#not7wu

Back to the Multiverse Masterlist!

Warnings: Amnesia, Anxiety, Swearing, Depictions of and Implied Violence, Abandonment Issues, Stalking, Gun Violence, Coma, PTSD, Trauma, Set in 2020 during the Pandemic

A/N: Yallz have no idea how excited I am to finally be sharing the fruits of my labor. This fic is something I wrote during the pandemic in my Baby Army days when the few fanfics I read didn't satisfy me. It took me a while to learn how to navigate to find the good stuff. The ones I stumbled upon were too insta-love/smutty with NO plot; of course this was back when my love for BTS was at the stage of innocent adoration in contrast to where I am now in my delulu derangement. :D

Holed up with my roommate/cousin, "S", and our friends Garrett and Marlena in 2020, I wrote this to pass the time and to entertain them. S is a Jin-bias, so some of the scenes are catered to her.

This is a completed fic that I am rewriting, so don't worry that I'll fall off the face of the earth. The end will come and I hope it will satisfy your Jin loving, plot driven heart! A new chapter will be posted every Monday. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Here's the Youtube / Spotify playlist I listen to on shuffle as I write this.

Also, last but not least, thank you to my betas, @justamomnamedamie and @miksancheese ! I seriously could not do this without you!

Click here if you prefer to read on AO3!

Tae scoffs.  “We’d only set you adrift on a lake if you were a homewrecker.”

“Technically, the mom was the homewrecker since they were divorced and Meredith was engaged to the dad,” Jimin corrects.  

“Oh my god, not relevant!  Where are we even going?”

Jimin flashes his pearly whites and smooths the duvet.  “Don’t worry, Y/N.  Close your eyes and I’ll sing you a lullaby.”

“As tempting as that is, I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Cool!  In that case,” Tae plops a hefty duffel bag onto your gut making you grunt.  “Change into these!”

“No!  There’s nowhere else to go!”

Tae claps his hands over Jimin’s eyes and whines, “We’ll close our eyes. Promise!” 

“The chauffeur still needs eyes to drive, Tae.”

“He can squint,” Jimin giggles, blindly.

“He can barely see as it is!  It's the dead of night and dark as hell.”

"It's technically morning," Jimin says, as if that makes a difference.

You only barely refrain from strangling him in frustration.  "'Technically', it's so early that it isn't even the ass crack of dawn yet!"

Jimin tilts his head in consideration, unbothered that Tae’s hands are still blinding him.  “But isn’t it the ass crack of dawn?  I don’t think ass cracks get to see much sunlight.”

“Jiminie, your ass crack deserves sunlight.”

“Thank you, Tae.  It does.  Tan lines are yuck.”

Don’t punch them.  Don’t punch them.  Don’t punch them.  You settle with kneeing Tae back so you’re not smushed between him and Jimin.  “None of this is helping.”

“Well, if you won’t sleep and you won’t change, then we can’t help you," Tae pouts.

“Driver-nim, where are we going?”

“He has been sworn to secrecy or must give me his first born child!”

The two gasp as if you asked the driver to run over a puppy.  Jimin shakes his head gravely.  “You can’t just ask him that.  Think of the children.”

"What children?"

You can see in the rearview mirror that the driver is trying to stifle a laugh.  “Don’t encourage them.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N-ssi.  I find it’s best to just go along.”  After a moment’s hesitation, he adds, “Plus, my first born is already in college overseas.”

“Betrayer!  Does your oath mean so little?”

You groan and look to the heavens for patience as the driver succumbs to his laughter.  “Tae, what would you even do with a child?”

“Shower them with all my love and care.  I think I’m going through empty nesting syndrome.”

Jimin coos in sympathy.  “But you still have Y/N and a whole ass baby Jungkookie.”

“Yeah, but they’re really resistant.  Terrible twos are a thing, you know.”

You roll your eyes, “Wow.  Gee.  Why ever would I resist your love and care when it means kidnapping people from their beds?”

Tae sniffs.  “I’m glad you see it my way.  Jiminie, I want a turn with the baby.  Hand her over.”

Jimin tips you over towards Tae, but you simply slide off his lap and shove Tae against the door.  “Hands off.  This baby is gonna sit right here.”

You drop the duffel in a disappointed Tae’s lap and bunch the duvet over a giggling Jimin.  They slide their burdens to the floor and hold your hands hostage in each of theirs.  You sigh like you’re being put upon, but you’re not really that mad.  Your head is still a bit fuzzy and irritable because it’s much too early for their antics, but otherwise, you’re okay.  Besides, spending time with these two is like watching a trainwreck, except they’re not the train or the wreck.  They’re the traffic controllers conducting from afar and you can’t look away, even if they put you on the train.  They’re so charming and cheerful, you can’t help but be mesmerized and impressed.

You must have dozed off at some point because you feel a breeze as a window whirs down.  You struggle with the duvet that you’re once again wrapped in and squint around you.  The sky is a little lighter, although the sun hasn’t appeared yet.  Outside, the ocean is serene with a low hanging mist curled along the silky water where all sizes of boats bob next to the docks.  

You have no idea how or when Jimin got an iced americano, but he's holding it reverently in both hands out of the window as if in offering to some higher deity.  Confused, you glance at Tae who is looking down at you, giddy.  

Jimin shouts, “Yoongi-hyung!  Look!  I brought you coffee!”

You see your surprise is mirrored by Yoongi who is standing under the awning of some maintenance shack a ways away.  He has a facemask on, black bucket hat sitting tightly on his head, dressed in a thick plaid button up and sweatpants.  His surprise morphs to confusion as he quickly gathers his wits and shuffles towards the vehicle, Jimin now waving his bait enticingly at him.  

“Uh, thanks, but what are you doing here?” he calls out to Jimin, pulling his facemask down.  His dumpling cheeks are bunched up, eyes glued to the caffeine nectar. You want to warn him not to fall for the duo’s trap because he obviously doesn't suspect a thing.  How could he not suspect a thing when he’s lived with these tricksy pixies for over a decade?  You open your mouth, but Tae slaps a hand over it, giggling.  You have the thought that the world is lucky Jimin and Tae are good people.  If they were truly evil, you shudder to think what horrors they’d get away with.  

When Yoongi nears the vehicle, Jimin pushes open the back passenger door and shoves Yoongi in.  Yoongi yelps, struggling to not drop the iced americano Jimin unceremoniously tosses towards him so he can climb in behind Yoongi.  It’s then he notices you.

“Y/N?”  He looks from you to Tae.  He glances at Jimin and realizes he’s caged in.  “What’s going on?”

You can only muffle against the hand still clapped over your mouth.  Before you can put up a struggle, Tae pulls you out of the car.  You barely catch the duffel bag he tosses at you when he shouts, “Go, driver-nim!  Go, go, go!”  The door shuts and the car peels away, leaving you coughing at the dust that the car kicks up.  

What the actual fuck.  

You’re out in the cold, god knows where, in only your pajamas.  You’re going to kill Tae and Jimin when you see them next.  You’re gonna murder them.  Stubbornly, you drop yourself to sit on the ground.  You have no shoes on and the gravel does not look forgiving.  Regardless, you will not move from this spot; you refuse to play into whatever the twins are scheming.  

You can hear the ocean lap and crash against the docks and if you close your eyes, it’s almost serene.  A salty breeze whisks through your hair and…a wave of disappointed irritation washes over you.  This could have been nice if Tae and Jimin had prepared you better and hadn’t abandoned you.  You move to brush your hair away from your eyes, when your hand snags on the duffel in your lap.  Oh yeah.  You dig inside and find your clothes.  There’s no phone, but there is a t-shirt, hoodie, comfy worn-in jeans, socks, sneakers, and baseball cap along with some basic toiletries, snacks, and water bottles.  Your mild relief is short-lived when you feel a presence behind you and someone clears their throat.  

Throwing your head back, you see Jin upside down, his smile fond, but brows concerned.  He does a brief scan of the surroundings before settling on your pathetic huddled form.  He emits a defeated sigh.  “I assume Yoongi is gone?”

“It’s not his fault.  The devil’s crotch goblins kidnapped him.”

“And you’re his replacement, huh?”  He comes around so you don’t have to keep staring at him upside down.  He crouches and peruses the duffel.  “Well, at least they had a tiny shred of decency.”

“Mercy.  Tiny shred of mercy.  There’s nothing decent about those malignant minxes.”

He chuckles and reaches out, rubbing your shoulder.  “Want me to drive you home?”

You take in your surroundings again.  The ocean.  Docked boats.  Jin is dressed warmly, his torso secured with a life jacket and tackle vest.  “You’re fishing today.”

“Yeah, but I can fish a different day.  How about we order some takeout for breakfast and pick it up on our way home?”  That does sound good, but…  He continues, “And Taehyung just ordered a package of gourmet strawberries.  We could eat them all and leave a few stems and the empty carton on Jimin’s night stand.  And we can hide Jungkook’s banana milk and put a half drunk one on Taehyung’s night stand.”

You stare at Jin in awe.  “That’s deliciously diabolical.  Have them destroy each other from the inside out, but also with a dose of muscle KangaKoo.  Way better than my plan.”    

“What’s your plan?”

“Cut off all the heels of Jimin’s boots and play the long game of bribing Yeontan with peanut butter so I become his favorite instead of Tae.”

“Por que no los todos?” he winks.  His reply has you both bursting into giggles, his shoulders shaking.  Looking at him like this, you don’t think it’s the giggles that have you breathless.  

Laughter dwindling down to soft smiles, you shrug the duvet off your shoulders and stand with Jin.  “Let’s punish them later.  I’ll keep you company while you fish.”

“Are you sure?  I know you’re not a fan of fishing.”  Jin shoulders the duffel and gathers the duvet up.  There’s something about this moment that feels domestic and familiar.  He’s barefaced, eyes radiant and lips slightly chapped.  You love seeing him like this, relaxed in a way you rarely see.  You know he doesn’t often get time like this to himself and you mentally curse at Tae and Jimin as you realize you’re playing into their hands.  

But you would be lying if you didn’t appreciate having uninterrupted time alone with Jin.  

“I’m not a fan of fishing, but I’m a fan of keeping you company.  Didn’t you know you’re my bias?”  You don’t know where your boldness comes from, but you’re satisfied when you see the tips of Jin’s ears go pink and his smile deepens.  

An hour later, the charter boat is trawling the dark waters off the coast of Incheon.  Your legs are tucked under you, perched on a welded bench next to the railing where Jin is casting his line a few feet upwind of you.  The wind is a little choppier out on the open water, occasionally spraying mist that tickles some nostalgia in you, but a nostalgia you’ve never actually experienced, or at least not one you can remember.

It’s still early morning, but the sun is now fully in the sky.  The waves sparkle and wink and you can barely see the coast.  Maybe you should be admiring the vastness of the azul landscape before you, where the ocean bleeds into the sky, but you instead find yourself enraptured with Jin.  

There hasn’t been much said between you and Jin since the boat left its berth.  There hasn’t been any need.  You revel in the peace that has settled in Jin, hair messily swept, cheeks bitten red, his hands firm and steady on rod and reel.  His broad shoulders that seemingly carry the weight of Korea are lax.  In fact, with his stance, he doesn’t seem to anticipate catching much of anything out here, and you wonder if his fishing trips aren’t so much for the sport, but for the escape.  

“Are you cold?”  Jin has his head cocked.  You hadn’t even realized you were shivering which means he was paying more attention to you than you thought.  You blush at the implication that he noticed you staring at him.  

“A little.”

“Come here.”  He reaches a hand towards you.  You approach him with a protest ready thinking he’ll offer you his own jacket, but instead he positions your back to the rails and wraps his arms around you so he can continue fishing.  You suck in a startled breath.  Even with the life jackets creating a little barrier between you two, you can feel the heat emanating off him.  With the bulk in the way, you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck.  

Your heart quickens at the sudden proximity.  It’s not the first time you’ve been this close to Jin.  You cuddled the first night…but he was consoling you.  He slept next to you the other night, but that was you consoling him.  The only other time you felt this intense pull, this magnetism to him was when you did the dishes with him after the first dinner.  You try to reason with yourself that the position you’re in now is for practical reasons.  Jin is just trying to keep you warm.  

But his face is right there.  His face is right in your face.  “You could have just given me your jacket, you know?” you say shakily.  

“You would have kicked up a stink about it.”  He’s not wrong.  “Plus, I figure I’d give you a close up view of what you’ve been staring at all morning.”

He chuckles as you hide your face against his collarbone.  “Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry.  You’re just too cute.”

“And you’re mean.”  Of course, you don’t really mean that.  The way his body is shaking in mirth has you smiling.  You feel him press a kiss to your head and you feel the warmth of it spread through your body.   You look up at him.

You don’t know what expression is on your face, but he suddenly looks unsure of himself.  “Sorry.  About the kiss.  It’s hab–.  Um, sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that.”

Jin shifts as if to let you go, but you tighten your arms and he stills.  Your eyes zero in on his lips, pink and plush and so, so close…you bury your head in his chest again to stop yourself.

Jin loves you.  He is in love with you.  But for some reason they’ve been trying to keep it hidden from you.  Jin alluded that his reasons were so you wouldn’t feel pressured to do anything.  Hobi…well, you don’t know what Hobi’s problem is.  Do they just want to wait until you are sure of your own feelings?  

You think you love Jin.

But what do you know of love?  Everyone claims the life you knew was fake, but all you know is what you experienced in that fake life.  The love of friends and family.  You had a few boyfriends and you had loved them.  If that wasn’t real, then would you really know if you are in love now?  You want to be fair to Jin.  It’s clear he loves you dearly from his story and Jimin’s story.  

And you don’t want to cling to Jin just because he’s there.  To latch on to him.  Another part of you reasons that you aren’t this way with any of the other boys.  It’s not like you want to sink into them like you want to sink into Jin.  You don’t want to be the only person they see like the way you want Jin to look at you.  Only Jin.  

Jin has returned to fishing.  You can feel the way his arms hold strong against the resistance of the water as the line drags, his embrace tightening around you every now and then.  He seems to absentmindedly rub his cheek against your head.  Your ear is pressed to his chest and you can hear his heartbeat over the fluttering wind.  Despite how steadily he’s been holding you, not just in this moment, but from the first moment you woke up, you’re aware that this whole situation hasn’t been fair or kind to him either.  

You don’t know how long the both of you stand there like that, with you tucked into him, shifting occasionally so he can recast his line.  When you next look up, the sun is higher in the sky and the day has warmed.  Jin glances down at your emergence and smiles, gently rubbing your cheek with one hand.

“The vest left an imprint on your face.”

You pout.  “I wouldn’t have been self-conscious about it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

“I was worried your face might feel sore.”

You resist leaning further into his touch.  “I’m okay.”

“Are you bored yet?”  He assesses you.  “We can start heading in.”

“But you haven’t caught anything yet.”

“There are definitely days Yoongi and I don’t catch anything.  The captain usually gives us whatever he catches if we don’t so we can at least still have sashimi after.”

You lean further back onto the railing because it’s hard to look at him directly with him so near.  “We can stay a little longer.”

He brushes your hair back, which is useless with the wind still blowing, but it feels nice.  “Wanna play a game?”

“I don’t know.  If it’s a fish naming game, I only know like five fish and I’m pretty sure one of them is a mammal, so really, I only know like four fish.”  You’re pleased that you make him laugh.  It’s not the windshield wiper laugh, but a deeper one from his chest.  The vibrations it sends through you is thrilling.  

“Well, there goes my idea.  What game do you wanna play?”

You’re not that good at games and you don’t know many games.  The ones that come to mind are Truth or Dare or Never Have I Ever.  The latter seems like a bad idea when your memory is so messed up, and as much as you want the truth, you don’t particularly want to participate in any dares.  The idea of truths sticks though.

“Um, how about Fact or Fiction?  I state something and you tell me if it’s fact or fiction.”

Jin bites his lip, unsure.  You pull on the ties of his vest and play with the buckles.  You know he’s worried about overstepping the Rules.  He has no idea that the Rules have already been mangled beyond recognition.

“Alright.  Hit me.”  

“Really?  You’ll play?”  You’re a little surprised he gave in, but you can tell he’s fond of how excited you are.  

“I’ll play.”  He laughs as you wiggle from a sudden burst of energy, your mind racing with things you want to ask.  There’s just too much and you’re worried that he won’t answer or you’ll push him too far, so you decide to start small.

“Your favorite color is pink.”

He scoffs.  “You already know that one.  Fact.”

“What?  I have to create a baseline.”

“Oh, am I taking a polygraph now?”

“Shush.  Your favorite food is sashimi.”

He rolls his eyes.  “Fact.”

“You have 20/20 vision.”

“Fiction.”  That gives you pause.  You know he sometimes wears glasses, but you thought it was more for aesthetics.  

“Really?  So are you wearing contacts?”

“No.  I got lasik.”

“Oh.”

“You got lasik too.”  Whoa, hold the phone.  

Actually, now that you think about it, dream you had glasses and wore contacts.  And since you woke up, you haven’t felt the need to wear any corrective eyewear.  With everything else going on, it wasn’t really something you thought about.  “I got lasik?”

Jin blushes.  “My vision was really bad and the company convinced me to get lasik, but I was…nervous about it.  So you went and got it first so you could coach me through the process.  I couldn’t not get it after you went and did that.”

“I should hope so,” you joke.  He huffs and squeezes you as you giggle.  You sputter a bit on a strand of hair that the wind blows in your face and catch him watching you.  “Were you scared?”

“Yes.  But you were with me every step of the way.”

“Good.”  You gather your hair and brush it all to the opposite side the wind is blowing.  “Fact or fiction?  You are a nightowl.”

“Fiction.  I usually sleep early, around 2100, and wake up earlier than the other guys.  I like to have some peace and quiet to center myself before the day starts.”  But he’s been staying up late with you.  Keeping you company, reassuring you.  Just another way you’ve rearranged his whole life.  No wonder Hobi wants you to stay away from Jin.  A finger boops your nose, breaking you from your mental spiral.  You scrunch your nose and look up at Jin.  “Say the next one.”

“Hobi-oppa has a problem with me,” spills from your mouth.

Jin’s grin dims and settles into something contemplative as he considers your statement.  “You heard the other night.”

You nod.  There’s no point in hiding it.  If you wanted to dispel any suspicions, you probably should have proceeded with the movie night, but you just couldn’t.  

“Hobi doesn’t have a problem with you.  He just—Sometimes I forget that you aren’t the only one affected by this…situation.  That I’m not the only one affected.  That each of us are affected.  We all deal with it in our own way and Hobi is dealing with it the best he can.  He blames himself for the situation—we all do—but he is especially hard on himself.”

“Why?”  You can see that Jin’s struggling to decide if it’s too much to tell you, his hands stilling from reeling.  “Please, Jin?”

He sighs and looks out at the water.  “Hobi was with you.  The both of you caught the sasaeng fishing out used tissues and water bottles from one of the dance studio trash cans.  Hobi was gonna talk to Bang PD-nim directly, but you said you’d handle it through proper channels because you work in HR, so he let it go.  He thinks he should have done more so you weren’t in the line of fire.  So that you hadn’t been targeted.”

Hobi feels guilty?  

He shouldn’t.  Sasaengs are notoriously unstable and you’re grateful that none of the boys were hurt.  If it happened all over again, you wouldn’t have changed anything.  It was your job and the boys are yours to protect.  

“So, Hobi might come off abrasive and controlling, but he’s simply…overprotective of you.  Of us.  He has a set choreography and gets worried when we step out of the careful lines he’s made to keep us safe.”  

Grudgingly, you understand.  Hobi’s always been more by the book.  And for all his projected sunshiney, carefree persona, he prefers to deal with tangible results.  Still.  

“I need him to cut me some slack or I’ll suffocate,” you quietly confess. 

Jin pulls your hands from his vest.  You don’t know what he’s done with the rod, but he warms your hands in his.  

“Jin.  I need answers.  I can’t keep living like this.”

His eyes search yours and you don’t know what he finds there, but finally, he nods.  “We’ll get through this.”

You’re not sure if he is trying to convince you or himself, but you silently think he shouldn’t make promises like that.

—

Soon after, Jin gives up for the day.  As he said, the captain has been successful and shares his bounty with Jin.  As you head back to land, Jin coaxes you into the Titanic pose and you both try to reenact the lines, giggling and improvising a few more.  He holds you from behind and at one point, he gathers your hair and grips it like a ponytail so that it stops whipping him in the face.  It takes everything in you not to let your mind wander into obscene scenarios with him tugging your hair like that.  

Jin takes you to a hole in the wall restaurant close to the docks.  His guards set up shop in one of the booths near the kitchen doors, but you’re led to a tiny table in the kitchen where the ajussi cook immediately prepares the sashimi from the fresh fish the captain caught.  Turns out the ajussi cook is the captain’s brother and he taught Jin how to filet fish and prepare sashimi, but Jin still likes it best when he prepares it.  With all the reminiscing and ribbing between the two, Jin simply says, “Food tastes better with good stories.”

The sashimi is accompanied with a myriad of other dishes, the table balancing a precarious number of plates.  And Jin is right.  The food tastes amazing.  Although that could also be because you haven’t eaten all day and you are starved.  When it’s time to go, the ajussi refuses payment, but Jin sticks a thick bundle of won into the tip jar as you exit.  

It’s only 1400 and you expect to head straight home, but instead, you find yourself at a noraebang.  You’re intimidated because who wants to sing next to a world renowned singer?  Jin is quick to quell your worries though, goofing off with trot and rap songs.  He even raps Jay-Z’s intro rap to Rihanna’s ‘Umbrella’ and you both come up with a zany interpretative dance.  He even gets his guards to leave their post and coerces them into doing a few Big Bang and TVXQ songs.  Jin kicks them out after they get a 100 score on their ‘Mirotic’ performance, jokingly complaining that they’re trying to upstage him.  You don’t remember ever having laughed so hard.

Jin convinces the driver to let him drive, so the driver joins his guards in a different vehicle.  Windows down, lazy tunes in the background, the day begins to catch up to you.  Somewhere in the middle of Jin telling you a childhood story about how Jungie-hyung forgot about him in the middle of hide and seek because he got distracted by a ppopgi cart, you fall asleep, lulled by his voice.

You’re woken with a gentle hand.  You sit up and smack your lips, mouth dry.  You hope you weren’t snoring or drooling.  You’re parked in front of a sprawling estate.  Jin helps you out of the car, which is for the best because you’re disoriented and distracted by your surroundings.  There’s a long, paved driveway lined with trees, the lawn crisply manicured.  Before you stands a two story house.  Most houses in Korea are historic or modern fortresses, but this house is similar to an English cottage.  It still has hanok influences in the trimming and modern influences around the big picture windows, but despite its size, it still looks cozy, teeming with flowers and plants and a smokey chimney.

“Wow,” you breathe, enchanted.  “This house is gorgeous.  I feel like we’re in a Studio Ghibli film.  Where are we?”  You turn to Jin who is carefully observing you.    

“I’ll tell you in a bit.  Walk with me?”  He takes your hand and you let him lead you down a side path into the garden.  The path leads around to the backyard where a natural pool channels off to feed the flowers and plants, a controlled chaos that is wildly elegant.  

The both of you sit on a small wooden bench, stretching out your legs as you both lean back and take in the garden.  The silence is comfortable.  It’s been a long day and being here feels like a well earned oasis.  The wind rustles the tops of the trees and birds call from the branches.  Dragonflies flit above the pool and butterflies glide among tiger lilies, hydrangeas, and delphinium.  

Jin has his eyes closed, head tilted back as a breeze runs through his hair, the last bits of sunlight painting his face in a golden light.  He seems untouchable like this.  An adonis carved of marble never to be sullied by mortal hands.  Yet here you sit, legs tangled, shoulder to shoulder, the heat belying the cold art of him.  He turns to look at you and something in his eyes looks fearful, nervous, resigned, and you think, being art must be lonely.  

The feeling that everything is about to change seeps into you.  Jin looks at you like he’s trying to memorize you, one hand holding yours and the other coming up to cup your cheek.  His palm follows the curve of your cheek to your jaw and his thumb brushes against your lips.  Your breath stutters and his eyes dip to where your chest heaves.  It feels like you’re standing at a precipice, and the only thing anchoring you is Jin’s hold on you.  He holds on to you so tightly trying to keep you there even as the void calls to you to step back and jump.   

“Jin,” you whisper.  He lowers his hand.  “Kiss me.”

Jin’s eyes drop to your lips before his eyes pierce yours with a determination that sets fire to you.  His lips meet yours and the sweet bliss of it cracks your insides like the first bite of creme brulee.  You share a shaky breath as his arms pull you into his lap, his tongue swiping your lip before delving into you, savoring you with every curl of his tongue against your own.  His hand leaves goosebumps as it brushes up your arms and cradles your head, your hands trapped against his chest.  

It feels like everything Jin can’t say is in this kiss.  His claim.  His love.  His declaration that he is yours.  His worship and delight.  His grief and anguish.  And just as it fills your heart and soul with home, home, home, there’s a whisper, a red hot knife’s edge of a farewell that cuts you even as it brands you, ruined for anyone else.  

With one last press of his lips to yours, Jin pulls back.  His eyes are naked like all his strength went into the kiss and now he’s left defenseless.  All you see is don’t go, don’t go, don’t go and you desperately want to tell him that you’re not going anywhere, but you can’t.  You need to jump.  

Jin carefully leads you to the front door of the house.  Your stomach swoops as you anticipate the jump.  He raises his hand and knocks on the door and it seems to echo heavily like a gavel at your sentencing.  There’s no turning back as the door opens.  

“Y/N!  I’m so glad you could make it,” Areum says, cheerfully.  She swings the door wider.  “Come in!  We’re only halfway done cooking, so I hope you don’t mind keeping Byeol company.”

“Of course not.”  Jin’s tight grip on you loosens as you enter, but you stop when you realize he’s not following you.  Areum continues on, but you turn back to him.  The sun has almost set, the twilight casting him in shadow, eyes unreadable again.  “You’re not coming.”

“Someone will come pick you up when you’re done,” he says evenly.  Someone.  Not Jin.  

You don’t know what you’ll find here that scares Jin so much. You think you’re in love with him, but you can’t quite trust yourself.  It’s hard to trust yourself when he’s looking at you like you’re about to leave him forever.  But there’s one thing you do know.  

You come up to him and press your lips to his.  When you step back, he looks a little dazed, surprised.  Pleased, you say, “Fact.  I’m yours.”

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A/N: So, Christmas and New Years both fall on Mondays this year.

A computer cooling fan is whirring with a coded beep every few minutes, but you don’t own a computer or laptop.  Honking vehicles from traffic is muffled through glass, but your home is on a corner with a stop sign.  A faucet is lazily dripping close by, but your bathroom is next to the kitchen on the other side of the house.

Your eyes snap open and the first thing you register is pale gray morning light and computer monitors illuminating the room.  Strange, since you religiously use black out curtains and usually can’t sleep if you mentally know there’s a light source in the room.  That’s why the little red indicator on the TV in your room has black tape over it.  There is no TV in this room.  

Next on the list of strange are the wooden beams exposed on a vaulted ceiling, a far cry from your cookie-cutter popcorn ceiling.  White walls instead of navy painted walls.  Even more alarming, the feel of fine silk sheets compared to your Target-brand cotton ones.  You didn’t know you could discern how expensive fabric is by skin contact alone, but you decide to put a pin in it because your stark nakedness is taking top priority in the forefront of your mind.  Alarmed, you lunge up, jarringly wide awake and alert, dragging the aforementioned silk sheets with you.  Expensive they may be, but a poor shield to the cold of the unknown.

The room’s decor is, in polite terms, eccentric.  Simple maroon bedspread, no extra pillows, but instead swimming in a sea of Maplestory plushies.  Messy desk with a triple monitor gaming PC.  An alarming amount of Mario figurines scattered about.  It would honestly read otaku frat bedroom if it wasn’t for the sturdy, non-IKEA bed frame, the matching nightstands and reading sconces, the balcony sliding door with actual drapes sashed on either side, and the matching patio furniture beyond.  An adult otaku bedroom then, which you honestly can’t judge because your own room is a shrine to seven Korean men who have no idea you exist.  You shake your head from that distracting rabbit hole because, hello, you’re naked.  Your priorities should be finding clothes, finding your phone, getting home, and THEN daydreaming about BTS.  

On the nightstand closest to you sits neatly folded pajamas and a sticky note.  The handwritten script is blurry at first.  You have to squint and when they come into focus, it almost looks familiar. 

“If you’re freaking out because you’re naked, it’s your own fault.  You said fuck it and took off your clothes anyway.”  

You press your fingers to your temple.  Ugh.  Of course.  Did you get blackout drunk again last night?  Are the Consequences of your actions, with a capital C, catching up to you?  However, your despair is interrupted because you can’t help noticing the design of the pajamas.  Holy shit.  This original striped BT21 RJ design is no longer in production, reselling for hundreds of dollars on Ebay, AND it’s in your size.

The sound of a distant door creaking open lights a fire under your ass.  With a quiet gasp, you leap off the bed and panic-shove your limbs into the pajamas as you hear footsteps pad in the distance and a door clicking closed.  You pause to listen for any other movement.  Hearing none, you rummage around for your iPhone, haphazardly stripping the bed of sheets, punting the now scattered plushies to scour under the bed, and combing through the nightstands and the desk.  Unfortunately, you come up empty.  Without your phone, you feel naked yet again, weaponless without the tool to call for help and no way to accurately retrace your steps from last night.

This could all be a prank, but you don’t know anyone who would take it this far.  Your eternal roommate and cousin, Jo, is like a big sis to you and would never go this far.  You also couldn’t be at a hookup’s home since lately you haven’t had the energy to get it on.  You’re pretty sure the last thing you did was fold laundry with Jo, and then you passed out while listening to “Tonight” on your sleep playlist and hugging RJ, so, drunken blackout/hookup theory was out.  But the biggest clue–You unlock the balcony door and step out.  Looking around at the sleepy cityscape, you think, “I’m definitely not in smalltown Sheboygan, Wisconsin anymore.”

Clusters of skyscrapers brush the sky.  Businesses and apartment buildings crowd each other with scattered green squares of what you assume to be parks.  There’s a distant river cut by steel bridges.  Taxis and cars wend around wide six-lane streets.  The apartment building you're in is frickin’ tall.  You’re not used to buildings going beyond ten stories, but you must be at least 20 stories high.  You’re not sure if it’s vertigo or the overwhelming anxiety building, but your vision begins to blur around the edges as air struggles to enter your lungs.  You force yourself to slow your breathing as your heart batters your sternum like sharp lead and your brain races like a runaway train with its breaklines cut because you can’t make sense of how you could be wherever here is.  Plopping yourself down on a cushioned seat, you squeeze your eyes shut, teeth barred.  You must be having a dream, a very vivid dream.  Your forearm scrapes against paper where another sticky note has adhered itself to you.  

“This is not a dream.”  

….Okaaaaaay.  That was convincing.  You stumble back inside and weigh your options.  Make a ruckus and demand answers from whoever lives here?  Or avoid people and sneak out?  

Haha, who are you kidding?  Of course, Plan Sneak Out wins by a landslide because confrontation is not your middle name.  You’re not even sure if you’re not still dreaming despite all these helpful little sticky notes, which you discover also label the three doors in the room.  

“Walk-in closet.”

“Hallway.”

“Bathroom.”

Thank you, mysterious sticky notes.  You head to the hall and quietly close the door behind you, pausing in puzzlement.  Another sticky note on this side of the door reads, “Jin”, which, of all things, almost pushes you over the edge into nonsensical laughter.  It’s the same name as your BTS bias.  What a coincidence.  

The door you exit is the last one at the very end.  More doors line either side of the hall, leading to an entryway illuminated by a soft warm light.  All is quiet as you slowly sneak towards the entryway, reading the sticky notes that label the doors with increasing incredulity.  

“Yoongi”

“JK”

“Tae & Jimin”

“Namjoon”

“Hobi”

Ha.  There’s just no way.  No.  Way.  Nope.  This is a sign.  A sign that you’ve gone crazy.  You’ve finally gone full delulu.  This is what you get for reading fanfics until two in the morning.  Tumblr was fine, but when you got sucked into the trenches of AO3, you knew you were on a one way trip down the Montero stripper pole to hell.  You nervously tug and tease a loose thread on your limited edition pajamas and debate throwing your consciousness off the speeding train in your head, wondering if it would hurt as badly psychologically as it would physically.  You just wanna return to Jin’s bed–Ha!  Jin’s bed–and go back to sleep, hoping it’s all just a weird dream you can laugh about later.  

There is no clear exit to be seen.  All the doors so far have been labeled.  Could it be a trick?  Could one of those doors actually be the exit?  The thought of having to test those doors with the possibility of finding someone on the other side has you near hyperventilating.  Five, four, three, two, one.  Okay.  The Five Senses trick to deescalate your panic attack.  What five things do you see?  Five, you see a black leather sectional with a sizeable mess of blankets.  Four, you see a dimly lit chandelier over an industrial dining table.  Three, you see an open concept living room with an impressively large flat screen TV that almost takes up an entire wall and a modern kitchen with a sturdy island range stovetop.  Two, you see floor to ceiling windows that stretch the length of the east wall, if the sun peeking behind the cityscape is any indication.  One, you see six sticky notes lined in intervals on the glass wall.

What four things do you feel?  Four, the hem of your thin cotton pajamas is becoming damp from your sweat as you rub it between your fingers.  Three, the black stone wall is smooth as you run your hand along the length.  Two, you press your palm against the biting chill of the windowpane.  One, you tug on the crisp yellow paper and read the first sticky note.

“1. You’re in Seoul, Korea.”  

The view of the city is incredible and you try to find any foreign indication that the note speaks truth.  The signs on the buildings and electronic billboards don’t seem to be in Hangul, but you’re definitely not in Sheboygan.  You could be in Chicago for all you know, but the note definitely said Seoul.  You’re not really in Seoul, are you?  You move onto the next note.

“2. You really are in Seoul.”

It’s almost like the sticky notes are talking to you.

“3. These notes are talking to you.”

A hysterical giggle bubbles in your throat.  There are three more sticky notes between this and the last one.  There’s no way these sticky notes could predict your exact thoughts.  You skip to the last sticky note.  Ha!  Take that!  This is all just in your head after all.

“4. This is not all in your head.  Nice try.”

A straitjacket and a padded room suddenly sound like the safest place for you. Okay.  Focus on not panicking.  You’re fine.  Everything’s fine.  If you mumble this mantra to yourself enough times, maybe the universe will take pity on you.  What three things can you hear?  Three, you hear the whisper of wind against the windows.  Two, the sound of running water.  One, a machine jingles cutely, prompting you to search for the source.  No, no, no, you mustn’t wake any of the residents before you can get out.  

You rush to the kitchen and discover it’s the coffeemaker signaling the end of its task.  After a brief once over of all the complicated buttons, you unplug it because there’s no way you’re gonna find the off button.  What two things do you smell?  Two, One, the scent of the Biolage shampoo you have on rotation cleanly cuts through the dark velvet of coffee that permeates the large space.  

Taste.  You’re not a die hard coffee fan.  You make the occasional stop at Starbucks, but it’s more for the sugar rush than anything.  Still, you pour some coffee into an already waiting mug to fulfill the last step of your panic attack deescalation.  You take a careful sip of the bitter liquid, and the warmth that settles in your belly is soothing even though you’re pretty sure caffeine and anxiety shouldn’t mix.

Wait a tick.  You poured coffee into an already waiting mug–

The pile of messy blankets on the couch comes to life.  Your heart beats a loud thundering bass in your eardrums as a man rises from the couch.  If you weren’t delulu before, you are now, because Kim Seokjin is standing not even 30 paces from you, his dark hair sticking up in mussy awkward angles as he rubs his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen.  You jump back to clear a path to the coffee machine.  He shuffles past you, half lidded, and sleepily paws at the space where his coffee cup is supposed to be.  You slide it onto the counter near him, which his hand magnetizes to almost instantly.  You weren’t even sure he was aware of you, but he takes a sip and turns to lazily observe you.  

Raspy from sleep, a deep voice you’ve only heard through a screen or microphone asks you, “So, what kind of day is this?  Did you skip to Note 4?”

You’re so shocked that THE Kim Seokjin is speaking to you that all you can muster is a dumbfounded, “What?”  

Is he talking to you?  You surreptitiously scan the room because he couldn’t be talking to you, right?  He peers at you with concern over his steamy mug.  “Did you skip to Note 4?”  He points to the yellow sticky notes on the window wall.  Both of you automatically turn to look at the notes and then back to each other.

“Erm, yeah?”  

“Ah, it’s a blue day,” Jin says, his plump lips turning up into a doughy smile reminiscent of Yoongi’s.  He walks over to the fridge and picks a blue sticky note off.  Uncertainly, you take it when he hands it to you.  The fridge also has a smattering of green, pink, purple, and orange sticky notes, which he begins to gather.  

Jin is shorter than you thought he’d be.  Of course, he’s tall, two heads taller than you, but having only ever observed him larger than life through a screen or from a long distance on stage, he just seems so…normal.  Double-jointed fingers, most every Jin stan worships, neatly stack the multi-colored sticky notes onto his palm.  From this angle, you can see another hall and a door that seems likely to be the exit past Jin, jackets hung on hooks and an orderly shoe rack near it being the biggest clue.  You don’t know how you feel that the sticky note on that door has one simple word written on it in big bold letters.  

“STOP”  

Are these sticky notes trying to stop you from leaving?  Why?  It’s not like you’ve been one hundred percent on board with these sticky notes so far, but the one on the exit door has you more on guard now than ever.  This would be the best time to flee, but you hesitate, glancing at Jin who is now assessing you in a way that feels expectant.

Suddenly self-conscious, you lick your dry lips and run your fingers through your hair.  Your fingers snag on a knot as a thought occurs to you.  Jin seems much too calm and nonchalant faced with you, a total stranger and potential sasaeng.  You clear your throat and test the waters.  “Good morning.”

Jin flashes a grin at you.  “Good morning.”

Dazed, you bow, stuttering, “Um, I–I’m Y/N.”

He sips his coffee, an amused smile playing on his lips.  “Yeah, I know.”

“You…know?” He knows your name?  Kim motherfucking Seokjin knows your name.  “And you’re Kim Seokjin, Worldwide Handsome, also known as Jin of BTS.”

Your word vomit has you wanting to die on the spot.  Jin huffs a laugh.  “Are you gonna start reciting my birthday, astrological sign, and MBTI results next?”

December 4, 1992.  Sagittarius.  INTP.  You think it, but self preservation has you blessedly silent.  His eyes twinkle like he knows what you’re thinking anyway.  “...but we don’t know each other,” you continue.

Jin yawns and scratches at his collarbone where the buttons are undone on his pajamas.  “We don’t?” he inquires with a lazy grin.  Did you somehow forget that you know Jin? That's not possible. Having any sort of relationship with any of the boys would be a dream come true. So then how is this not a core memory?  

You recall that Spongebob episode where all the personifications of his abstract thoughts rifled through mazes of filing cabinets in his brain to locate his own name and you imagine something similar is going on in your own head, trying to determine your relationship with Jin.  It doesn't help that you can see his collarbone, his unbuttoned shirt, and his disarming grin–it’s distracting.  He’s very distracting and you’ve gotta get a grip on yourself.  Your sanity is hanging on by a thread and you’re trying not to be the weird demented fangirl that you truly are.

You discreetly suck your drool back in, at least you hope you do, and comment, “I didn’t know you spoke English so well.”

“Of course, I’m amazing at everything I do,” Jin says, stretching.  Dear gawd, was that a sliver of belly?  “But, alas, we’re speaking Korean right now.”

Say what now?  “No, I’m speaking English.”

“You’re speaking fluent Korean and I barely know the English ABCs,” Jin informs you.  His eyes suddenly crinkle mischievously.  “Hey, why can’t bears live without bees?”

The sudden joke comes out of left field, and for the life of you, you can’t think of a clever response.  “Um, because bees make honey?”

“Because without b’s, bears are just ears!”  Jin’s windshield wiper laugh fills the room and you simply gape at him.  The joke wasn’t all that good, but his laugh sparks mini-shocks through you like fuzzy static and you can’t help but smile.  Jin wipes fake tears from his eyes and tilts his head at you.  You don’t want to read too much into it, but his gaze on you almost feels fond in a familiar way, which it couldn’t be.  Ridiculous.  

Jin gestures to the sticky note forgotten in your hand.  “You should read that,” he says kindly.

You nod assent and smooth the blue paper. 

“You’re safe.  You’re okay.  Trust Jin, or whoever gave you this note.  Joon, Yoongi, Hobi, Tae, Jimin, and Kookie are your friends.  Everything’s going to be fine.  I gotchu, bitch.  - Y/N”

It is clearly your signature.  The revelation has you off kilter.  You woke up in BTS’ condo in what is apparently Seoul, Korea.  Jin knows you.  The boys are your friends.  You wrote these notes.  So you should trust the notes, right?  Trust Jin.  You look up to meet his bright eyes.

“So, we do know each other,” you state, tentatively.

He tries to reassure you with a smile.  “We do.  There’s a lot to talk about and catch you up on, but first, I think we should eat breakfast.  How about I cook while you go get cleaned up?  Your clothes are in the walk-in closet in my room if you wanna take a shower.”

He drinks his coffee as he waits for an answer.  Food and a shower sound amazing right now.  The conflict of your fight or flight instincts is steadily numbing and you just want to shut down.  But, speaking of clothes, “Hey, Jin?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did I wake up naked in your bed?”

Jin chokes and coughs, spraying coffee on himself.  His ears turn red and he averts his eyes.  The expression on his face can only be described as someone caught between a rock and a hard place, but he quickly schools it into something apathetic.  “Oh?  You were naked in my bed?" he wheezes, throat rough from coughing.  "I don’t know about your sleeping preferences, but what I do know is that you came over for drinks last night...and passed out here.  You were naked?  In my bed?  Hmm, weird.”

Oh yeah.  That was absolutely convincing.  “And why was I sleeping in your bed instead of the couch?”

Jin sets the coffee down and rips a few paper towels to pat the front of his pajamas.  We’re wearing a matching set, actually.  He adopts an affronted attitude and explains, “I’ll have you know that I am the perfect host, and as the perfect host, I would never let a guest sleep on the couch.  Especially on that monstrosity, which is more modern art than couch.”  

The sectional does look uncomfortable.  You’re not satisfied with his answer, but the blush of his ears has extended to his neck, the rosy pink deepening into an almost crimson flush.  Entertained, you decide to be pacified for now.  “Breakfast sounds good.  I’ll go shower now.”  

It’s almost funny how relieved the set of Jin’s wide shoulders look with your decision to leave the matter to rest–for now.  You leave him to his ministrations and head to his bedroom. You read the names on the sticky notes as you once again traverse the hall, now in the opposite direction, and marvel at what your day is now.  Closing the door behind you, the kitchen comes to life with muffled clangs of pots and pans.  

Leaning against the door, you read the note again.  You’re safe.  You’re okay.  Everything’s going to be fine.  Well, that remains to be seen.  As interactions go, you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Jin.  It honestly could have gone a lot worse.  At least you didn’t scream or faint.  The glory that is Kim Seokjin is really something else in person.  Pictures and videos don’t do the real him justice.  You’re slowly coming to terms that all of this is real.  The texture of the carpet beneath your bare feet, the sound of the other members rousing, the small ache of hunger in your belly, you can’t deny that it’s all actually happening.  

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you become aware that you’ve been on autopilot.  You’ve made the bed, stacked the Maplestory plushies, threw blankets into the hamper in the walk-in closet, and are now standing in front of the bathroom mirror, all as if your body is used to this routine.  You turn on the shower, wait for it to warm up and then step into the relaxing stream.  Jo would love the giant rain showerhead.

Wait, Jo!  Does she know you’re here?  Is she waking up alone and confused in an empty apartment wondering where you are?  Your concern has you clutching the slick tiles.  You hyperfixate on the warmth of the water, mentally following the path down your head, from your hair, along the skin of your back over your rump to stream down your legs and over your achilles to lightly pool at your feet.  As your body relaxes and the high from your Jin interaction subsides, your thoughts sink into gray worry and cautiousness.  Jin said there was a lot to talk about.  Answers were coming soon, but still you don’t quite feel right in your skin.

Fact.  You are Y/N.  You are 25 years old and you’re from Sheboygan, Wisconsin.  You work at Kohler Water Spa and you live an ordinary life.  You speak English.  You don’t know Korean…right?  You rinse shampoo out of your hair and mentally focus to discern if you’re thinking in English or Korean, hoping to pin down the voice in your head visually.  Results are inconclusive.  You can actually feel your brain throbbing in protest.   

Fact.  You are in Korea.  Seoul.  Hannam the Hill.  You wrote the sticky notes.  You can’t help that your thoughts go wild with theories.  Maybe you sleepwalked–sleep flew??--here?  You were kidnapped?  By BTS?  Jin allegedly knows you.  At least, he didn’t seem surprised to see you this morning, and in fact, seemed downright comfortable enough to subject you to his world famous puns.  Ugh, you wish Jo was here.  She’d know what to do.  You’d call her if you could find your phone.    

You soap your body and you think, any self-respecting Army would be ecstatic over something like this happening to them.  Acknowledged as a friend of BTS, well enough to be showering in their shower, sleeping in their bed, and eating food cooked by Jin.  Given the opportunity, you assumed you'd be thrilled, happy, and grateful.  Faced with the reality, you feel alien, like you’re not where you’re supposed to be.  The Army in you says fuck where you’re supposed to be.  Take this opportunity and run with it.  But it would be much more enjoyable if you had your bearings.  Sure you could fake like you had your shit together, but shit has literally hit the fan.

Your hands stutter to a halt.  Something suddenly feels not quite right, as if the negative thoughts have now physically manifested on your body.  You have the same straight hair.  The same soft hands and neat nails.  The same lithe body, but there are scars on your arms, torso, and belly. What the fuck happened?  Were you in an accident?  Is that why you don't remember anything?  The scars look old though.  You can barely see them but the indentations are there, marring your otherwise normally smooth skin.  Something to ask Jin about later.

After getting out of the shower, brushing your teeth and generously partaking of Jin’s skincare products, you head over to the walk-in closet.  Women’s clothes and shoes line two of the four walls.  They might all belong to you because they seem to be the right size and style you favor.  After dressing yourself, you step back into the bedroom and almost brain yourself on the door jam because Jin is sitting on the bed next to a tray with two plates of pork belly, white rice, sauteed bok choy and kimchi.  

“Ready to eat?” he asks, offering a glass of water to you.

You settle across from him, accepting the glass.  “Thank you for the meal.”  He smiles and nods.  The both of you eat, lost in thought in the quiet.  You try to focus on the food in front of you, but his eyes are searing into you, and you squirm a bit, feeling very much like a wriggly amoeba under his microscope.  

Giving up your act of indifference, you peer up at him. His cheeks are puffed out like a squirrel as he chews.  It’s disgusting how endeared you are by how adorably ridiculous he looks.  He stuffs an impossibly huge clump of rice into his mouth.  Your expression of disbelief has his face scrunching into the biggest smile, and he starts to laugh, which is a big mistake.  He’s now choking on the rice, violently coughing, and you’re pounding his back shouting admonitions at him, as he debates spitting the rice out or forcing a swallow.  The door slams open and Yoongi bursts into the room.  All three of you freeze, you with your hand mid-air ready to pound Jin’s back again, Jin with his palm open under his mouth to catch the rice he has decided to abort, and Yoongi eyes wide watching the chaotic scene unfold.  You don’t know who starts first, but you and Jin are laughing so hard that you’re gasping for air and Yoongi harrumphs, judging the pair of you from the doorway.

“You guys are so weird.”  He pushes back his yellow bleached hair and rolls his feline eyes, but you spy the twitch of his lips as he holds back a smile.  “Good morning, Y/N.”  

So casual.  So unperturbed.  So normal.  “Good morning, Yoongi-ssi,” you squeak nervously.

Ssi.  So you ARE speaking Korean.

Yoongi does a double take, eyebrows furrowed.  “Yoongi-ssi??”  

Jin tells him, “It’s a blue note day.”  

Yoongi nods, expression still concerned, but clearing of confusion.  “Ah, a blue day.  Understood.  Let me know if you need anything, Y/N.  You have my number,” he offers with a smile and backs out. Before he shuts the door completely, he peeks in again. “Oh, also, if you guys decide to die or kill each other, can you do it quietly?  Some of us are working or still sleeping.  Later.”  With that, he leaves.  You and Jin glance at each other, and then sputter into laughter again.  Jin is falling over and you have to hold the tray steady from disaster. 

When you finally recover your lungs and Jin’s amused hiccups die down, he sets the tray on the floor.  “So, you have questions.  I’m here to answer them,” Jin says, earnest kindness projected in every word.

Surprisingly, but maybe not so surprisingly, the first question out of your mouth is, “Where’s my phone?”  

“Ah.  You want to call Jo, right?”

“How did you know?  Do you know Jo too?”  Jin shakes his head with a smile that says he knows you and knows you well, which both excites and worries you.  

"I don't know Jo.”  He pauses, then says, “But you shouldn’t call her.”  

“Why shouldn’t I call her?  She’s the very first person I should be calling,” you say matter-of-factly.

“You wanna call Jo.  And then your mom, and then your ‘kids’--cousins, to be precise, but, Y/N.  I don’t know how to tell you this except to just tell you bluntly.  They…don’t know who you are.”

Something isn’t computing.  Synapses not synapsing.  Brain not braining.  “What does that even mean?” you ask carefully.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  Why wouldn’t they know me?  Jo is my cousin.  My mom is my mom.  And my other cousins are like my babies.”

“Well, yes…but not here.  Not in the real world,” Jin says cryptically.

“I don’t understand.  What do you mean ‘the real world’?”

He hesitates, and then sallies on. “Here are the hard facts and truths of the real world.  Your name is Y/N.  You are 25 years old.  You work at Big Hit in the human resources department.  You’re an orphan.  You have no family. ”  

You scoff in disbelief and growing indignation.  “You can’t be serious.  I’m an orphan?”

“It’s the truth,” he says solemnly.  All traces of your previously shared hilarity have disappeared into the ether.  “But I’m here for you. We are here for you. Namoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook are your closest friends.  All of us are like family and you’re part of that family."

All this information is giving you whiplash.  "How am I supposed to believe all that?"

"Please, believe me," he pleads.  "You’ve tried calling Jo before, and it didn’t go over so well.  Actually, Jo handles it pretty well.  She’s really nice. We even flew her to Korea one time.  She’s a hoot, but you didn’t handle it very well.  You kept trying to make it something that it isn’t and just disappointed yourself because, like I said, Jo doesn’t know you.”

“And what is up with that?”  You throw up your hands in frustration.

“With what?”

“That!  You keep talking as if this happens all the time.  Do I have amnesia?  Short-term memory?  Am I crazy?”  You wonder if you’re going crazy.  Have you finally cracked?  

Jin gathers your hands in his and your reeling stumbles to a halt.  These sensations don't feel dream-like.  The boniness of his fingers gripping yours.  The warmth of his palms.  They feel like an anchor trying to keep you from floating away, but you’re pretty sure the string on your kite isn’t even attached to you anymore.  Jin’s thumbs rub circles on your skin.  “You are not crazy,” he assures you.  “You do have a memory issue, but we’ve got this handled.  You’re aware this happens.  That’s why you’ve written all these notes for yourself.”

His eyes haven’t left yours for one moment, and there’s a part of you that feels like he’s trying to convey more to you, but you just can’t decipher what it is.  You’re at a loss for words.  Did you dream up your whole life?  Is this really your life?

He gently drops your hands and scrubs his face.  “I’m not doing a good job explaining all of this.”

“You really aren’t,” you say with a small smile.  You feel your smile involuntarily tremble and you’re embarrassed to find that your eyes are beginning to water, but you do your best to swallow it in, biting your lip.  You refuse to cry in front of this man.  Jin says he knows you, but he’s essentially a stranger.  You don’t really know him.  You know idol Jin, but you don’t know Seokjin.

“Look.  I know this is a lot to take in,” Jin says gently.  “You take all the time you need.  I already told corporate that you’ll be taking off this next week, so you can relax and figure things out.”

Relax?  In BTS’ condo?  “So do I live here with you guys?”

“What?  No.  Don’t be ridiculous.  You live a few floors down.”  He thinks you’re being ridiculous?  In all the realms of possibilities, this, of all things, is a ridiculous notion?

“Then why are my clothes in the closet?” you ask.

“Convenience for sleepovers?”  

“Was that a question or a statement?”

Caught, he tries to reel things back on track, explaining, “You’re here about fifty percent of the time anyway.  Why wouldn’t you keep some things here?”

“Yeah, ‘some’ things.  Not half a closet.  And why your closet?”

“Is my closet not good enough for you?” he asks in mock-indignation.  You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but you feel like you’re back at square one.  His explanations have only given you more questions and you feel adrift.  You’re an orphan.  The people you thought you knew are strangers.  You don’t know anyone in Korea.  Jin, Yoongi, and the rest of the boys are all strangers too.  You feel alone and–

“Jin.  I think I want to be alone right now.”  You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill, your throat thick.

You hear him get up.  He hesitates at the door.  “Y/N–” he starts to say, an emotion you can’t figure out coloring your name, but then he thinks better of it, stopping.  “Ahem.  I have a meeting with my brother I can’t miss, but I’ll be back soon.  If you want to go to your apartment, just let one of the guys know and they’ll escort you.  Take all the time you need in here.”  

And with that, he leaves you.  The door clicks shut.  You feel like you’re underwater, like you’re sitting at the bottom of the ocean, the pressure squeezing your lungs.  You feel fragile, like you’ll shatter at any moment.  Slowly, you get up to shut the drapes on the balcony sliding door, blocking out the morning sun now shining cheerfully and the city abuzz.  You carefully remove the plushies off the bed and hide yourself beneath the silk duvet.  Burying your head into the pillows first, you then allow yourself to weep, gasping on sobs.  

None of this makes any sense.  How can your most precious memories and relationships be fiction?  You’ve always tried your best to be a good daughter, a good granddaughter, a good cousin, a good friend.  How could your whole life be a lie?   Jin and Yoongi were friendly and seemed to genuinely want to help you, but you have the sneaking feeling that there’s something else going on.  Things like this don’t happen for no reason.

You don’t know how long you cry for, but eventually you run out of tears.  As you drift into the welcome oblivion of sleep, you wonder if you’ll wake up at home to the sound of your fridge humming, the ice maker clacking, the telephone poles buzzing outside your window, and the floorboards creaking as a loved one gets ready for work.  

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“Come eat.  We had leftover Samgyetang, so I thought if your headache is still bothering you, you might like some.”  He gestures for you to approach, so you sit cross-legged across from him.

“Thank you for the meal,” you say with the best smile you can muster, and the both of you dig in.  

Out of all the members, Hobi’s guard is up against you with his ability to read through your machinations.  All the other members take you at face value for the most part, but he’ll be the one you can fool the least.  If you had known it would come to this, you wouldn’t have flouted your verbal talents to Hobi that first day with Namjoon.  You prepare for battle with a deep breath and place a piece of chicken in Hobi’s bowl of rice.  

“So what’s up?  I didn’t expect to see you today with your schedule.”  

“I just wanted to check in cuz’ it seemed like you’ve been off lately.  We never did get to have that slumber party.”

Your nerves spike because it feels like he’s fishing.  “I did tell you guys that I was already exhausted.  Maybe we can try again soon?”

“That’s right.  You mentioned you had lunch with Jieun-noona and a friend?  How’d that go by the way?”  

Hobi completely skips over your question and you’re alarmed at the sudden change in topic.  Does he know about Jihoon?  You don’t want to reveal your only outside ally.  

“Lunch was good.  I got plenty of rest,” you say vaguely.  “Actually, I feel like I should apologize to Areum-unnie about rescheduling dinner, but I don’t have her number.  That’s strange though because she mentioned I should have it.  Could I get her number from you?  You talked to her, right?”

Even though this back and forth has you dancing on your toes, you carefully observe Hobi as he eats.  He looks unbothered, savoring his food and placing bites he thinks you’ll like in your bowl.  He wipes his mouth in thought.

“I don’t know her number off the top of my head, so I’ll text it to you later.”

“Sure.  I know how busy you are.  Thank you, Hobi-oppa.”

“You’ve been busy too,” he notes almost too casually.

“Not so much.”  Where is he going with this?

“Well, you were so exhausted Thursday that you passed out.  We were worried when you didn’t show up, you know.  I was talking with the others and you don’t have to work.  You’ve got plenty of savings.”  

And there it is.  You thought you could avoid the topic of your ‘house arrest’ until Monday with Bang PD-nim.  You try not to let your annoyance eek out.

“I actually don’t know what I have in savings.  No one’s given me any sort of banking information.  Would you happen to know how I can check that out?”

Hobi drops a chopstick in his bowl, but he quickly picks it up.  Interesting.  That was a total shot in the dark and now a point of interest for you.  He resumes eating.  “We’re the POAs of your finances until your health issue is resolved.”

“All of you guys are my POAs?”  Look at that.  Something else that smells fishy.  

Hobi again completely disregards your question.  “Anyway, we’ve got you covered financially.  I think we’d all feel better if you took a break and just looked after yourself.”

“All of you already do so much for me.  I couldn’t possibly rely on your charity.  And I am looking after myself.  You guys keep your money and I’ll keep working.”

“We’ve seriously got so much money, we don’t know what to do with it.”

“Donate it,” you suggest, trying not to snap at him.  

The tension is now noticeable.  You wanna thud your head on the table.  So much for staying pleasant.  This whole conversation has gone completely off the rails.

“Y/N.  You okay?”  Hobi is giving you his full attention, pushing his food away.  Great.

“I’m fine,” you try to sound convincing.  You take a deep breath and look him in the eye, searching within yourself for some lingering affection you have for him and the members.  And the thing is, even with this sense of betrayal that has gutted you, you don’t have to look far for that affection.  It’s still right there.  It isn’t even really tangible.  This love you have for Hobi is as easy as breathing, only now it’s accompanied with a deep sadness.  

It’s too early in the day and too suspect to be so sappy.  Instead, you transform some of this tension into innocent brattiness and channel your inner maknae wiles on him.  

“I really wanna work, Hobi-oppa.  If I don’t have anything to do, I swear I’ll go stir crazy, and going to work makes me feel normal.  I really wanna feel normal.”

Everything you say is true, but you exaggerate your puppy eyes and pout.  Manipulative?  Yes.  Necessary?  Also, yes.  Hobi groans and tries not to look at you head on.  

“Stop it.  You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Please, please, please, oppa.  I promise I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

He makes the mistake of side eyeing you, but that doesn’t diminish the power of your pout.  Exasperated, he sighs, “Fine.  You win.  I’m just worried.”

You are ecstatic and do a little wiggle dance earning you a reluctant laugh from Hobi.  You can’t help sassing, “I appreciate you worrying, but I’m 25.  I’m a whole ass adult.  You know in some countries, I’d already be married with a baby at this age, or be considered an old maid.”

Hobi chokes on his rice and coughs up a lung.  “Geezus, Y/N.  Okay, I get it.  I’ll stop bothering you about work.”

“Sweet!” you celebrate with a cheeky grin.  You just won against Jung Hoseok and you feel invincible.  Today is gonna be a good day.  “You spending the rest of the day with me?”

“Unfortunately, I have a meeting with Pdogg-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, Joonie and the A&R team which will take up most of the afternoon before the magazine shoot.  We won’t be back before midnight, so don’t wait up for us.”

Happy with your win, you nod agreeably, suddenly famished.  The ginseng in the samgyetang is bitter, but the tart dried jujubes cut through it with a subtle sweetness.  You almost don’t hear Hobi when he continues, “Jin-hyung might even be later than midnight, so if you need a cuddle buddy, Tae or Jimin will be your best bet if they don’t both decide to smother you.”

You barely save yourself from sputtering on the broth.  Of course, Hobi knows all about your Jin sleepovers, and after what you heard the other night, he definitely isn’t a fan of your night time activities with Jin, no matter how innocent they are.

 “Sounds good,” you say neutrally.  You can’t tell if this is some sort of underhanded warning to back off or what, but you should have expected there to be more to this breakfast.  You live and learn.  Always keep your guard up around Hobi.  

—

Jungkook is a bottomless pit.  He made eight gimbap rolls that the both of you are eating burrito style and he’s already eaten three of them while you’re still working on your first.  You don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified, so you settle on being content that he’s eating well.  

You’re on a night time picnic complete with picnic blanket, picnic basket, and a curated playlist playing from a portable speaker.  You don’t need to put a show on for Jungkook.  The conversation has been easy from tattoo designs Jungkook wants to get in the near future to new artists you’ve found on SoundCloud that he might enjoy.    

You hear a ding and dig for your phone in your mini-backpack.  It’s the disposable phone you bought earlier in the day.  It’s a different model from your phone but with a similar body and phone case that you hope will fool anyone who doesn't look too closely.  Hobi going through your phone now has you wary of people snooping.  This particular phone only has one number.

Snacks: I’ve got something for you.  I think you’ll wanna see it right away, but I can put it in your desk at work if you prefer. Me: I’m actually out right now by the Namsan Outdoor Botanical Gardens.  Quick handoff? Snacks: I’ll meet you at the public restrooms in an hour. Me: Sounds good.  Thank you so much! Snacks: No need to thank me.  We’re friends.  See you soon!

“Noona?”  

You fumble with your phone and turn your attention back to Jungkook.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, Jungkookie.  I thought it might be an emergency because I don’t usually get texts.”

“Did something happen?” Jungkook asks, worriedly.

“No.  It was nothing.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but easily shrugs it off, throwing himself back to lie starfished.  You follow his example, the both of you stuffed.  The light pollution prevents you from seeing stars, but the moon hangs above you.  It’s the same moon you’ve always known, but you can’t help wondering if it’s new and different.  Has that dark spot always been there?  Is it bigger than you remembered?  You turn to look at Jungkook.  His bucket hat and face mask cover ninety percent of his face, but his eyes in shadow still glow.

“Hey,” you say.  

“Hmm?”

“Are you happy, Jungkookie?”

He doesn’t say anything.  A soft breeze wafts over you both.  The grass ripples in the wind, tickling your ankles.  What a beautiful night.

“I’m happy,” Jungkook finally says to the sky.  “But most of the time, I feel nothing.  I’m happy with the hyungs and with noona.  I love my job.  And I receive so much love.  But yeah.  Most of the time, it’s just nothing.”

You can’t help but ask, “Are you depressed?”

He shakes his head.  “No, I don't think I’m depressed.  I think it’s like…apathy for survival?  I’m pretty sure the hyungs are like that too, especially Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung.  And Jin-hyung sometimes…I think it’s because we have like really high highs, adrenaline rushes from performances and things like that, that the rest of the time it’s like an energy crash and we go through this numb thing dealing with work stress…privacy invasions…and just pressure in general, and it just takes a while for us to find a normal rhythm again.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but mostly you’re proud of Jungkook.  It sounds like he’s put a lot of thought into this.

“Do you feel happy, noona?”  You owe it to Jungkook to be as honest with him as he has been with you, but you’re not sure how you want to answer that with how uncertain everything is.  You must take a while to answer, because Jungkook gently nudges you and says, “Let’s close our eyes.”

So, you close your eyes.  If you concentrate enough, you think you can see electrons track across your eyelids like old television snow inverted in black.  An optical white noise.

It’s weirdly soothing, and you find yourself confessing, “I don’t think I am happy, but I’m trying to be.  I don’t feel..real?  So what if my feelings aren’t real?  It’s just…hard to trust right now.”

“Trust what?” he asks tentatively.

You bite your lip, thinking maybe you’ve already said too much.  “Would you be upset if I said everything?”  

He blows out a rush of air.  “Lemme think for a minute.”

MAX’s ‘Lights Down Low’ is playing in the background.  Conversations and laughter can be heard at some distances with other park goers spaced out on the lawn.  And you swear you can hear the gears grinding in Jungkook’s brain as he reviews film strips in his head.  

“I’m not upset,” he finally says.  “Just sad.”

“Yeah.  I’m sad too.”

“Open your eyes, noona.”  You’re met with Jungkook’s smile.  “At least we’re friends forever, so it’s not all sad.”

You head down to the dance studio to eat lunch, Said the Sky’s ‘Rush Over Me’ playing on your headphones.  You’ve met all the members now and they’ve all reassured you that you wouldn’t be a distraction if you came down for some quiet time every now and then.  Well, it’s not ever quiet when the boys are there, but it’s a nice breather for you because none of them ever force you to drain your social battery by interacting with them.  You usually just sit in a corner with your headphones on and eat lunch while catching up on whatever book you’re reading.  Sungdeuk has even begun dubbing your corner ‘Y/N’s Reading Nook’ and the boys make sure to always leave it clear of clutter even though the dance studio sometimes doubles as a storage closet.  

Today, you’re surprised to see only Jungkook sitting against the mirror.  You wave at him, but he ducks down shyly, completely missing your greeting.  No matter.  You nestle into your corner and unwrap your triangle gimbap.  It always feels rude to be eating in front of the boys, but it’s not like you usually have enough to share.  Since it’s just Jungkook today, you place one of your unopened gimbap next to his foot since he seems distracted on his phone.  You retreat to your corner again,  happily munching your gimbap and open your book.  Your concentration is shot though because this song is a bop: ‘So, rush over me one more time, I will miss you.  Torn apart after tonight.  And we can’t fix it.”

Whoops.  You don’t mean to sing along out loud, but some songs just do that to you.  You glance at Jungkook, hoping he didn’t hear anything, but one look has you dropping your book and ripping your headphones off.  

“Jungkook?  What happened?  Did you hurt yourself?”  Jungkook is crying and you honestly don’t know what to do.  “What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”  

He hides his face in his sweater paws as you crouch near him.  

It’s been a few months, but you’ve slowly been integrated into the lives of seven chaotic men.  Your schedules are all over the place though, so each friendship is at different stages.  You’re already deep in with Tae and Jimin; the both of them are always quick to include you in every plan, bamboozle, and hoodwink.  You have more in common with Yoongi and Hobi’s personality, but don’t need to maintain constant conversation with them.  Namjoon has such a wide range of knowledge that he’s easy to converse with, but you’re not sure how well you actually know him as a person.  Jin has been pretty elusive, not that you’ve put in much effort.  Plus, your first interaction was a little rocky so you’re still wary of him.  As for Jungkook, he gets quiet around you, so you tend to do your best to give him space in case you make him uncomfortable.  That’s why you’re so out of your depth when it comes to a crying Jungkook.

“Jungkook, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.  Should I call Tae?”

“No!”  He grabs your sleeve, halting you from retrieving your phone.

“Do I need to get Sungdeuk-oppa?”

Jungkook wipes his tears and shakes his head.  He mumbles, “I’m not injured.”

“So then, what’s going on?”

“It—It’s stupid.”  You’re at a complete loss.  He refuses to look at you, and you feel compelled to hug him, something you don’t often initiate, but you’re not sure if you’re quite there yet with Jungkook.  

“I’m sure it’s not stupid.  Tell noona what’s wrong.”  You scoot back from where Jungkook is sitting to give him some space, but his grip on your sleeve has you falling on your butt with an oomph.  He drops your hand when he realizes what he’s done.  You want to sigh at this shy cutie, but don’t dare make any sound in fear that he’ll interpret it as condescending or pity or something worse.  “How about this?  I’ll close my eyes so no one can perceive you and you tell noona what’s wrong.  Afterwards, you can decide if you want to pretend this never happened, or you might even decide that this isn’t as bad as you think it is.  Either way, this will be a secret between you and me.  Just…give yourself a minute to think about what you want to say, okay?”

You close your eyes and patiently wait for Jungkook to say something, anything.  Jungkook is the youngest of all the members at 17 years old.  His energy is everywhere.  He can give Tae a run for his money when it comes to hyper mischief.  You do worry about Jungkook though because you’ve noticed that the pendulum can swing far in the opposite direction.  When he’s subdued, he makes himself very small like he’s trying to be invisible.  You understand the occasional desire to be invisible, so that’s how you came up with the idea to close your eyes.  Maybe if no one is looking, he won’t make himself small.  

“Do you like me, noona?”

The question almost makes you open your eyes.  “Of course, I like you, Jungkook.  Do you think that I don’t?”

“Well, I tried to say hi just now, but you ignored me.  You gave me food, and I tried to say thank you, but you ignored me again.  And then you sang and I realized you had headphones on and I got embarrassed, and now I feel stupid.  But sometimes I feel like you don’t like me.”

“I’m so sorry.  I do like you, Jungkookie.  I did try to wave hello to you before, but you didn’t see it.”

“Oh,” Jungkook sniffles.  “But I’m awkward and I don’t know how to talk to you, so I thought that’s probably why you don’t want to be friends with me.  You’re friends with all the hyungs, but not me.”

Your heart hurts that he would think this.  “Jungkook, can I open my eyes?”

You hear a muffled noise and take it for consent.  Jungkook is hugging his legs and hiding his face behind his knees, his big, wet eyes watching you cautiously.  

“Jungkook.  Did Tae tell you how we became friends?”

“Um, he said he kidnapped you from the hospital nursery and raised you like a pet monster under his bed, but that didn’t make any sense cuz’ you’re older than him.”

You sputter suddenly blinded by outrage.  “Oh my god, that’s what Tae said?!  What a no good rat monkey!  I’m gonna pummel that punk next time I see him!  What the hell!  And that’s the only reason why it doesn’t make sense to you?!  Really, Jungkookie?  You really think Tae could kidnap and hide a baby from eomma and appa Kim and they wouldn't know something is afoot?  Plus, do you really trust that lunatic to raise a baby by himself?  I really would be a monster.  Maknae, are you telling me I’m a monster?  Why are you giggling?  You think this is funny?  I’ll show you what’s funny!”

You attack Jungkook with tickles even though he’s already giggling, but now he gasps for air trying to pry you off him.  

“This is what you get for thinking any of that was true, you brat.  You’re lucky you’re so cute, otherwise I’d headlock you and give you a knuckle sandwich.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, noona!  I’m sorry!” he giggles.  

“I’ll stop if you bow and give me an apology.”

“Okay!  I promise I will!”  Laughing, you release him.  He promptly smacks to the floor in a dramatic floor bow.  “I’m sorry, noona.  Please don’t become the monster under my bed.”

“Why you little–” You attack him again, even though you get a kick to the shin and an elbow to the gut.  You’d much rather get injured for his giggles than be whole with his sadness and doubt.

You both end up starfished on the floor breathing hard and grinning at each other.  You lace your fingers in his.  You have no doubt it’s okay because it feels like you’ve you’re finally there with Jungkook.  “Thank you for trusting me with your feelings, Jungkook.  Can I tell you some of my feelings?”

You sit up and pull him to sit up too.  His head tilts curiously.  You don’t let go of his hand though.  You squeeze it, apprehensive about laying yourself bare.

“I don’t have any family.  I don’t have an eomma or appa or dongsaengs.  I’m–”  The word sticks to your teeth like taffy.  “I’m an orphan.”

Jungkook’s eyes grow even bigger, which you didn’t think was possible.  He squeezes your hand.

“So, Tae is kinda right I guess.  He’s my best friend.  My only family.  And I’m not a monster under the bed, but sometimes I think I’m like an alien that he’s had to teach how to be human.  I’m still getting used to hugs and cuddles, and sometimes I freeze up until I remember what I’m supposed to do and remember that hugs are okay.  So, maybe sometimes you’re awkward, but I’m more awkward than you.  Just like with hugs, sometimes I don’t know how to talk to people or what I’m supposed to do around people, so I just sort of keep to myself because I’m afraid of making people uncomfortable, especially around people I don’t know very well yet, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.  I haven’t been avoiding you.  I’m trying to wait until you’re comfortable with me in your space.  And if you need time to get comfortable around people, it’s not your fault either.  I think of you as a new friend, but it’s not a competition.  We don’t need to rush anything.  We can become friends however we want.”

Jungkook is looking straight at you now a little more confidently.  “Thank you for trusting me with your feelings, noona,” he says, testing the words on his tongue.  

That’s another thing you’ve noticed, how he mimics and tries on his hyungs’ personalities, mixing, matching, and choosing the styles he wants to dress his personality in.  You feel honored that he’s trying a bit of yours.  

You’re still surprised when he asks,“Can I hug you?”

“Anytime you want,” you say sincerely.  You pull him into a hug and he nestles like a bug in your arms.  “Friends?”

“Friends.”  

You sit back and beam.  “So, now that we’re friends, do you wanna hear about the time Tae got his feet stuck in some high heels and had to walk to my convenience store so I could cut him out of them?”

“If you tell me that story, I’ll tell you about the time the water stopped in the middle of Tae’s shower and he rinsed his head in the toilet because we were running late,” he offers, eagerly.  

“Deal.  Also, I’ve been getting weird anonymous emails at work and I think it’s Tae pranking me.”

“We could prank him back.  I know how to embed video links into pdfs.”  Jungkook’s innocent face suddenly lights with an evil that only the youngest can exude and you absolutely love it and him.  

“I think we’ll be friends forever, Jungkookie.”  

“Yeah,” you laugh.  “At least we’re friends forever.”

Jungkook looks back at the sky and starts singing along to whatever’s playing on his speaker.  You still see that shy seventeen year old sometimes, but Jungkook has grown so much in the past four years.  He’s less apologetic and more present in the moment, bold and spirited.  You wish you could have been there for the metamorphosis.

Your phone lights up in your periphery and it’s like you’ve been splashed with cold water.

“Jungkookie, I’m gonna run to the restroom,” you say, scrambling up.

Jungkook makes to get up, his face one of worry and confusion.  “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no.  I’ll be quick.  Be right back.”  You make a dash for it before Jungkook can say anything.  

It’s a bit of a trek to the public restrooms.  You and Jungkook had ventured deep into the park to find a flat patch of grass that didn’t have a ton of traffic to avoid Jungkook being recognized.  He had only brought three plainclothes guards instead of his usual team of six because he wasn’t going to be in the actual public and the park is relatively empty at this time of night.  You actually forgot about his guards until just this moment and you hope you’ve given yourself enough of a head start if one of them decides to follow you.  You think you’re in the clear though since Jungkook should be their priority.  

The restroom area is well lit, but you’re still startled when someone grabs you and pulls you behind the small building.  You find yourself in a little pocket blocked by trees and bushes with Jihoon.  He’s dressed casually in a blue hoodie and white washed jeans.  His hair is actually styled in artful messy waves that compliment his monolid eyes.  You catch yourself staring a bit, finding it strange to see him in anything but his uniform.  

“Holy shit, Jihoon.  You scared me,” you say, trying to calm your heart for more than one reason. 

Jihoon smiles sheepishly.  “Sorry.  I didn’t know if you were with one of the members.”

“It’s okay.  I’m with Jungkookie, so we have to make this quick.  What’d you find?”

He hands you a USB drive.  You try not to think about how soft his palm is against your fingertips when you take the drive from his hand.  “This is what I could find on Kim Chohee so far.  There should be a lot on there.”

The USB drive should feel heavier than it does in your hand with all its secrets.  Instead, it feels fragile like it could shatter into a million pieces should you drop it.  You immediately stow it in your pocket.  Jihoon’s mouth quirks in amusement.  

“How’d you get the drive?” you ask in awe.  You only recruited Jihoon yesterday and he’s already gotten farther than you have in two weeks.  

“Do you really wanna know?  Plausible deniability and all?” he teases.

“You’re risking a lot for me.  I should definitely take the burden if you get caught,” you say matter of factly.  

“Well, we’ll see what’s actually readable on there.  Some of the info might be corrupted.  I took that info off one of the security desks and I was paranoid and in a rush, so I had to yank it out when it was only about eighty percent downloaded.  Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.  This is more than I could have hoped for.  I’m honestly stunned.”

The both of you are encased in shadow, but the pathlights filtering through the tree branches almost look like stars in their own right, speckling Jihoon so he almost glitters.  You’re so overwhelmed by what could be your salvation at your fingertips.  You practically throw yourself at Jihoon, hugging him tight.  He gives a startled sort of yelp that you choose to ignore for his dignity, but after a second’s hesitation, he hugs you back.  He’s so tall and his hug is all encompassing, making you feel small and protected.  You know you’re probably crossing some lines with this budding friendship, but he’s done no small thing for you and you don’t know how else to truly express your gratitude.

“You’re amazing,” you say.

He laughs softly.  “You’re…something else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should—”

“Noona?”  

You whip around to see Jungkook peering through the thick foliage, heart in your throat.  Shit shit shit.  Oh my god.  Panicked, you glance at Jihoon, his face set neutral as he sets a comforting hand on your shoulder.  Jungkook pushes pass the branches and bushes and looks from you to Jihoon.  There’s an excruciating ten seconds where no one says anything.  Shit, how do you explain this???

Jungkook then transforms in front of your eyes.  It’s so subtle, you could miss the minute changes if you’re not paying attention.  He stands taller, his posture anchored forward in his center of gravity.  His shocked doe eyes narrow into something hard and assessing, completely focused on Jihoon.  It reminds you of when he gets serious during solo dance practices, but this is something else because his whole aura becomes unforgiving.  He reaches a hand for you.  “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah.  Um, let’s just go.”  You look back at Jihoon and hope your face conveys enough apology, but you honestly can’t stand here a second longer with both of them staring at each other.  As soon as you grab Jungkook’s hand, he leads you through the foliage.  

When you clear the green, the guards are standing six feet away.  One of them is holding the picnic basket.  You avoid looking at them and trudge towards where your vehicle is parked.  Jungkook catches up to you and you can feel his gaze on you for a time.

“Formation Four,” he calls out authoritatively.

You hear a flurry of movement.  The guards have dropped back ten feet.  Confused, you regard Jungkook.  He’s looking at his feet as he walks, his fingers twirling his rings.  He seems anxious and you’re not sure what’s gonna happen now.  Is Jungkook gonna tell the members?  Are you going to lose your only outside friend, Jihoon?  

Worst yet, you feel this ugly ball of guilt.  This night was supposed to be all about Jungkook and you tainted it by sneaking off on him.  You fucked up because the person who deserves all this trouble the least is darling dongsaeng, Jungkook.  But you almost don’t recognize this Jungkook walking next to you.  He’s a mix of your darling dongsaeng and the man who stared down Jihoon and you’re not sure how to handle this Jungkook.

Of course, he completely derails the apology on the tip of your tongue.  He finally looks at you and the transformation is undone to become the boy that you know with pleading doe eyes.  “I swear I wasn’t trying to spy on you.  I was just worried because it’s nighttime and you shouldn’t be out on your own with that sas—you just shouldn’t be out on your own.  I’m sorry.  I swear, noona, I promise.  I wasn’t trying to spy on you.”

You’re thrown.  What is happening right now?  “Why are you apologizing?  I should be apologizing to you for being distracted.  This wasn’t fair to you.  Tonight was supposed to be about you and me and I fucked it all up.”

Jungkook’s smile is sad and you honestly want to jump off a bridge for making him feel this way.  He huffs a tired laugh.  “There are a lot of secrets with the hyungs.  And I hate it, but I’m part of that too.  That’s why it’s hard for you to trust, right?”

You nod, at a loss for words with Jungkook addressing this so directly.  

“Well, this is a secret I can keep for you.  The guards didn’t see anything and I’ll talk to them before they leave.”

“Jungkook, I can’t ask you to lie for me.”

“I’m not gonna lie.  When they ask me how dinner went, I’ll talk about dinner.  The end.”

“It still doesn’t feel right to have you keep this secret for me.”

Jungkook purses his lips.  “You heard us fighting the other night, right?  That’s why you didn’t come to the sleepover?”

There’s no point in hiding it at this point.  Everything’s gone to shit anyway.  “Yeah.  I heard some of it.”

“Well, Tae-hyung is right.  You need more than just us.”  Jungkook stops walking and pulls you in for a hug.  This hug hurts though.  It hurts because it’s not just you he’s holding tightly.  It’s your whole self, jagged edges and all, both of you bleeding. 

He pulls back and his normally open book face is unreadable.  

“I’ll keep this secret for you, but I need you to listen to me and trust me just this once, okay?  Can you do that?”

“Yeah, Kookie.  Tell me.  What is it?”

A million things flit across his eyes that you aren’t able to catch before his face sets in grim determination.  “Do you love me?”

It’s no lie when you say, “Yes.”

“And you know that I’m a combination of all the hyungs?”

“You’re still your own person, Kookie.”

“Yes, Yoongi-hyung, I know I’m my own person, but I’m talking to Y/N-noona, right now.  You know I’m a combination of all the hyungs?”

“Yes.”

“And a combination of you.”  His lips turn up and you smile.

“Yes.”

“If you love me knowing that I’m a combination of all the hyungs, then you love them too, or at least parts of them.”

You purse your lips because, well, you can’t deny that.  Just this morning you found your affection for Hobi had stayed constant.  Last night, you couldn’t sever the string connecting you to Jin.  And today, you see that Jungkook is now all grown up before your eyes with an iron grip on your heart that you doubt he’ll ever let go.

“Trust me just this once, noona.  Don’t give up on your family.”

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Ossu Seiromushi, Jin’s brother’s restaurant.  You peek over the menu at Tae who is staring back at you unabashedly.  You don’t know what he’s planning, but you can’t do anything but go along with it, completely at his mercy.  After your order is put in and your juices placed in front of you, the silence stretches, but it’s different than what you’re used to–the comfortable silences, the anxious silences and the silences that are too loud.  This silence feels buzzy and slinky, like an animal crouched, waiting to pounce.  The Tae sitting in front of you is the same Tae, but he seems different from the persona he normally projects like he has decided to set aside his hahoetal mask for a short time.

“Hello,” you murmur.

“Hi.”  He seems to take the measure of you, stripping you of your own mask that you hadn't realized you had on. Though it's not like he's ripping off this protection you made for yourself, but more like he's letting you breathe unhindered for a while. 

You clear your throat. “How are you?”

He settles into the cushions to consider, leaning back on his arms in a calculated way to seem casual.  You know he's trying to allay your anxiety, but you're actually okay.  Everyone says he's your first friend, one of the ones closest to you, if friendships were to have levels, and even with this given fact, you've never felt deceit from Tae. All of his emotions and reactions have been genuinely and sincerely broadcasted to you.  You trust Tae.   

“Today, I’m content.  It’s a rollercoaster otherwise,” he shrugs.

“Why is that?”

His smile turns half-hearted.  “Our Map of the Soul Tour got canceled.  That sucks.  And you'd think we would have more time to take breaks and see family, but our schedule is still going at the same pace we usually do, if not more, to make it up to Army.”

The pandemic has been difficult for many people.  Even you know that the reason you rarely venture outside their condo isn't entirely to isolate and guard you, but because the world is on edge with these social distancing regulations.  But social distancing for a performance group like BTS, whose relationship with fans is more intimate than most fandoms, must be agony.  “I’m sorry.  I know you were all really looking forward to the tour.”

“Yeah, concerts are the endgame prize for all our hard work and it got snatched away.  We can’t even blame anyone.  So I guess our schedule is a double edged sword to protect and distract us from depression.  Idle idols are not a good thing.  On the other hand, the Tour being canceled wasn’t all that bad either.”

“Because…”

“Because it means we can stay home and spend more time with you.”

“What?”  That was an unexpected turn.  The boys love performing.  It’s the only time they can see the people they’ve inspired to move to the beat, to live life to the fullest, and to dream quietly or loudly.  And Army is like a mirror in that way, inspiring the boys to make the beats, to breathe life in verse, and to accomplish their dreams.  You suddenly feel like an obstacle and it doesn’t sit right with you.  

Tae chews on his lip for a few seconds, assessing your stricken expression, your face an open book.  "Can you handle some heavy conversation? Or do you wanna put a pin in it and we can come back to it when you have the emotional energy for it?"

You want to blurt out that you can handle it, but you respect him for considering your well-being, so you instead take a moment to actually gauge yourself.  Your mind is calm, your emotions are stable, and you feel safe here with Tae.  Confidently, you say, "I can handle it."

His expression is grave, but there's some pride there too, like he's proud you weren't carelessly eager.

He wets his lips, his next words deliberate and conscientious.  “Your attack happened near the beginning of 2018.  We were already burnt out.  We hadn’t seen our families properly in over a year, and then you got hurt.  It felt wrong to leave for the Love Yourself Tour while you were still in the hospital, confused and disoriented.  And the hits just kept coming.  Jungkook’s foot injury.  Jimin’s issues with his muscles and overworked voice.  We became submerged in a blue and grey fog, but that wasn't fair to Army, so we used Army as our focal point.  The guiding constellation until we could be home again.

"But I still felt out of focus, like double vision.  I was giving it my all, but my angel's voice would be drowned out in cresting and ebbing waves of this other voice whispering things like 'Y/N doesn't know who you are.  She doesn't recognize anyone and you abandoned her.  She doesn't have anyone else and she's scared and sad and panicked.  And you left her.  You left her line of sight.'

"And I worried.  Worried that the people we left behind to care for you wouldn't know how best to quiet your brain, how best to cheer you up, how best to distract you.  And as all these worries piled up, I realized I needed you to quiet my brain, cheer me up, and distract me, but you couldn't.  I couldn't call you for encouragement or comfort.  Like a snake biting its own tail I just went round and round in the guilt and depression.  And it wasn't just me.  Jin-hyung, Hobi-hyung–we wanted to leave.  Not just the Tour but everything."

Tae was right to ask if you could handle this.  It's a lot to take in.  You're trying your best to listen, to process, because this moment is for Tae.  He's been holding all of this in and steadily marching on for you.  So you anchor yourself, determined to hold his ship steady.  

You prompt him, "But you didn't leave."

He plays around with the condensation on his water glass.  "No. We didn't leave.  Yoongi-hyung convinced us to stay."

“How did he do that?”

“Eh.  He said that we had more power now to advocate for ourselves in contract negotiations and more means to delegate.  But the ultimate selling point was when he said you would kill us if we left," he chuckles here, melancholy lacing the velvet of it.  "He said you wouldn’t want us to break up.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, Yoongi-hyung tattled on us to you during one of your 'lucid' moments and you really laid into us.”

“Good.”  

Tae rolls his eyes at your satisfaction, but he shares your grin.  He leans in almost conspiratorially.

“You know, you’re the reason why I’m even in BTS.”

“Bullshit.  You’re in BTS because of you.”

He laughs, shaking his head.  “No, seriously.  I’m here because Park Haneul asked you to go with him to an audition, but you couldn’t ask off work.  So, you forced me to go with him instead.  It’s funny cuz’ you were oblivious that he was trying to ask you out and then I passed the audition.  Actually, now that I think about it, that super sucked for him.”

You giggle, “Oh, shit, that’s horrible.  Is it too late to send him an apology gift basket?”

“Eh, I don’t know if that would help or just rub him the wrong way.”

“You’re probably right," you concede.  "Still, even if I got you to the audition, you did all the hard work.”

“Oh, Y/N.  What people don’t tell you in this business is that you can work as hard as you want, but it all ultimately comes down to luck.  I was lucky.  We were lucky.  Now we’re racing towards a ceiling and we can’t predict when it’ll all come crashing down.”

The humor subsides, Tae looking the youngest you've ever seen him, troubled and vulnerable.  You’d do anything to erase that expression forever, but you don’t think you have the power to.  You want to try though.  

“Tae.  It might hurt when you reach the end, but you’ve got parachutes.  You’ve got people like me who are more than ready to catch you.  You say it's all luck, but we are lucky to have you.  Trust that we've got you.  And, it’s all ultimately out of your control, so let’s just enjoy the ride.”

“Advice you could take too, you know.”

You flinch, his words stinging a bit.  “You’re right,” you admit.  “That was a bit careless.  I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings.  I just meant that I’m here for you, no matter what state I’m in.  And I know you’re here for me too, that all of you are.  I’ve never once felt neglected or abandoned.   If anything, I would understand if you guys put me up in some hospital and went on with your lives.  Seriously, you’ve gone above and beyond what any normal person would do for a friend.”

“Family, Y/N.  You’re family.”

“Yes.  Above and beyond what any normal person would do for family, then.”

“Well, you should know by now we aren’t normal.   I adopted you when I was just a scrawny kid with ears too big for my head and you were just a bookworm who stubbornly refused to get glasses.”

“I don’t know why you’re so dead set against glasses.  But fine.  Let’s ask seonsaeng-nim to move you to a desk in the front,” Tae suggests.  He’s sitting on your desk before class starts, drawing abstract cartoons on the desktop.  There’s a little alien character saying ‘Fighting!  You can do it!’  You’re gonna have to erase it before the test, but it’s still nice to have this reminder and encouragement beforehand.  In turn, he’s making you draw cartoons on his shoes with markers.  You decided to go with a plant theme and he giggles when you add sunglasses to a cactus.

“If I move, we wouldn’t be sitting next to each other, Tae. ”

“Aww, you love me," he coos at you.

You huff.  “We have a symbiotic relationship at best.”

“So you’re saying I’m a clownfish and you’re my sea anemone.”

“Yeah, Tae, you’re a clown.”

“So zappy.  Nice.”  You stick your tongue out at him and he sticks his tongue out at you, crossing his eyes.  It inspires you to draw googily eyes on a sunflower, earning you an approving pat on the head that you bat away.  “Well, just cuz we don’t sit next to each other doesn’t mean we won’t see each other.  We can make it fun!  Passing notes is not a challenge when you’re literally sitting right next to me.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want to sit next to me.”  You mean to say it as a joke, but a tinge of hurt manages to bleed through.  He’s been pushing this idea for the past couple of days, ever since you mentioned your nearsightedness.  Now, you wish you hadn't.  

You know he means well, but it’s hard for you to make friends.  Well, it’s not like you don’t have other friends.  You could end up sitting next to Hanuel or Bora and it’d be fine.  But they’re not Tae.  And you’re the only one who can help him concentrate during lessons.  As you’re thinking that though, you fight off the knowledge that, ultimately, Tae would be fine without you.  Yes, Tae is your person, but Tae is so friendly and charismatic, he doesn’t need to stick with you.  

Tae gets up with no warning, making you accidentally draw a red line through a sunflower, as well as getting a bit of ink on his khakis.  Whoops.  He doesn’t care though, draping himself over you and almost strangling you in the process.  

Some classmates think that you’re together when it couldn’t be farther from the truth.  Many of them are beginning to be interested in things like kissing and sex, so they find your physical closeness suspect, but Tae has confided in you that while he doesn’t think he’d mind kissing, the idea of sex makes him nauseous, makes something wriggle and itch under his skin, so he isn’t interested, nope, no way.  You, on the other hand, aren’t interested in kissing and sex because you’re barely comfortable with hugs.

You remember the first time Tae hugged you.  This boy plopped himself next to you during lunch and proclaimed he was adopting you.  You were particularly sensitive that day being in a new school alone, afraid people would notice that your secondhand uniform (or rather fourthhand) was frayed.  That people would notice no one had dropped you off or would pick you up.  Afraid they’d know you’re an orphan, something abandoned and not worthy of nice things like friendship.  

Orphanages are survival of the fittest.  You only get adopted if you are young and pretty or cute or handsome or charming.  You know you aren't ugly.  Objectively, you think you look generic.  Cookie cutter.  Not only that, you know you aren't charming.  And while your facility tries to be fair and equal, there isn’t always enough to go around, so you often are skipped over for things like new clothes, toys, and treats and get smaller portions of meals, the caretakers citing your apparent 'independence' and 'maturity.'  

But your independence is not voluntary.  It's loneliness.  You are not mature.  You are resigned.  And here was a boy who had already guessed all this, smelled it on you, and was making fun of you for it.  The little hope you had for something different, for something completely your own, died.

You burst into tears and the boy panicked, stumbling over an apology and eyes wildly searching for help before he dove at you, squeezing.  You immediately froze, unused to skinship, arms awkwardly hanging by your sides unsure what to do with them or where you should place your hands.  No one had ever hugged you or held your hand.  None of the caretakers ever tucked you in bed or comforted you after nightmares.  

Like a plant, you wanted to soak it all up like water.  Like sunlight.  You didn’t know how you could prolong it, how to keep this or even if you were allowed to.  So, you froze because maybe if you didn’t move, if you held your breath, this boy wouldn't let go.  

He did eventually let go, but he stayed.  He didn’t ask you questions, but he patiently waited for you to reveal parts of yourself until days, weeks, months went by and you realized he could see all of you.  The world didn’t end and he continued to stay.  He saw your insecurities and he built your confidence with attentive prodding and careful wheedling, drawing you into seemingly innocent arguments and discussions that emphasized the double standards you set for yourself.  He saw how anxious you are and he listened to music with you, introducing you to jazz, trap,  emo-rock and a healthy coping mechanism. He saw how touch starved you are and he hugged, cuddled and held your hand, wearing down your awkward hesitancy with exposure therapy.  Now you grab his forearm and squeeze.  He returns your squeeze bodily, the weight of him grounding you.  

“I’ll always be next to you,” Tae says.  “You can’t get rid of me.  You’re my sea anemone, remember?  I just won’t be in your direct line of sight is all.”

“Well, I’d still rather see you than the board.”

“Aww, you do love me.”  You duck your head, but can’t fight the smile.  His declarations of love are apparently also part of his exposure therapy.  No one has ever said they love you, except Tae.  You only ever read about it in books, books with passionate romance, covenants of friendship, and embers in the hearth of home.  And you think you feel love for Tae too because his love feels like home.  

Tae laughs and ruffles your hair.  You huff in feigned annoyance, shrugging him off and smoothing out your hair.  He moves back to his desk, reaching to ruffle your hair again and you bat his hand away.  “Okay, so if you don’t want to move to the front then you could, I don’t know, get glasses?  You know, those things people wear so they can see?  Come on.  You can get the round ones like Harry Potter!  It’ll be magical!”

“Tae, for the last time, glasses are expensive and–they won’t turn me into a wizard,” you say breathlessly.  Your eyes refocus on the present moment and the first thing you see is Tae stunned, eyes wide.

You remember him as he was in your youth and you now see this beautiful man.  He really has grown into his ears.  The freckles on his nose, cheek and lip are more prominent now from so many days in the sun.  His eyes, though, still hold the same child-like wonder you’ve always admired.  His face lights with that boxy smile, the one that holds so much joy his face can barely contain it.

“Aww, you love me,” he teases.  His expression and tone is playful, but there’s a sincerity, a gravity, a note of bittersweet, a whisper of a question at the end.  His words don’t encompass like a blanket or taste like strawberries.  They don’t weigh you like an anchor or light you up like a firework.  The words flow through you like a river, the surface running free, vibrant and frolicking, but with depths that cut paths in unexpected ways.  A path that connects you to him.  So you have no hesitation, no doubt when you say, “I do.  I love you, Tae.”

He beams and you can’t help grinning back.  You stick your tongue out at him for old time’s sake, but instead of returning the sentiment, his smile softens.  “You know, that’s all we’ve ever needed.  I’m in your corner and you’re in my corner.  As long as we have this, then nothing else matters."

“You’re right," you nod.  "I just–I just want to remember more.  It’s like I have all these pieces to a puzzle, but I’ve lost the box, and every time I remember, I finally get a glimpse at the picture of what I’m supposed to make.  Our experiences and memories make us who we are, Tae.  I wanna complete my puzzle so I can start living my life, you know?”

“But you are living your life.  No one’s puzzle is complete anyways.  It’s constantly changing.  We’re different from when we were twelve and we’re different than we were yesterday.  So even with all that’s going on, you are allowed to be different and to change.  We can make new memories.  Have new experiences.”

“Still.  Those memories are precious.  I don’t wanna throw away the box completely.”

“Then I’ll remember for you.  You can take or borrow any piece you want.”

“What if I stray too far from the original design until I’m too different for you to handle?”

His eyes issue a challenge.  “I can handle it.”

You believe that.  You do.  It’s just–

“Plus,” Tae continues.  He cocks his head at you.  “No matter how many times you’ve reset, you’re still the same at your core, even if you can’t see it.  You’re resilient and kind.  Anxious in yourself, but fierce for others.  And you still baby me.  

"You know, I’m the oldest hyung in my family.  I always take care of my brother and sister and all of my cousins.  I’m expected to be the rock of my family, and in a way, I guess I succeeded.  I worked hard to be where I am so my siblings can do whatever they want.  But you were the first person to let me be me without any expectations.  You let me be silly and strange.  You follow my whims and encourage my weird.

“And if you hadn’t, I don’t know if I could have made it with the hyungs.  I’m a hyung to Jungkookie, but without you, I wouldn’t know how to be a dongsaeng to the hyungs.  To be soft so they can be hard.  To let go of control so they can be in control.  You gave me time to figure it out.  So you can be you without any expectations.  You’ve always taken the reins so I can daydream.  This is your daydream now and I can take the reins.”

You’re deeply touched, and you get it.  Just as you see the twelve year old him still buried in the man he is today, in the way he smiles, the dare in his eyes, he’s still just your Tae.  But you lightly scoff.  “Thank you for taking care of me, but you don’t fool me, Tae.  You still act like an oppa, like a hyung.  You take care of everyone in your wily ways.  You really are our dramatic alien, but I also know that you turn it on, on purpose, for BTS to give them energy.  I know you turn it on, on purpose, at home so everyone can turn off and get comfortable.  I know you turn it on, on purpose, to bring out the oppas’ instincts.  I know you turn it on, on purpose, so Namjoon-oppa, Jimin, and Jungkookie can be silly dongsaengs with you.  You are my silly dongsaeng, but you are also my oppa, Tae.”

“Just let me take the reins, noona.”

You watch the switch happen.  This conversation has been much too serious for far too long and, being called out for his ways, Tae retreats now, putting his hahoetal mask back on with that grin, his eyes twinkling in the way they do, impish and goofy, but wiser than anyone suspects.  The perfect disguise for the enigma that is Kim Taehyung.    And just because you know it’ll please him, you tell him, “You’re an enigma, Kim Taehyung.”

He pumps his fists in victory.  “Yes!  That’s all I’ve ever wanted!  Wait!  Does that mean I’ve peaked?!  I’m too young to peak!”

You’re so fond of this man as he rambles on a mile a minute.  The boy who adopted an anxious girl and a girl who was chosen by a fearless boy.  A Tom Sawyer who wanted you to be his Huckleberry Finn.  You know you fall short, but he’s always had enough Tom and Huck in himself that he never cares that you don’t.  That’s why you will always play along wholeheartedly.

You scoff.  “Oh, please.  I have no doubt you’ll always find a way to top yourself.”

“Ooh, kinky.  That’s what they call self-cest, right?”

“Oh, my god, Tae, are you reading fanfics?!”

“If Army didn’t want me to read their dream journals, they shouldn’t post it online.”

“But you’re asexual.”

“There are some asexual fanfics.”

“Then how do you know about self-cest?”

“Trial and error.  Lots of error.  Sometimes I can’t help myself, okay?”

You both laugh because if that isn’t Tae’s motto, you don’t know what is.  

The rest of dinner goes much like that, tangents you can’t fathom how you found yourself on, but filled with humor nonetheless.  By the end, you feel more settled than you’ve ever felt.  Maybe Tae’s right.  Maybe you can let him take the reins and just be the person you are right now.  Figure it out as you go along.

The both of you are waiting for the bill and you’re trying your best to reenact Jieun getting caught by Bang PD-nim doing an impression of him rapping, Tae giggling manically, when a man you don’t recognize enters.  

“Jung-hyung!” Tae shouts.  He tackles the man as you smooth your hair down, hoping this guy didn’t catch the last bit of your reenactment of Bang PD-nim flailing because when he sat down in Jieun’s chair, it was too tall, so he pulled the lever to lower it and it shot down too fast.

The man pulls back from the hug and says, “I saw ‘Vante’ on the reservation list and had to come say hi.  You know that pseudonym doesn’t fool anyone, right?”

“Yeah, I should have used Y/N’s name cuz’ she’s not as famous at all,” Tae says, pointing his thumb at you.

You sigh, but don’t take any offense to his teasing because you’re honestly grateful you’re not famous.  You don’t know what you would have done if your privacy was invaded on top of all your other issues.  You politely bow to the man and his lips quirk in amusement.  “Y/N,” he says, startling you.  “It’s been a while.  I hope the dongsaengs have been behaving themselves.”

“You hope for too much,” you say with a straightface, earning you chuckle.  Apparently, you have some sort of relationship with this man?  You try to silently communicate your need for assistance to Tae, but he’s paying you no mind, too busy climbing the man like a tree.  You don’t have to worry though because he receives your telepathy.

“Noona, Seokjung-hyung is Jin-hyung’s hyung.”

Realization dawns, Seokjung remembering that you might not remember him and you remembering that you’re at Jin’s brother’s restaurant, so this really shouldn’t surprise you.  

“Aish!” Seokjung exclaims.  “I’m so sorry, I forgot. I’m your Jungie-oppa.  I give Jin shit.  You give Jin shit.  We’re the give Jin shit team.”

You like the sound of that.  You can see a slight resemblance now, except he’s taller and has broader features than Jin.  His easy going nature immediately sets you at ease.  The charm must be genetic.

“All you need to remember is that I’m your favorite oppa,” he says with a very Jin-like wink.

“It’s just me here,” Tae says.  “If you want to sow the seeds of chaos, you need to wait till the rest of the hyungs are here.  Where is Jin-hyung by the way?”

“He’s at the park down the street with Areum and Byeol.  Areum is my wife,” Seokjung explains to you.  

“Areum and Byeol are here?!  You’re saying I can hang out with all three of my favorite girls?!” Tae exclaims.  He shimmies off Seokjung, nearly kneeing Seokjung in the groin.  

“What about Jieun-unnie?” you ask as Tae crouches in front of you.

“Jieun-noona is a menace.  A menace, I tell you!  Hyungie, pay for our dinner!”

“I already did.”  Seokjung rolls his eyes with no heat.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously.  Tae remains in his crouched position and you have no idea what’s going on.  

“Get on my back!  You’re too slow!” “I am not and I will not!”

“Get on my back, noona, or I’ll bridal carry you instead!”

At the very real threat, you grumble as you clamber onto his back.  He’s out the door before you can adjust yourself, but you manage to call out, “It was nice to see you, Jungie-oppa!  We ate well!  Thank you!”

“It was nice to see you too!  Kiss Byeol for me!” he calls back to you.

Tae marches you hurriedly down the alley towards where you assume the park is.  It’s funny watching all the plainclothes bodyguards trying to catch up with Tae’s antics.    

“Who’s Byeol?”  You sputter around wisps of Tae’s hair in your nose.

“Only the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world!”

“Wow, thanks.  That was some helpful information, Tae.”

“Anytime!”

The park comes into view, pathways lit, faerie lights in some trees, and a dark lake reflecting the moon.  You don’t know how Tae could possibly know where Jin is in this expanse, but he marches assuredly on.  It isn’t long before Jin comes into view.  There’s a small deck with a few benches.  He’s standing by the railing pointing at something on the lake and you hear a child-like squeal.  The sound seems to spur Tae on because he’s excitedly jogging with you struggling to find a comfortable position.  

“Tae, lemme off!”

“We’re almost there, you potato sack!”

“I am not a potato sack!  You forced me up here!”

“Cuz’ you’re slow!”

“I am not slow!  I am efficient with my energy!”

“Whatever you say, sloth lady!”

“I am not a sloth lady!”

“Okay, sloth man!”

“Tae!”

Your argument alerts Jin who turns around with wide eyes.  The deck is a bit in shadow, jutting out from the path and its lights, but you think you see him panic as you both approach.  

“Taehyung, what are you doing here?” Jin asks incredulously.  

“I’m here to see my niece!  Seokjung-hyung and Areum-noona have deprived me of her for too long!  Hand her over!”  Tae drops you unceremoniously and you stumble to catch your balance.  When you find your equilibrium again, Tae is blowing raspberries into the belly of the most adorable giggly little girl you have ever seen.  She can’t be more than two years old with pudgy cheeks and flailing miniature limbs.  She has Seokjung’s eyebrows and nose, and her dark hair is short, curling at the end.  This is not doing good things to your uterus, oh my god, she’s so cute!  “Byeol, look who’s here!”

Tae points you out and Byeol babbles happily, reaching out to you with chubby hands.  Who are you to deny this little one?  Byeol settles comfortably in your arms with no fuss, her little body tucked against all your curves.  She grabs your corsage, crushing some of the flowers and looks up at you with big beautiful brown eyes and long soft lashes.

“Aren’t the flowers pretty?  But not as pretty as you Byeol,” you coo conversationally.  You pretend to nip her cheek and she squeals in delight and you wish you could make wind chimes out of it.  You are literally melting, goo, a puddle.  Byeol’s nose is so cute, you don’t even try to resist eskimo kissing her, her face scrunching up toothily.   

“Noona, watch this!  Byeol!  Who’s the best?  You’re the best!  Kaepjjang!”

Byeol fists a hand and then gives a thumbs up.  She’s pleased when you all break into laughter.  Even Jin who has been quiet all this time laughs and you want to make a windchime out of that too.  It’s squeaky and hiccupy, and it is such an odd sound to come out of a handsome man, endearing in its contrast.  

“Aigoo, I can’t believe she remembers what samchon Yoongi taught her.  Our Byeol is so smart," Jin says.

“Yoongi-hyung is gonna be so jealous we got to see her,” Tae states gleefully.

Byeol reaches out to Jin and emits an excited squeal as Jin immediately scoops her up making airplane sounds.  You pout feeling bereft of her warm, sturdy, compact body.  

As Tae points out a bird to the little one, you glance around, realizing you’re missing someone.  “Where’s Byeol’s eomma?  Jungie-oppa said she’d be here.”

“She’s here,” Tae answers instead of Jin.

Jin huffs a sigh.  “Areum-noona is just a little ways down the path.  The stroller decided it was the best time to malfunction during a night stroll.”

Tae begins playing peekaboo with Byeol, so you move in closer to Jin to catch her radiant expression.  

“So you met, Seokjung-hyung, huh?  And now you’re here to see Areum-noona and Byeol.  How fortuitous.”  Jin’s tone is weird.  When you glance at him, he’s giving a pointed look at Tae who easily ignores him.

You suddenly feel bad, even if this wasn’t your idea.  Jin hadn’t invited you to meet his family and you blindsided him.  “Sorry for intruding on your family time.”

Jin instantly turns to you, expression horrified.  “No, Y/N.  Don’t apologize.  Tae is just annoying.  I just–you could never intrude.”

“Smooth,” Tae says like a brat.  Jin responds with a jab Tae isn’t quick enough to dodge.  “Ow!  Help!  Byeol, I’m dying!”  

Tae dramatically flops to the ground to the chorus of  Byeol's giggles.

“Now look who’s slow, sloth man," you say as the three of you tower over him.

“I’m not a sloth man.”

“Okay, sloth lady.”

“How did I get stuck with you two on my night off?” Jin despairs.  “It’s like I’m watching three babies.”

“Wow.  Filicide.  Way to turn this biblical.  I like it!” Tae says from the ground.  He gives a thumbs up and Byeol gives him one too.  Oh, you could just eat her up. So cute!

Instead, you lightly elbow Jin.  "I don't think you have a leg to stand on with your Mario figurines and Maplestory plushies," you tease.

"Cuz that's so much worse than a room with my face plastered all over it like a shrine."  Jin smirks at your growing horror.

Oh my god.  You kick Tae who "oof"s. "Tae, I told you that in confidence!"

Tae's eyes widen.  "You can't remember what you ate two weeks ago, but you remember telling me that in confidence?!"

"I didn't remember, but thanks for confirming, you dog bird! And no one remembers what they ate two weeks ago!" you hiss.  

"Waffles. Chapagetti. Ojingeo bokkeum."

"You made that up!"

"No, I didnt!"

"Dog bird!"

"Y/N!" Tae whines.

There's no way you'd ever volunteer that info to Jin who is now squeaking the most you’ve ever heard him squeak.  Of course, Tae told him.  He’s a sucker for bribes and probably traded that secret for nothing more than dumplings.  Tae begs apologies to you, but you're having none of it.  You're so embarrassed you could die.

Byeol reaches for Tae so Jin carefully sets her on Tae’s stomach, who immediately pulls her down to nuzzle her ruddy cheeks.  Ignoring Jin’s continued amusement at your expense, you dig out your phone and start taking pictures.  As you snap pictures of the two, you can’t help but think this is what Tae meant.  Making new memories.  Having new experiences.  You feel eyes on you.  Jin’s laughter has subsided, but he watches you three, content.  He winks at you and you wink back.  

A small woman appears beside him.  “You know, the other day, I almost thought Byeol was having a stroke, but I finally figured out her weird blink was just her trying to wink.  I’m kind of scared to see what she’s gonna be like as an adult with all of you influencing her,” she says wryly as she parks her stroller.  

“Well, at least she has Y/N and noona, so it won’t be that bad,” Tae coos, stroking Byeol’s back.

Areum waves his flattery away, for this must be Areum.  Light brown hair and fae-like with her sharp eyes and sharp nose, but soft lashes and delicate hands.  You’re immediately intimidated by her, but to your surprise she pulls you in and embraces you.  For such a small person, she hugs like a bear.  She pulls back and gives you a once over.  

“You look like you’re in one piece, so that’s good,” she says, gently brushing your hair back.  “I’m Areum, Seokjung’s wife and Jin’s hyungsu.  I know you don’t remember me, but if you ever need anything, like a break from those crazy boys, you just call unnie, okay?  You have my number in your phone.”  

Her motherly tone is warm and inviting and you can't hide the eagerness in your voice.  “I don’t need a break, but I’d love to spend time with you.”   

Areum exudes a quiet confidence that you wish you could emulate.  It isn’t arrogant or vain, even though she’d have every right to be with her looks, but rather it’s a surety in how she holds herself.  Like she knows who she is and what she brings to the table.  You could do with some of that.

You’re graced with a pleased smile.  “Let’s do dinner on Saturday then.  We’d love to spend one on one time with you.  Plus, I think Byeol would love that.”

“Me too.  Let’s do it.”

“What about me?” Tae whines.  “I want to spend more time with Byeol.”

Areum turns a stern look at Tae.  “I know for a fact you have a GQ photoshoot that evening.  There’s no way you’re getting out of it.  Don’t pout.  You don’t think I’ve become immune?  Byeol has taught me resolve of steel.”

Tae makes a sad cry when Areum lifts a sleepy Byeol off him.  

“Sorry, samchon.  You can schedule a different day.  I need to get oppa and this little one home and into bed.  Say goodbye, Byeol.” 

Byeol rubs her eyes and half-consciously waves.  Your eyes catch Tae’s and you share a telepathic contemplation of kidnapping, but you’re scheming is interrupted by the sight of Jin kissing Byeol.  With a sleight of hand you’re not normally capable of, you manage to take a picture in time.  It’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, and you secretly set it as your homescreen.  Movement has you looking up as Areum starts moving away.

“Wait!  Seokjung told me to give Byeol a kiss.”  Areum pauses and kindly waits for you, her smile encouraging despite your outburst.  

Byeol is already asleep in the stroller, hand clutching a blanket and mouth open in a soft o.  You stroke her hair and press your lips to her soft cheek.  “Sweet dreams, Byeol.” 

You place your corsage next to her, petals brushing her hair.  You know Tae won’t get mad at you for passing the gift on.  It just feels right to do.  The three of you watch Areum make her way out of the park, carefully pushing Byeol.  

Your hair stands on end.  Your heartbeat quickens and your body tenses, your gut clenching.  You’re not sure why, until you spot people following Areum and Byeol.  Your mind sounds an alarm, words like ‘stalker’, ‘sasaeng’, and ‘protect’ blaring.  You move to chase after them, but Jin catches your naked wrist.

“It’s okay.  Breathe, Y/N.  They’re just bodyguards,” he explains.  He rubs your wrist and takes a deep breath, showing you how to breathe.  And now you see it, when Tae and Jin’s bodyguards nod to those people.  You continue the deep, steady breaths, the ball of panic dissipating.

Tae tugs the hem of your sweater from your hand.  You hadn’t even noticed you were fiddling with it.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.  I’m okay,” you answer weakly.  You suddenly feel exhausted.  Exhausted from a full day.  A good day that you refuse to let the last thirty seconds ruin.

Jin shifts his hand to interlace your fingers.  “Let’s go home.”

You nod and Tae loops your free arm into his, a note of whimsy in your steps as you all stroll home.

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Jimin’s hair is dark blonde and fluffy, framing pudgy cheeks.  It should be against the laws of nature that his jawline can be both rounded and sharp.  His plump lips are upturned, eyes slightly crinkled as he steadily holds your gaze.  At least it isn’t all of them at once, you think.  You don't feel any wild emotions emanating from Jimin.  He is calm and collected, and you just know that if you refused, he would take it in stride, no offense taken, and leave you alone. That makes the decision for you.  Plus, maybe you can absorb some of his calm collectedness.  You nod, which earns you the sweetest smile.  You swear the chill up here has warmed with Jimin’s presence alone.  He sits across from you, legs tucked under him, and he enjoys the view, head bobbing to a tune only he can hear.  You’re a little tense, waiting for the questions and well-meaning reassurances, but none come.  You begin to relax, melting back into your seat.  

Your meditation is broken, as is your resolve to think of nothing, but this feels nice.  Sitting here with Jimin is the most peace you’ve had so far.  With Jin, you felt on edge and raw.  The banter had been fun, but he was disconcerting, the knowing look in his eyes dissecting you.  Jimin is paying you no mind, focused on the outside view.  Below, cars line bumper to bumper and throngs of people bustle along.  

“Is it always this chaotic?” you ask.

“Yup.  Wait, did you mean us or down there?”

“Down there.”

“Yup.”

You peek over at Jimin, his fingers tapping an unknown rhythm.  “What would you have said if I meant us?”  

Jimin laughs, his eyes disappearing into adorable crescents.  “Us?  Chaotic?  Have you met Tae?”

“Oh.  Uh, no, I haven’t,” you murmur.  You know what Jimin meant of course.  Kim Taehyung’s idol persona was the poster child for ADHD, but no, you haven’t met the real Taehyung yet.  

“Do you want to?!”  Taehyung shrieks.  He stands in front of the balcony door, arms akimbo, superhero pose, looking off into the distance.  You would be intimidated by his unearthly handsomeness, but his shaggy black hair and boxy smile is a giant flashing marquee reading ‘golden retriever energy’.  

Jimin sighs, exasperated. “Tae, I told you we shouldn’t overwhelm her.”

“But you guys were talking about me.”

“Barely.”

“Too late!” Taehyung exclaims.  He marches over to Jimin and unceremoniously plops down into his lap.  Bestowing a pleased smile upon you, Tae’s eyes assess you in a more serious manner.  “I heard Jin-hyung fucked up.”

“Tae!  Manner-mode!”

“Aww, Jiminie, we don’t need manner-mode in front of Y/N!  She’s family!”  

“She’s never met you before!”

“Sure she has!  She just doesn’t remember!”  You thought you weren’t ready to face anyone, but watching the two bicker is giving you life.  You're in uncharted waters, but somehow, they feel like home.  Jimin and Taehyung break into giggles and your mouth quirks up.

Jimin pokes Tae.  “See.  Chaotic.”

Taehyung whines, “But Jin-hyung really did fuck up.  Right, Y/N?”

No, “ssi”.  Just comfortably Y/N.  They all have been addressing you like this, as if it’s natural, and you didn’t even realize it until now.  This kindles a bit of hope in your heart.  Hope for what, you have no idea, but there it is.  A spark of something.  “Yeah, Tae.  Jin literally explained nothing.”  

Tae throws a smug look at Jimin, who puffs in fond annoyance.  They communicate with eyes in a way that you know is a full blown conversation between people who know every tick of the other.  Tae shrugs, Jimin sinks like he concedes and they both target you with their attention.  

Jimin speaks first.  “Let's start with your head injury and memory loss, and then the Rules.”

“Rules?”

“Nuh-uh-uh.  No skipping ahead,” Tae wags a finger at you.  You roll your eyes and Tae gasps.  “Brat.”

“Takes one to know one,” you counter.  Tae’s grin is delighted and he squeezes Jimin tightly.

“Tae.  Air,” Jimin wheezes.  

“Oh, shush.  You’re fine.  So!  We’re gonna tell it to you straight!  Jin-hyung and Yoongi-hyung always suck at explaining things.  Jin-hyung tries to be tactful.  Yoongi-hyung tries to be profound.  And it’s like, why can’t you just say it and have at it!”

Jimin cuts in, “And Tae likes to tell things straight, but not before going off on a long ass tangent.”

“Manner-mode, my ass.”

“You’re an ass, you ass.”

They are gonna be the death of you.  Amusing as they are, this is getting out of hand.  Jimin and Tae are in their mid-twenties and yet they act like a pair of naughty seven year olds when they’re together, and you can’t even be mad. You clear your throat dramatically.  “Okay, so my head injury?”  

The two pause their argument.  Chastened, Jimin explains, “You’ve always had complex dreams.  We even talked about how you should write and publish them because your dreams are always so vivid and vibrant, which might be why things are so mixed up now.  You see, one day, you were assaulted.  You confronted an ex-employee who turned out to be a sasaeng and they attacked you.  You were in a coma for a week.”  

That’s scary.  With the number of scars on your body, a car accident seemed the most likely scenario, but to have this number of injuries due to someone attacking you.  It seems brutal and excessive.  

Jimin continues, “You woke up, and at first, you were fine and normal...but then you woke up the next day and didn’t recognize us.”  Jimin frowns here.

Tae takes over, “You had created this whole other world in your dreams where you are American.  You have a mom and live with your cousin.  You have a whole life with going to bars with friends, attending music festivals, going on family trips to Minnesota, and yet the only memory you have of us in these dreams is that you like our music.  You and Jo-ssi, Marlena-ssi and Garrett-ssi celebrate us from afar.  You’re just a fan of BTS in your dreams, but in reality, you’re our noona!”  Tae looks like he’s getting worked up and Jimin touches his arm, but Tae shrugs it off, beginning again.  “Eventually, you regained your memories, and for a time, things were okay.”

“But then it happened again,” Jimin says sadly.  “One day you went to bed, and then you woke up and forgot.  This began to happen regularly.  You saw so many doctors and tried many different treatments, but this became a normal occurrence.  So, you came up with a plan.  You came up with the Four Cardinal Rules.”

“Rule one,” Tae recites, “Don’t overload Y/N with information.  She thinks she wants to know everything, but she can’t handle it all at once because of her anxiety.”

“Rule two,” Jimin recites, “No drugs, like drinking.  We aren’t even allowed to give you coffee.”  

Tae nods in concurrence.  “You won’t even take an aspirin when you get your period.”

Jimin smacks him.  “Rude! Why are you talking about that?”

Tae is offended by the smack and begins a dramatic monologue complete with death scene and death rattle.  You aren’t able to fully appreciate the scene unfolding before you because they just told you that you don't drink.  Jin told you that you got drunk here last night.  Another clue in the category of things not adding up.  You try to school your expression to hide your discomfort even though all you have echoing in your head is “He lied. He lied. He lied.”

Jimin has to bestow Tae with the correct amount of appreciation before he is allowed to continue, “Rule three: You can’t leave Korea.”

“Nope,” Tae emphasizes, and even he looks uncharacteristically grave at this rule.  

“We made this rule after you tried to make a life in--where was it?  Wisconnisan?  Wiscanisoon?  You regained your memory three weeks in and freaked out when you were surrounded by strangers.”

“It was nuts!” Tae exclaims, eyes wide.

“And finally, rule four,” Jimin interjects.  “We can’t talk about past versions of you.  I mean, we can talk about the you before all of this memory fiasco stuff, but we aren’t allowed to tell you what memory-fog you has already done because there’s really no point in trying to repeat things.  You decided a long time ago to just live with it as best you can, and part of living is ‘playing the cards you’re dealt with’.”  

Tae scrunches his nose in distaste.  “Yeah, you said that.  Word for word.  I don’t like that rule.  It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Jimin rubs Tae’s back and says, “We have of course broken all of these rules a couple times before.  It’s hard to resist your puppy eyes.  Except rule three.  That one time was insane, believe me.  But so far it seems like all these rules have good reasons to be followed, especially since you came up with them yourself.  So, we’re trying to fulfill your wishes, and well--” Here, Jimin squeezes Tae in a tight hug and Tae swings his legs delightedly. “You’ve always known best, Y/N.”

You’re trying to soak all of this in.  You want to know more about the attack and you also wonder how many past versions of you there are.  How often have you done this that the boys all just so used to helping you---and not even you, you, but a you who is essentially a stranger to them until you regain your memories.

It doesn’t seem like Jimin, Tae, and the rest of them are allowed to tell you all that much, and they’re right.  You need time to digest all the information they give you, so you can’t be digging too deep just yet.  You have to trust that things will unfold as they will until you figure this out.  Still, the feeling that they’re holding back something else won’t leave you.  It could just be rule four that you’re bucking at, but Jin straight up lied to you.  You’ve been quiet for a hot minute, and in the meantime, Jimin and Tae have turned to each other to play thumb wars, patiently waiting for you to absorb all this.  You measure your next words carefully so that they follow the rules, although this question might be pushing it.  “So, how long does it usually take me to remember everything?”

Jimin and Tae immediately stop their game and do their telepathy thing before Jimin concedes to your question and answers, “Honestly, it’s taking you longer and longer to remember, and your time of remembering gets shorter and shorter.”  He shrugs.  “Sorry, Y/N.  I really can’t be more specific without breaking rules.”  

That’s not encouraging.  If all of this is true, what is there to be done?  How are you supposed to live like this??  And how many times do you have to stave off these panic attacks?  You white-knuckle the armrest of your seat to ground yourself, fingers digging into the edge of the varnished wood.  

“That’s enough of that!”  Tae jumps out of Jimin’s lap and hauls him up.  “I need a group hug!”  Jimin giggles and they make a space for you, beckoning for you to join them.  You peel your fingers off the patio chair and stand.  They immediately enclose you.  The perfect Vmin sandwich, cocooned safely in the center.  

Tae murmurs, “Sorry, Y/N.  I lied.  It looked like you really needed a hug so I asked for one.”  

A tear trickles down your cheek.  “That’s okay.  You were right.  I really needed one.”

—

Jimin has done your makeup and Tae picked out your outfit.  You’re amazed because no one would be able to tell how red your nose and eyes are from crying.  Apparently, you’re gonna go shopping after the boys eat breakfast because the three of you had made plans for today days ago and this is the perfect excuse to get your mind off things.  You, Jimin, and Tae walk into the living room to see Hobi, Joon and Jungkook eating breakfast at the dining table.  It looks like Jin made them the same breakfast spread.  Jimin and Tae grab a seat and pile food on their plates.  You sit opposite them next to Joon, facing the window wall.  The sticky notes are all gone.  

They’re all doing their own thing.  Joon is reading a book, kimchi forgotten on a fork clutched in one hand.  Hobi is doing something on his phone while he nibbles on a slice of pork belly.  Jungkook is staring off into space like he’s doing complex math.  Who knows?  Maybe he is.  You definitely are.  In all of time and space, here you are, having breakfast with most of the members of BTS.  Bangtansonyeondan in the flesh.  They’re your best friends and you don't even know how it happened.  You remember being so jealous hearing that Marlena got to touch their hands at a fan sign touch event in the past.  Marlena would die in excitement if she could see you now.

Namjoon finally chomps on his kimchi and notices you.  “Good morning.  What are you three up to today?”  

“Shopping.”  

“Cool.”  He turns his attention back to his book.  You just spoke with best leader, Kim Namjoon.  You always thought given the chance that you’d gush to him about how his music has helped you and inspired you.  You wonder if you should still do that, or if that’d be weird.  Probably weird.  You look up and down the table.  Yoongi isn’t here and neither is Jin.  You knew Jin wouldn’t be here because of his appointment with his brother.  Frankly, you’re both disappointed and relieved not to see him.  Disappointed because he’s your bias, but relieved because of the weird tension between the both of you that you don’t understand yet.  The real Jin was a bit terrifying.

Hobi notices you looking at the empty chairs, as he hands Tae a jar of strawberry jam.  “Yoongi-hyung went to his studio, and Jin-hyung had an appointment with his brother at their restaurant.”  

Ah, Genius Lab and Ossu Seiromushi.  Gotcha.  You wish you could vent and get advice from Marlena and Jo right now.  They’d help you work through your thoughts and feelings.  You look over at Tae and Jimin.  In the time you’ve left them alone, they somehow conjured up a bag of gummy bears and decided to bite the heads and bodies off, exchanging colors to reconnect them into franken-bears.  Are Tae and Jimin your new Marlena and Jo?  Tae finger flicks one of the franken-bears and its plops into Jungkook’s glass of banana milk, which splashes him and Hobi, startling the younger from his “mental math”.  Tae and Jimin both snicker under Hobi’s adult glare.   ...maybe they’re not quite Marlena and Jo, but close enough, you guess.

“Y/N-noona”  You look over at Jungkook who’s shyly trying to get your attention.  Black hair unstyled with guileless doe eyes, idol Jungkook is a menace, but here in this setting, he’s just a kid.  He may be twenty-three, but his smile reads innocent and vulnerable.  

“Yeah, JK?” You smile at him brightly and his smile turns toothy, nose scrunching.  

“Want some fruit?”

“Yes, please.”

Jungkook jumps up to fulfill your wish.  He grabs two nectarines, stuffs one in his pocket, and cuts up the second nectarine, which he then artfully arranges into the shape of a flower with the pit being the center.  He flourishes the plate and sets it in front you.

“Thanks, Kookie.”  Pleased, he squeezes your shoulder and then he’s out the front door, whipping his backpack onto his back.  

What a sweetie.  You dig in, wondering if Jungkook is off to work out, dance practice, or record.  He’s diligent like that, or at least that’s what you think.  Seeing as how you don’t have your ‘true’ memory, all you have as reference to these guys are dream memories.  Let's see.  Hobi likes to be clean.  He laughs a lot, but he can also be severe, with a fine line between fun and professionalism.  He’s our hope, our sunshine.  Hobi catches you looking at him and gives you a derpy smile, making cute aegyo sounds before turning to look back at his phone.  His hair is a bouncy caramel brown and his skin is enviously flawless and dewy.

Next to you is Namjoon.  He’s much taller and broader in person than you expected.    Namjoon is smart, if a bit clumsy.  He’s the leader, but he’s actually a maknae, the middle child between the dongsaengs and the hyungs.  Namjoon’s blonde hair isn’t brushed yet, his brows furrowed and teeth clenched, riveted by his book.

And there’s also one other thing about Namjoon that you remember.

“Namjoon-oppa.  Tae and Jimin were telling me about the rules,” you say to him.  

Namjoon is distracted, engrossed in his book.  Offhandedly, he says, “Oh, the rules?  They told you the six rules.  Yup, those are important to know.”

Bingo.

The table erupts in yelling and groans and protests as Jimin, Tae, and Hobi pounce on Namjoon for revealing what he shouldn’t have.  Namjoon is startled from his book and shrinks into his chair, sheepish against the onslaught of verbal abuse from his brothers.  

You are triumphant.  You are wrathful.  You are pissed.  You stand up and the room goes silent.  They each look guilty and avoid your gaze.  Except for Hobi.  He meets your gaze head on.   “What are rules five and six?” you question, tone accusatory.  “I was told there were only the ‘Four Cardinal Rules.’"  You don’t hesitate with the air quotes.

Namjoon is about to say something, but Hobi’s glare silences him, and before Tae and Jimin can get a word in, Hobi tuts at them.  Hobi considers for a moment and then motions for you to sit, which you do reluctantly.  You’re so done with all the deceit.  You want to walk out the door and just keep walking, but you need to know what they’re hiding.  

Army always gets this thrill when our hope, Hobi, becomes dance leader Hoseok, his countenance severe.  Being subjected to this side of him is a whole other thing.  It withers your anger a bit.  The way he’s wordlessly put you and the boys in your place is an art that you can’t help but respect and admire.  

“Rule six,” he says, “is we can’t tell you about rules five and six.  The damage has been done, but all's not lost.  We all agreed to stick to your rules.  The rules you created.  You made us promise.  You did.  So we are going to do our best to honor you.  I’m sorry, but that’s all we can say.”  He pointedly looks at Jimin, Tae, and Namjoon.  Namjoon apologizes and then gets up to wash his finished plate and retreats to his room.  Jimin and Tae turn their attention back to breakfast glancing at you apologetically every now and then.  Annoyed, you finish the plate of nectarines, but you revel a little in your small victory.

Savoring the last piece of fruit, you lock eyes with Hoseok, who is very much still Hoseok and not Hobi right now.  He’s looking at you with suspicious, calculating eyes.  You know he knows that you did that to Namjoon on purpose.  Namjoon, god of destruction.  The Spoiler King.  You don’t know how it's possible, but Hoseok deepens his gaze and suddenly you know that he knows that you know that he knows.  You flash him a sassy smile, daintily wiping your mouth with a napkin.  He rolls his eyes and Hobi’s back, smiling at your antics, but there’s a note of concern there.    

So, there are two more rules.  Rules Five and Six.  What could be so detrimental that you can’t even KNOW the rules?  They think they’re trying to protect you, but you need to get to the bottom of this before you lose yourself again.  It must be hard on them to have to deal with a clueless Y/N, but you need more concrete answers.  You steel yourself.  You’re gonna figure this out, and none of them can stop you.

—

Jimin plops the shopping bags on the ground next to door 602.  He struggles with the keys against the door and then he swings it open.  He gestures for you to walk in first, and then follows with the shopping bags.  

The apartment is small.  The living room is cozy with a white fabric couch and loveseat with the same red throw pillows as the ones on the sectional in the boys' condo.  There’s a cute espresso-colored coffee table and a modest flatscreen tv.  This apartment is also open concept with a tiny kitchenette and small breakfast nook.  You follow a short hall to a standard bathroom.  You notice that the toothbrush holder is empty.  

Across from the bathroom is your bedroom. A queen-sized bed takes up a large amount of space, but a fancy vanity takes up the other.  An assortment of skincare products and hair and makeup products are organized neatly.  The sliding door closet contains a sparse amount of clothes.  Seems a majority of your clothes is housed elsewhere…  

In the living room, Jimin is now sprawled on the couch.   

“So, this is my apartment,” you say aloud.  

“Yup.  It’s home sweet home à la mode.”  

“What does that even mean?”

Jimin considers and then wrinkles his forehead.  “I have no idea.  It’s what Tae says.  Something he picked up from Paris, but I’m pretty sure he’s using it wrong.”  You both giggle at the likelihood.   

Jimin sighs in satisfaction.  “We’ve made many memories here.”  

He motions at the wall above him.  All the walls are teeming with a collage of framed photos.  In one, you and Jimin are wearing corgi head hats posing cutely in front of a carousel.  In another, all eight of you are holding trays of fresh strawberries in a greenhouse, smiling brightly.  There must have been a strawberry fight because there are red smears all over us.  In this one, you, Kookie, Hobi, and Tae are having a sleepover.  The four of you are piled in this very living room with face sheet masks on, tangled in blankets and pillows and surrounded by snacks.

It’s a patchwork of moments you have no memory of and you feel…regret?  Sad?  Bitter?  You trace over your smile in one of the photos and wish you could be so carefree.  The head of a picture hanging nail scrapes your palm.  There’s a missing picture frame.  On further inspection, there are a few empty, dustless spots where some frames are missing.   Curiouser and curiouser.

“Jimin?”  

“Hmm?”

“Why are all my clothes in Jin’s room?  And my toothbrush?”

Jimin clothes his eyes and waves his arms around.  “Well, even though you live here, you mostly stay with us because of the memory thing and so we can keep an eye on you.  And Jin has the biggest closet.  He has the biggest room in the whole condo actually.  Hyung perks.  How is that fair?  I didn’t choose when my parents decided to get it on.  Ew.  That was a wrong turn in the brain.  Insane in the membrane.  And It’s not like Tae and I have any space to spare.  Joon can barely take care of himself.  Hobi has a meticulous system that none of us understand.  Yoongi likes his own space.  And Kookie’s room is like a jungle.  One of these days, I swear, we’re gonna have to dig him out of there, dead by suffocation under a mountain of basic black tees.  Imagine explaining that to his mom.  ‘Sorry, eomma.  Sorry, appa.  Kookie fell victim to the wormhole of his own diabolical creation.’  Yup, that’ll go over well.”

Hilarious, but also sus.  Jimin’s explanation is plausible, but he’s rambling at this point.  And he’s avoiding eye contact.  Before you can dig any further, he quickly sit up.  He fishes keys out of his pocket and shoves them into your hands.   

“Welp!  Gotta go!  Dinner will be ready in an hour.  Yoongi says he’s making Chick-maek.”  Jimin scurries to the door, but stops dead in his tracks.  “Aish, almost forgot.”  He pulls out a cellphone and hands it to me.  “This is yours.  I’ll give you some time to yourself, but if you feel too lonely, come over and hang out with us.  We’ll probably be catching up on Itaewon Class.”  And then he’s gone.

For Jimin’s bite-size, he filled the room better than an extension charm.  Now that it’s just you, the apartment feels like the yawning maw of a lion threatening to swallow you up.  You perch yourself on the loveseat and the phone unlocks with your face.  The photo gallery is filled with you and the boys.  Concerts.  Shenanigans at Big Hit with other employees. Travel photos. In one picture, you’re standing in front of the Eiffel Tower with Joon, your backs turned in a half-heart pose together to form one complete heart. 

You’re not on any social media.  There’s no facebook.  There’s no instagram.  There’s no twitter.  The contact list has quite a few numbers from restaurants, Big Hit coworkers, and networking professionals.  The only numbers you recognize are the boys and Bang PD.  

You never memorized Jo’s number.  You dont have anyone's number memorized.  You didn’t think you would need to.  You create an instagram account and look for her.  You look for your mom.  You look for your cousins and friends.  They all seem to be doing okay and you don't know how you feel about that.  What gets you are the familiar pictures.  Birthdays.  Parties.  Electric Forest.  It’s like the twilight zone.  Events that you remember attending, but now have not.  Pictures you knew you had posed in, but are no longer in.  Not even a ghost or whisper that you ever existed in their lives as if someone had scrupulously erased you.  You lock your useless phone and chuck it at the other couch.  

Gathering the shopping bags Jimin had plopped in the living room, you bring them over to your bedroom.  As you organize your haul, you notice that, here too, there are empty spaces where picture frames should be.  Why would anyone need to hide photos?  Did you get rid of them?  Or did someone else?

Dinner will be ready soon.  It’ll be the first time you’ll be with all seven of the boys.  It should be fine, right?  You just spent the whole day with Jimin and Tae.  They cheerfully dragged you all over Seoul to shops and boutiques and pojangmachas.  No ajumma could resist them.  And apparently, your credit score here is top-notch because you have a black card.  In your name.  Wild.  The three of you ate some street tteokboki by the Han river and people watched for a bit until Jimin and Tae were inevitably recognized.  You all had to leave, or risk getting mobbed.  Overall, it was a good time.

But in a room with all seven of them at once?  Your heart quickens.  You’re fine with each of the boys, but Jin in particular…you don’t know how you’ll face him.  The both of you left things half-finished and you don’t know if you can recover from that into some semblance of, what?  Friendship?  Is that what you are?  Do friends lie to each other?  

For a split second, you almost entertain the idea of skipping dinner, but who are you kidding?  You’ll go.  The boys are your only lifeline, you reason with yourself while trying to ignore the phantom sensations of bony fingers holding yours, the easy laugh that makes it easy to smile, and the clear eyes that seemed to see right through to your core.  

He lied.  He lied.  He lied.  The echo weakens as you feel the gravitational pull to the man you know is waiting a few floors above you.  

Decision made, you touch up your makeup, staring intently at your reflection.   You read a study somewhere that if you stare into a mirror too closely for too long, it can trigger an almost hallucinogenic effect of face blindness or distortion.  Your face is the same face you’ve always known it, at least you think it is.  You have the same neat eyebrows.  Same smooth lips and high cheekbones.  Same dark brown, almond eyes sitting beside the nose you inherited from your mother.  Well, actually, who knows who you got your nose from because apparently you’re an orphan.

In your dreams, your mom was a single mother and you were an only child.  Your parents divorced when you were a toddler.  You spent most of your growing years with your mother’s side of the family until you found family and friendship with estranged cousins from your father’s side.  You wonder if there is some version of mother walking around oblivious that she almost had you as a daughter.  You wonder if Jo is living alone or has some other roommate.  You wonder if Marlena, Jo, and Garrett are even friends because you were the common denominator between the three.  But here you are.  Alone.

There’s a knock on your door and Tae waltzes in.  Well, you’re not quite alone.  Apparently, you have BTS.  You have Jungkook, Tae, Jimin, Hobi, Namjoon, Yoongi...and Jin.  

“Dinner is finished.  Ready to go?”  

Even if you’re not, the world keeps on turning and you have to, too.

Previous Chapter <- - -> Next Chapter

“Y/N, give them a hint!”  

You reluctantly pull back from the hug and catch a glimpse of Hobi’s face before he retreats to hug Jimin on the couch like some sort of lifeline.  

“Y/N!  Hint!”  Tae demands.  You shove him in playful annoyance as he dances a circle around you.  Closing your eyes, you take a dramatic deep breath to ready your performance, just because you know it’ll make him happy.  

Making sure you have everyone’s attention, you announce, “The most beautiful girl in the world is kaepjjang.”  

You flash everyone a thumbs up.

“You saw the family,” Yoongi guesses, mouth split with a gummy grin.  “How was it?”

“Fun.  Adorable,” you answer, as Tae hugs you from behind.  “I’m gonna have dinner with them on Saturday.”

Hobi purses his lips.  “Don’t we have plans Saturday evening?”

Your forehead creases as you run through your schedule.  “I don’t think so.  Don’t all of you have a GQ magazine shoot?”

“Not all of us,” Hobi says, as everyone looks at each other in confusion.  Hobi tilts his head and a lightbulb must go off because he goes, “Actually, I think I was remembering that Jungkook wants to spend time with you Saturday night, but I think I jumped the gun before he could ask you.” 

You whip your head to Jungkook who freezes mid-chew of an apple when he realizes everyone is staring at him.  

“What?” he asks, nervous and bug eyed.

“You were gonna ask Y/N to hang out with you Saturday,” Hobi reminds him.

Jungkook scrunches his nose.  “But we have that GQ shoot.”

Now, you’re confused.  “Uhhhh, what is happening right now?  Are we caught in a time loop?”

“Kookie, we already talked about the schedule and you said you wanted to hang with Y/N since it looks like you’re free.”  Hobi’s voice is measured, but it sounds like his patience is thin.  “Kookie said he was a little jealous that you had dinner with Tae.”

“Aww, Jungkookie.”  You feel your heart twinge a bit for the softest of the boys.  “I was already planning on asking you to hang out next.”

Jungkook looks between you and Hobi, uncertain.  “Really?”

“Really, really,” you reassure.

He zips towards you in excitement and Tae almost gets gutted by the forgotten apple in Jungkook’s hand in his enthusiasm.  “Oh!  We could go to an arcade!  Or have a picnic!  Ooh!  Or we could go to Lotte World!”

“We can do whatever you want,” you tell him as he clasps you in a tentative hug.  Of all of them, Jungkook has been the most careful with touching you.  With the others, he climbs, wrestles, and clambers all over them just fine, but he’s always so careful with you, making sure he’s in your line of sight before he makes a move, afraid to startle you.  It’s really sweet and you adore him for it.  You smooch a kiss to his head and he feigns disgust even as he blushes.  “I’ll have to text Areum-unnie to reschedule.”

Hobi bobs his head.  “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

“Um, okay.  Well, I’m gonna go do my skincare and then come back in pajamas.”  

“We’re gonna do an Itaewon Class Slumber Party Marathon Extravaganza!” Tae announces.  It takes a moment for that to sink in with the boys, and then everyone starts moving all at once.

Yoongi fights a yawn, “I’m not gonna watch, but I’ll sleep out here with you guys.”

“Do we have enough snacks?”   Jimin runs to scour the kitchen pantry.

Jungkook dashes to his room.  “I’ve got a stash if we don’t!” he shouts.

“I need to go wash up too,” Jin shares out loud, Namjoon following behind him..  

The only ones left in the room are you and Hobi.  

“You said you’re gonna get ready and come back,” Hobi says, probably wondering what you’re still doing here.

He looks normal enough, but something seems off.  You can’t put your finger on it, and you don’t want to guess.  “Are you okay?”

He shoots aegyo finger hearts at you.  “Of course!  I’m excited for a sleepover with all my favorite people!”

Yeah, that enthusiasm seemed forced, but you decide not to call him out on it.  Hobi is a bit of a control freak, so it takes some time for him to process things before he’s ready to talk about them.  He’ll tell you when he’s ready.  

“I can’t promise I won’t pass out early,” you admit with a yawn.  “I have lunch with Jieun and a friend tomorrow and I don’t want to be fantasizing about naps when I’m with them.  I’ll be right back, Hobi-oppa.”

As you head to your apartment, you realize that spending time with the boys has become part of your nightly routine.  Everything has been smooth sailing so far, and you think this might be a good time to tell them about your recovering memories like how you met Jin and your school days with Tae.  You’re practically giddy because it finally feels like there’s progress.  You change into your pajamas and wonder if you should bring a sleeping pad, but when you go to text Hobi or Jimin, you can’t find your phone.  You must have left it at their condo.  Oh well. 

You decide to take an extra pillow anyway and practically skip back.  However, as you approach their door, your excitement dampens. You don’t know how the atmosphere could have changed so quickly in your absence, but the tension and distress emanating from the closed door is practically corporeal, a heated argument bleeding through.  You hover in place, debating if you should go in and mediate or if you should head back to your apartment to give them space when you are startled to hear your name. 

“Y/N was never supposed meet her,” Hoseok spits.  

“Y/N needs her.  She needs more than us.  Who are we to get in the way of that?”  Tae argues.

“We all agreed!  Y/N agreed!  She shouldn’t be near her because she can’t be trusted.”  

Who can’t be trusted?  Jieun?  Areum?  Who else do you know?  Hye?  Daeyon?  Is it you who can’t be trusted?

Jimin tries to reel things back.  “Hobi-hyung.  It’s been long enough and she seems better.  I think she can handle it.”  

“All of you are being selfish.  She needs more time.  Jin-hyung, back me up.”

Silence.  

“Really, hyung?  She’s relying on you.  Can you really be this weak?”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi growls.  “That was uncalled for.”

“Jin-hyung, you know you can’t have anything to do with Y/N.  She’ll be devastated.  You have too much baggage.  And Jieun-noona already admitted to telling her about Rule Five.  But it doesn’t change the fact that you can’t be with her.”

“I’m not trying to be with her.  I’m trying to be there for her.”

This distinction is both a balm and a cut to your heart.  You’ve been presented with a window to look in, but a boundary has been drawn that you can’t step over.  The potential for something more with Jin is pulled out from under you before you could start.  Was there really nothing else between you two?  Were all your flashbacks just a delusion, or something your brain created to fill in the gaps?  Your stomach plummets at the idea that you used a sexual fantasy to confirm a nonexistent connection between you and Jin.  It makes you feel dirty like, maybe you used him, or he used you.  

Hoseok laughs, but it sounds hollow and mean.  “Sure.  You don’t think I see the way things are going with you two?”

“Frankly, it’s none of your business.”

“Like I said.  Selfish.”

“Hoseok,” Namjoon cuts in, voice even.  “We all want what’s best for her, but–and pardon my french–you’re kind of being an asshole.”

“And all of you are crazy.  Things are moving too fast.  If she gets spooked, she’ll make a run for it.  We need to keep an eye on her.  She should stay home.  She shouldn’t be working.  And most of all, she shouldn’t be spending time with Jin-hyung’s family.”

“They’re part of this family too,” Yoongi states firmly.  “And they’re a part of this debacle.”

“Regardless, we agreed she can’t know the truth about any of this.  How many times are we going to keep doing this?  She’s already getting too close and she won’t be able to handle it.  I’m gonna call Bang PD-nim tomorrow about having her take leave from work.  I already took care of Areum-noona.”

“Wait,” Jimin says.  “Is that why you threw Jungkook at her?  So she couldn’t spend time with them?”

You hear Jungkook whimper in distress.  

Jin seethes.  “What did you do?”

“I told Areum-noona that Y/N isn’t feeling up to spending time with them.  And I deleted her and Seokjung-hyung from Y/N’s phone.”

“How did you get her phone?” Tae asks in disbelief.  

“She left it here.”

You are reeling as your trust shatters, frozen in place.  Your brain screams.  You need to run, but your body won’t move.

“I think we’re all losing sight of the goal.  You especially, Hoseok-hyung,” Jimin bites out.

“No.  I’ve never been more sure.  This is how we heal.”

Tae is so angry he sounds like he’s on the verge of frustrated tears.  “But we already are healing.  We had a moment.”

“Yeah?  And how do you know our powers of suggestion and her trauma didn’t manufacture that moment?”  Hobi’s words suck the air from your lungs, spilling the exact doubt that haunts you.  You will your numb limbs to move.  

“What are you trying to do?  Seriously?  What’s the point?” Jin shouts.

“Hyung!  Please stop fighting.  Please,” Jungkook cries.  His sobs are muffled as someone comforts him.

You’re already moving towards the elevator, Namjoon’s voice fading the further you go.  “Okay, guys.  We need to calm down.  Y/N is gonna be here any minute and we need to pull it together–”

—

You’re curled up in bed when someone comes to check up on you later.  You tried to will yourself to sleep, but your brain is running a mile a minute, their words playing on repeat in your head, mocking you.  Someone approaches your bed, so you close your eyes and lay very still, pretending to sleep.  Your hair is brushed back and they slowly rub your back.  

“Y/N?  Are you asleep?”  

It’s Jin.  You struggle to remain still, to not lean into the comforting circles he’s rubbing into your back, but you can’t trust this feeling.  You can’t trust anyone.  You can’t give anymore pieces of you when you barely have enough for yourself.  You wish you could pull Jin in and have him hold you like he did the first night.  You had thought he was your best friend, but now that you think about it, he never said so.  It was simply the conclusion you had drawn.  So, you don’t open your eyes.  You don’t say a word.  You focus on keeping your breathing slow and steady.  

Jin doesn’t leave.  He continues rubbing your back and you reluctantly let it lull you into true sleep.  As you drift off, you think you hear him say, “I’m sorry.”

—

“Hey.  Are you okay?”  

You shake yourself out of your fog.  You had been staring at your monitor, unseeing, for the past…half hour it seems.  It takes you a moment to figure out what’s going on.  

Jihoon is standing over you, concern written all over his face.  You sober instantly.  

Right. You are supposed to have lunch with Jihoon today.  

“Yeah, I’m okay.  Sorry.  I guess I’m just distracted.”

“Oh, well, we don’t have to get lunch if you’re busy.”

“No!  No, I’m not busy.  Let’s go.”  You refuse to let all the bullshit get in the way of you doing good for someone who is struggling.  Sure, you’re not having the best time yourself, but doing nice things for someone else makes you feel like you have some control.

Besides, there’s something about Jihoon that resonates with you.  He reminds you of yourself, shy and skittish.  His hesitant concern is something new, though.  It’s nice.  You’re touched that he’d come out of his shell for you.  With a determined smile you escort him out of the department.  “Jieun-unnie has a meeting she can’t get out of, so it’s just you and me.  I hope that’s okay.”  

The truth is, you didn’t want Jieun to have lunch with you.  You made up an excuse, saying you didn’t want to intimidate Jihoon with too many people.  You wanted to have lunch with him alone so he’d be comfortable.  She readily accepted your excuse, which made you feel a little guilty.  You wanted to turn to your unnie for comfort and advice, but she was too closely involved with your fears and doubts.  And she had admitted to Hoseok that she let you in on Rule Five.  You could no longer trust that she wouldn’t relay everything you tell her to the members.

You can’t tell what Jihoon is looking for as he glances around the office, uncomfortably.  “Yeah, that’s fine, Y/N-ssi.”

You stand and flash him your best smile.  “Let’s go out.  I heard there’s this place within walking distance that does a mean sundubu jjigae.”

You knew leaving the office would be a good idea because Jihoon relaxes as you make your way out of the building.  You don’t know what about Hybe stresses Jihoon out, but he really doesn’t like to be noticed here.  A little selfishly, you’re also trying to avoid Bang PD-nim.  Hoseok must have talked to him already because you saw Bang PD-nim headed your way this morning.  In a panic, you immediately picked up your phone and moved up a work call so you could look busy.  You murmured an apology with a promise to meet up with him when you had the time.  

You don’t want to be held hostage in that condo with BTS.  You don’t want to lose this bit of freedom you have.  Something is going on and you’ll never figure it out if they never let you out again.  The members keep talking about some plan and a truth, some big secret they’re hiding.  You’re not supposed to hang out with Jieun or Areum.  Hobi doesn’t want you working.  Whatever you have with Jin will never come to fruition.  You so want to at least believe in Tae, in the members who seemed to speak up for you, but they weren’t exactly forthcoming.  And all the trust that’s been built so far has cascaded down like a house of cards.  

The commute to work this morning was agony for you as you smiled and laughed and teased like there was nothing wrong.

None of this makes sense to you.  Wild theories have been pinballing in your head.  If they’re lying, why would you be here with BTS?  Did they do something to you?  Was the sasaeng attack even real?  Are they holding you hostage and gaslighting the hell out of you so you don’t sue them?  

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

That’s right.  Jihoon.  Just focus on this moment.  Have a breakdown later.

You’re sat at a table in a quiet corner and you’re once again the focus of his concern.  “You said they have good sundubu jjigae so I ordered two for us since you seem distracted.”

You loosen the hold you have on your blouse and stretch your fingers, folding your hands on the table.  “Thank you.  Sorry.  I’m just–I don’t know.  There’s a lot going on right now, but I do want to be here,” you say.  This isn’t how you wanted lunch to go.  You’re fucking it all up.

Jihoon looks at your hands and then searches your face.  “Do you wanna talk about it?  I’m not trying to pry,” he hurriedly assures, “but if it’s bothering you so much, maybe you need to tell someone.  I’m not sure I can help, but I can listen, if you want.”

In this setting, away from everything, Jihoon looks more confident.  You realize he’s taller than you thought.  His posture is more self-assured.  It’s a good look on him even if it pains you that the roles have seemed to reverse.  Instead of helping him, he’s trying to help you.  

Would telling him everything be bad?  This whole thing is one big conspiracy theory and you don’t know who you can trust anymore.  You don’t even know if you can even trust yourself, but maybe you can have this.  A friend away from it all.  

“I, uh, I don’t know how I got to Korea, or why I’m here.”  Jihoon’s eyes widen a fraction.  Okay, so you just said that out loud.  You wait for him to bail, to react in some way, but he doesn’t say anything.  He waits for you to continue.

Slightly encouraged, you elaborate.  “I, uh, woke up here like two weeks ago?  And I have no memory of how I got here, or what I’m doing here.  I’m American and I don’t know BTS except for their music.  But they told me I lost my memory and that I’m actually Korean.  That I’m an orphan and I have no one.  And I don’t know if this is a dream or if this is real.  I don’t know if all of this is a figment of my imagination, and I think I’m going crazy.”

Yup.  So you said all that.  To a complete stranger.  Who now probably thinks that you’re nuts.  Wacko.  A complete lunatic.  What is wrong with—

“Not to be a pretentious asshole, but dreams or reality, isn’t all of that just a figment of our imagination?  Whatever our mind chooses to perceive?” Jihoon asks, shrugging.  “I think I’m real.  I feel real.  I have real feelings.  My own thoughts.  I don’t know what I can do to convince your brain that I’m real though. Maybe I should pinch you?”

He considers your forearms, and you’re taken aback, instinctively pulling your arms away from the table, but then he snickers, “I’m joking.  I’m not gonna pinch you.”

And it’s so ridiculous that you laugh.  You laugh until your eyes start watering, and you wipe them before they can fall.  You refuse to cry on top of everything else right now.  

Jihoon looks like he wants to comfort you, but doesn’t know how and it lifts your spirits a little, grateful for the levity.  “Thank you.  I needed that laugh.”

“I’m glad.  Thank you for being so nice to me, for getting me lunch.”

“You know, people at Hybe seem nice too.”

“I–” Jihoon hesitates, his eyes darting to his cutlery.  “I guess it’s only fair that I share some stuff with you too.” 

You lean forward, his uneasiness affecting you.

“I don’t feel welcome at Hybe,” he confesses.

“What?  Really?  Are people bullying or hazing you?”

“No, Y/N-ssi.  It’s just a feeling I get.  That people don’t want me there.  A reluctance.  No one has done anything to me, but it feels hostile.  I’d quit, but the money and benefits are nice.  On the other hand, I don’t know why they don’t just fire me, honestly.”

“Because you’re a good worker, Jihoon-ssi.  If they fired you, I would definitely have something to say about that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t know what?”

“That I’m a good worker,” he says with a lifted brow.  

Eh, what dignity do you have left?  “Not to sound like a creep, but I do notice you around the office.  You get things done fast and efficiently.  Sometimes, I’ll see you and think I should say hi, but by the time I finish my task, you’re already done and gone.”  

“You notice me?” he asks, disbelieving.  

“Yeah.  You’re nice.”

Jihoon’s smile is shy and his eyes crinkle like they’re not used to it, but so so want to.  He often makes himself small, nondescript, but here he blooms and gently takes up space.  You’re pleased to see him coming out of his shell.  You wanna ask about his food situation, but there’s this thing called ‘saving face’ that you don’t want to step on.  You also especially don’t want him to retreat within himself.  

“Jihoon-ssi.  What year were you born?”

“95.”  He tilts his head, confused by this sudden change in direction.

“Then we’re the same age.  If you could address me comfortably, I would like to be friends.”

“Oh.”  He looks like he could have never predicted this.  You’re suddenly hit with that deja vu, finding a similarity in the way Tae allegedly adopted you and how you’re now adopting Jihoon, but you quickly chase that feeling away.  You can’t trust it.  Instead, you smile reassuringly at Jihoon, who eventually returns it.  “Sure, Y/N.  Let’s be friends.”

The food is served and you spend the rest of the time talking about inconsequential things: the music you’ve been listening to, his cat, Miro, your poor cooking skills, and how he’s patiently waiting for Minho to return to Shinee after enlistment.

“Is it rude to ask when you enlist?” you inquire.

Jinhoon shakes his head.  “I already enlisted in 2018.  I’m done now.”

“Was it hard?”

“Not really.  I like working out, so it just felt like one long session at the gym.”

“Still, it must have sucked not being able to see your family as much.”

He balks and you immediately apologize.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t have commented on something so personal.”

“No, that’s alright.  Um.  I do miss my family.  My parents died back in 2016.  Four years later and the hurt still feels fresh any time I think about them.  It’s a good hurt sometimes, but it still hurts.”

“You don’t have any other family?  Siblings?  Cousins?”  You know you’re being a bit invasive, but you want to know what sort of support system he has.  

“I have a half sister.  My mother married an American soldier and moved to America, but she missed Korea, so she moved back and remarried my dad.  It was a bit of a scandal, so both their families sort of ignored us.”

“That’s awful.”  

Jihoon shrugs, dismissing all of it as something in the past.

“Are you close with your half sister?”

“Kind of.  She’s the only family I have left and I’m looking for her actually.  I know she’s somewhere here in Korea, but I lost track of her.  I don’t have any money to hire an investigator to find her, so I’ve been trying to do it on my time off.”

An idea suddenly sparks in your head.  “Maybe we can help each other.”

Jihoon is wary.  “How?”

“I’ve actually been trying to find a file at Hybe, but I’m denied access at every turn.  BTS told me that I was attacked by a sasaeng ex-employee.  Kim Cho-hee.  I don’t know if it's a lie or if the file even exists.  As maintenance, you’re allowed access everywhere and you’re discreet.  If you could find me a physical or digital copy, it would provide me with some answers that I think I really need.  And in return, I can help you fund the private investigator.  I’ll pay for all the fees.”

Jihoon looks shocked as he processes your proposal.  “You’d really do that for me?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“But, you don’t even know me.”

“I know that I can’t do this alone,” you say resolutely.  “And without you, I’m alone.”

His expression softens in understanding.  “Yeah.  I’m alone too.”

“Then let's not do this alone.  Let's help each other.”  You muster all the sincerity you have and hope your desperation isn’t offputting.  If Jihoon refuses, you’ll be back at square zero with no lifeline.  

Honestly, Jihoon is perfect.  He is so far removed from everything.  Everyone barely notices him, regardless if he thinks people don’t like him.  In fact, if people at Hybe don’t like him, that makes you trust him even more.  The only connection he has to Hybe is as employer and employee.  He’s not embroiled in the politics and the gossip except for the snack thing, but you can easily fix that by feeding him.  You acknowledge that you’re kind of using him, but this will be a mutually beneficial relationship.  You can help him find his sister and you do truly want to be friends with him.  This isn’t the most auspicious start, but it’s the best you’ve got right now.

“Please, Jihoon.”

He fiddles with a napkin, but nods his head.  “Okay.  Let’s find out what’s real.  When do we start?”

You hand him your black card.  

—

You don’t stop by Bang PD-nim’s office before the end of the day.  You refuse to be pushed out of the only normalcy you have, the only contact you have with the outside world.  You know you can’t avoid him forever, but you’re going to try your best.  

On your commute home with BTS, Jimin invites you over for dinner and games, but you feign a headache.  You’re suddenly bombarded in the groupchat by all of BTS insisting that they come over to see you.  You take a picture of your leftover sundubu jjigae and tell them you’re fine.  You’ll eat dinner and then head to bed to sleep it off.  Jungkook suggests rescheduling hanging out tomorrow so you can rest, and you almost take him up on the offer.  Instead, you reassure him that you’re still on for tomorrow.  

You can’t avoid BTS.  They can’t know that anything is wrong, that you heard everything they said last night.  And you have to make appearances so they can’t use your health as a reason to pull you from work.  You’re allowing yourself to have this time.  You are just going to take a little break, to gather some strength to face them.  It seems like they know all of your idiosyncrasies, so you’ll have to turn up your acting skills.  

Well, you thought you were going to take a break.  You’re washing the dishes, making a mental note to remember to make a key for the cleaning ajumma, when someone knocks on your door.  It really was too much to expect them to give you space.  You brace yourself and answer the door.

You’re not surprised to see Jin standing there, book in hand.  You put on your warmest smile.  “I’m really okay.  You didn’t have to come.”

“I wanted to,” Jin says.  He brushes your hair from your face and you hold in a flinch.  A twinge must have shown because his brows furrow, worried.  “That headache must be a doozy.  Was work stressful today?”

You’re relieved.  He believes your excuse about the headache, but you don’t want to blame work.  “I think I was just listening to my music too loud.  I should turn it down before I get tinnitus.”

Jin grins.  “Yeah, that would be a good idea.”

You both stand there awkwardly and Jin doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave, so you’re forced to open the door wider to let him in.  He removes his shoes and you follow him to your room.  He drops onto the bed and pats the space next to him.  You don’t know what he’s trying to do, but you orchestrate your face to be open and curious.

“What’s up?” you ask.  You remind yourself not to nervously thumb the hem of your shirt.  You take it a step further and tell yourself not to fidget your hands.  Like a cut marionette, your arms hang at your sides.  You start overthinking your body language, unsure if your angles are natural, but you shouldn’t cross your arms like you want to.  Crossed arms means closed off.  Open arms means everything is okay.

“I figured with a headache, it’d be hard to sleep,” Jin explains.  “Music and TV don’t seem like good options, so I’ll read to you until you fall asleep.”

You could fight him on this, but you know Jin will persist.  You don’t want to raise too many red flags.  You might also be ignoring that you don’t actually want to fight this, that you do want him here, despite everything.  Jin suspects nothing, his expression hopeful and fond and just so happy to be here with you.  It’s difficult to refuse him anything when he looks like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.  You are conflicted between your mistrust and being drawn to him like a moth to a flame.  

“Um, I’m gonna go get ready and then I’ll be right back,” you say nervously.  You dig out some modest sleepwear and head to the bathroom.  You’re on autopilot with your routine.  Be strong, Y/N.  Don’t give in too much.  You have to protect yourself.  

Jin is sitting against the headboard, book in hand.  You avoid his eyes and get into bed.  You sort of tuck yourself in so there’s a bit of a blanket barrier between you and him, but you roll on your side and face him.  You can sense his obvious amusement.

“Comfy?” he asks.

“Yup.  So what’s on the agenda?”  

Unbidden, you think, Jin doesn’t like to read.  He’ll read a page at a time if he does read, and he rarely reads for pleasure unless it’s an assignment of some sort.  You can’t tell if this is knowledge you already know, if you observed this in the weeks you’ve been here, or if it’s just something you inherently know.

“I don’t have much of a selection, so I picked whatever I could find in my room.  Tonight, we’ve got ‘The Remasculization of Korean Cinema: Culture, Politics & Society’,” he presents with dramatic flare.

You scrunch your nose.  If Jin reads that, you really will get a headache.

He of course notices and laughs.  “On second thought, this might not have been the best idea.”

“It was the best of intentions though.”

“I’ll see if Joon has anything lighter,” Jin says, turning over the book in disappointment.

“Why don’t you just tell me a story?”  The words leave your lips without your say so.  He glances at you in surprise.  

“What kind of story do you want?”

You scootch further under the duvet, only your eyes showing.  “Jieun-unnie said you were in love.”

Jin’s breath catches.  

“But you don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” you murmur.  Even with Jin being here, you have decided to put all your feelings into the box of lost things, which you intend to seal away and ignore.  Nothing is going to happen.  Nothing can ever happen with Jin.  So call this self-flagellation or morbid curiosity, but you just want to know.

“Why do you want to know about her?” he asks carefully.

You shrug.  “I wanna know what love looks like to you.”

Jin’s face softens.  He takes a deep breath and sets his book aside on the nightstand.  

“Hmm. People, movies and songs always talk about these dramatic moments.  Being struck by how beautiful someone is like lightning.  Jungkook with his ringing bells.  Tae with his red string of fate and soulmates.  But it wasn’t like that for me.  It was quiet.  Sneaky.  Like standing on the beach and not realizing that the tide is steadily rising.

“She was just someone who was around.  Someone I would see in passing.  Our schedules rarely matched up, so our interactions were incidental.  We never paid each other any mind.  We were too focused on our jobs.  Besides, she wasn’t very outgoing.  She was introverted.  Aloof.  Seemingly unruffled.  But I’d see the way she interacted with the people she was close to.  I’d wonder how someone so intimidating, who seemed so distant in the day to day, could suddenly be so comfortably silly and fearlessly weird with her people.  It’s something idols and celebrities work so hard to make seem effortless.  

“Actually, that’s the best word to describe her.  Effortless.  She wasn’t contrived.  Wasn’t polished, primped, and packaged.  Just naturally effortless.  

“Now, maybe I’m just an asshole, but it made me want to ruffle her up.  Rock her boat a bit just to see what she’d do.  I wanted to know what made her tick.  What songs she cried to.  What books she gave a second thought to.  What code she lived by.  

“I started off small.  I’d steal a pen off her desk.  She’d buy a one hundred pack of G2 pens with a sticky note that anyone was welcome to them.  I’d put googily eyed stickers on her glasses.  She’d stick the goggily eyes on plants around the office.  I’d anonymously rickroll her through email attachments.  She’d reply that my resume was outdated and kindly attached a better resume template, only to rickroll me back.  

“I upped my game.  I’d replace her corner mart bought gimbap with homemade gimbap.  She’d leave me tasty baked goods.  I’d leave her a mixed CD.  She’d leave me a mixed audio cassette.  I’d buy her mittens.  She’d leave me a scarf.  

“And then suddenly, it wasn’t enough.  I had to come by to poke and prod her with words.  I’d tell her she’s pretty.  She’d tell me I’m handsome.  I’d tell her she’s weird.  She’d tell me I’m obnoxious.  I tried to pull her into arguments, but wasn’t really successful until I lied and told her I don’t wear sunscreen when it’s cloudy.  She subjected me to a ten minute tirade about the science of UV rays and I loved it.”  

Jin had steadily grown distant as he went back in time, but he refocuses on you.  His words, the quirk of his lips, the twinkle in his eye had coaxed you out of your duvet cocoon.  You smile encouragingly.

“I don’t even know when annoying her became harmless flirting and then transformed into full blown conversations about kdrama tropes, rating local hole in the walls, and confessions of hopes and dreams.  Before I knew it, she was someone who became the one.  The one I wanted to see everyday.  The one I wanted to share my stories with.  The one who I wanted in my stories.  

“And I thought she was completely oblivious.  We always saw each other in passing or we were always with everyone else, but I really wanted to be alone with her.  I wanted her to only look at me.  

“It all came to a head when all of us bought tickets to go see Passengers.  You know, that Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence movie?  We were all gonna catch dinner and then go see the movie, but I convinced the dongsaengs to skip out.  I took her to one of my favorite restaurants, and I had to pretend to go to the bathroom so I could pay before she could insist on splitting the bill.  We went to see the movie, but I honestly couldn’t tell you what it’s about.  I couldn’t stop watching her.  And whenever she’d catch me, I’d lean in and make a joke, I don’t even remember what, but just something so she wouldn’t suspect.  I wanted her to know how I felt, but I was also terrified of her knowing.”

The way he talks about her, about himself, it feels soft and shimmery like ocean foam, an airy wisp on a reminiscent breeze, and it stirs a longing in you.  Captivates you.

“When we left the theater, she spotted the maknaes.  They saw us coming and tried to hide, but the hilarious thing was, they hid behind cutouts.  Of themselves, advertising a fanmeeting coming up.  A truly slap yourself in the face moment that I couldn’t even appreciate at the time because Tae was busy selling me out, whining that they didn’t want to intrude on our date, but they also didn’t wanna waste their movie tickets.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays your affection.  “What a bunch of idiots.”

“But they’re our idiots,” Jin says fondly.  His smile is small, but it’s a smile you haven’t seen before, like how you can only see Venus right before dawn or just after sunset.  A smile that is only reserved for special circumstances to align, and you stare unblinkingly, not wanting to miss it for a second because you don’t know when you’ll ever find the chance again.  

“I had to drag her away from those idiots.  And she kept trying to pull away, but I couldn’t let her go cuz’ I was trying to muster up my courage.  I dragged her four blocks before I had the nerve to face her.  Before I confessed that yes, that was a date.  That I liked her.  That I loved her.  And you know what she said?”

You hum.  

“She said, ‘I love you too.  But I dropped my glasses back there.’”

You splutter and burst into giggles in concert with Jin’s windshield wiping.  Jin hiccups, “We had to run back those four blocks to find her glasses before I could have my first kiss with her.”  

“You are also an idiot, Jin,” you snort.

“I know, I know.  Not my smoothest moment,” Jin concedes, elbowing you.  “And it wasn’t smooth sailing from there either.  Our schedules still didn’t align the way we wanted it to.  I would be tired and worn out.  She would be busy and frayed.  But we still made it work.  We’d fall asleep together over video calls.  I’d send her flowers and she’d have food delivered to me.  She’d surprise me at concerts.  I’d surprise her at conferences.  We had to steal our moments.   But it was the happiest I’d ever been.  I like to think she was happy too.”

Jin grows silent.  Something in him fades as he picks at your duvet, agitated.  You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, stilling him.  “What happened?” you whisper.  “Why did it stop?”

You know you shouldn’t be asking this.  You’re mentally slapping yourself for making Jin relive this knowing this doesn’t have a happy ending.  But you can’t stop yourself.  You have to reach the end.  You have to read the last page so you can close the book.  He stares at your hands and then…

Softly.  Bitterly.  With self-loathing, he says, “She became a victim of my industry.”

It’s vague, but there’s a finality that you dare not stir.  

Storytime is over.  

You want to apologize, but you know that won’t make things better.  In a way, it feels like you both needed this.  A cathartic release, but something’s missing.  You rub your thumb against Jin’s hand, trying to convey some comfort.  “She sounds lovely.”

“She is.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Debatable,” he huffs in scorn.  

“Hey.”  You tug his hand so he’ll look at you.  His expression is stone, eyes dark when he finally meets yours.  You infuse every fiber of your being with earnesty.  “She sounds lovely.  Don’t retroactively deprive her of her autonomy.  Of her choices.  It wasn’t your fault.”

The stone cracks a bit, a tremulous smile playing on his lips, not quite accepting, but you think he heard you.  

You lightly squeeze his hand in yours.  “It’s getting late.  You should go to bed.”

When you try to remove your hand though, he doesn’t let go.  “Can I stay here?  At least until you fall asleep?”

He plays it like he’s doing this for you, but there’s an open vulnerability and loneliness in the way he’s looking at you.  Is this what Hobi meant when he said Jin had a lot of baggage?  You don’t quite feel devastated, but this isn’t baggage.  It’s a piece of history, and you find some small comfort that if your illness is in fact real, at least it’s your affliction, not Jin’s.  At least he isn’t forced to relive his history.  

“Sure, Jin.  Always.” 

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Hobi is much more subdued than he’s publicly known to be.  He listens to the stories, but rarely cares to give any input, content to observe without having to be ‘on’. 

Yoongi is much more engaging with witty zingers and comebacks and is smugly pleased when they’re acknowledged. 

Jimin drinks the most, but he’s still somehow the most focused, his ears picking up on anything of interest with an immediate comment or opinion. 

Namjoon tends to ramble about topics related to his latest hyperfixations, but he never forgets about his listeners, prompting them with well thought out questions that make it possible to contribute to the conversation even with limited knowledge. 

Jin is a mediator who is quick to redirect any potential arguments onto a new harmonious topic when he’s not the one initiating arguments himself. 

Tae is the loudest and most animated, rarely staying in his seat in his need to reenact anything and everything with little encouragement and much doting by the boys. 

Jungkook is a little bean doing his best to focus on eating like the growing boy he is, but the hyungs prod him to join them, splitting his attention so he loses track of his food and his train of thought as he does his best to please and respect everyone.

Jungkook’s distraction is advantageous to you.  In the beginning, you felt like a guest at a red carpet event, but you slowly relaxed due to the subtle ways the boys take care of you.  You catch each of them glancing at you every now and then to make sure you’re okay.  Your water is bottomless.  And your plate is never empty.  Even after you declined a fourth helping, the crispiest, sauciest pieces of chicken still make their way to your plate and you’re helpless to refuse this form of affection.  Instead, you’ve decided to enact some tomfoolery of your own.

Every time Jungkook looks away from his plate, you discreetly place your portion onto his.  He didn’t notice anything hinky in the first half hour, but Jin, sitting next to you, caught on to your game and has been shoveling chicken onto your plate providing you with more ammo.  Kookie is now carefully examining his neverending plate of chicken, head tilted in confusion.  You repress your urge to coo because you swear if he had bunny ears, they’d be alert and twitchy.  He observes his surroundings in puzzlement, and you and Jin are quick to engage in a ridiculous argument over what is the optimal amount of time to dip Oreos in milk before eating them.  Kookie shrugs and consumes five more pieces of chicken.  He unabashedly peeks under his shirt through the collar to check that his abs are still there, and with a pained expression, rubs his tummy before Namjoon drags him back into an animated tirade about industrial carbon emissions.  Both you and Jin snicker.  The collective relief that Jungkook hasn’t discovered your shenanigans is interrupted when, out of nowhere, Jimin hijacks your discussion. 

“The optimal time to dip Oreos is how long it takes you to sing the Cookie Monster song!”

He then proceeds to break out into song.

“C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me!

C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me!

C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me!

Oh! Cookie cookie cookie starts with C!

Now, everybody!”

It’s very telling how unphased everyone is by this development as they obediently sing along.  By the third repeat of the song, Jimin is sloshing his stein glass in the air in drunken abandon, Namjoon is conducting everyone with hazardous swishing of hands, Tae and Hobi pretend to chomp and bite our very own Kookie, Jungkook is belting ad libs and vocal runs in his best Cookie Monster impression, Yoongi is cackling while taking blackmail videos, and you and Jin are bellowing along, fondly surveying the monsters you unintentionally created.

The song reaches a practiced conclusion in perfect unison when Namjoon pinches his hands with a flourish that almost smashes an alarmed Yoongi in the face, but Yoongi manages to dodge.  Everyone cheers the success of our impromptu concert, and Jungkook excitedly asks where the cookies are, disappointed when he is informed that there are none despite already being overstuffed as your unwitting food disposal.

Jimin does a lap around the table, refilling everyone’s beer.  You are obviously skipped.   You were never even offered any to begin with because of Rule Two.  Though you are deprived of Dionysus’ nectar, you still clink your glass with the boys.  Jin declines to meet your accusatory gaze, suddenly finding his chopsticks to be very interesting as you pointedly sip your water.   

“She didn’t!” Hobi exclaims, drawing everyone’s attention.

Tae waves his phone and crows, “I got it all on video!”  

You groan as Tae regales the table with your afternoon.  You, Jimin, and Tae stopped by a tteokboki pojangmacha where a cat kept trying to get into the fishcakes.  There was enthusiastic petting of the cat until it pulled out the yarn on your t-shirt and that’s why your shirt now reads 'Lo we' instead of 'Loewe'.  You wouldn’t have cared otherwise, but the shirt wasn’t yours.  Tae insisted on dressing you in his shirt this morning to match his 'vibes', so you insisted on replacing Tae’s shirt.

Jimin jumps in, gleefully.  “She looks up the shirt on Naver and you could literally watch the blood drain from her face!  And then she starts chasing the cat and begs for the yarn back, yelling like a maniac that she’ll trade it for her tteokboki!”  You stay seated, arms crossed, refusing to join their huddle when the boys crowd around Tae for the video proof.  

They erupt into mayhem at your recorded antics and you try to justify your desperate feline chase. “Who lets someone casually borrow a ₩1,000,000 shirt?!  That’s 700 American Green!!!  That string alone was probably worth ₩200,000!!!” 

This only renews their laughter, prompting you to retreat to the kitchen in embarrassment, their good natured teasing following you.  In truth, you don’t mind their joy at your expense.  You’re just thankful you have a black card to buy Tae a new shirt even as your middle-class sensibilities balk at the price.

You begin washing the dishes and everyone trickles over with plates, platters, and glasses.  Hobi tries to wrestle the chore away from you, but you insist.  He only concedes because Jin says he’ll help dry.  Someone turns on the TV and a heated debate commences over what to watch.  

As Jin readies a dish towel next to you, a glint in your peripheral draws your attention.  There’s a ring on his right pinkie, a silver band with a pink pin-sized gem inlaid.  As far as you know, he doesn’t often wear rings.  You indicate his hand with your chin.  “I like the pink.”  

Jin stiffens and pauses.  It’s a long enough pause that you worry you said something wrong and begin to mentally backtrack.  He regards with an indecipherable look and raises his hand so you can both admire it unhindered.  “I’ve been told pink suits me.”

You expect him to follow up with a joke or monologue, something along the lines of how pink personified should be grateful for having been picked by Jin before all other colors to grace his fingers, but he doesn’t do anything of the sort.  He’s fixed a smile on his face, but it looks practiced, like some cheap thing he’d throw as fan service, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.  The congenial air surrounding you has tangled into something awkward, so your mind scrambles to latch onto any new topic you can throw out. "So, how did I meet you all?"

It’s the right move.  The stiffness in his shoulders softens and his smile morphs into something sweet, grateful.  He clears his throat and his tone brightens as he reminisces.  Within you, a well of fondness overflows as he becomes increasingly animated in his storytelling.  “Well, you met Taehyung first, and he changes the story every time he’s asked.  The first time we asked, he said he found you near death in the jungle.  You ran away from home after your father died in a horrific wildebeest stampede.  The second time we asked, he said you met at summer camp in the States, and due to your uncanny resemblance, realized you were twins separated at birth.”

“Wow.  His creative liberties border on copyright infringement,” you note, wryly. 

Someone giggles behind you and then you hear an, “Ow!”  Whispered rebukes and shushing has you observing the living room where the boys suspiciously pretend to watch TV.  Suspicious because they're watching the Roku screensaver scroll by.

Jin ignores your audience.  “But I sweet talked you into the real story.” 

“Did you now?”

“What can I say?  I’m a charming person.”  He winks at you and your knees buckle, the dish in your hand clattering into the sink.  Fortunately, nothing broke, but you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.  His knowing smirk is both infuriating and sexy.  You rewash the fallen dish, hoping to quickly move past your faux pas.

“So how did Tae and I really meet?”

“Middle school.  It was the very first day and you were minding your own business eating lunch all on your lonesome when suddenly, a smiley monkey boy with big ears sat down next to you and loudly proclaimed that he, an extrovert, was adopting you.  You immediately burst into tears because you thought he was making fun of you for being an orphan.”

This elicits a giggle out of you.  “That's both hilarious and mortifying.  No wonder he tells everyone else a made up story.”

“Eh, I’m pretty sure the dongsaengs have already swindled the real story out of you.  And you stopped playing along with Taehyung’s scheme after he told some newbie interns at the office that he’s your father and they couldn’t marry you without his approval.”

“Sounds par for the course.”  

“Despite the rocky start, you two became good friends.  The both of you kept in touch after Taehyung was recruited to Big Hit.  You finished university here in Seoul and Taehyung got you an interview at the company.  You inevitably met Jimin, and the conjoined duo hogged you in secret until you happened to run into me in the staff break room.  Of course, I bedazzled you and soon you were absorbed into the group.  You haven’t been able to escape since.”

“Escape?”

“Your attempts have been woefully unsuccessful to our benefit.”  

“It sounds like I should be compensated.”

He gestures to his face like a gameshow girl demonstrating the special features of a prize.  “Gazing upon this handsome face should be compensation enough.”  

You scoff, but can’t dispute that, so you let him bask in your silent agreement.  Some time during the banter, the distance between you closed and you’re now standing shoulder to shoulder with him.  He offers you the dishcloth and leans back against the sink, waiting for you.  Wiping your hands, you can count the smattering of pores on his nose.  There are bags under his eyes and baby hairs along his hairline refuse to behave.  His skin is creamy peach and his jaw has the beginnings of stubble.   Dark brown eyes arrest you, trailing a searing heat along your face.  

Someone clears their throat, breaking the spell you’re under.  The boys have disappeared, the lights in the living room dimmed and the television turned off.  Hoseok suddenly appears to take the dish towel from you and somehow wedges himself between you and Jin.  Jin’s jaw clenches, annoyed, as they engage in a weirdly intense staring contest.  Hoseok turns to you.  “Hey, so, we’ve got early dance practice tomorrow.”  Oh.  Is he in dance leader mode?  Maybe that’s the reason why he and Jin are clashing.  “Do you think you’ll be fine alone at home?  Or would you like me or Jimin to stay with you?”  

You would never get in the way of dance practice.  Perish the thought.  “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Our cleaning ajumma will be by around 1400.  You can stay here the whole day if you want, but you probably shouldn't wander around Seoul without one of us with you.  We have all the TV apps and snacks, so help yourself.  The Samanco fish ice cream you like is in the freezer.”

You love Samanco ice cream, but the boys knowing you love it is tripping you out.  It makes you wonder what other details they know about you that are just a given.  “Okay.  Thanks, Hobi-oppa.”  

“You wanna sleep here or at home?”

You hesitate, glancing at Jin who is also waiting for your answer.  You don’t want to put him out, but cold unease washes through you at the thought of waking up alone.  You anxiously tug at the hem of your shirt.  What if you wake up and you lose your memories again?  Another voice in your head asks what if you wake up and this was all a dream?

Jin is eyeing the hem of your shirt with concern.  Feeling like you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to, you force yourself to stop fidgeting.  “Um, I'll sleep here?” you say, unsure.

“Alright,” Hobi says, grabbing your hands and squeezing them.  “Why don’t you sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch?” 

Jin scoffs, stealing one of your hands from Hobi’s.  “I’ve found the perfect formula for sleeping on that couch.  None of us need a grouchy dance leader tomorrow.  Y/N will sleep in my bed.”

Jin looms over Hoseok, but Hoseok stands his ground.  You’re not quite sure how you became a ragdoll caught in a tug of war.  It almost seems like they’ve forgotten that you’re standing there, but their grip on you says otherwise.  You were all having a good time not that long ago and you have no idea where all this antagonism is coming from, but it feels off.   Whatever is going on between the two of them can probably be resolved with sleep or at least be put on hold.  

“That’s enough, you two.”  You reclaim your hands, which snaps their attention back to you.  “It’s getting late, and you just said you have dance practice tomorrow.  I’ll sleep in Jin’s bed.”

Hoseok looks reluctant, but he accepts your decision, gently directing you towards the hall.  He addresses Jin, tightly.  "Jin-hyung.  Wanna help me with the sticky notes?”  

Jin narrows his eyes, but he simply nods his assent.  You barely leave the room before heated whispers spark behind you.  Exasperated, there’s a part of you that wants to march right back in there to drag them to bed by the ears.  Another part of you wants to linger and eavesdrop, but none of it is your business, even if you suspect their argument has something to do with you.  Is it conceited of you to think so?  

Sighing, you continue on your way, passing the labeled doorways.  It’s unbelievable what’s all happened in one day.  From the moment you opened your eyes, everything you thought you knew had been challenged until you admitted defeat, forced to accept this new reality.  How are you even still standing?

The wall of mental and emotional exhaustion has you zoning out as you perform your nightly ritual.  Offhandedly, you note that the skin care products Jin has are the same brands as the ones in your apartment.  You hear Jin enter the bedroom, making his way to the walk-in closet as you brush your teeth.  After rinsing your mouth, you switch places so you can change into your pajamas and he can brush his.  You pick out shorts and a tank top.  You are one hundred percent wearing clothes to bed tonight.  

By the time you’re done changing, Jin is gone.  You’re disappointed you didn’t get a chance to say goodnight.  Should you go to the living room and tell him?  Torn, you worry your lip with your teeth for a minute, but ultimately decide not to.  It’s not like you said goodnight to the other guys.  You’re just being silly.  

You had made the bed earlier, before the shopping excursion.  Well, you essentially made the bed with the exception that the Maplestory plushies had been unceremoniously piled on in no specific order.  Too tired to do anything about it now, you crawl amid the soft, squishy community and throw the sheets over yourself.  You lay in the dark and watch city lights dance on the ceiling.  You forgot to close the drapes, but you're confident the bone deep wariness will lull you to sleep anyway.

Sleep doesn’t come though.  You deepen your breathes and will yourself to sleep, but your eyes refuse to shut.  You toss and turn, feeling too warm, your body sweating.  The expensive sheets feel like sandpaper, and it threateningly agitates your skin.  Skin that feels stretched tight like the surface of an overfilled balloon.  You carefully sit up, hugging your knees.  The room is too big, cavernous.  The quiet of the room is too quiet.  All the oxygen has been sucked out of the room and you labor for breath.  

There’s a buzzing in your brain that refuses to shut off, an undercurrent of doubt and worry that grips you like a piece of plastic rubbish that statically clings to your hand, refusing to relinquish its hold on your skin no matter how hard you try to pick, rub, or shake it off.  You’re worried that you’ll forget everything again tomorrow.  That as soon as you close your eyes, who you are, right now, will disappear.  You try to reassure yourself that it’s unlikely.  Jimin and Tae had told you that your resets weren’t a daily thing.  But then you remember Hobi had asked Jin to help him with the sticky notes.  It wasn’t a guarantee that you’d reset tomorrow, but they obviously thought it was a possibility.  You begin to spiral, trapped on a carousel of What if you don’t wake up in this room? What if you wake up somewhere else, except this time, no one knows you?  What if you find yourself alone?  

This is why you need music to fall asleep.  You need lyrics to focus on and melodies to drown out your intrusive thoughts.  You left your phone back at your apartment though and you don’t know the password to Jin’s computer.  

With no way to relieve yourself, you could use something like a hug right about now, but everyone is asleep.  You could wake them.  You tell yourself that Tae and Jimin would love cuddles.  Jungkook would probably make you hot chocolate and Yoongi would make you tea.  Namjoon would distract you with useful knowledge.  And Hobi or Jin would keep you company.  But the words “dance practice” in bold red letters stamp itself over the idea.  You don’t want to be a bother.  Everyone is already doing so much for you and you couldn’t bear to be more of a burden.  If you get to be too much, they’ll shy away.  Their responses to your texts and calls will get fewer and far in between.  They’ll make excuses not to see you until slowly, they phase you out.  You would deserve it because you’re sure you’re a chore to deal with.  So don’t get too comfortable.  Be grateful for what they’re giving you now, and when they inevitably leave, accept it gracefully.  In fact, it’d probably be best to leave before they get sick of you, right?  Tears wet your face and you try to muffle your hiccups in the circle of your arms.

“Y/N?”  

You didn’t notice Jin come in.  Hoping it’s too dark for him to notice your tears, you tell his silhouette hovering by the door, “You should be sleeping.”  

You hide your face a second too late as he steps closer to the bed, and he breathes, “Oh, jagi.”  

His tender tone has you crumpling like a wet napkin.  You can no longer hold back your sobs.  He sits and gathers you into his arms.  He strokes your hair and softly hums a familiar tune, the purring vibrations soothing you. 

When your tears dwindle, Jin shifts away.  You try to compose yourself so he can go back to bed.  You already feel guilty, silently berating yourself for holding him hostage, but instead, he rearranges you both so that he's lying down with you cocooned to his side.  Euphoric relief washes over you that he isn’t leaving and it makes you want to cry again.  He pushes back your hair, drenched in tears and sweat and brushes your cheek.  Embarrassed, you shove your face into the crook of his neck.

“Hey, now.  Look at me.”  He doesn’t say more.  Simply waits.  You debate pretending to fall asleep, ashamed that he witnessed your breakdown, but you slowly meet his eyes.  “There’s my beautiful girl.”

You grimace, self-conscious.  You can literally feel your damp sweaty shirt plastered to your back.  “I’m gross.”

“There’s my gross girl,” he revises, chuckling as you scrunch your face, stunned.  He smooths the furrow in your brow with his thumb.  “You wanna talk about it?”

You clutch his shirt tightly at his proposal.  Words have power.  You rarely voice your fears.  Speak and it shall come to pass and all that.   You prefer to shove your fears into the darkest corners of your mind and hope they’ll get lost in the void rather than breathing life into them.  

“Okay, how about I do the talking?” Jin amends.  You’re not sure that’s any better and squirm.  He pulls you closer, intertwining your legs, essentially trapping you.  His smile is fond as you surrender and not so stealthily snuggle in closer to use his warmth as a shield.  “Let’s see.  You were thinking what if you fall asleep and forget everything again?  Or what if you wake up and you’re all alone?  What if you find out that everything is an illusion and you’re just floating somewhere in the dark, endlessly unmoored?”

Your breath catches as he precisely pulls your fears out like splinters, the jagged edges of them leaving open wounds. 

“You were thinking you’re all alone.  That you’re a burden and no one will want you.  That it’s better for you to leave than to wait to be left behind.”  

How does he know?  How did he find his way into the mired bog of your subconscious?  How is he not disgusted by your shame and frailty?  Exposed in the moonlight, your demons poise uncertainly in the dark.  

"...we've done this before?” you ask, weakly.  The idea pains you.  How many times has he needed to pull you back from the edge?  How many times have you inconvenienced him?

"We've done this before,” he acknowledges.  The edge of his jaw sets as he deliberates his next words.  “I can’t tell you that you won’t forget all of this again, but I can tell you that you’ll never be alone.  I’ll always be here when you wake up.  I’ll always be here to tell you when your brain is lying to you and to hold your hand.  It will always be my privilege to put you back together again when you fall apart.”

He flashes a cheeky smile.  “Didn’t I tell you before?  There’s no escaping.  The dongsaengs and I will be here to annoy you for life.”

Jin’s conviction shackles your demons in serrated steel.  They’re still there, but they don’t seem so menacing anymore.  He didn’t dismiss your demons, as in he didn’t belittle them or banish them.  You’re not sure anyone could, but he captured your demons in a way that should they desire to torment you again, they’ll have to tear themselves apart first.  

Your mind clears and you feel lighter.  The room is cozy and the quiet is peaceful with the distant snoring of Namjoon, soft rushing of air through the ventilation and muffled traffic outside.  You suddenly feel foolish.  “I’m sorry.”

Jin pokes you.  “None of that.  You’ve been coping so well all on your own today.  You’re brave and strong, but you can let me be strong for you now.  Everything is scary and strange and sudden, so you’re allowed to cry and you’re allowed to be angry and you’re allowed to feel all your other feelings.  They’re valid."  Your nose scrunches when he boops it.  "But I’ll never let you lie to yourself.  You’re not alone and I’m right here.”

You bite your lip, considering.  “Did my crying wake you up?”

“No.  I just knew you needed me.”

“How?”

He tugs your collar.  “You did the shirt tugging thing."

Jin says it so matter of factly, like it explains everything, and it does.  It really clicks for you now, like puzzle pieces fitting together.  “You know me,” you say in wonderment.

He grins.  “I told you so, didn’t I?”  

You avert your gaze, picking at the lint on his shirt.  He lets you for a bit, observing, before he stops your hand and intertwines your fingers in his.  “What’s up?” he prods.

“What do you mean?”

He squeezes your hand.  “You’re tugging at my shirt now.”

“Oh.”  You waffle a bit, inexperienced in voicing your anxieties, but he had just demonstrated that he could handle whatever was swirling inside you.  Haltingly, you confess, “I was just thinking that you know me, but I don’t know you and it made me sad.”

He hums.  “Hmm.  Well, that’s okay.  You can get to know me.”

“But I’ll just forget again,” you say, bitterly.

“And that’s okay too because you already know the most important thing about me.”

“I do?”

He doesn’t answer you, his silence encouraging you to work it out on your own.  Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness and his face is open and patient.  His breathing is helping you pace your breathing.  His heartbeat is calming your heartbeat.  His body, solid against yours, grounds you, anchoring you in this space and moment.  His strength gives you strength.  

The answer comes to you.  It isn’t flashy.  It isn’t dramatically revealed, or abruptly discovered.  It’s tightly weaved into the very foundation you’re standing on.  All you had to do was take a step back to see it.  “You’re my best friend.”

His face lights up with the lumens of a thousand stars, and you know you gave the right answer because this must surely be your reward.

“That’s right.  I’m your best friend.”  

He kisses your forehead and you snuggle into him.  “Thank you, Jin.”

“Always,” he breathes like a prayer.

Your eyes start to droop.  At peace, you finally feel safe enough to fall asleep.  “Hey, Jin?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m your best friend too.”

“My best friend is Odeng,” he deadpans.  You barely muster the energy to pinch him in mock-indignation.  “Ouch!  I’m sorry!  Ow!”

“Shush, go to sleep,” you grumble.

Jin apologizes again, chest shaking in soft laughter.  You smile.  He may be your best friend, but his tomfoolery knows no bounds.

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