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Taehyung vaguely knows something is wrong when he walks in the door, but he's too tired to try figuring it out. Everything feels wrong most of the time anyway. Most things about time don’t make much sense to him.
The shoes on the yellow rack are slightly unfamiliar, and the coats all along the wall look a bit too warm for April. Maybe Namjoon has read something about the dangers of being cold, or maybe Seokjin has decided to keep his clothing enforcement regime going for a month extra just for fun. Taehyung smiles softly, just relieved to have Seokjin to be exasperated with at all, and reaches out to touch the sleeve of one of the knee long ones before another flash hits him.
He falls back against the door, the handle pressing painfully into his side. He swore they had changed the nob into a less painful one. Maybe that hadn’t quite happened yet. Taehyung couldn’t quite place most of the images pressing through his mind. Hadn’t been able to all night.
He has seen this particular one many times before. It's the one where he's out swimming with Jimin and they find a gold ring. Taehyung has stepped on a sharp shell. He his hiding it from Jimin, but Seokjin will know as soon as he comes out to get them. Jimin smiles, eyes disappearing and teeth reflecting the setting sun, he’ll use the ring for years to come, but it’ll get lost on their trip to Paris many summers away- and then Taehyung is back in the hallway, listening for voices. He tries to blink, blinded by the yellow sky becoming white ceiling. He could have sworn the ceiling was never white. Yoongi didn’t like white ceilings on principle, said they didn’t belong in homes.
Taehyung takes a breath, standing up again. He doesn't know what time it is, has mostly given up on figuring it out, but it's dark outside the living room window as he steps inside, and no one is sitting on the couch.
He stops.
It's not the right couch.
For a moment, he is staring at a clearly yellow three-seater, then he blinks, and it becomes the green one he usually watches Seokjin and Jungkook on as they play video games, making sure to spoil their every evil plan. He turns, scans the room. He can't quite make anything stay as it should. When he looks back at the couch it's the one that stood there when he moved in. The one Namjoon spilled tomato sauce on while getting a late night snack, and that was too far gone to save in the morning.
Taehyung’s artwork flickers off the walls- reappearing across the room, leaning on the doorway, and then it's changed for a newer piece, and then there is no art in the living room. Just a vase Namjoon got from his grandma long before Taehyung met him, standing lonely on a coffee table he has long forgotten.
He stumbles out of the living room, not sure why he was there in the first place. The planets are too powerful to be walking around on his own. He is so tired already, though he is not sure what he has been doing all night. Maybe he has just wandered around. It doesn't feel like he has eaten in a while, so he can't have been close to Seokjin or Yoongi at any point, and his feet hurt. He tries not to stumble. He doesn’t want Jimin to see the cut and stop smiling.
Their bedroom door opens without the usual creek, revealing their large bed and an indistinguishable mass of people curled up in it. One of them has woken up to greet him and Taehyung almost wants to cry in relief.
It’s Namjoon. Soft, comforting voice rushing over Taehyung’s ears in a confused mumble. Taehyung stumbles forward, a last step to finally be able to relax. To breathe in the scent of sleep. Namjoon doesn’t move, frozen as Taehyung finally folds himself into unfamiliar arms.
Oh.
Taehyung can't breathe.
As messy as his brain has become, twisting reality around him for days and weeks, Taehyung’s tactile sense has never betrayed him.
This is the first time he has ever touched Namjoon.
Sound floods into Taehyung’s head. Months and years of hushed midnight conversations, breathy moans, comforting murmurs, and then Namjoon’s voice, rumbling through his chest where Taehyung’s head is still pressed. For the first time.
Namjoon is much warmer than Taehyung had thought. His hands are much heavier. There is a distance to it, a stiffness, but Namjoon doesn't push him away.
"Hey," Namjoon tries, but he doesn't know Taehyung’s name. They don't know each other. Not yet. "Are you okay?"
Taehyung becomes more aware of the tears pouring down his face. Of the speed of his breath as he gasps for air between hiccups. It's probably not a very pretty sight, but Namjoon stays steady, even as they sink onto the floor. He is very steady for being such a clumsy man. So kind for a stranger.
Seokjin is behind Taehyung, and the light is on, or it will be on, maybe a bit of both. Seokjin’s magic is permeating the air, creating a slight barrier between Namjoon’s body and Taehyung’s need. It makes Taehyung’s sobbing significantly worse. He thinks maybe bis body is even more tired than he is. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t listen to him as he tries to pull away. To get himself together.
But Seokjin always has solutions. He knows what to do when Taehyung can't figure out if it's today or tomorrow and whether Namjoon’s hair is naturally brown still or if his hair dresser did a particularly good job with the dye that month.
"Hyung," Taehyung whimpers, somehow pulling himself away from Namjoon stiff embrace, fighting gravity with his bare hands, to look up at Seokjin. Their- the primus is crouched down beside them. "Jin-hyung,"
Seokjin looks warm, but he is cautious. He is looking at Taehyung the way he looks at visiting magicians and politicians. Polite but wary. He doesn't know that Taehyung the one he spends his time protecting. He has never experienced that time before. Not like Taehyung has.
"Hello, sweetie," Seokjin curls a hand around Taehyung’s elbow, pulling him up and away from Namjoon with gentle precision, and then they're walking to the yellow couch that won't last till Christmas and Taehyung is being sat down in the opposite corner to where he has spent most afternoons for a lifetime but he doesn’t have a space on this couch or in this house or pressed against his Namjoon.
"What's your name?"
Taehyung’s breath stops again. Seokjin doesn't know his name. Taehyung doesn't know his own primus. He knows this. The knowledge feels like a swimming pool of sludge around him. He is going to drown.
"Breathe, sweetheart."
"Taehyung," Taehyung chokes out.
"Do you have a family name? A coven?"
Taehyung curls his knees up against his chest. He misses Namjoon’s warmth, even if he hasn't deserved it yet.
"I don't remember. I've always used yours."
Seokjin freezes. Not visibly, but Taehyung knows him too well not to notice.
"I'm sorry." He breathes, trying to lean a bit closer. He wants to be inside Seokjin’s shield. He yearns for it. But Seokjin has no reason to let him in. It’s his last defence between the world and his coven mates, and Taehyung is not on that list.
"How did you get in, Taehyung?" Seokjin doesn't look angry, but he is lacking the warmth Taehyung relies on. He doesn’t see Taehyung. Not really. He doesn’t understand. "This house has more enchantments than it has brick and plank."
Taehyung breathes. Seokjin knows his name. One step closer.
"The way Jimin told me." Taehyung tries to dry his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and realizes that it's soaked in salt water. He must have taken a pit stop in the ocean only a few hours ago. Maybe he had forgotten to change in the excitement of finding the ring- Taehyung stops. He breathes. He doesn't know Jimin. "We're not allowed to use it, but you never notice if you’re already asleep."
Seokjin sits like a very polite statue, eyes scanning Taehyung’s face as if it’s one of his more difficult morning paper puzzles. It's barely a twitch of his eyebrow, a slight curve to his lips, but it tells Taehyung much more than he needs to know.
Seokjin doesn't know Jimin either.
"I'm too early." Taehyung breathes. He doesn't know if he's trying to help Seokjin solve it, or if he's solving it himself.
Seokjin takes a deep breath. There's a heavy silence. "I think the planets are to blame for that. Yoongi has been talking about it for a week."
There's a harsh quiet between them before Taehyung shrugs, leaning back into the soft couch. "At least Namjoon’s blood blooms will be strong before the winter."
"It's January." Seokjin’s mask has cracked, just a little. "And you're soaked through, and half frozen over."
Taehyung blinks again and looks down on himself. Seokjin is right. Theres still ice in his hair, thumping against his forehead as he shakes his head. He is dressed for spring. Maybe has been since last spring. He is not sure if he owns more clothes. All the pieces he can remember we're once gifts from his coven and these are decidedly not that.
Seokjin thinks. Looks at Taehyung with terrifying intensity. Or at least it would be if Taehyung had a single bone in his body capable of being scared of his primus. "Let's get you in the bath then."
Taehyung doesn't quite manage to put his finger on the bath. He can only settle in the feeling of warmth around him. The bathroom is moving too much. Yoongi loves laying tile and Hoseok loves to watch him, so they redo it every other year. It looks almost like a disco ball, colour flashing across the room. He thinks the current ones might be yellow to match the couch, though whether they have flowers doesn’t quite manage to stick with him.
Seokjin’s hands are gentle against him, keep stopping his head from falling under the warm surface, keeps reminding him that he can’t breathe under there. At least not without Jungkook.
“Don’t tell Jimin about the cuts.”
Seokjin pours warm water down Taehyung’s neck, wiping the tears off his face with unfamiliar fingers. “I won’t.”
But he still doesn’t let Taehyung into his shield. Keeping him cold and alone on the outside. No matter how many times Seokjin has wiped his eyes in this bathtub, the tears keep coming back.
Once Taehyung is dry, which feels rather unfamiliar too (he fears he hasn’t been dry in a little too long), Seokjin dresses him in dry pyjamas and practically carries him to couch.
Taehyung falls asleep as soon as Seokjin allows it, curling into a blanket that smells like Yoongi, letting Seokjin’s gentle strokes over his head lull him to sleep. He isn't held the way his brain tells him he should be, but Seokjin stays close, magic laying softly over Taehyung’s skin, not quite accepting, but protective.
He wakes up, or maybe falls forward again, to sunlight and voices. Namjoon is sitting in an unfamiliar chair right by the couch, reading a book and glancing at Taehyung periodically until he realizes he's awake. Yoongi is in the kitchen and Hoseok is sitting on a barstool, observing. Taehyung can hear movement on the second floor, but Seokjin’s power curls around him like a second blanket, so he doesn't worry about it.
"Taehyung?" Namjoon asks, closing his book without leaving any kind of bookmark and scooting over to the end of his chair. "Are you feeling better?"
Taehyung nods absentmindedly, sitting up and then realizing that he doesn't have the bodily capacity to sit and lies back down. He's wearing a large, thick hoodie and it allows him to hide away the lower part of his face.
It smells like Seokjin, it’s covered in his essence. Taehyung can't quite make himself believe that it's real. Still can’t quite place which noises are current, but his vision has calmed. The room doesn’t move, muddy only in his memories.
"You had us all quite surprised," Namjoon smiles as he says it, though he doesn't look entirely comfortable. It's a strange look on him. Taehyung has never known him to be anything but the most comfortable man in the world. But then, Taehyung has never really known Namjoon before.
"Me too." Taehyung shrugs. "I don't know what happened."
Namjoon’s shoulders sink a little and he picks a foot up from the floor to balance at the edge of his seat. He is much smaller in frame than usual. It makes him look young and vulnerable. Taehyung isn't sure he was ever supposed to see this small, less grounded Namjoon. Maybe there are some perks to coming too early.
“Is it better now?”
Taehyung closes his eyes for a moment. It is calmer. Never as calm as it once was, before his magic awoke, not quite calm enough to follow Yoongi as he flickers back out of the kitchen, but he thinks he can feel the time, running gently over him like a river rather than a tsunami. “How long has it been?”
“Four days since you came. The planets should be better, I think.” Namjoon swallows, shifting. “You don’t remember anything? At all?”
"I just wanted to go home."
Namjoon’s mouth slips open a bit. Taehyung suspects Seokjin has not shared much of their revelations, though he doubts Namjoon has been doing anything but ask questions.
Seokjin appears in the doorway before Taehyung can say anything stupid, holding a very thick book and looking like a librarian of the softest kind. "Taehyung." He smiles, laying the book down on the table. Taehyung suspects it holds just about every family tree in the realm. "Are you a bit clearer today?"
Taehyung feels a vague pang of a memory in the back of his mind but manages to keep it back. To keep his focus on this conversation. "Kim."
Seokjin smiles softly, coming closer, sitting down on the other side of the couch, facing Taehyung. Taehyung takes another breath, "That is my family name. I think."
Seokjin shakes his head. "I already found you." His face stills for a moment, making him look like an ancient statue, then he makes a decision. "How long have you known us?"
Taehyung shrugs, tries to pull anything coherent out of his still very unstable mind. "Most of my life. More now, probably. I'll live for a long time."
Seokjin takes a deep breath, nods. "Would you like a hug?"
Taehyung can only nod, and then he is crawling forward into Seokjin’s solid embrace, breathing in the somewhat familiar scent and letting his body relax again. Seokjin allows him the closeness, letting Taehyung slot his body between his legs and curling long fingers into his way too long hair.
Time passes probably, but Taehyung doesn't try to keep track of it or it's direction. Seokjin stays still, running his fingers across Taehyung’s scalp and neck in methodical circles. Voices pass by, but Taehyung doesn't stir. They're just his coven. They won’t hurt him.
“How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
Taehyung doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to lose the soft warmth finally closing around his body. He is home. “I don’t know.”
-
Jimin is playing with Taehyung’s fingers when the planets shift into dead space. The magic falls around them, like electronic dolls in a power outage.
One moment they’re in the coven bed, alone. Jimin is holding him carefully, letting Taehyung rest on his chest. He's humming a melody that Yoongi won't create in a long time and staring at the star painted ceiling.
Taehyung tries to hold on to the gentle touch, but it’s not really touch. Can’t compare to the press of sheets against skin. Sensation spreads thin across time, but his vision fades with each second the planets are out of position, and he finds himself utterly alone. It’s almost quiet. The slow breathing of a thousand nights and years of weather against the window whirring around him. But there are no voices. No flickers of limbs or laundry thrown across the floor.
His brain feels like it’s been run through and scrubbed clean. He tries to figure out where he was the last time he knew where he was, but the last weeks are blurred. The buildup to the event must have been more intense than expected, though from what Taehyung had read, the main event shouldn't have lasted more than a few days.
He hopes he didn't do too many stupid things while he was out of it.
He sits, smiling sadly at the spot Jimin will sit in as he crawls out of the ridiculously large bed. The floor is slightly too cold for his bare feet, but he tip-toes to the door and the hallway outside is warmer.
He is wearing one of Namjoon’s hoodies still, and a pair of Yoongi's sleep shorts. It's not optimal for walking home, if Taehyung’s brain will supply him with the information about where he lives soon, but he will manage.
He finds the entrance hall easily, knowing the corridors from an endless array of loose memories, and picks a random pair of shoes from the back shelves, hoping the owner doesn't care too much. He also grabs a thick jacket, though he can't quite remember kind of season will greet him outside again, and pulls the door open, stepping right into Seokjin’s chest.
Seokjin doesn't need even a second to think, picking Taehyung up under the armpits and putting him back inside, before closing the door behind the both of them and gently removing Taehyung’s jacket.
Taehyung opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what he has been saying before and from experience it's usually significantly too much already.
"Where were you going?" Seokjin asks politely, helping Taehyung down onto a bench by the door and kneeling to start removing the shoes.
Taehyung opens his mouth again, this time certain he's going to say something, but nothing comes out.
"Let’s get you some soup and another nap."
Taehyung tries to hold them back, but his body is weak and Seokjin is certain. "I'm not supposed to be here."
"Then where are you supposed to be?" Seokjin helps Taehyung onto one of the kitchen stools, pulling a plate of precut mango out of the fridge and setting it in front of Taehyung.
"I come after Jimin, before Jungkook."
Seokjin does his best not to react to the names, but his facade has never been good enough to fool Taehyung. He wonders at what point he stopped trying. He hopes it isn't too long.
"My mark is on you already."
"It has always been."
Seokjin sets the broth to boil and cuts up vegetables as if he's in a trance.
It's quiet for a few moments.
"Who is Jimin?"
Taehyung smiles. "He's my soulmate." A flicker of Jimin’s laughter rings through the room. Taehyung wishes he somehow could let Seokjin hear it too. "You adore him."
"And Jungkook?" Seokjin pours the eggs onto the pan, looking at the pan as if it has all the answers.
"He's the baby of the coven, at least if you ask anyone but him." Taehyung breathes. He's never talked about Jungkook to anyone else before. "You should maybe start building a pool though. He's kind of aquatic."
Seokjin nods slightly. "Good to know."
Seokjin works in silence, but he glances at Taehyung every few minutes, as if to reassure himself that it's real. Taehyung lets himself become one with the moment, breathing in the familiar smell of broth and the deep hum of magic in the house. He is here. It's real.
Once the soup is done, Seokjin serves two deep bowls and leaves the rest to simmer. They walk over to the couch, arms brushing against each other. Taehyung follows quickly, settling down on the opposite side from Seokjin.
Seokjin stares at him for a moment, then his magic is thick around Taehyung’s body, moving him to Seokjin side and tucking him comfortingly under a warm arm. Into the spot he always sits in.
"Eat."
Taehyung eats.