Chapter Text
The Yeoncheon air in June was sticky, thick with a heat that seemed to cling to the skin like an unwanted memory. Outside the gates of the 5th Infantry Division, a chaotic sea of lenses, tripods, and flashing cameras rippled impatiently behind the barricades. The media had turned out in full force, desperate to capture the first glimpse of BTS’s eldest member returning to civilian life.
But behind the guarded compound gates, the atmosphere was entirely different. Seokjin stood among his military unit, surrounded by the boys he had spent the last year and a half leading, cooking for, and training alongside. The tough exterior he had maintained cracked as his juniors, young men who had grown to depend on him as a brother, began to openly sob.
"Hey, I told you guys not to cry," Seokjin scolded gently, though his own throat tightened painfully. "If you start weeping, I'm going to look like a mess out there."
It was no use. A junior soldier bowed his head, shoulder shaking as tears hit the dirt. Seeing them crumble, Seokjin felt the heavy tears spill over his own cheeks. He wiped at his eyes, accepting a massive, beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers and a custom rolling-paper poster his unit had secretly made for him. They had spent over a year calling him Sergeant Kim Seokjin, but in their hearts, he was just their reliable, warm-hearted older brother. With one last stiff salute and a round of heartfelt applause from his comrades, Seokjin turned toward the iron gates that led back to the world he had left behind.
The moment the gates slid open, the roar of the crowd and the blinding flashes of the press hit him. Seokjin stepped out, tall and proper in his spotless military uniform and black beret. He lifted his hand, offering a crisp, disciplined salute to the media, followed by a familiar, bright wave.
Then, the world seemed to shift into focus.
Waiting just a few meters away stood his universe. Because they were still actively serving, the remaining members hadn't been able to prepare grand civilian outfits, but they had managed to get official leave to be there. And right in the center, standing with a massive grin and a gleaming brass saxophone raised to his lips, was Namjoon.
As Seokjin walked forward, Namjoon blew into the instrument, playing a slightly chaotic, utterly endearing rendition of Dynamite. The sheer absurdity and deep affection of the gesture broke through the media's tense atmosphere. Seokjin laughed, a sound that carried all the relief he hadn't known he was holding.
Before Seokjin could even process the music, a blur of denim and bright yellow intercepted him. Hoseok, wearing a bean hat and a face mask that couldn't hide his radiant eyes, practically threw himself into Seokjin's arms. The embrace was fierce, an explosive release of months of separation.
"Hyung! You did so well!" Hoseok choked out, squeezing him tightly.
"Ah, Seokjin-ah!" Yoongi stepped forward next, pulling him into a firm, grounding hug that grounded the eldest instantly. Taehyung followed, his large frame enveloping Seokjin in a quiet, deeply emotional embrace, whispering sweet congratulations against his shoulder.
Then came the youngest two, who had arrived together from their shared military unit. Jimin, eyes crinkling into beautiful crescents, stepped in for a warm hug, his hand lingering on Seokjin’s arm. But it was Jungkook who clung the longest. When Jungkook wrapped his arms around Seokjin, it felt less like a greeting and more like a lifeline. The youngest pressed his face into Seokjin's shoulder, his fingers bunching into the fabric of the military jacket, trembling slightly. Seokjin rubbed Jungkook’s back, sensing the overwhelming wave of emotion crashing through the maknae.
Namjoon finally lowered the saxophone, handing it off to a staff member so he could step into the space. When Seokjin reached out, Namjoon pulled him into a deep, crushing hug. The contrast between them—Namjoon in his casual blue shirt and sunglasses, Seokjin in full uniform—faded against the sheer gravity of their shared history.
"Welcome back, hyung," Namjoon murmured, his voice thick.
The media captured every second: the seven of them, fractured by duty but entirely unbroken in spirit, clustered together on the asphalt. They couldn't stay long under the scrutinizing eyes of the press. Staff quickly ushered them toward a row of four sleek, black minivans parked by the curb.
With waves to the cameras, they climbed in. The plan was immediate: they were heading straight to HYBE for a quick transition, and then straight to Jimin’s spacious, private apartment where they could finally drop the masks and talk away from the public eye.
Inside the temporary green room at the company headquarters, the chaos had temporarily subsided, replaced by the humming energy of an upcoming Weverse Live. Seokjin sat in front of a phone setup, a massive celebratory banner behind him, surrounded by champagne bottles, balloons, and the very bouquet he had received at the base.
The screen flickered to life.
"Um... is it working? I'm not sure if it's turned on yet, but I'll greet you first," Seokjin started, leaning in close to the camera. He adjusted the frame, his movements a bit clumsy after eighteen months away from the digital world. "Ah, it's on. It's on!"
He sat back, straightening his shoulders, a nervous but radiant smile gracing his face. "Hello everyone, it's been a really long time. Dul, set: Bangtan! Hello, we are BTS—well, I am Jin of BTS! Everyone, I have returned after one year and six months!"
He clapped his hands, looking slightly overwhelmed by the lens staring back at him. "Being in front of the camera after so long, I don't really know what to say, but I'll try my best to talk about everything. Ah, the screen keeps rotating... back in my day, I used to be so good at handling this."
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "To be honest, I'm usually much handsomer than this, but I cried earlier during my discharge ceremony. My eyes are quite swollen. I used to have a lot of confidence in my face, but today it's a bit lacking. The members came to celebrate with me earlier, which surprised me so much. And when I walked into the company building, all the staff were lining the halls, cheering with this huge placard, champagne, balloons, and flowers. It made me so happy, I actually ended up crying for a second time today."
Seokjin held up the rolling-paper poster his unit had made, proudly displaying the dense columns of handwritten text. "Look at this. I was an absolute popular guy in the military. I can say it with my own mouth because it's true! I managed to build a great relationship between the officers and the soldiers. My juniors made me promise not to cry, but then they started bawling like the world was ending, so how could I hold it back? I even received multiple awards from the division commander. I really did well."
He glanced through a few of the messages, laughing softly at a junior asking him to introduce him to girl groups, before shifting the topic to the upcoming FESTA event. He explained the long, humorous battle he had fought with the company to allow a 1,000-person hug event.
"I argued with them for months. The company only wanted fifty people because they were worried I'd get hurt or exhausted right after discharge, but I insisted on thousands. I wanted to hold the people who waited for me so patiently for eighteen months," he said softly, his voice grounding. "Please know it all comes from a good place. And don't pressure the other members to do it when they get out—I only did it because I personally wanted to."
He paused, looking toward the door where a staff member gestured to the time. They needed to move before traffic got worse and suspicion grew about where the members were gathering.
"Ah, I also rode over here in the same car as Jimin," Seokjin added with a small smile. "Jimin told me on the way that he completely forgot how to sing, and honestly, I feel the same. It's been a year and a half since I properly threw my voice out there, so my performance tomorrow might be a bit rusty. But I will do my absolute best. Tomorrow, at FESTA, I'll express everything I feel to you all."
Leaning close to the screen, he gave a classic blowing kiss. "To the soldiers still serving, hang in there. To the members, you are doing so well. And to our ARMY, who waited for so long, I love you the most. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye! Jimin-ah, let's go!"
The live cut off, leaving the room in a sudden, heavy quiet. Seokjin exhaled a long breath, the adrenaline slowly draining from his system. He quickly changed out of his stiff military uniform into a loose, comfortable hoodie and sweatpants, abandoning the beret on the vanity table.
Down in the basement parking lot, the group split up into two unassuming cars to avoid drawing a caravan of paparazzi.
Jungkook immediately claimed the seat next to Namjoon in the lead vehicle, his movements hurried, almost desperate. Yoongi took the driver's seat, with Hoseok riding shotgun, leaving the three of them in the back of the spacious SUV.
As the car pulled out of the underground garage and merged into the glittering, neon-lit Seoul traffic, the atmosphere changed completely. The high of the media circus and the official broadcast evaporated, leaving behind the raw, unspoken reality of what they were all facing. They were together, but the ticking clock of the remaining enlistments hung over them like a heavy fog.
Jungkook sat rigidly in the dark interior, his eyes fixed on the window as the streetlights blurred past. He hadn't spoken a word since they left the green room. His chest felt tight, the rhythm of his breathing shallow and uneven. Next to him, Namjoon rested his head against the headrest, looking exhausted but deeply relieved, his eyes closed.
Jungkook looked at Namjoon’s silhouette in the dim light of the passing city. The sight of his leader, so close yet still carrying the invisible weight of their scattered group, sent a sudden, sharp pang of anxiety straight through Jungkook's chest. He reached out in the dark, his hand trembling slightly as his fingers tightly gripped the sleeve of Namjoon's jacket.
Namjoon opened his eyes, turning his head to look at the youngest, sensing the silent storm brewing beside him. He didn't say anything yet, simply turning his hand over to catch Jungkook's fingers, squeezing them tightly as the car quietly navigated the highway toward Jimin's apartment.