soraviie

[soraviie]

average policing stan when other people have different likes and hobbies and they can't control every single aspect of someone else's life according to their own perception of the world:

I could have blurred that username but I chose not to.... I am just not that good of a person. I never promote hate here on my blog and I never ever look forward to do so but this time, I just could not.

When it comes to me, myself, I am actually quite proud. I have a job, I pay my own bills, I buy expensive stuff on occasions, I dress well, I eat well, I drink well and I tolerate absolutely no shit. I don't wanna boast but if I tell you guys my full name, and you search that in google, you will probably see me as a search result in the very first page. Yeah, I count this as an achievement.

And I love writing. My favorite authors in here have always inspired me to write and pursue it as a hobby. So I do. I write when I can manage, after work, before work, and during weekends. and Yes, I write about the people I don't know (personally) but these are also the people to make me happier than people I do know (personally). Hence, I see nothing wrong in here. They are my muse and knowing muse personally is never required while you create art (I am leaving out the painful details of how I tattooed these people I don't know right on my arm).

Spreading hate is really easy. You can say whatever you want to an adult, knowing absolutely nothing about her, asking her to get a job and a hobby while she probably has a job cooler than yours. Yes! I am 24! And YES! I write fan fictions! What are you going to do about it? Call the Karen Police? No I mean... Do you guys want minors to write smut for you? What the fuck is wrong with people like you? Armys like us should get and job and hobby? well, Armys like us can be 30 and sit at home, doing nothing, and write fanfictions if that's what makes them happy! It should be none of your fucking business. It's probably you who should get a better job and use the paycheck to get a better life.

#this gotta be the weirdest the most useless hill to die on #fucking weirdo just frothing at the mouth thinking what other people post and do with their lives

[soraviie]

━ type: jungkook x gn! reader   ━ navigation

━ about: a healthy splash of angst; reader is slightly older than Jungkook (also in denial) and he is a whole forest because there's just so much pine

━ requested by @manavi-meera (?) tumblr deleted your ask when I tried to write in it, all I saw was the gif :/

"Just think about it."

"It's Jungkook!"

"Yeah, it's Jungkook. So think about it."

"Hmm."

It's around when your foot is halfway across the threshold that Yoongi speaks again — just as somber as he'd begun the conversation. If, of course, one's ex-boyfriend turned best friend hurtling a bunch of mistruths and delusions at a completely oblivious and confused party of the other could be construed as a "conversation".

"Oh and ______________?"

You turn around, feeling some form of clammy fear sink its grimy talons around your gut the longer this stifled, awkward bout of silence drags on.

"Yeah?"

"Just...be kind. No matter what you do."

And because for some unknown reason a sudden knot appears at the base of your throat, you can't speak — without rhyme or reason it seems nigh impossible to utter a single word so you nod. Nod and leave Yoongi to sit in his studio alone and with that disconcerting glimmer in his eye. 

Jungkook liking you — one has to laugh! 

“Old man has to be checked for dementia,” you grouse to yourself, the only thing hearing your discontent being the darkness of the emptied hallway. 

The thought! The absolute gall! 

Jungkook liking you…

It’s — it's ridiculous!

But because of one nosey little fucker, the idea has been planted in your head now and like an invasive species of flora, it refuses to leave your gardens alone. 

You try to imagine, you give it an honest, good effort but even now, after all these years what you see before your eyes when thinking of Jungkook are those big, wet eyes. It doesn’t matter how many tattoos and piercings he adorns himself with, how many bikes he drives through the night in the name of the thrill, none of it matters — to you he’s just a gangly kid, always turning his face away so you don’t see the nearly constant state of panic reflected in his features. 

What Yoongi has been smoking you have no idea, frankly you certainly don’t want to try it if it causes this sort of brain damage. 

Jungkook yearning for you. 

Yearning. Just hearing that word bounce back in your skull makes you scoff. Yearning was for torrid love affairs and sentimental romance books; no one in real life yearned. Who could possibly have the time?

Grab your jacket —> go home —> forget this ever happened —> maybe share a demure chuckle or two with Yoongi five years laters, because obviously he’d be embarrassed about being this wrong about something but the plan is fucked. 

It’s fucked because big, brown eyes are staring right back at you, as you round the corner into the wardrobe and more importantly they’re holding your jacket. Well, his hands, not the eyes. Eyes couldn’t hold things. 

“Welcome back,” Jungkook outstretches the jacket towards you, his voice rumbling low in the chest. It’s usually a pleasant hum but because of Yoongi you cannot help but wonder whether it’s a pleased hum as well. “Why didn’t you tell me you're stopping by?”

Had it been just yesterday you would have punched his arm, rolled your eyes and annoyed the ever loving shit out of him, saying he’s not your boyfriend — you don’t owe him to know when and where you’re coming and going but it’s today and suddenly merely touching him feels excruciatingly awkward. 

“Must have slipped my mind,” you mutter, struggling to put the jacket on. A faint wrinkle of discontent worms its way in the space between his eyebrows. Frustration rises and he outstretches himself to help you — out of instinct, out of annoyance? — you're not quite sure, before it never crossed your mind to ponder about it. However, now that you do your legs take an automated step back and Jungkook's hands after a second of lingering contemplatively into the air, half reached out towards you drop back to his thighs — unassuming and still.

"Something wrong?" he asks, inclining his head to the side and why....

...why is it sort of cute?

Cute in a very Jungkook way but not in a usual Jungkook way because usually he was like a little brother you never wanted and...

"__________________?"

...and you're spiralling.

"Yeah?" you blink down on him and the frown on his face deepens.

"You're a bit," jerkily, he waves his fingers around. "Out of it."

"You're like a brother to me, right?"

You didn't mean for it to come out as a question but it is now and it's terrifying. It's terrifying because Yoongi was right. Jungkook's not laughing or scoffing or even acting annoyed or offended by this familiarity. Rather there's this ashen film covering his face and the longer his gaze flits anxiously from one spot to another — anywhere but your own persona — the more you understand.

He'd thrust his heart into your awkward hands and now you're simply horrified to even hold it with more pressure — what if it breaks, what if you hurt it in anyway? It feels more like an injured bird than a heart — any wrong move and you would do something that would weigh down on you for the rest of the remaining days.

It's your turn to call out his name and echoing the same confused, absent-minded state you're in, he hums at the mention of his name, eyes hazy and teeth gnawing on his lip.

"I mean I always thought we're...friends, you know?"

"You're still—"

"I'm not little anymore."

For a second he gains a new sort of resolution - the hazy veil in his eyes is traded for something more steel like and his spine straightens just for a second befoer he collapses into himself, muttering with no small amount of bitterness:

"I'm not a kid, ___________, and you're not that much older than me."

"I know it's just," there is an ill-willing sense of a migraine coming on - you could feel it into the tepid albeit painful tension sitting at the base of your neck. "I guess it's just hard to shake off first impressions, Koo."

He gives an ugly sort of snort — a bit bitter, a bit self-depreciating — and you swear there is a "don't I know it" under his breath, grumbled in a tone that implies it's something of an inside joke with himself.

You wonder what it means.

"I'll walk you home," he suddenly utters, jumping up from the seat. Was he always such a beefcake? Your stare lingers just a touch too long and now that the proverbial scales had been ripped off your eyes you fully grasp how he preens underneath this crumb of attention.

It brings back the awkward feel in your hands — like holding something too small and too precious while walking across a tightrope.

"I didn't ask—"

"Tough shit," he throws over his shoulder, already walking away, pretending to be all cool.

"When did you get so commanding?" you grouse, rushing to keep up with him. It's a bit easier to breathe for now, here in the desolate hallway of HYBE's lower wardrobess, things have for now returned to normal and you revel in that fact though in the back of your mind you know things are soon to change. Conversations will be had and secrets will be spiilled, be it for better or worse. You know it and Jungkook knows it but for now you both pretend it's the same it used to be and bicker to your heart's delight.

"Spank me then."

"Fucking perv."

"Who do you think I learned it from?"

"From Namjoon's truly godless porn sites."

"I'm a good boy, I would never."

"Wipe that sly grin off your face and maybe I'll believe you."

send in a picture of the boys and I’ll write a scenario

[soraviie]

Assuming anyone’s sexuality is wrong.

just a little rant: but I was just scrolling to find some jungkook gifs for someone and searching up some gifs when I came across a post that said “jungkook is the gayest gay, the delulus think he’s straight.” Or something like that, and for me. That is just said, that we have all come so far that the LGBTQ+ has come so far but we just don’t respect people’s privacy especially idols, the same thing happened with the heart stopper actor.

We are not jungkook’s friends. Even if we were his friends it is not normal or okay to assume anyone’s sexuality. Sexuality is really personal thing to every individual and it takes a long time to figure out for some people and therefore it should be private and left alone until the individual speaks about it.

So just stop assuming people’s sexuality it’s fucking weird, like what do you get out of it?

I just want to make clear that it is just as weird to defend jungkook for being straight because one we don’t have to defend him it’s not wrong to be anything but straight and two that is also assuming his sexuality.

I would also like you to know not everyone who gets with the same gender or both genders or multiple genders do not always have a fucking label. So just leave it alone.

It is weird, like how would you feel if you just saw a scroll of instagram posts of strangers being like “oh yeah ___ is gay, oh no ___ is totally straight or ___ is something else.” It’s weird and wrong and violating privacy and really it’s none of your fucking business. Touch some grass and please find a hobby instead of guessing some person’s sexuality who hasn’t even spoken about it themselves to somehow appease yourself.

Before you come at me, I am a supporter of LGBTQIA+ I am not saying to that is wrong to be part of it or to experiment with sexuality I am saying it is wrong to guess and assume people’s sexuality for your entertainment. (I am talking about a certain group of people here)

I have had it done to me, it was horrible and really fricking confusing to me, of course jungkook has a bigger platform, so yeah he might not see it - okay? but it doesn’t make it okay? but I’m not just saying just jungkook. I am saying it’s wrong on a personal level to, to assume and guess sexuality of friends or family or acquaintances.

Because it’s for them to figure out and speak out to people they trust and want to know, not for the whole world to.

Just leave it alone.

This was longer than I thought it would be but it’s been on my mind for awhile since the heart stopper actor went through it and other actors as well as myself going through it.

It is my opinion, I hope I made myself clear if not you to ask I would hate for misunderstanding.

Just be respectful when it comes to this topic and people’s lives okay.

And do the basics and respect privacy <3

#agreed to a letter #thank you for saying it!!!

[soraviie]

another member is in love with you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader   ━ navigation

━ about: angst, a few hurt/comfort elements; this somehow wound up being about the bond between boys as much as the x reader part

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━  c/w: depiction of throwing up in Jimin’s part

NAMJOON | “Since when did you switch to another movie?”

Though the haze with which he’d come home with had not disappeared entirely, it did lessen. However, with this sentence being the first and only thing he’d spoken to you the entire day…well, you couldn’t help but be just a tad ornery.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” you jeer. “We do hope you enjoy your stay here.”

But something is undeniably wrong and it’s not the silence or the faraway gleam of his expression that gives it away but rather the absolute lack of reaction. His hand still monotonously brushes up against your leg that sits perched up in his lap but he’s simply not here.

“Joon,” you call out, a stern new tone lilting your voice. It stirs him enough to break whatever trance he self-imposed and lifting his head, Namjoon blearily blinks up like one would after a long nap.

“What’s with you?”

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

Sitting half-turned on the sofa with a distinct wrinkle of an oncoming frown, he awaits your answer. One you don’t know.

“Yoongi?” you parrot, all of a sudden being the confused one. “What…what does Yoongi have to do with anything?”

“Like are you two close?”

A beat of silence drags on as you stare at each other. It is frustrating being asked something you did not understand and yet even more so looking into Namjoon’s eyes and having no idea what is it that’s sitting behind them.

“Uh…not really?” at last you cautiously reply. “He texts me something funny every now and then but that’s it.”

“What kind of ‘something funny’?”

The room tumbles into another bout of silence. Slowly you tuck your legs away and though his fingers clutch repeatedly around the emptied air as if the sudden domestic absence has hurt him, the tone of his voice is just too damn imperial for you to care.

“Memes, cat videos,” unwittingly, a part of you — not so agreeable part — breaks free and arching an equally damning eyebrow, you goad him on: “Why? You want to have a look?”

He thinks of it, he genuinely weighs it over, you could see it in the way his pupils dart to the side, half-calculating, half-ashamed of the possibility. By the time that he wistfully utters: “no, there’s no need” it is too late. The tranquil peace of a quiet evening has thoroughly evaporated — what lingers in the air now is terse and partly hidden.

You may not know Yoongi but Namjoon knows Yoongi and he knows that there is something soft that quirks his lips at the mere mention of your name. That the way his gaze follows you around is just a touch too tender. Safe to say, it all goes unspoken — it is Yoongi after all — and Namjoon doesn’t know whether it’s for the better or worse. There is a certain kind of cathartic appeal to just shouting things aloud, consequences be damned, but as it stands, for now at least, everything is quiet and nothing is resolved.

Still, Yoongi doesn’t bother you — shouldn’t that be enough? He has the freedom to feel how he feels, just not the right to act upon it. And the fact is that it wasn’t Yoongi per se that was ruining his relationship right now; Namjoon was doing it quite well all by himself.

Peeking at you from the corner of the eye, he finds you sitting blue. Blue as in bathed in the blue light of the working TV although you do appear quite sad — all shrunken away into the corner, staring at the screen but not seeing anything.

You’ve had a fight.

He just started a fight.

Drawing a curt sigh, Namjoon inches himself a bit closer, acutely monitoring every last bit of you, down to the microexpressions. The slightly stretched out bottom lip, the tightly wound arms around your stomach, just the slight, almost imperceptible crease in between your eyebrows — yes, most certainly, you’ve just had a fight.

Still despite Namjoon moving ever so closer, slyly crawling back into your good graces both metaphorically and physically, you don’t make a move to deny him or cuss him out. In fact, you don’t make any move and once again he doesn’t know if that’s for the better or worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s earnest — you both know it is. You may not know that he’s saying sorry for more than just this but that too is earnest. “I don’t want us to fight.”

“Then don’t start no fights,” spitefully, you bite back but if your non-reaction was anything to go by as Namjoon places a palm on your knee, he will be forgiven.

YOONGI | Well, I should count my blessings it wasn’t Jungkook. Chiefly, that’s the first thought that pops into his head when on a random Tuesday in the most random of practice rooms, he sees the contact picture saved as Jimin’s phone lights up. Yoongi knows that picture, he took that picture. Which of course prompts the question how did Jimin get his hands on it because last time anyone checked you were Yoongi’s partner and not anyone else’s.

Sliding to unlock the call, he’s hoping like never before that it won’t about to change.

“Yes?”

“Yoongi?” instantly, you wonder. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know. Why do you—” fuck, his voice cracked. “Why do you want him? I mean, talk to him?”

“I don’t even know myself, dude,” loudly, you complain. “He called me some time ago, saying there’s something uber important to talk about and now I can’t get a hold of him anymore.”

Just then when Yoongi’s heart is about to free fall right to the bottom of his stomach, the doors to this very random practice room open and because life has a cruel and twisted sense of irony, it’s Jimin who steps through. Lately, he’s been looking haggard and it had been an unspoken agreement between the boys that his problems laid with album production but now, in one hand holding the love of his life and in the other what probably was his brother’s heart yearning for one he couldn’t have, Yoongi wonders whether it’s you whose keeping Jimin up at night with guilt. You and the smiling picture he definitely shouldn't have.

For a moment they simply stare at each other, without speaking a word. Like a clash of two worlds, the collective breath has been knocked out of the room and not even the clock pinned to the wall can cut through the sheer volume of silence.

At last, Yoongi gathers himself and stretching out the phone, he makes sure that his tone is nothing but utterly monotone.

“It’s ______________.”

Jimin grows deathly pale. His widened eyes jump from the phone in Yoongi's hands to Yoongi himself and like a deer in headlights, he keeps standing still. If his dry lips part to mutter something, no sound leaves him. The only thing he can muster is an awkward incline to indicate some kind of bow. Yoongi cards him back the phone, pretending he can’t hear your voice repeatedly questioning “hello?” on the other line and quickly steps out of the room.

It takes him three more hours than usual to get home. By that time you’re soundly asleep, clutching at the shirt Yoongi had so carelessly discarded on the bed this very morning. He quite earnestly wishes to go back to that moment, call in sick and not let either of you move out of the bed.

Despite him most definitely not wanting to, the smile creeping on his face is by now an instinctual. You could make him beam like a spring sunshine by just waking up. He loves you he knows that. He loves Jimin and Jimin as it turns out loves you. The question is of course — do you love Jimin as well?

Maybe he could…share?

“No, no,” Yoongi shakes his head, muttering to himself in the pale yellow light of the nightlamp. “What the fuck am I even thinking?”

How would that work? He gets you from Monday to Thursday only to then card you over to Jimin for the remaining week?

Glimpsing at you slumbering, half-nestled underneath the duvet, he can’t help but shudder. If you would ever learn what he just thought, it wouldn’t matter whether you love Jimin or not, because sure as hell Yoongi wouldn’t be alive to learn that fact.

Safe to say, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

As Yoongi tiredly observes you getting ready, there is an aggravating, oozing cut on his heart and every single action of yours pokes a big salted thumb right in its middle. Did you made your hair with the same level of precision when you went on a date with him? Did you dig through numerous outfits as desperately for him, trying, no, feeling the need to look good?

By the time, you’re done, he’s sitting on the bed, bleeding dry. Still, there are some things to consider — you were getting ready in his bedroom, it was his shirt you were pulling over your head and it was his initials hanging on a dainty chain down your neck.

… as it turns out, a drunken second date could lead to many things, be it a custom jewelry or a tattoo of someone’s name on their back or…left butt cheek, to be more precise.

You had a history together and he could only hope that it meant something to you.

“I’m going to meet up with—”

“Jimin after work.”

You swerve to gander at him, frowning as you do so but Yoongi doesn’t explain how he knows you will. Only wishes a succinct “don’t be out too late” and lets you out of his grasp.

It wasn’t like him to chain anyone down and you wouldn’t love him if he did. This is one of those things he just has to trust you with and maybe in time, he’ll learn to trust Jimin again.

True to your promise, when the clock strikes six you’re not at home like you usually would be. At first seven passes, then eight, then nine. Yoongi still gives you the benefit of the doubt. But when the clock starts crawling half past eleven, his knee cannot stop bouncing and his mouth cannot stop gnawing on his own nails. However, just when he no longer can stand the veritable avalanche of anxiety bucking him under, you drag yourself through the door. All complaints and accusations swiftly evaporate from the tip of his tongue as Yoongi takes in just how dead you appear. Your expression is permanently frozen in a state of hurt confusion so much so that when Yoongi slides the jacket over your shoulders, you don’t seem to notice his presence.

It’s only around one in the morning, when staring at a steaming mug of warm tea, you dare to whisper the revelation Yoongi already knows.

“Jimin said he’s in love with me.”

“I know.”

He cringes as the hurt in your eyes now finds him. Sweet heaven, how could Jimin ever do this.

“You knew?” incredulously, you question. “You knew and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“It was not my secret to tell,” firmly, he replies. “And you know that.”

“But you don’t know how he looked!” you continue, steadily working yourself up to an angered hiss. “He said he loves me and hates himself for it. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt you. You know he thinks of you like a brother.”

Dragging a tired palm over his face, Yoongi whispers that he does know that.

“Anyway, Jimin told me that he has no intention of butting in our relationship,” you conclude numbly and while Yoongi is happy to hear it, the same delight is overshadowed by worry. Was Jimin drinking? Was he somewhere unsafe in Seoul right now?

Seemingly being able to read his mind, you answer before the question is even poised.

“I made sure Jungkook picks him up and looks after him,” you sigh, pushing the mug away. It was completely full. “He wanted to apologize to you for doing this.”

“Via you?”

You sigh once more and somehow it’s even heavier.

“I don’t think that he can bear to look at you right now.”

Yoongi’s gaze darts to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, it lays there dull and lifeless up until you reach to gently wrap a hand around his palm.

“We’ll be okay,” you reassure him with a smile far too meagre to be convincing. “All of us will be okay. In time.”

It takes approximately a week for Yoongi to run into Jimin. They cross each other's paths in a hallway next to the exit doors. What sparse conversation they share is gone as soon as it starts. Yoongi takes in the exhausted, heartbroken look that seems to devour Jimin whole and all he manages to wrangle out is an understanding “I’m sorry” spoken at a distance.

Jimin gives him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, before putting back his headphones and stalking out into the rain soaked street with a downward gaze.

Yoongi hopes that it will be, as you said, all okay in due time.

SEOKJIN | Hoseok’s entry level of amusement had always been on the floor. Thus seeing him nearly double over in a peel of roaring laughter is not by any means an unusual sight. But...

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, standing next to a positively beaming Hoseok. You were funny, Hoseok liked funny.

And he also liked you.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the tiny fact that you and Jin already have matching bands around your fingers and that you are in fact undeniably, irrevocably the love of his life.

So…there’s that.

Though sitting back and simply observing feels somehow wrong, what else is he supposed to do? Going over there and punching Hoseok in the teeth is not only something he would not usually do but also, in Jin’s mind, it wasn’t even close to being productive — so what else is there?

And yes maybe it does irk him.

“Gosh, it looks like a painting,” you sigh contently, gazing over the rolling grass and clumps of disorganised mountains in the background.

“I know, a real masterpiece,” Hoseok agrees but his heart-shaped gaze is not found on said clumps of mountains or the tufts of white clouds rolling above. It's firmly planted on you and so it has been for quite some time.

Yes, it does irk him, knowing that his brother, practically flesh and blood in all the accounts that it mattered, would betray him but even so the last thing Jin wants is to tell you. There was no doubt about it — the knowledge would break your heart.

At first, you’d blame yourself, concocting in your mind that somehow this was solely just your doing and that should any fight occur it’d be you who’d spark it and then you’d cut ties with Hoseok completely. Whatever the case may be of his feelings, Hoseok was the first one who accepted you, who welcomed you into their midst as Jin’s partner with no suspicions or walls of guarded behaviour. He’d become your ride and die and frankly, very, very frankly, Jin was just as worried whether Hoseok would survive such sudden separation.

He can’t not care for his friend and as messy as it is, his friend’s wellbeing now partially hinged on his partner’s smile.

What a shit fest.

Jin is fairly certain Hoseok will not attempt anything. The sense of shame broiling within him is so apparent that more than once someone else had caught Jin by the elbow, wondering whether they have had a fight.

They haven’t, monotonously, he replies each and every time, but he doesn’t insist it’s all good either.

Regardless, the fact is he hasn’t spoken with Hoseok for…quite some time. His contact number has traversed from the usual "recently dialled" to possibly being outdated.

“Hey, you’re not sick, are you?” the sound of your worried voice at last rouses Jin from the literal plague of thoughts buzzing around. For good measure, you put your palm on his forehead, trying to gauge the temperature.

Jin wrangles it away, for a moment considering whether to kiss it. Hoseok is looking.

He chooses to hold your hand instead, his finger lingering on the promise ring.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“You’ve just been really quiet ever since we got here.”

“I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of struggles you have to go through.”

Your brow wrinkles and you gaze down on Jin whose been slowly or not so slowly sipping his whiskey by the fire pit.

“Struggles?” you echoe confused and Jin gives a sage nod.

“I’m already so beautiful every single moment but out here — in our forest get together… I can’t even imagine how you cope. I must be absolutely enthralling.”

There’s a solid minute of absolute silence before you enrupt in fond laughter.

“Don’t ever change, Jin.”

He tries to mimic your grin but it falls a touch too flat so instead his eye travels towards the onlooking Hoseok. Both hold each other’s stare before quickly turning away.

“I definitely won’t,” absent-mindedly, Jin mumbles under the nose.

HOSEOK | It just had to be Namjoon.

“Well, at least it’s not Jungkook,” Namjoon breathes a demure laugh.

If Hoseok had any heart to pummel him through the ground, he would.

“Motherfucker, really?!”

“I’m sorry.”

It truly was a curse to see someone as human. Because no matter how mad Hoseok was at Namjoon, he could not rid himself of a kid's image in this man. A kid who always was beside him. A kid with all the big dreams and all the wrong approaches to those dreams. Still, Namjoon had a kind heart and there was no one more dedicated to fixing their wrongs than him. Hoseok presumes it was this same dedication that had brought his best friend to his doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a great big apology tumbling like vomit out of his mouth.

“They just called me to help arrange your birthday present. I promise it wasn’t any more than that.”

For what seems like the hundredth time, Namjoon rushes to explain, wearing not to subtle glimmer of delirium in his eye.

“We met up for a coffee,” Hoseok’s eyebrow twitches and though he could have sworn it was impossible, Namjoon grows a touch paler from fear. “And we only discussed you and I left the second I could!”

“So my partner called up my best friend whose actually in love with them to discuss the plans for my birthday. Me, their partner who knows that his best friend is in love with said partner.”

All Namjoon can really do is apologetically rub the back of his neck all while trying (and failing) to inconscpicously inch closer towards the doors.

“It’s messed up, I know.”

“It’s more than a little messed up, Joon,” Hoseok laughs dryly, already sensing the tepid touch of an oncoming migraine. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Immediately, Namjoon shakes his head, the glasses perched on the top of his nose threatening to simply hurtle against the wall.

“We agreed to not tell them. I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

And Hoseok does hate himself for it but he’s always wondered so why not ask while the opportunity is still fresh —

“Why did you agree?” he prods with what to him appears as a cautious hand. “You could have just told how you feel—”

But Namjoon is quick to interrupt.

“I don’t want to,” he states with no small amount of firmness. It’s the sort of resolution Hoseok has seen him wield in front of the UN, in front of difficulties he could not even comprehend. Something steel-like rests behind his gaze and Hoseok knows that whatever sort of intention Namjoon has set on you, no force of nature can lead him astray.

“I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.”

“_____________ wouldn’t look at you with—”

“Yes, they would,” Namjoon interrupts him again, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “I wouldn’t be Namjoon the leader, Namjoon the trustworthy member, Namjoon, your,” he stammers; it’s almost imperceptible alas Hoseok just knows him too well. “Your brother but I’d be small Namjoon. I’d be Namjoon the naive fool who would require kid gloves in case any remark about the happiness of your relationship would break his heart. And I don’t want that.”

Ah.

“I want ________________,” they both know it’s a poor choice of wording but none of them is brave enough to remark upon it. “In a natural way, you know. I want to be their friend, I don’t want to make things any more complicated. So, yeah, I don’t want to tell them and perhaps,” he licks at his dry lips, briefly glimpsing outside. Unbeknowst to himself Hoseok mimicks the movement, forcing the barest sliver of a smile upon Namjoon’s face. “Nah, it is selfish but it is what it is.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they stand silent and it’s painfully awkward but also…it’s good. It’s almost unbelievable but things are actually peaceful between them.

“What does ____________ has planned for my birthday?”

Namjoon cracks a wry smile.

“I ain’t telling you that.”

The ring of Hoseok’s phone cuts the lingering tension in two and like an air escaping from a pop balloon, the room grows lax.

If a bit sad.

“Hey babe,” Hoseok greets you and Namjoon simply pretends like he isn’t here to hear that. “You’re waiting outside? Yeah, I’ll get going soon. Bye. Love you too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Namjoon turns away, obstinately staring at anything just to not see what currently he does not want to see. Hoseok simply lets him be.

“I’ve got to go,” he waves around some well-meaning gesture that falls flat on comfort, already halfway there to bolt out of the door. “Will you be okay?”

He watches Namjoon scuff the shoe against the floor. It’s a tad too angry for someone who will undoubtedly insist on being utterly okay.

“Yeah, of course!” Namjoon brushes him off, feigning indifference a bit too well. “I’ll just, you know, go into my studio and write some lyrics to process my bottomless devotion to the love of your life.”

Kidding! — follows soon after.

“Sort of,” is added when Hoseok ultimately leaves the room.

JIMIN | “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Jimin…”

“Don’t you dare to pity me!”

“I’m not. Actually, quite the opposite.”

Jimin glowers at Yoongi across the rim of his glass but it doesn’t quite have the effect he pictured. Yoongi keeps on wearing the same unimpressed grimace he’d sat down with. He draws a great sigh for the upteenth time and begins again, a bit gentler, a bit more lenient.

Jimin doesn’t know which is worse — either way, he’s a hair away from bursting into tears.

“I didn’t expect you, out of all people, to think with your fists instead of your brain.”

And just like that, the tears evaporate.

“He tried to take them away,” he whispers, voice shaking from the barely concealed rage. Not even at Jungkook’s feelings per se but rather at his sheer audacity. Jimin would understand if he would just fall in love with you, he would understand, he knows how easy it was to love you, to be consumed by you but to go—!

“He went behind my back!” he cries out loudly, instantly drawing the attention to their small table. “He went and asked to be given a chance!”

The frown on Yoongi’s face deepens and seeing such an opening Jimin reaches out and does what he knows best. He pours himself a drink, knocks it down into his throat and hopes he’ll pass out soon.

Yoongi bats at his arm, steadily growing redder and redder from the frustration alone.

“Stop drinking!” he chides with an irritated hiss. “I’m not excusing Jungkook’s actions. But you know how he is.”

“And thus I’m supposed to forgive him for trying to fuck my fucking partner?!”

Once again, all eyes sit on their table as Jimin’s voice rises into an angered scream.

“Yeah, and look at you now. You’ve traded fists with your best friend, gotten yourself a busted lip and _______________ has moved out and honestly good for them. I also wouldn’t want to stand you clowns.”

“You’re supposed to be comforting me,” Jimin scoffs but receives nothing but an ill-meaning glare back.

“I’m all out.”

When at long last Jimin gets home, it’s well past three in the morning. His head is spinning and not so small part of him regrets ever drinking. The alcohol is clawing back up his throat and it doesn’t care that he’s putting a palm in front of his mouth. He’s about to vomit it all back out.

“Jesus,” a blur of a voice calls above him and Jimin finds himself being hastily carded to the toilet. He wonders who it is — it couldn't be you, you wouldn’t be able to lug him around like a roll of wet paper towels but he simply doesn’t have the time to care about it. As the next thing that comes out of his mouth is not a question poised, eloquenty or not, but a steady stream of stomach acid and half-digested fragments of his piss-poor dinner. His faceless saviour brushes the hair back from his forehead, occasionally laying an empathetic pat on his back. Though his mouth of full of bile, Jimin tries to say he appreciates it.

The sun greets him vicious and unforgiving. His head pounds and for the longest part of an hour, Jimin doesn’t even recall on how he made it back into his bed. Spotting a full glass of water and painkillers, he both chugs it all down and prays to heaven that it is you. Someone’s definitely clambering around his kitchen. The noise of a pan on a stove is unmistakanable regardless of the state he’s in.

Cautiously, Jimin pads over to the kitchen, attempting to put together at least two phrases of a genuine apology but the sight he sees only further spikes the nausea gripping him whole.

Unless you suddenly grew a mullet, got an armful of tattoos, a lip piercing and a cosmetic surgery, he’s fairly sure that it isn’t you standing by a stove and cooking a pan of eggs but one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook the traitor.

Jeon Jungkook the one Jimin thought was a friend.

Best friend in fact.

In spite of how hard Jimin tries to eviscerate Jungkook with his glare, he cannot help but cringe as the man whips around, showcasing his black eye. Instinctually, Jimin runs a tongue over his lip. It still hurts.

There is a pregnant pause during which they don’t speak, merely stay in their respective corners of the room. Jungkook shifts from one foot to another, white knuckling the handle of the pan.

“I made you some eggs,” he splutters, hopefully presenting the food. Ever so slowly, Jimin lowers his gaze towards them and quirks a brow in order to show just how unfettered he is by it.

“I’ll vomit them back in your face,” he states coldly and Jungkook all but withers into himself.

“Listen, man, I know that I overstepped some boundaries—”

“Some?!” at once, Jimin has to clutch at his head to make sure it simply does not implode.

“All of the boundaries,” he corrects. "And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I betrayed your trust and __________’s trust, and I know that neither of you owe me your forgiveness.”

Jimin pries open one of his eyelids — it’s swollen and laced with sleep but even so he knows Jungkook and he knows Jungkook wasn’t capable of lying.

He truly is sorry.

“Why the change of heart?” Jimin barks mistrustfully. “Since when do you care for anything but yourself?”

It’s a low blow but damn if it does not delight him, to hurt Jungkook just as much as Jimin was hurt.

“________________,” Jungkook sighs, his nose scrunching up at what is certainly a recollection of some exceedingly sour memories. “Chewed me the fuck out. They said—” his breath hitches. In a still moment between one breath and the next, there is a single, utterly pathethic plea ringing in Jimin’s ears—

Please, dont take them away from me

“They said they were disgusted by me.”

He has to physically bite his tongue to not say “I’m sorry”. It’s just as instinctual for him to comfort Jungkook as it is for their younger one to seek that same comfort. For a brief moment, he sees a much younger Jungkook. A much younger Jungkook come to beg for understanding and Jimin himself, feels much younger. Much more ill-equipped to deal with Jungkook’s fragile heart.

But that moment disappears and with it the breadth of his anger.

It’s churning, he knows it is, he doesn’t deny it but he reckons that step by step, day by cautious day they’ll be able to calll each other friends again and greet you back home, inhabiting their rightful roles.

You would say they're a broken pot with its cracks glued by gold.

Yoongi would say they’re fucking morons.

TAEHYUNG | Dearest ____________________,

Let me preface this by saying, I know it’s inappropriate and I know it’s unfair for me to spring this on you. I must seem like a coward to you and that’s beacause I am one. Million times I must have tried to tell you, to be able to say IT to your face but I just can’t. I don’t care what you do with this letter, burn it if you must, destroy it if it brings you peace but a part of me reasons that people deserve to know when one loves them and so I tell you.

I love you.

I love you insanely. I love you devoutly but most of all I want to love you selflessly so I won’t ask of you anything don’t worry. I won’t ask of you to meet me, I won’t ask of you to let me down, gently or otherwise, I won’t ask of you to even look at me. I burn for you, I yearn for you but I also know you love Taehyung. I see your love for him as clear as I see my own so I understand I don’t have a place in your life. I don’t even dare to ask of you such a thing.

You may wonder why even write this at all? Well, for me this is a speech. A speech one would give at a funeral. I scream and I vomit all that I feel and with it, with every stroke of this stupid pen I hammer in a nail into a coffin of all the fondness I hold for you. With any luck, I’ll be able to return to it rarer and rarer until at last it’s swallowed by moss and will lay unrecognizable. With any luck, the scar will heal and will be just that — a painless scar left by idiocy of youth.

I don’t want you to find me, I don’t want you to know me, all I want is for you and Taehyung to be happy. Oh, Taehyung, if only I could also say how sorry I am for ever letting him down.

So please be happy _______________. Be the happiest a person has ever been so I can rest easy and breathe a little easier each day, knowing that none of us has made a grave mistake.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer.

Quite the letter, Taehyung reckons, closing it shut once he finishes tracing the inked lines. The thick black of the room is cut only by the orange flames licking at the firewood in the old fireplace. Glancing quietly across the shoulder, he finds you sleeping soundly on the hotel bed, hair splattered messily across the pillowcase. Taehyung supresses a deep sigh of relief before turning back with a heavy frown etched upon his face.

He took you away just in time, whoever this secret admirer was, he clearly held something more than a casual crush. When did he have the time to slip this into your bag, Taehyung did not know but it scared the shit out of him. The only people who both knew of his sudden trip to France and had the opportunity to see you were his members. His friends. His brothers. Which meant that one of them betrayed him. For one of them your name on their lips was not something easy to be spoken. For one of them your name was a benediction, meant to be sighed in shameful isolation.

The poetics said Namjoon but don’t find me said Yoongi. Loving insanely was Jungkook wanting to love selflessly was Jimin. But who could possibly know — maybe it was Hoseok, maybe it was Jin — Taehyung certainly didn’t.

He gazed down onto the thin paper, lips curling in distaste. Whoever he was, he should have just kept it to himself. For the first time, Taehyung was happy in his relationship, secure even and here he comes, one of his family, tearing it down.

Perhaps he should do what this admirer said — forget about it. No one wants to hate their family, right?

Yes, he thinks to himself, I’ll forget about. I’ll try really, really hard.

It was a good letter, beautiful even, he has to admit that much.

Shame though, he doesn’t hesitate to toss it into the flames, ______________won’t ever read it.

JUNGKOOK | “Baby, please.”

Jungkook loathes the fact at how weak he grows underneath your touch. Where others would give him a wide berth, all in fear of incuring a foul mood, you merely have to wrap your arms around his back and he feels the tension unlatching its jaw from his shoulders.

“Just talk to Jin.”

“Don’t even mention his name,” he growls, trying to sound pissed but his body has a mind of its own. It reaches to tug you closer around him, almost frightened that should he let you go for just a second, he could lose you.

“He came forward with how he felt,” you reason slowly, cautiously. “He was honest and just let it all out.”

“He should have choked with it,” Jungkook refutes. You don’t buy it.

“You don’t mean that.”

Jungkook knows you know he knows he doesn’t mean it but for the time being he just wants to be angry.

He turns to look over his shoulder, finding you nuzzled into his spine, swaying slighty from left to right. His heart swells with all this…love he held for you. Whatever Jin held was nothing but a cheap copy, a fling, a failure of the brain.

“You’re mine, got it,” he tries to warn you but you all but laugh at the pout in his tone. “I don’t care how handsome you think Jin is, you promised me forever first. Finders keepers and all that.”

“You’re a bit delusional, you know that?” you rub your nose against his jumper, spectacularly failing at trying to supress the smirk fighting its way onto your face.

“So what?” he scoffs, turning to scrub the dishes with far more vigour than neccessary. “It makes me happy.”

But your voice of “just talk to Jin” doesn’t leave the side of his ear. Like an overzealous mosquito it buzzes around his head at all hours of the day, at all hours of the night, round and round until Jungkook swears it makes his nose bleed.

It’s well past midnight when he finally musters up the courage to press the dial button to Jin’s number. His knee refuses to sit still and behind his back he’s crossing his fingers hoping that his friend will be asleep.

He is not.

When Jin replies with a timid “hello” he is surprisingly coherent as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“_______________ told me to give you a call,” Jungkook grouses instead of a greeting and the other line of the phone grows uncomfortably quiet.

“They’re too kind,” Jin whispers and Jungkook certainly agrees on it.

He taps his leg, bites his lip, looks at you for guidance — you’re asleep on his bed, practically knocked out because Jungkook just had to…show his love for you — and none of it helps him to get over this sudden knot growing at the base of his throat.

However, Jin beats it to him.

“I know I said it already,” he mutters miserably, voice crackingi across the connection. “But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry for doing this to you Jungkook. I wish nothing but happiness for you and _______________.”

They cry, they curse, they share their love for you and some three hours later it’s somewhat easier to breathe. The days, the weeks that Jungkook couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares of his light being stolen away, are wiped away with a cool hand and he rejoices in the comfort it provides. He doesn’t say I love you to Jin, he’s not yet ready for that but he knows Jin knows and he knows that Jin knows that he knows.

For now he just wants to sleep. Putting the phone away, Jungkook drops himself back into the pillow,  heaving a drawn-out sigh up against the black ceiling. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your neck “good night” as he always does. It’ll be alright, he reminds himself, surprisingly, it’ll all be just fine.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @sukunabitch; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi; @back2bluesidex; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett; @royallyjjk

 © soraviie, 2023

[soraviie]

Seven Days a Week

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/female reader

Rating: M for mature

Genre:  slice of life? Non!idol au

Warnings: Smut, being followed around by Jungkook, mentions of scrapes and bruises, arguing

Summary: Every hour, every minute, every second - Jungkook wants to be with you. This is based loosely off the MV. 

Word Count: 2489

Keep reading

#file/bookshelf

[soraviie]

Hey bubs I've been following u for a while and you're one of the sweetest people here. headpats

Love you!

#thank you (T_T) #file/ask

[soraviie]

all the links should be up and working now!

just so you know, the masterlist link that you have added to the picture request posts recently, are not working in the web version of tumblr. 🙁

Oh goddamnit. I'll check it out once I'm home 😭 thank you for letting me know 💞💞

[soraviie]

just so you know, the masterlist link that you have added to the picture request posts recently, are not working in the web version of tumblr. 🙁

Oh goddamnit. I'll check it out once I'm home 😭 thank you for letting me know 💞💞

[soraviie]

another member is in love with you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader   ━ masterlist

━ about: angst, a few hurt/comfort elements; this somehow wound up being about the bond between boys as much as the x reader part

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━  c/w: depiction of throwing up in Jimin’s part

NAMJOON | “Since when did you switch to another movie?”

Though the haze with which he’d come home with had not disappeared entirely, it did lessen. However, with this sentence being the first and only thing he’d spoken to you the entire day…well, you couldn’t help but be just a tad ornery.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” you jeer. “We do hope you enjoy your stay here.”

But something is undeniably wrong and it’s not the silence or the faraway gleam of his expression that gives it away but rather the absolute lack of reaction. His hand still monotonously brushes up against your leg that sits perched up in his lap but he’s simply not here.

“Joon,” you call out, a stern new tone lilting your voice. It stirs him enough to break whatever trance he self-imposed and lifting his head, Namjoon blearily blinks up like one would after a long nap.

“What’s with you?”

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

Sitting half-turned on the sofa with a distinct wrinkle of an oncoming frown, he awaits your answer. One you don’t know.

“Yoongi?” you parrot, all of a sudden being the confused one. “What…what does Yoongi have to do with anything?”

“Like are you two close?”

A beat of silence drags on as you stare at each other. It is frustrating being asked something you did not understand and yet even more so looking into Namjoon’s eyes and having no idea what is it that’s sitting behind them.

“Uh…not really?” at last you cautiously reply. “He texts me something funny every now and then but that’s it.”

“What kind of ‘something funny’?”

The room tumbles into another bout of silence. Slowly you tuck your legs away and though his fingers clutch repeatedly around the emptied air as if the sudden domestic absence has hurt him, the tone of his voice is just too damn imperial for you to care.

“Memes, cat videos,” unwittingly, a part of you — not so agreeable part — breaks free and arching an equally damning eyebrow, you goad him on: “Why? You want to have a look?”

He thinks of it, he genuinely weighs it over, you could see it in the way his pupils dart to the side, half-calculating, half-ashamed of the possibility. By the time that he wistfully utters: “no, there’s no need” it is too late. The tranquil peace of a quiet evening has thoroughly evaporated — what lingers in the air now is terse and partly hidden.

You may not know Yoongi but Namjoon knows Yoongi and he knows that there is something soft that quirks his lips at the mere mention of your name. That the way his gaze follows you around is just a touch too tender. Safe to say, it all goes unspoken — it is Yoongi after all — and Namjoon doesn’t know whether it’s for the better or worse. There is a certain kind of cathartic appeal to just shouting things aloud, consequences be damned, but as it stands, for now at least, everything is quiet and nothing is resolved.

Still, Yoongi doesn’t bother you — shouldn’t that be enough? He has the freedom to feel how he feels, just not the right to act upon it. And the fact is that it wasn’t Yoongi per se that was ruining his relationship right now; Namjoon was doing it quite well all by himself.

Peeking at you from the corner of the eye, he finds you sitting blue. Blue as in bathed in the blue light of the working TV although you do appear quite sad — all shrunken away into the corner, staring at the screen but not seeing anything.

You’ve had a fight.

He just started a fight.

Drawing a curt sigh, Namjoon inches himself a bit closer, acutely monitoring every last bit of you, down to the microexpressions. The slightly stretched out bottom lip, the tightly wound arms around your stomach, just the slight, almost imperceptible crease in between your eyebrows — yes, most certainly, you’ve just had a fight.

Still despite Namjoon moving ever so closer, slyly crawling back into your good graces both metaphorically and physically, you don’t make a move to deny him or cuss him out. In fact, you don’t make any move and once again he doesn’t know if that’s for the better or worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s earnest — you both know it is. You may not know that he’s saying sorry for more than just this but that too is earnest. “I don’t want us to fight.”

“Then don’t start no fights,” spitefully, you bite back but if your non-reaction was anything to go by as Namjoon places a palm on your knee, he will be forgiven.

YOONGI | Well, I should count my blessings it wasn’t Jungkook. Chiefly, that’s the first thought that pops into his head when on a random Tuesday in the most random of practice rooms, he sees the contact picture saved as Jimin’s phone lights up. Yoongi knows that picture, he took that picture. Which of course prompts the question how did Jimin get his hands on it because last time anyone checked you were Yoongi’s partner and not anyone else’s.

Sliding to unlock the call, he’s hoping like never before that it won’t about to change.

“Yes?”

“Yoongi?” instantly, you wonder. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know. Why do you—” fuck, his voice cracked. “Why do you want him? I mean, talk to him?”

“I don’t even know myself, dude,” loudly, you complain. “He called me some time ago, saying there’s something uber important to talk about and now I can’t get a hold of him anymore.”

Just then when Yoongi’s heart is about to free fall right to the bottom of his stomach, the doors to this very random practice room open and because life has a cruel and twisted sense of irony, it’s Jimin who steps through. Lately, he’s been looking haggard and it had been an unspoken agreement between the boys that his problems laid with album production but now, in one hand holding the love of his life and in the other what probably was his brother’s heart yearning for one he couldn’t have, Yoongi wonders whether it’s you whose keeping Jimin up at night with guilt. You and the smiling picture he definitely shouldn't have.

For a moment they simply stare at each other, without speaking a word. Like a clash of two worlds, the collective breath has been knocked out of the room and not even the clock pinned to the wall can cut through the sheer volume of silence.

At last, Yoongi gathers himself and stretching out the phone, he makes sure that his tone is nothing but utterly monotone.

“It’s ______________.”

Jimin grows deathly pale. His widened eyes jump from the phone in Yoongi's hands to Yoongi himself and like a deer in headlights, he keeps standing still. If his dry lips part to mutter something, no sound leaves him. The only thing he can muster is an awkward incline to indicate some kind of bow. Yoongi cards him back the phone, pretending he can’t hear your voice repeatedly questioning “hello?” on the other line and quickly steps out of the room.

It takes him three more hours than usual to get home. By that time you’re soundly asleep, clutching at the shirt Yoongi had so carelessly discarded on the bed this very morning. He quite earnestly wishes to go back to that moment, call in sick and not let either of you move out of the bed.

Despite him most definitely not wanting to, the smile creeping on his face is by now an instinctual. You could make him beam like a spring sunshine by just waking up. He loves you he knows that. He loves Jimin and Jimin as it turns out loves you. The question is of course — do you love Jimin as well?

Maybe he could…share?

“No, no,” Yoongi shakes his head, muttering to himself in the pale yellow light of the nightlamp. “What the fuck am I even thinking?”

How would that work? He gets you from Monday to Thursday only to then card you over to Jimin for the remaining week?

Glimpsing at you slumbering, half-nestled underneath the duvet, he can’t help but shudder. If you would ever learn what he just thought, it wouldn’t matter whether you love Jimin or not, because sure as hell Yoongi wouldn’t be alive to learn that fact.

Safe to say, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

As Yoongi tiredly observes you getting ready, there is an aggravating, oozing cut on his heart and every single action of yours pokes a big salted thumb right in its middle. Did you made your hair with the same level of precision when you went on a date with him? Did you dig through numerous outfits as desperately for him, trying, no, feeling the need to look good?

By the time, you’re done, he’s sitting on the bed, bleeding dry. Still, there are some things to consider — you were getting ready in his bedroom, it was his shirt you were pulling over your head and it was his initials hanging on a dainty chain down your neck.

… as it turns out, a drunken second date could lead to many things, be it a custom jewelry or a tattoo of someone’s name on their back or…left butt cheek, to be more precise.

You had a history together and he could only hope that it meant something to you.

“I’m going to meet up with—”

“Jimin after work.”

You swerve to gander at him, frowning as you do so but Yoongi doesn’t explain how he knows you will. Only wishes a succinct “don’t be out too late” and lets you out of his grasp.

It wasn’t like him to chain anyone down and you wouldn’t love him if he did. This is one of those things he just has to trust you with and maybe in time, he’ll learn to trust Jimin again.

True to your promise, when the clock strikes six you’re not at home like you usually would be. At first seven passes, then eight, then nine. Yoongi still gives you the benefit of the doubt. But when the clock starts crawling half past eleven, his knee cannot stop bouncing and his mouth cannot stop gnawing on his own nails. However, just when he no longer can stand the veritable avalanche of anxiety bucking him under, you drag yourself through the door. All complaints and accusations swiftly evaporate from the tip of his tongue as Yoongi takes in just how dead you appear. Your expression is permanently frozen in a state of hurt confusion so much so that when Yoongi slides the jacket over your shoulders, you don’t seem to notice his presence.

It’s only around one in the morning, when staring at a steaming mug of warm tea, you dare to whisper the revelation Yoongi already knows.

“Jimin said he’s in love with me.”

“I know.”

He cringes as the hurt in your eyes now finds him. Sweet heaven, how could Jimin ever do this.

“You knew?” incredulously, you question. “You knew and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“It was not my secret to tell,” firmly, he replies. “And you know that.”

“But you don’t know how he looked!” you continue, steadily working yourself up to an angered hiss. “He said he loves me and hates himself for it. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt you. You know he thinks of you like a brother.”

Dragging a tired palm over his face, Yoongi whispers that he does know that.

“Anyway, Jimin told me that he has no intention of butting in our relationship,” you conclude numbly and while Yoongi is happy to hear it, the same delight is overshadowed by worry. Was Jimin drinking? Was he somewhere unsafe in Seoul right now?

Seemingly being able to read his mind, you answer before the question is even poised.

“I made sure Jungkook picks him up and looks after him,” you sigh, pushing the mug away. It was completely full. “He wanted to apologize to you for doing this.”

“Via you?”

You sigh once more and somehow it’s even heavier.

“I don’t think that he can bear to look at you right now.”

Yoongi’s gaze darts to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, it lays there dull and lifeless up until you reach to gently wrap a hand around his palm.

“We’ll be okay,” you reassure him with a smile far too meagre to be convincing. “All of us will be okay. In time.”

It takes approximately a week for Yoongi to run into Jimin. They cross each other's paths in a hallway next to the exit doors. What sparse conversation they share is gone as soon as it starts. Yoongi takes in the exhausted, heartbroken look that seems to devour Jimin whole and all he manages to wrangle out is an understanding “I’m sorry” spoken at a distance.

Jimin gives him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, before putting back his headphones and stalking out into the rain soaked street with a downward gaze.

Yoongi hopes that it will be, as you said, all okay in due time.

SEOKJIN | Hoseok’s entry level of amusement had always been on the floor. Thus seeing him nearly double over in a peel of roaring laughter is not by any means an unusual sight. But...

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, standing next to a positively beaming Hoseok. You were funny, Hoseok liked funny.

And he also liked you.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the tiny fact that you and Jin already have matching bands around your fingers and that you are in fact undeniably, irrevocably the love of his life.

So…there’s that.

Though sitting back and simply observing feels somehow wrong, what else is he supposed to do? Going over there and punching Hoseok in the teeth is not only something he would not usually do but also, in Jin’s mind, it wasn’t even close to being productive — so what else is there?

And yes maybe it does irk him.

“Gosh, it looks like a painting,” you sigh contently, gazing over the rolling grass and clumps of disorganised mountains in the background.

“I know, a real masterpiece,” Hoseok agrees but his heart-shaped gaze is not found on said clumps of mountains or the tufts of white clouds rolling above. It's firmly planted on you and so it has been for quite some time.

Yes, it does irk him, knowing that his brother, practically flesh and blood in all the accounts that it mattered, would betray him but even so the last thing Jin wants is to tell you. There was no doubt about it — the knowledge would break your heart.

At first, you’d blame yourself, concocting in your mind that somehow this was solely just your doing and that should any fight occur it’d be you who’d spark it and then you’d cut ties with Hoseok completely. Whatever the case may be of his feelings, Hoseok was the first one who accepted you, who welcomed you into their midst as Jin’s partner with no suspicions or walls of guarded behaviour. He’d become your ride and die and frankly, very, very frankly, Jin was just as worried whether Hoseok would survive such sudden separation.

He can’t not care for his friend and as messy as it is, his friend’s wellbeing now partially hinged on his partner’s smile.

What a shit fest.

Jin is fairly certain Hoseok will not attempt anything. The sense of shame broiling within him is so apparent that more than once someone else had caught Jin by the elbow, wondering whether they have had a fight.

They haven’t, monotonously, he replies each and every time, but he doesn’t insist it’s all good either.

Regardless, the fact is he hasn’t spoken with Hoseok for…quite some time. His contact number has traversed from the usual "recently dialled" to possibly being outdated.

“Hey, you’re not sick, are you?” the sound of your worried voice at last rouses Jin from the literal plague of thoughts buzzing around. For good measure, you put your palm on his forehead, trying to gauge the temperature.

Jin wrangles it away, for a moment considering whether to kiss it. Hoseok is looking.

He chooses to hold your hand instead, his finger lingering on the promise ring.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“You’ve just been really quiet ever since we got here.”

“I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of struggles you have to go through.”

Your brow wrinkles and you gaze down on Jin whose been slowly or not so slowly sipping his whiskey by the fire pit.

“Struggles?” you echoe confused and Jin gives a sage nod.

“I’m already so beautiful every single moment but out here — in our forest get together… I can’t even imagine how you cope. I must be absolutely enthralling.”

There’s a solid minute of absolute silence before you enrupt in fond laughter.

“Don’t ever change, Jin.”

He tries to mimic your grin but it falls a touch too flat so instead his eye travels towards the onlooking Hoseok. Both hold each other’s stare before quickly turning away.

“I definitely won’t,” absent-mindedly, Jin mumbles under the nose.

HOSEOK | It just had to be Namjoon.

“Well, at least it’s not Jungkook,” Namjoon breathes a demure laugh.

If Hoseok had any heart to pummel him through the ground, he would.

“Motherfucker, really?!”

“I’m sorry.”

It truly was a curse to see someone as human. Because no matter how mad Hoseok was at Namjoon, he could not rid himself of a kid's image in this man. A kid who always was beside him. A kid with all the big dreams and all the wrong approaches to those dreams. Still, Namjoon had a kind heart and there was no one more dedicated to fixing their wrongs than him. Hoseok presumes it was this same dedication that had brought his best friend to his doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a great big apology tumbling like vomit out of his mouth.

“They just called me to help arrange your birthday present. I promise it wasn’t any more than that.”

For what seems like the hundredth time, Namjoon rushes to explain, wearing not to subtle glimmer of delirium in his eye.

“We met up for a coffee,” Hoseok’s eyebrow twitches and though he could have sworn it was impossible, Namjoon grows a touch paler from fear. “And we only discussed you and I left the second I could!”

“So my partner called up my best friend whose actually in love with them to discuss the plans for my birthday. Me, their partner who knows that his best friend is in love with said partner.”

All Namjoon can really do is apologetically rub the back of his neck all while trying (and failing) to inconscpicously inch closer towards the doors.

“It’s messed up, I know.”

“It’s more than a little messed up, Joon,” Hoseok laughs dryly, already sensing the tepid touch of an oncoming migraine. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Immediately, Namjoon shakes his head, the glasses perched on the top of his nose threatening to simply hurtle against the wall.

“We agreed to not tell them. I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

And Hoseok does hate himself for it but he’s always wondered so why not ask while the opportunity is still fresh —

“Why did you agree?” he prods with what to him appears as a cautious hand. “You could have just told how you feel—”

But Namjoon is quick to interrupt.

“I don’t want to,” he states with no small amount of firmness. It’s the sort of resolution Hoseok has seen him wield in front of the UN, in front of difficulties he could not even comprehend. Something steel-like rests behind his gaze and Hoseok knows that whatever sort of intention Namjoon has set on you, no force of nature can lead him astray.

“I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.”

“_____________ wouldn’t look at you with—”

“Yes, they would,” Namjoon interrupts him again, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “I wouldn’t be Namjoon the leader, Namjoon the trustworthy member, Namjoon, your,” he stammers; it’s almost imperceptible alas Hoseok just knows him too well. “Your brother but I’d be small Namjoon. I’d be Namjoon the naive fool who would require kid gloves in case any remark about the happiness of your relationship would break his heart. And I don’t want that.”

Ah.

“I want ________________,” they both know it’s a poor choice of wording but none of them is brave enough to remark upon it. “In a natural way, you know. I want to be their friend, I don’t want to make things any more complicated. So, yeah, I don’t want to tell them and perhaps,” he licks at his dry lips, briefly glimpsing outside. Unbeknowst to himself Hoseok mimicks the movement, forcing the barest sliver of a smile upon Namjoon’s face. “Nah, it is selfish but it is what it is.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they stand silent and it’s painfully awkward but also…it’s good. It’s almost unbelievable but things are actually peaceful between them.

“What does ____________ has planned for my birthday?”

Namjoon cracks a wry smile.

“I ain’t telling you that.”

The ring of Hoseok’s phone cuts the lingering tension in two and like an air escaping from a pop balloon, the room grows lax.

If a bit sad.

“Hey babe,” Hoseok greets you and Namjoon simply pretends like he isn’t here to hear that. “You’re waiting outside? Yeah, I’ll get going soon. Bye. Love you too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Namjoon turns away, obstinately staring at anything just to not see what currently he does not want to see. Hoseok simply lets him be.

“I’ve got to go,” he waves around some well-meaning gesture that falls flat on comfort, already halfway there to bolt out of the door. “Will you be okay?”

He watches Namjoon scuff the shoe against the floor. It’s a tad too angry for someone who will undoubtedly insist on being utterly okay.

“Yeah, of course!” Namjoon brushes him off, feigning indifference a bit too well. “I’ll just, you know, go into my studio and write some lyrics to process my bottomless devotion to the love of your life.”

Kidding! — follows soon after.

“Sort of,” is added when Hoseok ultimately leaves the room.

JIMIN | “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Jimin…”

“Don’t you dare to pity me!”

“I’m not. Actually, quite the opposite.”

Jimin glowers at Yoongi across the rim of his glass but it doesn’t quite have the effect he pictured. Yoongi keeps on wearing the same unimpressed grimace he’d sat down with. He draws a great sigh for the upteenth time and begins again, a bit gentler, a bit more lenient.

Jimin doesn’t know which is worse — either way, he’s a hair away from bursting into tears.

“I didn’t expect you, out of all people, to think with your fists instead of your brain.”

And just like that, the tears evaporate.

“He tried to take them away,” he whispers, voice shaking from the barely concealed rage. Not even at Jungkook’s feelings per se but rather at his sheer audacity. Jimin would understand if he would just fall in love with you, he would understand, he knows how easy it was to love you, to be consumed by you but to go—!

“He went behind my back!” he cries out loudly, instantly drawing the attention to their small table. “He went and asked to be given a chance!”

The frown on Yoongi’s face deepens and seeing such an opening Jimin reaches out and does what he knows best. He pours himself a drink, knocks it down into his throat and hopes he’ll pass out soon.

Yoongi bats at his arm, steadily growing redder and redder from the frustration alone.

“Stop drinking!” he chides with an irritated hiss. “I’m not excusing Jungkook’s actions. But you know how he is.”

“And thus I’m supposed to forgive him for trying to fuck my fucking partner?!”

Once again, all eyes sit on their table as Jimin’s voice rises into an angered scream.

“Yeah, and look at you now. You’ve traded fists with your best friend, gotten yourself a busted lip and _______________ has moved out and honestly good for them. I also wouldn’t want to stand you clowns.”

“You’re supposed to be comforting me,” Jimin scoffs but receives nothing but an ill-meaning glare back.

“I’m all out.”

When at long last Jimin gets home, it’s well past three in the morning. His head is spinning and not so small part of him regrets ever drinking. The alcohol is clawing back up his throat and it doesn’t care that he’s putting a palm in front of his mouth. He’s about to vomit it all back out.

“Jesus,” a blur of a voice calls above him and Jimin finds himself being hastily carded to the toilet. He wonders who it is — it couldn't be you, you wouldn’t be able to lug him around like a roll of wet paper towels but he simply doesn’t have the time to care about it. As the next thing that comes out of his mouth is not a question poised, eloquenty or not, but a steady stream of stomach acid and half-digested fragments of his piss-poor dinner. His faceless saviour brushes the hair back from his forehead, occasionally laying an empathetic pat on his back. Though his mouth of full of bile, Jimin tries to say he appreciates it.

The sun greets him vicious and unforgiving. His head pounds and for the longest part of an hour, Jimin doesn’t even recall on how he made it back into his bed. Spotting a full glass of water and painkillers, he both chugs it all down and prays to heaven that it is you. Someone’s definitely clambering around his kitchen. The noise of a pan on a stove is unmistakanable regardless of the state he’s in.

Cautiously, Jimin pads over to the kitchen, attempting to put together at least two phrases of a genuine apology but the sight he sees only further spikes the nausea gripping him whole.

Unless you suddenly grew a mullet, got an armful of tattoos, a lip piercing and a cosmetic surgery, he’s fairly sure that it isn’t you standing by a stove and cooking a pan of eggs but one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook the traitor.

Jeon Jungkook the one Jimin thought was a friend.

Best friend in fact.

In spite of how hard Jimin tries to eviscerate Jungkook with his glare, he cannot help but cringe as the man whips around, showcasing his black eye. Instinctually, Jimin runs a tongue over his lip. It still hurts.

There is a pregnant pause during which they don’t speak, merely stay in their respective corners of the room. Jungkook shifts from one foot to another, white knuckling the handle of the pan.

“I made you some eggs,” he splutters, hopefully presenting the food. Ever so slowly, Jimin lowers his gaze towards them and quirks a brow in order to show just how unfettered he is by it.

“I’ll vomit them back in your face,” he states coldly and Jungkook all but withers into himself.

“Listen, man, I know that I overstepped some boundaries—”

“Some?!” at once, Jimin has to clutch at his head to make sure it simply does not implode.

“All of the boundaries,” he corrects. "And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I betrayed your trust and __________’s trust, and I know that neither of you owe me your forgiveness.”

Jimin pries open one of his eyelids — it’s swollen and laced with sleep but even so he knows Jungkook and he knows Jungkook wasn’t capable of lying.

He truly is sorry.

“Why the change of heart?” Jimin barks mistrustfully. “Since when do you care for anything but yourself?”

It’s a low blow but damn if it does not delight him, to hurt Jungkook just as much as Jimin was hurt.

“________________,” Jungkook sighs, his nose scrunching up at what is certainly a recollection of some exceedingly sour memories. “Chewed me the fuck out. They said—” his breath hitches. In a still moment between one breath and the next, there is a single, utterly pathethic plea ringing in Jimin’s ears—

Please, dont take them away from me

“They said they were disgusted by me.”

He has to physically bite his tongue to not say “I’m sorry”. It’s just as instinctual for him to comfort Jungkook as it is for their younger one to seek that same comfort. For a brief moment, he sees a much younger Jungkook. A much younger Jungkook come to beg for understanding and Jimin himself, feels much younger. Much more ill-equipped to deal with Jungkook’s fragile heart.

But that moment disappears and with it the breadth of his anger.

It’s churning, he knows it is, he doesn’t deny it but he reckons that step by step, day by cautious day they’ll be able to calll each other friends again and greet you back home, inhabiting their rightful roles.

You would say they're a broken pot with its cracks glued by gold.

Yoongi would say they’re fucking morons.

TAEHYUNG | Dearest ____________________,

Let me preface this by saying, I know it’s inappropriate and I know it’s unfair for me to spring this on you. I must seem like a coward to you and that’s beacause I am one. Million times I must have tried to tell you, to be able to say IT to your face but I just can’t. I don’t care what you do with this letter, burn it if you must, destroy it if it brings you peace but a part of me reasons that people deserve to know when one loves them and so I tell you.

I love you.

I love you insanely. I love you devoutly but most of all I want to love you selflessly so I won’t ask of you anything don’t worry. I won’t ask of you to meet me, I won’t ask of you to let me down, gently or otherwise, I won’t ask of you to even look at me. I burn for you, I yearn for you but I also know you love Taehyung. I see your love for him as clear as I see my own so I understand I don’t have a place in your life. I don’t even dare to ask of you such a thing.

You may wonder why even write this at all? Well, for me this is a speech. A speech one would give at a funeral. I scream and I vomit all that I feel and with it, with every stroke of this stupid pen I hammer in a nail into a coffin of all the fondness I hold for you. With any luck, I’ll be able to return to it rarer and rarer until at last it’s swallowed by moss and will lay unrecognizable. With any luck, the scar will heal and will be just that — a painless scar left by idiocy of youth.

I don’t want you to find me, I don’t want you to know me, all I want is for you and Taehyung to be happy. Oh, Taehyung, if only I could also say how sorry I am for ever letting him down.

So please be happy _______________. Be the happiest a person has ever been so I can rest easy and breathe a little easier each day, knowing that none of us has made a grave mistake.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer.

Quite the letter, Taehyung reckons, closing it shut once he finishes tracing the inked lines. The thick black of the room is cut only by the orange flames licking at the firewood in the old fireplace. Glancing quietly across the shoulder, he finds you sleeping soundly on the hotel bed, hair splattered messily across the pillowcase. Taehyung supresses a deep sigh of relief before turning back with a heavy frown etched upon his face.

He took you away just in time, whoever this secret admirer was, he clearly held something more than a casual crush. When did he have the time to slip this into your bag, Taehyung did not know but it scared the shit out of him. The only people who both knew of his sudden trip to France and had the opportunity to see you were his members. His friends. His brothers. Which meant that one of them betrayed him. For one of them your name on their lips was not something easy to be spoken. For one of them your name was a benediction, meant to be sighed in shameful isolation.

The poetics said Namjoon but don’t find me said Yoongi. Loving insanely was Jungkook wanting to love selflessly was Jimin. But who could possibly know — maybe it was Hoseok, maybe it was Jin — Taehyung certainly didn’t.

He gazed down onto the thin paper, lips curling in distaste. Whoever he was, he should have just kept it to himself. For the first time, Taehyung was happy in his relationship, secure even and here he comes, one of his family, tearing it down.

Perhaps he should do what this admirer said — forget about it. No one wants to hate their family, right?

Yes, he thinks to himself, I’ll forget about. I’ll try really, really hard.

It was a good letter, beautiful even, he has to admit that much.

Shame though, he doesn’t hesitate to toss it into the flames, ______________won’t ever read it.

JUNGKOOK | “Baby, please.”

Jungkook loathes the fact at how weak he grows underneath your touch. Where others would give him a wide berth, all in fear of incuring a foul mood, you merely have to wrap your arms around his back and he feels the tension unlatching its jaw from his shoulders.

“Just talk to Jin.”

“Don’t even mention his name,” he growls, trying to sound pissed but his body has a mind of its own. It reaches to tug you closer around him, almost frightened that should he let you go for just a second, he could lose you.

“He came forward with how he felt,” you reason slowly, cautiously. “He was honest and just let it all out.”

“He should have choked with it,” Jungkook refutes. You don’t buy it.

“You don’t mean that.”

Jungkook knows you know he knows he doesn’t mean it but for the time being he just wants to be angry.

He turns to look over his shoulder, finding you nuzzled into his spine, swaying slighty from left to right. His heart swells with all this…love he held for you. Whatever Jin held was nothing but a cheap copy, a fling, a failure of the brain.

“You’re mine, got it,” he tries to warn you but you all but laugh at the pout in his tone. “I don’t care how handsome you think Jin is, you promised me forever first. Finders keepers and all that.”

“You’re a bit delusional, you know that?” you rub your nose against his jumper, spectacularly failing at trying to supress the smirk fighting its way onto your face.

“So what?” he scoffs, turning to scrub the dishes with far more vigour than neccessary. “It makes me happy.”

But your voice of “just talk to Jin” doesn’t leave the side of his ear. Like an overzealous mosquito it buzzes around his head at all hours of the day, at all hours of the night, round and round until Jungkook swears it makes his nose bleed.

It’s well past midnight when he finally musters up the courage to press the dial button to Jin’s number. His knee refuses to sit still and behind his back he’s crossing his fingers hoping that his friend will be asleep.

He is not.

When Jin replies with a timid “hello” he is surprisingly coherent as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“_______________ told me to give you a call,” Jungkook grouses instead of a greeting and the other line of the phone grows uncomfortably quiet.

“They’re too kind,” Jin whispers and Jungkook certainly agrees on it.

He taps his leg, bites his lip, looks at you for guidance — you’re asleep on his bed, practically knocked out because Jungkook just had to…show his love for you — and none of it helps him to get over this sudden knot growing at the base of his throat.

However, Jin beats it to him.

“I know I said it already,” he mutters miserably, voice crackingi across the connection. “But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry for doing this to you Jungkook. I wish nothing but happiness for you and _______________.”

They cry, they curse, they share their love for you and some three hours later it’s somewhat easier to breathe. The days, the weeks that Jungkook couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares of his light being stolen away, are wiped away with a cool hand and he rejoices in the comfort it provides. He doesn’t say I love you to Jin, he’s not yet ready for that but he knows Jin knows and he knows that Jin knows that he knows.

For now he just wants to sleep. Putting the phone away, Jungkook drops himself back into the pillow,  heaving a drawn-out sigh up against the black ceiling. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your neck “good night” as he always does. It’ll be alright, he reminds himself, surprisingly, it’ll all be just fine.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @sukunabitch; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi; @back2bluesidex; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett; @royallyjjk

 © soraviie, 2023

[soraviie]

today in history: soraviiie has a terrible, awful, no good idea

#hey kids do you like crying #:)

[soraviie]

another member is in love with you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader   ━ masterlist

━ about: angst, a few hurt/comfort elements; this somehow wound up being about the bond between boys as much as the x reader part

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━  c/w: depiction of throwing up in Jimin’s part

NAMJOON | “Since when did you switch to another movie?”

Though the haze with which he’d come home with had not disappeared entirely, it did lessen. However, with this sentence being the first and only thing he’d spoken to you the entire day…well, you couldn’t help but be just a tad ornery.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” you jeer. “We do hope you enjoy your stay here.”

But something is undeniably wrong and it’s not the silence or the faraway gleam of his expression that gives it away but rather the absolute lack of reaction. His hand still monotonously brushes up against your leg that sits perched up in his lap but he’s simply not here.

“Joon,” you call out, a stern new tone lilting your voice. It stirs him enough to break whatever trance he self-imposed and lifting his head, Namjoon blearily blinks up like one would after a long nap.

“What’s with you?”

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

Sitting half-turned on the sofa with a distinct wrinkle of an oncoming frown, he awaits your answer. One you don’t know.

“Yoongi?” you parrot, all of a sudden being the confused one. “What…what does Yoongi have to do with anything?”

“Like are you two close?”

A beat of silence drags on as you stare at each other. It is frustrating being asked something you did not understand and yet even more so looking into Namjoon’s eyes and having no idea what is it that’s sitting behind them.

“Uh…not really?” at last you cautiously reply. “He texts me something funny every now and then but that’s it.”

“What kind of ‘something funny’?”

The room tumbles into another bout of silence. Slowly you tuck your legs away and though his fingers clutch repeatedly around the emptied air as if the sudden domestic absence has hurt him, the tone of his voice is just too damn imperial for you to care.

“Memes, cat videos,” unwittingly, a part of you — not so agreeable part — breaks free and arching an equally damning eyebrow, you goad him on: “Why? You want to have a look?”

He thinks of it, he genuinely weighs it over, you could see it in the way his pupils dart to the side, half-calculating, half-ashamed of the possibility. By the time that he wistfully utters: “no, there’s no need” it is too late. The tranquil peace of a quiet evening has thoroughly evaporated — what lingers in the air now is terse and partly hidden.

You may not know Yoongi but Namjoon knows Yoongi and he knows that there is something soft that quirks his lips at the mere mention of your name. That the way his gaze follows you around is just a touch too tender. Safe to say, it all goes unspoken — it is Yoongi after all — and Namjoon doesn’t know whether it’s for the better or worse. There is a certain kind of cathartic appeal to just shouting things aloud, consequences be damned, but as it stands, for now at least, everything is quiet and nothing is resolved.

Still, Yoongi doesn’t bother you — shouldn’t that be enough? He has the freedom to feel how he feels, just not the right to act upon it. And the fact is that it wasn’t Yoongi per se that was ruining his relationship right now; Namjoon was doing it quite well all by himself.

Peeking at you from the corner of the eye, he finds you sitting blue. Blue as in bathed in the blue light of the working TV although you do appear quite sad — all shrunken away into the corner, staring at the screen but not seeing anything.

You’ve had a fight.

He just started a fight.

Drawing a curt sigh, Namjoon inches himself a bit closer, acutely monitoring every last bit of you, down to the microexpressions. The slightly stretched out bottom lip, the tightly wound arms around your stomach, just the slight, almost imperceptible crease in between your eyebrows — yes, most certainly, you’ve just had a fight.

Still despite Namjoon moving ever so closer, slyly crawling back into your good graces both metaphorically and physically, you don’t make a move to deny him or cuss him out. In fact, you don’t make any move and once again he doesn’t know if that’s for the better or worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s earnest — you both know it is. You may not know that he’s saying sorry for more than just this but that too is earnest. “I don’t want us to fight.”

“Then don’t start no fights,” spitefully, you bite back but if your non-reaction was anything to go by as Namjoon places a palm on your knee, he will be forgiven.

YOONGI | Well, I should count my blessings it wasn’t Jungkook. Chiefly, that’s the first thought that pops into his head when on a random Tuesday in the most random of practice rooms, he sees the contact picture saved as Jimin’s phone lights up. Yoongi knows that picture, he took that picture. Which of course prompts the question how did Jimin get his hands on it because last time anyone checked you were Yoongi’s partner and not anyone else’s.

Sliding to unlock the call, he’s hoping like never before that it won’t about to change.

“Yes?”

“Yoongi?” instantly, you wonder. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know. Why do you—” fuck, his voice cracked. “Why do you want him? I mean, talk to him?”

“I don’t even know myself, dude,” loudly, you complain. “He called me some time ago, saying there’s something uber important to talk about and now I can’t get a hold of him anymore.”

Just then when Yoongi’s heart is about to free fall right to the bottom of his stomach, the doors to this very random practice room open and because life has a cruel and twisted sense of irony, it’s Jimin who steps through. Lately, he’s been looking haggard and it had been an unspoken agreement between the boys that his problems laid with album production but now, in one hand holding the love of his life and in the other what probably was his brother’s heart yearning for one he couldn’t have, Yoongi wonders whether it’s you whose keeping Jimin up at night with guilt. You and the smiling picture he definitely shouldn't have.

For a moment they simply stare at each other, without speaking a word. Like a clash of two worlds, the collective breath has been knocked out of the room and not even the clock pinned to the wall can cut through the sheer volume of silence.

At last, Yoongi gathers himself and stretching out the phone, he makes sure that his tone is nothing but utterly monotone.

“It’s ______________.”

Jimin grows deathly pale. His widened eyes jump from the phone in Yoongi's hands to Yoongi himself and like a deer in headlights, he keeps standing still. If his dry lips part to mutter something, no sound leaves him. The only thing he can muster is an awkward incline to indicate some kind of bow. Yoongi cards him back the phone, pretending he can’t hear your voice repeatedly questioning “hello?” on the other line and quickly steps out of the room.

It takes him three more hours than usual to get home. By that time you’re soundly asleep, clutching at the shirt Yoongi had so carelessly discarded on the bed this very morning. He quite earnestly wishes to go back to that moment, call in sick and not let either of you move out of the bed.

Despite him most definitely not wanting to, the smile creeping on his face is by now an instinctual. You could make him beam like a spring sunshine by just waking up. He loves you he knows that. He loves Jimin and Jimin as it turns out loves you. The question is of course — do you love Jimin as well?

Maybe he could…share?

“No, no,” Yoongi shakes his head, muttering to himself in the pale yellow light of the nightlamp. “What the fuck am I even thinking?”

How would that work? He gets you from Monday to Thursday only to then card you over to Jimin for the remaining week?

Glimpsing at you slumbering, half-nestled underneath the duvet, he can’t help but shudder. If you would ever learn what he just thought, it wouldn’t matter whether you love Jimin or not, because sure as hell Yoongi wouldn’t be alive to learn that fact.

Safe to say, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

As Yoongi tiredly observes you getting ready, there is an aggravating, oozing cut on his heart and every single action of yours pokes a big salted thumb right in its middle. Did you made your hair with the same level of precision when you went on a date with him? Did you dig through numerous outfits as desperately for him, trying, no, feeling the need to look good?

By the time, you’re done, he’s sitting on the bed, bleeding dry. Still, there are some things to consider — you were getting ready in his bedroom, it was his shirt you were pulling over your head and it was his initials hanging on a dainty chain down your neck.

… as it turns out, a drunken second date could lead to many things, be it a custom jewelry or a tattoo of someone’s name on their back or…left butt cheek, to be more precise.

You had a history together and he could only hope that it meant something to you.

“I’m going to meet up with—”

“Jimin after work.”

You swerve to gander at him, frowning as you do so but Yoongi doesn’t explain how he knows you will. Only wishes a succinct “don’t be out too late” and lets you out of his grasp.

It wasn’t like him to chain anyone down and you wouldn’t love him if he did. This is one of those things he just has to trust you with and maybe in time, he’ll learn to trust Jimin again.

True to your promise, when the clock strikes six you’re not at home like you usually would be. At first seven passes, then eight, then nine. Yoongi still gives you the benefit of the doubt. But when the clock starts crawling half past eleven, his knee cannot stop bouncing and his mouth cannot stop gnawing on his own nails. However, just when he no longer can stand the veritable avalanche of anxiety bucking him under, you drag yourself through the door. All complaints and accusations swiftly evaporate from the tip of his tongue as Yoongi takes in just how dead you appear. Your expression is permanently frozen in a state of hurt confusion so much so that when Yoongi slides the jacket over your shoulders, you don’t seem to notice his presence.

It’s only around one in the morning, when staring at a steaming mug of warm tea, you dare to whisper the revelation Yoongi already knows.

“Jimin said he’s in love with me.”

“I know.”

He cringes as the hurt in your eyes now finds him. Sweet heaven, how could Jimin ever do this.

“You knew?” incredulously, you question. “You knew and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“It was not my secret to tell,” firmly, he replies. “And you know that.”

“But you don’t know how he looked!” you continue, steadily working yourself up to an angered hiss. “He said he loves me and hates himself for it. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt you. You know he thinks of you like a brother.”

Dragging a tired palm over his face, Yoongi whispers that he does know that.

“Anyway, Jimin told me that he has no intention of butting in our relationship,” you conclude numbly and while Yoongi is happy to hear it, the same delight is overshadowed by worry. Was Jimin drinking? Was he somewhere unsafe in Seoul right now?

Seemingly being able to read his mind, you answer before the question is even poised.

“I made sure Jungkook picks him up and looks after him,” you sigh, pushing the mug away. It was completely full. “He wanted to apologize to you for doing this.”

“Via you?”

You sigh once more and somehow it’s even heavier.

“I don’t think that he can bear to look at you right now.”

Yoongi’s gaze darts to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, it lays there dull and lifeless up until you reach to gently wrap a hand around his palm.

“We’ll be okay,” you reassure him with a smile far too meagre to be convincing. “All of us will be okay. In time.”

It takes approximately a week for Yoongi to run into Jimin. They cross each other's paths in a hallway next to the exit doors. What sparse conversation they share is gone as soon as it starts. Yoongi takes in the exhausted, heartbroken look that seems to devour Jimin whole and all he manages to wrangle out is an understanding “I’m sorry” spoken at a distance.

Jimin gives him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, before putting back his headphones and stalking out into the rain soaked street with a downward gaze.

Yoongi hopes that it will be, as you said, all okay in due time.

SEOKJIN | Hoseok’s entry level of amusement had always been on the floor. Thus seeing him nearly double over in a peel of roaring laughter is not by any means an unusual sight. But...

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, standing next to a positively beaming Hoseok. You were funny, Hoseok liked funny.

And he also liked you.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the tiny fact that you and Jin already have matching bands around your fingers and that you are in fact undeniably, irrevocably the love of his life.

So…there’s that.

Though sitting back and simply observing feels somehow wrong, what else is he supposed to do? Going over there and punching Hoseok in the teeth is not only something he would not usually do but also, in Jin’s mind, it wasn’t even close to being productive — so what else is there?

And yes maybe it does irk him.

“Gosh, it looks like a painting,” you sigh contently, gazing over the rolling grass and clumps of disorganised mountains in the background.

“I know, a real masterpiece,” Hoseok agrees but his heart-shaped gaze is not found on said clumps of mountains or the tufts of white clouds rolling above. It's firmly planted on you and so it has been for quite some time.

Yes, it does irk him, knowing that his brother, practically flesh and blood in all the accounts that it mattered, would betray him but even so the last thing Jin wants is to tell you. There was no doubt about it — the knowledge would break your heart.

At first, you’d blame yourself, concocting in your mind that somehow this was solely just your doing and that should any fight occur it’d be you who’d spark it and then you’d cut ties with Hoseok completely. Whatever the case may be of his feelings, Hoseok was the first one who accepted you, who welcomed you into their midst as Jin’s partner with no suspicions or walls of guarded behaviour. He’d become your ride and die and frankly, very, very frankly, Jin was just as worried whether Hoseok would survive such sudden separation.

He can’t not care for his friend and as messy as it is, his friend’s wellbeing now partially hinged on his partner’s smile.

What a shit fest.

Jin is fairly certain Hoseok will not attempt anything. The sense of shame broiling within him is so apparent that more than once someone else had caught Jin by the elbow, wondering whether they have had a fight.

They haven’t, monotonously, he replies each and every time, but he doesn’t insist it’s all good either.

Regardless, the fact is he hasn’t spoken with Hoseok for…quite some time. His contact number has traversed from the usual "recently dialled" to possibly being outdated.

“Hey, you’re not sick, are you?” the sound of your worried voice at last rouses Jin from the literal plague of thoughts buzzing around. For good measure, you put your palm on his forehead, trying to gauge the temperature.

Jin wrangles it away, for a moment considering whether to kiss it. Hoseok is looking.

He chooses to hold your hand instead, his finger lingering on the promise ring.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“You’ve just been really quiet ever since we got here.”

“I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of struggles you have to go through.”

Your brow wrinkles and you gaze down on Jin whose been slowly or not so slowly sipping his whiskey by the fire pit.

“Struggles?” you echoe confused and Jin gives a sage nod.

“I’m already so beautiful every single moment but out here — in our forest get together… I can’t even imagine how you cope. I must be absolutely enthralling.”

There’s a solid minute of absolute silence before you enrupt in fond laughter.

“Don’t ever change, Jin.”

He tries to mimic your grin but it falls a touch too flat so instead his eye travels towards the onlooking Hoseok. Both hold each other’s stare before quickly turning away.

“I definitely won’t,” absent-mindedly, Jin mumbles under the nose.

HOSEOK | It just had to be Namjoon.

“Well, at least it’s not Jungkook,” Namjoon breathes a demure laugh.

If Hoseok had any heart to pummel him through the ground, he would.

“Motherfucker, really?!”

“I’m sorry.”

It truly was a curse to see someone as human. Because no matter how mad Hoseok was at Namjoon, he could not rid himself of a kid's image in this man. A kid who always was beside him. A kid with all the big dreams and all the wrong approaches to those dreams. Still, Namjoon had a kind heart and there was no one more dedicated to fixing their wrongs than him. Hoseok presumes it was this same dedication that had brought his best friend to his doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a great big apology tumbling like vomit out of his mouth.

“They just called me to help arrange your birthday present. I promise it wasn’t any more than that.”

For what seems like the hundredth time, Namjoon rushes to explain, wearing not to subtle glimmer of delirium in his eye.

“We met up for a coffee,” Hoseok’s eyebrow twitches and though he could have sworn it was impossible, Namjoon grows a touch paler from fear. “And we only discussed you and I left the second I could!”

“So my partner called up my best friend whose actually in love with them to discuss the plans for my birthday. Me, their partner who knows that his best friend is in love with said partner.”

All Namjoon can really do is apologetically rub the back of his neck all while trying (and failing) to inconscpicously inch closer towards the doors.

“It’s messed up, I know.”

“It’s more than a little messed up, Joon,” Hoseok laughs dryly, already sensing the tepid touch of an oncoming migraine. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Immediately, Namjoon shakes his head, the glasses perched on the top of his nose threatening to simply hurtle against the wall.

“We agreed to not tell them. I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

And Hoseok does hate himself for it but he’s always wondered so why not ask while the opportunity is still fresh —

“Why did you agree?” he prods with what to him appears as a cautious hand. “You could have just told how you feel—”

But Namjoon is quick to interrupt.

“I don’t want to,” he states with no small amount of firmness. It’s the sort of resolution Hoseok has seen him wield in front of the UN, in front of difficulties he could not even comprehend. Something steel-like rests behind his gaze and Hoseok knows that whatever sort of intention Namjoon has set on you, no force of nature can lead him astray.

“I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.”

“_____________ wouldn’t look at you with—”

“Yes, they would,” Namjoon interrupts him again, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “I wouldn’t be Namjoon the leader, Namjoon the trustworthy member, Namjoon, your,” he stammers; it’s almost imperceptible alas Hoseok just knows him too well. “Your brother but I’d be small Namjoon. I’d be Namjoon the naive fool who would require kid gloves in case any remark about the happiness of your relationship would break his heart. And I don’t want that.”

Ah.

“I want ________________,” they both know it’s a poor choice of wording but none of them is brave enough to remark upon it. “In a natural way, you know. I want to be their friend, I don’t want to make things any more complicated. So, yeah, I don’t want to tell them and perhaps,” he licks at his dry lips, briefly glimpsing outside. Unbeknowst to himself Hoseok mimicks the movement, forcing the barest sliver of a smile upon Namjoon’s face. “Nah, it is selfish but it is what it is.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they stand silent and it’s painfully awkward but also…it’s good. It’s almost unbelievable but things are actually peaceful between them.

“What does ____________ has planned for my birthday?”

Namjoon cracks a wry smile.

“I ain’t telling you that.”

The ring of Hoseok’s phone cuts the lingering tension in two and like an air escaping from a pop balloon, the room grows lax.

If a bit sad.

“Hey babe,” Hoseok greets you and Namjoon simply pretends like he isn’t here to hear that. “You’re waiting outside? Yeah, I’ll get going soon. Bye. Love you too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Namjoon turns away, obstinately staring at anything just to not see what currently he does not want to see. Hoseok simply lets him be.

“I’ve got to go,” he waves around some well-meaning gesture that falls flat on comfort, already halfway there to bolt out of the door. “Will you be okay?”

He watches Namjoon scuff the shoe against the floor. It’s a tad too angry for someone who will undoubtedly insist on being utterly okay.

“Yeah, of course!” Namjoon brushes him off, feigning indifference a bit too well. “I’ll just, you know, go into my studio and write some lyrics to process my bottomless devotion to the love of your life.”

Kidding! — follows soon after.

“Sort of,” is added when Hoseok ultimately leaves the room.

JIMIN | “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Jimin…”

“Don’t you dare to pity me!”

“I’m not. Actually, quite the opposite.”

Jimin glowers at Yoongi across the rim of his glass but it doesn’t quite have the effect he pictured. Yoongi keeps on wearing the same unimpressed grimace he’d sat down with. He draws a great sigh for the upteenth time and begins again, a bit gentler, a bit more lenient.

Jimin doesn’t know which is worse — either way, he’s a hair away from bursting into tears.

“I didn’t expect you, out of all people, to think with your fists instead of your brain.”

And just like that, the tears evaporate.

“He tried to take them away,” he whispers, voice shaking from the barely concealed rage. Not even at Jungkook’s feelings per se but rather at his sheer audacity. Jimin would understand if he would just fall in love with you, he would understand, he knows how easy it was to love you, to be consumed by you but to go—!

“He went behind my back!” he cries out loudly, instantly drawing the attention to their small table. “He went and asked to be given a chance!”

The frown on Yoongi’s face deepens and seeing such an opening Jimin reaches out and does what he knows best. He pours himself a drink, knocks it down into his throat and hopes he’ll pass out soon.

Yoongi bats at his arm, steadily growing redder and redder from the frustration alone.

“Stop drinking!” he chides with an irritated hiss. “I’m not excusing Jungkook’s actions. But you know how he is.”

“And thus I’m supposed to forgive him for trying to fuck my fucking partner?!”

Once again, all eyes sit on their table as Jimin’s voice rises into an angered scream.

“Yeah, and look at you now. You’ve traded fists with your best friend, gotten yourself a busted lip and _______________ has moved out and honestly good for them. I also wouldn’t want to stand you clowns.”

“You’re supposed to be comforting me,” Jimin scoffs but receives nothing but an ill-meaning glare back.

“I’m all out.”

When at long last Jimin gets home, it’s well past three in the morning. His head is spinning and not so small part of him regrets ever drinking. The alcohol is clawing back up his throat and it doesn’t care that he’s putting a palm in front of his mouth. He’s about to vomit it all back out.

“Jesus,” a blur of a voice calls above him and Jimin finds himself being hastily carded to the toilet. He wonders who it is — it couldn't be you, you wouldn’t be able to lug him around like a roll of wet paper towels but he simply doesn’t have the time to care about it. As the next thing that comes out of his mouth is not a question poised, eloquenty or not, but a steady stream of stomach acid and half-digested fragments of his piss-poor dinner. His faceless saviour brushes the hair back from his forehead, occasionally laying an empathetic pat on his back. Though his mouth of full of bile, Jimin tries to say he appreciates it.

The sun greets him vicious and unforgiving. His head pounds and for the longest part of an hour, Jimin doesn’t even recall on how he made it back into his bed. Spotting a full glass of water and painkillers, he both chugs it all down and prays to heaven that it is you. Someone’s definitely clambering around his kitchen. The noise of a pan on a stove is unmistakanable regardless of the state he’s in.

Cautiously, Jimin pads over to the kitchen, attempting to put together at least two phrases of a genuine apology but the sight he sees only further spikes the nausea gripping him whole.

Unless you suddenly grew a mullet, got an armful of tattoos, a lip piercing and a cosmetic surgery, he’s fairly sure that it isn’t you standing by a stove and cooking a pan of eggs but one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook the traitor.

Jeon Jungkook the one Jimin thought was a friend.

Best friend in fact.

In spite of how hard Jimin tries to eviscerate Jungkook with his glare, he cannot help but cringe as the man whips around, showcasing his black eye. Instinctually, Jimin runs a tongue over his lip. It still hurts.

There is a pregnant pause during which they don’t speak, merely stay in their respective corners of the room. Jungkook shifts from one foot to another, white knuckling the handle of the pan.

“I made you some eggs,” he splutters, hopefully presenting the food. Ever so slowly, Jimin lowers his gaze towards them and quirks a brow in order to show just how unfettered he is by it.

“I’ll vomit them back in your face,” he states coldly and Jungkook all but withers into himself.

“Listen, man, I know that I overstepped some boundaries—”

“Some?!” at once, Jimin has to clutch at his head to make sure it simply does not implode.

“All of the boundaries,” he corrects. "And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I betrayed your trust and __________’s trust, and I know that neither of you owe me your forgiveness.”

Jimin pries open one of his eyelids — it’s swollen and laced with sleep but even so he knows Jungkook and he knows Jungkook wasn’t capable of lying.

He truly is sorry.

“Why the change of heart?” Jimin barks mistrustfully. “Since when do you care for anything but yourself?”

It’s a low blow but damn if it does not delight him, to hurt Jungkook just as much as Jimin was hurt.

“________________,” Jungkook sighs, his nose scrunching up at what is certainly a recollection of some exceedingly sour memories. “Chewed me the fuck out. They said—” his breath hitches. In a still moment between one breath and the next, there is a single, utterly pathethic plea ringing in Jimin’s ears—

Please, dont take them away from me

“They said they were disgusted by me.”

He has to physically bite his tongue to not say “I’m sorry”. It’s just as instinctual for him to comfort Jungkook as it is for their younger one to seek that same comfort. For a brief moment, he sees a much younger Jungkook. A much younger Jungkook come to beg for understanding and Jimin himself, feels much younger. Much more ill-equipped to deal with Jungkook’s fragile heart.

But that moment disappears and with it the breadth of his anger.

It’s churning, he knows it is, he doesn’t deny it but he reckons that step by step, day by cautious day they’ll be able to calll each other friends again and greet you back home, inhabiting their rightful roles.

You would say they're a broken pot with its cracks glued by gold.

Yoongi would say they’re fucking morons.

TAEHYUNG | Dearest ____________________,

Let me preface this by saying, I know it’s inappropriate and I know it’s unfair for me to spring this on you. I must seem like a coward to you and that’s beacause I am one. Million times I must have tried to tell you, to be able to say IT to your face but I just can’t. I don’t care what you do with this letter, burn it if you must, destroy it if it brings you peace but a part of me reasons that people deserve to know when one loves them and so I tell you.

I love you.

I love you insanely. I love you devoutly but most of all I want to love you selflessly so I won’t ask of you anything don’t worry. I won’t ask of you to meet me, I won’t ask of you to let me down, gently or otherwise, I won’t ask of you to even look at me. I burn for you, I yearn for you but I also know you love Taehyung. I see your love for him as clear as I see my own so I understand I don’t have a place in your life. I don’t even dare to ask of you such a thing.

You may wonder why even write this at all? Well, for me this is a speech. A speech one would give at a funeral. I scream and I vomit all that I feel and with it, with every stroke of this stupid pen I hammer in a nail into a coffin of all the fondness I hold for you. With any luck, I’ll be able to return to it rarer and rarer until at last it’s swallowed by moss and will lay unrecognizable. With any luck, the scar will heal and will be just that — a painless scar left by idiocy of youth.

I don’t want you to find me, I don’t want you to know me, all I want is for you and Taehyung to be happy. Oh, Taehyung, if only I could also say how sorry I am for ever letting him down.

So please be happy _______________. Be the happiest a person has ever been so I can rest easy and breathe a little easier each day, knowing that none of us has made a grave mistake.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer.

Quite the letter, Taehyung reckons, closing it shut once he finishes tracing the inked lines. The thick black of the room is cut only by the orange flames licking at the firewood in the old fireplace. Glancing quietly across the shoulder, he finds you sleeping soundly on the hotel bed, hair splattered messily across the pillowcase. Taehyung supresses a deep sigh of relief before turning back with a heavy frown etched upon his face.

He took you away just in time, whoever this secret admirer was, he clearly held something more than a casual crush. When did he have the time to slip this into your bag, Taehyung did not know but it scared the shit out of him. The only people who both knew of his sudden trip to France and had the opportunity to see you were his members. His friends. His brothers. Which meant that one of them betrayed him. For one of them your name on their lips was not something easy to be spoken. For one of them your name was a benediction, meant to be sighed in shameful isolation.

The poetics said Namjoon but don’t find me said Yoongi. Loving insanely was Jungkook wanting to love selflessly was Jimin. But who could possibly know — maybe it was Hoseok, maybe it was Jin — Taehyung certainly didn’t.

He gazed down onto the thin paper, lips curling in distaste. Whoever he was, he should have just kept it to himself. For the first time, Taehyung was happy in his relationship, secure even and here he comes, one of his family, tearing it down.

Perhaps he should do what this admirer said — forget about it. No one wants to hate their family, right?

Yes, he thinks to himself, I’ll forget about. I’ll try really, really hard.

It was a good letter, beautiful even, he has to admit that much.

Shame though, he doesn’t hesitate to toss it into the flames, ______________won’t ever read it.

JUNGKOOK | “Baby, please.”

Jungkook loathes the fact at how weak he grows underneath your touch. Where others would give him a wide berth, all in fear of incuring a foul mood, you merely have to wrap your arms around his back and he feels the tension unlatching its jaw from his shoulders.

“Just talk to Jin.”

“Don’t even mention his name,” he growls, trying to sound pissed but his body has a mind of its own. It reaches to tug you closer around him, almost frightened that should he let you go for just a second, he could lose you.

“He came forward with how he felt,” you reason slowly, cautiously. “He was honest and just let it all out.”

“He should have choked with it,” Jungkook refutes. You don’t buy it.

“You don’t mean that.”

Jungkook knows you know he knows he doesn’t mean it but for the time being he just wants to be angry.

He turns to look over his shoulder, finding you nuzzled into his spine, swaying slighty from left to right. His heart swells with all this…love he held for you. Whatever Jin held was nothing but a cheap copy, a fling, a failure of the brain.

“You’re mine, got it,” he tries to warn you but you all but laugh at the pout in his tone. “I don’t care how handsome you think Jin is, you promised me forever first. Finders keepers and all that.”

“You’re a bit delusional, you know that?” you rub your nose against his jumper, spectacularly failing at trying to supress the smirk fighting its way onto your face.

“So what?” he scoffs, turning to scrub the dishes with far more vigour than neccessary. “It makes me happy.”

But your voice of “just talk to Jin” doesn’t leave the side of his ear. Like an overzealous mosquito it buzzes around his head at all hours of the day, at all hours of the night, round and round until Jungkook swears it makes his nose bleed.

It’s well past midnight when he finally musters up the courage to press the dial button to Jin’s number. His knee refuses to sit still and behind his back he’s crossing his fingers hoping that his friend will be asleep.

He is not.

When Jin replies with a timid “hello” he is surprisingly coherent as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“_______________ told me to give you a call,” Jungkook grouses instead of a greeting and the other line of the phone grows uncomfortably quiet.

“They’re too kind,” Jin whispers and Jungkook certainly agrees on it.

He taps his leg, bites his lip, looks at you for guidance — you’re asleep on his bed, practically knocked out because Jungkook just had to…show his love for you — and none of it helps him to get over this sudden knot growing at the base of his throat.

However, Jin beats it to him.

“I know I said it already,” he mutters miserably, voice crackingi across the connection. “But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry for doing this to you Jungkook. I wish nothing but happiness for you and _______________.”

They cry, they curse, they share their love for you and some three hours later it’s somewhat easier to breathe. The days, the weeks that Jungkook couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares of his light being stolen away, are wiped away with a cool hand and he rejoices in the comfort it provides. He doesn’t say I love you to Jin, he’s not yet ready for that but he knows Jin knows and he knows that Jin knows that he knows.

For now he just wants to sleep. Putting the phone away, Jungkook drops himself back into the pillow,  heaving a drawn-out sigh up against the black ceiling. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your neck “good night” as he always does. It’ll be alright, he reminds himself, surprisingly, it’ll all be just fine.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @sukunabitch; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi; @back2bluesidex; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett; @royallyjjk

 © soraviie, 2023

[soraviie]

another member is in love with you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader   ━ masterlist

━ about: angst, a few hurt/comfort elements; this somehow wound up being about the bond between boys as much as the x reader part

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━  c/w: depiction of throwing up in Jimin’s part

NAMJOON | “Since when did you switch to another movie?”

Though the haze with which he’d come home with had not disappeared entirely, it did lessen. However, with this sentence being the first and only thing he’d spoken to you the entire day…well, you couldn’t help but be just a tad ornery.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” you jeer. “We do hope you enjoy your stay here.”

But something is undeniably wrong and it’s not the silence or the faraway gleam of his expression that gives it away but rather the absolute lack of reaction. His hand still monotonously brushes up against your leg that sits perched up in his lap but he’s simply not here.

“Joon,” you call out, a stern new tone lilting your voice. It stirs him enough to break whatever trance he self-imposed and lifting his head, Namjoon blearily blinks up like one would after a long nap.

“What’s with you?”

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

Sitting half-turned on the sofa with a distinct wrinkle of an oncoming frown, he awaits your answer. One you don’t know.

“Yoongi?” you parrot, all of a sudden being the confused one. “What…what does Yoongi have to do with anything?”

“Like are you two close?”

A beat of silence drags on as you stare at each other. It is frustrating being asked something you did not understand and yet even more so looking into Namjoon’s eyes and having no idea what is it that’s sitting behind them.

“Uh…not really?” at last you cautiously reply. “He texts me something funny every now and then but that’s it.”

“What kind of ‘something funny’?”

The room tumbles into another bout of silence. Slowly you tuck your legs away and though his fingers clutch repeatedly around the emptied air as if the sudden domestic absence has hurt him, the tone of his voice is just too damn imperial for you to care.

“Memes, cat videos,” unwittingly, a part of you — not so agreeable part — breaks free and arching an equally damning eyebrow, you goad him on: “Why? You want to have a look?”

He thinks of it, he genuinely weighs it over, you could see it in the way his pupils dart to the side, half-calculating, half-ashamed of the possibility. By the time that he wistfully utters: “no, there’s no need” it is too late. The tranquil peace of a quiet evening has thoroughly evaporated — what lingers in the air now is terse and partly hidden.

You may not know Yoongi but Namjoon knows Yoongi and he knows that there is something soft that quirks his lips at the mere mention of your name. That the way his gaze follows you around is just a touch too tender. Safe to say, it all goes unspoken — it is Yoongi after all — and Namjoon doesn’t know whether it’s for the better or worse. There is a certain kind of cathartic appeal to just shouting things aloud, consequences be damned, but as it stands, for now at least, everything is quiet and nothing is resolved.

Still, Yoongi doesn’t bother you — shouldn’t that be enough? He has the freedom to feel how he feels, just not the right to act upon it. And the fact is that it wasn’t Yoongi per se that was ruining his relationship right now; Namjoon was doing it quite well all by himself.

Peeking at you from the corner of the eye, he finds you sitting blue. Blue as in bathed in the blue light of the working TV although you do appear quite sad — all shrunken away into the corner, staring at the screen but not seeing anything.

You’ve had a fight.

He just started a fight.

Drawing a curt sigh, Namjoon inches himself a bit closer, acutely monitoring every last bit of you, down to the microexpressions. The slightly stretched out bottom lip, the tightly wound arms around your stomach, just the slight, almost imperceptible crease in between your eyebrows — yes, most certainly, you’ve just had a fight.

Still despite Namjoon moving ever so closer, slyly crawling back into your good graces both metaphorically and physically, you don’t make a move to deny him or cuss him out. In fact, you don’t make any move and once again he doesn’t know if that’s for the better or worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s earnest — you both know it is. You may not know that he’s saying sorry for more than just this but that too is earnest. “I don’t want us to fight.”

“Then don’t start no fights,” spitefully, you bite back but if your non-reaction was anything to go by as Namjoon places a palm on your knee, he will be forgiven.

YOONGI | Well, I should count my blessings it wasn’t Jungkook. Chiefly, that’s the first thought that pops into his head when on a random Tuesday in the most random of practice rooms, he sees the contact picture saved as Jimin’s phone lights up. Yoongi knows that picture, he took that picture. Which of course prompts the question how did Jimin get his hands on it because last time anyone checked you were Yoongi’s partner and not anyone else’s.

Sliding to unlock the call, he’s hoping like never before that it won’t about to change.

“Yes?”

“Yoongi?” instantly, you wonder. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know. Why do you—” fuck, his voice cracked. “Why do you want him? I mean, talk to him?”

“I don’t even know myself, dude,” loudly, you complain. “He called me some time ago, saying there’s something uber important to talk about and now I can’t get a hold of him anymore.”

Just then when Yoongi’s heart is about to free fall right to the bottom of his stomach, the doors to this very random practice room open and because life has a cruel and twisted sense of irony, it’s Jimin who steps through. Lately, he’s been looking haggard and it had been an unspoken agreement between the boys that his problems laid with album production but now, in one hand holding the love of his life and in the other what probably was his brother’s heart yearning for one he couldn’t have, Yoongi wonders whether it’s you whose keeping Jimin up at night with guilt. You and the smiling picture he definitely shouldn't have.

For a moment they simply stare at each other, without speaking a word. Like a clash of two worlds, the collective breath has been knocked out of the room and not even the clock pinned to the wall can cut through the sheer volume of silence.

At last, Yoongi gathers himself and stretching out the phone, he makes sure that his tone is nothing but utterly monotone.

“It’s ______________.”

Jimin grows deathly pale. His widened eyes jump from the phone in Yoongi's hands to Yoongi himself and like a deer in headlights, he keeps standing still. If his dry lips part to mutter something, no sound leaves him. The only thing he can muster is an awkward incline to indicate some kind of bow. Yoongi cards him back the phone, pretending he can’t hear your voice repeatedly questioning “hello?” on the other line and quickly steps out of the room.

It takes him three more hours than usual to get home. By that time you’re soundly asleep, clutching at the shirt Yoongi had so carelessly discarded on the bed this very morning. He quite earnestly wishes to go back to that moment, call in sick and not let either of you move out of the bed.

Despite him most definitely not wanting to, the smile creeping on his face is by now an instinctual. You could make him beam like a spring sunshine by just waking up. He loves you he knows that. He loves Jimin and Jimin as it turns out loves you. The question is of course — do you love Jimin as well?

Maybe he could…share?

“No, no,” Yoongi shakes his head, muttering to himself in the pale yellow light of the nightlamp. “What the fuck am I even thinking?”

How would that work? He gets you from Monday to Thursday only to then card you over to Jimin for the remaining week?

Glimpsing at you slumbering, half-nestled underneath the duvet, he can’t help but shudder. If you would ever learn what he just thought, it wouldn’t matter whether you love Jimin or not, because sure as hell Yoongi wouldn’t be alive to learn that fact.

Safe to say, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

As Yoongi tiredly observes you getting ready, there is an aggravating, oozing cut on his heart and every single action of yours pokes a big salted thumb right in its middle. Did you made your hair with the same level of precision when you went on a date with him? Did you dig through numerous outfits as desperately for him, trying, no, feeling the need to look good?

By the time, you’re done, he’s sitting on the bed, bleeding dry. Still, there are some things to consider — you were getting ready in his bedroom, it was his shirt you were pulling over your head and it was his initials hanging on a dainty chain down your neck.

… as it turns out, a drunken second date could lead to many things, be it a custom jewelry or a tattoo of someone’s name on their back or…left butt cheek, to be more precise.

You had a history together and he could only hope that it meant something to you.

“I’m going to meet up with—”

“Jimin after work.”

You swerve to gander at him, frowning as you do so but Yoongi doesn’t explain how he knows you will. Only wishes a succinct “don’t be out too late” and lets you out of his grasp.

It wasn’t like him to chain anyone down and you wouldn’t love him if he did. This is one of those things he just has to trust you with and maybe in time, he’ll learn to trust Jimin again.

True to your promise, when the clock strikes six you’re not at home like you usually would be. At first seven passes, then eight, then nine. Yoongi still gives you the benefit of the doubt. But when the clock starts crawling half past eleven, his knee cannot stop bouncing and his mouth cannot stop gnawing on his own nails. However, just when he no longer can stand the veritable avalanche of anxiety bucking him under, you drag yourself through the door. All complaints and accusations swiftly evaporate from the tip of his tongue as Yoongi takes in just how dead you appear. Your expression is permanently frozen in a state of hurt confusion so much so that when Yoongi slides the jacket over your shoulders, you don’t seem to notice his presence.

It’s only around one in the morning, when staring at a steaming mug of warm tea, you dare to whisper the revelation Yoongi already knows.

“Jimin said he’s in love with me.”

“I know.”

He cringes as the hurt in your eyes now finds him. Sweet heaven, how could Jimin ever do this.

“You knew?” incredulously, you question. “You knew and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“It was not my secret to tell,” firmly, he replies. “And you know that.”

“But you don’t know how he looked!” you continue, steadily working yourself up to an angered hiss. “He said he loves me and hates himself for it. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt you. You know he thinks of you like a brother.”

Dragging a tired palm over his face, Yoongi whispers that he does know that.

“Anyway, Jimin told me that he has no intention of butting in our relationship,” you conclude numbly and while Yoongi is happy to hear it, the same delight is overshadowed by worry. Was Jimin drinking? Was he somewhere unsafe in Seoul right now?

Seemingly being able to read his mind, you answer before the question is even poised.

“I made sure Jungkook picks him up and looks after him,” you sigh, pushing the mug away. It was completely full. “He wanted to apologize to you for doing this.”

“Via you?”

You sigh once more and somehow it’s even heavier.

“I don’t think that he can bear to look at you right now.”

Yoongi’s gaze darts to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, it lays there dull and lifeless up until you reach to gently wrap a hand around his palm.

“We’ll be okay,” you reassure him with a smile far too meagre to be convincing. “All of us will be okay. In time.”

It takes approximately a week for Yoongi to run into Jimin. They cross each other's paths in a hallway next to the exit doors. What sparse conversation they share is gone as soon as it starts. Yoongi takes in the exhausted, heartbroken look that seems to devour Jimin whole and all he manages to wrangle out is an understanding “I’m sorry” spoken at a distance.

Jimin gives him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, before putting back his headphones and stalking out into the rain soaked street with a downward gaze.

Yoongi hopes that it will be, as you said, all okay in due time.

SEOKJIN | Hoseok’s entry level of amusement had always been on the floor. Thus seeing him nearly double over in a peel of roaring laughter is not by any means an unusual sight. But...

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, standing next to a positively beaming Hoseok. You were funny, Hoseok liked funny.

And he also liked you.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the tiny fact that you and Jin already have matching bands around your fingers and that you are in fact undeniably, irrevocably the love of his life.

So…there’s that.

Though sitting back and simply observing feels somehow wrong, what else is he supposed to do? Going over there and punching Hoseok in the teeth is not only something he would not usually do but also, in Jin’s mind, it wasn’t even close to being productive — so what else is there?

And yes maybe it does irk him.

“Gosh, it looks like a painting,” you sigh contently, gazing over the rolling grass and clumps of disorganised mountains in the background.

“I know, a real masterpiece,” Hoseok agrees but his heart-shaped gaze is not found on said clumps of mountains or the tufts of white clouds rolling above. It's firmly planted on you and so it has been for quite some time.

Yes, it does irk him, knowing that his brother, practically flesh and blood in all the accounts that it mattered, would betray him but even so the last thing Jin wants is to tell you. There was no doubt about it — the knowledge would break your heart.

At first, you’d blame yourself, concocting in your mind that somehow this was solely just your doing and that should any fight occur it’d be you who’d spark it and then you’d cut ties with Hoseok completely. Whatever the case may be of his feelings, Hoseok was the first one who accepted you, who welcomed you into their midst as Jin’s partner with no suspicions or walls of guarded behaviour. He’d become your ride and die and frankly, very, very frankly, Jin was just as worried whether Hoseok would survive such sudden separation.

He can’t not care for his friend and as messy as it is, his friend’s wellbeing now partially hinged on his partner’s smile.

What a shit fest.

Jin is fairly certain Hoseok will not attempt anything. The sense of shame broiling within him is so apparent that more than once someone else had caught Jin by the elbow, wondering whether they have had a fight.

They haven’t, monotonously, he replies each and every time, but he doesn’t insist it’s all good either.

Regardless, the fact is he hasn’t spoken with Hoseok for…quite some time. His contact number has traversed from the usual "recently dialled" to possibly being outdated.

“Hey, you’re not sick, are you?” the sound of your worried voice at last rouses Jin from the literal plague of thoughts buzzing around. For good measure, you put your palm on his forehead, trying to gauge the temperature.

Jin wrangles it away, for a moment considering whether to kiss it. Hoseok is looking.

He chooses to hold your hand instead, his finger lingering on the promise ring.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“You’ve just been really quiet ever since we got here.”

“I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of struggles you have to go through.”

Your brow wrinkles and you gaze down on Jin whose been slowly or not so slowly sipping his whiskey by the fire pit.

“Struggles?” you echoe confused and Jin gives a sage nod.

“I’m already so beautiful every single moment but out here — in our forest get together… I can’t even imagine how you cope. I must be absolutely enthralling.”

There’s a solid minute of absolute silence before you enrupt in fond laughter.

“Don’t ever change, Jin.”

He tries to mimic your grin but it falls a touch too flat so instead his eye travels towards the onlooking Hoseok. Both hold each other’s stare before quickly turning away.

“I definitely won’t,” absent-mindedly, Jin mumbles under the nose.

HOSEOK | It just had to be Namjoon.

“Well, at least it’s not Jungkook,” Namjoon breathes a demure laugh.

If Hoseok had any heart to pummel him through the ground, he would.

“Motherfucker, really?!”

“I’m sorry.”

It truly was a curse to see someone as human. Because no matter how mad Hoseok was at Namjoon, he could not rid himself of a kid's image in this man. A kid who always was beside him. A kid with all the big dreams and all the wrong approaches to those dreams. Still, Namjoon had a kind heart and there was no one more dedicated to fixing their wrongs than him. Hoseok presumes it was this same dedication that had brought his best friend to his doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a great big apology tumbling like vomit out of his mouth.

“They just called me to help arrange your birthday present. I promise it wasn’t any more than that.”

For what seems like the hundredth time, Namjoon rushes to explain, wearing not to subtle glimmer of delirium in his eye.

“We met up for a coffee,” Hoseok’s eyebrow twitches and though he could have sworn it was impossible, Namjoon grows a touch paler from fear. “And we only discussed you and I left the second I could!”

“So my partner called up my best friend whose actually in love with them to discuss the plans for my birthday. Me, their partner who knows that his best friend is in love with said partner.”

All Namjoon can really do is apologetically rub the back of his neck all while trying (and failing) to inconscpicously inch closer towards the doors.

“It’s messed up, I know.”

“It’s more than a little messed up, Joon,” Hoseok laughs dryly, already sensing the tepid touch of an oncoming migraine. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Immediately, Namjoon shakes his head, the glasses perched on the top of his nose threatening to simply hurtle against the wall.

“We agreed to not tell them. I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

And Hoseok does hate himself for it but he’s always wondered so why not ask while the opportunity is still fresh —

“Why did you agree?” he prods with what to him appears as a cautious hand. “You could have just told how you feel—”

But Namjoon is quick to interrupt.

“I don’t want to,” he states with no small amount of firmness. It’s the sort of resolution Hoseok has seen him wield in front of the UN, in front of difficulties he could not even comprehend. Something steel-like rests behind his gaze and Hoseok knows that whatever sort of intention Namjoon has set on you, no force of nature can lead him astray.

“I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.”

“_____________ wouldn’t look at you with—”

“Yes, they would,” Namjoon interrupts him again, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “I wouldn’t be Namjoon the leader, Namjoon the trustworthy member, Namjoon, your,” he stammers; it’s almost imperceptible alas Hoseok just knows him too well. “Your brother but I’d be small Namjoon. I’d be Namjoon the naive fool who would require kid gloves in case any remark about the happiness of your relationship would break his heart. And I don’t want that.”

Ah.

“I want ________________,” they both know it’s a poor choice of wording but none of them is brave enough to remark upon it. “In a natural way, you know. I want to be their friend, I don’t want to make things any more complicated. So, yeah, I don’t want to tell them and perhaps,” he licks at his dry lips, briefly glimpsing outside. Unbeknowst to himself Hoseok mimicks the movement, forcing the barest sliver of a smile upon Namjoon’s face. “Nah, it is selfish but it is what it is.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they stand silent and it’s painfully awkward but also…it’s good. It’s almost unbelievable but things are actually peaceful between them.

“What does ____________ has planned for my birthday?”

Namjoon cracks a wry smile.

“I ain’t telling you that.”

The ring of Hoseok’s phone cuts the lingering tension in two and like an air escaping from a pop balloon, the room grows lax.

If a bit sad.

“Hey babe,” Hoseok greets you and Namjoon simply pretends like he isn’t here to hear that. “You’re waiting outside? Yeah, I’ll get going soon. Bye. Love you too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Namjoon turns away, obstinately staring at anything just to not see what currently he does not want to see. Hoseok simply lets him be.

“I’ve got to go,” he waves around some well-meaning gesture that falls flat on comfort, already halfway there to bolt out of the door. “Will you be okay?”

He watches Namjoon scuff the shoe against the floor. It’s a tad too angry for someone who will undoubtedly insist on being utterly okay.

“Yeah, of course!” Namjoon brushes him off, feigning indifference a bit too well. “I’ll just, you know, go into my studio and write some lyrics to process my bottomless devotion to the love of your life.”

Kidding! — follows soon after.

“Sort of,” is added when Hoseok ultimately leaves the room.

JIMIN | “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Jimin…”

“Don’t you dare to pity me!”

“I’m not. Actually, quite the opposite.”

Jimin glowers at Yoongi across the rim of his glass but it doesn’t quite have the effect he pictured. Yoongi keeps on wearing the same unimpressed grimace he’d sat down with. He draws a great sigh for the upteenth time and begins again, a bit gentler, a bit more lenient.

Jimin doesn’t know which is worse — either way, he’s a hair away from bursting into tears.

“I didn’t expect you, out of all people, to think with your fists instead of your brain.”

And just like that, the tears evaporate.

“He tried to take them away,” he whispers, voice shaking from the barely concealed rage. Not even at Jungkook’s feelings per se but rather at his sheer audacity. Jimin would understand if he would just fall in love with you, he would understand, he knows how easy it was to love you, to be consumed by you but to go—!

“He went behind my back!” he cries out loudly, instantly drawing the attention to their small tablee. “He went and asked to be given a chance!”

The frown on Yoongi’s face deepens and seeing such an opening Jimin reaches out and does what he knows best. He pours himself a drink, knocks it down into his throat and hopes he’ll pass out soon.

Yoongi bats at his arm, steadily growing redder and redder from the frustration alone.

“Stop drinking!” he chides with an irritated hiss. “I’m not excusing Jungkook’s actions. But you know how he is.”

“And thus I’m supposed to forgive him for trying to fuck my fucking partner?!”

Once again, all eyes sit on their table as Jimin’s voice rises into an angered scream.

“Yeah, and look at you now. You’ve traded fists with your best friend, gotten yourself a busted lip and _______________ has moved out and honestly good for them. I also wouldn’t want to stand you clowns.”

“You’re supposed to be comforting me,” Jimin scoffs but receives nothing but an ill-meaning glare back.

“I’m all out.”

When at long last Jimin gets home, it’s well past three in the morning. His head is spinning and not so small part of him regrets ever drinking. The alcohol is clawing back up his throat and it doesn’t care that he’s putting a palm in front of his mouth. He’s about to vomit it all back out.

“Jesus,” a blur of a voice calls above him and Jimin finds himself being hastily carded to the toilet. He wonders who it is — it couldn't be you, you wouldn’t be able to lug him around like a roll of wet paper towels but he simply doesn’t have the time to care about it. As the next thing that comes out of his mouth is not a question poised, eloquenty or not, but a steady stream of stomach acid and half-digested fragments of his piss-poor dinner. His faceless saviour brushes the hair back from his forehead, occasionally laying an empathetic pat on his back. Though his mouth of full of bile, Jimin tries to say he appreciates it.

The sun greets him vicious and unforgiving. His head pounds and for the longest part of an hour, Jimin doesn’t even recall on how he made it back into his bed. Spotting a full glass of water and painkillers, he both chugs it all down and prays to heaven that it is you. Someone’s definitely clambering around his kitchen. The noise of a pan on a stove is unmistakanable regardless of the state he’s in.

Cautiously, Jimin pads over to the kitchen, attempting to put together at least two phrases of a genuine apology but the sight he sees only further spikes the nausea gripping him whole.

Unless you suddenly grew a mullet, got an armful of tattoos, a lip piercing and a cosmetic surgery, he’s fairly sure that it isn’t you standing by a stove and cooking a pan of eggs but one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook the traitor.

Jeon Jungkook the one Jimin thought was a friend.

Best friend in fact.

In spite of how hard Jimin tries to eviscerate Jungkook with his glare, he cannot help but cringe as the man whips around, showcasing his black eye. Instinctually, Jimin runs a tongue over his lip. It still hurts.

There is a pregnant pause during which they don’t speak, merely stay in their respective corners of the room. Jungkook shifts from one foot to another, white knuckling the handle of the pan.

“I made you some eggs,” he splutters, hopefully presenting the food. Ever so slowly, Jimin lowers his gaze towards them and quirks a brow in order to show just how unfettered he is by it.

“I’ll vomit them back in your face,” he states coldly and Jungkook all but withers into himself.

“Listen, man, I know that I overstepped some boundaries—”

“Some?!” at once, Jimin has to clutch at his head to make sure it simply does not implode.

“All of the boundaries,” he corrects. "And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I betrayed your trust and __________’s trust, and I know that neither of you owe me your forgiveness.”

Jimin pries open one of his eyelids — it’s swollen and laced with sleep but even so he knows Jungkook and he knows Jungkook wasn’t capable of lying.

He truly is sorry.

“Why the change of heart?” Jimin barks mistrustfully. “Since when do you care for anything but yourself?”

It’s a low blow but damn if it does not delight him, to hurt Jungkook just as much as Jimin was hurt.

“________________,” Jungkook sighs, his nose scrunching up at what is certainly a recollection of some exceedingly sour memories. “Chewed me the fuck out. They said—” his breath hitches. In a still moment between one breath and the next, there is a single, utterly pathethic plea ringing in Jimin’s ears—

Please, dont take them away from me

“They said they were disgusted by me.”

He has to physically bite his tongue to not say “I’m sorry”. It’s just as instinctual for him to comfort Jungkook as it is for their younger one to seek that same comfort. For a brief moment, he sees a much younger Jungkook. A much younger Jungkook come to beg for understanding and Jimin himself, feels much younger. Much more ill-equipped to deal with Jungkook’s fragile heart.

But that moment disappears and with it the breadth of his anger.

It’s churning, he knows it is, he doesn’t deny it but he reckons that step by step, day by cautious day they’ll be able to calll each other friends again and greet you back home, inhabiting their rightful roles.

You would say they're a broken pot with its cracks glued by gold.

Yoongi would say they’re fucking morons.

TAEHYUNG | Dearest ____________________,

Let me preface this by saying, I know it’s inappropriate and I know it’s unfair for me to spring this on you. I must seem like a coward to you and that’s beacause I am one. Million times I must have tried to tell you, to be able to say IT to your face but I just can’t. I don’t care what you do with this letter, burn it if you must, destroy it if it brings you peace but a part of me reasons, people deserve to know when one loves them and so I tell you.

I love you.

I love you insanely. I love you devoutly but most of all I want to love you selflessly so I won’t ask of you anything don’t worry. I won’t ask of you to meet me, I won’t ask of you to let me down, gently or otherwise, I won’t ask of you to even look at me. I burn for you, I yearn for you but I also know you love Taehyung. I see your love for him as clear as I see my own so I understand I don’t have a place in your life. I don’t even dare to ask of you such a thing.

You may wonder why even write this at all? Well, for me this is a speech. A speech one would give at a funeral. I scream and I vomit all that I feel and with it, with every stroke of this stupid pen I hammer in a nail into a coffin of all the fondness I hold for you. With any luck, I’ll be able to return to it rarer and rarer until at last it’s swallowed by moss and will lay unrecognizable. With any luck, the scar will heal and will be just that — a painless scar left by idiocy of youth.

I don’t want you to find me, I don’t want you to know me, all I want is for you and Taehyung to be happy. Oh, Taehyung, if only I could also say how sorry I am for ever letting him down.

So please be happy _______________. Be the happiest a person has ever been so I can rest easy and breathe a little easier each day, knowing that none of us has made a grave mistake.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer.

Quite the letter, Taehyung reckons, closing it shut once he finishes tracing the inked lines. The thick black of the room is cut only by the orange flames licking at the firewood in the old fireplace. Glimpsing quietly across the shoulder, he finds you sleeping soundly on the hotel bed, hair splattered messily across the pillowcase. Taehyung supresses a deep sigh of relief before turning back with a heavy frown etched upon his face.

He took you away just in time, whoever this secret admirer was, he clearly held something more than a casual crush. When did he have the time to slip this into your bag, Taehyung did not know but it scared the shit out of him. The only people who both knew of his sudden trip to France and had the opportunity to see you were his members. His friends. His brothers. Which meant that one of them betrayed him. For one of them your name on their lips was not something easy to be spoken. For one of them your name was a benedction, meant to be sighed in shameful isolation.

The poetics said Namjoon but don’t find me said Yoongi. Loving insanely was Jungkook wanting to love selflessly was Jimin. But who could possibly know — maybe it was Hoseok, maybe it was Jin — Taehyung certainly didn’t.

He gazed down onto the thin paper, lips curling in distaste. Whoever he was, he should have just kept it to himself. For the first time, Taehyung was happy in his relationship, secure even and here he comes, one of his family, tearing it down.

Perhaps he should do what this admirer said — forget about it. No one wants to hate their family, right?

Yes, he thinks to himself, I’ll forget about. I’ll try really, really hard.

It was a good letter, beautiful even, he has to admit that much.

Shame though, he doesn’t hesitate to toss it into the flames, ______________won’t ever read it.

JUNGKOOK | “Baby, please.”

Jungkook loathes the fact at how weak he grows underneath your touch. Where others would give him a wide berth, all in fear of incuring a foul mood, you merely have to wrap your arms around his back and he feels the tension unlatching its jaw from his shoulders.

“Just talk to Jin.”

“Don’t even mention his name,” he growls, trying to sound pissed but his body has a mind of its own. It reaches to tug you closer around him, almost frightened that should he let you go for just a second, he could lose you.

“He came forward with how he felt,” you reason slowly, cautiously. “He was honest and just let it all out.”

“He should have choked with it,” Jungkook refutes. You don’t buy it.

“You don’t mean that.”

Jungkook knows you know he knows he doesn’t mean it but for the time being he just wants to be angry.

He turns to look over his shoulder, finding you nuzzled into his spine, swaying slighty from left to right. His heart swells with all this…love he held for you. Whatever Jin held was nothing but a cheap copy, a fling, a failure of the brain.

“You’re mine, got it,” he tries to warn you but you all but laugh at the pout in his tone. “I don’t care how handsome you think Jin is, you promised me forever first. Finders keepers and all that.”

“You’re a bit delusional, you know that?” you rub your nose against his jumper, spectacularly failing at trying to supress the smirk fighting its way onto your face.

“So what?” he scoffs, turning to scrub the dishes with far more vigour than neccessary. “It makes me happy.”

But your voice of “just talk to Jin” doesn’t leave the side of his ear. Like an overzealous mosquito it buzzes around his head at all hours of the day, at all hours of the night, round and round until Jungkook swears it makes his nose bleed.

It’s well past midnight when he finally musters up the courage to press the dial button to Jin’s number. His knee refuses to sit still and behind his back he’s crossing his fingers hoping that his friend will be asleep.

He is not.

When Jin replies with a timid “hello” he is surprisingly coherent as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“_______________ told me to give you a call,” Jungkook grouses instead of a greeting and the other line of the phone grows uncomfortably quiet.

“They’re too kind,” Jin whispers and Jungkook certainly agrees on it.

He taps his leg, bites his lip, looks at you for guidance — you’re asleep on his bed, practically knocked out because Jungkook just had to…show his love for you — and none of it helps him to get over this sudden knot growing at the base of his throat.

However, Jin beats it to him.

“I know I said it already,” he mutters miserably, voice crackingi across the connection. “But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry for doing this to you Jungkook. I wish nothing but happiness for you and _______________.”

They cry, they curse, they share their love for you and some three hours later it’s somewhat easier to breathe. The days, the weeks that Jungkook couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares of his light being stolen away, are wiped away with a cool hand and he rejoices in the comfort it provides. He doesn’t say I love you to Jin, he’s not yet ready for that but he knows Jin knows and he knows that Jin knows that he knows.

For now he just wants to sleep. Putting the phone away, Jungkook drops himself back into the pillow,  heaving a drawn-out sigh up against the black ceiling. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your neck “good night” as he always does. It’ll be alright, he reminds himself, surprisingly, it’ll all be just fine.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @sukunabitch; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi; @back2bluesidex; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett; @royallyjjk

 © soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[soraviie]

They're reopened now 💀💀

Why the holy grail of fuck did tumblr decide to just close my asks😭😭😭

[soraviie]

Why the holy grail of fuck did tumblr decide to just close my asks😭😭😭

[soraviie]

do I want y'all to suffer or do I want to be nice?

#choices choices

[soraviie]

@back2bluesidex Thank you for beta reading, Nika 💜 you're awesome

another member is in love with you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader   ━ masterlist

━ about: angst, a few hurt/comfort elements; this somehow wound up being about the bond between boys as much as the x reader part

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━  c/w: depiction of throwing up in Jimin’s part

NAMJOON | “Since when did you switch to another movie?”

Though the haze with which he’d come home with had not disappeared entirely, it did lessen. However, with this sentence being the first and only thing he’d spoken to you the entire day…well, you couldn’t help but be just a tad ornery.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” you jeer. “We do hope you enjoy your stay here.”

But something is undeniably wrong and it’s not the silence or the faraway gleam of his expression that gives it away but rather the absolute lack of reaction. His hand still monotonously brushes up against your leg that sits perched up in his lap but he’s simply not here.

“Joon,” you call out, a stern new tone lilting your voice. It stirs him enough to break whatever trance he self-imposed and lifting his head, Namjoon blearily blinks up like one would after a long nap.

“What’s with you?”

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

Sitting half-turned on the sofa with a distinct wrinkle of an oncoming frown, he awaits your answer. One you don’t know.

“Yoongi?” you parrot, all of a sudden being the confused one. “What…what does Yoongi have to do with anything?”

“Like are you two close?”

A beat of silence drags on as you stare at each other. It is frustrating being asked something you did not understand and yet even more so looking into Namjoon’s eyes and having no idea what is it that’s sitting behind them.

“Uh…not really?” at last you cautiously reply. “He texts me something funny every now and then but that’s it.”

“What kind of ‘something funny’?”

The room tumbles into another bout of silence. Slowly you tuck your legs away and though his fingers clutch repeatedly around the emptied air as if the sudden domestic absence has hurt him, the tone of his voice is just too damn imperial for you to care.

“Memes, cat videos,” unwittingly, a part of you — not so agreeable part — breaks free and arching an equally damning eyebrow, you goad him on: “Why? You want to have a look?”

He thinks of it, he genuinely weighs it over, you could see it in the way his pupils dart to the side, half-calculating, half-ashamed of the possibility. By the time that he wistfully utters: “no, there’s no need” it is too late. The tranquil peace of a quiet evening has thoroughly evaporated — what lingers in the air now is terse and partly hidden.

You may not know Yoongi but Namjoon knows Yoongi and he knows that there is something soft that quirks his lips at the mere mention of your name. That the way his gaze follows you around is just a touch too tender. Safe to say, it all goes unspoken — it is Yoongi after all — and Namjoon doesn’t know whether it’s for the better or worse. There is a certain kind of cathartic appeal to just shouting things aloud, consequences be damned, but as it stands, for now at least, everything is quiet and nothing is resolved.

Still, Yoongi doesn’t bother you — shouldn’t that be enough? He has the freedom to feel how he feels, just not the right to act upon it. And the fact is that it wasn’t Yoongi per se that was ruining his relationship right now; Namjoon was doing it quite well all by himself.

Peeking at you from the corner of the eye, he finds you sitting blue. Blue as in bathed in the blue light of the working TV although you do appear quite sad — all shrunken away into the corner, staring at the screen but not seeing anything.

You’ve had a fight.

He just started a fight.

Drawing a curt sigh, Namjoon inches himself a bit closer, acutely monitoring every last bit of you, down to the microexpressions. The slightly stretched out bottom lip, the tightly wound arms around your stomach, just the slight, almost imperceptible crease in between your eyebrows — yes, most certainly, you’ve just had a fight.

Still despite Namjoon moving ever so closer, slyly crawling back into your good graces both metaphorically and physically, you don’t make a move to deny him or cuss him out. In fact, you don’t make any move and once again he doesn’t know if that’s for the better or worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s earnest — you both know it is. You may not know that he’s saying sorry for more than just this but that too is earnest. “I don’t want us to fight.”

“Then don’t start no fights,” spitefully, you bite back but if your non-reaction was anything to go by as Namjoon places a palm on your knee, he will be forgiven.

YOONGI | Well, I should count my blessings it wasn’t Jungkook. Chiefly, that’s the first thought that pops into his head when on a random Tuesday in the most random of practice rooms, he sees the contact picture saved as Jimin’s phone lights up. Yoongi knows that picture, he took that picture. Which of course prompts the question how did Jimin get his hands on it because last time anyone checked you were Yoongi’s partner and not anyone else’s.

Sliding to unlock the call, he’s hoping like never before that it won’t about to change.

“Yes?”

“Yoongi?” instantly, you wonder. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know. Why do you—” fuck, his voice cracked. “Why do you want him? I mean, talk to him?”

“I don’t even know myself, dude,” loudly, you complain. “He called me some time ago, saying there’s something uber important to talk about and now I can’t get a hold of him anymore.”

Just then when Yoongi’s heart is about to free fall right to the bottom of his stomach, the doors to this very random practice room open and because life has a cruel and twisted sense of irony, it’s Jimin who steps through. Lately, he’s been looking haggard and it had been an unspoken agreement between the boys that his problems laid with album production but now, in one hand holding the love of his life and in the other what probably was his brother’s heart yearning for one he couldn’t have, Yoongi wonders whether it’s you whose keeping Jimin up at night with guilt. You and the smiling picture he definitely shouldn't have.

For a moment they simply stare at each other, without speaking a word. Like a clash of two worlds, the collective breath has been knocked out of the room and not even the clock pinned to the wall can cut through the sheer volume of silence.

At last, Yoongi gathers himself and stretching out the phone, he makes sure that his tone is nothing but utterly monotone.

“It’s ______________.”

Jimin grows deathly pale. His widened eyes jump from the phone in Yoongi's hands to Yoongi himself and like a deer in headlights, he keeps standing still. If his dry lips part to mutter something, no sound leaves him. The only thing he can muster is an awkward incline to indicate some kind of bow. Yoongi cards him back the phone, pretending he can’t hear your voice repeatedly questioning “hello?” on the other line and quickly steps out of the room.

It takes him three more hours than usual to get home. By that time you’re soundly asleep, clutching at the shirt Yoongi had so carelessly discarded on the bed this very morning. He quite earnestly wishes to go back to that moment, call in sick and not let either of you move out of the bed.

Despite him most definitely not wanting to, the smile creeping on his face is by now an instinctual. You could make him beam like a spring sunshine by just waking up. He loves you he knows that. He loves Jimin and Jimin as it turns out loves you. The question is of course — do you love Jimin as well?

Maybe he could…share?

“No, no,” Yoongi shakes his head, muttering to himself in the pale yellow light of the nightlamp. “What the fuck am I even thinking?”

How would that work? He gets you from Monday to Thursday only to then card you over to Jimin for the remaining week?

Glimpsing at you slumbering, half-nestled underneath the duvet, he can’t help but shudder. If you would ever learn what he just thought, it wouldn’t matter whether you love Jimin or not, because sure as hell Yoongi wouldn’t be alive to learn that fact.

Safe to say, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

As Yoongi tiredly observes you getting ready, there is an aggravating, oozing cut on his heart and every single action of yours pokes a big salted thumb right in its middle. Did you made your hair with the same level of precision when you went on a date with him? Did you dig through numerous outfits as desperately for him, trying, no, feeling the need to look good?

By the time, you’re done, he’s sitting on the bed, bleeding dry. Still, there are some things to consider — you were getting ready in his bedroom, it was his shirt you were pulling over your head and it was his initials hanging on a dainty chain down your neck.

… as it turns out, a drunken second date could lead to many things, be it a custom jewelry or a tattoo of someone’s name on their back or…left butt cheek, to be more precise.

You had a history together and he could only hope that it meant something to you.

“I’m going to meet up with—”

“Jimin after work.”

You swerve to gander at him, frowning as you do so but Yoongi doesn’t explain how he knows you will. Only wishes a succinct “don’t be out too late” and lets you out of his grasp.

It wasn’t like him to chain anyone down and you wouldn’t love him if he did. This is one of those things he just has to trust you with and maybe in time, he’ll learn to trust Jimin again.

True to your promise, when the clock strikes six you’re not at home like you usually would be. At first seven passes, then eight, then nine. Yoongi still gives you the benefit of the doubt. But when the clock starts crawling half past eleven, his knee cannot stop bouncing and his mouth cannot stop gnawing on his own nails. However, just when he no longer can stand the veritable avalanche of anxiety bucking him under, you drag yourself through the door. All complaints and accusations swiftly evaporate from the tip of his tongue as Yoongi takes in just how dead you appear. Your expression is permanently frozen in a state of hurt confusion so much so that when Yoongi slides the jacket over your shoulders, you don’t seem to notice his presence.

It’s only around one in the morning, when staring at a steaming mug of warm tea, you dare to whisper the revelation Yoongi already knows.

“Jimin said he’s in love with me.”

“I know.”

He cringes as the hurt in your eyes now finds him. Sweet heaven, how could Jimin ever do this.

“You knew?” incredulously, you question. “You knew and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“It was not my secret to tell,” firmly, he replies. “And you know that.”

“But you don’t know how he looked!” you continue, steadily working yourself up to an angered hiss. “He said he loves me and hates himself for it. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt you. You know he thinks of you like a brother.”

Dragging a tired palm over his face, Yoongi whispers that he does know that.

“Anyway, Jimin told me that he has no intention of butting in our relationship,” you conclude numbly and while Yoongi is happy to hear it, the same delight is overshadowed by worry. Was Jimin drinking? Was he somewhere unsafe in Seoul right now?

Seemingly being able to read his mind, you answer before the question is even poised.

“I made sure Jungkook picks him up and looks after him,” you sigh, pushing the mug away. It was completely full. “He wanted to apologize to you for doing this.”

“Via you?”

You sigh once more and somehow it’s even heavier.

“I don’t think that he can bear to look at you right now.”

Yoongi’s gaze darts to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, it lays there dull and lifeless up until you reach to gently wrap a hand around his palm.

“We’ll be okay,” you reassure him with a smile far too meagre to be convincing. “All of us will be okay. In time.”

It takes approximately a week for Yoongi to run into Jimin. They cross each other's paths in a hallway next to the exit doors. What sparse conversation they share is gone as soon as it starts. Yoongi takes in the exhausted, heartbroken look that seems to devour Jimin whole and all he manages to wrangle out is an understanding “I’m sorry” spoken at a distance.

Jimin gives him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, before putting back his headphones and stalking out into the rain soaked street with a downward gaze.

Yoongi hopes that it will be, as you said, all okay in due time.

SEOKJIN | Hoseok’s entry level of amusement had always been on the floor. Thus seeing him nearly double over in a peel of roaring laughter is not by any means an unusual sight. But...

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, standing next to a positively beaming Hoseok. You were funny, Hoseok liked funny.

And he also liked you.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the tiny fact that you and Jin already have matching bands around your fingers and that you are in fact undeniably, irrevocably the love of his life.

So…there’s that.

Though sitting back and simply observing feels somehow wrong, what else is he supposed to do? Going over there and punching Hoseok in the teeth is not only something he would not usually do but also, in Jin’s mind, it wasn’t even close to being productive — so what else is there?

And yes maybe it does irk him.

“Gosh, it looks like a painting,” you sigh contently, gazing over the rolling grass and clumps of disorganised mountains in the background.

“I know, a real masterpiece,” Hoseok agrees but his heart-shaped gaze is not found on said clumps of mountains or the tufts of white clouds rolling above. It's firmly planted on you and so it has been for quite some time.

Yes, it does irk him, knowing that his brother, practically flesh and blood in all the accounts that it mattered, would betray him but even so the last thing Jin wants is to tell you. There was no doubt about it — the knowledge would break your heart.

At first, you’d blame yourself, concocting in your mind that somehow this was solely just your doing and that should any fight occur it’d be you who’d spark it and then you’d cut ties with Hoseok completely. Whatever the case may be of his feelings, Hoseok was the first one who accepted you, who welcomed you into their midst as Jin’s partner with no suspicions or walls of guarded behaviour. He’d become your ride and die and frankly, very, very frankly, Jin was just as worried whether Hoseok would survive such sudden separation.

He can’t not care for his friend and as messy as it is, his friend’s wellbeing now partially hinged on his partner’s smile.

What a shit fest.

Jin is fairly certain Hoseok will not attempt anything. The sense of shame broiling within him is so apparent that more than once someone else had caught Jin by the elbow, wondering whether they have had a fight.

They haven’t, monotonously, he replies each and every time, but he doesn’t insist it’s all good either.

Regardless, the fact is he hasn’t spoken with Hoseok for…quite some time. His contact number has traversed from the usual "recently dialled" to possibly being outdated.

“Hey, you’re not sick, are you?” the sound of your worried voice at last rouses Jin from the literal plague of thoughts buzzing around. For good measure, you put your palm on his forehead, trying to gauge the temperature.

Jin wrangles it away, for a moment considering whether to kiss it. Hoseok is looking.

He chooses to hold your hand instead, his finger lingering on the promise ring.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“You’ve just been really quiet ever since we got here.”

“I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of struggles you have to go through.”

Your brow wrinkles and you gaze down on Jin whose been slowly or not so slowly sipping his whiskey by the fire pit.

“Struggles?” you echoe confused and Jin gives a sage nod.

“I’m already so beautiful every single moment but out here — in our forest get together… I can’t even imagine how you cope. I must be absolutely enthralling.”

There’s a solid minute of absolute silence before you enrupt in fond laughter.

“Don’t ever change, Jin.”

He tries to mimic your grin but it falls a touch too flat so instead his eye travels towards the onlooking Hoseok. Both hold each other’s stare before quickly turning away.

“I definitely won’t,” absent-mindedly, Jin mumbles under the nose.

HOSEOK | It just had to be Namjoon.

“Well, at least it’s not Jungkook,” Namjoon breathes a demure laugh.

If Hoseok had any heart to pummel him through the ground, he would.

“Motherfucker, really?!”

“I’m sorry.”

It truly was a curse to see someone as human. Because no matter how mad Hoseok was at Namjoon, he could not rid himself of a kid's image in this man. A kid who always was beside him. A kid with all the big dreams and all the wrong approaches to those dreams. Still, Namjoon had a kind heart and there was no one more dedicated to fixing their wrongs than him. Hoseok presumes it was this same dedication that had brought his best friend to his doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a great big apology tumbling like vomit out of his mouth.

“They just called me to help arrange your birthday present. I promise it wasn’t any more than that.”

For what seems like the hundredth time, Namjoon rushes to explain, wearing not to subtle glimmer of delirium in his eye.

“We met up for a coffee,” Hoseok’s eyebrow twitches and though he could have sworn it was impossible, Namjoon grows a touch paler from fear. “And we only discussed you and I left the second I could!”

“So my partner called up my best friend whose actually in love with them to discuss the plans for my birthday. Me, their partner who knows that his best friend is in love with said partner.”

All Namjoon can really do is apologetically rub the back of his neck all while trying (and failing) to inconscpicously inch closer towards the doors.

“It’s messed up, I know.”

“It’s more than a little messed up, Joon,” Hoseok laughs dryly, already sensing the tepid touch of an oncoming migraine. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Immediately, Namjoon shakes his head, the glasses perched on the top of his nose threatening to simply hurtle against the wall.

“We agreed to not tell them. I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

And Hoseok does hate himself for it but he’s always wondered so why not ask while the opportunity is still fresh —

“Why did you agree?” he prods with what to him appears as a cautious hand. “You could have just told how you feel—”

But Namjoon is quick to interrupt.

“I don’t want to,” he states with no small amount of firmness. It’s the sort of resolution Hoseok has seen him wield in front of the UN, in front of difficulties he could not even comprehend. Something steel-like rests behind his gaze and Hoseok knows that whatever sort of intention Namjoon has set on you, no force of nature can lead him astray.

“I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.”

“_____________ wouldn’t look at you with—”

“Yes, they would,” Namjoon interrupts him again, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “I wouldn’t be Namjoon the leader, Namjoon the trustworthy member, Namjoon, your,” he stammers; it’s almost imperceptible alas Hoseok just knows him too well. “Your brother but I’d be small Namjoon. I’d be Namjoon the naive fool who would require kid gloves in case any remark about the happiness of your relationship would break his heart. And I don’t want that.”

Ah.

“I want ________________,” they both know it’s a poor choice of wording but none of them is brave enough to remark upon it. “In a natural way, you know. I want to be their friend, I don’t want to make things any more complicated. So, yeah, I don’t want to tell them and perhaps,” he licks at his dry lips, briefly glimpsing outside. Unbeknowst to himself Hoseok mimicks the movement, forcing the barest sliver of a smile upon Namjoon’s face. “Nah, it is selfish but it is what it is.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they stand silent and it’s painfully awkward but also…it’s good. It’s almost unbelievable but things are actually peaceful between them.

“What does ____________ has planned for my birthday?”

Namjoon cracks a wry smile.

“I ain’t telling you that.”

The ring of Hoseok’s phone cuts the lingering tension in two and like an air escaping from a pop balloon, the room grows lax.

If a bit sad.

“Hey babe,” Hoseok greets you and Namjoon simply pretends like he isn’t here to hear that. “You’re waiting outside? Yeah, I’ll get going soon. Bye. Love you too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Namjoon turns away, obstinately staring at anything just to not see what currently he does not want to see. Hoseok simply lets him be.

“I’ve got to go,” he waves around some well-meaning gesture that falls flat on comfort, already halfway there to bolt out of the door. “Will you be okay?”

He watches Namjoon scuff the shoe against the floor. It’s a tad too angry for someone who will undoubtedly insist on being utterly okay.

“Yeah, of course!” Namjoon brushes him off, feigning indifference a bit too well. “I’ll just, you know, go into my studio and write some lyrics to process my bottomless devotion to the love of your life.”

Kidding! — follows soon after.

“Sort of,” is added when Hoseok ultimately leaves the room.

JIMIN | “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Jimin…”

“Don’t you dare to pity me!”

“I’m not. Actually, quite the opposite.”

Jimin glowers at Yoongi across the rim of his glass but it doesn’t quite have the effect he pictured. Yoongi keeps on wearing the same unimpressed grimace he’d sat down with. He draws a great sigh for the upteenth time and begins again, a bit gentler, a bit more lenient.

Jimin doesn’t know which is worse — either way, he’s a hair away from bursting into tears.

“I didn’t expect you, out of all people, to think with your fists instead of your brain.”

And just like that, the tears evaporate.

“He tried to take them away,” he whispers, voice shaking from the barely concealed rage. Not even at Jungkook’s feelings per se but rather at his sheer audacity. Jimin would understand if he would just fall in love with you, he would understand, he knows how easy it was to love you, to be consumed by you but to go—!

“He went behind my back!” he cries out loudly, instantly drawing the attention to their small tablee. “He went and asked to be given a chance!”

The frown on Yoongi’s face deepens and seeing such an opening Jimin reaches out and does what he knows best. He pours himself a drink, knocks it down into his throat and hopes he’ll pass out soon.

Yoongi bats at his arm, steadily growing redder and redder from the frustration alone.

“Stop drinking!” he chides with an irritated hiss. “I’m not excusing Jungkook’s actions. But you know how he is.”

“And thus I’m supposed to forgive him for trying to fuck my fucking partner?!”

Once again, all eyes sit on their table as Jimin’s voice rises into an angered scream.

“Yeah, and look at you now. You’ve traded fists with your best friend, gotten yourself a busted lip and _______________ has moved out and honestly good for them. I also wouldn’t want to stand you clowns.”

“You’re supposed to be comforting me,” Jimin scoffs but receives nothing but an ill-meaning glare back.

“I’m all out.”

When at long last Jimin gets home, it’s well past three in the morning. His head is spinning and not so small part of him regrets ever drinking. The alcohol is clawing back up his throat and it doesn’t care that he’s putting a palm in front of his mouth. He’s about to vomit it all back out.

“Jesus,” a blur of a voice calls above him and Jimin finds himself being hastily carded to the toilet. He wonders who it is — it couldn't be you, you wouldn’t be able to lug him around like a roll of wet paper towels but he simply doesn’t have the time to care about it. As the next thing that comes out of his mouth is not a question poised, eloquenty or not, but a steady stream of stomach acid and half-digested fragments of his piss-poor dinner. His faceless saviour brushes the hair back from his forehead, occasionally laying an empathetic pat on his back. Though his mouth of full of bile, Jimin tries to say he appreciates it.

The sun greets him vicious and unforgiving. His head pounds and for the longest part of an hour, Jimin doesn’t even recall on how he made it back into his bed. Spotting a full glass of water and painkillers, he both chugs it all down and prays to heaven that it is you. Someone’s definitely clambering around his kitchen. The noise of a pan on a stove is unmistakanable regardless of the state he’s in.

Cautiously, Jimin pads over to the kitchen, attempting to put together at least two phrases of a genuine apology but the sight he sees only further spikes the nausea gripping him whole.

Unless you suddenly grew a mullet, got an armful of tattoos, a lip piercing and a cosmetic surgery, he’s fairly sure that it isn’t you standing by a stove and cooking a pan of eggs but one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook the traitor.

Jeon Jungkook the one Jimin thought was a friend.

Best friend in fact.

In spite of how hard Jimin tries to eviscerate Jungkook with his glare, he cannot help but cringe as the man whips around, showcasing his black eye. Instinctually, Jimin runs a tongue over his lip. It still hurts.

There is a pregnant pause during which they don’t speak, merely stay in their respective corners of the room. Jungkook shifts from one foot to another, white knuckling the handle of the pan.

“I made you some eggs,” he splutters, hopefully presenting the food. Ever so slowly, Jimin lowers his gaze towards them and quirks a brow in order to show just how unfettered he is by it.

“I’ll vomit them back in your face,” he states coldly and Jungkook all but withers into himself.

“Listen, man, I know that I overstepped some boundaries—”

“Some?!” at once, Jimin has to clutch at his head to make sure it simply does not implode.

“All of the boundaries,” he corrects. "And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I betrayed your trust and __________’s trust, and I know that neither of you owe me your forgiveness.”

Jimin pries open one of his eyelids — it’s swollen and laced with sleep but even so he knows Jungkook and he knows Jungkook wasn’t capable of lying.

He truly is sorry.

“Why the change of heart?” Jimin barks mistrustfully. “Since when do you care for anything but yourself?”

It’s a low blow but damn if it does not delight him, to hurt Jungkook just as much as Jimin was hurt.

“________________,” Jungkook sighs, his nose scrunching up at what is certainly a recollection of some exceedingly sour memories. “Chewed me the fuck out. They said—” his breath hitches. In a still moment between one breath and the next, there is a single, utterly pathethic plea ringing in Jimin’s ears—

Please, dont take them away from me

“They said they were disgusted by me.”

He has to physically bite his tongue to not say “I’m sorry”. It’s just as instinctual for him to comfort Jungkook as it is for their younger one to seek that same comfort. For a brief moment, he sees a much younger Jungkook. A much younger Jungkook come to beg for understanding and Jimin himself, feels much younger. Much more ill-equipped to deal with Jungkook’s fragile heart.

But that moment disappears and with it the breadth of his anger.

It’s churning, he knows it is, he doesn’t deny it but he reckons that step by step, day by cautious day they’ll be able to calll each other friends again and greet you back home, inhabiting their rightful roles.

You would say they're a broken pot with its cracks glued by gold.

Yoongi would say they’re fucking morons.

TAEHYUNG | Dearest ____________________,

Let me preface this by saying, I know it’s inappropriate and I know it’s unfair for me to spring this on you. I must seem like a coward to you and that’s beacause I am one. Million times I must have tried to tell you, to be able to say IT to your face but I just can’t. I don’t care what you do with this letter, burn it if you must, destroy it if it brings you peace but a part of me reasons, people deserve to know when one loves them and so I tell you.

I love you.

I love you insanely. I love you devoutly but most of all I want to love you selflessly so I won’t ask of you anything don’t worry. I won’t ask of you to meet me, I won’t ask of you to let me down, gently or otherwise, I won’t ask of you to even look at me. I burn for you, I yearn for you but I also know you love Taehyung. I see your love for him as clear as I see my own so I understand I don’t have a place in your life. I don’t even dare to ask of you such a thing.

You may wonder why even write this at all? Well, for me this is a speech. A speech one would give at a funeral. I scream and I vomit all that I feel and with it, with every stroke of this stupid pen I hammer in a nail into a coffin of all the fondness I hold for you. With any luck, I’ll be able to return to it rarer and rarer until at last it’s swallowed by moss and will lay unrecognizable. With any luck, the scar will heal and will be just that — a painless scar left by idiocy of youth.

I don’t want you to find me, I don’t want you to know me, all I want is for you and Taehyung to be happy. Oh, Taehyung, if only I could also say how sorry I am for ever letting him down.

So please be happy _______________. Be the happiest a person has ever been so I can rest easy and breathe a little easier each day, knowing that none of us has made a grave mistake.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer.

Quite the letter, Taehyung reckons, closing it shut once he finishes tracing the inked lines. The thick black of the room is cut only by the orange flames licking at the firewood in the old fireplace. Glimpsing quietly across the shoulder, he finds you sleeping soundly on the hotel bed, hair splattered messily across the pillowcase. Taehyung supresses a deep sigh of relief before turning back with a heavy frown etched upon his face.

He took you away just in time, whoever this secret admirer was, he clearly held something more than a casual crush. When did he have the time to slip this into your bag, Taehyung did not know but it scared the shit out of him. The only people who both knew of his sudden trip to France and had the opportunity to see you were his members. His friends. His brothers. Which meant that one of them betrayed him. For one of them your name on their lips was not something easy to be spoken. For one of them your name was a benedction, meant to be sighed in shameful isolation.

The poetics said Namjoon but don’t find me said Yoongi. Loving insanely was Jungkook wanting to love selflessly was Jimin. But who could possibly know — maybe it was Hoseok, maybe it was Jin — Taehyung certainly didn’t.

He gazed down onto the thin paper, lips curling in distaste. Whoever he was, he should have just kept it to himself. For the first time, Taehyung was happy in his relationship, secure even and here he comes, one of his family, tearing it down.

Perhaps he should do what this admirer said — forget about it. No one wants to hate their family, right?

Yes, he thinks to himself, I’ll forget about. I’ll try really, really hard.

It was a good letter, beautiful even, he has to admit that much.

Shame though, he doesn’t hesitate to toss it into the flames, ______________won’t ever read it.

JUNGKOOK | “Baby, please.”

Jungkook loathes the fact at how weak he grows underneath your touch. Where others would give him a wide berth, all in fear of incuring a foul mood, you merely have to wrap your arms around his back and he feels the tension unlatching its jaw from his shoulders.

“Just talk to Jin.”

“Don’t even mention his name,” he growls, trying to sound pissed but his body has a mind of its own. It reaches to tug you closer around him, almost frightened that should he let you go for just a second, he could lose you.

“He came forward with how he felt,” you reason slowly, cautiously. “He was honest and just let it all out.”

“He should have choked with it,” Jungkook refutes. You don’t buy it.

“You don’t mean that.”

Jungkook knows you know he knows he doesn’t mean it but for the time being he just wants to be angry.

He turns to look over his shoulder, finding you nuzzled into his spine, swaying slighty from left to right. His heart swells with all this…love he held for you. Whatever Jin held was nothing but a cheap copy, a fling, a failure of the brain.

“You’re mine, got it,” he tries to warn you but you all but laugh at the pout in his tone. “I don’t care how handsome you think Jin is, you promised me forever first. Finders keepers and all that.”

“You’re a bit delusional, you know that?” you rub your nose against his jumper, spectacularly failing at trying to supress the smirk fighting its way onto your face.

“So what?” he scoffs, turning to scrub the dishes with far more vigour than neccessary. “It makes me happy.”

But your voice of “just talk to Jin” doesn’t leave the side of his ear. Like an overzealous mosquito it buzzes around his head at all hours of the day, at all hours of the night, round and round until Jungkook swears it makes his nose bleed.

It’s well past midnight when he finally musters up the courage to press the dial button to Jin’s number. His knee refuses to sit still and behind his back he’s crossing his fingers hoping that his friend will be asleep.

He is not.

When Jin replies with a timid “hello” he is surprisingly coherent as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“_______________ told me to give you a call,” Jungkook grouses instead of a greeting and the other line of the phone grows uncomfortably quiet.

“They’re too kind,” Jin whispers and Jungkook certainly agrees on it.

He taps his leg, bites his lip, looks at you for guidance — you’re asleep on his bed, practically knocked out because Jungkook just had to…show his love for you — and none of it helps him to get over this sudden knot growing at the base of his throat.

However, Jin beats it to him.

“I know I said it already,” he mutters miserably, voice crackingi across the connection. “But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry for doing this to you Jungkook. I wish nothing but happiness for you and _______________.”

They cry, they curse, they share their love for you and some three hours later it’s somewhat easier to breathe. The days, the weeks that Jungkook couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares of his light being stolen away, are wiped away with a cool hand and he rejoices in the comfort it provides. He doesn’t say I love you to Jin, he’s not yet ready for that but he knows Jin knows and he knows that Jin knows that he knows.

For now he just wants to sleep. Putting the phone away, Jungkook drops himself back into the pillow,  heaving a drawn-out sigh up against the black ceiling. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your neck “good night” as he always does. It’ll be alright, he reminds himself, surprisingly, it’ll all be just fine.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @sukunabitch; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi; @back2bluesidex; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett; @royallyjjk

 © soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[soraviie]

another member is in love with you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader   ━ navigation

━ about: angst, a few hurt/comfort elements; this somehow wound up being about the bond between boys as much as the x reader part

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━  c/w: depiction of throwing up in Jimin’s part

NAMJOON | “Since when did you switch to another movie?”

Though the haze with which he’d come home with had not disappeared entirely, it did lessen. However, with this sentence being the first and only thing he’d spoken to you the entire day…well, you couldn’t help but be just a tad ornery.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” you jeer. “We do hope you enjoy your stay here.”

But something is undeniably wrong and it’s not the silence or the faraway gleam of his expression that gives it away but rather the absolute lack of reaction. His hand still monotonously brushes up against your leg that sits perched up in his lap but he’s simply not here.

“Joon,” you call out, a stern new tone lilting your voice. It stirs him enough to break whatever trance he self-imposed and lifting his head, Namjoon blearily blinks up like one would after a long nap.

“What’s with you?”

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

Sitting half-turned on the sofa with a distinct wrinkle of an oncoming frown, he awaits your answer. One you don’t know.

“Yoongi?” you parrot, all of a sudden being the confused one. “What…what does Yoongi have to do with anything?”

“Like are you two close?”

A beat of silence drags on as you stare at each other. It is frustrating being asked something you did not understand and yet even more so looking into Namjoon’s eyes and having no idea what is it that’s sitting behind them.

“Uh…not really?” at last you cautiously reply. “He texts me something funny every now and then but that’s it.”

“What kind of ‘something funny’?”

The room tumbles into another bout of silence. Slowly you tuck your legs away and though his fingers clutch repeatedly around the emptied air as if the sudden domestic absence has hurt him, the tone of his voice is just too damn imperial for you to care.

“Memes, cat videos,” unwittingly, a part of you — not so agreeable part — breaks free and arching an equally damning eyebrow, you goad him on: “Why? You want to have a look?”

He thinks of it, he genuinely weighs it over, you could see it in the way his pupils dart to the side, half-calculating, half-ashamed of the possibility. By the time that he wistfully utters: “no, there’s no need” it is too late. The tranquil peace of a quiet evening has thoroughly evaporated — what lingers in the air now is terse and partly hidden.

You may not know Yoongi but Namjoon knows Yoongi and he knows that there is something soft that quirks his lips at the mere mention of your name. That the way his gaze follows you around is just a touch too tender. Safe to say, it all goes unspoken — it is Yoongi after all — and Namjoon doesn’t know whether it’s for the better or worse. There is a certain kind of cathartic appeal to just shouting things aloud, consequences be damned, but as it stands, for now at least, everything is quiet and nothing is resolved.

Still, Yoongi doesn’t bother you — shouldn’t that be enough? He has the freedom to feel how he feels, just not the right to act upon it. And the fact is that it wasn’t Yoongi per se that was ruining his relationship right now; Namjoon was doing it quite well all by himself.

Peeking at you from the corner of the eye, he finds you sitting blue. Blue as in bathed in the blue light of the working TV although you do appear quite sad — all shrunken away into the corner, staring at the screen but not seeing anything.

You’ve had a fight.

He just started a fight.

Drawing a curt sigh, Namjoon inches himself a bit closer, acutely monitoring every last bit of you, down to the microexpressions. The slightly stretched out bottom lip, the tightly wound arms around your stomach, just the slight, almost imperceptible crease in between your eyebrows — yes, most certainly, you’ve just had a fight.

Still despite Namjoon moving ever so closer, slyly crawling back into your good graces both metaphorically and physically, you don’t make a move to deny him or cuss him out. In fact, you don’t make any move and once again he doesn’t know if that’s for the better or worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s earnest — you both know it is. You may not know that he’s saying sorry for more than just this but that too is earnest. “I don’t want us to fight.”

“Then don’t start no fights,” spitefully, you bite back but if your non-reaction was anything to go by as Namjoon places a palm on your knee, he will be forgiven.

YOONGI | Well, I should count my blessings it wasn’t Jungkook. Chiefly, that’s the first thought that pops into his head when on a random Tuesday in the most random of practice rooms, he sees the contact picture saved as Jimin’s phone lights up. Yoongi knows that picture, he took that picture. Which of course prompts the question how did Jimin get his hands on it because last time anyone checked you were Yoongi’s partner and not anyone else’s.

Sliding to unlock the call, he’s hoping like never before that it won’t about to change.

“Yes?”

“Yoongi?” instantly, you wonder. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know. Why do you—” fuck, his voice cracked. “Why do you want him? I mean, talk to him?”

“I don’t even know myself, dude,” loudly, you complain. “He called me some time ago, saying there’s something uber important to talk about and now I can’t get a hold of him anymore.”

Just then when Yoongi’s heart is about to free fall right to the bottom of his stomach, the doors to this very random practice room open and because life has a cruel and twisted sense of irony, it’s Jimin who steps through. Lately, he’s been looking haggard and it had been an unspoken agreement between the boys that his problems laid with album production but now, in one hand holding the love of his life and in the other what probably was his brother’s heart yearning for one he couldn’t have, Yoongi wonders whether it’s you whose keeping Jimin up at night with guilt. You and the smiling picture he definitely shouldn't have.

For a moment they simply stare at each other, without speaking a word. Like a clash of two worlds, the collective breath has been knocked out of the room and not even the clock pinned to the wall can cut through the sheer volume of silence.

At last, Yoongi gathers himself and stretching out the phone, he makes sure that his tone is nothing but utterly monotone.

“It’s ______________.”

Jimin grows deathly pale. His widened eyes jump from the phone in Yoongi's hands to Yoongi himself and like a deer in headlights, he keeps standing still. If his dry lips part to mutter something, no sound leaves him. The only thing he can muster is an awkward incline to indicate some kind of bow. Yoongi cards him back the phone, pretending he can’t hear your voice repeatedly questioning “hello?” on the other line and quickly steps out of the room.

It takes him three more hours than usual to get home. By that time you’re soundly asleep, clutching at the shirt Yoongi had so carelessly discarded on the bed this very morning. He quite earnestly wishes to go back to that moment, call in sick and not let either of you move out of the bed.

Despite him most definitely not wanting to, the smile creeping on his face is by now an instinctual. You could make him beam like a spring sunshine by just waking up. He loves you he knows that. He loves Jimin and Jimin as it turns out loves you. The question is of course — do you love Jimin as well?

Maybe he could…share?

“No, no,” Yoongi shakes his head, muttering to himself in the pale yellow light of the nightlamp. “What the fuck am I even thinking?”

How would that work? He gets you from Monday to Thursday only to then card you over to Jimin for the remaining week?

Glimpsing at you slumbering, half-nestled underneath the duvet, he can’t help but shudder. If you would ever learn what he just thought, it wouldn’t matter whether you love Jimin or not, because sure as hell Yoongi wouldn’t be alive to learn that fact.

Safe to say, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

As Yoongi tiredly observes you getting ready, there is an aggravating, oozing cut on his heart and every single action of yours pokes a big salted thumb right in its middle. Did you made your hair with the same level of precision when you went on a date with him? Did you dig through numerous outfits as desperately for him, trying, no, feeling the need to look good?

By the time, you’re done, he’s sitting on the bed, bleeding dry. Still, there are some things to consider — you were getting ready in his bedroom, it was his shirt you were pulling over your head and it was his initials hanging on a dainty chain down your neck.

… as it turns out, a drunken second date could lead to many things, be it a custom jewelry or a tattoo of someone’s name on their back or…left butt cheek, to be more precise.

You had a history together and he could only hope that it meant something to you.

“I’m going to meet up with—”

“Jimin after work.”

You swerve to gander at him, frowning as you do so but Yoongi doesn’t explain how he knows you will. Only wishes a succinct “don’t be out too late” and lets you out of his grasp.

It wasn’t like him to chain anyone down and you wouldn’t love him if he did. This is one of those things he just has to trust you with and maybe in time, he’ll learn to trust Jimin again.

True to your promise, when the clock strikes six you’re not at home like you usually would be. At first seven passes, then eight, then nine. Yoongi still gives you the benefit of the doubt. But when the clock starts crawling half past eleven, his knee cannot stop bouncing and his mouth cannot stop gnawing on his own nails. However, just when he no longer can stand the veritable avalanche of anxiety bucking him under, you drag yourself through the door. All complaints and accusations swiftly evaporate from the tip of his tongue as Yoongi takes in just how dead you appear. Your expression is permanently frozen in a state of hurt confusion so much so that when Yoongi slides the jacket over your shoulders, you don’t seem to notice his presence.

It’s only around one in the morning, when staring at a steaming mug of warm tea, you dare to whisper the revelation Yoongi already knows.

“Jimin said he’s in love with me.”

“I know.”

He cringes as the hurt in your eyes now finds him. Sweet heaven, how could Jimin ever do this.

“You knew?” incredulously, you question. “You knew and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“It was not my secret to tell,” firmly, he replies. “And you know that.”

“But you don’t know how he looked!” you continue, steadily working yourself up to an angered hiss. “He said he loves me and hates himself for it. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt you. You know he thinks of you like a brother.”

Dragging a tired palm over his face, Yoongi whispers that he does know that.

“Anyway, Jimin told me that he has no intention of butting in our relationship,” you conclude numbly and while Yoongi is happy to hear it, the same delight is overshadowed by worry. Was Jimin drinking? Was he somewhere unsafe in Seoul right now?

Seemingly being able to read his mind, you answer before the question is even poised.

“I made sure Jungkook picks him up and looks after him,” you sigh, pushing the mug away. It was completely full. “He wanted to apologize to you for doing this.”

“Via you?”

You sigh once more and somehow it’s even heavier.

“I don’t think that he can bear to look at you right now.”

Yoongi’s gaze darts to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, it lays there dull and lifeless up until you reach to gently wrap a hand around his palm.

“We’ll be okay,” you reassure him with a smile far too meagre to be convincing. “All of us will be okay. In time.”

It takes approximately a week for Yoongi to run into Jimin. They cross each other's paths in a hallway next to the exit doors. What sparse conversation they share is gone as soon as it starts. Yoongi takes in the exhausted, heartbroken look that seems to devour Jimin whole and all he manages to wrangle out is an understanding “I’m sorry” spoken at a distance.

Jimin gives him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, before putting back his headphones and stalking out into the rain soaked street with a downward gaze.

Yoongi hopes that it will be, as you said, all okay in due time.

SEOKJIN | Hoseok’s entry level of amusement had always been on the floor. Thus seeing him nearly double over in a peel of roaring laughter is not by any means an unusual sight. But...

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, standing next to a positively beaming Hoseok. You were funny, Hoseok liked funny.

And he also liked you.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the tiny fact that you and Jin already have matching bands around your fingers and that you are in fact undeniably, irrevocably the love of his life.

So…there’s that.

Though sitting back and simply observing feels somehow wrong, what else is he supposed to do? Going over there and punching Hoseok in the teeth is not only something he would not usually do but also, in Jin’s mind, it wasn’t even close to being productive — so what else is there?

And yes maybe it does irk him.

“Gosh, it looks like a painting,” you sigh contently, gazing over the rolling grass and clumps of disorganised mountains in the background.

“I know, a real masterpiece,” Hoseok agrees but his heart-shaped gaze is not found on said clumps of mountains or the tufts of white clouds rolling above. It's firmly planted on you and so it has been for quite some time.

Yes, it does irk him, knowing that his brother, practically flesh and blood in all the accounts that it mattered, would betray him but even so the last thing Jin wants is to tell you. There was no doubt about it — the knowledge would break your heart.

At first, you’d blame yourself, concocting in your mind that somehow this was solely just your doing and that should any fight occur it’d be you who’d spark it and then you’d cut ties with Hoseok completely. Whatever the case may be of his feelings, Hoseok was the first one who accepted you, who welcomed you into their midst as Jin’s partner with no suspicions or walls of guarded behaviour. He’d become your ride and die and frankly, very, very frankly, Jin was just as worried whether Hoseok would survive such sudden separation.

He can’t not care for his friend and as messy as it is, his friend’s wellbeing now partially hinged on his partner’s smile.

What a shit fest.

Jin is fairly certain Hoseok will not attempt anything. The sense of shame broiling within him is so apparent that more than once someone else had caught Jin by the elbow, wondering whether they have had a fight.

They haven’t, monotonously, he replies each and every time, but he doesn’t insist it’s all good either.

Regardless, the fact is he hasn’t spoken with Hoseok for…quite some time. His contact number has traversed from the usual "recently dialled" to possibly being outdated.

“Hey, you’re not sick, are you?” the sound of your worried voice at last rouses Jin from the literal plague of thoughts buzzing around. For good measure, you put your palm on his forehead, trying to gauge the temperature.

Jin wrangles it away, for a moment considering whether to kiss it. Hoseok is looking.

He chooses to hold your hand instead, his finger lingering on the promise ring.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“You’ve just been really quiet ever since we got here.”

“I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of struggles you have to go through.”

Your brow wrinkles and you gaze down on Jin whose been slowly or not so slowly sipping his whiskey by the fire pit.

“Struggles?” you echoe confused and Jin gives a sage nod.

“I’m already so beautiful every single moment but out here — in our forest get together… I can’t even imagine how you cope. I must be absolutely enthralling.”

There’s a solid minute of absolute silence before you enrupt in fond laughter.

“Don’t ever change, Jin.”

He tries to mimic your grin but it falls a touch too flat so instead his eye travels towards the onlooking Hoseok. Both hold each other’s stare before quickly turning away.

“I definitely won’t,” absent-mindedly, Jin mumbles under the nose.

HOSEOK | It just had to be Namjoon.

“Well, at least it’s not Jungkook,” Namjoon breathes a demure laugh.

If Hoseok had any heart to pummel him through the ground, he would.

“Motherfucker, really?!”

“I’m sorry.”

It truly was a curse to see someone as human. Because no matter how mad Hoseok was at Namjoon, he could not rid himself of a kid's image in this man. A kid who always was beside him. A kid with all the big dreams and all the wrong approaches to those dreams. Still, Namjoon had a kind heart and there was no one more dedicated to fixing their wrongs than him. Hoseok presumes it was this same dedication that had brought his best friend to his doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a great big apology tumbling like vomit out of his mouth.

“They just called me to help arrange your birthday present. I promise it wasn’t any more than that.”

For what seems like the hundredth time, Namjoon rushes to explain, wearing not to subtle glimmer of delirium in his eye.

“We met up for a coffee,” Hoseok’s eyebrow twitches and though he could have sworn it was impossible, Namjoon grows a touch paler from fear. “And we only discussed you and I left the second I could!”

“So my partner called up my best friend whose actually in love with them to discuss the plans for my birthday. Me, their partner who knows that his best friend is in love with said partner.”

All Namjoon can really do is apologetically rub the back of his neck all while trying (and failing) to inconscpicously inch closer towards the doors.

“It’s messed up, I know.”

“It’s more than a little messed up, Joon,” Hoseok laughs dryly, already sensing the tepid touch of an oncoming migraine. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Immediately, Namjoon shakes his head, the glasses perched on the top of his nose threatening to simply hurtle against the wall.

“We agreed to not tell them. I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

And Hoseok does hate himself for it but he’s always wondered so why not ask while the opportunity is still fresh —

“Why did you agree?” he prods with what to him appears as a cautious hand. “You could have just told how you feel—”

But Namjoon is quick to interrupt.

“I don’t want to,” he states with no small amount of firmness. It’s the sort of resolution Hoseok has seen him wield in front of the UN, in front of difficulties he could not even comprehend. Something steel-like rests behind his gaze and Hoseok knows that whatever sort of intention Namjoon has set on you, no force of nature can lead him astray.

“I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.”

“_____________ wouldn’t look at you with—”

“Yes, they would,” Namjoon interrupts him again, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “I wouldn’t be Namjoon the leader, Namjoon the trustworthy member, Namjoon, your,” he stammers; it’s almost imperceptible alas Hoseok just knows him too well. “Your brother but I’d be small Namjoon. I’d be Namjoon the naive fool who would require kid gloves in case any remark about the happiness of your relationship would break his heart. And I don’t want that.”

Ah.

“I want ________________,” they both know it’s a poor choice of wording but none of them is brave enough to remark upon it. “In a natural way, you know. I want to be their friend, I don’t want to make things any more complicated. So, yeah, I don’t want to tell them and perhaps,” he licks at his dry lips, briefly glimpsing outside. Unbeknowst to himself Hoseok mimicks the movement, forcing the barest sliver of a smile upon Namjoon’s face. “Nah, it is selfish but it is what it is.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they stand silent and it’s painfully awkward but also…it’s good. It’s almost unbelievable but things are actually peaceful between them.

“What does ____________ has planned for my birthday?”

Namjoon cracks a wry smile.

“I ain’t telling you that.”

The ring of Hoseok’s phone cuts the lingering tension in two and like an air escaping from a pop balloon, the room grows lax.

If a bit sad.

“Hey babe,” Hoseok greets you and Namjoon simply pretends like he isn’t here to hear that. “You’re waiting outside? Yeah, I’ll get going soon. Bye. Love you too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Namjoon turns away, obstinately staring at anything just to not see what currently he does not want to see. Hoseok simply lets him be.

“I’ve got to go,” he waves around some well-meaning gesture that falls flat on comfort, already halfway there to bolt out of the door. “Will you be okay?”

He watches Namjoon scuff the shoe against the floor. It’s a tad too angry for someone who will undoubtedly insist on being utterly okay.

“Yeah, of course!” Namjoon brushes him off, feigning indifference a bit too well. “I’ll just, you know, go into my studio and write some lyrics to process my bottomless devotion to the love of your life.”

Kidding! — follows soon after.

“Sort of,” is added when Hoseok ultimately leaves the room.

JIMIN | “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Jimin…”

“Don’t you dare to pity me!”

“I’m not. Actually, quite the opposite.”

Jimin glowers at Yoongi across the rim of his glass but it doesn’t quite have the effect he pictured. Yoongi keeps on wearing the same unimpressed grimace he’d sat down with. He draws a great sigh for the upteenth time and begins again, a bit gentler, a bit more lenient.

Jimin doesn’t know which is worse — either way, he’s a hair away from bursting into tears.

“I didn’t expect you, out of all people, to think with your fists instead of your brain.”

And just like that, the tears evaporate.

“He tried to take them away,” he whispers, voice shaking from the barely concealed rage. Not even at Jungkook’s feelings per se but rather at his sheer audacity. Jimin would understand if he would just fall in love with you, he would understand, he knows how easy it was to love you, to be consumed by you but to go—!

“He went behind my back!” he cries out loudly, instantly drawing the attention to their small table. “He went and asked to be given a chance!”

The frown on Yoongi’s face deepens and seeing such an opening Jimin reaches out and does what he knows best. He pours himself a drink, knocks it down into his throat and hopes he’ll pass out soon.

Yoongi bats at his arm, steadily growing redder and redder from the frustration alone.

“Stop drinking!” he chides with an irritated hiss. “I’m not excusing Jungkook’s actions. But you know how he is.”

“And thus I’m supposed to forgive him for trying to fuck my fucking partner?!”

Once again, all eyes sit on their table as Jimin’s voice rises into an angered scream.

“Yeah, and look at you now. You’ve traded fists with your best friend, gotten yourself a busted lip and _______________ has moved out and honestly good for them. I also wouldn’t want to stand you clowns.”

“You’re supposed to be comforting me,” Jimin scoffs but receives nothing but an ill-meaning glare back.

“I’m all out.”

When at long last Jimin gets home, it’s well past three in the morning. His head is spinning and not so small part of him regrets ever drinking. The alcohol is clawing back up his throat and it doesn’t care that he’s putting a palm in front of his mouth. He’s about to vomit it all back out.

“Jesus,” a blur of a voice calls above him and Jimin finds himself being hastily carded to the toilet. He wonders who it is — it couldn't be you, you wouldn’t be able to lug him around like a roll of wet paper towels but he simply doesn’t have the time to care about it. As the next thing that comes out of his mouth is not a question poised, eloquenty or not, but a steady stream of stomach acid and half-digested fragments of his piss-poor dinner. His faceless saviour brushes the hair back from his forehead, occasionally laying an empathetic pat on his back. Though his mouth of full of bile, Jimin tries to say he appreciates it.

The sun greets him vicious and unforgiving. His head pounds and for the longest part of an hour, Jimin doesn’t even recall on how he made it back into his bed. Spotting a full glass of water and painkillers, he both chugs it all down and prays to heaven that it is you. Someone’s definitely clambering around his kitchen. The noise of a pan on a stove is unmistakanable regardless of the state he’s in.

Cautiously, Jimin pads over to the kitchen, attempting to put together at least two phrases of a genuine apology but the sight he sees only further spikes the nausea gripping him whole.

Unless you suddenly grew a mullet, got an armful of tattoos, a lip piercing and a cosmetic surgery, he’s fairly sure that it isn’t you standing by a stove and cooking a pan of eggs but one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook the traitor.

Jeon Jungkook the one Jimin thought was a friend.

Best friend in fact.

In spite of how hard Jimin tries to eviscerate Jungkook with his glare, he cannot help but cringe as the man whips around, showcasing his black eye. Instinctually, Jimin runs a tongue over his lip. It still hurts.

There is a pregnant pause during which they don’t speak, merely stay in their respective corners of the room. Jungkook shifts from one foot to another, white knuckling the handle of the pan.

“I made you some eggs,” he splutters, hopefully presenting the food. Ever so slowly, Jimin lowers his gaze towards them and quirks a brow in order to show just how unfettered he is by it.

“I’ll vomit them back in your face,” he states coldly and Jungkook all but withers into himself.

“Listen, man, I know that I overstepped some boundaries—”

“Some?!” at once, Jimin has to clutch at his head to make sure it simply does not implode.

“All of the boundaries,” he corrects. "And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I betrayed your trust and __________’s trust, and I know that neither of you owe me your forgiveness.”

Jimin pries open one of his eyelids — it’s swollen and laced with sleep but even so he knows Jungkook and he knows Jungkook wasn’t capable of lying.

He truly is sorry.

“Why the change of heart?” Jimin barks mistrustfully. “Since when do you care for anything but yourself?”

It’s a low blow but damn if it does not delight him, to hurt Jungkook just as much as Jimin was hurt.

“________________,” Jungkook sighs, his nose scrunching up at what is certainly a recollection of some exceedingly sour memories. “Chewed me the fuck out. They said—” his breath hitches. In a still moment between one breath and the next, there is a single, utterly pathethic plea ringing in Jimin’s ears—

Please, dont take them away from me

“They said they were disgusted by me.”

He has to physically bite his tongue to not say “I’m sorry”. It’s just as instinctual for him to comfort Jungkook as it is for their younger one to seek that same comfort. For a brief moment, he sees a much younger Jungkook. A much younger Jungkook come to beg for understanding and Jimin himself, feels much younger. Much more ill-equipped to deal with Jungkook’s fragile heart.

But that moment disappears and with it the breadth of his anger.

It’s churning, he knows it is, he doesn’t deny it but he reckons that step by step, day by cautious day they’ll be able to calll each other friends again and greet you back home, inhabiting their rightful roles.

You would say they're a broken pot with its cracks glued by gold.

Yoongi would say they’re fucking morons.

TAEHYUNG | Dearest ____________________,

Let me preface this by saying, I know it’s inappropriate and I know it’s unfair for me to spring this on you. I must seem like a coward to you and that’s beacause I am one. Million times I must have tried to tell you, to be able to say IT to your face but I just can’t. I don’t care what you do with this letter, burn it if you must, destroy it if it brings you peace but a part of me reasons that people deserve to know when one loves them and so I tell you.

I love you.

I love you insanely. I love you devoutly but most of all I want to love you selflessly so I won’t ask of you anything don’t worry. I won’t ask of you to meet me, I won’t ask of you to let me down, gently or otherwise, I won’t ask of you to even look at me. I burn for you, I yearn for you but I also know you love Taehyung. I see your love for him as clear as I see my own so I understand I don’t have a place in your life. I don’t even dare to ask of you such a thing.

You may wonder why even write this at all? Well, for me this is a speech. A speech one would give at a funeral. I scream and I vomit all that I feel and with it, with every stroke of this stupid pen I hammer in a nail into a coffin of all the fondness I hold for you. With any luck, I’ll be able to return to it rarer and rarer until at last it’s swallowed by moss and will lay unrecognizable. With any luck, the scar will heal and will be just that — a painless scar left by idiocy of youth.

I don’t want you to find me, I don’t want you to know me, all I want is for you and Taehyung to be happy. Oh, Taehyung, if only I could also say how sorry I am for ever letting him down.

So please be happy _______________. Be the happiest a person has ever been so I can rest easy and breathe a little easier each day, knowing that none of us has made a grave mistake.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer.

Quite the letter, Taehyung reckons, closing it shut once he finishes tracing the inked lines. The thick black of the room is cut only by the orange flames licking at the firewood in the old fireplace. Glancing quietly across the shoulder, he finds you sleeping soundly on the hotel bed, hair splattered messily across the pillowcase. Taehyung supresses a deep sigh of relief before turning back with a heavy frown etched upon his face.

He took you away just in time, whoever this secret admirer was, he clearly held something more than a casual crush. When did he have the time to slip this into your bag, Taehyung did not know but it scared the shit out of him. The only people who both knew of his sudden trip to France and had the opportunity to see you were his members. His friends. His brothers. Which meant that one of them betrayed him. For one of them your name on their lips was not something easy to be spoken. For one of them your name was a benediction, meant to be sighed in shameful isolation.

The poetics said Namjoon but don’t find me said Yoongi. Loving insanely was Jungkook wanting to love selflessly was Jimin. But who could possibly know — maybe it was Hoseok, maybe it was Jin — Taehyung certainly didn’t.

He gazed down onto the thin paper, lips curling in distaste. Whoever he was, he should have just kept it to himself. For the first time, Taehyung was happy in his relationship, secure even and here he comes, one of his family, tearing it down.

Perhaps he should do what this admirer said — forget about it. No one wants to hate their family, right?

Yes, he thinks to himself, I’ll forget about. I’ll try really, really hard.

It was a good letter, beautiful even, he has to admit that much.

Shame though, he doesn’t hesitate to toss it into the flames, ______________won’t ever read it.

JUNGKOOK | “Baby, please.”

Jungkook loathes the fact at how weak he grows underneath your touch. Where others would give him a wide berth, all in fear of incuring a foul mood, you merely have to wrap your arms around his back and he feels the tension unlatching its jaw from his shoulders.

“Just talk to Jin.”

“Don’t even mention his name,” he growls, trying to sound pissed but his body has a mind of its own. It reaches to tug you closer around him, almost frightened that should he let you go for just a second, he could lose you.

“He came forward with how he felt,” you reason slowly, cautiously. “He was honest and just let it all out.”

“He should have choked with it,” Jungkook refutes. You don’t buy it.

“You don’t mean that.”

Jungkook knows you know he knows he doesn’t mean it but for the time being he just wants to be angry.

He turns to look over his shoulder, finding you nuzzled into his spine, swaying slighty from left to right. His heart swells with all this…love he held for you. Whatever Jin held was nothing but a cheap copy, a fling, a failure of the brain.

“You’re mine, got it,” he tries to warn you but you all but laugh at the pout in his tone. “I don’t care how handsome you think Jin is, you promised me forever first. Finders keepers and all that.”

“You’re a bit delusional, you know that?” you rub your nose against his jumper, spectacularly failing at trying to supress the smirk fighting its way onto your face.

“So what?” he scoffs, turning to scrub the dishes with far more vigour than neccessary. “It makes me happy.”

But your voice of “just talk to Jin” doesn’t leave the side of his ear. Like an overzealous mosquito it buzzes around his head at all hours of the day, at all hours of the night, round and round until Jungkook swears it makes his nose bleed.

It’s well past midnight when he finally musters up the courage to press the dial button to Jin’s number. His knee refuses to sit still and behind his back he’s crossing his fingers hoping that his friend will be asleep.

He is not.

When Jin replies with a timid “hello” he is surprisingly coherent as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“_______________ told me to give you a call,” Jungkook grouses instead of a greeting and the other line of the phone grows uncomfortably quiet.

“They’re too kind,” Jin whispers and Jungkook certainly agrees on it.

He taps his leg, bites his lip, looks at you for guidance — you’re asleep on his bed, practically knocked out because Jungkook just had to…show his love for you — and none of it helps him to get over this sudden knot growing at the base of his throat.

However, Jin beats it to him.

“I know I said it already,” he mutters miserably, voice crackingi across the connection. “But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry for doing this to you Jungkook. I wish nothing but happiness for you and _______________.”

They cry, they curse, they share their love for you and some three hours later it’s somewhat easier to breathe. The days, the weeks that Jungkook couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares of his light being stolen away, are wiped away with a cool hand and he rejoices in the comfort it provides. He doesn’t say I love you to Jin, he’s not yet ready for that but he knows Jin knows and he knows that Jin knows that he knows.

For now he just wants to sleep. Putting the phone away, Jungkook drops himself back into the pillow,  heaving a drawn-out sigh up against the black ceiling. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your neck “good night” as he always does. It’ll be alright, he reminds himself, surprisingly, it’ll all be just fine.

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 © soraviie, 2023

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