this?”

“This is Sungmo Hospital. We’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Mr. Kim Seokjin. He collapsed on the street and has been admitted. The doctor is currently examining him, and he remains unconscious.”

Yoongi’s vision swayed.
For a moment, he was pulled back to another hospital room, another emergency, another moment he had prayed never to relive.

“I’m on my way,” he managed, grabbing his things and sprinting out of the studio.

When he arrived, he didn’t breathe until they directed him to Seokjin’s curtained bed. There he was. Pale, fragile, eyes unfocused. Yoongi wondered if Seokjin remembered the last time they faced a hospital together. He wondered if memory made this harder, or easier, or nothing at all.

Seokjin insisted he could leave on his own, but Yoongi couldn’t allow that. He guided him to the car, ignoring every protest. Each rejection from Seokjin chipped at him, small cracks spreading along lines he thought had long scarred over.

How can someone who was once your entire world not even want to look at you?

That was the thought Yoongi kept swallowing until Jungkook appeared. Genuinely worried. Genuinely protective. Yoongi understood all of it. Seokjin deserved someone steady. Someone who stayed. Someone who could make sure he had the safety and privacy he deserved.

Seokjin thanked him and insisted he wouldn’t bother him again.
He left before Yoongi could say the truth that burned at the base of his throat:

You were never a bother. You could never be one.

But the words didn’t cross the space between them.
Just like always.

Chapter Text

After coming back from the hospital, Jungkook had been unusually attentive, hovering around Seokjin, checking what he ate, making sure he took his supplements, even preparing tea before bed. He hadn’t mentioned Yoongi, or the fact that it was him who had driven Seokjin home that day, but Seokjin could feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

That evening, while they ate dinner at Seokjin’s small apartment, the quiet felt heavier than usual. The city lights bled faintly through the curtains, and Jungkook kept poking at his rice without really eating. Seokjin sighed softly. It was time.

“Jungkook, I know you want to ask about Yoongi,” Seokjin began, his voice calm but weary.

Jungkook froze with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Mm… I do, but we don’t have to talk about him now, hyung. You’re still recovering.”

“It’s okay,” Seokjin said gently. “It’s better to just get it over with.”

Jungkook hesitated before speaking again. “I just don’t understand how he ended up at the hospital with you.”

“Well…” Seokjin said, setting his bowl aside, “I had completely forgotten, he’s still listed as my emergency contact.” I never updated the form after coming back.” He let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I should probably change that. Would it be okay if I put your name?”

“Of course, hyung,” Jungkook said immediately, smiling a little. “I should probably fill out my own insurance info, too.”

“Yes, make sure to include my number and the bakery’s, just in case,” Seokjin said, a hint of fondness slipping into his tone.

“Got it,” Jungkook said with a small nod. Then, more softly, “Was it… awkward? Seeing him there?”

Seokjin’s eyes drifted toward the window. “Yeah. At first, I was too disoriented from fainting to really process it. I just wanted to get back to the bakery. But… he was kind. He didn’t have to come, yet he still did.” His voice softened, thoughtful.

Jungkook studied him carefully. “That says a lot about him. You said he was the one who ended things, but… don’t you think he still cares? I mean, it’s obvious he does.”

Seokjin let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Jungkookie. And I’m not sure I even want to find out. Every time I see him, I either want to run away or scream at him. It’s… too much. All this anger was once love.”

Jungkook frowned, his expression gentle. “Did he ever tell you why he ended it?”

“He said he needed to focus on his career,” Seokjin replied quietly. The words came out like a memory he’d repeated too many times, losing sharpness but not weight.

“Oh, hyung…” Jungkook reached out, placing his hand over Seokjin’s. It was a simple gesture, warm, brotherly, grounding. “I’m sorry.”

Seokjin smiled faintly and patted his hand in return. “It’s alright, Jungkookie. Hyung’s going to be fine.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore, just soft, filled with the quiet comfort of two people who trusted each other enough not to fill every space with words.

The next day, Seokjin planned to go through his routine like always, work his shift at the bakery, head home, and have dinner with Jungkook. But his plans were cut short when a very worried Park Jimin burst through the door just as they were closing.

“Kim Seokjin!!” Jimin shouted, striding toward him with wide eyes.

“Oh my god—Jimin, what’s going on?” Seokjin asked, startled, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Tell me why I had to find out from Tae, who heard it from Hoseok, who heard it from Yoongi, that you ended up in the hospital?!” Jimin said, hands on his hips, equal parts worried and offended.

“Oh, that? It was nothing, I’m fine, really. I’m eating well, tell him, Jungkook.” Seokjin glanced at Jungkook with pleading eyes.

Jungkook chuckled at the scene, shaking his head. “Hyung is better, but yeah, he wasn’t taking care of himself, and that’s why he ended up in the hospital.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to help me out here,” Seokjin said, shooting him a look.

“I’m just telling the truth, hyung,” Jungkook teased, sticking out his tongue.

Jimin sighed, his expression softening. “Hyung… why didn’t you call me? Or tell me anything? Are we not friends anymore?” His voice was small, genuinely hurt.

“It’s not like that, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin said quickly. “I just didn’t want to worry you guys. I didn’t think you’d find out like this…” Thanks a lot, Yoongi, he thought bitterly.

Jungkook was already locking up when Seokjin turned back to Jimin. “Why don’t you have dinner with us? We’re just about done here.”

“Okay, but I’m paying. Pick whatever you want, hyung. And no, you can’t say no,” Jimin replied with a stubborn grin.

Seokjin laughed softly. “Fine, I accept.” Jimin’s expression instantly brightened.

Later, the three of them sat in Seokjin and Jungkook’s apartment, waiting for the fried chicken Seokjin had chosen to order after Jimin insisted on paying. The atmosphere was warm, filled with the quiet sounds of the city outside.

“Hyung,” Jimin began hesitantly, fidgeting with his phone, “not to pry, but… how was it seeing Yoongi hyung again?”

Seokjin sighed, leaning back on the couch. “It actually wasn’t the first time I saw him.”

Jimin blinked, surprised. “It wasn’t?”

“No. A few weeks ago, we had a catering order for an art gallery event. He was there. We just… crossed paths briefly,” Seokjin said, his tone casual but distant.

“I didn’t know that,” Jimin said softly.

“Yeah. But the hospital was… longer. He didn’t have to show up for me, but he did. He was kind, honestly,” Seokjin admitted quietly.

Jimin looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “I think Yoongi hyung still cares about you.”

“That’s exactly what I said yesterday!” Jungkook called out from the couch, earning a groan from Seokjin.

“Oh my god, Jungkookie…” Seokjin muttered.

“Well, he’s right,” Jimin said, smiling knowingly. “Yoongi was stupid for breaking up with you and for making us live through seven years of this nonsense.”

Seokjin shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “He’s not the only one to blame, Jimin-ah. Leaving was my choice.”

“But you made that choice because of him, didn’t you?” Jimin asked quietly.

Seokjin hesitated, then exhaled. “Maybe. But what’s done is done. We can’t change it. What matters is that I’m here now, so let’s make the most of it, okay?”

Jimin’s eyes softened, and he nodded before pulling Seokjin into a hug. “Okay, hyung.”

The warmth of the embrace lingered, quiet and familiar, as the sound of the delivery buzzer echoed through the apartment.

11 years ago

After a few months of keeping all his social media accounts private and maintaining a low profile, Seokjin finally felt like he could breathe again. The hateful comments had stopped, the noise had faded, and for the first time in a long while, things seemed quiet.

Or so he thought.

The first few phone calls didn’t bother him much. He’d answer, and there would be nothing, just silence on the other end. No voice, no sound, only static. He’d hang up, shrug, and tell himself it was a wrong number.

But the calls kept coming.
Day after day.
At all hours.
During shifts, during meals… even in the middle of the night.

Seokjin tried to ignore them, but the unease grew with every ring that shattered the quiet of his small apartment. Until one night, he picked up and finally heard a voice: a distorted, almost mechanical whisper crackling through the speaker, low, deliberate, inhuman.

“Stay away from Suga.”

The line went dead.

For a long moment, Seokjin just stood there, frozen. His chest ached sharply as if the words themselves had struck him. He sat on the edge of his bed, trembling, the phone still in his hand. Fear crept up his throat, thick and cold, until he could barely breathe.

The next morning, he went straight to the phone company and changed his number. It was the only thing he could think of doing.

But it didn’t take long for Yoongi to notice.

“Hyung, you changed your number” Yoongi asked casually a few days later when he dropped by Seokjin’s apartment, flopping onto the couch with a grin.

“Yeah,” Seokjin replied quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m not on the family plan anymore, so I figured it was time for a new one. You know, adult life.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Makes sense. I’ll give your new number to Namjoon too, just in case I can’t reach you. He’s my manager’s assistant, and I trust him.”

“Oh—okay, that’s fine,” Seokjin said, forcing a smile.

Yoongi nodded, distracted as he pulled out his phone to text Namjoon, completely unaware of the lie sitting between them.

That night, Seokjin lay awake staring at the ceiling, the ache in his chest refusing to fade. He had a new number now, no more calls, but peace still felt impossibly far away.

Chapter Text

The next few days passed quietly for Seokjin. The bakery was getting busier, so much that sometimes they had to close early because they ran out of pastries in the afternoon. Business was good, the smell of butter and sugar lingered in the air every morning, and for once, Seokjin allowed himself to feel content.

That was until Jungkook woke up one morning with a slight fever.

He tried insisting on going to work anyway, mumbling something about “not wanting to leave hyung alone all day,” but Seokjin didn’t let him. Within minutes, he had Jungkook back in bed, wrapped up in blankets, and was already getting ready to open the shop himself.

Luckily, Minna had an early shift too, so together they managed to handle the morning rush. By the time the crowd thinned out, both of them were exhausted but relieved. Seokjin leaned against the counter, adjusting the pastry display when the bell over the door chimed softly.

“Good morning, Namjoon,” Seokjin greeted, surprised but smiling.

“Oh, Seokjin hyung,” Namjoon said, equally surprised. “Didn’t expect to see you this early.”

“Jungkook’s sick,” Minna called from the register, giving Namjoon a teasing grin.

“Oh, really? That’s too bad. I hope he gets better soon,” Namjoon said kindly as he placed his usual order to go.

When Namjoon left, Seokjin noticed the curious look he gave before walking out. Minna, however, was quick to clear things up.

“He comes almost every day around this time,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Usually talks with Jungkook for a while.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a slow grin forming. “Does he now?” he murmured, tucking that piece of information away for later, because teasing Jungkook about this was definitely going to be fun.

On his way home, Seokjin received a message from Jimin inviting him to his upcoming birthday celebration. Jimin mentioned he’d also sent an invitation to Jungkook and hoped they could both make it.

When Seokjin arrived at the apartment, he found Jungkook curled up on the couch, bundled in layers of blankets, a box of tissues beside him.

“Hey, Jungkookie. Feeling any better?” Seokjin asked softly, setting down a bag of groceries.

Jungkook looked up, his voice slightly hoarse but cheerful. “Yeah, I think I’m getting better. I can probably go back to the bakery tomorrow, hyung.”

“We’ll see,” Seokjin said, touching his forehead to check for fever. “Depends on how your temperature is tomorrow.” Then he smiled slyly. “By the way, I saw Namjoon today.”

Jungkook froze for half a second, color immediately rising to his cheeks. “Oh? Did he… say anything?”

“Not much,” Seokjin replied casually, pretending to busy himself with the groceries. “Just that he hopes you feel better soon. But Minna told me he comes almost every day around the same time. And judging by the color of your face right now, I think I know why.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, his voice an octave higher. “My cheeks are red because of the fever!”

“Oh really? I thought you said you were feeling better,” Seokjin teased, arching an eyebrow.

Jungkook groaned and hid under the blanket, muffling his voice. “You’re the worst, hyung.”

Seokjin chuckled, sitting beside him. “So, do you like Namjoon?”

There was a long pause before Jungkook peeked out from under the covers, his expression both shy and dramatic. “Ahggggg… yes. But I don’t think he likes me back! I mean, have you seen him? The man is wow.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Seokjin said, his tone turning gentle. “Have you seen yourself? You’re a catch, Jungkookie. If Namjoon doesn’t like you, there are a thousand people in Seoul who would.”

Jungkook smiled, soft and grateful. “Thanks, hyung.”

“Always, Jungkookie,” Seokjin said warmly.

They talked for a while longer as Seokjin cooked dinner, the soft scent of garlic and sesame filling the small apartment. The city hummed faintly beyond the windows, and for a moment, everything felt simple again, like the world outside couldn’t touch them.

Yoongi’s POV

Yoongi sat in his studio, the faint hum of equipment filling the quiet room. He was scrolling through old project files, half-listening to a track looping in the background, when the door opened and Namjoon walked in carrying two cups of coffee and a small paper bag.

“Hey, hyung. I thought you hadn’t eaten breakfast, so I brought these,” Namjoon said with a smile, lifting the bag.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “This is from Seokjin’s bakery… again? You’ve been going there almost every day, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon cleared his throat, setting the food on the table. “The pastries are really good,” he said quickly.

Yoongi smirked, reaching for a croissant. “Well, that’s true,” he admitted, taking a bite.

Namjoon hesitated before speaking again. “Also… I talk to Jungkook sometimes. He’s nice.”

At the mention of that name, something in Yoongi’s chest tightened, just a flicker of discomfort that he tried to ignore. “That’s good,” he said quietly. “Seokjin deserves to have good people around him.”

Namjoon glanced at him carefully, his expression unreadable. “Hyung, I’m not sure they’re… together.”

Yoongi looked up, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“They’re close, yeah, but I don’t think they’re dating. It doesn’t feel like that,” Namjoon said, tapping his fingers lightly against the cup in quiet thought.

Yoongi studied him for a long moment before asking bluntly, “Kim Namjoon, do you like Jungkook?”

Namjoon immediately choked on his coffee, coughing hard while Yoongi reached over to pat his back, half-concerned and half-amused.

“A little,” Namjoon finally admitted, cheeks burning.

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Unbelievable. Well, you’d better hope they’re not together, Namjoon-ah, or you’ll be in trouble.”

“It’s just a small crush,” Namjoon muttered defensively.

“Whatever you say,” Yoongi said, still grinning before taking another sip of coffee.

A few seconds passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the faint clicking of Yoongi’s mouse.

“By the way,” Namjoon said suddenly, “are you coming to Jimin’s birthday? Your schedule’s clear, you could go.”

Yoongi blinked. “Is he doing something? I didn’t get an invitation.”

“Yeah, he sent me a text yesterday,” Namjoon replied, looking a little surprised.

Yoongi frowned, his tone turning uncertain. “Really? I joked once that maybe Jimin didn’t like me anymore, but now I’m starting to think he actually doesn’t. Did I do something wrong?”

Namjoon quickly shook his head. “I’m sure he’ll send you the invite later, hyung. Don’t worry.”

“Maybe,” Yoongi murmured, but his expression had turned thoughtful, a faint crease forming between his brows. For the rest of the morning, even as he went back to work, the question lingered in the back of his mind.

A few days later

Yoongi had been waiting for the invitation for days, but it never came. As the older one, he decided to do what felt mature: talk to Jimin. He didn’t want to keep wondering; he needed to know if he had done something wrong.

He grabbed his phone, hesitated for a second, then tapped Jimin’s name. The call rang three times before a soft, surprised voice answered.

“Hello? Hyung?” Jimin sounded confused, cautious even.

“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi said, trying to keep his tone even.

“Is everything okay? You never call me,” Jimin added, half teasing, half worried.

Yoongi let out a quiet breath. It was true; he never called.
“I wanted to talk to you. Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s going on?”

“Alright, I’ll just say it. Namjoon mentioned your birthday party. He thought I got an invitation, but… I didn’t. Did I do something that upset you? Or—did something happen?”

There was a long pause on the other end. Yoongi could hear faint breathing, maybe a sigh.

“No, hyung, you didn’t do anything to me,” Jimin finally said. His voice was gentle but heavy with honesty. “It’s just… I invited Seokjin hyung, and I want him to feel as comfortable as possible. I’ve missed him a lot. He was gone for seven years, and I’m tired, you know? I know our groups got closer while he was away, especially after Tae and Hoseok hyung started dating, but my loyalty’s still with Seokjin hyung. I’m sorry if that hurts you.”

Yoongi’s throat tightened. He pressed his lips together, processing the words.
“I understand, Jimin. Thank you for telling me.”

Jimin hesitated before speaking again, softer this time.
“I know you still care about Seokjin hyung. He told me about what happened at the hospital… but he deserves peace now. He went through a lot, and we, his friends, went through it with him.”

Yoongi nodded even though Jimin couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I know. You don’t need to say more. I’ll respect your decision.”

“Thanks, Yoongi hyung.”

When the call ended, Yoongi stayed still, phone still in his hand. The silence around him suddenly felt too loud. Jimin’s words replayed in his head, each one a reminder of everything he had lost and everything he still hadn’t let go of. But one truth weighed heavier than the rest: Seokjin deserved peace, and Yoongi knew he couldn’t give him that.

Chapter Text

Jungkook’s POV

On Saturday, Seokjin and Jungkook closed the bakery a little earlier than usual so they could get ready for Jimin’s birthday party. Jungkook felt genuinely excited. He had thought he would only have Seokjin in Seoul, but after meeting his hyung’s friends, he was beginning to feel more confident about expanding his circle and reconnecting with his roots.

And if he was being completely honest with himself… he hoped Namjoon would be there too. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

When they arrived at Jimin’s apartment building, they headed straight to the rooftop terrace on the top floor. Soft lights were strung overhead, warm and golden against the evening sky, and the place was decorated beautifully.

“Happy birthday, Jimin hyung,” Jungkook said, handing him the gift he brought.

“Thank you, Jungkookie,” Jimin replied with a bright smile.

“Happy birthday, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin said from beside Jungkook, giving him a quick hug and offering his own gift.

“Thanks, hyung. Make yourselves at home, the drinks and snacks are over there,” Jimin said, gesturing around the terrace.

“Oh, right, I brought these to share,” Seokjin added, lifting a box of pastries.

“Thank you, hyung! You can put them on the table.”

“Of course,” Seokjin said, heading toward the food table.

Left alone for a moment, Jungkook walked toward the drink station Jimin had set up and nearly tripped on his own feet when he spotted Namjoon.

He looked… really good tonight. Namjoon was wearing black slacks and a fitted white button-up with the sleeves casually rolled to his elbows, collar slightly undone. Simple and clean, but it suited him too well, effortless and stupidly attractive.

Jungkook mentally slapped himself. Get a grip, Jeon Jungkook, he scolded as he reached for a soda.

That’s when he felt someone step beside him, close enough that the faint scent of cologne reached him.

“Jungkook-ssi, hi.”

Namjoon’s voice was warm and low, and Jungkook nearly dropped the can.

“H-hi, Namjoon-ssi,” he stuttered, straightening up a little too quickly.

“You can call me hyung, Jungkook-ssi,” Namjoon said with a soft smile, his shoulders relaxing as he spoke.

“Then… just call me Jungkook too,” he replied, cheeks warming as he tried to steady his voice.

Namjoon let out a quiet chuckle, eyes crinkling. “Alright, Jungkook. By the way, how are you feeling? Seokjin told me you were sick.”

“Oh— yeah, I’m much better now. I even went to the bakery today,” Jungkook said, rubbing his palm against his thigh without realizing it.

“Too bad I didn’t go to the office. I couldn’t stop by today,” Namjoon said, briefly glancing away with a hint of regret.

“You… you can come on Monday,” Jungkook blurted. His eyes widened, and a flush crept up his neck. “I mean, if you want. Not that you’re obligated or anything…”

Namjoon’s smile grew, softer this time. “I’ll go on Monday.”
He tilted his head toward the terrace seating area, and they naturally drifted toward two empty chairs near the railing.

Namjoon sat down first, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees, giving Jungkook his full attention.
“How’s the bakery doing?” he asked, voice curious and warm.

“Good, really good,” Jungkook replied, the excitement slipping into his tone. “We keep getting more customers, and we’ll probably need to hire more staff soon. People keep asking for deliveries on social media. I get those messages all the time.”

Namjoon’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly, a slight pause, a tiny crease between his brows.
“Everything alright with the comments and messages? Nothing strange, right?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with concern.

“No… why?” Jungkook asked, blinking in confusion as he shifted in his seat to face him better.

“It’s nothing,” Namjoon said, though his jaw tensed for a second. “But if anything unusual comes up, please tell me. Who handles the accounts?”

“I do. Seokjin hyung doesn’t like social media, he barely checks his email. He’s basically an old man,” Jungkook joked, grinning.

“That’s honestly for the best,” Namjoon murmured, exhaling quietly through his nose. “Promise me you’ll tell me if something weird happens.”

Jungkook frowned, leaning in slightly. “Namjoon hyung, you’re starting to worry me. Is there something I should know?”

Namjoon hesitated. His gaze softened, and he shifted, resting a hand briefly on Jungkook’s arm, warm, gentle, reassuring.
“I’d like to tell you,” he said quietly, “but it’s not my story to share. Just… if you ever need help, I’m here. Okay?”

“…Okay. I’ll keep it in mind,” Jungkook replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Namjoon pulled his hand back slowly, offering a small smile. “Do you want another drink? I need one too.”

“Sure, thank you,” Jungkook said, watching him stand, tall, composed, and just a little too handsome for Jungkook’s peace of mind.

As Namjoon walked away, he exchanged a glance with Seokjin, who winked at him teasingly. Jungkook knew Seokjin wasn’t going to let tonight slide without joking about it later, but he didn’t care.

He had the attention of the man he liked.

Namjoon returned a moment later. “Here, vodka soda, right?”

“Yeah, perfect. Thanks, hyung.”

They were mid-sip when the lights dimmed slightly and the music shifted, the kind of soft, pulsing beat that made everything feel warm and a little dreamy. People began gathering in the center to dance, silhouettes moving under the colorful glow.

Namjoon leaned close, breath brushing Jungkook’s ear.
“Do you want to dance?”

Heat climbed up Jungkook’s neck. “Mm… yeah.”

Namjoon took his hand, warm and steady, and led him toward the crowd. They started slow, bodies mirroring each other in small movements, the atmosphere hazy and intimate. The lights painted them in pinks and blues, and the air felt charged, almost electric, like something was about to happen.

The vibe was soft, youthful, expectant, like they were both blooming into something neither fully understood yet.

Namjoon stepped forward.
Jungkook didn’t step back.

Instead, he lifted his hand, hesitated only for a breath, then cupped the back of Namjoon’s neck and kissed him.

Namjoon froze for a heartbeat, surprised, then melted into it, kissing him back. A little clumsy at first, then slowly finding a rhythm, syncing naturally as if they’d been moving toward this moment all night.

Jungkook knew one thing for certain:

He absolutely wasn’t going to regret the teasing Seokjin would give him tomorrow.

Yoongi’s POV

Monday mornings were never kind to Yoongi. He arrived at the studio later than usual, still half-convinced the day shouldn’t have started yet. As he set up his workstation, plugging in cables, opening files, adjusting levels, he heard the door swing open with entirely too much enthusiasm for a Monday.

Namjoon stepped inside wearing a suspiciously bright smile.

“Hyung, guess what—” he began, but before he could finish, Hoseok burst in like a firework.

“Namjoon kissed Jungkook!!!” he practically screamed, out of breath and vibrating with excitement.

Yoongi froze mid-click. “What?”

“Hobi!” Namjoon groaned, covering his face. “I was going to tell him!”

“In Jimin’s party,” Hoseok continued dramatically. “They were dancing and boom, they kissed. And before you ask, no, Jungkook and Seokjin are not dating. I saw them with my own eyes. Seokjin was laughing, he even took a picture and said he was going to tease Jungkook about it later.”

Yoongi blinked, trying to catch up. “Wow. Sounds like you all had a very… eventful weekend.”

Namjoon scratched the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well… that happened. But the important thing is…” He leaned forward. “Hyung, what are you going to do now?”

“Me?” Yoongi pointed at himself, baffled.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Hoseok said, dropping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “We’ve watched you be miserable for seven years, stuck in a self-pity party of one. It’s time to actually do something.”

Yoongi looked away, jaw tightening. “I can’t give Seokjin what he deserves. He needs peace, stability… not me.”

Namjoon stepped closer, voice calm but firm. “Hyung, things aren’t like before. We don’t work for that company anymore. You have connections, resources, a whole team behind you. We can protect him, all of us can.”

Yoongi’s throat tightened. He shook his head slowly. “Seokjin won’t want to talk to me. He barely wants to be in the same room for more than two minutes.”

“Stop deciding for him,” Hoseok said gently this time. “Go ask him what he wants.”

Namjoon nodded. “Jungkook said Seokjin manages the bakery in the afternoons. You know where to find him.”

Yoongi sank back into his chair, staring at the floor for a long moment. The studio felt suddenly too small, the weight of seven years pressing on his shoulders.

“I’ll… think about it,” he finally said. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Hoseok exchanged a look with Namjoon, one of silent hope, maybe a little frustration, but neither pushed further.

For now, that was enough.

Seokjin was in the kitchen, sliding the last tray of pastries into the oven, the warm smell of butter filling the small space. He wiped his hands on his apron just as Minna stepped inside.

“Seokjin, someone is asking for you,” she said. “He says he knows you and wants to talk.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Seokjin replied, mentally running through possible names. But when he stepped out front and saw the man waiting, mask, hat, and all, his breath caught. He would recognize that posture, that presence, anywhere.

“Yoongi?” he said, the word slipping out before he could hide his surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you,” Yoongi said, voice low but steady, as if he had rehearsed those exact words.

“…Fine,” Seokjin said after a beat. He gestured toward the hallway. “Come this way. We can talk in the office.”

Yoongi followed him into the small, cluttered room at the back of the bakery. Once inside, Seokjin sat behind the desk while Yoongi remained standing for a moment, then slowly lowered himself into the chair across from him. The silence stretched, awkward and heavy.

“So,” Seokjin said, folding his hands together, “what did you want to talk about?”

Yoongi met his eyes. “How are you? Did you take the supplements?”

Seokjin blinked, unprepared for that question. “Yes. I’m fine. I’ll check my iron levels in a few weeks.”

Yoongi nodded, relief softening his shoulders. “Good. I’m glad.”

“…Is that what you came for?” Seokjin asked. His tone was calm, but his chest tightened. “To check on that? On me?”

“I care about you,” Yoongi said quietly, almost defensively.

“You don’t need to,” Seokjin replied, voice firm. “You helped me when I needed it, and I’m grateful. But that’s it, Yoongi. My life isn’t your responsibility. We’re not friends. To be honest, after seven years, we barely know each other.”

Yoongi flinched, subtle but real. “That’s not fair, Seokjin.”

“Fair?” Seokjin let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You’re going to talk to me about what’s fair?”

Yoongi looked down for a moment, jaw tight. “You’ll always matter to me. More than anything.”

Seokjin shook his head immediately. “I don’t believe that. You walked away seven years ago. You abandoned me, Yoongi. So please… just forget about me.”

“Seokjin—”

“No,” he cut in, voice finally cracking under the weight he had held down for far too long. “You said you wanted to focus on your career. Fine. Do that. And leave me out of it.”

Yoongi sat frozen, face drained of color.

“You don’t need updates on my health. You don’t need to ask about me. You don’t need to—” Seokjin swallowed. “You don’t need to care. Stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine. To each his own.”

He stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. He opened the office door with more force than he intended.

“There’s a back exit,” he said without looking at him. “Use it. No one will see you.”

And without waiting for a response, Seokjin walked out, letting the door close sharply behind him, leaving Yoongi alone in the silent, suffocating room.

10 years ago

Ever since that phone call, Seokjin had lived with a constant pressure in his chest, a tightness he couldn’t shake no matter how many days passed. Every morning he woke up wondering if today would be the day they found his number again.

Then one afternoon, while checking his mail, he noticed an envelope he didn’t recognize, a small blue one with no sender information. The moment he touched it, something cold slid down his spine.

He opened it.

Inside were two short lines, written in sharp, uneven letters:

Stay away from Suga.

I know who you are.

His legs gave out immediately. He collapsed onto the floor of his apartment, vision blurring as a violent rush of panic tore through him. His chest tightened painfully, every breath coming shorter, sharper, like he couldn’t pull in enough air. His hands trembled so hard he couldn’t even hold the letter anymore.

He tried calling Yoongi, of course he did, but the call rang and rang, and no one answered.

So with what little strength he had left, he called Jimin.

By the time Jimin arrived, Seokjin could barely speak, barely breathe, barely stay conscious.

The next thing he remembered was fluorescent lights and the stiff feeling of a hospital bed beneath him. When his eyes finally focused, Jimin was sitting at his side, eyes red, face pale with worry.

“Hyung…” Jimin’s voice cracked. “You scared me.”

Seokjin swallowed, throat tight and raw. “Jiminie… what happened?”

“You called me, but you couldn’t say anything. When I got to your apartment, you were on the floor.” Jimin wiped at his eyes quickly. “I’m going to get the doctor.”

When the doctor arrived, he asked Seokjin a series of questions, calm and patient. Eventually, he explained what had happened: a severe panic attack that escalated until Seokjin lost consciousness.

Seokjin had never experienced something like that before. Not like this, not something that swallowed him whole.

The doctor recommended therapy, grounding techniques, monitoring his stress, and reevaluating the things in his life that triggered anxiety.

Jimin handled the hospital paperwork for him and helped him back home, staying close, making sure he wasn’t alone.

But even then, even with Jimin beside him, Seokjin couldn’t shake the fear.

His apartment no longer felt safe.

His life no longer felt his.

Chapter Text

Seokjin had felt heavy ever since his conversation with Yoongi.
Back at the apartment, he sat on the couch in silence while Jungkook cooked dinner, his mind replaying every word exchanged in the bakery office.
It was the right decision, he told himself. Yoongi had left him alone when he needed him the most, so why should Seokjin let him back into his life now, seven years too late?

His thoughts were interrupted by Jungkook’s voice from the kitchen.

“Hyung, you’re spacing out again. What’s going on?” Jungkook asked gently, turning down the heat on the stove.

“Yoongi stopped by the bakery today,” Seokjin said quietly.

Jungkook froze mid-stir. “Oh… how was it?” he asked carefully.

“He said he wanted to talk, so we went to the back office. But things got… ugly. I got angry at him.” Seokjin admitted, rubbing his palms against his thighs.

Jungkook walked over immediately, worry softening his expression. “Hyung, you never really talk to me about your time with Yoongi. Not in New York, and not here in Seoul. Please… tell me. Why did you get angry? What did he say?”

Seokjin let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“I asked him what he wanted to talk about, and he asked about my health. If I was feeling better.” His jaw tightened. “And I told him I was, then asked if that was the only reason he came. To check on that.”

He swallowed, eyes growing glossy.

“And he said he cared about me. And I… lost it. Because how dare he? He left me. Why does he care now? It’s unfair. He didn’t care seven years ago, so why now?”
Seokjin’s voice cracked as tears welled up. Jungkook immediately sat beside him and took his hand, thumb gently stroking the back of it.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said softly, “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. I do think he cares about you. The times we’ve seen him… he looked like he wanted me dead.”
Seokjin let out a tiny, shaky laugh at that.

“I think he still has feelings for you,” Jungkook continued carefully, “but I don’t know why he broke up with you. That’s something only he can tell you. And listen, I’m not on his side. I’m one hundred percent Team Kim Seokjin. You’re like my brother. If you want him gone, I support you.”

He squeezed Seokjin’s hand gently.

“But if he makes you this upset… I think deep down, you don’t really want him gone.” Jungkook’s voice softened even more. “Take your time, okay? I’ll be right here. Always.”

Seokjin’s shoulders finally relaxed a little, comfort settling where the ache had been.

After he calmed down and wiped his face, they started eating dinner. Halfway through, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“Hyung… do you think I can skip closing the bakery tomorrow?” he asked, poking at his rice.

“Jungkookie, closing is my duty. You handle the mornings. Of course you can skip it, you’re not obligated,” Seokjin said, giving him a small smile. “Though I do appreciate the help.”

“Thank you, hyung!” Jungkook said, visibly relieved.

“But tell me,” Seokjin added, lifting a brow, “why do you want the night off?”

Jungkook froze, ears turning pink.
“I… I’m going out with Namjoon hyung,” he said shyly.

“Oh? Namjoon hyung, huh?” Seokjin asked, voice slipping into playful mischief. “Interesting. I might have to have a talk with him one of these days.”

“Hyung, I’m twenty-eight years old, you can’t do that!” Jungkook whined dramatically.

“I absolutely can,” Seokjin declared. “And I will. You’re my baby. I practically raised you on my back! I need to know Namjoon’s intentions.”

“Hyuuung! Oh my God,” Jungkook groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Seokjin burst out laughing, reaching over to ruffle his hair. They kept eating, talking, and teasing, Seokjin kept throwing playful jabs about the upcoming date every chance he got, much to Jungkook’s despair and secret excitement.

Jungkook’s POV

Jungkook woke up the next day feeling energized; it was his date with Namjoon, and nothing was going to ruin it. He got ready for the morning shift at the bakery, humming quietly to himself as he walked through the cool air toward the shop.

But the moment he unlocked the door, his steps halted.

A small envelope had been slid underneath the entrance, plain and unmarked with no sender. His stomach tightened. He crouched down, picked it up, and tore it open.

Inside, in sharp, uneven handwriting, were two short lines:

So, you’re back.
STAY AWAY FROM SUGA.

Jungkook stared at the words, confusion turning into dread. Suga? He didn’t know anyone by that name, not personally, but then the realization hit him like ice.

Suga was Yoongi’s stage name.

Namjoon’s warning from Jimin’s birthday party echoed in his mind, if anything strange happens, tell me immediately. He had meant online messages, but Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling that this was connected.

Heart thumping, he folded the card and slipped it into his pocket. He didn’t tell Seokjin, his hyung was already going through enough and Jungkook refused to add more weight to his shoulders until he talked to Namjoon first.

He forced himself to continue with his day, baking, serving customers, cleaning, though the letter never left his thoughts.

Back home, he took a short nap, showered, and began getting ready for the date. Namjoon had said he’d pick him up at 6 p.m., so Jungkook chose something casual but nice, something that didn’t look like he’d overthought it… even if he definitely had.

When the doorbell rang at exactly six, Jungkook rushed to open it, and nearly forgot how to breathe.

Namjoon stood there looking breathtaking, wearing a long beige overcoat that made him look even taller and broader, unfairly handsome. His smile alone was enough to make Jungkook feel weak in the knees.

“H-hi, hyung,” Jungkook managed to say, voice embarrassingly small.

“Hi, Jungkook,” Namjoon said softly. His eyes flicked down Jungkook’s outfit with undisguised appreciation. “You look beautiful.”

Jungkook flushed instantly. “You… you look really good too. Come in, let me grab my jacket.”

Namjoon stepped inside with an easy nod. As Jungkook headed toward his room, the letter flashed through his mind. He hesitated, then turned back toward the living room.

“Hyung,” Jungkook began slowly, “do you remember when you told me that if I ever got any weird messages on the bakery’s accounts, I should tell you?”

Namjoon straightened immediately. His whole posture shifted, relaxed warmth replaced by alert focus.

“Yes,” he said. “What happened?”

“When I opened the bakery today… this was slipped under the door.”
Jungkook handed him the envelope.

Namjoon took it, opened it, and as his eyes scanned the message, his face drained of color. His jaw clenched.

“I’ll handle this,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry.”

“This is bad, right?” Jungkook asked, voice tighter than he meant. “I didn’t tell hyung because… he already has so much going on. And he was upset after talking to Yoongi…”

“Yeah,” Namjoon murmured, sadness flickering in his gaze, “I heard about that.”

He folded the letter sharply. “It’s okay that you didn’t tell him. I’ll take care of it. But I do need to inform Yoongi about this.”

“Okay. If it’s going to keep hyung safe, I don’t mind,” Jungkook replied, chewing on his lower lip.

Namjoon hesitated, then said, “Actually… maybe it’s better if I take you to talk to Yoongi too. Did Seokjin tell you anything about what happened before he left for New York?”

Jungkook shook his head. “He doesn’t really talk about that time. Or his relationship with Yoongi. He did open up yesterday about their conversation, but… that’s it. I don’t want to push him.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Namjoon agreed. “But some things… you need to hear from Yoongi directly. Because I want you safe. And I want Seokjin hyung safe too.”

Jungkook nodded slowly. “Okay, Namjoon hyung. I trust you.”

Namjoon’s expression softened again. He reached out, gently lacing their fingers together.

“I promise we’ll figure this out,” he said. “But for now… let’s enjoy our date.”

And with that, Namjoon gave Jungkook’s hand a reassuring squeeze and led him out into the evening.

The next day

Jungkook had a great date with Namjoon, sweet, warm, and distractingly romantic, but the worry never truly left his mind. It sat there like a shadow behind every thought, following him through the rest of his shift at the bakery.
When he finally clocked out, he headed straight to HYBE, determined to talk to Yoongi just like Namjoon asked. The building felt huge and unfamiliar, bright lights reflecting on polished floors as he wandered down hallway after hallway.

He was squinting at a map on the wall when he finally spotted a familiar face.

“Hyung! I was so lost in this building,” Jungkook said with a breathy laugh as he approached.

Namjoon grinned, stepping close enough to press a soft kiss to Jungkook’s lips, brief but enough to make Jungkook’s heart flip.

“Hi, baby,” Namjoon said, sounding far too pleased with himself.

“Hyung, oh my god, stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” Jungkook muttered, covering part of his face with his hand, though his smile slipped through anyway.

“Alright, alright,” Namjoon chuckled. “Come on. We’re going to Yoongi hyung’s studio.”

“Oh—okay.” Jungkook straightened automatically, nerves fluttering in his stomach. He followed Namjoon down the hall, fingers lacing with his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They entered the studio, where Yoongi sat with his headphones on, lost in his work. He only noticed them when Namjoon gently knocked on the door frame. Yoongi turned his chair around and pulled off his headphones.

“Oh—Jungkook-ssi,” Yoongi greeted with a small nod.

“Hi, Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook said politely.

“You can call me hyung,” Yoongi replied, gesturing to the chair across from him. His voice was calm, but there was something weighted behind his eyes.

Namjoon spoke first. “I already showed the letter to hyung, so he knows about it.”

Jungkook clasped his hands together, trying to steady himself. “I just… want to understand what’s going on.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly, almost like he’d been expecting this. “I guess it’s time to explain.”

Jungkook straightened, hanging onto every word.

“This letter isn’t the first one Seokjin has received,” Yoongi began, voice quiet but steady. “This happened years ago, when he and I were together. There was… someone. Someone obsessed with me, or rather with Suga, with my public persona.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

“Seokjin started getting harassed online, and he received letters like the one you showed us. I didn’t know at first. I only found out when he was already reaching a breaking point… and back then, I didn’t have support from my company, or the money, or the connections to help him the way he needed.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched, guilt heavy in his expression.

“I failed him,” he admitted quietly. “This person is dangerous. They were arrested once, but released, and we managed to get a restraining order for both Seokjin and me. If this letter came from the same person, then they’ve violated that order and we can press charges.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. His voice trembled when he spoke. “Hyung never told me any of this… he must have been so scared.”

Namjoon gently squeezed Jungkook’s hand. “Seokjin probably didn’t want to worry you. And honestly, we all thought it was over. He’s been in Seoul for months and nothing happened.”

“It’s my fault,” Yoongi said suddenly. His voice cracked with frustration. “I shouldn’t have gone to the bakery. I should’ve stayed away, like I have for years. I think that person has been following me. I can’t think of another way they found the bakery.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened as realization hit him like a punch. “You… you didn’t break up with Seokjin hyung because of your career. You did it because of this. To keep him safe.”

Namjoon let out a frustrated breath. “Exactly. We told him we could find another way, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“It was the only way I could protect him,” Yoongi murmured. He looked exhausted, like the memory itself weighed him down.

Jungkook leaned forward, voice firm but gentle. “Yoongi hyung… I’m not going to judge your reasons. But Seokjin really thinks you only cared about your career. He’s still hurt. Really hurt.”

Yoongi nodded once, gaze falling to the floor. “I know. And… it’s better that he thinks that.”

The heaviness in the room settled for a moment before Yoongi straightened, businesslike.

“Let’s talk about my plan. I’m contacting my lawyers to reopen the case. We’re also hiring bodyguards for you and Seokjin. They’ll be discreet, but they’ll stay at the bakery and follow you both as needed.”

Jungkook blinked rapidly. “Bodyguards?”

“It’s necessary,” Yoongi said. “Also, do you have security cameras at the bakery?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Good. Get me the footage from the day the letter appeared. We need to review it.”

“I’ll send the recording to Namjoon hyung,” Jungkook said quickly.

“That works,” Namjoon replied with a small, reassuring smile.

Yoongi leaned forward slightly. “One more thing. If anything else happens before we can get this person arrested, call us immediately. Namjoon will give you my personal number. If things escalate, we tell Seokjin right away. I want everyone safe. Understood?”

Jungkook nodded, determination burning in his chest. “Okay, Yoongi hyung. I’ll protect Seokjin. I promise.”

Yoongi’s expression softened, just a little. “I trust you, kid. Thank you.”

When Jungkook finally stepped out of the studio, his head was spinning; too much information, too many questions, too many shadows from a past he hadn’t even known existed.

But beneath the fear, beneath the confusion and the anger on Seokjin’s behalf, something else settled in his chest, something steady, grounded, unshakable.

Resolve.

Seokjin had carried this alone for far too long.
He wouldn’t carry it alone anymore. Not while Jungkook was here.

So as he walked down the quiet hall, Jungkook made himself a silent promise, one that rooted itself deep and fierce inside him:

He would protect Seokjin, no matter what it took.
Always.

Chapter Text

Seokjin tried to continue with his life without dwelling on his encounter with Yoongi. He had more important things to focus on, especially the bakery. He needed more staff and maybe someone to manage the social media accounts instead of Jungkook. The younger one had been working too much, and Seokjin felt guilty. Jungkook deserved time to relax and enjoy the closeness that was starting to form with Namjoon.

He was thinking about all of this on his way to the bakery when he noticed someone wearing a hoodie across the street. A cold shiver ran down his spine. For a second, flashes from his past blindsided him, but he forced himself to breathe steadily, using the grounding techniques he had practiced for years. It couldn’t be what he feared. There was no way.

When he reached the bakery, the warmth inside immediately grounded him. Jungkook was carefully arranging pastries in the display, focused and meticulous as always. At one of the tables, Namjoon sat watching him with soft, unmistakable fondness.

“Hi, Seokjin hyung,” Namjoon greeted, lifting a hand with a polite smile.

“Namjoon. I’m guessing you’re waiting for Jungkookie,” Seokjin said, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah, I am,” Namjoon replied, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

Seokjin crossed his arms dramatically. “So tell me, Namjoon. What exactly are your intentions with my Jungkookie?”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he straightened in his seat. “I… well, I have the best intentions,” he said, voice slightly shaky. “We’re getting to know each other, but he knows I’m serious about him, and I—”

“Hyuuung, I told you not to do that,” Jungkook cut in quickly, his cheeks turning bright pink as he shot Seokjin a mortified look.

Seokjin couldn’t hold in his laughter. “Jungkookie, let me have this. Your man over here was turning pale.” He chuckled, then his tone shifted, becoming more serious. “But really, Namjoon. If you ever hurt him, you’ll deal with me.”

Namjoon nodded immediately. “I understand, Seokjin. I won’t.”

“Oh my god, hyung, stop,” Jungkook groaned, covering his face with one hand while waving the other in protest.

“Okay, okay,” Seokjin said, lifting both hands in surrender with a teasing smile. “Have fun, kids. I’m heading to the kitchen.”

He walked toward the back, completely unaware of the discreet security detail Yoongi had arranged. Two men, plain clothes, subtle, almost invisible, sitting inside the bakery, blending back into the quiet hum of the bakery without drawing attention.

Yoongi’s POV

It was almost 9 p.m. when Yoongi received the report from the security team he had hired for Seokjin and Jungkook.
His eyes scanned the document, and the moment he read the line about someone following Seokjin on his walk from the apartment to the bakery, his fist tightened. Heat rushed up his neck, a mix of anger and dread flooding his chest.

He was still staring at the report when the door to his studio opened quietly.

“Hyung, you’re still here?” Hoseok asked as he stepped inside, his brows knitting with concern.

“Yes,” Yoongi managed, voice low and tense.

Hoseok came closer, studying his expression. “What’s going on? You don’t look good.”

Yoongi let out a shaky exhale. “Hoba… it’s my fault.” His voice cracked as the desperation slipped through. “All of it.”

Hoseok softened immediately, worry flashing in his eyes. “Is this about Seokjin hyung? Namjoon-ah told me something earlier.”

Yoongi nodded, throat tightening. “I got the report from the security team. Someone was following him today. Hoba, he’s in danger, and it’s my fault. It’s always my fault. I hate this.”

“Hey,” Hoseok said gently as he crouched a little to meet Yoongi’s eyes, his voice calm and grounding. “Look at me. This isn’t your fault. This person is sick. You hired security, you’re taking action, and hyung will be safe. You’re doing everything you can.”

Yoongi swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I talked to my lawyers. And tomorrow I’m speaking with the company. I want to make a statement about my personal life. I’m tired of people invading my privacy. I need them to know I’m taking legal action.”

“I think that would help,” Hoseok agreed, nodding slowly, “but you also need to talk to Seokjin. He deserves to know what’s happening. He needs to be aware of the danger.”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, shoulders slumping. “I know. I just… don’t know how to talk to him without making things worse. I can’t go to the bakery, and I can’t bring him here. It’s too risky.”

Hoseok tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his thigh. “Then meet somewhere safe. I’ll talk to Tae. You can meet at our place. It’s normal for Seokjin to visit a friend, and I can sneak you out of the building in my car so no one sees you leave.”

Yoongi blinked, stunned for a moment before nodding slowly. “Actually… that would work. That’s smart. Thank you, Hoba.”

“Anytime,” Hoseok said with a warm smile as he pulled Yoongi into a tight hug. “You know you have me and Namjoon-ah. We’ve got you.”

Yoongi closed his eyes for a moment, letting the support steady him. For the first time that night, the panic loosened slightly.

No matter how terrifying the situation became, he wasn’t fighting alone anymore. And tomorrow, Seokjin would finally hear the truth, directly from him.

Taehyung had invited Seokjin and Jungkook over for dinner, so the two of them were on their way with a box of desserts in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. They took the elevator up to the tenth floor. When Jungkook rang the doorbell, Taehyung greeted them with a warm smile… but the moment Seokjin stepped inside, he felt the air shift.

Something was wrong.

In the living room sat Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin, each wearing an expression that ranged from tense to deeply worried. His heartbeat immediately spiked.

“What’s going on?” Seokjin managed to ask, placing the desserts and wine on the table. Behind him, Jungkook lightly grabbed his arm.

“Hyung, please sit,” Jungkook said softly, voice tight with nerves. “Yoongi hyung needs to talk to you.”

Yoongi hyung?
Since when were Jungkook and Yoongi close enough for that? Seokjin’s thoughts were spiraling.

He slowly sat down, eyes fixed on Yoongi. “Alright. Talk. What is this about?”

Yoongi’s shoulders dropped slightly, like he’d been preparing for this moment. “Seokjin-ah… I’m so sorry.” His voice was low, strained. He looked frustrated with himself, almost pained. He stepped forward and handed Seokjin an envelope.

“This arrived at the bakery a few days ago,” Yoongi explained quietly.

Seokjin opened the letter. The moment he recognized the style of handwriting, sharp, erratic, familiar, his entire chest tightened. His heart sank to the floor.

No.
No, no, no.
He thought this nightmare was over. That he was safe.

Yoongi continued, voice steady but tired. “I hired a security team. They’ve been watching over you and Jungkook. I’m talking to my lawyers because this person violated the restraining order. We will get him, Seokjin. I swear it.”

Seokjin found his voice, though it sounded thin. “Why… why are you helping me?”

Yoongi blinked, confused. “What?”

“This isn’t your problem, Yoongi,” Seokjin said, crossing his arms instinctively and taking a step back. Jungkook looked at him with immediate concern, eyes wide and searching.

“What do you mean it’s not my problem?” Yoongi asked, brows knitting together. “This is my fault. I went to the bakery. That’s probably how he found you again.”

“Oh.” Seokjin let out a dry, shaky breath. “So that’s it. You feel responsible. That’s why you’re helping.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook said quietly, stepping closer and gently taking his hand. His voice was soft but earnest. “I don’t think Yoongi hyung is getting involved because he feels guilty. I think… I think he cares about us.”

Seokjin’s throat tightened. He couldn’t do this. Not with all of them staring at him like they were waiting for him to break open.

“I need a minute,” he whispered, standing abruptly.

He walked out of the living room, heading straight to the bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door, bracing both hands on the sink as he tried to steady his breathing. Cold water on his face. Deep inhales. Slow exhales.

He had worked for years in therapy. Years learning to manage his anxiety. Yet the past was still powerful enough to shake him to his core.

After a few minutes, once his heartbeat finally slowed, he stepped out.

In the living room now were only Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook, all sitting anxiously, their faces soft with worry.

“Where are the others?” Seokjin asked, voice steadier.

“Yoongi hyung thought it was better to give you space after telling you everything,” Jimin said gently. “How do you feel?”

“I’m scared,” Seokjin admitted, sinking onto the couch. “But… I managed to compose myself.”

“Hyung, why didn’t you tell us any of this before?” Taehyung asked quietly, sitting beside him with his arm lightly touching Seokjin’s in reassurance.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Seokjin said, looking at all three of them. “I’m your hyung. I should be the one protecting you.”

Jungkook’s eyes immediately filled with emotion. “But hyung… you can rely on us too.”

“I know, Jungkookie,” Seokjin whispered.

Jimin hesitated before speaking again. “Hyung… this person. Is he the reason you ended up in the hospital that time years ago? The day you called me?”

Seokjin swallowed hard. “Yes. That was the first time I received one of his letters.”

Taehyung leaned forward, expression firm. “Hyung, you’re not dealing with this alone. Not this time.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook added, gripping Seokjin’s hand more tightly. “We’re going to protect you. Whether you want us to or not.”

Seokjin let out a faint, tired laugh. “Fine, fine. I won’t fight you. I’m… ready to accept your help.”

All three of them embraced him at once, tight and grounding and warm. The kind of hug that made his fear loosen, even just a little.

But then Jimin cleared his throat. “Hyung… don’t yell at me.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Jiminie?”

“I… think Yoongi hyung is trying really hard to protect you. And not because he feels responsible.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Jungkook chimed in. “He was super serious when he talked to me.”

“Guys…” Seokjin warned, narrowing his eyes, but his chest felt warm.

“And he arranged this whole meeting with Hobi hyung so you two could talk somewhere safe,” Taehyung added with a knowing smirk.

“Dear lord. I’m not doing this with you three,” Seokjin groaned, covering his face with a hand.

“Okay, okay, we’ll drop it,” Jimin said quickly.

But held by all four, Seokjin felt the fear slip away, replaced by something steady and safe. And after a long time, he allowed himself to think about Yoongi, about the possibility that Yoongi cared for him again. The dam he’d built around his heart, the one he thought was unbreakable, was beginning to crack.

10 Years Ago

After ending up in the hospital, Seokjin managed to move to a different apartment, coming up with an excuse to keep Yoongi from worrying. A couple of months passed, and everything seemed fine, except for the sleepless nights and the constant tightness in his chest. The only time he felt truly safe was when he was with Yoongi. And today was one of those days.

They had escaped from the city to a low-profile cottage in the countryside, enjoying the quiet outdoors with no one around. The two of them sat together in a small boat on the lake, trying (and failing) to fish.

“Hyung, look, I think I caught one,” Yoongi said, eyes widening as he clutched the fishing rod with both hands, struggling to keep it steady. His voice trembled with excitement.

“Ohhhh, stay strong, baby! We’re going to have sashimi for lunch!” Seokjin cheered, leaning forward eagerly, a bright grin spreading across his face.

That afternoon, they did eat sashimi, though not from Yoongi’s catch. His fish had been far too small, and they ended up using one stored at the cottage. Still, the laughter from earlier lingered in the air like warmth.

The next morning, Seokjin woke up wrapped in Yoongi’s arms. It was the first time in months he’d slept so peacefully. He slipped out of bed gently, humming to himself as he began preparing breakfast. Halfway through chopping vegetables, he turned and found Yoongi standing in the doorway, his expression tight with worry.

“Good morning, baby. What happened?” Seokjin asked softly, lowering the knife as concern bloomed in his chest.

Yoongi swallowed hard and held out his phone. “I’m sorry, hyung. Someone posted a picture of us having dinner a couple of weeks ago.” His voice was small, almost apologetic.

Seokjin took the phone. The photo showed them sitting close, laughing, sharing food. A simple moment, but to the wrong eyes, it was dangerous.

“I’ll call my manager. We’ll post a statement. I’m allowed to have friends,” Yoongi said quickly, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.

Friends, Seokjin thought bitterly, his stomach twisting. His heartbeat quickened, the old fear tightening around him again. This would only escalate things with the person stalking him.

“Yeah… do that,” Seokjin replied, forcing a smile he didn’t feel as he turned back to the stove. “I’ll finish cooking.”

But the hunger was gone.

As Yoongi stepped outside to make the call, Seokjin gripped the edge of the counter, breathing through the rising panic. The peaceful bubble they’d created out in the countryside had already begun to crack.

And for the first time, he wondered how long it would take before everything shattered again.

Chapter Text

This time, things felt different. Seokjin knew someone was out there, hiding in the shadows, following him, but he was no longer the same person he had been years ago. He had his friends. He had therapy. And even though it was difficult to fully accept, he also had Yoongi.

He felt more protected than before. Now that he knew everything, the security team waited for him outside his apartment each morning, walking him to the bakery and staying close to him and Jungkook nearly twenty-four hours a day. It had been a little intrusive at first, but he was slowly getting used to it.

Jungkook was always alert as well, and every night he walked home with the security team, staying at Seokjin’s side until they reached the apartment. Once inside, Seokjin headed straight to the kitchen to start dinner, and after a moment’s hesitation, he decided to ask something in what he hoped sounded like a casual tone.

“Jungkookie,” he called softly.

Jungkook, who had been sprawled on the couch scrolling on his phone, turned his head immediately. “Yes, hyung?” he replied, straightening slightly.

“Hypothetically speaking… if I needed to get in contact with Yoongi. Do you think Namjoon could give you, his number?” Seokjin asked, trying to keep his voice steady even as his fingers fidgeted with the edge of a towel.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “That’s not necessary. I already have it,” he said quickly. “I’m sending it to you right now.” He unlocked his phone with clumsy urgency, thumbs tapping rapidly.

“Oh. Thank you,” Seokjin murmured. The tips of his ears were noticeably red.

“So… you want to talk to Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook asked gently, watching him with careful curiosity.

“I might have things to say to him, yes,” Seokjin replied, keeping his tone even though his chest felt tight.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a small, supportive smile. “I think that’s good, hyung.”

They finished cooking together and sat down to eat, chatting about small, harmless things, but Seokjin barely tasted the food. His heart kept beating a little too fast, the weight of Yoongi’s phone number burning softly inside his phone.

No message had been sent.
But the possibility sat there, pulsing quietly, impossible to ignore.

The next day, before heading to the bakery, Seokjin finally gathered the courage to make the call. He hesitated for a long moment, staring at Yoongi’s name on his phone screen. A part of him hoped Yoongi wouldn’t pick up, that would make everything easier.

He pressed the button anyway.

To his shock, Yoongi answered immediately.

“Hello,” Yoongi said, his deep voice steady, almost gentle.

“Hi, Yoongi. It’s Seokjin,” Seokjin replied, trying his best to sound calm while forcing his heartbeat to stay under control. His fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

Yoongi let out a small, amused breath, the sound warm. “I know. Jungkook told me you asked for my number and gave me yours. He said he was worried that if I didn’t have your number saved, I wouldn’t answer, which… is true. This is my personal phone.”

“Oh. That makes sense,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as embarrassment warmed his ears. “I wanted to talk because I had something to say. I hope you’re free right now.”

“I’ve got time,” Yoongi replied. His voice was calm, open, and a little curious. “Go ahead.”

Seokjin drew in a quiet breath, steadying himself. “I wanted to thank you. The security team has been very helpful. I feel safe… and that really means a lot to me.’”

“I’m glad the plan is working,” Yoongi said. His tone shifted slightly, becoming more focused, almost protective. “I spoke with the lawyers. They’ve made progress, so we should be able to get an arrest warrant soon.”

“That would be great,” Seokjin murmured. His shoulders sagged a little with relief. “Hopefully we can get this over with. I don’t want to burden you any longer.”

There was a small pause.

“You’re not a burden, Seokjin,” Yoongi said softly, voice dipping into something fragile. It almost sounded like he was choosing each word carefully.

Seokjin swallowed, staring at the floor as his chest tightened. “Either way… I think it’s best for this to finally end. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said after a beat. “I think so too.”

Seokjin hesitated, then added quietly, “Also… the day before we talked in person, I think someone was following me.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly, the sound heavy. “Someone was following you. I got the report from my team. They mentioned it, but you were safe. They were right there, keeping track of him.”

“Oh… I didn’t know that,” Seokjin whispered, his grip on the phone loosening as a small breath escaped him. “I appreciate it, Yoongi.”

“No problem,” Yoongi said, but his voice was gentle in a way that made Seokjin’s throat tighten.

“Well… I just wanted to thank you for the help. That’s all. I won’t keep you any longer. Bye, Yoongi,” Seokjin said, as if releasing a weight he’d been carrying.

“Bye, Seokjin,” Yoongi said, and this time his voice slipped into something faintly melancholic.

The call ended.

Seokjin stayed still for a moment, phone lowered to his lap, exhaling slowly as the tension he’d been holding finally escaped his body. His shoulders sagged. His stomach flipped. The conversation had been polite, distant, safe… and yet something unspoken lingered in the quiet that followed. He wasn’t sure if it was relief, or fear, or something far more complicated, but as he slipped his phone into his pocket, he realized talking to Yoongi hadn’t left him as unsettled as he expected.

Maybe that was the part that scared him most.

Yoongi’s POV

When the call finally ended, Yoongi let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t emotional, not really, but it was something. A small step. A shift. After watching Seokjin distance himself so abruptly each time they met, even this small exchange felt like a sliver of light cutting through a long tunnel.

Still… he couldn’t allow himself to hope. Not fully. Not while Seokjin still believed Yoongi had walked away for selfish reasons. Not while that man, the stalker, was still out there roaming the streets, watching, waiting, haunting the edges of their lives.

Yoongi leaned back in his studio chair, rubbing a hand over his face.
If Seokjin knew the truth… would it matter now?
Would it change anything?
Would seven years of silence and hurt simply disappear because Yoongi said sorry?

Of course not.

And even if Yoongi told him everything, why he walked away, how terrified he had been, how the company had refused to help, how the police had failed him, how he had made the worst choice of his life trying to protect him, there was no guarantee Seokjin would forgive him.

Yoongi let his eyes drift toward the half-finished project on his screen. His next album. For weeks he’d been stuck, blocked, restless, unable to write anything that felt honest. But now, after hearing Seokjin’s voice again, after witnessing that small, fragile shift between them… something inside him loosened.

Maybe this was his chance.
To finally stop hiding.
To finally say the things he’d held onto for seven long years.
Not to win Seokjin back, he didn’t dare dream that far, but simply to tell the truth in the only way he knew how.

Through music.

Yoongi clicked his pen open, the studio silent except for the soft hum of the equipment.
If he couldn’t speak to Seokjin directly, not yet, then he would pour everything into this album. Every regret, every apology, every sleepless night remembering the look on Seokjin’s face the day he left.

A confession carved into melody.

Maybe Seokjin would hear it someday.
Maybe he’d understand.
Maybe.

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he deserved that hope…
but for the first time in years, he let himself feel a little of it anyway.

9 Years Ago

After the leaked photos of Yoongi and Seokjin, Seokjin’s nerves were stretched thin. Every night he hesitated before unlocking his phone, terrified of what new message might be waiting for him. Terrified of the person who had been stalking him for years.
He lived in a constant state of dread, of silence, of checking behind him, of flinching at shadows. But nothing prepared him for what happened next.

One evening, after finishing work, Seokjin walked down the hallway toward his apartment with heavy steps. His fingers reached for his keys and froze.

The door was already open.
Barely, just a crack. But enough.

His heart stopped. His breath caught painfully in his throat.

He pushed the door with trembling fingers.

Inside looked like a storm had torn through the apartment.
Books ripped from shelves, clothes shredded, picture frames smashed, glass scattered across the floor. All the little pieces of his life destroyed.

Seokjin’s knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor, shaking so violently he could barely breathe. His vision blurred, his chest tightening in panic.

Somehow, barely holding himself together, he reached for his phone and dialed the only person he could think of.

Namjoon.
Yoongi had mentioned that Namjoon was someone he trusted.
So Seokjin prayed he answered.

He managed to explain, barely making sense, before crawling out of the apartment entirely, unable to stay inside another second. He waited by the entrance, arms wrapped around himself, trying not to fall apart completely.

That was how Namjoon found him.

“Seokjin? Hi… I’m Namjoon,” he said softly, crouching beside him. His voice was gentle, but his eyes were full of worry. “Are you okay?”

Seokjin shook his head. “No… I’m not.” He pointed behind him with a trembling hand. “Look.”

Namjoon stood and walked into the apartment. Seconds passed. Then minutes.

When he came back out, his face was pale.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, breathless. “Did someone break in? Were you robbed?”

Seokjin forced himself to stand with Namjoon’s help. His legs felt like water. “Nothing is missing,” he whispered. “Everything is just… destroyed.”

He walked inside long enough to reach a small box hidden under his bed, one that miraculously hadn’t been found. Letters. Threats. All the messages he had received.

He handed the box to Namjoon with shaking hands.

“Someone has been sending me these,” Seokjin said quietly. “I think it’s all related.”

Namjoon opened the box. The moment he began reading, his eyes widened in horror.

“How long has this been happening?” he asked, voice suddenly sharp.

“Around… two years,” Seokjin admitted, defeated. Exhausted. Broken.

“Two years?” Namjoon repeated, disbelief turning into anger. “Yoongi never said a word.”

Seokjin lowered his gaze. “He… doesn’t know.”

“What?!” Namjoon’s voice cracked, louder than before.

“I didn’t want to make him worry,” Seokjin whispered, shrinking into himself. His hands trembled at his sides.

Namjoon exhaled a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “We need to tell him. I’m calling the police right now. And after that, we’re telling Yoongi everything.” He placed a firm yet gentle hand on Seokjin’s shoulder. “You can’t stay here tonight. We’ll figure out a better place for you. This apartment… it isn’t safe anymore.”

“O-okay,” Seokjin replied in a small voice. He felt like a child. Like a burden. Like he was disappearing.

And as Namjoon stepped aside to make the call, Seokjin looked back at the ruined pieces of his apartment, his sanctuary torn apart.

Everything was collapsing around him.
The illusion of stability, gone.
The safety he tried to convince himself he had, shattered.

He realized he was no longer in control of anything.

Chapter Text

After making sure Seokjin was safely inside the apartment, Jungkook stepped into the cool night air and hurried toward the restaurant where Namjoon was waiting for him. The place was small and intimate, lit with warm golden lights that spilled softly onto the sidewalk. Through the window, Jungkook spotted Namjoon sitting at a corner table, looking impossibly handsome in a simple sweater, scrolling through the menu with calm concentration.

The moment Namjoon lifted his head and met Jungkook’s eyes, he smiled, slow and warm, enough to make Jungkook’s heartbeat stutter. Jungkook walked over quickly.

“Hi, Namjoon hyung,” he said, slightly breathless.

“Hi, baby,” Namjoon replied, standing just enough to lean in and give him a soft kiss on the lips.

Jungkook instantly turned red, cupping his own cheek with one hand to cool himself down. “D-Did you order?” he asked, voice a little higher than usual.

“Just some wine for us,” Namjoon said gently. “I wanted to wait for you before choosing anything.”

“Oh—okay.” Jungkook sat down, still flustered. “I was just making sure hyung was okay before I came. I didn’t want to leave until he was settled.”

“That’s good, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon murmured, reaching across the table to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Hopefully this whole situation will be over soon.”

“Do you… have any updates?” Jungkook asked, bracing himself.

Namjoon sighed, his fingers brushing briefly over his jaw as if trying to ease the tension there. “Yeah. The arrest warrant was issued, but the address on file isn’t real. The police went, and no one knew anything. So now they need to locate the person first. He’s smarter than we expected. Ever since the warrant was issued, he hasn’t followed Seokjin again. But the moment he shows up anywhere, the security team will alert the police. Don’t worry we will find him.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily. “God… I just want this to be over.”

“It will be, baby,” Namjoon said, brushing his thumb over Jungkook’s knuckles. “We’re close.”

Jungkook nodded, comforted by the warmth of Namjoon’s touch.

“Oh—by the way,” Jungkook added hesitantly, “I’m switching shifts with hyung. I think it’s better if he stops taking the closing shift. It’s more dangerous at night. Even with the bodyguards… I just don’t want him out there that late. So I’ll be closing the bakery from now on.”

“That makes sense,” Namjoon said. His brows drew together in thought. “Although… that means I won’t get to see you as much.” He tapped the table lightly, then smirked. “Maybe I’ll start coming by at night to help you close.”

“You don’t have to do that, hyung,” Jungkook protested softly.

“Well,” Namjoon said, leaning in with a playful tilt to his smile, “I want to. You’re my boyfriend, and I like seeing you. Especially when you’re focused on your pastries, it’s cute.”

Jungkook blinked. Then gasped. “Wh—hyung! Stop! And—wait. Boyfriend?”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What? I am your boyfriend.”

“You haven’t asked me!” Jungkook said dramatically, crossing his arms with mock offense.

“Oh my apologies,” Namjoon said, placing a hand over his heart in exaggerated seriousness. He cleared his throat. “Jeon Jungkook, would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?”

Jungkook bit back a grin. “Yes, I will, Namjoon hyung.” He leaned in and gave him a shy little kiss on the cheek.

Namjoon melted instantly.

They spent the rest of the evening talking, eating, and sharing quiet, sweet moments. The tension from earlier slowly faded into something softer, warm and quietly hopeful. Namjoon made Jungkook laugh until his shoulders relaxed; Jungkook made Namjoon smile the kind of smile he didn’t show the world.

And for a little while, despite everything happening around them, they allowed themselves to simply be two people falling in love over dinner and warm light.

9 Years Ago

Namjoon and Seokjin explained everything to Yoongi, and the moment the words left their mouths, Seokjin could feel the anger radiating off Yoongi. It wasn’t loud or explosive; Yoongi never was. But it showed in the tight line of his jaw, in the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, and in the way he kept blinking like he needed to ground himself before he said something he’d regret.

And Seokjin knew.
He knew Yoongi was mad at him for keeping the truth hidden for so long.

But at the same time… how could Yoongi truly blame him? Someone had broken into Seokjin’s home. Someone had torn his life apart. Fear had made every decision for him, and he had convinced himself that staying quiet would make Yoongi’s life easier.

Now everything was a mess.

Namjoon managed to move him into a new apartment within a day. Yoongi insisted on paying to replace everything immediately, from clothes to electronics and all the basics he needed just to get through the week. Every time Seokjin tried to protest, Yoongi shut him down with a sharp look and a tense, “Let me help you.”

But there were things no one could replace.

His baby pictures.
The small heirlooms from his grandparents.
The pieces of his life that had survived every move, every memory… now gone.

Those were the things that gutted him the most.

And he had no one he felt he could talk to about it.

Yoongi was already worried, furious, overwhelmed, and still refusing to look directly at Seokjin for too long in case the anger slipped through. Namjoon was kind, but they weren’t close at the time, and Seokjin didn’t want to rely on someone who was basically still a stranger. Jimin and Taehyung? They would panic, and he didn’t want them dragged into this nightmare.

So Seokjin swallowed everything on his own.

He went to work.
He came back to the new apartment.
He locked the door twice, sometimes even three times.
And he stayed inside.

He barely went out anymore. The few times he tried, the pressure in his chest would rise so suddenly that he had to stop walking, clutching his phone like a lifeline as panic tightened around his ribs. Sometimes he turned back before he even reached the entrance of the building, too scared to take another step.

Yoongi visited him as often as he could, but his career was taking off, schedules piling up, rehearsals stretching late into the night, interviews and recordings filling every free moment. When he did come over, he carried groceries, clothes, and anything Seokjin might need.

But the visits felt strained.

Yoongi hovered in the doorway at first, shoulders tense, eyes scanning Seokjin’s living room as if expecting danger to be hiding in the shadows. He spoke softly and carefully, but beneath every word lingered a simmering frustration, frustration at the stalker, at the situation, and, Seokjin suspected, at himself.

Sometimes Yoongi would sit beside him on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor while rubbing a hand over his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

Seokjin’s throat closed. He wrapped his arms around himself, nails digging into his sleeves.
“I… didn’t want you to worry.”

Yoongi let out a breath, shaky and tired, full of things he wasn’t saying. His head dropped, and Seokjin saw the way his fingers trembled before Yoongi curled them into fists again.

“I was already worried,” Yoongi murmured. “I’ve always been worried.”

Their eyes met, brief and fragile, and Seokjin felt something in his chest twist painfully.

Yoongi wasn’t angry at him.
He was angry because he cared.

But that didn’t make the distance between them any easier.

Some nights, after Yoongi left for another schedule, Seokjin sat on the floor of his empty apartment, staring at the blank spaces where his life used to be: pictures, decorations, memories. All of it was gone, leaving only bare walls and silence.

He felt smaller than ever.
Lonely in a way that settled deep in his bones.

And though Yoongi tried, though he showed up whenever he could, there was something else growing between them, something heavy and unspoken.

Fear.

Fear of losing each other.
Fear of saying the wrong thing.
Fear of what this stalker could still do.

And the worst part was that neither of them had the strength to talk about it.

So the distance stayed.

And the silence grew.

And Seokjin had never felt more alone.

Chapter Text

Seokjin wanted a quiet, normal weekend, just one day where he could breathe without thinking about the stalker. Jungkook was out with Namjoon, so Seokjin decided it was the perfect moment to enjoy some rare alone time. He went to the mall, keeping a comfortable distance from the bodyguards shadowing him. After a while, he almost forgot they were there.

He shopped, wandered through stores, even treated himself to ice cream.

For a moment, he felt like anyone else.

Everything was fine…

Until he went to the restroom.

The bodyguards waited outside. Seokjin entered the cubicle, and when he came out and was washing his hands, he glanced up at the mirror—

And froze.

Behind him, reflected in the glass, stood the same face he had seen eight years ago inside his apartment.

The stalker.

He was smiling.

“So,” the man murmured, stepping closer, “you came back. After everything I did to keep you away from Suga… I told you he was better without you.”

Seokjin’s breath caught sharply. His body went rigid, yet he held his ground. He had survived this man once. He wasn’t going to break now.

“I did stay away,” Seokjin said, voice trembling but firm. “We’re not together. Why are you still bothering me?”

“You’re lying.”

The man stepped closer, eyes sharp and accusing.

“I saw him at your stupid little bakery. You’re still in his life. You never listen.”

“I am not with him!” Seokjin yelled, heat rising to his face despite the fear twisting in his stomach.

“Then why is he protecting you? Why the security? Why all this bullshit?”

He cornered Seokjin against the counter, but Seokjin refused to move.

“I don’t have those answers,” Seokjin snapped, anger finally pushing through the fear. “Ask him. Maybe he doesn’t want a crazy man roaming around him like you!”

The stalker’s eyes widened, offended and shaking

“I’m not crazy,” he hissed. “Say it. Promise you’ll stay the hell away from him. You’ll never go near him again.”

Seokjin hesitated.

He could say yes. It wasn’t even a lie. He and Yoongi weren’t together anymore. Maybe this would finally be the end.

But something inside him refused.

“No,” Seokjin said, steady. “I’m not saying it. Only Yoongi can ask me that and he hasn’t!”

The man’s face twisted.

“You don’t get to decide—”

Seokjin shoved him, harder than he knew he could. The man stumbled but grabbed Seokjin’s arm, his grip bruising. They struggled wildly, Seokjin pushing, twisting, fighting with everything he had left—

—until the bathroom door slammed open.

The bodyguards burst in.

They tackled the stalker to the floor. Seokjin staggered, catching himself on the sink as his knees buckled. One of the guards held him upright while the stalker screamed, thrashing uselessly until the police arrived and dragged him out in handcuffs.

Seokjin was escorted to the ambulance outside the mall. He sat on the edge of the stretcher, sipping water with trembling hands. His arm throbbed where he’d been grabbed; bruises were already forming.

He closed his eyes.

It was finally over.

Footsteps pounded across the pavement.

Seokjin looked up—

Yoongi.
And behind him, Namjoon and Jungkook.

Fear, raw, devastating, was written across their faces.

Yoongi reached him first.

He didn’t slow down. He didn’t hesitate. He practically stumbled onto the ambulance step, hands shaking as he cupped Seokjin’s face.

“Jin—Jin, are you okay? Did he hurt you? Please talk to me—”

His voice cracked, and it nearly broke Seokjin.

“I’m fine,” Seokjin whispered, though his voice wavered. “Just… shaken.”

Yoongi pulled him into a crushing embrace before he could say another word. Seokjin hadn’t felt Yoongi this close in what felt like forever; something like fireworks cracked open inside him.

“I thought—” Yoongi’s breath hitched against his shoulder. “When they called… I thought it was happening all over again.”

Seokjin exhaled shakily and found himself comforting him instead.

“I’m okay,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

Jungkook arrived next, sliding to a stop beside them, eyes wide with panic.

“Hyung!” he cried, grabbing Seokjin’s free hand. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you? Hyung, I swear—”

“I’m okay, Kookie,” Seokjin said softly, squeezing his hand. “Really. I’m okay.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, visibly trying not to cry. Seokjin brushed his cheek with his thumb.

“You don’t need to worry.”

Namjoon finally approached, breath uneven, phone still in his hand.

“They’re processing him now,” he said, voice tight. “Lawyers are handling the statements. This time, he’s not walking out. Trespassing, assault, prior threats. There’s plenty to charge him with.”

He looked at Seokjin’s bruises and exhaled sharply.

“This ends today. We’re done letting him terrorize you.”

Yoongi was still holding Seokjin close, forehead pressed to his temple. His voice came out quiet, trembling, so honest that Namjoon and Jungkook stepped back, giving them space.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered. “I’m so sorry he found you again. I should’ve—”

“Don’t,” Seokjin murmured, shaking his head. “This isn’t your fault.”

Yoongi’s grip tightened.

“You fought him,” he whispered, almost in awe.

Seokjin let out a shaky breath. "I wasn’t going to let him tell me what to do. I didn’t eight years ago. Why would I now?"

Yoongi’s eyes were surprised for a second, then softened, painful, tender, breaking.

"You’re the one who keeps getting hurt," he said quietly. "And you’re still protecting me."

Before Seokjin could answer, a paramedic returned with paperwork.

“You’re clear to go home,” she said gently. “Just rest.”

Yoongi immediately stood.

“I’m taking him.”

Namjoon nodded. “We’ll handle everything else. Go.”

Jungkook squeezed Seokjin’s hand one more time.

“I’ll be at the apartment as soon as Namjoon hyung’s done. Call me if you need anything.”

"It’s okay, Jungkookie," Seokjin said softly. "Stay with Namjoon. I’m alright. We can talk later."
Jungkook nodded, worry still clouding his eyes.

Yoongi helped Seokjin off the ambulance, keeping a hand on him the whole time, steady, warm, and grounding.

Eight years ago, Seokjin had been the broken one. This time, Yoongi was the one falling apart.

Seokjin held onto him gently, without resistance, knowing better than to push him away when he was this upset.

He let Yoongi take care of him.

Yoongi guided him toward the car slowly, as if every step Seokjin took needed to be protected. Seokjin didn’t protest. His body still trembled in small, residual shivers, and Yoongi’s steady hand at his back felt inexplicably grounding.

The night air was cool, soft against his bruised skin. Yoongi opened the passenger door for him, helping him ease inside before closing it gently, almost reverently. Then he rushed around to the driver’s seat, hands still shaking when he gripped the wheel.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The engine hummed quietly.

Yoongi exhaled shakily, staring straight ahead.
“I keep seeing it,” he whispered. “The guards holding him down. You struggling. The look on your face…”
He swallowed hard. “I wasn’t there.”

“Yoongi,” Seokjin murmured.

But Yoongi shook his head, the words spilling out too fast, too raw.

“I promised myself that would never happen again. I promised I’d never let him touch you again. And today, today I was eating lunch and laughing like nothing could go wrong while you were—” His voice cracked, cutting off sharply. “I should’ve—”

“Stop.” Seokjin’s voice was gentle but firm.

Yoongi finally looked at him.

His eyes were glassy. Painful.
The same eyes Seokjin remembered from eight years ago.
The same fear.
The same guilt.

"That man’s actions are not your fault," Seokjin said softly. "You didn’t fail me."

Yoongi let out a soft, broken breath.

Seokjin hesitated for a moment, then reached over and placed his hand over Yoongi’s.

It was warm.
Steady.
Reassuring.

Yoongi stared at their hands like he didn’t deserve to be touched.

“I’m okay,” Seokjin murmured. “I’m here. And you’re here. That’s enough.”

Yoongi nodded weakly, and drove.

Yoongi walked beside him the entire way up to Seokjin’s apartment, never letting more than an inch form between them. He unlocked the door with the spare key Jungkook had given him weeks ago in case something really bad happened, pushing it open quietly, as if loud noises might break Seokjin.

Inside, Seokjin sat on the couch. Yoongi knelt in front of him, pulling off his shoes gently, carefully, like touching him any harder might hurt him.

“You don’t have to—” Seokjin whispered.

“I want to,” Yoongi said, voice low.

He checked Seokjin’s bruises with cautious hands, his fingers hovering rather than touching, terrified of causing pain.
Seokjin watched him in silence.
In all these months since he returned to Seoul, he hadn’t let Yoongi close.
He hadn’t let him help.
Hadn’t let him care.

But tonight, he let the wall fall.

“Yoongi,” he said softly.

Yoongi looked up immediately.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of the past, the fear of the present, the affection they never quite killed still hanging between them.

“You’re shaking,” Seokjin whispered.

“So are you,” Yoongi answered.

Seokjin’s breath trembled as he lifted a hand and brushed Yoongi’s cheek, not with passion, not with longing, but with something deeper.

Trust.

Yoongi’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch.

“You’re safe,” Seokjin said gently. “I’m safe. We’re okay.”

Yoongi inhaled, unsteady, like those words were the only thing keeping him upright.

He rested his forehead against Seokjin’s knee.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered.

Seokjin’s eyes softened.

“I’ll try,” he murmured.

They stayed like that for hours, quiet, close, breathing through the aftershocks of the day, until footsteps echoed outside in the hallway.

Jungkook’s voice came next, hushed and frantic, followed by Namjoon’s calmer tone.

The lock clicked.

Yoongi didn’t pull away.

Seokjin didn’t ask him to.

Because tonight, after seven years of distance, they finally let themselves lean on each other again.

8 years ago

Months passed, and little by little, life in the new apartment began to feel less suffocating. For the first time in months, Seokjin slept almost six straight hours. He woke up a little less afraid. He cooked small meals. He opened the curtains again.

He was healing, but alone.

Yoongi visited whenever he could, though each visit left a hollow ache in Seokjin’s chest. Yoongi’s shoulders were always tight, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning every shadow as if danger lingered in every corner. He talked to him softly, brought groceries, tried to smile… but fear had built a silent wall between them, one neither knew how to break.

Still, Seokjin dared to hope things might get better.

That hope died the next evening.

It was a little past 9 p.m. when Seokjin returned home after a long shift. The hallway was too quiet, but he forced himself not to overthink it. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him with a tired sigh.

Everything looked normal. Calm. Still.

He took off his shoes, set the pastry bag on the counter—

Click.

A soft, barely-there sound from the living room.

A shift of weight.

Seokjin froze.

Very slowly, he turned his head.

There was a man standing in the dark corner of the room.

Smiling.

The stalker.

His clothes were messy, his hair disheveled, but his eyes, sharp and feverish, gleamed with something unhinged. He looked like he'd been waiting there for hours.

“Hi, Seokjin,” he whispered, almost delighted. “Took you long enough to come home.”

Seokjin’s breath collapsed inside his lungs. He stumbled back until his shoulder hit the wall.

“H-how did you get in?” he choked out.

The man let out a small laugh. “The kitchen window. You left it unlocked two days ago. You’re tired. Predictable. It wasn’t hard.”

Seokjin’s stomach twisted violently.

The man stepped closer, slow, casual, almost affectionate in his movements, though nothing in his eyes was soft.

“I’ve been patient,” he murmured. “Patient with you.”

“W-why are you here?” Seokjin whispered, voice trembling.

The man’s smile widened, stretching unnaturally.
“You know why.”

He tilted his head, eyes shining with feverish devotion.

“I’ve followed Suga for years. I know everything about him. Every schedule. Every place he goes when he wants to disappear. Every person he lets too close.”

Seokjin felt the world sway.

Of course.
Of course the man knew Yoongi.

A sasaeng.

“And you,” the stalker continued, his tone turning sharp, “you’re a problem. I warned you. Over and over. But you never listen.”

Every letter.
Every call.
Every message.
Every threat.

It had always been him.

“I told you to stay away,” he hissed, stepping closer. “You drag him down. You distract him. You make him weak.”

His eyes darkened, twisted with possessive rage.

“Suga shines when he’s alone. When he’s focused. When people like you aren’t ruining him.”

Seokjin’s fingers, trembling uncontrollably, slid behind his back, searching for his phone and hiding the movement with his body.

The man took another step.
Predatory. Sure.
Certain he was in control.

“I’m here to fix things,” he whispered. “To protect him. To protect Suga from you.”

Seokjin’s heart hammered painfully in his ribs. His foot edged slightly toward the door—

“Don’t,” the stalker snapped, voice cracking with dangerous tension. “You don’t get to run from this. Not after everything I’ve done.”

Seokjin steadied himself against the wall, breath trembling. He was terrified, shaking, dizzy, one heartbeat away from collapsing, but something hot and fierce pushed through the fear.

He wasn’t giving up Yoongi.

Not because a stranger demanded it.
Not because fear told him to.
Not ever.

The stalker slammed a hand beside Seokjin’s head, cornering him.

“I need you to promise you’ll leave Suga alone,” he demanded, voice trembling with obsession. “Say it.”

“I—no!” Seokjin shouted, voice breaking but strong with everything he had left. “I won’t leave him! Get away from me!”

It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t powerful.
But it was courage, raw, shaking, real.

He shoved the man back with trembling arms.

The stalker grabbed his wrist, yanking him toward the wall. They struggled, Seokjin gasping, sobbing, fighting desperately, refusing to give in—

—until the door burst open.

Namjoon rushed in with two building guards behind him.

They tore the stalker away from Seokjin, pinning him to the floor. Seokjin collapsed, sliding down the wall, his chest convulsing with silent, frantic sobs.

“Seokjin? Seokjin!” Namjoon dropped to his knees. “Hey—hey, look at me. Are you hurt?”

Seokjin couldn’t speak. Only broken, strangled sounds came out as he clung weakly to Namjoon’s sleeve.

Behind them, police arrived. The guards lifted the stalker to his feet.

He didn’t fight.
He didn’t run.
He didn’t even blink.

He just smiled at Seokjin.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll finish talking next time.”

Seokjin screamed.

His world shattered.
His breathing broke into sharp, uncontrolled gasps.
His vision blurred, narrowing into spinning tunnels of color.
His fingers clawed into his own arms as his chest spasmed violently.

“HEY! We need an ambulance!” Namjoon shouted, voice distorted like underwater.

Hands lifted him, paramedics, bright lights, oxygen mask.

“Severe panic attack.”
“He’s hyperventilating.”
“Get the IV.”
"Stay with us! Stay with us!"

The voices faded.

Everything slipped away.

At the Hospital

Yoongi arrived ten minutes later, hair messy, chest heaving, eyes wild. The moment he stepped into the room and saw Seokjin lying on the narrow bed, pale, trembling even in unconsciousness, an oxygen mask covering half his face, something inside him cracked painfully, violently.

Namjoon met him outside the doorway, shoulders tense, expression grim.

“I was going to check on him,” Namjoon said quietly, voice still shaking with leftover adrenaline. "Then I heard screaming, Seokjin’s screaming. I called building security. They forced the door open and…"He swallowed hard.

“The man was there.”

Yoongi’s blood turned to ice. “The stalker” he said, voice barely more than a breath.

Namjoon nodded. “Inside the apartment. Cornering him.”

Yoongi’s fists clenched until his knuckles burned.

“He wasn’t just trespassing,” Namjoon continued, jaw tight with anger. "He was out of his mind. The way he talked, the way he looked at Seokjin, it was like he meant every word. He’s been planning this. Watching you. Watching him. He’s dangerous, Yoongi."

Dangerous.
Obsessive.
Unpredictable.

Yoongi felt something cold twist in his chest.

“If we had been a minute later…” Namjoon didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. “He put Seokjin in real danger.”

Yoongi couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. He stepped past Namjoon and into the room like someone approaching the edge of a cliff.

Seokjin looked unbearably small.

His fingers twitched faintly, even in unconsciousness. Red crescent marks lined his arms where he had clawed at himself during the panic attack. His breaths were shallow, the oxygen mask hissing softly with every inhale.

Yoongi sat down slowly, carefully, like any sudden movement might break whatever fragile calm remained. With trembling fingers, he brushed a strand of hair from Seokjin’s forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice splitting. “God, Seokjin… I’m so, so sorry.”

Namjoon stepped into the room, face tense.

“They released him.”

Yoongi’s head snapped up. “What?”

“No physical harm was done, so they didn’t have the grounds to keep him.”

The world tilted.

Yoongi shut his eyes as a wave of white-hot rage tore through him. His entire body trembled with the force of it, helpless, furious, terrified.

He forced himself to inhale.

Then he turned back to Seokjin.

“I should have protected you,” he whispered. “I should have known. I should have seen this coming.”

He didn’t move for hours.

He watched the IV drip.
Watched the soft glow of the monitor.
Watched Seokjin’s chest rise and fall in unsteady rhythms.

He memorized every mark fear had carved into him.

And slowly, painfully, Yoongi faced the truth he had been running from for months.

As long as he remained in Seokjin’s life…
Seokjin would never be safe.

Not because of anything Seokjin had done.
But because of him.
Because of the life he lived.
Because of the people who watched, obsessed, followed, believed they owned pieces of him.

Yoongi bowed his head, resting his forehead against Seokjin’s limp hand. Tears slipped down his cheeks, falling silently onto the blanket.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Even if it means losing you.”

The words tasted like blood.

It felt like a knife twisting inside him.
A choice he hated.
A choice that shattered him.
A choice that would destroy them both.

But in Yoongi’s mind, it was the only way to save him.

That night, beside the hospital bed, Min Yoongi made the decision that would break both of their hearts.

And he did it because he loved him.

Chapter Text

The weeks after the police arrested the stalker were calm and peaceful. For the first time in months, Seokjin felt truly safe walking outside without bodyguards hovering around him or Jungkook scanning every corner like a guard dog.
He could breathe again.
He could live again.

When his birthday approached, he decided he wanted to celebrate it properly this year with everyone. He sent out the invitations, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he sent one to Yoongi too. They hadn’t talked much after everything that happened, but the memory of Yoongi’s terrified expression at the ambulance lingered in Seokjin’s mind.
Leaving him out felt… wrong.
Cruel, even.
Yoongi had been kind when he didn’t have to be. Maybe accepting that kindness was part of moving on, without the past hurting him anymore.

On the day of Seokjin’s birthday, Jungkook was buzzing with excitement. He decorated the apartment with laser focus, adding balloons, banners, and paper streamers while humming under his breath. He’d also baked a beautiful cake, carefully piping the frosting with a concentration Seokjin found incredibly endearing.

Guests started to arrive one by one, carrying gift bags, flowers, and bottles of wine, filling the apartment with warmth and noise.

“Happy birthday, hyung!” Jimin said, practically bouncing as he pulled Seokjin into a tight hug. “I’m so happy we get to spend it with you this year.”

“Me too!” Taehyung chimed in, immediately wrapping his arms around them both. “Happy birthday, Seokjinnie hyung!”

“Thank you, guys. I love you,” Seokjin said, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled.

“Now I’m jealous,” Jungkook complained dramatically, sticking his lower lip out.

“Come here, big baby,” Jimin laughed, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him into the group hug.

“I’m taking pictures,” Namjoon announced fondly as he raised his phone, eyes full of warmth as he looked at his boyfriend caught in the affectionate chaos.

“They’re all so cute,” Hoseok said from behind, recording the moment just when a knock sounded at the door.

Namjoon went to open it.

Yoongi walked in.

Everyone turned to look at him, curious, teasing, surprised. But Seokjin’s reaction was different: a sudden stillness, a flicker of shyness, the faintest pink coloring his ears.

“Hi, guys,” Yoongi said quietly as he approached. He held out a gift bag toward Seokjin. “Happy birthday, Seokjin hyung. Happy thirty-three.”

Seokjin accepted it gently, his fingers brushing Yoongi’s. “Thank you, Yoongi-ah,” he said with a soft smile he couldn’t hide.

“Alright! Everyone, let’s set the table,” Jungkook declared proudly. “Seokjin hyung and I prepared a lot of delicious food!”

“Yeeeeeaaah!” Jimin and Taehyung cheered, scattering around the apartment with renewed energy.

The afternoon unfolded in warm bursts, with laughter, clinking glasses, and shared dishes filling the dining table. The apartment felt full and alive, glowing with soft lights and the scent of Jungkook and Seokjin’s cooking.
Everyone talked at once, weaving stories together.

For the first time, all of them listened to Jungkook and Seokjin talk about their adventures in New York: wrong subway stops, bakery chaos, small victories, and late-night lessons learned the hard way. Jungkook listened, fascinated, as Hoseok and Taehyung recalled the old days before Seokjin left, and Jimin chimed in with dramatic reenactments.

And for the first time, surrounded by friends, laughter, warmth, and love…
Seokjin didn’t feel weighed down by the past.

He felt at home.

Almost everyone had already gone home by the time night fully settled in. The apartment was warm, dimly lit with fairy lights Jungkook had taped around the shelves, and the lingering smell of birthday cake still hung in the air.

Jungkook was glued to Namjoon’s side, arms wrapped around his waist like he had no intention of letting go. Namjoon ruffled his hair, smiling fondly before glancing at Seokjin.

“Hyung, Kookie and I are going to my apartment,” he announced gently.

Seokjin crossed his arms, not angry, but wearing that classic protective older brother look. “Namjoon-ah,” he warned, half–joking, half–serious, “you better treat Jungkookie well or else… bring him back tomorrow morning.”

Namjoon straightened immediately, as if receiving military orders.
“I will, Seokjin hyung. I promise.” His tone was sincere, almost solemn.

“Hyuuuung,” Jungkook complained, pouting dramatically. “I’m not a kid.”

“You are when you pout like that,” Seokjin teased. “And it’s my duty. I practically raised you.”

Jungkook groaned loudly. “Dear lord, not this again.” He stepped forward and hugged Seokjin tightly. “See you tomorrow, hyung. Bye, Yoongi hyung!” he added, waving toward Yoongi, who was sitting on the couch nursing a glass of wine.

The two left hand in hand, and Seokjin smiled softly as he watched them disappear through the door.

“My Jungkookie is happy,” Seokjin murmured, warmth filling his voice. Then, squinting dramatically, he added, “Though I will not hesitate to throw hands at Namjoon if he misbehaves.”

Yoongi huffed a soft laugh from the couch. “Oh, he knows. Namjoon-ah is head over heels. He’s not going to mess it up.”

“I know. Just… being in love doesn’t mean you won’t mess things up,” Seokjin said quietly, his voice losing that playful tone. A flicker of insecurity crossed his face before he could hide it.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, as if the words hit a little too close to home. He stared at Seokjin for a moment before speaking.

“You know… at first, I thought you two were together,” Yoongi admitted.

“What? Jungkook and I?” Seokjin burst into laughter. “That’s ridiculous. He’s a child… well, not really, but I see him as my little brother. I owe him my sanity in New York. If it wasn’t for his stubborn ass, I wouldn’t have lasted that long so far from Korea.”

Yoongi nodded slowly. “Yeah… I see it now. You really are like siblings. He’s very protective of you too. When he came to my studio to talk about the stalker… he was just as worried as I was.”

The comment made Seokjin's breath hitch for a second.
He understood Jungkook’s worry…
But Yoongi’s worry? After everything?

He didn’t ask. He didn’t dare.

“Yeah, that sounds like the Jungkookie I know,” Seokjin said with a soft smile.

Silence settled between them, gentle, expectant, heavy.

Then Yoongi spoke again.

“Seokjin…” His voice cracked just slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Seokjin froze. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, confusion knitting his brows.

Yoongi’s eyes were already shining with unshed tears.
“About everything. It was all my fault, from the stalker to the breakup… all of it. I keep hurting you, whether I mean to or not.”

“Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin said softly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t your fault. That man is sick. And he was stalking you too. You were a victim as well.”

He hesitated, then added sincerely,
“As for the breakup… I understand. We met when you were starting your career. It was fair for you to prioritize it. And look at you now, you’ve made it. I don’t really listen to your music much anymore,” he admitted with a shy laugh, “but I know you worked hard and built something incredible. I’m proud of that. I’m proud of the time we had. That man doesn’t get to take those memories from me.”

Yoongi let out a humorless, almost broken chuckle. “It was never about my career,” he murmured.

Seokjin blinked. “What do you mean?”

Yoongi swallowed hard. He didn’t look away.
“I told you we needed to break up because of my career… but that was a lie. If I had told you it was because of the stalker, you wouldn’t have agreed. And at the time, the company I was signed to didn’t care about him. They didn’t care that my boyfriend was his target. I didn’t have the money or connections to protect you. The police weren’t doing anything. I panicked. I thought breaking up was the only way to keep you safe.”

Seokjin felt the world go still for a moment, cold and sharp enough to steal his breath.
So Yoongi had left him… not because the career came first… but because he wanted to protect him.

He understood it.
And he hated it.

“You decided for both of us,” Seokjin whispered, voice tight with emotion. “You didn’t have the right to choose for me, to decide whether I could face the situation or not. You left anyway.”

Yoongi’s eyes dropped, filled with pain.
“I didn’t know what else to do. When you told me what happened, when he trashed your apartment, I was terrified, and even more terrified when I realized you wanted to hide things from me and go through it alone.”

“I understand your point,” Seokjin said, voice low but steady. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with what you did. Still… it’s done. And I’m tired, Yoongi.” His voice cracked, soft but devastating. “I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay. And I’m so damn tired of hating you.”

His eyes lifted, glossy with emotion.

“We need to move on.”

Yoongi inhaled sharply.
“I could never hate you, Seokjin,” he said, his voice trembling like it hurt to admit it. “If moving on is what you want, then… okay. But…” A faint, sad smile touched his lips. “I don’t think I’m capable of cutting you out of my life entirely.”

“Me neither,” Seokjin admitted softly. “Our friends are together. Our groups are tangled up. We’ll keep running into each other. I just… don’t want to feel like my chest is closing every time I see you.”

“I don’t want you to feel that way either,” Yoongi whispered. “So… let’s take it slow.”
He hesitated, then added, “But there’s something I wanted to ask you. You said you didn’t let the stalker tell you what to do eight years ago. What did you mean? What happened? You never told me what happened that day, and you were so shocked I didn’t want to push you.”

Seokjin hesitated, unsure whether to say it or not, but hiding it served no purpose now.
“He was threatening me,” he said quietly. “He wanted me to promise I’d leave you, that I’d get out of your life. And… he asked for the same thing this time too. But I never did.”

“He could have hurt you even more. Why didn’t you just lie?” Yoongi asked, eyes full of worry.

“Eight years ago I was terrified,” Seokjin admitted. “But I wasn’t going to let him make me give up on you. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“And now? You fought him again,” Yoongi murmured.

“It’s the same,” Seokjin said softly. “You’re the only one who gets to decide if you want me out of your life.” He let out a breath, tired and a little defeated. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? Eight years ago I stood my ground, but it didn’t matter. You left anyway. So… let’s just move forward. Please.” His voice sounded almost like a plea.

“Okay,” Yoongi whispered, defeated.

Then he left the apartment quietly.

Seokjin remained on the couch, staring at the closed door, his chest tightening with a complicated mix of relief, sadness, and something he didn’t dare name.

He thought about what had happened.
What could have been.
What was lost.

For the first time in years…
He didn’t feel crushed by the thought.

He just breathed.

And that was enough.

Yoongi’s POV

After the conversation they had on Seokjin’s birthday, a weight lifted from Yoongi’s shoulders, one he had been carrying for years. He had finally told Seokjin the full truth about why he made the choices he made in the past.
But Seokjin had also asked him to move on.
And even though the words had settled like a bruise in Yoongi’s chest, he knew he had to accept them.

At the same time, his new album was ready. Every unspoken feeling, every regret, every memory he had been too afraid to voice lived inside those melodies. The release was scheduled for the following week, and today he was on his way to a small radio station for a pre-release interview.

The studio was warm, lit by soft neon blues and purples. Posters of past artists covered the walls, and a quiet buzz of activity filled the air. When Yoongi arrived, a producer greeted him and led him into the recording booth.

The host stood, smiling brightly as she extended her hand.

“Hi, Suga. Welcome to Galaxy FM. We’re really happy to have you here.”

“Thank you for having me,” Yoongi replied, giving a polite bow. His voice was calm, but his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, a small habit he couldn’t hide when he was nervous.

They both sat, microphones adjusted, headphones on. The light above them flicked red.

Recording.

“Welcome Suga! We’re excited to talk about your new album, For You, Still.” the host began. “We were lucky enough to get an early listen, and I have to say, it’s incredibly personal. It almost feels like you’re talking to someone throughout the entire album. Is that right?”

Yoongi let out a quiet breath, eyes lowering for a moment.
“Yes. This album… it has a name and a face.”

The host’s eyebrows lifted in intrigue.
“Oh? Are you expecting this person to reach out to you once the album is out?”

Yoongi gave a soft, humorless laugh and shook his head.
“No. I made these songs to finally say the things I couldn’t before, a way to let it all out. I don’t think this person will ever hear them.”

“And why is that?”

He hesitated for half a second, then answered with a small, bittersweet smile.

“…He doesn’t listen to my songs anymore.”

The host’s expression softened, and even the producer behind the glass paused, watching Yoongi with a mix of sympathy and curiosity.

“Well,” she said gently, “we hope this person does. Your music is everywhere in Korea, you never know. If you could say something directly to them, what would it be?”

Yoongi’s breath faltered. He looked down at his hands, clasping them together tightly. His voice, when it came out, was low, steady but fragile around the edges.

“That I know he wants to move on, and I respect that. This album… it’s my way of saying everything I wanted to for years but never found the courage to. And I know my moment has passed.”
His throat tightened.
“I hope he’s happy. He deserves that more than anyone. And I’ll always be rooting for him. Always.”

He lifted his gaze, eyes slightly glazed.
“…And that I love him.”

The host blinked, touched and stunned.
“Wow… Thank you, Yoongi. I’m sure this person will find their way back to you. Your songs make it sound like you’re hoping for that.”

Yoongi smiled, small but sincere.
“Thank you.”

“And thank you for sharing something so personal with us.”

The red light turned off. The recording ended.

Yoongi removed his headphones slowly, his hands still trembling slightly. As he walked out of the booth, the host’s words followed him, echoing in a corner of his mind he had long sealed shut.

Maybe Seokjin would come back to him.

Even hoping for it hurt.
But he couldn’t stop the spark from lighting in his chest anyway.

Chapter Text

Seokjin had just finished his shift at the bakery and returned home. He took a long, warm shower, changed into comfortable clothes, and headed to the kitchen to prepare lunch. He wanted something to listen to while he cooked, so he turned on Jungkook’s speaker.

It was already connected to a random radio station.

He was about to change it when a voice he knew by heart filled the room.

Yoongi.
An interview.

Seokjin froze, fingers hovering above the speaker.

“…Yes. This album… it has a name and a face.”

Seokjin’s heart stumbled in his chest.

This is… for someone? Who?

“…it’s my way of saying everything I wanted to for years but never found the courage to.”

His breath caught.

Years…? All these years he’s been holding things in?

“…He doesn’t listen to my songs anymore.”

Seokjin winced. He remembered saying that to Yoongi at his birthday.

But the last line…

“…And that I love him.”

Seokjin’s entire body went still.

Love? After all this time? After everything? How—how could he say that so openly? Why now? Why like this?

His pulse raced wildly as he grabbed his phone.
He searched for the album.
Found it.

For You, Still.

His hands shook slightly as he hit play.

If Yoongi had something to say after all these years… after they talked at his birthday, Seokjin needed to hear it.

He started from track one.

Track 1: Love is not over

“I live without you even though it feels like dying
Over, over, love is not over…”

Seokjin inhaled sharply, his fingers curling slightly against the countertop as if steadying himself.

Yoongi… why didn’t you ever tell me? You always acted like you were fine.

“Please get me out of this endless maze…”

I wasn’t the only one lost, he realized. You were too.

“I don't think I can make it without you
Love me, love me
Come back into my arms…”

His chest tightened, a subtle tremor running through his breath as the truth settled in.

He wanted me back? Then? Now? How many times did you keep this to yourself, Yoongi?

Track 2: SDL

“Love is pouring out in the spring day…
Is it then that we miss
Or is it buried in your memories?”

Seokjin closed his eyes.

My memories… I’ve kept them locked away for so long.

“Yeah, somebody does love
But I'm thinking 'bout you…”

A quiet, broken laugh escaped him.

He pressed a hand to his chest.

Then why did it take almost a decade for us to say these things out loud?

Track 3: For us

“Come before it's too late
I got things to say
Before I go…”

Seokjin felt something clamp around his heart.

Why does it sound like a confession wrapped in a goodbye? Is he really letting me go?

“I wish I could stay with you
Know that I will wait for you…”

His lips parted.

Wait? Yoongi—you waited for me?

“Now I'm in Seoul
I'm still waitin' for ya
Will you change your mind?
I would give it all up
For us…”

He gripped the counter harder.

For us. For us. Yoongi, you can’t say things like this now… not when I’m barely holding myself together.

Track 4: For you

“I know very well
that sometimes I don't usually say
what my heart feels for you…”

Seokjin laughed softly, sadly.

You were always so quiet about your feelings, but never in your actions.

“And I know that sometimes I'm not here
for you but I want to confess to you…”

His throat tightened.

You left me… but you were scared. So was I.

“If my life is to continue
if another day comes
if I have to start over
it will be for you…”

He breathed out shakily, the weight of it sinking deep.

You would start over… for me?

Too much.
Too honest.
Too painful.
Too everything.

Track 5 (main track): I am here

The intro alone made Seokjin’s pulse race.

Then the words hit.

“I know you won't come
All that was, time left behind…”

Seokjin’s breath faltered.

He really thinks I’m not coming back. Well, I did tell him we need to move on… I mean, we should, but this is…

Seokjin was losing it.

“A thousand years will not be enough
To erase you and forget…”

He closed his eyes.

You’re right. There’s no time in the world that could make me forget you, forget us. There never will be.

“I am here, loving you…
Drowning between photos and notebooks…
Between things and memories…”

His chest tightened painfully.

I’m drowning in the memories of us too.

“I’m losing my mind,
trading one part of myself for another,
turning night into day,
and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Seokjin’s eyes blurred.

You were falling apart and I didn’t even know… I thought I was the only one.

“If you still think about me
You know that I'm still waiting for you…”

He sat down slowly, his knees weak.

I do think about you. Every day. Every time your name comes up. Every time I see your face. I never stopped, not really. I pretend I don’t, but I do.

Track 6: Come back to me

“Come back to me like you used to…”

Seokjin’s breath hitched.

Yoongi… I don’t know if I can.

“Now I could see what a life is about
I told you I'm fine tonight…”

He wiped a tear with the back of his hand.

“You were never fine,” he whispered. “Neither was I.”

“You are my pain, divine, divine…”

His heart dropped.

Pain. Divine pain. That’s exactly what we were. Beautiful and unbearable.

“I see you come back to me…”

Seokjin covered his face with both hands.

“Why would you write this?” he whispered. “Why would you let me hear all of this now?”

He didn’t know whether to cry harder…
or smile…
or scream.

All he knew was simple:

Yoongi still loved him.
And he didn’t know what to do with that truth.

Seokjin stayed frozen in the same spot for what felt like hours, the album playing on loop.
Track after track.
Confession after confession.
Every word Yoongi had kept buried for years pressed against his ribs until he could barely breathe.

He didn’t realize how long he’d been standing there, hands trembling at his sides, eyes unfocused, until the apartment door opened.

“Hyung, hi—” Jungkook started cheerfully, but stopped mid-sentence the instant he heard the music.

His eyes widened.
“Wait… oh. You’re listening to the album?”

Seokjin turned toward him, face pale, lips parted like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“You knew about this?” Seokjin asked, voice breaking in disbelief.

Jungkook raised both hands. “I knew the album existed. I didn’t listen to it; today’s the release day.” He looked at Seokjin carefully. “Hyung… are you okay?”

Seokjin let out a hysterical, breathless laugh.

“No, Jungkook. I am NOT okay!” he burst out, pacing in small, frantic steps as his chest tightened with emotion. “He said he still loves me. He made ALL these songs about me, about wanting me back, but also knowing I wouldn’t come back, but still hoping I would return to him. Jungkook, I’m losing my mind.”

Jungkook stepped forward slowly, like Seokjin was a startled animal.
“Hyung… breathe. Just—breathe. Tell me what you want to do.”

Seokjin stopped. His breath shook. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

“I need to see him,” he whispered.
Then louder, firmer, “I need to see him now.”

“No problem,” Jungkook said immediately, pulling out his phone like a soldier receiving orders. He typed fast, made a quick call, nodded twice. “Okay. He’s at the HYBE building, in his studio. I sent you the address.”

Seokjin blinked. “I can… go in?”

“Yeah. You can enter, no questions asked. Namjoon already arranged everything. He’s NOT telling Yoongi you’re coming.” Jungkook placed both hands on Seokjin’s shoulders and shook him lightly. “So GO. GO, HYUNG.”

Seokjin didn’t need to be told twice.

He ran out the door.

Everything Jungkook said was true.
Seokjin entered the building without anyone stopping him, though his heart was pounding so loudly he thought security would hear it.
He navigated the hallways, half running, whispering prayers under his breath that he wouldn’t get lost.

When he found Yoongi’s studio, he didn’t hesitate.
He knocked, loud, desperate, trembling.

“Namjoon, I told you I was almost done—” Yoongi opened the door mid-sentence.

And froze.

“…Seokjin?”

Seokjin swallowed hard. “Yoongi.”

Yoongi stepped back automatically, letting him in. “Come in. What are you doing here? Did something happen? You look like you just ran a marathon, are you okay?”

Seokjin shook his head, breath unsteady.

“I listened to your album.”
His voice cracked. “All of it. Every song.”

Yoongi went still.

“…what?”

“I didn’t think you would,” Yoongi began, voice trembling. “It wasn’t my intention to bother you. I didn’t make it expecting you to listen, I—”

He never finished.

Seokjin stepped forward, grabbed Yoongi by the collar, and kissed him.

Hard.

Desperate.

Seven years of pain and longing collided in that single second. Yoongi froze only for a heartbeat before his hands flew to Seokjin’s waist, pulling him closer, kissing him back with the same intensity, the same hunger, the same grief he had poured into every song.

The world stopped.

The years apart dissolved.

It was just them, finally, finally, finally, in the same breath again.

Seokjin cupped Yoongi’s face with trembling hands, kissing him deeper, tasting every apology, every confession Yoongi had buried in melodies.

Yoongi broke the kiss only to rest his forehead against Seokjin’s, breath shaking, lips swollen.

“Seokjin hyung…” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

Seokjin’s voice came out soft, broken, honest.

“You’re not dreaming,” he whispered. “I heard everything you wanted to say.”

His thumb brushed Yoongi’s cheek, trembling with emotion.

“And I’m here. I came back to you.”

Yoongi closed his eyes, exhaling the most fragile, relieved sound Seokjin had ever heard.

And then he pulled Seokjin into his arms, holding him like like he never planned to let go again.

Chapter Text

Six months later

Seokjin was finishing the morning shift at the bakery, wiping down the counter and setting things up so Jungkook could take over. He was just about to untie his apron when a familiar voice floated from behind the display shelves.

“Hyung, should I put these buns in the front too?” Yoongi asked, his voice slightly muffled by the black bakery mask he wore to avoid being recognized. He was dressed in the full uniform, hat, apron and all, looking more like a part-timer than one of the most famous rappers in Korea.

Seokjin huffed a laugh, shaking his head affectionately.

“Yes, that’s fine. I was just finishing anyway. I’ll help you,” he said, stepping beside him.

They arranged the warm pastries together, shoulders brushing gently. Seokjin glanced at him, amused.

“Yoongiah… you know you don’t have to come help me every day, right?”

Yoongi scrunched his nose behind the mask like a scolded cat.

“I’m unemployed, hyung. You have to take responsibility for me. So obviously, I need to help,” he replied, completely serious in tone and completely joking in intention.

Seokjin laughed out loud, giving his arm a light slap.

“Yoongi, you’re a millionaire rapper,” he said, trying and failing to sound stern. “You’re on hiatus because you wanted to be, not because you need a job.”

Yoongi crossed his arms dramatically.

“So I can’t live my dream of being a spoiled, kept boyfriend? Wow. So disappointing,” he said, pretending to sulk.

“Oh, I get it now,” Seokjin teased. “It makes sense to practice, since we’re moving into your place anyway.”

Yoongi’s eyes turned into crescents, his smile hidden under the mask but visible in every part of him.

Before Seokjin could tease him more, the front door chimed and Jungkook stepped inside with the brightest smile.

“Hyungs! Hi!” he called out, waving happily. “Namjoon and I already moved all my stuff. You just need to take Seokjin hyung’s things, and then everything will be ready.”

His excitement faded into a soft, nostalgic pout. He walked over and wrapped Seokjin in a tight hug, face pressed against his shoulder.

“Hyung… I’m going to miss you so much,” Jungkook mumbled.

Yoongi chuckled behind them.

“Jungkook-ah, you’re going to live literally one floor below us. Namjoon’s apartment is right under mine,” he said, amused.

Jungkook glared at him over Seokjin’s shoulder.
“Still! It feels different!”

Seokjin hugged him back just as tightly, smoothing a hand over the younger’s hair.

“I’ll miss you too, Kookie,” he whispered softly. “And if anything happens, anything at all, you call me, okay? Day or night.”

“I will, hyung,” Jungkook said, pulling back with watery eyes but a small smile. “I’ll finish the shift. You can go. Bye, hyungs!”

He waved them out of the bakery, still smiling, still emotional.

Yoongi intertwined his fingers with Seokjin’s the moment they stepped outside, their hands fitting together like they had never forgotten how.

A new home.
A new start.
A new life together.

Seokjin and Yoongi carried the last boxes up in the elevator to Yoongi’s apartment. The hallway was warm, sun-lit, and filled with the quiet echo of their footsteps as they made the final trip.

“I think we got it all,” Yoongi said, slightly out of breath as he set a box down by the door.

“Yes, we’re done,” Seokjin sighed, throwing himself onto the couch with a dramatic groan. His back melted into the cushions as he let his body relax for the first time all afternoon.

Yoongi laughed under his breath at the sight, then sat beside him, close enough that their knees brushed. “I still can’t believe we’re going to live together,” he said softly, eyes warm with a look that made Seokjin’s heart swell.

“Me neither,” Seokjin admitted, turning his head toward him with a small, sincere smile. “But… I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

Yoongi’s expression softened even further, his entire face warming. “We did,” he murmured. “And I want to do this right this time.”

Seokjin shifted to face him fully. “Though… are you sure you want to stay on hiatus?” he asked gently. “You love music. I don’t want you to give that up.”

Yoongi shook his head with certainty. “I’m not giving it up,” he said. “I have my private studio right here. I’ll keep making music. But I want time for us. Real time. We have years to make up for. I want to be with you, without fear, without distance, without the world pulling me away.”

He hesitated for a moment, then continued, voice lower, steadier.

“And… when I go back, there’s something I want to do.”

Seokjin blinked. “What?”

Yoongi took a breath and reached for Seokjin’s hand, lacing their fingers together. His thumb brushed softly over Seokjin’s knuckles, slow, careful, almost reverent.

“I want to announce that we’re together,” Yoongi said quietly. “I don’t want to hide anymore. I want the world to know I’m yours. And that if anyone tries to hurt you again, they’ll have to go through me first.”
He paused, giving Seokjin space to react.
“But… if you don’t want your name revealed, I’ll respect that. I’ll never push you.”

Seokjin’s heart tightened, and his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected this. Not so soon. Not in such a sincere, open way.

“I…” he whispered, his mind racing, and then slowly settling.
Finally, with determination soft but clear, he nodded.

“Tell them,” Seokjin said. “Tell them it’s me.”

Yoongi froze, his eyes widening, his lips parting in disbelief before they curved into a trembling smile. He cupped Seokjin’s face with both hands and leaned in, kissing him deeply, lovingly, as if trying to pour years of unspoken longing into a single touch.

“I love you,” Yoongi whispered against his lips.

Seokjin’s hands slid up to Yoongi’s shoulders, pulling him closer before whispering back, warm and sure,

“I love you too, Yoongi.”