Keeping It Discreet

The phone on your nightstand buzzes again for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His name lights up the screen, face flashing along with it. You remember that photo; taken on that night he first said “I love you”, face half hidden behind a mask, the cap on his head pushed down low. But his eyes though; they had been burning with emotion as he stared deep into yours as if words alone were not enough to convey how much he felt for you. Now, you look at the picture and flip the phone over face down, unable to answer and face him. Not yet, anyway. 

After that initial call, you start to withdraw. Calls that you had always been excited to get would be left to ring for a long time before you could muster the courage to answer. Texts that you waited on would be left unread or replied late. You gave excuses that sounded weak even to your own ears. Busy schedules seemed insignificant compared to him but Jimin, if he had been suspicious, did not question you. Guilt tightened in your chest and the longer you build the silence, the harder it gets to talk to him.

Today, you’ve let the phone rang unanswered, texts unopened. 

When you startled awake at the sound of pounding on your front door, it almost seemed like you expected it. You glance at the clock as you pass by it to the entrance, checking the doorbell camera anyway as if you didn’t know who it was at this late hour. You open the door to a breathless Jimin, the mask hanging from one ear, hoodie up over his head. He doesn’t wait for you to let him in, barrelling past you into your apartment like he’s angry.

He is, hands in fists on his side as he whirls around to face you. His face is distraught, eyes red and glassy. “Please.” His voice is low but you hear the hurt in it and it twists your heart. You finally take him in: hair a little damp, his shirt sweat-soaked and still in the shoes he only wears for dance practice. He looks like he ran all the way here right after rehearsal. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

You feign ignorance. “Jimin, what are you doing here? It’s two in the morning.”

Jimin shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t- Why are you doing this?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you pushing me away?” he grits his teeth and you watch his jaw grinds. 

You lick your drying lips. “I told you. I…I just need some space.”

“Oh, god,” he whispers, hands flying to his head, pushing his hair back in exasperation. His voice shakes and your chest squeezes at the sound of it.

“For what?” The words hit like a plea as he looks up again, the tears threatening to fall down his cheeks anytime now. You swallow the lump in your throat, wanting nothing more than to cross the gap between the two of you and take him in your arms like you’ve done so many times in the past. But something holds you back. Jimin’s eyes search yours like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he looks away. “Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me what I have to do to fix it. I’ll do it. Just- don’t push me away.”

You sigh heavily, heart so worn out. You plop down on one of the dining room chairs, head in between your hands. “It’s…it’s not you, Jimin. It’s me.” For a moment, he doesn’t speak, waiting; giving you a moment to explain further. “I…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“What do you mean?” he prompts.

You look up at him, torn between wanting him to understand and yet accepting that you’re both stuck between a rock and a hard place. “I know I said I could. In the beginning. I thought I could. But…” you pause, sighing, the words heavy on your lips. “It’s hard.”

Jimin looks at you imploringly, still standing in the middle of your tiny kitchen and dining area. His presence alone somewhat feels too big for this place, like he doesn’t belong, as if he hasn’t sat down at that same dining table eating your home-cooked food or lounged on your secondhand sofa playing video games with you or slept in your narrow queen-sized bed on some weekends. 

“That video-” you start but he cuts you off.

“No,” he says, his voice hardening. “I told you the video meant nothing. She was just someone I knew. Someone I thought I could trust back then. I told you this.” His tone changed to a bit like pleading rather than chastising at the end.

“I know,” you agree, nodding but not believing. “But that video…it made me question things.” You avoid his gaze, unable to look him in the eye. What a coward you are. When he doesn’t say anything, you continue. “Out of all the people you could have, why me? Why would you be with me when-”

Don’t you ever-” His voice is hoarse, breaking. “Don’t you ever say that again. I chose you. I choose you every day. Do you understand?”

You wrap your arms around yourself, nails digging into your skin. You purse your lips together to keep them from trembling, looking at anywhere but him. Frustrated, Jimin crosses the space between you, the physical one, and sinks onto his knees at your feet. He takes your hands in his and presses them to his lips, one knuckle at a time. Your eyes sting from holding back tears. 

Shaking your head as if denying him, you tell him the honest truth. “I’m not enough, Jimin.”

He flinches like you stabbed him. His forehead presses against your knuckles, his breath uneven. “Tell me what you need, baby. Tell me what you need me to do to convince you that you are. More than enough.” He looks up then, cheeks wet. “I can’t lose you.”

You gasp in air to breathe, your chest feeling like suffocating instead. “Time,” you choke out. “I need time. Give me time, Jimin.”

The hand on the clock ticks on relentlessly in the silence. Then, he finally answers. “Okay. Okay, if that’s what you need.” He presses his forehead in your lap. “I’ll wait for however long it takes.”

The room feels too small for how much it hurts. You swallow hard, reaching to brush your fingers through his hair, remembering how he loves you playing with it. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, like he’s memorizing it. “Just promise me one thing,” he adds, bringing his eyes up to you. “That you come find me when you’re ready.”

You nod your head, lips trembling through the smile you give him as reassurance. 

He leans up slowly, pressing the gentlest kiss to your forehead; a promise carved into skin. His arms wrap around you one last time, pulling you against his chest, and for a moment, you want to beg him to stay, to take back your words and just forget about everything. It would’ve been easy but it wouldn’t have been right either.

So you let go first. 

He steps back, eyes glassy, lips trembling like he’s holding back words that would break both of you. He gives a shaky nod, turns, and leaves.

The door clicks shut.

You slide down against it, knees pulled to your chest, and finally let yourself break, the sobs tearing free in the quiet you once thought was safe.

And on the other side of the wall, in the elevator descending into the night, Jimin staggers on his feet, shoulders shaking. His eyes are red, his lips pressed tight, but nothing can stop the way his heart trembles as if it’s shattering inside his chest.

~~~

Exactly one year and six months ago, your friend had dragged you to a housewarming party.

“She works for BTS,” Maya had said, like it was supposed to convince you. 

And it had, somehow.

The apartment had been packed wall-to-wall with people laughing too loudly, clinking glasses, taking selfies in every corner. You remember feeling out of place, hovering near the edge of the room, clutching your drink like it could anchor you. Your friend had disappeared to the kitchen to help out the host, leaving you to fend for yourself among a crowd of strangers who all seemed to know each other. The language barrier also didn’t help to make it easy for you to integrate into any of the conversations, your Korean still rusty. 

And then you saw him.

Park Jimin. Not on a stage, not on a screen. Just… him. Standing a little off to the side, listening politely as someone spoke to him, sipping quietly at a drink. Three seconds: that was how long you let yourself stare before moving away. You thought you’d keep your distance. He was untouchable, after all.

Yet somehow, fifteen minutes later, as you stood on the balcony feeling the cool wind against your cheeks, the balcony door had opened and closed almost too quickly. Jimin stood there next to you, leaning against the railing, breathing a sigh of relief. You started to leave, deciding to give him the space to decompress but he stopped you. 

“You don’t look like you want to be in there either,” he’d said softly. “Stay. I can share the balcony if you promise not to tell.” 

There was a playfulness to his tone and just like that, the night stopped being unbearable. You found yourself tucked away with him on that balcony, talking quietly while the party roared on inside. The topics were ordinary: the weather, your job, how he secretly hated crowded rooms. He didn’t feel larger than life then. He just felt human, a man only a couple of years younger than you.

When you went home later, you thought that was it. A random, fleeting conversation you’d keep in your pocket as a funny memory and a great anecdote to tell at the next dinner party. But when you emptied your bag later that night, a folded slip of paper fluttered out: his number with the initials PJM under it. 

It’s a prank, you told yourself, convinced that it was your friend who had put that paper there. She had seen you coming back into the room with him, laughing quietly together and had sidled over to ask. She didn’t say much, only smiled knowingly. 

So, you called the number without hesitance, ready to catch your friend in the act. It was answered after the third ring. “Ha-ha,” you had said sarcastically. “Nice try, Maya. Did you think I wouldn’t know it’s you?”

There was a pause and a man’s voice answered. “Um, I think you’re mistaken.”

Instantly, your heart flipped. You recognise that voice anywhere.

After a few back and forth, you explaining what you meant with that opening line and him clarifying that it was indeed him who put his number into her bag, the conversation concluded that his intention was to get some private English tutoring. 

You almost laughed at how transparent it was, but you said yes anyway. And for weeks, it was just that: sitting across from him, books between you, his cheeks pink when he stumbled over words. But then there were the small things. The jokes that lingered, the coffee runs that stretched too long, the way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t looking. You realized you were looking forward to his mistakes just to hear him laugh at himself.

It bloomed slowly, quietly, until one day his hand brushed yours and neither of you pulled back.

From there, the world changed. Secret dates. Late-night walks in empty streets, hoodies pulled low, hands hidden in pockets but fingers still finding each other’s. Stolen moments in between busy schedules. Whispered laughter in the dark. Happiness that always had to be hidden. 

You told yourself it was worth it. That secrecy was the price of having him. That being invisible was fine as long as he was yours. You told yourself it didn’t matter if no one knew, because he knew, and you knew. That was enough.

Until now.

Now, with one rumor, one careless headline, the fragile world you’d protected feels like it’s crumbling. You’ve given everything to keep your love private, quiet, safe. And yet someone else could walk freely into the spotlight and stand beside him without fear, real or not. 

It makes you feel small. Invisible. Replaceable.

And maybe that’s what terrifies you the most. Because you love him; you love him so much it aches, but maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe you aren’t enough.

These days, all you think about is that he deserves the world and you can’t give it to him. You don’t know if you ever could. The differences between you and him look so stark then, the large gap between your statuses in society looming over you like a maw ready to swallow you whole.

That’s why you’re pulling away. Not because you want to. But because you’re not sure if you’re strong enough to stay.

Meanwhile, miles away, Jimin is unraveling in your silence. For the first time in his life, he understands why people write songs about love like it’s oxygen, why losing it feels like suffocating. Because somewhere between those “innocent” tutoring sessions and the laughter that spilled past midnight, he found it. He found you.

And now, just when he knows you’re the one, he’s about to lose you.

~~~

It’s half past three in the morning when Namjoon hears the rapid ringing of his doorbell being pressed in succession. 

Having been at his desk, writing, he immediately heads to the door, frowning, wondering who it is at this hour, cursing all the way. He forgot to check the doorbell camera, flinging the door wide open, only to stall, the irritation bleeding out at the sight in front of him.

“Hyung…”

Jimin stands there, swaying slightly, the sharp smell of whiskey clinging to him. His eyes are bloodshot, lips trembling, face pale under the hallway light.

Namjoon’s chest tightened. Without a word, he steps aside, allowing the younger man to stumble in. The moment the door closes, Jimin collapses onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shake once, twice, before a ragged sound tears out of him.

“Hyung, I think I lost her.”

Namjoon didn’t ask who. He already knows. He moves quietly, fetching a glass of water, setting it on the table. “Talk to me.”

And Jimin does.

The words spill out in broken fragments, tripping over each other, a flood he can’t stop even if he wants to. He tells Namjoon everything: the beginning at the party where they’d met, the little slip of paper in her bag, the tutoring that wasn’t tutoring, the late-night dates, the hidden kisses, the laughter that no one else got to hear. He talks about how careful they’d been, how hard she tried to keep it private, how guilty he felt for letting her shoulder the weight of secrecy.

And then he breaks, confessing how much he hates himself for the rumor, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. How her silence is eating him alive. How the look on her face tonight when she said she wasn’t enough made him feel like he was the one crumbling, not her.

“I can’t lose her, hyung,” Jimin whispers, voice cracking. His hands clench in his lap until his knuckles turn white. “I- she’s it. She’s the one. I didn’t even know what love was until her, and now I can’t-” His voice fails him, the sob that follows ripping out of his chest like it had been waiting for hours.

Namjoon sits there, watching the strongest parts of Jimin unravel. He’d seen him tired, stressed, frustrated, but never this. Never undone.

“You love her,” Namjoon says quietly. Not a question. A truth.

Jimin nods desperately, tears streaking down his face. “More than anything. And she thinks she’s not enough. But she’s everything. How do I make her believe that? How do I-” His voice breaks again, collapsing into silence.

Namjoon exhales, heavy and long. He doesn’t have an answer. Not yet. But one thing was clear: Jimin wasn’t just hurting. He was drowning.

The next few days are pure torture for Namjoon to watch. At practice, Jimin’s movements are sharp but empty, his focus scattered. During interviews, his smile barely reaches his eyes, sometimes not even listening to questions and the other members had to step up. In meetings, he drifts away, staring blankly until someone nudges him back. He doesn’t touch his food and when Taehyung and Jungkook crack jokes, Jimin doesn’t laugh.

The others start to notice. They didn’t ask, not directly. But the way Hoseok watches him with quiet worry, the way Yoongi lingers after rehearsals, the way Taehyung presses a water bottle into his hand without a word; they all know. Though they never met you, they’ve heard of you: in casual conversations Jimin would drop and through photos that, after much insistence, he would show, beaming softly when they called him lucky because you were way too beautiful for him. Now, there are no longer whispered phone calls or him smiling quietly at a text, or disappearing in the night. 

Something must have happened.

Namjoon carries the weight of knowing the full truth, keeping it to himself as he feels it isn’t his story to tell. The image of Jimin on his couch at 3AM, shaking, broken, whispering she’s the one is burned into his chest. He knows he has to do something because if he doesn’t, Jimin isn’t going to just lose you. He’s going to lose himself. 

The first weeks nearly destroy him.

Everyone can see it; the way Jimin drags himself into practice, moving on instinct alone, his eyes hollow no matter how bright the lights are. He stares at his phone too often, thumb hovering over your name like he could will you to appear. He never presses it. He never calls.

The shared apartment, the one they choose to stay at when their schedules are full, feels heavier when he’s inside it. Quieter, even when Hoseok tries to fill the silence with laughter.

The others don’t ask outright, but they try. Jin leaves food at his door, pretending it’s nothing. Yoongi mutters, “Your timing’s off,” during rehearsal, his voice sharp because concern doesn’t suit him any other way. Taehyung takes him on long drives at night, windows down, music loud, just to make him breathe again. Hoseok even takes him home to his parents in Gwangju because Jimin is looking gaunt. He barely eats these days.

Namjoon says the least. But he watches the most. He watches the way Jimin’s grip tightens on his phone whenever it buzzes, the way his smile flickers out too quickly, like a candle in the wind. He watches the way Jimin’s body slumps the moment no one is looking.

One night after practice, Yoongi corners him. “You can’t keep doing this,” he says bluntly. “If you’re waiting, then wait. But stop killing yourself in the meantime.”

The words hit hard. But they anchor him.

So Jimin does what he promised. He waits.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks bleed into months.

Six months.

Onstage, he is fine. He smiles, he laughs, he delivers. The world sees perfection and believes it. But in the quiet of his apartment, he is unraveling.

Nights are the worst. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling until the walls close in, until his chest aches with everything he’s not saying. Sometimes he sits hunched over his phone, scrolling through your social media with trembling hands.

There you are, through his phone. He watches all your instastories; the coffee pictures, the random photos of sidewalk flowers, your students’ arts and crafts, the one time you walked down the beach at night, making him wonder if you had been thinking of him and that night that he had drove you to a beach just like that and you two had sat on a picnic mat under the stars, counting constellations, fingers laced together.

Each post slices him open. Each picture without him is proof you don’t need him anymore. Proof he’s outside of your world now. He dies a little each time, whispering to himself, If she’s fine without me, I should let her go.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. Because he loves you. And he promised that he’ll wait.

Across the city, you’re drowning too.

Morning feels impossible. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, body heavy with the weight of absence. Even moving hurts. Nights are worse, the hours stretching endless, your chest clenching until tears slip silently into the pillow. The worst part is the memories in your head. You could delete the texts and the photos and contact number but you couldn’t erase the images in your head; the way Jimin throws back his head when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, the softness in the way he says your name like it’s a secret he wants to keep only for himself, the I love you’s he would whisper in the quiet moments you shared like an oath. 

You think about calling him more times than you can count. You hold the phone, thumb hovering over his name, heart begging to hear his voice. Just once. But you always stop. You always put the phone down.

Because the thought repeats itself like poison: If I give him enough time, he’ll move on. He’ll realize he deserves better. He’ll prove me right; that I don’t belong in his life.

So you let the silence stand. Even if it kills you. Even if it means swallowing your pain until it feels like your ribs are cracking under the weight of it, unknowing that he’s breaking in the same way, that he’s awake at the same hours, scrolling, aching, whispering promises to himself in the dark.

And the cruelest part is this: both of you believe you’re protecting the other when all you’re really doing… is destroying yourselves.

Ego is truly a killer. 

~~~

The summer was supposed to help.

That’s what you told yourself when you packed your bags and flew home. Distance, new air, a different sky; maybe if you put oceans between you and the memories, it would hurt less. But grief doesn’t obey geography. Jimin still found you in every quiet moment, every empty room.

Your parents didn’t pry, though you caught the way they studied you sometimes, like they could see the cracks you tried to hide. You were thankful for their silence. You wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. For some odd reason, your mother didn’t even ask if you were going to attend the BTS encore concert back in Korea. It was as if she knew by some motherly instinct that it’s related. 

And for the most part, you managed to keep away from anything and everything Jimin. You deleted social media, every last one of them, in an attempt to drown out the noise. You did great; you met up with friends, caught up on their lives while you remained vague, took your parents to dinner every weekend and hung out at the beach with a book instead of scrolling through your phone. You were fine.

Until now.

You land back in Seoul, weary from travel, and drag your suitcase through the sliding doors toward arrivals. The airport is alive with chatter and movement, the tide of travelers spilling in all directions. You adjust the strap of your bag, adjust your mask because you couldn’t be bothered with make up today, not when you had spent seven hours on a plane and your only goal is to get to your bed at home. 

Then you see him.

You stop. Your body forgets how to breathe.

Jimin.

He’s only a few steps ahead, flanked by the other members, staff weaving around them, the whole group moving as one toward the final gate. His hair falls in soft waves around his face, cap pulled low, mask in place but you’d know him anywhere. You’d know the tilt of his shoulders, the way he carries his tiredness, the quiet heaviness pressed into his frame.

And then his gaze lifts and finds you.

The noise of the airport fades. The ground feels unsteady.

You expect him to look away, to let this moment pass like a stranger’s glance but he doesn’t. He changes direction, just slightly, and suddenly he’s walking toward you.

Your throat closes. You grip your suitcase handle tighter to keep from shaking.

“Hey,” he says when he’s close enough. His voice is low, soft, hesitant. Careful.

“Hey,” you whisper back, the word scraping out of you like it had been waiting there all along.

There’s a pause, heavy, stretching. His eyes trace over you, quick but consuming as if checking if you’re real, if you’re whole. As if memorizing you all over again.

“How are you?” he asks, and it’s too ordinary for what it costs him to say it.

You force a smile, though your lips tremble. “I’m… okay. You?”

He huffs a laugh; small, humorless. “Busy. Tired.”

“Tour?” you ask as if you didn’t know.

“Mm.” He nods. His gaze flicks briefly to the floor, then back to you, and it’s like gravity pulling you under.

It should be simple. It should end there. But neither of you moves.

You shift your weight, your fingers brushing against your suitcase handle and for a second, his hand twitches, like he almost reaches out before stopping himself. The restraint is louder than if he’d touched you.

There are words unspoken between you, loud and desperate, pressing against the thin walls you’ve both built. How are you really? Did you miss me? Do you still love me? But you both swallow them down. It’s safer that way.

Someone calls his name, probably a staff. His members glance back, waiting. Their watchful eyes are trained on you, on him. Namjoon lingers closer almost as if he’s prepared to catch Jimin should he fall. He doesn’t look too steady on his feet at the moment.

Jimin hasn't moved yet. His eyes are locked on yours like he can’t quite make himself leave. His lips part like he’s about to say something more, something real, but he closes them again, jaw tightening.

“I should go,” he says finally.

“Yeah,” you manage. Your chest aches. “Take care.”

He nods slowly. “You too.”

And then, just before he turns, before he walks back toward the waiting chaos, he hesitates again. His fingers graze yours. Barely. Accidental enough to deny, deliberate enough that you feel it down to your bones. It lasts less than a heartbeat. Enough to ruin you all over again.

Then he’s gone.

You stand there, frozen, the echo of his touch still burning in your skin. You watch him disappear through the glass doors, swallowed by the roar of fans and cameras.

You turn away, dragging your suitcase toward the trains. The crowd swallows you too, but the ache stays, the spark he left behind flickering recklessly in your chest.

And you know. You know in a way that terrifies you.

This isn’t over. Not for him. Not for you.

~~~

The final night of the tour feels different from the start. Seoul hums with an electricity that even the members can’t ignore. Three nights back-to-back, but tonight is the finale. The encore. The last curtain call before months of silence.

Jimin stands in the green room surrounded by mirrors and noise: stylists rushing, staff calling, the others quietly hyping each other up, but all he can hear is his own heartbeat. He stares at himself under the sharp glow of the vanity bulbs, his reflection hollow-eyed despite the makeup covering it. His lips move before he realizes it: If she were here, I’d find her. I always did.

The show begins. The roar of the stadium swallows him whole, and for three hours he gives everything: his voice, his body, his smile. Every lyric, every step, every laugh he throws into the crowd feels like it’s meant for her. He scans the faces, thousands upon thousands, lights waving like purple stars; but no matter how hard he wills it, no matter how many times he tells himself just one more look, maybe she’s there, he never finds her.

And then the end-ment comes, the one before they go back to prepare for the final encore.

Backstage, it’s just as loud as the staff and production team run around calling out time. He drags his body into the changing room with the others, muscles aching, throat raw, heart heavier than ever. The staff offer words of motivation. It’s the last spurt, the last three songs before the curtains finally close for good, ending this chapter in their career. 

Jimin is fixing the accessories he had chosen to wear together with the merch outfits. There’s an ache in his chest. As he looks into the mirror one last time, the staff calling out cue time once again, he sees you through the reflection. A backstage pass hangs around your neck, and in your arms is a bouquet of Rose of Sharon, blooms soft and trembling under the fluorescent lights. His favorite.

For a second, Jimin thinks he’s hallucinating. He blinks once, twice, but you don’t vanish. You’re really there, looking at him with a weak, nervous smile that makes his chest ache.

The others notice too, though they pretend not to. Namjoon lingers a little longer nearby, shooting you an appreciative smile that you had actually come, the pass around your neck a gift from him. Yoongi fiddles with his hand by the doorway, Taehyung drapes a towel over his neck and studies the floor. They hover, protective but distant, ready to step in if this shatters Jimin further.

But they don’t need to.

Because Jimin takes one step forward. Then another. And another.

So do you.

Time fractures. Sound dulls. The world narrows to just you.

Jimin doesn’t remember moving, only that you’re suddenly closer, close enough for him to see the way your hands tremble around the flowers, close enough to see your eyes shine with tears you’re trying to hold back.

Jimin opens his mouth, breath shaky, ready to beg, ready to confess, ready to fall to his knees if he has to. But you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry.”

Two words. That’s all.

And his world breaks.

The flowers tumble between you as he crashes forward, falling into your arms like he’s been falling all along, only now, finally, finally, you catch him. His face presses into your shoulder, sobs ripping through him, raw and unrestrained. Your arms circle him, tight, trembling, desperate.

For the first time in months, he can breathe. For the first time in months, he isn’t alone.

The world outside can wait. The cameras, the fans, the stage, the noise; none of it matters. Because you’re here, and he’s here, and that’s enough.

More than enough.

He steps back, eyes never leaving yours, but the staff is desperate now; gesturing, urging, their voice strained as they beg the members to return. The encore is about to begin.

“Go,” you whisper, but Jimin doesn’t move. His body leans toward you like a magnet, stubborn, unwilling. And as if you can hear the words he doesn’t say, you add softly, with a trembling smile, “I’ll be backstage after the show. I promise. Go.”

The word promise makes his chest tighten, because for the first time in months, it doesn’t sound like goodbye.

He finally lets out a shaky breath, squeezing your hands so tightly as if trying to memorize the warmth of your skin, trying to prove to himself that you’re real. Then, with a reverence that makes your throat burn, he presses his lips to yours—a long, lingering kiss that speaks all the words he hasn’t managed to say.

When he pulls away, he jogs after Jungkook, but not without glancing back once, then twice, eyes desperate to keep you in his sight until the very last possible second. You lift your hand in a small wave, your heart swelling, and he breaks into the faintest smile before vanishing into the blinding stage lights.

The encore begins, and for the first time in countless nights, Jimin sings without the weight that has been dragging him down. His voice carries differently; lighter, freer, alive. The members notice it instantly: the looseness in his shoulders, the way his eyes no longer search the crowd in vain, the way his voice doesn’t crack under the strain of grief but rises steady, clear, full.

That night, Jimin sings for the fans; for the love and devotion that brought him here, for the bruises and sacrifices of a world tour finally reaching its end. But above all, he sings for you.

For the one who has always been both his wound and his cure.

For the heart he thought he had lost but has now found again, waiting just beyond the stage.

And with every note, with every word, his soul whispers the truth he can no longer hide:

He is whole again.

 Full of hope.

 Full of you.

Jin flashed you a cheeky smile. “I hope you three are not planning anything indecent in the house while the others are gone,” he said, watching your face turn red as your eyes went wide with panic.

“He knows,” Yoongi whispered in your ear. “It’s alright.”

“Wh-what?” you stammered. Jin’s eyebrows raised. Did they not tell you? Should’ve he said nothing? He didn’t mean to put you in the spotlight. As much as he thought Hoseok and Yoongi were being stupid and reckless, he didn’t hold it against you. They should’ve known better than to play with a lady’s heart, much less with a beautiful one like yours. 

Jin paused his thoughts. Well, he wasn’t wrong. You were beautiful, he’d give Hoseok and Yoongi that. Which makes even less sense that Hoseok would even dream about sharing you. If it was him, he’s keep you locked up in his room for only his eyes to-

There it was again. To be honest, he’s never seen anyone with your type of beauty before, the kind that seemed to be haunting the more he looked; calling out to him like intrusive whispers in his ears. He’s met countless women that would’ve been a sea of roses compared to your quiet daisy-like charm, had had his pick and courted a few of them even, and yet you, the one Hoseok had claimed first…

As Hoseok, Yoongi and you engaged in a furious bout of whispering, Jin distracted himself by getting a drink, his movements deliberate and slow to give them some space. It wasn’t his first time seeing you and yet this time he needed to get his thoughts in order. They were all over the place and Seokjin was a tidy man. Still is. 

When the furious under-breaths talk finally subsided, Jin turned around, feigning nonchalance as he put his plans into motion. “So,” he said, looking at the three of them. “I don’t know what your plans were but Yoongi, aren’t you supposed to be joining Jungkook at that timber council?”

He watched as Yoongi’s eyes grew wide in alarm. It doesn’t take him long to disappear out the door again in a cloud of dust, mumbling curses as he went. Now how does he get rid of Hoseok? But that problem solved itself, much to Jin’s relief.

“Shit,” Hoseok cursed. “I promised Taehyung I’d help him at the shop.”

“Today?” you frowned in concern. “But isn’t that tomorrow?”

“The same day as Kook’s timber council, that’s how I remembered it,” replied Hoseok as he gathered up his things. “Sorry, love.” He planted a soft kiss on your temple. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

The silence that followed was awkward to say the least, as you shuffled from one foot to the next, contemplating on what to do. “I guess I’ll go, too,” you murmured without looking at the oldest brother. 

“Why? Stay. Let me get to know you better. Since you’re dating my brother. Ss.” Jin offered with a smile. “Come. Sit. I’ll make you a cup of tea. Do you like whiskey in it?”

“Pardon?”

Jin laughed. “I jest. Don’t worry, no whiskey for you, little one.”

“I can drink,” you retorted and Jin noticed the pout on your lips, the pout that he’ll grow to love one day. You joined him to watch what he made. He moved around the kitchen almost fluidly, flitting from the cabinet to grab one thing and then coming back to add them into the tall jar of dark brown liquid. Tea, you supposed, but couldn't be sure because of the smell from the whiskey bottle that was opened next to it. 

Jin took out two mugs and poured out the tea. He handed one to you but not without noticing the way you glanced at the opened bottle of whiskey briefly before taking a small sip, smacking your lips to taste it. Jin smirked behind the rim of his own mug. “Come, come,” he called, leading you to the back of the house. “Walk with me, little one.”

You tried but Jin’s legs were longer.  Every one of his strides equal to two quick steps of yours as you desperately prevented the tea from sloshing too aggressively against the side of the mug. When he finally stopped, you’re standing a few feet away from a small creek that seemed to be coming out of the woods and running across the land towards the direction of town. 

“Can you swim?” 

Jin watched as your eyebrows arched in surprise at his random question. “Yes,” you replied but it sounded more like a question. The look on your face tickled him so he asked, “Would you like to? Right now?”

It took you five whole seconds (Jin counted) to finally gasp out, “No!”

Jin laughed, one hand on his side. Again, your answer had a rising tone at the end and it amused him. It was like you weren’t even sure of your own answer even if the look on your face told him that you think he’d lost his marbles. It’s the middle of fall and although it was a sunny warm day, the wind still had a nipping chill to it everytime it blew through your hair. 

“Calm down,” said Jin with a smile. “I’m jesting.”

“You jest a lot, sir,” you said with a pout, eyes glancing back towards the water. For a brief moment, Jin thought he saw a twinkle in your eyes, like the thought of actually going into the water did cross your mind and it made him curious. Curious about you. Curious for you. 

Jin approached you, standing side by side close enough that your skirt brushed his fingers every time it fluttered in the wind. The fabric was soft and Jin found himself wondering if your skin would be softer. For a brief moment, an emotion he didn’t recognise flared inside his chest; hot and red at the thought of Hoseok and Yoongi being able to freely hold your hand if they wanted to. He fisted his fingers, nails digging into his palm as he smiled at you, a smile that made you blush and turn away instantly, heart fluttering. 

Jin looked back towards the water at his feet. A question formed in his head and he opened his mouth to ask you, hesitating only once, thinking it might be cruel. But his curiosity got the better of him. “If Hoseok and Yoongi were drowning,” he said, arranging his words carefully, “which one would you save first?”

You slowly turned to look at him, your face a mixture of surprise and confused at the sudden yet morbid question. You studied his face but Jin didn’t give anything away as he waited for your answer. 

“That’s like asking who I love more, my mother or father,” you said quietly. Jin shrugged his shoulders. “But I have neither,” you continued. “So…”

Jin looked back at you, waiting.

“Which one would you save first?”

Slightly taken aback, Jin retorted with a laugh, “Whoever was closest to me, of course.” He laughed a little more before the question mulled around in his head. “But honestly, I don’t know. I want to save them both.” He scoffed at himself. “That was a stupid question.”

A long quietness descended between you and Jin as you both entertained your own private thoughts, the tea growing cold in between your palms. Jin thought of turning back around, back to the house so they can move away from this awkwardness. Just as he worked up the determination to invite you back to the house, you speak, your voice so low Jin almost missed it.

“I’d die along with them.” 

You take a deep breath. 

“We’d all have died. If I can only save one, half of me would’ve died with him and what kind of life would that be?” Your forehead furrowed ever so slightly. “And neither of them would live if the other died. Not truly. Thus, no one will have survived.”

Jin stared at you, unblinking. Then nodded his head sombrely. He understood it clearly so he didn't bother to say anything more. 

Unbeknownst to him, and as dark as it was, that was the moment he fell; the moment his fate was sealed to a kindred spirit, forever to be intertwined with yours; seven souls growing like grape vines around an arbour that is you. And if he knew then, he’d reckon he’ll be okay with it. There would be nothing else Jin would live and die for. 

~~~

“Would you take a bullet for me?”

Nick guffawed out loud at the question, moving away from me to the other end of the couch. The movie on the TV was paused. “Hell nah! That’s crazy!”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics but it slightly stung anyway. “It’s just a hypothetical question.”

“You’re chronically online, babe,” he said, getting up to get another beer from the fridge. “So influenced by all those fake relationships you see on there. You need to get a hobby.”

“I have a hobby,” I murmured under my breath.

“Like, I don’t know, learning how to cook?” he continued, not listening.

“What’s wrong with my cooking?” I snapped, standing up to face him. 

Nick shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. I’m tired of eating pasta on Fridays.”

“Pasta Fridays was your idea, Nick,” I countered. 

Again, he shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe you should learn how to make that meanass lasagna Rosie makes all the time.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean, Rosie makes it all the time?”

Nick groaned, rolling his eyes now. “See, you’re always focusing on all the wrong things.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m going out. It’s suffocating here.”

The door slammed behind him and in my seething rage, there was one thing I agreed with him: it was getting suffocating here.

***

Heavy. So heavy but I willed my arm to drag Jin out of the water. 

My arms and chest burn but the pain is barely noticed as adrenaline propels me, teeth grinding against each other so hard my jaw is numb. Or is it the frigid water? It feels like I’m fighting against a bag of rocks that only wants to pull me back down to the bottom of the muddy pond. The shore feels like a welcome home once my feet can finally find footing, now able to pull Jin out of the water from under his armpits. Being on land, his full weight seems to have doubled than when we were in the water. 

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.

Oh, God, please.

I lose my footing and fall on my back, Jin’s head against my stomach. I scramble back to my feet, putting his head gently on the ground and kneel next to him. His dark hair is plastered lifelessly against his forehead, his usually plump lips blue and his face pale. His chest isn’t moving.

Nononononononononono.

Oh, god, please no. 

CPR. I’ve taken the class. I should know how to do this. But I can’t remember. What’s the first step? Fuck!

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

Okay. Calm down. I can do this. Chest compressions. Rescue breaths. Okay. I can do this. Oh my god, he’s so cold. Is it too late to even try? I pressed my palm against his chest at the right location and that’s when it hit me, the reality of the situation. The once strong chest is now laying rigid under my fingers. It’s not right. 

Okay, chest compressions.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5…17, 18, 19, 20, 21…28, 29, 30.

Pinch nose, tilt head, breathe. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

Repeat.

11, 12, 13, 14, 15…25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30.

Pinch nose, tilt head, breathe. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

Nothing.

Please, wake up. Please. 

6, 7, 8, 9, 10…17, 18, 19…29, 30.

Breathe. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

Nothing.

I scream my throat raw, vision blurry from the tears pooling in my eyes. Desperation turns into frustration, pressing against his chest so hard my shoulders are turning stiff. It angers me even more to think that I have to follow the rhythm of that stupid song to keep it at the right pace. Stupid song. Stupid Jinnie. 

Chest compression. Breathe. Repeat. Chest compression. Breathe. Repeat. Chest compression. Breathe. Repeat.

Another scream of frustration escapes my lips, calling out his name. I don’t know when I started but the crying feels more hysterical now, the tightness in my chest like a cord is wrapped around my heart squeezing it like a vice. Every breath I take feels like a betrayal towards Jin lying there motionless; the air grates against my windpipe, my lungs unable to properly carry out the oxygen to blood process.  Every fibre of my being is in anguish, the pain so physical I feel like an invisible hand is pulling me apart bit by bit.

“I’d die. I’d choose death.”

That’s right. If I can’t save Jin then death will be the only solace. 

My hands cease compressing his heart, slowing down as the burning in my muscles intensify. The world seems to be coming to a halt, too, spinning slower and slower at a slight tilt. I can hear my own heart in my ears, the slow thump, thump, thump, as I slump forward to rest my head on Jin’s cold, unmoving chest. His shoulders, once so wide and strong, now look deflated and hunched in the absence of life. Jin. My Seokjin. Seokjin. 

Kim Seokjin.

That’s right. That’s his name. Why now am I remembering that? What use is his name now?

Kim Seokjin.

I trace my fingers along his jawline. His beautiful face looks peaceful, that perpetual slight frown that he seemed to always have on his face like he’s always worried is gone. He looks young, no more than thirty, perhaps. I scoot up closer to his face, taking my time to take in every detail of his features - his eyelashes, the three moles on his cheek, his luscious lips - like it was my last time, saving them away into my long-term memory so as to not forget him. 

Again.

That’s right. I don’t want to forget him again. 

“Seokjin, please. Don’t make me forget you again.”

~~~

Karma watches you through the leaves, the blackness of his fur camouflages well in the shadows, keeping him hidden for as long as he needs to be. 

He had watched you drag Seokjin out of the water. He watched you pummelled against his chest to get his heart to beat again. He kept himself hidden as you screamed and sobbed against Seokjin’s lifeless body. He bided his time. He needed to see.

His twin tails swish curiously, carefully missing the trees around him to avoid making any sounds. His bicoloured eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he watches you lean over Seokjin’s face, close enough that your noses are touching. This is it, he thinks. His whole body tenses, waiting for till the last second as your lips connect with his. 

Karma jumps out of his hiding place and slithers up close to your side, nudging you lightly. You ignore him, tears streaming down your face, switching between pleading under your breath and saying goodbye. 

It’s my turn.

~~~

“Mreoow.”

Startled, I look up, coming face to face with Karma’s blue-yellow orbs staring intently straight into my eyes. 

He nudges against my arm, soft and gentle, once again looking up to look at me. He glances towards Jin once and his eyes glow brighter. Huh?

Karma lets out another meow, softer this time. I can hear him purring like a little engine, eyes transfixed on Jin’s face. I finally sit up, hesitantly moving away but never not touching Jin. I can’t bear to be away from him. 

I watch as Karma jumps atop Jin’s chest, his paws kneading against the shirt and the first thought I have is that Jin would have been complaining about cat hair if he was awake. 

Karma purrs louder and it’s an odd thing to say but it feels like the sound is vibrating in my chest. With every passing second, he only becomes louder so much that I’m starting to think it’s all around us, buzzing in the wind. The trees around sway, leaves rustling noisily to combine with that vibrating buzzing sound. Everything is shimmering and the earth seems to rattle beneath me. 

Fear struck my heart and I’m in between panicking to run but not wanting to leave Jin lying there alone with that strange cat I had called my own. Karma’s twin tails are sticking straight up, entwined around each other. There’s electric static thick around Karma, like if I reach out my hand to touch him I might get electrocuted so I remain still, my heart in my throat. The hum gets louder and this time it’s for sure not that of a cat’s. 

And then Jin’s eyelids flutter.

~~~

“What does it mean?” You waved your hand at the Anam Cara symbol Jin was carving into the wood. His wine-stained lips reminded you he was on the verge of drunkenness. 

“It means I love you.”

“Really?”

Jin turned to look at you. He wasn’t smiling but the gaze in his eyes was intense. “I love you.”

You stared at him, licking your lips. 

“I said I love you.” Jin leaned in closer, his breath tickling your cheeks. He watched your throat bobbed but you didn't move away. He eyed your slightly parted lips, an invitation he’s accepting gladly. 

He closed the gap, lips brushing yours. “I love you,” he whispered one last time. 

***

“Seokjin?”

It’s dusk, the sky above him tinged red. It takes awhile for his vision to adjust and when it finally does, the first thing he sees is a pair of red, brimming eyes. 

 “Seokjin?” you call out again, your voice cracking. 

He blinks a few times and tries to get up but the weight on his chest stops him from doing so. He strains to look down and is met with the cat’s wet nose. He gags, clamouring to sit up and throwing the cat off. Neither you nor Jin paid any attention as Karma scampers off into the forest as you tackle Jin straight back down to the ground, wailing.

Flabbergasted, Jin lay there staring up at the sky that’s growing darker. He can see a lone star already peeking out and he rummages through his brain trying to remember why you’re so distraught, hands already wrapped around your cold body. 

Wait a minute. You’re wet. He looks down but only sees the top of your soaked hair. He’s wet, too. Drenched. 

“What happened?”

You pause, sitting up and looking at him first in confusion and then your forehead dips into a frown. The softness in your eyes remains but your face crumples once again. But this time in anger.

“You died, that’s what happened! How could you do that to me?!” 

A bewildered Jin sits frozen in place as you thump your fists against him, screaming the same thing over and over again. “You stupid, stupid old man! Walking into the forest all drunk like that! What were you thinking?! If you want to die so much then I’ll kill you myself!” 

Your words start to mix together, incoherent and mostly nonsense to Jin as the rage subsides into tears again but the pounding on his chest never stops and it is starting to hurt a little. His whole body hurts, actually. Jin finally wrestles you, getting ahold of your wrists in one hand and cupping your chin with the other; soft, gentle touches that relent you of your struggling but not the waterworks.

You’re heaving, shoulders moving up and down as you glare at Jin. He isn’t smiling nor is he angry. He understands better than anyone the emotions you’re grappling with because he, too, had once been there. Right here. Right in this same place. The situation had been slowly dawning at him as he recognised his surroundings. How selfish had he been to put you through that; a pain so unbearable it’s a mark on both your soul and his. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly. He pulls you closer. “Forgive me.”

You shake your head, wet hair flying into your face. 

“Forgive me, little one,” Jin sobs.

Again, you shake your head, more determinedly this time as Jin continues to chant the words, chest aching not from your punches earlier but from the contrition that’s crushing his once-stilled heart. Finally, you straighten your shoulders and look squarely into his eyes.

“No,” you say through shaky breaths. “Not…until you tell me what it means.”

Jin cocks his eyebrows. 

“The symbol on the attic door,” you explain. “I-” you take a deep breath. “I remember you carving it in. Maybe…maybe from a previous life.”

Jin’s mouth falls open. 

“What does it mean?”

Jin’s mind is still reeling at your revelation of a memory. Maybe it was brief, maybe it was just that specific one but you’re remembering nevertheless, and not just any past lives but that first one, where it all began. He’s also trying to remember what symbol exactly you’re talking about. Then it hits him. You’re alluding him to something.

“The Anam Cara, Jin,” you stress, getting impatient. “What does it mean?”

“I love you,” he breathes out just as he pulls you into him, lips crashing together and it feels like forgiveness as you lean into him to deepen the kiss. He feels your arms wrap tightly around his neck and your legs around his waist and he relishes in this warm, golden feeling, welcoming the love of his life home. Safe, in his arms. Finally, finally.

But not for long.

~~~

“Hyunnnggg!”

“Jin hyunngggg!”

“Hyunngiieeee!”

I look back at Jin, flushing my forehead against his, my fingers in his hair as I hear my name being called out in the distance. Nighttime has finally enveloped us and the wind is starting to bite. I press my lips against his once more, feeling how plush they are, how soft the way Jin kisses me back like I’m delicate. Like he’s holding back. And how warm. Warm, warm lips on warm, warm skin. 

“What do we tell them?” whispers Jin, tucking my hair behind my ear. 

“That you’re an idiot,” I say wetly through a smile. 

Jin scoffs. “Like that’s news to them.”

I laugh.

“There you are!”

We both jump as Jimin suddenly bursts through the trees, a flashlight in one hand. “Hyung!” he cries, making a beeline towards us. “Oh, thank god!”

I barely escaped Jimin’s wrestling hug as I subtly moved aside to make way. He grabs the older man into a tight hug, saying nothing as they embrace. When Jimin finally pulls away, I see the tear track down his cheeks. He gives Jin a once over before noting the wet clothes. He opens his mouth to ask but is cut off by loud rustling noises as another person tumbles into the clearing.

It’s Jungkook, eyes wide and panicky. His eyes lock in on the three of us and it doesn’t take long for him to rush forward and literally pull Jin into his arms. As Jungkook and Jin share a moment, Jimin turns to me.

“You’re wet,” he says, taking off his jacket. He drapes it around my shoulders wordlessly before enfolding me into his arms.

“You idiot!” 

I look up in surprise to see Hoseok in the treeline, squinting a little as he shines his light towards us. My surprise quickly turns to fear, cowering into Jimin when his angry gaze falls on me next. “Both of you!” He yells. “Going into the woods like that!”

He marches over towards Jin and pulls him up by his shirt collar so much so that Jin is forced to stand. “I could punch you right now,” he hisses but doesn’t, roughly mandhandling Jin into his arms. “Asshole. Don’t ever do that again.”

It takes another few minutes for the others to arrive, including Mr Chang in the search party. The walk back to the house is a quiet one and I’m so drained of energy that my limbs feel like sandbags, even when carried on Taehyung’s back. My whole body aches like I’ve been hit by a truck and it takes an effort to keep my eyes open for Taehyung’s sake. 

We are met by Mrs Oliviera by the edge of the forest, warm blankets in her hands as she drapes one over me and tosses the other to Jin, her face frozen in a disapproving scowl as she immediately fusses over the thin scratches all over my face, neck, arms and legs. She switches from fussing over me to berating Jin, as well as pointing out all the little wounds on him, too, and warning him to take care of them inside. For a mousy housekeeper who doesn't usually talk all that much, it’s only her voice that I can hear as the world is shut out behind my eyelids. And for some reason, it brings me relief.

~~~

Taehyung feels you going limp and he adjusts your position so that you remain secure on his back. It’s not when Yoongi offers to switch that he realises how much his back hurts that he happily obliges. They, too, had trekked the woods in half-blindness the moment they could. 

Yoongi carries you in his arms up the stairs as carefully as he can, careful to leash in his anger at not being fast enough, at not being there when it happened. Thankfully, Mrs Oliviera is right at his heels, following him into your room as she instructs him to place you in the bathtub instead of the bed. You groggily open your eyes but Yoongi doesn’t linger long to let Ollie do what needs to be done to get you out of your damp clothes and warm you up. Instead, he goes to the room across the hallway because there’s another person that needs to be taken care of: Seokjin.

He knocks softly once before pushing the door open to reveal the room already cramped with five others. He hears water running in the bathroom and takes his place on the edge of the bed, waiting as the others are. No one says a word. No one looks at each other. No one questions nor makes a move when forty minutes pass and the bathroom door is still closed with Namjoon leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door.

Once, Yoongi thought he heard sobbing from inside the bathroom but neither him nor the others even lifted their heads. They let him be, giving the space he needs but remaining close enough in case they need to act fast. Yoongi is not worried about Jin doing anything drastic while he’s alone in there; that’s not why they’re here. They’re here because they couldn’t be before, earlier in the day or even back then. It’s compensation, for which he’s not sure.

Yoongi should’ve known better. He should’ve at least made sure Jin was okay while the others fussed over you that day in the past. You had drowned, yes, but Jin had been the only one there, saddled with guilt for all those decades. And this time, if you hadn’t been there for Jin, he can’t even bring himself to imagine what would’ve happened. 

You had somewhat briefly recounted the details of what happened before they found you but something nags at the back of Yoongi’s head that you’re not telling the full truth. Jin had fallen into the water, you had jumped right in and pulled him out. You managed to pump his heart back, dislodging the water Jin’s lungs. That’s it. 

That’s it? He had asked then but you had nodded tiredly so he didn’t push. He kept quiet even when he had noticed you and Jin exchanging glances. 

Something else happened. Something that had given them their physical forms back before they raced each other into the woods. Something else happened in between them turning to ghosts and unable to move away from Solomon’s Manor to slowly materialising back into existence, from between Jin jumping into the water and them finding the two of you in that forsaken place but today, Yoongi knows, won’t be the day they learn about it. He just has to sleep tonight with that unknowingness sitting on his chest. For tonight, at least. 

The bathroom door opens and Jin steps out. The bright and cheerful man isn’t there and Jin has a gaunt look on his face. He looks up and tries to smile but it’s sour and Yoongi wishes he’d stop. For the first time in a very long time, Yoongi thought Jin’s shoulders looked too small, too fragile. 

“Yah,” Jin calls out in a false happy voice. “Why are you all still here? I’m tired and I want to sleep. Get out.”

They don’t respond. Jin tries again, stumbling forward and trying to shove Jungkook with his foot. “Yah, move. Get out. Please. I’m tired. I want to sleep.” He’s chuckling as he switches to nudge Jimin with his other foot and pushes Hoseok’s shoulder lightly from the bed. “Move, yah!”

Jin sits down in his bed and makes an effort to crawl under the blanket. He tries one more time to shoo Yoongi and Hoseok off the bed but they’re not budging, moving only to let him into the bed before the scoot closer. Jimin approaches him then with the first aid kit, quietly holding Jin in place by the chin as he tends to the scratches on his cheeks and neck while the older man whines and pleads for them to leave, muttering non stop. Yoongi can almost see it; Jin is stretching so thin he’s breaking.

And then he does.

It starts small. A sniffle and a crack in his voice before Jin shrugs off Jimin’s hands and hangs his head in between his knees. The crying is quiet but the shaking and heaving of Jin’s body are a dead giveaway as he wretches. Yoongi reaches out an arm to rub his back, eyes staring at a spot on the carpet. His own eyes are wet.

Jungkook climbs onto the bed to sit close to Jin as Jimin sinks his hand into Jin’s hair, rubbing the back of his head and neck as he presses his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his own eyes. Taehyung comes from the other side and pulls Jin sideways into his chest, holding the eldest close as he rocks from side to side. 

 The questioning, the scolding can all be put aside for now. Jin is here, Jin is alive. He might not be okay but he’s here with them and Yoongi can deal with that. They can deal with that. Jin is in pieces but they can handle that; they can put him back together, piece by piece. He’s here so they can heal and rebuild. Him or themselves, it doesn’t really matter. They can have a do over. Not today but maybe tomorrow. When Jin is feeling better. 

Right now, they hold each other close and they stay together because that’s what Jin needs. What they need. This feeling in Yoongi’s heart is one he’s not familiar with yet nostalgic. It’s something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time but it’s coming back to him now. It’s when you’ve unclogged a sink or untangled a cord. It’s when you remember that word that was on the tip of your tongue or when you’ve done that one chore you hate. It’s the feeling of harbouring a longtime crush and finally being able to spill your guts. 

It’s overcoming a hurdle and now knowing the worst has passed.

It’s saying I love you after waiting for so long.

It’s the end of an awful storm and the clearing of the skies, Yoongi thinks as he lays his head down on the extra pillow, his hand still on the small of Jin’s back who is now almost quiet in Taehyung’s arms. They never drew the curtain closed for the night as seven bodies piled into the queen-sized bed. How they fit, Yoongi doesn’t know but he does know that it’s going to be okay.

Tomorrow, all will be just fine.

~~~

“This is getting interesting.”

The other white clad figure hums in agreement. “It’s nothing we’ve seen before.”

“You reckon this will be it?”

He takes a short while contemplating his colleague’s question before finally answering, “Who knows.”

a/n: this series has been going on for so long (timewise) that it started before BTS enlistment and now they're coming back and it's still nowhere near finished lol

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“Come on. Don’t be a wuss. Get on.”

I hesitated but Nick didn’t bother to wait, as usual, pulling me onto his back and grabbing onto my thighs to pull me up securely. “Deep breaths, baby,” he ordered and without another warning, he dove into the water.  

The cool water hit my face and I tensed up, hearing the distant alarm bells ringing in my head. My eyes stung and I closed them, albeit too late. Nick swam fast, his legs kicking behind him as he dragged me through the dark water of the lake. My chest burnt and I struggled to hold my breath. I signalled to Nick to go up, tapping on his shoulder urgently but when he didn’t get the message, I started shaking him more forcefully. 

But Nick continued on, swimming forward and almost as if he was going even faster. I could feel the panic setting in at the thought of how far from the shallow end we must have gone, but more importantly of how dark it seemed to be. It was ridiculous but it felt like I was being pulled down to the depths of it, a sudden feeling of being trapped overwhelming me. At that point, all I wanted was to get off of him, the alarm bells now screaming in my head telling me that being attached to his back was much more dangerous than the water. I didn’t feel safe with him. 

I must have tightened my grip against Nick’s neck because now he was the one struggling, pushing against my arms. But in that moment, it felt like he wanted me to let go so I’d sink to the bottom of the lake, gone forever, a way for him to get rid of me quick and easy and with less of a mess. I held on tighter, feeling his Adam’s apple somewhat digging into my arm now and this time Nick was literally fighting me off, prying my arms with one hand while trying to stay afloat. 

My survival instinct kicked in and I was latched on to him like some kind of parasite, unknowingly choking him to death while at the same time believing that he was the one trying to kill me. Bubbles escaped both our lips and I heard him shout something under the water. It took him awhile before he resurfaced, both of us spluttering and gasping for air.

“Let go of me!”

His strength outmatched mine and he finally managed to pry me off. It was when my butt hit the rocky ground that I noticed we were already by the shore with families and groups of friends and couples staring at me looking like an almost drowned rat being berated, which is not far from the truth, I thought.

“Crazy bitch!” Nick spat before he stormed off towards the car, cursing under his breath. 

~~~

Jin is the type of person that would do his best to keep all the bad memories away. He likes to focus on the good so it makes everything else more bearable, so when you asked him that question, his mind just went completely blank. 

“Jin?” you urge, shaking him a little, your nails digging into his skin. 

He blinks, his gear kicking in. “Let’s get out of here first,” he says, gently guiding you out of the space inside the wall. His mouth feels dry and his tongue is now a block of sandpaper. He keeps his hands on you as you both walk downstairs, being hyper aware of the silken smooth material of your top, knowing that he’s only holding on to you to keep himself grounded. 

They run into Hoseok when they reach the second floor and one look at Jin is enough to alert the other man. That look, as well as your puffy red eyes. 

“What happened?” he approaches you and boldly tips your chin up to get a proper look at your face. “Are you okay?”

At the sheepish grin you give him, he turns to Jin. “Hyung?”

“I-” you start to say before clearing your throat and trying again. “I got stuck in the wall.”

“What?!”

“I’m fine!” you rush to add. “Jin found me. I’m okay.” You look at Jin and give his hand a squeeze. “We’re okay.”

Jin seems to suddenly realise where he is but his reaction surprises both himself and you. He lets go of your hand more abruptly than he intended, mumbles something neither you nor Hoseok could make out and then excuses himself. He walks away, down the stairs and then disappears from your sight even before you even think of what to say to stop him. You look back helplessly at Hoseok who shrugs his shoulders. 

“He’ll be okay,” he reassures, although the scowl on his face remains. He doesn’t look convinced himself. “He just…needs time.” Hoseok gently pulls you towards your bedroom. “Do you want to tell me what happened though?”

The memory resurfaces and you purse your lips. “I think I saw a memory.”

“Of?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I think I drowned? A long time ago?”

You don’t have to look at Hoseok’s face to register first the subtle startle of his body going rigid and then the way his whole demeanour seemed to be clouded over, like a shadow had fallen over him and you. It was enough of an answer. Hoseok silently leads you back to your room, his soul feeling too heavy for his vessel as he recalled that awful memory. Has Jin confirmed it with you? Was he not able to? 

“Is Jin okay?” he hears you mutter.

Hoseok only gives your shoulder a quick squeeze, not saying the words out loud: I don’t know.

***

No, Jin is not okay. 

Namjoon catches a glimpse of him heading for one of the rooms where the liquor cabinet is. He doesn’t think much of it but a hunch made him get up from his seat and follow the older man. If only he knew what had transpired upstairs, maybe he would have quickened his steps because just as he enters the room, Jin is already holding a bottle of dark whiskey, the kind that people go for to numb pain you can’t physically see, the kind that painkillers don't work on. 

Only slightly curious, Namjoon quietly sits in one of the armchairs, opening up his book and pretending to read. Jin carries the crystal bottle towards the sliding door that leads to the back of the house and after a five-second pause, opens the door and goes outside. He doesn’t even acknowledge Namjoon in the room with him and that should’ve been the biggest warning flag. He should’ve easily noticed that Namjoon’s book is upside down.

See, the thing about living for centuries together, you develop a bond unlike any other that when something bad happens to one or the other, you’d feel it deep in your bones. Dread that starts from your bone marrow and seeps into your bloodstream, slowly poisoning you until even your own saliva tastes bitter as you swallow. That’s what Namjoon is experiencing now as he watches Jin’s back among the tall reeds as he goes further and further away towards the tree line. He might be able to feel the darkness but it’s nothing that he can confirm to be of any consequence. That’s what Hoseok is feeling, too, as he shuts your door quietly behind him. 

The foreboding impression that one of them is about to go into the deep end creeps down all six backs. It’s a familiar feeling, of course, one they learned to recognize easily now after much hard-learned lessons. Hoseok is in the middle of the staircase when Namjoon comes up to him, telling him what he already suspected. The question is, would he be able to reach the long forgotten waterfall?

Jimin and Jungkook argued that the pathway had been sealed, that it will be more than overgrown now. The waterfall itself would have disappeared, too, dried up as the environment changes. But Hoseok doesn’t want to hear logic or arguments; he wants to find Jin and bring him back. 

“He won’t come back,” Yoongi had said matter-of-factly. “You know he won’t. Not until he’s faced with it.” He’s ignoring the fact that Jin might not be sober, having faith that the eldest had always been the reasonable one. Jin won’t do anything stupid. Right?

“There’s no reason to go back there,” replied Namjoon, somewhat annoyed. He’s been pacing the floor, tugging at his hair from the roots. “We could’ve talked things out. What is he thinking?!”

Jungkook stands up, unable to ignore the unsettling feeling in his stomach. “I’m going after him. Before he hurts himself.”

The others agree and start preparing themselves. The sun is still high in the sky and there will still be a few more hours left before it gets dark but flashlights were among the things they packed. Just in case. As they’re about to leave the house, Jimin suddenly has half a mind to ask for your whereabouts. 

Hoseok answers, “She’s in her room, taking a nap.”

“No, she’s not.” They all look up to see Oliviera standing in the doorway with an annoyed look on her face. “She’s gone to take a walk. Left half an hour ago.” When they all stare back at her blankly, she scoffs, “It would be good if you start being more aware of your surroundings.” 

They watch her walk away, mumbling under her breath. The six men exchange looks, mouth slacking open and the blood draining from their faces as they realise too late where you are going. 

~~~

Death in itself is natural. A necessary thing to keep the cycle of life going.

It’s one thing to live multiple lives throughout the centuries because those lives don’t really blend together. They’re separate; separate people, separate stories, separate…me. But dying and being brought back to life is like having one foot through the door and it makes you somewhat wonder if all of you ever made it back to this side, or if a piece of you is lost forever. Gone through the abyss. The chasm. The other side, or whatever they call it. 

I trudge through the grass, heading to where I last saw Jin. I heard the others talk about how to handle him, how to talk to him, but none of them mentioned going after him. Maybe they understood to give Jin the space he needed but to me, needing space doesn’t quite equal to walking into the forest alone, empty-handed except for a bottle of Macallan. Somehow I knew deep in my heart that it’s got everything to do with me and if I didn’t bring him back to the house then we’re all doomed. It’s a funny notion but it felt like the truth. 

As I walk down the barely visible path, I keep thinking about having died by drowning. Neither Jin or Hoseok ever verbally confirmed if that happened but the look on their faces had been clear enough. Weirdly, it didn’t scare me but it does somehow, in a twisted way, explain my fear of water. It makes sense. A lot of people believe in incarnation and for traumas and scars of those lived lives to resurface in the current one is plausible. It aligns. Does it explain my fear of dark places, too? Or was that from a different life? I wouldn’t know until I know the circumstances of what had actually happened and the only one who can tell me that is the person I’m blindly following into the woods.

There used to be a waterfall somewhere in here, that much I heard from the boys’ conversation. If my hunch is correct (it feels more than a hunch, like a buzzing in my soul), then it’s exactly the place where it happened. But the deeper into the woods I go, the more the little path starts to fade out and then disappear altogether. I walk on a little more, stubborn from admitting that I am what I am: lost. Hopelessly lost in the woods. 

I heave a sigh, rotating in a small circle, looking around the tall trees. I consider my options: one, go back to the house and face the consequence of my stupid actions in the form of six angry men that I had walked out without a word or two, keep going and get even more lost and perhaps just die out there in the woods alone, eaten by a wolf or a bear. Fuck, I didn’t even consider the wild animals that could be living here. The dread sinks in and suddenly my surroundings feel ten times scarier. 

Hoseok is going to be so pissed. Jimin, too. The others would be disappointed that I worry them but those two won’t shy away from telling it how it is. 

Wait a minute. Neither of them have ever been angry with me. Was that a previous memory thing again? I let out a frustrating groan, holding my head in between both hands. At times like this, it just feels like I’m living in someone else’s skin, pretending to be someone I’m not. Everything feels not enough and too much at the same time, like trying to recall something that’s sitting on the tip of your tongue but never being able to remember, feeling like I should remember because they are my thoughts, my memories. My life. And yet, they’re not. Not quite.

Something soft brushes against my leg and I jump up, yelping. 

“Mreoww.”

“Karma!” I look at the cat in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

The cat’s twin tails swish vigorously, his eyes piercing mine. He walks ahead a few steps, tails sticking up straight in the air. He looks back once, eyes glinting with such knowledge it’s almost like I can hear him. Come. Follow me.

I watch Karma take a few more steps forward, stop and look back again. This time I got the message. 

“Take me to Jin,” I say, following behind him, knowing that he’s already doing exactly just that.

~~~

Seokjin is walking blindly, the bottle of whiskey he carried with him earlier gone a long time ago, flung to the foot of some random tree but not before he finished the last drop. 

He is very much drunk, swaying on his feet as the world tilts from side to side with every step. He feels hot and a little sick but it’s impressive how focused he is on reaching the destination he has set in his mind. Honestly, he didn’t mean to get this inebriated, that wasn’t his intention. He had only needed the dark fiery liquor as a means to not chicken out. It helped him give him the strength and courage he needed, albeit temporary. Now, he’s starting to regret going a little bit too far. 

The others will be angry, he has no doubt about it. Imagine that; the most level-headed of them is now tumbling through the woods looking for a place he hasn’t been to for decades, half out of his mind, literally, just to…what? What exactly is the reason for him searching for that damned waterfall? 

“Take me there, Jinnie,” you had pouted, stamping your feet a little like a kid. “I want to go for a swim, Jinnie. It’s perfect weather. Please, Jinnie.”

You had begged and whined and literally clung to him the whole week with that pretty pout on your face that Jin had more than once bent over to leave a peck or two, cheekily riling you on with a simple, “No, thank you” to your request before walking away. He blamed only himself for even speaking about the place a few weeks back when they had all talked about where to go now that summer was there. 

It was during dinner and among the suggestions of going to the beach or the lake in the next town over, Jin had casually said, “Why not the waterfall in our own backyard?” 

Obviously it was met with a lot of pushbacks. Namjoon and Yoongi are both convinced that it was too deep in the woods while Taehyung complained about mosquitoes. Jungkook mulled over the idea for a bit but Jimin reminded that it would be a hassle to lug all the picnic stuff through dense trees for miles. So it was agreed upon by the majority that it was not the best idea and it was dropped. Or so he thought. 

You, on the other hand, had broached the idea again that night before bed as you laced your fingers through his. It took everything in Jin to keep a serious face, reiterating what Jimin had said about it being too difficult to carry things there. He tried to discourage you with mosquito bites and it being humid and hours of trekking until you finally relented. For the night, that was.

But Jin isn’t much of a strong soldier when you are the opponent; then, now or ever. He finally gave in a week later (a record time, actually) with a compromise that it would be a date, just for the two of you to minimise items to carry. A hike, just you and Jin. You had tried to get Yoongi to come along too but he had been too busy with the roof repair. It had been raining a lot the past couple of weeks but the huge thunderstorm yesterday was the final straw that threatened to cave the roof in and he couldn’t procrastinate any longer now that there was a leak in the master bedroom, lest he wanted a swimming pool in the ceiling.

So Jin had spent hours in the early morning meticulously preparing the food. He had woken up at five in the morning, hardly sleepy but a little excited, against his better judgement. He wasn’t a hiking kind of person, that was Namjoon and occasionally Hoseok if the place was right. Jungkook had come down a little after six, woken by the smell of food only to stare into space in the middle of the kitchen before Jin ushered him back to bed with the promise that there would be extra left for when he was actually fully awake.

You came bounding into the kitchen a little earlier than he expected and you both packed everything together into a little rucksack, an attempt to keep your loads light. You rationalised that you didn’t need to pack a change of clothes because you could both just come back when you’re done. The trek back home would dry you off plenty so no need for towels either. Only one rucksack of food and a flask of juice and a picnic mat. Some cutleries and napkins. That was all. 

Jin could even still hear the promise you made to Yoongi as you left out the door, that you’ll both be back after lunchtime, that you’d help him with the roof after (Yoongi countering that no, that was not needed because he didn’t want you up on the roof with him, that Taehyung would be home to help instead so no worries, you can just enjoy yourselves). It was when he watched you wave goodbye to Yoongi that the heavy feeling crept in. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t have.

I took you here, he thinks now. It’s my fault. That stain on your soul, I put it there.

But going back to the place where it happened isn’t going to change anything but in the absence of sobriety, the logic eludes him. He’s not even sure why he’s heading there but he guesses that he just needs to see it. He hasn’t been there since it happened; neither of them had. They had tried to cover the pathway, blocking it from ever being accessed, but now, somehow, Jin’s feet are taking him there, oblivious to the tiny scratches along his calves and his arms, the stray branches nicking his neck and cheeks as he pushes through the growth. 

~~~

Being a cat means that Karma is gracefully moving through the undergrowth, leaving me stumbling behind him, desperate to keep up and not getting poked in the eye with a branch or whatnot.

The grasses are getting taller and I’m getting more and more anxious of coming across a snake or worse, stepping on one. But Karma doesn’t even seem wary; odd for a cat but then again he was an outdoor adventurer before I brought him in. Is this wood familiar to him?

The stupidity of the reality of following a cat crosses my mind more than a few times because how do I even know where he’s taking me? Why am I so sure that he’s leading me to Jin? Jin could’ve turned back around and I wouldn’t even know it, leaving me alone with the dumb idea to think that a cat is taking me where I want to go. But an innate feeling tells me I should trust the cat which keeps looking back at me every few minutes with those blue-yellow orbs of his as if making sure my two clumsy feet, as opposed to his lithe four, are keeping up fine. 

“Do you have to go so fast?” I ask exasperatedly after another branch whips into my face. Karma actually pauses, sits on a log and licks his front paw lazily. He gives me a judgemental look before turning around and bounding off. I roll my eyes. 

My focus is solely on finding Jin, so much so that I completely forgot about the other six back at the house who are currently, unbeknown to me, facing another bigger problem.

~~~

Jin arrives.

Nostalgia is a mind trick because the place isn’t as pretty as the memory in his head, albeit the bitter experience. The waterfall had dried up and the pond beneath it was murky and overgrown with water plants that almost covered the surface of the dark, dirty water. Jin can’t even fathom bringing you here on a picnic date. The place looks more like the heavy feeling in Jin’s chest whenever he thinks about that day he pulled you out of the water than the small piece of heaven he and Namjoon had pridefully boasted the day they found it. 

This place, like all of your past lives, had died.

Standing there, eyes glued to the middle of the dark pond, Jin is sucked into the memory he tries so hard to push to the back burner. He reasoned with himself every time that you were alright after all and everything was fine so he could let go, but the more he tries to forget, the guiltier he feels. It wasn’t just your heart that stopped beating for two minutes; his did, too. And it never beat right again after that, the rhythm wonky and jagged, at times like a bird in too small a cage. 

That part of you that died in the water, is it still there? If he goes into the water, would he be able to retrieve the broken piece of your soul and make you a little bit more whole? Jin sighs heavily. He doesn’t think it would make much of a difference. Putting only a tiny fragment of something that broke in a million different ways won’t change a thing. There are just too many scars, too many traumas contained in that body of yours, with or without your knowing. 

Out of all the things Jin wants, one of them is to heal you; to take away all your pain and suffering. If he could trade your soul with his, if he could bear all of your crosses, he would do it in a heartbeat. He knows damn well, too, that so will the others (he’ll never forget how Jungkook literally dove in front of a bullet for you, in one of those lives but that’s a story for another time). 

With another deep sigh, Jin plops himself down on a horizontal rotting log, eyes never leaving the water surface. The sun is no longer above the treeline and the lighting seems muted. In the silence, he longs for you, wishing he could feel your arms around his shoulders and hear your voice telling him how stupid he’s being right now. His head is starting to pound and the world is swaying from side to side. His alcohol-soaked brain is starting to get the better of him because why is he seeing you climbing up the side of the waterfall again, grinning at him ear to ear. 

He stands up, tilting a bit to one side and he feels like he might be sick. You scale to the top, waving at him happily. “Get down from there,” he tried to say but the words felt too heavy for his tongue to form properly. No. Not again. Please. If there’s a god out there, please not again. 

Jin shuffles forward, tripping over his own feet, calling out to you. The sound of the waterfall is deafening in his ears and he tries his best to shout over the noise. He moves forward, shoes sinking into the water as he desperately wills his body to keep moving, to get to you before you jump. He’s too slow, body too big, too heavy. No. Stop. Don’t. Don’t jump. 

But you do - into the water with a splash only in Jin’s head. Adrenaline surges and for a moment his vision clears a little bit and the world stops trying to upend him off his feet. He wades in the water, screaming your name. Something catches against his legs but with brute force, he wrenches himself free. Later, he’ll feel the burn but for now, all he can do is try and catch you when you fall. He can be ready this time. He can stop it from happening this time. He can save you this time.

With one last wave with a smile that outshines the sun, you jump. And Jin dives under the water after you.

A few feet behind him, standing on the log he had been sitting just minutes ago, you look in horror as Jin disappears into the water. 

Back at the manor…

Oliviera stares open-mouthed at the six ghosts standing in the hallway, their pale faces mirroring hers. 

Hoseok stares at his semi-translucent hands, feeling the icy cold fingers of dread creeping down his neck like someone had just doused him in cold water. Their backpacks had thumped straight to the floor loudly the moment their shoulders were no longer solid and Jimin thinks that fear is such an insignificant word to describe this sinking feeling in his stomach. His hands shake.

“What’s happening?” Jungkook asks, his voice sounding a lot more like the teenager they raised than the adult that he is, eyes wide and looking around.

Hoseok and Namjoon exchange looks but neither of them has an answer. Yoongi slumps to his knees, his legs feeling like jelly. His chest is tight and every breath is like claws dragging down the inside of his ribcage. He knows he’s right before the words even come out of his mouth: “Jin. It’s Jin.”

It takes all but zero point two seconds between when the words sink in and when they dash out the door, opting to go through it like the ghosts that they are and straight down towards the back of the house. But ghosts are bound to the places that they haunt and so Solomon’s Manor pulls them back, stopping them just before the ravine, a hundred feet or so away from the edge of the woods. So close, yet so far away.

Jungkook screams for his hyung, a voice that barely reaches the treeline and Jimin bursts into tears, fisting his shirt above where his heart is supposed to be because the pain there is excruciating. Yoongi stares forlornly into the distance, holding Taehyung by the waist as the other man’s face is buried in Yoongi’s shoulder. Hoseok’s fists lay helplessly by his sides but Namjoon doesn’t stop from trying to break away from the invisible force that keeps them bound to the house; a curse so old they’ve lived a thousand lives. He twists, he turns and he yells to the sky but all in vain. Solomon’s Manor keeps them from reaching Jin.

 A thousand lives and yet nothing as bad as this ever happened. The threat of bad omens has always followed you, never them. Immortal beings have no qualms about the other side that it never crossed their minds that their own lives could ever be in danger. Death has only been associated with you, the cycle jumping your soul from one body to the next. It never occurred that it could happen to them when it has been aeons with no rest; the same souls residing in the same bodies as the century bled into the next. 

“She’ll find him,” comes a voice, although shaky, from behind. Hoseok turns around to see Oliviera had followed them, wringing her hands together at her chest. Her face is pale as her eyes are set towards the wood. “She’ll bring him home.”

She must, Hoseok thinks, a thought that rings cohesive among all of them standing there. 

You have to trust me, too. 

Your words ring in his head. He stiffens his upper lip, but his hands remain fisted.  

Above them, thick clouds roll in, dark as the future seems to be.

a/n: Look at that! Two updates in one year! Productive! Lmao

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