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Seokjin was going to throw his computer out the window.
He didn’t care that it was a very expensive, custom gaming computer that took him months to get delivered. He’s petty and rich enough to acquire a new one if needed but this piece of utter crap in front of him was infuriating him on a scale previously unknown to mankind.
He had been stuck on this stupid level for two weeks straight and at this point, the only option he had was to burn it all to the ground and start anew.
And no, he couldn’t just quit the game. Who would even suggest such a terrible, cowardly, horrendous solution.
Yoongi, his stupid roommate, that’s who.
So what if he had to listen to Seokjin whine for a few days straight about this game and this stupid level and the evil, evil people that created it? What right did that give him to suggest an idiotic thing like quitting the game?
Grumbling under his breath about ungrateful dongsaengs and vile game designers, he throws himself into his gaming chair and logs into his computer. He was tired of this shit, he was either winning the level or winning the battle with the sticky window so he could throw the bane of his existence out of it today.
Oh.
What greets him isn’t the nightmare of a level that’s haunted him for the last fortnight.
Instead, it’s the pop-up that’s congratulating him on getting through the level.
Unless he had suddenly developed sleep-gaming abilities far superior to his conscious self, this just should not have been possible.
But Seokjin’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he cheers loudly and turns to Yoongi, who’s sitting on his bed jotting something down in his notebook, and says, “Hah! Take THAT you quitter.”
Yoongi looks up, the deadpan expression never fading from his face as he says, “Congratulations. Should I inform Billboard of this achievement?”
“Stop being such a hater, Yoongi-ssi,” Seokjin laughs, and turns around to defeat the rest of this game.
Nothing could stop him now.
-----
Namjoon would like to go back to his fifteen year old self and smack him over the head for making choices that brought him to this moment now. Staring at the piece of paper, the same piece of paper he had been staring at for what feels like months.
This was the final verse of the final song for the album before they could start recording and getting into the final stages of production and he has been holding it hostage, no, it has been holding him hostage for as long as they’ve worked on the album.
He didn’t know why he was struggling. The rest of the song had come together quickly, and Yoongi and Hoseok had handed their parts to him in what felt like a day, but his own part of the rap felt like the ramblings of a madman every time he tried to jot something down, and not even in an pretentious, artistic way.
Throwing his pen in frustration, he stormed out of the room. Maybe a walk will clear his mind. Maybe 1001st time was the charm.
That break had lasted an entire night and part of the day. Every single molecule in his body had protested returning to the source of his frustration and he had given in and gone home to watch a movie with Jimin instead of subjecting himself to that.
He was nothing if not the president of procrastination.
Sighing as he keyed in the code to enter his studio, he dragged his still reluctant self back in.
Something niggled at the back of his mind, but he chalked it up to his reluctance to return to the task at hand and flipped over to the cursed page only to be stopped in his tracks.
It was complete.
The accursed section of the song was complete. And it fit.
He suddenly remembered what had set him on edge when he entered the studio, the pen he had thrown had been returned to the table and the notebook itself had been closed.
Someone had been in here, and that someone had managed to fix something he hadn’t been able to for months.
The writing looked vaguely familiar, like it was one he should have recognized. There was no note attached, nothing to inform him who his benefactor was.
He needed to figure out who it was so they could be credited but he needed to get the finished song sent out first so he wasn’t delaying the production more than he already had.
He’d get to the bottom of this later.
-----
Jimin was heartbroken.
30 seconds.
That’s how much he’d missed out by, if Naver was to be believed.
He had so badly wanted to go to Taeyang’s tour, and when the dates fell smack dab in the middle of their own concerts, it felt like a sign from the universe that it was meant to be.
Now, he could’ve requested tickets through the company but his dumbass self had wanted to be a true fan, and wanted to ticket for it himself. He didn’t know what possessed him to think he was capable of this feat when it took him 15 minutes to book movie tickets.
But he had researched, he had prepared, he had done everything he could to set himself up for success.
And failed.
He trudges to his room, ready to plant his face in his pillow and pass out so he can forget how cruel the world was.
Throwing himself on his bed without even turning his lights on, he rolls around, trying to get comfortable only to hear a suspicious crinkling.
If Jungkook left open snacks in his bed again, he would kill him.
Jumping out, he turns the lights on and finds a pair of...are those tickets?
Scrambling to get a hold of them, he scans them quickly before screaming in joy.
“What the fuck,” he hears a grumble before the door is thrown open by Yoongi. “You good?”
“Good!? I’m GREAT! Hyung, do you even know...oh my god. Who did this?”
Convinced that Jimin wasn’t in danger of dying, Yoongi leaves Jimin to his squealing.
-----
Hoseok sometimes felt like the mother of six unruly toddlers.
It’s not so much that the members were inconsiderate. It’s the fact that none of them instinctively cared to be organized, not like him. And he was loath to push his own standards on them.
He yelled at them plenty when they didn’t do the basics, don’t get him wrong. But there was completing their chores, and then there was completing them to his satisfaction.
However, just because he liked things a certain way didn’t mean he enjoyed spending time getting it done.
Especially laundry. Hoseok thinks if he never did a load of laundry ever again in his life, he would still have done more of it than an average human being.
Seven boys, seven active boys with constant practice, seven piles of clothes.
They take turns doing the laundry, but none of the other six delinquents think it’s necessary to fold the damn laundry, happy to pull clothes directly from the dryer to wear. And despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to rid them of this horrendous habit.
So it falls to him to fold it, lest they live like uncultured swines.
He drags himself to the laundry room when he gets home, not even stopping to sit down or say hi to the members. They’re the enemies. Members. And sitting down.
If he gets distracted or lazy he’d wake up irritated about the wrinkles in the clothes and that’s just no way to live his life.
What greets him, however, isn’t a pile of tangled, warm clothes begging to be treated with respect. No.
What greets him is perfectly folded laundry with crisp corners and even folds. It’s so perfect, it almost brings a tear to his eyes.
His delight is immediately followed by dread, however.
Who could’ve done this?
-----
Taehyung was having a horrible day.
He had gotten yelled at by his vocal trainer, messed up in dance practice, and to top it all off, he had fought with a friend about something inconsequential because he had been irritated about unrelated things.
The members told him it was just a fluke, that he was amazing and a momentary slump did not mean he was washed out. But they are his members, they love him and are biased.
Taehyung feels like he’s failing them and the weight of that almost brings him to his knees.
He treks to his room morosely, hoping a good night’s sleep will fix whatever is wrong with him.
What greets him is a small post-it note on the door.
Taehyung-ah,
Don’t let a few bad moments bring you down. You’re one of the hardest working people I know. Just keep your head down and work through the slump and you’ll be back to your best in no time. I love you. Fighting.
Taehyung only realizes he’s crying when the ink on the note starts blurring due to his tears. Wiping his eyes, he tucks the note under his pillows and goes to sleep.
Tomorrow is a new day, and as his friend, whoever it might be, said, he’ll be back to his best self by then.
-----
Jungkook sighed and closed the window.
He knows it’s stupid, he knows he’s rich enough to afford it. He knows the amount of time he spent struggling over his decision is probably worth more monetarily than the stupid pair of speakers he keeps waffling over.
But he just can’t make himself click confirm.
Sighing, he picks up his backpack to go back to company. He can work with his equipment there, until he makes up his damn mind and sets up his home studio.
Just as he’s about to leave, the doorbell rings. When he looks through the peephole, instead of finding his manager or one of the other staff as he expects, he sees a package instead.
He knows he shouldn’t just open it, especially when he wasn’t expecting anything, but curiosity gets the better of him and he grabs it and rips it open.
What the fuck?
The box contains the pair of speakers he was just mooning over, almost as if he had manifested them into his hands through sheer force of wishful thinking.
He runs back to his computer to check if he had accidentally ordered them at some point, despite thinking he had chickened out at the last second. But he doesn’t see any orders on his account or charges on his card.
Huh.
-----
Emergency meeting. House. 30.
In all the years they’ve known each other, Yoongi could count on one hand when one of them had to send an SOS text. It’s rare enough that he rushes out of his studio, where he had been cooped up for the past...eight hours, he calculates, looking down at his phone that was down to 12% charge. It was lucky he even managed to see the message, what with how focused he had been on the new track. He hopes that the auto-save mechanism does its job because he hadn’t even bothered to check if everything was saved correctly.
It takes him exactly fifteen minutes to speed walk back to the house, considering and then discarding the hassle of asking for a vehicle to be arranged.
So he’s a little out of breath when he steps through the door, somehow the last one in despite having ditched everything to get there as soon as he got the text.
“Yoongi hyung,” Taehyung exclaims, rushing over to hug him, his voice peaking enough that it sets Yoongi’s nerves on edge. Enough that he doesn’t even shrug him off when Tae continues to cling on to him as he guides him to the sofa.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, the implication of who do I hurt heavy in his voice even though the rest of them know that he’s all bluster and no bite.
His question is answered with a question. “Has anything strange happened to you recently?” Jimin asks, frowning in a way that indicates that the answer should be yes.
“Strange?”
“Strangely good,” Jungkook insists, despite the irritated look Jimin shoots at him. Yoongi guesses he walked into the middle of an argument he isn’t aware of.
“Not that I recall,” Yoongi says, preemptively heading off whatever argument was about to start up again.
“Maybe he just didn’t notice,” Hoseok sighs, “I mean, if it hadn’t been for Jin hyung and I talking, I wouldn’t even have thought twice about it.”
“I think we have a sasaeng,” Jimin declares, his body coiled tight in anticipation. Because he’s the exact opposite of Yoongi, he’d fight first and ask questions later.
“But can they be called a sasaeng if they’re being so nice to us?” Tae questions, earning the spot of the other person on Jimin’s shitlist for the moment.
“Nice or not, it sounds like they’ve been in places they have no business being in,” Namjoon pipes up, and despite how bratty the maknae line tends to be, they usually fall in line when the leader’s voice chimes in, so they all settle, giving Yoongi the opening he had been looking for.
“Can someone catch me up?”
“Hyung, really think about it,” Hoseok says instead, frustrating Yoongi to no end. “Has nothing weirdly nice happened to you recently? Someone leaving a coffee for you out of the blue? Maybe someone arranged all your files into a system that makes sense instead of the goddamn disaster of a naming scheme you insist is org....”
“Seok-ah,” Namjoon interrupts Hoseok’s rant. “Not now.”
“No...nothing like that,” Yoongi replies, rolling his eyes at Hoseok’s frustration about his extremely normal, perfectly organized file system. “Besides, if someone did that, they would definitely be a sasaeng because I’d never fucking find anything again.”
“What if it’s a Yoongi-hyung anti?” Taehyung asks, his eyes wide in concern. “I mean, if someone did something good for all of us except him, think about it...”
“What the fuck is everyone on about?” Yoongi says, finally losing his patience. Because if there is one thing that will get him mad, it’s the safety of any of his members being at risk.
So they tell him, one by one, about the mysterious benefactor, the strange occurrences, the surprises.
And Yoongi’s ears get redder and redder the longer they go on because what the fuck.
“Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook asks, noticing Yoongi’s head was in danger of disappearing into his coat if he ducked it any more. “Are you okay?”
It takes a second for Yoongi to answer but he finally manages to squeak out something unintelligible.
“Yoongi-yah, what did you say? We can’t hear you,” Seokjin says, throwing an arm around him and pulling him into a semi-hug.
“You don’t have to worry about a saesang,” Yoongi murmurs, and the protests start before he even completes his sentence.
“Hyung, just because they’re nice to us doesn’t mean it’s not a concern. Especially if what Tae said is true, which doesn’t seem that far-fetched for once...”
“Hey!”
“...And you might not care about your own safety, but we do!” Jimin rants, clutching at Yoongi’s hand in comfort.
“I’m not in danger, can we please let this go?” Yoongi pleads, but to no avail.
“Jimin’s right, hyung, we can’t just ignore a threa...” Namjoon starts, his voice heavy with the weight of his concern.
“Oh my god! It was me! Happy? There’s no sasaeng because it was me. I did all those things.”
“What?” Hoseok screams, half-surprised, half-delighted.
“I didn’t realize the mystery of it would be so terrifying,” Yoongi says, finally meeting the member’s eyes, even if his face feels like it’s on fire.
Everyone’s silent for a few seconds, processing the shift from being horrified to amused.
“Hyung!” Tae exclaims and throws himself on Yoongi, knocking the breath out of him in the process. “That’s adorable. You’re adorable!”
The rest of them laugh as Yoongi breaks into a string of curses, trying to untangle himself.
Fuck him if he ever tries to do anything nice for these idiots ever again.
-fin-