Chapter Text
"Everything's better when we're all together."
Seokjin had said that, before.
Before he told them all about the timeloops, about the dreams.
Before the fire at Namjoon's place.
Before the trial of Seokjin's father.
Before the offer.
Before all that… and everything that came after.
"Everything's better when we're all together."
For as much as the simple phrase floated around his mind, Jungkook wasn't sure if he believed it.
The offer had come after the fire, but no one actually started trickling into Seokjin's makeshift little group home until after the first days of the trial.
Having nowhere else to go, Namjoon was first. Or so Jungkook had heard from Yoongi.
Yoongi: He brought that boy with him. Not sure if I'm up for living with a child running around the place. But I guess both of them have nowhere else to go.
Taehyung had been next. He and Seokjin had been the source of most of the group fights lately, so Jungkook couldn't shake his surprise when Yoongi had texted with that update as well.
Hoseok followed, Jimin riding hesitantly on his heels.
"It's good," Jimin had admitted over a brief phone call. "I didn't think it would be, after everything, but I think Jin-hyung's right. It's better when we're together. You should stop by, or maybe even, well, you know..."
Jungkook stopped by, but he didn't fill the gap in Jimin's hanging sentence. The invitation hung over his head the whole way home, haunting him along with the smiles on all their faces.
Once upon a time, Jungkook would have staked his life on the group. Without them, what else was out there? Once upon a time, the answer to that would have been nothing.
But that was before...
Before the accident.
Before blinding headlights and screeching horns.
Before hospitals and recoveries...
And that nasty, telling dent on the front of Seokjin's truck.
Not fair.
It wasn't fair that his insides twisted against them all like that. Where once the group had been everything—had been family—now, just reading a text from Yoongi made him bristle.
And catching even a glimpse of Seokjin made him want to throw his fist through a wall.
Yoongi, who had done nothing to him, not really.
Seokjin, who had done everything.
Somewhere along the line, the others all just got lumped into those feelings. Being excluded from the Map of the Soul group chat hadn’t helped. He had wasted away in the hospital while the rest of the boys searched for some weird thing that would somehow help the timeloop or Seokjin’s memories… or whatever. Everything was fine now, sure, but still. It would’ve been nice to be included.
Jimin hadn’t named names when Jungkook asked after all was said and done, but he’d hinted at Yoongi being the one to keep the chat at six instead of seven.
“We just wanted you to focus on getting better, you know? You didn’t need to be bombarded with all those weird texts about the map and everything…”
Well. Maybe he’d wanted to be bombarded. All alone in the hospital… and Yoongi hadn’t even come to visit once.
So, maybe Yoongi had done a thing or two to him after all.
Doesn’t matter. They were all guilty in one way or another.
The more he put them all at arm's length, the more the feelings—the anger—seemed to fester. It wasn't supposed to work that way, Jungkook mused, fumbling for his phone at the sound of a quick yet nagging buzz. Putting space between himself and the group was supposed to make him feel better. At the very least, he had been counting on the distance working as a sort of numbing agent.
He hadn't counted on anger, hadn't counted on rage.
As bleary eyes focused in on the phone screen, a text from Jimin cut through the darkness.
A single photo. The group lounging in the very nice, yet modest living room, with Jimin's smiling face framing the corner of the selfie.
And a simple message.
Jimin: We're not seven without you.
Squinting against the brightness, Jungkook saw them all. He even managed to make out Yoongi in the background, leaning against Namjoon with that familiar, half-lidded gaze.
The flare of irritation that seared his skin also tainted what was most likely meant to be a cordial conversation—one of the many, endless olive branches from Jimin.
Jungkook: wut are u talking about. I see 7 in this pic
Jimin didn't respond right away. Probably giving the photo a closer look and spotting what had taken Jungkook less than five seconds to see.
Namjoon's pseudo baby brother, or whatever the kid was to him, sitting in the corner with Hoseok, curled up in the kind of deep sleep Jungkook could only day dream about.
Jimin: that only makes six and a quarter.
Jimin: 6 and a 1/2 at most.
He blinked.
If Jimin had said that to his face—if he had been there in person, sitting beside Jungkook on the bed—Jungkook might have chuckled. He might even have laughed.
But the words seemed as lifeless as he felt, resting there on the screen like that. Without Jimin there to utter the words aloud, Jungkook was free to interpret them however he wished. He could read them over and over in his head. Sometimes, he gave them a bitter edge or a careless lilt, but that night, an unhealthy dose of sarcasm and judgment fit the best.
Jimin: Just missing you, thats all.
Jungkook made sure to leave that last one on read. Let Jimin wait. Let him stare at the screen, hoping for the response that would never come.
Let him wait, hope, and believe, like Jungkook once had. Believe in the strength and goodness of the group.
If seeing was believing, Jungkook mused as he turned back over in his bed, then he'd seen more than enough.
He'd seen Jin lie to all their faces about the timeloop. Never mind that he told them all in the end, around the fire that strange night at Namjoon’s container home. Never mind that. Seokjin could've said something sooner. Jungkook could've helped, if he'd known.
He'd watched Seokjin deny the car accident with a straight face, even going so far as to look hurt by Jungkook's accusations.
The rest of the group had backed Jin up. Even Taehyung, who'd had more than his own fair share of spats with the older boy. If anyone should've taken his side, Jungkook thought, it should've been Tae.
It doesn't matter now.
He didn't need them, not right now. Not until he figured himself out. Himself, his feelings, and everything else.
Because maybe things were better when they were all together, but Jungkook was having a hard time believing in that truth.
Since the group first drifted apart all that time ago... Jungkook had been having a hard time believing in anything.
His phone buzzed again, but this time, he shut his eyes against the faint glow of the screen and folded the pillow over his head.
"Everything's better when we're all together..."
When the darkness slipped over him, those six little words followed him into his dreams.
It seemed fitting that there were only six words instead of seven.
"Still nothing?"
Jimin tried shaking off Hoseok's concern with a light shrug. Morning had dawned with no new messages from Jungkook. "He's probably just sleeping."
From the kitchen table, he heard Yoongi scoff. "Or he's just avoiding us."
When Jimin shot him a look, the older boy rolled his eyes, a dreary sort of resignation reflecting on his face.
"He's been doing that for weeks now, don't act so surprised."
Not surprised, Jimin realized when he noticed a flicker of the same sort of expression on Taehyung's face. Just disappointed.
Beside him, Hoseok raised a brow. "Do you think I should text him?"
Though Jimin opened his mouth, Tae was the one who replied through a mouthful of toast. "It can't hurt, right? Maybe if we bombard him with texts and calls, he'll show up in person just to tell us to knock it off."
"Great plan," Yoongi said, "until he blocks you."
Hoseok let a burst of mock surprise animate his features, and what would've normally made Jimin laugh under different circumstances now only made him long for the days when they could all laugh together. All seven of them.
"Block us? He wouldn't dare."
"He thinks Seokjin hit him with a truck and lied about it," Yoongi deadpanned. "I'm surprised he hasn't cut us off completely. Though," he added under his breath, just loud and bitter enough for the rest of the room to hear, "why the wound between them has to bleed onto the rest of us is beyond me."
"Still," Jimin said, hating the twinge of despair in his tone, "he wouldn’t really block us... right?"
Yoongi made a wanna bet? arch with his brows, but he didn't say anything more on the subject.
That was fine. The longer they talked about it, the stronger the urge grew to shove his hand through the screen and pull Jungkook out of the other end by his ears.
Jimin pursed his lips, tucking his phone back in his pocket.
It was strange, living here with everyone like this. Strange in a good way, he decided, but strange nonetheless. It wasn't as if he had nowhere else to go, it was just... better here. He didn't need Seokjin's charity; he didn't need a place to lay his head every night like Namjoon did.
But when Jin had used some of his family’s wealth to rent out a decent-sized house tucked into the folds of the inner city, Jimin had realized that he did need them.
The group. His friends.
His brothers.
And maybe it had taken him longer than some of the others to accept the offer—certain demons still insisted upon hanging around, despite any attempts at healing—but he was here now. Wasn't that what mattered in the end?
Yoongi shouldered his bag after grabbing a cup of coffee, heading for the door just as a sleepy Seokjin walked in.
"I'll be back later," he promised as the familiar expression clouded Jin's face.
Though Jin relaxed slightly at this, Jimin knew that expression would keep weaving in and out of their lives until Yoongi picked a side and committed.
What had started as Yoongi bunking on the couch a handful of nights ago had turned into an on-again, off-again arrangement that kept the hyung’s true living quarters up in the air.
Jimin couldn't blame him. Not when he knew more than his own fair share about not committing. About running away...
With a nod, Seokjin watched Yoongi slip out the door before turning his attention to the rest of the kitchen.
"Give it time," came Hoseok's sage advice, ever the optimist.
"Do you think Yoongi would stay if I bought a piano?" Seokjin's question, Jimin supposed, was meant to be comical, to sprinkle some levity into the air. The desired effect was lost on the group as Taehyung dipped his head, going back to his breakfast.
"You can't buy his commitment." In the same way that Jimin hadn't heard Namjoon come home last night, he hadn't noticed his hyung slip into the room. "But hey, anything's worth a shot."
Sometimes, Namjoon gave Jimin whiplash, the way he switched so effortlessly between optimism and pessimism.
Woochang was hot on his heels, as always.
Personally, Jimin thought the boy was adorable. Sometimes, he would catch Woochang peeking through the door to watch his dance practices. Whenever Jimin tried to coax the boy in, however, whenever he encouraged him to join the dance, Woochang stiffened and disappeared.
Besides being Namjoon's constant shadow, so far, Woochang had only really warmed up to Hoseok, which wasn't very hard. Taehyung seemed to be the next potential target, and every day, Jimin had to shove down his envy at that.
Maybe the child sensed the things about him that Jimin wouldn’t even admit to himself.
That he was too fragile. That maybe he should still be in the hospital, where he’d be safe. Secure. Lonely and drifting…
He shot off another text to Jungkook, if only to keep his own thoughts from spiraling.
"Any luck with Kookie yet?" Namjoon looked like he knew the answer to the question before he'd asked it.
Jimin responded anyway, a quick shake of the head.
A shrug was all he got from Namjoon after that. They all tried to pretend it didn't hurt, Jungkook's rejection of the group. In their own little ways, they feigned indifference or hope—some more than others, in the case of Yoongi and Namjoon.
"We need groceries," Seokjin said, changing the topic as Namjoon opened the fridge. "Rock, Paper, Scissors, the loser goes shopping tonight."
Taehyung leaned forward first, thrusting his arms out as if his life depended on it. In hindsight, maybe it did. Maybe all their lives had hinged on that simple moment, that single sentence. That one game.
It was funny, Jimin found himself musing later—after—how the mundane could turn so quickly into something more. Something horrific. Something far beyond them all.
But in that moment, all Jimin knew was the smile on Taehyung's face when his scissors beat Namjoon's paper. The smirk when Seokjin trumped Hoseok. And the chagrined defeat when Namjoon found himself to be the last man standing.
"That's why you never start with paper, hyung," Tae laughed, clearly relieved to not be that evening's errand boy.
Namjoon took it all in stride.
"I have some studying to do this afternoon," he told Woochang, handing his little shadow a piece of fruit, "but after that, we'll head out, okay?"
Mouth now full of a bite that was already too big to begin with, in Jimin's humble opinion, Woochang could only nod.
And maybe that's what made him volunteer. Maybe he saw it as an opportunity to get the kid to open up to him a bit. Or maybe he was just impulsive—maybe Taehyung was rubbing off on him…
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Whatever the case, Jimin found himself offering to come along.
"Just for an extra set of hands, you know?" he explained under the weight of Namjoon's arched brow.
A shrug and half a smile later, it was settled. As Jimin turned back to his phone, he caught Namjoon sidling up to Seokjin.
"I got paid last night," was the only explanation as he shoved a folded wad of cash into Jin's palm.
Though Jin tried to protest, Namjoon had already moved on, ruffling Woochang's hair before slipping out of the kitchen.
Seokjin's sigh filtered through the room. As long and as heavy as it was all too familiar.
"I told him, he doesn't have to keep doing that..."
No one had much to say to that. Even Hoseok, who usually made some comment about letting Namjoon do whatever helped him sleep at night, chose to pick at his breakfast instead of tossing in his two cents.
And maybe it was better that way. Maybe Seokjin and Namjoon needed to work things out themselves. But his hyungs' single, thin thread of tension wasn't as concerning to Jimin as the unanswered texts on his phone.
Come on, Jungkookie...
It was dark that night. Anyone could've been driving that truck. If Seokjin said he didn't, then he didn't. Jimin had to believe that.
Even though Jin lied about the timeloop more than once?
But Jimin had understood. He'd forgiven all that; had left it in the past. The lies, he felt, had been justified by the sheer amount of blood, sweat, and tears their friend had gone through to make sure the group stayed together—and stayed alive.
If only Jungkook could believe it, too.
Jimin gripped his phone, watching his knuckles bleed white around the edges.
Come on... Come back.