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Kim Taehyung likes to throw around the word ‘talent’ a lot. For example: “our talented maknae Jungkookie,” he likes to say. “What can’t he do?”
Jimin is often present when Taehyung says these sorts of things, and he watches Jungkook accept his praise quietly, dip his head and tucks his red ears into his cap. Compliments redden his shy face and neck a flushed pink.
If Taehyung was trying to say, ‘he’s able to pick up nearly any skill quicker than any other trainee,’ it would be true. If Taehyung was saying, ‘Jungkook works hard and sees results,’ that too, would ring agreeably with Jimin, but that’s not what Taehyung means when he uses the word talented. Taehyung says talent and means “things come easily to you, effortlessly,” blind to the countless hours of work and exhaustion involved. Jimin would consider him cocky, maybe rude, even, if he didn’t think Taehyung was just immature.
Jungkook’s a quiet kid. A good kid, adored by many at the company, teachers and staff and trainees alike. He’s painfully young - it’s hard to believe that any parent could send off their child before he even knows the need for deodorant, skin still retaining some of that baby-soft translucence. Maybe he didn’t win Superstar K, but keep it up for another few years and Jimin doesn’t doubt he’ll find fame of some sort. In Jimin’s eyes, he’s a good kid, just too early to be playing this game. This fresh from the womb, he lives with not-quite-men who are hardly able to take care of themselves, let alone raise him like the parents he probably needs.
Jungkook is so young, yet parts of Taehyung seem no older. At least Jungkook is here because he wants to be.
Taehyung is here by accident. Right time, right place, and the winning lottery number of genetics: a pretty face. Jimin’s not bitter. As the only same-aged friend Jimin has here, one of the few who actually holds something in common with him, Jimin doesn’t have the capacity nor motivation to hold a grudge. Tae chews his nails after the vocal practice seonsaeng turns away from him. His posture is terrible, his haircut equally bad. His reason for being there is just that it sounded good at the time. He’s not malicious by any stretch of the word, just misguided at his worst.
Jimin feels like a parent a lot of the time, despite being the third youngest. But when Taehyung turns to face him in the stuffy practice room, after getting a dance move wrong eight consecutive times in a row, even after receiving patient repeated feedback from both Jimin and Hoseok-hyung, and says “I just don’t have the talent for dancing you do, Jiminnie,” with a sigh...
Jimin feels less like a parent or a friend and more like a brother babysitting a snot-nosed kid sibling. It’s so clear that he doesn’t get it, and Jimin doesn’t even want to begin to explain. What are you doing here, you Daegu farm boy, so far from home? Why are you here?
Talent for dance. As if Jimin got here by the hand of fate alone, not commitment and studying and an audition callback well deserved. Jimin spent two years at Busan Academy of performing arts school, never once late to practice, absorbing every bit of feedback his seniors and teachers gave him. All of it reduced to some kind of dumb luck he was born with.
But certain things are better left unsaid, sometimes, and today Jimin presses his lips together and bites his tongue, firm. “You can do it,” he insists. “Try it again with me, slower.”
Taehyung sighs again. “Alright,” he says, wiping sweat off his chin with the hem of his shirt.
*
Trainee life is not glamorous.
Nobody told Taehyung it would be, but even the camera-ready training he’s required to take is about as exciting as math class. Turn this way, look there. Don’t do that. Blink less, don’t slouch. Okay, you’re dismissed, make sure to practice before our next session.
Being a trainee means trading free time for vocal and dance lessons. It means sharing a brief break time in a practice room mostly with tired, overworked dorm hyungs, instead of hanging out at the mall with friends.
Sleeping in a dorm with five others isn’t bad. Taehyung used to share rooms with his cousins a lot, though they were much younger, and liked to tackle him in the mornings to wake him up. Here, Namjoon-hyung snores loudly through the night, Jungkook’s blankets never stay on his bed, and the most horsing around Taehyung does with any of them is a few rounds of Mario Kart with Seokjin-hyung.
After Taehyung’s been there a year and three weeks, one day they’re all asked to sit down and watch an audition tape.
Jimin moves in and is maybe the least idol-like of them all. Taehyung can see the skeptical thought on Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung’s faces - this kid? Is he really Bangtan? His glasses are big, the prescription lenses thick. He wears mostly flannels or sweatshirts when he’s not in ugly exercise shorts. He’s easy to warm up to, and he doesn’t show off a lot, but even though his voice needs work, together they watched the video of him dancing and the decision was unanimous when they decided to vote him in.
Out of the group, Taehyung and Jimin are closest of all. The 95-line. When Taehyung first moved into the dorms, the trainee hyungs weren’t mean, but they worked long hours and were approaching the third year of waiting for a day that might never come.
Jimin might’ve been the reason Taehyung stuck around. He’s hard working and empathic, always offering to listen to the troubles of his roommates, despite being shy at first. And he’s somehow unreserved in praising others. Maybe he’s Jungkook’s best hyung.
At first, they’re together by circumstance. After month seven, he’s definitely Taehyung’s best friend. Without him, Taehyung’s not sure how much longer he would’ve been willing to hold his breath.
*
Jimin’s Busan classmates still text him sometimes. One day he gets off the phone with eomma (a short conversation, because after about a month of trainee life there’s really wasn’t much new to report anymore) and there’s a video message from a few of them, the practice bugs he’d always spent the most time with.
It’s short, cute. All of them leaning in close over a table in a little restaurant Jimin thinks he recognizes, plates empty. A warmly lit, slightly too-loud, end of the week “Fighting!!! We miss you, we know you’ll debut soon, hang in there!”
It’s well meaning but it strikes a chord hard , echoing in the nighttime studio, and it’s not the kind of sound that feels good.
His friends. God, he misses his friends. Is it bad to say he doesn’t miss their individual personalities more than the feeling of belonging, of being among those of his own age, and not second-guessing every other step?
He’s not that close with any of the trainees so far and homesickness sticks close on the days he locks up the practice room alone, long after dinnertime. Sweaty shirt on his back, lump in his throat, it’s a serious thought: trainee life might not be what he’s cut out for, and nearly every night he mulls this over on his walk back to the dorms.
He gets home late today. No light, but since the shared living space is easy to feel around, so packed with stuff as it is. Nearly soundless, the door shuts with a click behind him and his shoes are already off. He gropes around to find the hallway, grabs the first clean shirt out of his closet corner, drops his socks and sweatshirt in the laundry hamper, and closes the bathroom door quietly before flicking the light on.
First, a deep breath, complete silence again in the house. The bare bulb is enough to hurt his eyes for a brief moment, then he adjusts. He starts the tap for warm water, and then, while gathering facial cleanser lather in his palms, steps back and meets bare foot to cold water.
He looks over, toes curling: the floor is one big puddle, as though someone took a shower without minding that the shower curtain was on the wrong side, and then didn’t bother to clean up. Frustrated, he moves around it. Of all things, it’s nearly inconsequential at this point. Taehyung never learns.
Logic says, wouldn’t it be better if you did your crying before washing up, instead of during? But Jimin can’t help it. Too many days of salty reconstituted noodles should mean he has little moisture to spare, but here he is with his giant ugly tears, anyway, making a giant mess of himself. He’d keep the light off, if he had the choice not to look at himself. He probably could - it’s well past 2am, and he’s always quiet enough that nobody even stirs when he comes in, but there’s always the chance that Yoongi-hyung might be up, a workaholic of his own species. Jimin doesn’t like to risk such things, so he keeps the light on for privacy’s sake even though what he’d really like is to cry loudly in the dark.
Sharing a dorm with six others is hard - even harder with seven or eight, a few months ago - but Jimin will live. Maybe in a few years he’ll have a proper place to be a sad, lonely fuck. For now, he’s good at turning that part of him off for a right moment.
He shuts the tap, a little bit of foam still on his wrists. It’s hard to keep hiccups in but Jimin’s great at holding things quietly, great at being careful not to knock anything over while getting his moisturizer cream from the crowded cabinet. Cautious to make sure his sniffles just sound like washing up sloppy, water up his nose, instead of a homesick brat’s aching heart.
Teeth clean, shirt soft, sleep comes easy with a spent sort of peace. His body’s automatic defence is to shut the body down. It’s that time of the week, he supposes. He’ll sleep empty and forget yesterday’s evaluation so he can prepare for the next. He’ll be fine again in the morning, back to the Jimin who will work even harder or die trying.
*
Debut in one word is overstimulation.
From the start, it’s a whirlwind of sorts. From the moment they sign their contracts and call their parents, it begins, and there hasn’t been a real pause since.
They all go home together that day. Taehyung’s eyelashes are still wet when Jimin finds him in the company lobby, and that alone nearly starts him off on a new round of messy tears. They hug tight and laugh through their snot. It almost doesn’t seem real. They celebrate, as much as broke trainees can, anyway. And after that…
Every new experience is something Jimin thinks he’ll remember, except there are so many he’s no longer been able to keep count. From the jacket shooting to the first filming to the finalization of their choreography. The preparation is equal parts anxiety and excitement. D-day couldn’t come any sooner, until it does.
A lot happens for the first time. Their first rehearsal; first time greeting sunbae groups (“Hyung, is that MBLAQ?”); first anxious performance monitoring; first time seeing actual fans - their fans - come out for a performance. Jimin remembers the day as mostly a blur. The unusual quiet while they were gathered in the waiting room, the swelling in his chest while watching their broadcast on a TV screen. Filing off stage, breathing hard, and maybe most memorable: turning around to find his oldest hyung fighting tears. So many things to file away from that day, and that’s the most vivid image he can conjure up, a moment where he’d reached out for Seokjin-hyung, and thought came to a surprised stop.
Like many moments since debut, there wasn’t much time to linger, but it certainly left an impression. Every day left something, whether it was the gold liquid marker on his hand after the first fansign, or the enormous photo library on his phone, a collection of articles he’d screenshotted and moments with the members and staff backstage.
A month passes and it’s easy to feel like trainee days are far in the past. Their lives are completely different now. It’s stressful but it’s fun. Just...overwhelming at times.
It’s no secret that Jimin had been against lifting his shirt onstage from the start, but there’s something satisfying about the response. Dieting sucks, and working out is hard, but the work he put in is being recognized, at least, and Jimin allows himself to take pride in that. When figure is brought up during interviews, Jimin can be a little greasy and get away with it. His outfits too - fishnet sometimes, loose hems - it’s easy to play the part.
Staring down his meager meal is no less of a bummer, but nowadays it’s a little easier to resist temptation to snack, now that he has public eye to think about.
It’s also easy to find distractions. Doing research, as Jimin thinks of it.
Okay. Watching Taeyang fancams is what he’s doing. It’s for a good reason, though. There’s lots of things Jimin needs to get better at, and how is he supposed to have good stage presence if he doesn’t know exactly what it looks like?
“You don’t have to justify your Big Bang crush to me,” Taehyung says. “And quit pausing, I’m trying to watch too.”
Jimin presses play again. Taehyung’s breath smells like fried rice, but at least he was nice enough not to eat in front of him this time.
“So cool,” Taehyung mutters. “You think we’ll get to meet to them one day?”
“Sounds impossible,” Jimin says after a moment. His stomach rumbles, unrelenting. The video on his phone ends and is about to play another when Jimin turns it off, noticing the time.
“Why?” Taehyung complains, half holding Jimin’s arm.
“Break time’s over,” Sungdeuk-saeng calls, getting ready to start the music again. “Let’s get to work so we can get all the moves down in time.”
*
Taehyung wakes up when someone full-on tackles him over the sheets.
“Wake up,” Jimin says, close to his ear as he continues to manhandle him about. “Taehyungie, it’s time to wake uuup.”
From what he can see, it’s quite light in the room when Taehyung opens his eyes. It’s the first time sleeping in his own bed since they got back from Japan, and it’s like his achy body has melted, now that it’s found his own mattress.
Jimin pulls the sheets down to his chest, peering down at him with cute puffy eyes and a grin. Somewhere in the other side of the room, Jungkook giggles.
Taehyung mumbles not-quite words, stretching as much as he can with someone on top of him. “What time is it?”
“Huh?” Jimin doesn’t really make it easy to answer as he squishes and wrestles Taehyung around for a little longer, hyper in the well-rested type of way.
“I’m up,” Taehyung manages, after having been rolled into a blanket-pillow dumpling. “I’m going, I’m going.”
Jimin sets him free, stepping off his bed and starting to clean up their room, tossing pillows and socks onto each respective bed. A glance around after sitting up, and Taehyung realizes he’s the last to wake. Jungkook is putting on a fresh shirt next to the doorway, his enormous bed head peeking through, and Taehyung grabs him in a headlock, which lasts only moments before Jungkook reverses their roles.
“Jin-hyung’s making pancakes,” Jimin says, squeezing by with a bundle of laundry in his arms. “Go wash up unless you wanna get roped into helping him.”
Taehyung mumbles an agreement, and Jungkook lets him go to finish getting dressed.
The dorm is what it’s always been. Messy, small, and often loud, but it’s what he’s used to. After weeks on tour, seeing the family-size bottle of shampoo on the edge of the bathtub feels like coming home.
When Taehyung comes out, Hoseok-hyung is sorting their mail on the table, next to the pile of plates and forks. Yoongi-hyung is laying on his stomach on the floor next to him, Jungkook leaning over with his palms pressing down.
“Not there, higher up,” grumbles Yoongi-hyung. “Nope, higher.”
“Okay, okay,” Jungkook makes a face at this, to Taehyung. It’s hard not to grin, and Yoongi-hyung has his eyes closed anyway. Jungkook adjusts anyway, like the begrudging masseuse he is, and Yoongi-hyung makes a sort of unsettling noise against the hardwood floor. “Are you sure you want me doing this?”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi-hyung grunts. “Just gotta get the right places is all.”
“You know, I’m telling you you’re only going to make it worse like that,” Hoseok-hyung says. There are now seven neat piles of envelopes, and he leans back and begins to tear open his own. “Why didn’t you use the heat packs the other day like I told you?”
Taehyung doesn’t stick around to hear the reply. The kitchen is a mess, with Jin-hyung in the center of it, and Namjoon-hyung, surprisingly, nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Namjoon-hyung?”
Jin-hyung looks over his shoulder, spatula in hand as he curves over the burner. “Yah, you’re awake? Do me a favor and call him, will you? He’s taking forever, and these are pretty much done.”
Taehyung likes to think he can be sneaky, but Jin-hyung nearly spots him right away, sneaking warm pancakes from the tray. The spatula comes down hard on the back of his hand. “Ahhh, hyung!”
“You’re doing the dishes later, since you were the last to get up. Hurry up and call him before we’re ready to eat.”
“Fine.”
But he’s barely managed to swallow the rest of the pancake down, and the apartment door is already beeping, telltale sounds of someone coming in and shuffling their shoes off.
“Why did he take so long?” Jin-hyung mumbles, clicking his teeth, but it’s mostly to himself as he turns back to the stove.
Namjoon-hyung brings with him a burst of cool air as he enters, grocery bag in hand. There’s a comical moment, where he stops next to Jin-hyung, just as Taehyung did, to rip off a piece of pancake of his own.
“Ah - just - really? At least tell me they had syrup.”
Mouth full, Namjoon just holds open the bag for him to see. Jin sighs.
A day without schedule is well-needed, and a break from traveling is great too. Taehyung finds Jin-hyung’s laptop and a spot in the living room, and is settled in comfortably, debating whether to catch up on dramas or play video games, when Jimin comes in and drops a load of clean clothes all over him.
“Help me sort this before we eat,” he says. “This is supposed to be your job, you know you’re doing the dishes later, right?”
“Ugh.”
Taehyung is content to lie there, clean warm clothes surrounding him while he makes whiny complaints, but Jimin has other ideas. “Don’t make me punch you in the dick,” he says, arms crossed, one sweatpant leg pulled up farther than the other. “Really.”
The comment has Taehyung sitting up faster than he’d like to admit, though they both giggle. For all the nagging, Jimin helps him anyway, and they’re done just as it’s time to eat.
As a group they have a few things to discuss, plans to go over. It’s past due for a full, serious work conversation, but for now: “Let’s save the team meeting for later,” Namjoon-hyung says. “We’ll do it when we get back.”
There’s no planned practice or work today, even if Yoongi-hyung takes a few hours in his studio. The plan is to pack their bags, go out for dinner, and then, at night, leave all together, all in their own directions.
After the pancakes are gone (every single one of them - there are never leftovers in their house) Taehyung goes back to bed with his iPad with the intention of finishing Descendants of the Sun. He ends up watching Hoseok-hyung and Jungkook squabble over a game, and joins in before giving up, flopping to the floor, countless losses later.
Taehyung was there while he packed for Japan, and he’s here again to watch him make a small suitcase for Busan. Taehyung was in this room three weeks ago when he saw Jimin do the same thing.
But there’s a difference here. Two times, packing for two different trips. This time, Jimin’s hair is limp and un-styled, wet from showering and back to a darker shade of brown. His face is blemished and a little pink, his jaw a little rounder. He’s wearing a plain sweatshirt, and only a couple of rings, and he’s not packing three pairs of sunglasses this time, but just one. There’s room to spare inside when he zips the carrier shut, and flips it up on it’s side.
He’s the same Jimin, of course. But somehow this version seems quieter. Takes up less space. It’s like, before, he’d been ready to bounce out in front of the lens of a camera. Now he just seems thoughtful, a little sleepy, and more than anything, like a normal young guy getting ready to visit his family for a couple of days back home. A normal guy, nagging his roommates.
“You’re not playing anymore?” Jimin says, now that he’s done. He pushes the suitcase to a corner with his foot, crossing the room over to them and crouching down beside Jungkook. “Hey, let me have a turn.”
Watching them play without him makes Taehyung forget how much he sucks, and Jimin doesn’t hold a grudge when the remote is wrestled back out of his grip.
One more round, Taehyung will insist, but he won’t win, not with Jungkook playing. Not with Jimin there to tickle his sides whenever he gets anywhere close, but Taehyung wants to keep trying.
A summer day with his cousins, is what it feels like. Enjoying a time while hoping it’ll never end. Sometimes, Taehyung can’t tell what he likes more, the time spent on stage or the well-deserved break after. Neither would be as good without the other, but it feels like he’s found a family here, and while he’ll be glad for the next few days, to have some distance, and get a break, that might only prove the point further.
*
Sitting in the backseat of their van, the window seat, Taehyung enjoys having first choice of seating, for once. Everyone else is still outside, though filming is over, and most of the staff has dispersed. If he looks through the window, he can see some of them, milling around to collect their things, in no rush to get back with no scheduled activities for the remainder of the day. Namjoon-hyung saying his personal thanks to the director, maybe; Manager-nim off to try and round the rest of them up.
He’s not tired, can’t seem to get comfortable enough to sleep. He opens the wrong app by accident and ends up idling through his phone’s photo library; absently, without really looking at the photos, it’s mostly an excuse to run his fingers over the cracked glass of his screen.
Soon Jimin climbs in, kind of huffing as he crawls into the seat next to Taehyung. He has his own phone in one hand, a script in the other, but he drops his head back to recline on the headrest instead, and closes his eyes.
A few days ago Taehyung remembers overhearing him ask Hoseok-hyung, “How do I look? A little cosy, kind of nice? Not bad, right?”
He’d been joking, kind of, and when Hoseok-hyung had taken a moment before nodding, too serious, he’d gotten all flustered, in typical Jimin fashion.
Maybe it’s the tone of voice, the warm color of his hair, or maybe it’s something else altogether. Whatever it is, it’s not bad at all. It’s certainly something, enough to make Taehyung’s have a heart palpitation when Jimin’s face is so close to his, head leaning half on his arm. Not bad, not even a little.
Jimin opens his eyes, turns his body to lay with his head on Taehyung leg. “You wanna go for barbeque when we get back? Or tteokbokki? Or - patbingsoo?”
Taehyung looks down at him, surprised. Naturally, his arm comes on top of Jimin’s chest. “Cheat day?”
“I’m sick of chicken breast and packed lunches.”
“You know Hobeom-hyung won’t want to drive us.”
“That’s why just the two of us, we’re sneaking out.”
Lots of things, he could blame on Jimin. Problems caused by Jimin and his too-affectionate smile, his no-longer heavy cheeks, or his impossibly soft hands. Unfortunately Taehyung’s worst enemy is his own damn self, and the main problem is Taehyung’s absence of a brain-to-mouth filter.
Awesome, great, is what he means to say.
“Jiminnie, I love you,” he confesses instead.
Jimin can’t hold back his sudden embarrassed grin. He pushes himself up with a shove to Taehyung’s arm, flushing a little. “Aish,” he says, settling down further away from him in his regular seat as Hoseok-hyung appears at the open door. “There’s definitely something weird with this kid.”
“Why?” Hoseok-hyung asks, curious, dipping his head to squeeze through. “What happened?”
Jimin gestures to the backseat without looking. His ears are a little pink. “Someone needs to teach him how to take decent pictures, ah, really.”
Taehyung looks down a second before Hoseok-hyung, at the phone in his lap. The thumbnails he’d stopped scrolling at are a little blurry through the cracked screen, but just clear enough that you can make out the scene. Jimin, Jungkook, and Jin-hyung. They were taken weeks, maybe months ago, on a day where they tried fixing the bunk bed before Yoongi-hyung got home and ended up taking over. They’d failed, and the pictures were taken not long afterwards, silly ones while they sprawled around giggling and made a mess of the folded laundry, rolling around in and out of the frame.
One of the pictures has only Jimin in it, blurry, upside down, laughing crookedly at something Jungkook did, captured in a preceding series of shots. In this one, Jimin’s brown hair is bedhead curly, his crooked front tooth reflecting dim light.
Hoseok-hyung laughs, and Taehyung startles a little at the proximity of it. Good-natured after getting enough sleep and already being done with the day’s worth of schedules, Hoseok-hyung leans forward. “When was that?” he asks, and Taehyung pushes any last squeamishly warm and fuzzy thoughts out of his mind.
A message buzzes in his pocket a while after they’re back on the road.
[2:26] seolbing when we get back?
[2:26] i’ll pay
Not barbeque, or tteokbokki, as Taehyung would probably prefer. They are supposed to be dieting, after all, and Jimin is always the first to feel snack guilt. Taehyung weighs for a moment the pros and cons of trying to change Jimin’s mind, and decides against it.
if you pay, of course [2:28]
Taehyung taps send. His phone buzzes once more, right as Jimin leans forward to engage Namjoon-hyung in conversation.
[2:28]
Taehyung stifles a smile, locks his phone, and settles back on Jungkook’s shoulder for a brief nap.
*
There’s less than fifteen minutes before they’re supposed to be on stage.
Jungkook has just jokingly volunteered to go look for him, and that’s when Jimin shows up in the doorway. “How long does it take for him to go to the bathroom?” Namjoon-hyung had said it with a half of a smile, but there’s an ease of tension collectively, as they see him appear, now forming them into a messy heptagon throughout the room.
“Finally,” Jungkook says, even as he shuffles over, dropping a hand comfortingly on his hyung’s shoulder.
“Have a good dump?” Taehyung has to ask. “Nice and solid this time around?”
Jimin doesn’t answer him, and Yoongi-hyung looks up from the couch with a heedful, cautious gaze.
“That’s too bad,” Taehyung says, glancing over too. But Jimin’s fine, better than fine, he’s rolling his eyes. He’s excited, just nervous and jittery like the rest of them even though it’s day two - concerts have always made them like this, and this is a special one for all of them. His anxiousness is more restless than paralyzing, and that’s as good as it gets.
Staff signals them out, and Jimin is last in line, a smile forming, shoulders loose. They take a minute before going downstairs, to stand together, all of them quick to form a circle.
“Jin-hyung, don’t forget to move to the next position before the count,” Hoseok-hyung says. “Not just Jin-hyung, all of us; let’s not get tripped up. The ending formation, done, the lights, done, then the switch , done, and then the count. We’ve practiced a lot but don’t let autopilot take over and make you wait for it. And Jungkookie, watch the foot when you swing by Jimin, it’s falling a little short lately.”
“Alright,” Jungkook concedes easily. He seems eager to move, weight shifting, expression light.
“First day nerves are done and over with,” Namjoon-hyung says. The staff and photographers and manager-hyungs move around them, but the sound is down to a low murmur of camera shutters and hushed conversation. Their leader keeps his voice low. “So we have that out of the way. Rehearsals went fine too,” he continues, “”So let’s keep up with the choreography and try not to miss anything. Let’s not get too excited, and let’s stick to the original plan.”
He looks into each of their faces for a moment, movement of his hands suspended between them. Hoseok-hyung murmurs his agreement, Jin-hyung nodding too.
“As for the singing, you two have it,” he gestures to Jimin, Jungkook, Jin-hyung, and Taehyung, “And let’s not leave things out too much. Well - let’s stick to the choreography,” he repeats, “Especially in War of Hormone, Boy in Luv - we have to focus and do it well. When we come back to the middle - it looks better when we’re focused and in sync.
“Let’s match it up,” Hoseok-hyung nods.
“Right. For me, especially in “쩔어”, ”상남자”, War of Hormone and Tomorrow; we need to be in sync.”
“They told us not to get too worked up,” Hosoek-hyung reminds. “Well, just-”
Taehyung looks up. It’s time for them to start moving, he can feel it. His hand finds his earpiece on it’s own, curling it between his fingers.
“To only let loose in certain songs,” Jimin says.
“Right, So 4 More, “흥탄소년단”, and as for the rest-”
“Six minutes!” A staff member calls, cutting Namjoon-hyung off.
“We’re going,” Hoseok-hyung calls back reassuringly, a second with his hand on Yoongi-hyung’s spine.
They break.
There’s no space for deep thought here, just driven movement down the hall. Voices are back with phrases of encouragement for themselves or each other or both; a melody to warm up one more time; general mumbling until they find themselves downstairs and with the band hyungs.
Taehyung finds himself in a circle again, bigger this time. Jimin’s hand is on his when they build a cheer, shaking a little but warm. This moment tastes on the back of his tongue like hairspray, toothpaste, and hot leather. There’s a churning in his gut, a loss of feeling in his feet. There’s nothing else like it, and it’ll be forgotten and replaced by something else once he’s on stage.
“Let’s do this well,” Jimin says loud, next to him. Taehyung lets himself be swept in.
“Bangtan bangtan,” Namjoon-hyung says, and the rest follow, a chorus, voices deep.
“Bang bang tan!”
They break, again.
What carries Taehyung to his spot under the stage isn’t entirely him, but he’s there before long, crouched into place. Here it gets really loud, a combination of cheers and music echoing in a large space. Hoseok-hyung is terribly still, next in line beside him for now until Jimin comes back from getting extra tape for his wires.
When he’s here, no thought lasts or gets a chance to finish, there’s just wide-eyed anticipation as the seconds count down. Jimin is there and it snaps Taehyung into knowing soon. After breathing deep, head tilted down, Taehyung looks over at the same time as Jimin.
Nothing lasts, of course. This career is fleeting even if it doesn’t feel like it, an industry made of yet more fleeting, thoughtless moments like the one they share now. Burning supernovas, never made to outlast.
Jimin’s glance is like that - short and blistering. Taehyung is caught in the heat. Whatever they're both thinking pauses for something unspoken.
And then they both look away, back to their own selves. And then staff calls again, a signal for the lift. Earpiece in, moving on. Taehyung stands up.
*
love u good luck fighting kkt me when you’re done!!! [17:14]
*
They haven’t done promotions as six in a long time. Jimin can count on his hands the times they’ve had to, and none of them have ever felt quite right. Breaking in the new year without their leader was strange; the weeks Yoongi-hyung spent in the hospital, anxious. Jimin himself, falling over on-stage, so, so stupid-
Taehyung responds at half-past nine.
[21:31] hey
Do I have the energy to have a conversation with him? Jimin wonders. He could easily get away with pretending he didn’t see the message. All he has to say tomorrow is that he fell asleep.
[21:33] jimin-ahhhh
Never mind that. The guilt would eat him up. Either way he’s a liar, but at least this feels like some sort of twisted generosity. Give until you’ve got nothing left, he thinks, and finds the will to type again.
taehyung-ah [21:34]
how’d filming go!! [21:35]
Taehyung is quick.
[21:35] good
The typing bubble is there. Jimin wonders where Taehyung is. Jimin wonders if he’s sitting somewhere quiet, missing the right letters out of excitement to tell him. Or maybe just taking his time. Or maybe having a snack and making a mess. Or maybe talking to his new hyungs.
[21:36] really good i thik
[21:36] everyone takes care of me well
[21:37] i think it came out good
[21:37] btu everyones so much more talented
[21:37] can you believe im going to be in tv in a few months?
[21:37] i don’t know if i can wait that long
That’s nice. Meanwhile I want to stop existing, Jimin almost types. He thinks about it and almost immediately discards the idea. What would that do for him? Absolutely nothing. Stop being absurd, you child, you baby. The words banish themselves.
[21:38] it’s hard though
[21:38] memorizing the lines, ah im tired
[21:39] and hungry ᅲᅲ
they didn’t feed you?? [21:39]
Jimin asks, a little of real concern coming through.
[21:41] manager-hyung left for a while
[21:41] and they had bean noodles for lunch ᅲᅲ
Jimin swallows down something mean and sends some half-assed sympathy instead.
ᅲᅲ taehyungie….ᅲ [21:42]
It’s the least amount of effort he’s put into being sincere in a long time. A real response would mean he’d be the first one to call Taehyung out on his picky, self-centered habits. He types his next message quickly before Taehyung can respond.
i have to go in for practice but i’ll see you soon!! fighting!!! [21:43]
Text conversations between just them two usually end when Taehyung is ready, but this time Jimin leaves first. He turns off his phone and throws it, along with the attached extra battery pack, into his bag. Since when is it so clean in the practice room? There should be a stool in here but instead his knees hurt from squatting. Jimin sits down on the floor and feels no reason to get up at all right now, maybe ever.
There’s a short stack of printed papers beside him. Lyrics for songs he’s learning, songs that are supposed to be in his range, easy. He’s here with a half-empty bottle of honey water because he should be practicing, but it’s been quiet in this room for an hour now. He had to stop. With each time he cleared his throat to start over it became a little more apparent that he should just shut up. It was almost like the quiet that followed was shaming him.
It’s hard to get why things have been tough for him lately. Nothing terrible has happened to warrant being tired all the time and feeling sorry for himself. Worst of all, there’s no reason to be feeling lonely. It’s unexplainable, it’s something gross. Wasn’t he over this? He’s supposed to be better than this now. He’s supposed to be happy for other people. He’s supposed to have gained perspective.
Relapsing feels like shame. Jimin isn’t even going to try to unpack that one. Just let it sit in the back of your head, poison you. He’s not about to break routine but his hands do shake more often, and there are more fuck-ups in inopportune moments than he’d like to admit.
Break has always been like this. Hard. Sometimes more exhausting than the alternative, but at least he doesn’t have time or space for his brain to think. Jimin doesn’t pretend he knows Yoongi-hyung’s hardships that well but in moments like these, it’s one of the first things he thinks of.
When did he become this blurry figure, he wonders. And exactly how many people know who I am? Does anyone? Do I?
He leaves that thought there, moves on. It stinks like narcissism and that’s why he needs to shut it down. You have too much time on your hands if you can start feeling pity for yourself.
But it’s been hard.
Jimin wants to be able to admit that easily to himself. He’s had it hard and it hurts. Objectively speaking, it’s true, so why does he feel shame to the core while thinking about it? Certain ideas will only reveal themselves here when he’s alone, but some of them are more nonsense than anything else, just a want or a pain or a need. I want to be right, I want to not hurt. I need to be better at this now.
It’s easy to feel like he’s been awfully wronged, like the end of the world, but at least Jimin is old enough now to remember he’s likely to bury most of the feeling in a few hours.
*
The end of promotions after a comeback has always been weird.
The first week is just - giddy. Busy as hell. Pre-recordings and moments of anxiousness in hallways and waiting rooms, legs and minds restless as they scroll through their phones and count down the minutes until their stage. Will they be well received? How many mistakes will they make? How well will they stay on the charts? Will good publicity maintain, or will someone dig up something, anything from video footage or prepubescent years to blow up scandalously? There’s too many outfit changes and album signings and show appearances to even linger too long on any one worry.
Although recently, it feels less and less like the trophy and the votes matter the most. More than anything else, it’s their own satisfaction has yet to be met. The most terrifying of doubts: will they live up to their own expectations?
The fear of peaking always looms. It seems inevitable, the day of reaching disappointment. One day, Bangtan won’t quite deliver. The only way is up, but what happens when there’s nothing left to climb?
Not this time, though. This time they’ve done it again. The awful last weeks of previous rounds of promotions is a dismal memory. Instead, a brand new week. That forgotten smell of cosmetics and sweat, the fanchant loud even through earpieces. The moment before going up on the first stage, the seven of them standing in a circle. Their leader’s anticipatory smile, his proud words - “Us, Bangtan. We’ll do well, don’t you know?”
The congratulations and proud faces of their manager hyungs and company noonas. The foundation-tinted sweat beading at their temples, the heat of the stage. It’s an unspoken but unanimous thought: this is always worth it. We were meant, somehow, to be doing this.
Nerves wear off after the first few stages. Experience makes it easier to joke around and deviate off scripts. They have juniors, now, other rookies to pass on.
The second week is maybe the best. Momentum is a high, and it’s almost scary what it feels like, how manic they become in their moods. Nothing but confidence as they take their positions, as the title track still remains on the charts. Meals they scarf up together while teasing each other. Seriously monitoring the recording of their stage, and all the hours of practice, of beating themselves and each other up to perfection, finally paying off. They own the audience, the stage, the air.
Now it’s the fourth week, their last, and today, something heavy and almost sad has settled over Taehyung.
His phone lies nearby, somewhere on the table under someone’s sweater. Webtoon loaded on the first browser page, probably, and the battery nearly full because this is one of the first real opportunities to use it today, they’ve been that busy.
It’s the lack of sleep, for sure. Sleep deprivation does fucked up things, and is the sole cause of his crappy mood, but knowing that doesn’t change it. At least it’s somewhat familiar. Bangtan is no stranger to operating on ridiculous schedules. It’s part of the cycle, and it’s permanent. Resting periods will no longer be the same, because there will be a hollow, a gap they can’t fill.
But being objective is hard. He can sit outside of his head and look in instead of out but it doesn’t separate him from this sense of being off-kilter, of losing sentience. In this moment, it’s hard to keep petulance out when he pictures having to muster up enough energy to get up off this chair when it’s finally time to head to MBC. He doesn’t want to, he can’t. He’s tired, he’s itchy. He’d probably doze but there’s anxiety under his skin, too much caffeine or too many moments where he forget where he is and what he’s doing. This rush of irrational paranoia - if Taehyung was any good with words, he’d make something out of it.
Taehyung doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, when Jimin comes to seat himself lightly on his lap, one arm around his neck, bringing with him the cheap, clean hand soap smell from the nearest bathroom. Both of them face the dressing room mirror, and there’s a flicker of a smile for Tae alone before Jimin looks away to unlock his phone. Taehyung stares on, can’t pull his gaze away: there’s something about the glow of his cheeks, the shade of his eyeshadow, more compelling than usual.
Jimin likes the rubbery phone cases. Not necessarily just the ones made out of silicone, but any kind that have good traction on skin. They’re easier to grip, harder to drop when he’s only using one hand. Taehyung doesn’t remember how he knows this, and doesn’t bother chasing the thought as it makes itself scarce. Jimin attempts to jab a text message response with his left hand only before giving up and undoing his arm from Tae’s neck.
[22:31] congratulations on the win
[22:34] did you see the screencaps? ㅋㅋ they’re all over naver
[22:34] really though, you’ve worked hard
ahhh hyung [22:56]
thank you really [22:56]
It takes him time to choose what stickers to use - are the cutesy crying emoji ones too cute, too soon for Taemin-hyung? In the end he sends them anyway, all three, just like Taehyung guessed he would.
“What is it? Jimin says, looking at him directly by turning his head. He shifts in Taehyung’s lap, hands on his own thighs, the exhale of the movement fanning Tae’s neck.
Possessive is the cord coiling in Taehyung’s gut. He remembers a day when no one else came close to him on Jimin’s recent contact list. “Old friend,” Taehyung says, “you better not leave me ever, even when we’re dialect-old.”
Jimin takes this well, only momentarily perplexed before he rolls his eyes. “Even when we’re ancient, and you’re still a moody piece of shit?”
It’s not really a question.
Taehyung barely shakes his head. “Thank you,” sits heavy on his tongue, only a puff and a consonant seeing air. Jimin looks at him with a hard gaze for a long moment.
“Relax,” he finally says with a shake of his head, tugging Tae’s earrings, two small silver hoops. “Barely two days of no sleep, and you turn into the worst kind of brat.”
“I’m not a brat,” Taehyung protests. “I just miss you.” His body spits it out with a flinch, like these needy words are painful.
Annoyed is not the word. It’s more enduring than that, Jimin’s expression, but it’s too complicated for Taehyung to be sure
“That’s not fair. I haven’t gone anywhere,” he says, and it’s not soft. “But people have to change in order to grow, you know. So have you.”
Taehyung doesn’t know how. “It’s different,” he says, looking away. “I miss -”
“I’m here, though. You just want it all.” Jimin says. “It’s impossible, you already know. You can’t keep things a certain way forever.”
It sounds so terribly sad, put that way. The kind of palpable sorrow Taehyung can feel in his hands. He shakes his head. He wants to refuse it.
“I’m happier, I’m doing better than before. Why are you being like this? Nobody’s abandoning you.”
“You don’t get it.”
Jimin’s fingers find his shoulder, dig in deep and sharp. “More than you know, actually. More than you, so cut it out. Are you really that - do you really not know? You’re being selfish.”
“I just don’t want you to leave me.”
Jimin’s brows have formed a knit when Taehyung looks up. Delicate and frustrated. He looks angry. “You can be really terrible, sometimes,” he says. “But I love you.”
Taehyung hugs him hard. As hard as he’s able, arms almost numb with exhaustion. It feels like if he doesn’t, he’ll really lose something. Like if he doesn’t clutch tighter, it’ll slip out of his fingers, more valuable than he can even fathom.
Silence goes on, only a faint and far-off sound of someone snoring. Taehyung’s eyes involuntarily close when Jimin’s lips press somewhere high on his cheek. Maybe it’s because he’s breathed enough hairspray to permanently fuck up the decision-making part of his cortex, but everything still feels like it’s out of a foggy, distant reality when Taehyung finds Jimin’s mouth with his own.
This dream; even more absurd when he can’t tell if Jimin is kissing him back.
The make-up noona’s work smears, even when they’re grossly gentle. And it doesn’t last long. Jimin pinches the corners of his mouth together when he stands up. “Take a turn on the sleeping mat,” he says, slapping Taehyung’s thigh. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go down to the parking lot.”
Something like a taut thread meets the smooth blade of a scissor, and now resembles relief. They’re fine. Taehyung can lay easy like this now without obsessing over something terrifying, like existence or resolution. Absence of consequence and temptation to do something drastic for no reason is gone.
It’s the kind of dream he’ll be unable to make sense of, and soon forget, even with the smudge of another lip gloss on his chin when he wakes up.