Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Were this story to have a happy ending, it would be a fairy tale.

Were this story to have a happy ending, it would mean some god seven years away from earth heard the plea of one Park Jimin, sobbed through bloodstained hands in the back of a van, his friend's dying screams still ringing through his mind.

Were this story to have a happy ending, it wouldn't have been Jimin and Taehyung and Jungkook and Seokjin left, defenseless, in a warehouse, swarmed before the others could return.

Were this story to have a happy ending, it would mean that seven would have stayed seven, and not fallen to six, to four, to two.

Were this story to have a happy ending, it would mean that Jimin wouldn't have lost his grip, and Yoongi wouldn't have fallen, and Namjoon wouldn't have leapt after him.

Were this story to have a happy ending, it would mean that there would be more to prove Bangtan Sonyeondan ever existed than a mountainside house, filled with polaroids, albums, paintings, and broken hearts. 

But it doesn't, does it?

Jimin's broken arm hangs useless at his side as he slides back, eyes wide with terror and tears streaming down his cheeks. The gun shakes in his good hand, nearly falling out of blood-slicked fingers, but one lingers on the trigger nonetheless.

Before him, what once was Kim Taehyung shambles towards him, mouth ajar and eyes crazed. Blood rolls down his mouth, and his lips twist into some crumpled copy of a grin as he shambles closer, motor skills already degrading.

"Taehyung..." Jimin whispers, gaze lingering on the rotting bite mark on his best friend's neck. "Tae..."

The creature tilts its head to the side, whatever neural functions remaining all dedicated to the processing of a name. A strangled, broken noise escapes its throat, and it vaguely resembles a name - vaguely resembles Jimin - and Jimin's heart breaks anew.

Not that it wasn't already broken, no. It shattered the first time Taehyung pulled down his shirt to show Jimin the bite mark, broke again when Taehyung started slipping into bits of incoherence.

(It shattered the first time Hoseok's cheerful laugh was replaced in his mind with Jungkook's screams, Yoongi's shouting, Taehyung's sobs against his shoulder)

"Please..." Jimin gasps, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Please... just one more chance. Just one more. Just... just once more."

The gun slides out of his shaking hands and hits the ground - it wasn't even loaded. Pointless, but he could never shoot Taehyung.

His numb fingers pull a single polaroid out of his ratty, blood-covered backpack instead, one with washed-out colors, blood stains coating the white. One that's torn, cried on, and obviously loved, but still precious nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," Jimin whispers. "I'm so sorry..."

Taehyung bends down, mouth open, and Jimin shuts his eyes, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry..."

And then, exactly seven years after that fateful day in the back of a van, a god somewhere hears his prayer.

And time rewinds.

And Park Jimin opens his eyes to clean white sheets, soft breathing against his neck, and birdsong ringing through the morning air.

Chapter Text

Jimin didn't have many expectations for his birthday in the post-apocalypse. 

They'd pulled together something for Jungkook's birthday, but Namjoon's somehow slipped under the radar. That is to say, they weren't able to scrounge up enough materials for a cake like they wanted, but they still managed to give him presents. 

He honestly doesn't expect much. Almost all he wants is around him.

(Aside from Hoseok, but. Well. Not much can be done there)

"Happy birthday, Jiminie!" Taehyung squeals as soon as he walks in, tackling him in a hug. Jimin laughs, grinning as Taehyung drags him into the living room, where Jungkook and Namjoon await.

"Happy birthday, Jimin!" Seokjin beams, entering the room with a medium-sized box, wrapped in pastel wrapping paper. He and Namjoon exchange looks, and Jimin internally sighs - Yoongi must be too hungover to function again - but he doesn't let that affect him.

"You didn't have to," Jimin laughs, allowing Taehyung to pull him onto the couch. "I didn't want anything-"

"Nope!" Seokjin scolds. "We missed Namjoon's birthday, and we are sure as hell not going to miss yours."

"I avoided my birthday," Namjoon protests. "There's a difference."

"You tried," Jungkook comments. "Seokjin-hyung wouldn't let you."

"You got incredibly drunk with Yoongi and shot fireworks on the roof," Seokjin deadpans. "Excuse me if I don't want a repeat."

"You're just sore you missed it," Yoongi grumbles, pushing past Seokjin and falling into an armchair. "Happy birthday, Jimin."

"Thank you, Yoongi-hyung!" Jimin beams, and Yoongi huffs.

"Just Yoongi," he grumbles. "None of you," he gestures in the direction of the younger members, "none of you need to call me hyung."

"Do you want us to call you hyung?" Jimin asks, and Yoongi shakes his head. "Well, alright, then. Thank you, Yoongi."

"That goes for you too," Yoongi states, jabbing a finger in Namjoon's direction. "Don't call me hyung."

"You guys shouldn't call me hyung, either, then," Namjoon grins, and Jimin smiles upon seeing the leader's dimples. "Just Namjoon is fine."

"Then you can just call me Seokjin," the eldest adds. "It's not like age really matters anymore."

"Fine with me," Jungkook smiles. "I never call Jimin hyung anyways, so it's cool."

"I never gave you permission!" Jimin squawks, but Jungkook doesn't seem to be hearing him. 

"Open the present!" Taehyung exclaims. "I wanna see what it is!"

Jimin tears into the wrapping paper, revealing a box for a polaroid camera. He immediately opens it, revealing a bright pink camera with close to twenty rolls of film.

"Seokjin... Seokjin and I found it while we were scouting out the mall," Namjoon supplies, evidently struggling with the lack of honorifics. "Do you like it?"

"I love it!" Jimin chirps, eyes lighting up. "I absolutely love it! Thank you both so much!"

"Any time," Seokjin grins. 

"Can we take a photo?" Taehyung asks, and Jimin withdraws it from the box and raises the camera, gesturing to the others in the hopes that they'll come closer. 

"Smile!" Jimin exclaims, and the six of them grin for the camera.

Jimin's around eighty percent certain he is not, in fact, dead.

On the one hand, there's clean white sheets. The air is calm, and birds chirp merrily in a way they haven't for nearly seven years. Cars rumble outside (cars!) and the sounds of muffled laughter fill the air. Taehyung's next to him, violet stud earring glowing in the faint light, and Jimin reaches over to slide down the collar of his shirt, exhaling slowly when he sees clear, unmarred skin. 

Taehyung's sleeping next to him.

Taehyung.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he buries his face in his best friend's shirt, arms around his back as he pulls him in tight. Taehyung hums, eyes fluttering open, and Jimin feels warm arms encircle his as the singer gently strokes his back. 

"You're alive," Jimin whispers, and Taehyung hums assent, fingers running through Jimin's hair.

"And your hair is black," he murmurs.

Jimin nearly laughs at that - his hair has been a horrifying shade of pink-red and Taehyung's a brilliant aquamarine ever since their misadventure with some bleach and hair dye - but he simply nods instead, lifting his head to survey their surroundings.

It's their old dorm, one they haven't been in for years. Seven years, to be precise.

Jimin catches sight of his old phone on the side of the table and reaches for it, shaking hands keying in his ancient password. The screen displays his suspicions - 12 June 2020 - and he lets it fall to the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as he does.

"Chim?" Taehyung murmurs, and a soft hand squeezes his own. "You alright?"

"We're back," Jimin breathes, and Taehyung inhales behind him, eyes widening as he stares at the phone screen. "We're back, Tae."

Taehyung immediately drops Jimin's hand and darts to the door, throwing it open and rushing out of the room. Jimin chases after him, though he skids to a sudden stop upon seeing the state of the kitchen.

Seokjin's cooking at the stove (Seokjin! cooking!) and Namjoon leans against the opposite counter, a soft smile on his face as the pair trade casual banter. Jungkook's already at the table, and Yoongi nurses a cup of coffee next to him, staring into its dark depths as though it holds the secrets of the universe.

"Good morning!" Seokjin smiles, and Jimin momentarily forgets how to breathe.

"Hi!" Taehyung grins, though Jimin can see his hands shaking. "What's for breakfast?"

Seokjin opens his mouth to respond, but is abruptly cut off by a plate sliding to the ground and smashing on the floor. "Namjoon!" he shouts, and the leader stares at the shards of plate, then back to Seokjin, and slowly shuffles out of the kitchen. 

It's so domestic it hurts.

"Morning!" someone chirps, and Jimin shrieks, spinning and coming face-to-face with Hoseok.

Hoseok.

"Is everything okay?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin works really hard on remembering how to breathe. "You ran out of the room so fast earlier... I was worried."

"Yep!" Jimin squeaks, backing away and into an equally-terrified Taehyung. "I'm just gonna! Coffee! Okay?"

Hoseok watches him go, confusion evident, and Jimin can feel the weight of his gaze on his back.

"The van is coming at eight," Namjoon states. "Make sure to eat up before then."

Jimin nods, grabbing a mug of coffee and heading back to his room. Surprisingly, his ratty old backpack leans against the bed, and he places the mug on a side table, immediately opting to check the contents.

His knife and gun are still there, as are his twenty clips of ammo. Some (Taehyung) might call it excessive, but he just calls it coming prepared. 

Below the weaponry is a BTS hoodie, his winter jacket, a scarf, a spare set of clothes, some nutrition bars, his water bottle plus purifier, and below that, a blanket. Wrapped inside the blanket is his real treasure - a polaroid camera, and a small box inside a ziplock bag. Inside said box is a series of polaroids, all of Bangtan. All of the end of the world.

"You looking at them again?"

Taehyung rests his chin on his shoulder, and Jimin hums, running his thumb over the box. He puts it down on the bedspread and pulls out the polaroid camera, aiming it at Taehyung with a grin. "Smile!" he grins, and Taehyung complies, flashing a boxy grin at the camera. 

Jimin waves the small photo that emerges, opening the box and sliding it inside. "I need to get more of Hobi," he hums, and Taehyung nods, wrapping his arms around Jimin's midsection. 

"Are you gonna tell him why?" Taehyung asks, and Jimin shakes his head. 

"That'd just make him worry," Jimin sighs. "I just... it'd be nice if we could not worry them, y'know?"

"We might have to," Taehyung replies. "I'm already planning to order some nutrition bars."

"Order a lot," Jimin advises. "And seven water purifiers. Just in case one of them breaks."

"Water purifiers don't break, Jimin," Taehyung grins, but nods regardless. 

"I'll get tickets for our families," Jimin smiles. "It shouldn't be that hard to get them out, right? Not if everything starts tomorrow. As long as they're out in time."

"Are you guys nervous?" Hoseok asks, poking his head around the doorframe. Jimin yelps, the chair nearly falling over as he turns, and it's only Taehyung's hand on his shoulder that keeps him upright.

"For what?" Taehyung asks, nerves evident. Not for whatever mystery event may come, but moreso for feat of giving up why they're here. 

"The concert tonight," Hoseok states, eyes narrowing in worry. "Are you two feeling okay?"

"Fine!" Jimin exclaims, kicking the backpack under the desk as surreptitiously as he can. "I'm fine! Doing great, actually!"

Hoseok quirks a brow, but doesn't otherwise comment. "Yoongi-hyung chugged about four cups of coffee already," he grins, sitting down on the bed next to them. Before Jimin can second-guess it, he aims his camera at the elder's face and snaps a photo, shoving the white square into the pocket of his pajama pants.

Hoseok laughs, a bright smile on his face. "Why'd you do that?" he giggles, and Jimin shrugs, instead opting to snap another photo.

"He's a memory squirrel," Taehyung grins. "I think he has a box of those somewhere."

"When'd he get it?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin pauses for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I got it around seven years ago," he replies, and it's not actually a lie. In the original timeline, on his first birthday after everything went to shit, Seokjin and Namjoon gave it to him. Ever since then, he's repaired it, kept it stocked with film, the works.

"It looks new though..." Hoseok trails off, apparently confused. "Have you not used it much?"

"He repairs it," Taehyung supplies. "I think he could build one from scratch by this point."

"Well, I had a great teacher," Jimin laughs. 

"Who taught you?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin's now at a crossroads.

He could go with the truth and say Namjoon. But then Hoseok might ask Namjoon, and then they'd be in trouble. On the other hand, he could lie, but he doesn't exactly think he'd be able to maintain that.

"A very good friend," he settles on, allowing some of his sadness to seep into his voice. "He was one of my best friends."

"Was?" Hoseok wonders, staring at him with wide (wide, so innocent) eyes. "Is he...?"

"He died," Jimin bitterly states. "He died because of me."

"That's not true," Taehyung murmurs. "You say that, but it's not true. Joon didn't die because of you-"

"Joon?" Hoseok probes, and Taehyung's eyes shine with guilt. That wasn't supposed to slip. "What was his name?"

"Choi Joontae," Jimin lies. "We called him Joon 'cause it was easier. He was really smart, and kind, and an amazing friend."

Everything but the name is true.

"How... how did he die?" Hoseok asks, face appearing vaguely green.

Jimin smiles, a bitter, broken thing. "He fell off a train."

There's two lies in the sentence that time.

He didn't fall off the train. He jumped.

And it wasn't the train that killed him.

"I'm so sorry," Hoseok whispers. "I... are you sure you're okay?"

"It was a long time ago," Jimin murmurs. "Four years is a long time, isn't it?"

Too long, in his opinion.

"It happened that close?" Hoseok nearly demands, eyes widening. "Jimin, why didn't you tell us? We could have helped!"

"You weren't there," Jimin whispers. "It was just me and Tae."

And Jungkook, but Hoseok doesn't need to know that.

"He was doing fine on his own," Taehyung adds, and Jimin knows that's a lie. He wasn't doing fine. 

Not when it was his fault.

"He's the one that gave you the camera?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin nods, words escaping him. "Oh, Jimin..."

"It was one of the worst days of my life," Jimin whispers. "It..."

He was going to say that it reminded him of when Hoseok died, but that's not exactly proper, is it? Not when he's talking to a clearly not-dead Hoseok right now, and when said Hoseok would call him crazy if he told him the truth.

"I wish I coulda done something different," he settles on. "Every single day."

He stares at Hoseok, already anticipating the next question. "But you're not here about that, are you?"

"Got me!" Hoseok beams, evidently trying to throw off the weight of the prior conversation. "I'm actually here because Namjoon wanted me to check on you! The van's coming in... fifteen minutes, so... are you gonna be alright for the concert?"

"Of course," Jimin immediately replies. "Thanks, Hobi."

Hoseok stares at him for a moment, and Jimin internally kicks himself. Forgetting the honorifics is a very dangerous mistake, and one he can only afford to make once or twice.

(Technically, he couldn't afford to make it at all, but he's already screwed, so. Well)

"That's Hobi-hyung to you!" Hoseok laughs, and Jimin nods. "Just make sure to get dressed, Jiminie. We've got to leave in a few minutes!"

"I'll be there soon!" Jimin smiles, gaze pinned on Hoseok as he leaves.

"We can't afford to make that mistake again," Taehyung sighs, head landing in his hands. "But... Joontae? How are we going to have this make any sense?"

"That was Wings era, Tae," Jimin mutters, and the younger flinches. "I think we'll be okay."

"It's been eleven years since then," Taehyung muses. "Wow. That's... that's crazy."

"Do we know the dances?" Jimin asks, and Taehyung pales, reaching up to rub his stud for reassurance. "I... don't know if I do."

"I don't," Taehyung whispers. "What are we gonna do, Jimin?"

"Fake it," Jimin sighs. "It's all we can do. Short of watching a video oh my god."

They've grown so accustomed to a life without the internet that it's not at all surprising that the idea took this long to materialize. Still, it has, and they might be able to not blow their cover in a matter of hours. 

Jimin opens YouTube and keys in "BTS concert video". "We'll watch it in the van," he states, and Taehyung nods. "Go get dressed, Tae. We can't go to the venue in pajamas."

Taehyung blinks and nods, sliding out of the door. Jimin sighs, throwing his phone onto his bed and opening his closet, resigning himself to the fate of pastel clothes and jeans. Jeans are terrible running pants, and pastels stand out like a beacon in the apocalypse.

He pulls on a neon shirt he knows for a fact he coated with mud to hide, and a pair of skinny jeans. Fun.

"You ready?" Namjoon asks, and Jimin turns to see the leader lounging against the doorframe, worry painted on his face. 

"Almost," Jimin hums, slinging his backpack onto his back. "Why?"

"You know you can talk to us," Namjoon murmurs. "Always, Jiminie."

"Is this about... Joontae?" Jimin asks, and Namjoon nods.

Wow, this is a strange conversation to have.

"I see a lot of him in you," Jimin notes, and it's true. His Namjoon is the same as this Namjoon, just... harsher and softer at the same time. A harder shell, but a softer inside. Sadder, as they all were, but at the same time, exactly the leader they needed.

It's hard not to see him when he looks at Namjoon now, honestly. 

"You two look so alike..." he trails off. "It just. It doesn't matter, really."

That's a lie. It matters so much more than he knows. 

"As long as you're feeling okay," Namjoon murmurs, and Jimin nods. 

"I'm fine," Jimin insists, and Namjoon sighs, apparently unbelieving. 

"Remember to talk to us," Namjoon insists, and Jimin hums, stowing his phone in his pocket. "Jimin."

"Yes, Namjoon," Jimin drawls, before he immediately realizes what he did.

Shit.

"I mean, Namjoon-hyung!" he exclaims, waving his hands furiously in an attempt to distract from his words. "I'm so sorry!"

"This isn't like you," Namjoon points out. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Sure!" Jimin chirps, voice clipping up an octave in his panic. "I'm doing great! Better than fine! Wow, is that the van? Time to go!"

He pushes past Namjoon as quickly as he can, the rapper narrowing his eyes upon seeing Jimin's panic. "Jimin," the leader tries, striding after the dancer as best he can. "Jimin, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Jimin chirps, a bit too cheerfully, but there it is nonetheless. "I'm doing great! Where's Taehyung?"

Namjoon throws out an arm in front of him, effectively hindering his motion for the time being. "Park Jimin, tell me what's going on," he insists, but Jimin's become an expert at dodging conversations.

"There's the van!" Jimin exclaims, sliding under the leader's outstretched arm and out the door. "See you soon, Namjoon... hyung!"

The entire way to the concert, he can feel Namjoon's piercing gaze on his back.

Chapter Text

Taehyung's birthday is almost as forgotten as Jimin's was, but it's near midnight when Namjoon reveals his surprise.

"I was going to do this with Seokjin," he murmurs, "but. Well."

There's a silent agreement not to talk about what happened - what Namjoon and Yoongi let happen - and Jimin thinks it's easier that way. Not nicer, simply easier.

Namjoon keeps two pistols to himself, a pair of gleaming silver guns that he carries at all times. They're his most prized possession, named Castor and Pollux (due to Castor's unfortunate tendency to jam) and he polishes and cleans them nearly daily.

The others tend to switch between weapons, but it's only Jimin and Namjoon that really have their own weapons. And neither of them ever trade.

Which is what makes Namjoon pulling the guns out of his holsters and sliding them across the rooftop to Taehyung so surprising. 

"What's this for?" Taehyung asks, evidently afraid to touch the two weapons. "I have a weapon already...?"

He indicates the combat knife he's taken to carrying, whimsically named Mochi. Namjoon frowns at it, and nudges the weapons a bit closer, decision apparently made. 

"That can't protect you from anything," he points out. "Take them. I can manage with just a knife."

"Are you fucking insane?" Yoongi drawls from the edge of the rooftop, a cigarette perched between his lips. "Or do you just have a death wish?"

(Do you just want to see Hoseok and Seokjin that much, Namjoon?)

"Not helping, Yoongi," Namjoon hums, and the three younger members shift awkwardly. There's a growing tension between the remaining elder members, specifically caused by Yoongi. Normally, Seokjin would be around to diffuse this, but. Well.

He's not around to do anything anymore. 

Thankfully, Yoongi doesn't retaliate, and Namjoon's relief is evident as he nudges the guns closer. "Take them. They're yours."

"I can't!" Taehyung protests, eyes widening. "They're your good luck charm, Joon! I couldn't just-"

"You need luck more than I do," Namjoon sighs, exhaustion apparent. "Please, Taehyung. Take the guns."

"But-"

"Hyung," Jungkook whispers, and Taehyung flinches, gaze flying to Jungkook. Out of all of them, he's the only one that sticks to using honorifics (mostly hyung), despite their repeated protests. "Please. It's what Namjoon-hyung wants."

"I..." Taehyung trails off, eyes sad. "Fine. But I don't... you'd better be careful, alright?"

Namjoon nods, and Jimin fishes his camera out of his bag.

"Can I get a picture of the two of you with Castor and Pollux?" he asks, and Taehyung beams, grabbing the guns and sliding over next to Namjoon. 

"You take one, and we'll point them at the camera!" the younger chirps, and Namjoon laughs, taking Castor out of Taehyung's hand and aiming it at the lens.

"Smile!" Jimin exclaims, and the shutter clicks.

Soundcheck goes well enough, though the pair of them stumble through the steps, movements barely passable. Now, the two of them are spread out over a pair of couches, reveling in their shared impending doom.

"Jiminie?"

Jimin hums, pausing the video as he turns to stare at Taehyung. "What's up, Tae?"

"Do you have my guns?" he asks, and Jimin freezes.

Shit. He didn't even think about Castor and Pollux, did he? Not since Taehyung got infected.

"Lemme check my bag," he replies, slinging the bag over his lap and opening the front pouch. Once a familiar silver gleam greets him, he sighs, relief evident.

"Can I hold them?" Taehyung practically begs, and Jimin can't blame him. They're somewhat of a security blanket for the younger, due to a certain series of events that Jimin definitely doesn't want to remind him of. 

He passes Taehyung the twin pistols, and his relief is evident. His gaze softens as he clutches the pair to his chest, flicking on the safety with the deftness of someone who's been doing it for years upon years. "I missed you guys," he murmurs, and Jimin tries his damndest to ignore his next words. "Castor... Pollux... Namjoon... I missed you..."

In a way, Jimin can understand it. A part of Namjoon's scholarly wisdom seems to be imparted in the guns simply by their name, and for Taehyung to equate that with actual Namjoon simply makes sense. But on the other hand... it's not healthy. 

"Are you two in here?" Namjoon asks, and Jimin all but slams the guns onto the table in his panic. "Oh. You are. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"Put them away!" Jimin hisses, but Taehyung isn't listening, instead opting to stare at Namjoon as though the sun has descended onto the mortal plane of existence. "Taehyung!"

He's not fast enough. Namjoon's gaze lands on the two guns, then flits to Taehyung, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "Okay. I'm just going to assume that you're not planning murder and not tell anyone, as long as you put them away."

Jimin snatches the pair of guns out of Taehyung's hands (since the owner in question is currently incapable of putting them away himself) and shoves them into his backpack, silently thanking his lucky stars that Namjoon's the most level-headed member of Bangtan. Honestly, if it was Seokjin or Hoseok that found them, they'd be screwed.

"Explain," Namjoon demands, falling into an armchair across from them. "The guns. The way you're acting. The backpack. The earrings. There's something going on that you're not telling us, and it's more than just some bad dream."

Jimin sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "You'll think we're insane-"

"This is Namjoon we're talking to," Taehyung interjects, fixing Jimin with a blazing stare. "He's the most likely to believe us, and also the one who can help us, right? I mean, if you think about it, even though he might not believe us, he's smart enough to know that he should at least take our suggestions under consideration, and that much might be enough to save Hobi, right?"

Jimin blinks, stunned that Taehyung managed to sum up his tangled thoughts into two sentences. "Yeah. You're right."

"Aren't I always?" Taehyung coos, and Jimin scoffs, reaching over to smack his arm. 

"Okay, Namjoon... hyung," Jimin starts. "You probably won't believe us, but we're actually from seven years in the future."

Namjoon doesn't react with disbelief like he was expecting, instead nodding slowly. "Continue."

Jimin blinks, confused, but carries on nonetheless. "Um, in our timeline, we're the last two left. All five of you guys died over three years ago."

"There was never a Joontae," Namjoon states. "You were talking about me, weren't you?"

Jimin nods, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. "You... some of what we said was true, from a certain point of view. You died four years ago. But it wasn't from jumping off a train."

"You got bitten when Yoongi did," Taehyung whispers. "He... he jumped off the train to buy us time. And Jimin... you couldn't accept it. So you jumped after him. He bled out, and you came back to our temporary base, and..."

He gestures to his guns, gaze horribly sad. "You gave these to me. Castor and Pollux."

"The Dioscuri," Namjoon murmurs, eyes distant. "That sounds like me."

"I have photos," Jimin whispers, pulling open his bag and reaching for the box. He unzips the bag and withdraws the box, opening it to his stacks of polaroids. 

The one on the top is one of his favorites - Namjoon and Taehyung holding Castor and Pollux respectively, the barrels pointed at the camera. The flash illuminates their faces in the dark night, and their smiles are blinding in their happiness. 

(Faux, forced happiness, but happiness regardless)

"You're telling the truth," Namjoon decides, and Jimin's eyes widen in shock. For him to believe it... actually believe it...

"Really?" Taehyung asks, and Namjoon nods.

"There's no other explanation," he replies, measured and even. "But what I don't understand is exactly how this works. Evidently, your consciousness was transferred back into your seven-year younger bodies, but your backpack from seven years in the future was transported as well. Technically, doesn't that create a paradox? Assuming, then, that you didn't make it yourself, two of the same backpack exist in this time now, as does the camera. Was there some sort of portal? If the two backpacks or the two cameras meet each other, would the fabric of space-time implode? There's a lot of things that need to be thought about here-"

"Magic," Taehyung simply replies, waving his hands with a completely deadpan expression on his face. 

"But-"

"Magic," Taehyung repeats, more forcefully this time. "Not everything has to have an explanation, Namjoon."

"But everything does," Namjoon sighs, fingers twitching as he resists the urge to run a hand through his hair. "Nothing happens without an explanation."

"You said that a lot after... after Hobi," Jimin murmurs. "Yoongi punched you for it once."

"I probably deserved it," Namjoon murmurs. "Are you two going to tell anyone else?"

"Maybe Seokjin," Jimin muses. "Not Hobi or Jungkook. Definitely not Yoongi."

He still remembers the look in Yoongi's eyes on that rooftop - dead, haunted, lit up by the cigarette, though the light only revealed empty pits where happiness once shone - and acknowledges it. Then closes it off, buries it deep down, deep deep down, somewhere he'll never find it. 

Somewhere he'll never, ever, ever have to see it again.

"I'll help, if you need me to," Namjoon offers, and Jimin smiles, immeasurably grateful. 

"Thank you," he whispers. "Thank you so much."

Namjoon leans forwards and bumps their foreheads together, a dimpled smile on his face. "You're not alone, Jimin," he grins, reaching over to link their pinkies. "Neither of you are. Tae, get over here."

Taehyung responds with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, leaping at the pair and tackling Namjoon in a hug. Namjoon laughs in response, and Jimin wants to bury himself in the sound, in the happiness it promises, but he settles for matching it with his own. 

"Yah!" someone shouts, and Seokjin's irritated face shatters the moment. "What're you three doing? We need to do makeup and hair!"

"Calm down, hyung," Namjoon smiles, a soft, calm thing. "We'll be alright. And besides, Jimin and Tae were just telling me about their nightmare from last night, 's all."

"Hug!" Taehyung demands, throwing his arms open wide. Seokjin laughs, but wraps his arms around Taehyung nonetheless, and the younger beams.

"Knew it," Yoongi deadpans from the door. "You're so soft for Taehyung, Jin-hyung."

"Yah!" Seokjin squawks. "Shut it, Yoongi!"

"You shut it," Yoongi grumbles. "I'm going to sleep."

Seokjin chases after him, and Namjoon shoots them a weak smile. "Sorry, guys," he laughs, turning and chasing after the eldest. "Hyung! Wait!"

"Well. That happened," Jimin states, and Taehyung laughs into his hands.

Makeup and hair goes as well as ever (not that Jimin has much reference, since the only other time in the last seven years someone's done his makeup was during a particularly ill-advised venture with Taehyung) and soon Jimin's standing on the side of the stage, trying valiantly to remember their choreography. 

"Are you two good on the choreo?" Namjoon asks, seemingly materializing from the shadows. Jimin yelps, turning to face the rapper, but Namjoon's words trump his momentary panic.

"Hopefully?" Jimin replies, the last syllable quirking up into a question. "I mean, I think so. It'll probably come back onstage."

"That's not very reassuring," Namjoon murmurs. "Especially for these songs..."

"It'll be alright!" Taehyung interjects, practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement. "We can totally do this!"

"I don't want to take chances," Namjoon sighs. "I can tell the others you're not feeling well-"

"We can do this," Taehyung repeats, eyes narrowing. "It may have been seven years, Joon, but we can still do this."

Namjoon smiles, though worry still shines in his eyes. "I believe in you," he assures them, turning to head towards Seokjin. "I know you can."

"You guys excited?" Hoseok chirps, launching himself at the pair and wrapping his arms around Taehyung's waist. "Last concert before break!"

"Yay..." Jimin trails off, trying his damndest to sound somewhat thrilled. He doesn't do very well.

"Aww, are you okay?" Hoseok frowns, eyes going sad. "You sound so sad..."

"I'm just tired," Jimin laughs. "I'm gonna be fine."

"Are you sure?" Hoseok asks, narrowing his eyes as he scans the pair. "You two look... sad. Are you gonna be alright for the concert?"

"I'll be fine!" Jimin assures him. "Right, Tae-Tae?"

"Yep," Taehyung replies, soothing baritone making Jimin smile. "Please don't worry, Hobi... hyung. We're doing alright."

"Yah, when'd you get so mature?" Hoseok laughs. "I've got such mature dongsaengs, don't I?"

"Yep," Jimin mumbles, trying to force the image out of his mind. He can't not hear it. Can't not see it. 

"I've got such mature dongsaengs, don't I?"

"If you're not feeling okay, you should sit down," Hoseok advises. "Make sure to stay safe! For hyung!"

"Make sure to stay safe, okay? Hyung's gonna be right back."

"Don't leave," Jimin whispers, reaching out to grip the hem of Hoseok's stage outfit. "Please, hyung. Don't go."

"Jiminie, the concert's about to start," Hoseok laughs, an awkward, strained thing. "But I'll be right here, m'kay?"

"I'm just gonna go talk to someone and find out what's going on, alright? Jiminie, you have to take care of the dongsaengs, alright? Be the amazing hyung I know you can be."

"Please," Jimin whispers. "Not again. Don't... don't leave again, hyung."

Hoseok frowns, confusion evident. "Jimin, are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Hey, hey, Jiminie," Taehyung soothes, wrapping his arms around Jimin's torso and resting his head on his shoulder. "You're okay. We're okay. Hobi's okay."

Jimin inhales, a shaking, weak thing. "...yeah. Okay. Right."

"Maybe you two should sit out..." Hoseok trails off, and Jimin's eyes narrow in irritation.

"No!" he protests. "We've gotta... we gotta do this for ARMY!"

"ARMY will understand," Hoseok assures him. "If you're not feeling okay-"

"Please, hyung," Taehyung pleads. "We're alright. We can do this."

Hoseok frowns at them, but relents. "...fine. Just stay close to me, okay?"

"Always," Jimin promises.

They gather together backstage, and the roars of ARMY fill the air. Namjoon leads the chant just before they go out on-stage, and Jimin and Taehyung shout it alongside the others.

"Bangtan, Bangtan, Bang-Bangtan!"

The concert actually goes much better than Jimin expected. He and Taehyung are near each other for a lot of the concert, and Namjoon checks in with them at every break. The choreo is passable, their singing is great, and the eclectic energy filling the air is intoxicating.

It's near the end that everything goes to shit.

They're saying goodbye to ARMY, jumping, waving, the whole shebang, and fireworks explode in the front of the stage.

"Please, please, don't let Jungkook see this. Please, Jimin... Tae. I'm sorry."

Jimin falls to his knees, the world swirling around him. Unwanted memories surface in his mind, replaying it on loop - Taehyung's shaking hand as he aimed the gun, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed, a pale hand raising Castor's barrel to his temple, a dimpled smile-

"Jimin! Taehyung!" someone shouts, but it might as well be a world away. The sounds of screaming intensify, and Jimin can only hear Hobi Hobi Hobi in his mind, mixed with the memory of Taehyung's finger on the trigger.

"Jimin," someone whispers, his low, gravelly voice oddly soothing. "Jimin, can you tell me something you feel?"

Jimin's hand falls to his side, and his knuckles brush a smooth surface. "W-Wood," he murmurs. "Fabric. I-It's hot."

"You're doing great," the person soothes. "Do you know who I am?"

"Y-Yoongi," he mutters. "Y-You're Yoongi."

"Right," Yoongi replies. "Can I touch you?"

"Y-Yeah..." Jimin whispers.

Yoongi's warm, and Jimin melts into his touch like butter. The elder reaches up to wipe some tears off his cheek, and fuck, it's been just over seven years since Jimin's seen this side of Yoongi, been just under since he was unofficially forced into the Hyung Line. 

Perhaps the two have a correlation, then. 

"You're good at this," Jimin mumbles, voice muffled by Yoongi's jacket. "Where'd you learn it?"

"Joon taught me," Yoongi murmurs, and Jimin's eyes widen, his hand tightening around Yoongi's jacket.

"That's going around," he simply replies, and Yoongi frowns, apparently confused. 

"Let's get you backstage, huh?" the rapper suggests, wrapping an arm around Jimin's back. "Tae's already back there, and Namjoon's talking to ARMY."

"What about Jin and Hobi?" Jimin asks, words tripping over each other thanks to his foggy brain. 

"Hyung's comforting Tae, and Hoseok's screaming into a pillow over something that I honestly don't want to know," Yoongi deadpans, and Jimin laughs, a strained, weak thing, but a laugh nonetheless. 

"You're great..." Jimin trails off, leaning into Yoongi's side. "You're a great hyung. Thanks."

Yoongi smiles, a soft, tender thing. "You're a great dongsaeng, Jiminie. Don't worry about it."

Surprisingly, Hoseok of all people, is the one on the warpath when Jimin enters their lounge area. He slams the backpack on the table, eyes blazing with a rage uncharacteristic for the normally happy man. "Explain," he demands, reaching into the bag and pulling out Jimin's pistol. "Now."

Chapter Text

Jimin's world ends for the second time when Namjoon comes staggering back through the door of their house four days after disappearing, Yoongi's (dead) body draped over his back and a rotting bite wound on his leg.

"They got me," he whispers, and falls to the ground with a thud.

Jungkook wails and Taehyung screams, but Jimin has to be the responsible one, has to be the hyung right now, because fuck if Namjoon and Yoongi can do it.

So he drags Namjoon over to the side of the room, ties him up and chains him to the wall, just in case. Takes Yoongi's body out back and screams into his hyung's cold chest before burying him, tears rolling down his cheeks and shovel handle rubbing his hands raw. 

"Hyung..." Jungkook whispers, and arms encircle his torso. "Hyung, I'm sorry..."

"Thanks, Kook," Jimin smiles, a weak, strained thing. "And you actually called me hyung..."

"I want to take some of the burden off your shoulders," the younger states. "Please let me help, even if it's just a little bit."

"Sure, Kook," Jimin whispers, letting the shovel slip out of his hands and hit the ground. "I will."

They head back inside, and Jimin waits, sitting in front of Namjoon in hopes that whatever wakes up will, in fact, be his hyung.

"Jimin...?" Namjoon rasps, and Jimin can  see the darkness crawling through his veins of his neck. "I shoulda... shoulda stayed away... sorry... Jiminie..."

"Don't talk like that!" Taehyung shouts, tears rolling down his face. "Don't!"

"Jimin... you're an... an incredible hyung," Namjoon whispers. "You're gonna do... gonna do great."

"Joon-hyung..." Jimin whispers, because he doesn't want to do this, never wanted to do this, this was never supposed to be his job-

"Tae... keep smiling..." Namjoon continues. "Your smile... your smile is the best... the best part of this..."

"Stop talking like that!" Taehyung shrieks. "You're not dying!"

"Kook... I'm so... so proud of you..." Namjoon smiles, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm so... so proud... so proud of the man you've become... and... and Seokjin-hyung was... too..."

"Hyung..." Jungkook whispers, and there's not a dry face in the house.

"Jimin," Namjoon states, fixing the dancer with a fiery glare. "I want you to shoot me."

"What?" the three youngest exclaim in unison, and Jimin honestly thinks he's going to be sick.

Shoot Namjoon? Shoot his hyung?

"I'll do it," Taehyung whispers. "Jiminie... I can't... I can't let him do that."

"Tae-" Jimin protests, but he's cut off by Jungkook pressing something into his hand. 

"Take a picture, hyung," the youngest whispers. "It's the last one you're ever gonna get."

Jimin angles the lens at his hyung, and Namjoon smiles, dimples popping even as Taehyung sobs. 

"S-Smile, hyung," he whispers, and Namjoon nods, smiling even as the sound of a gunshot rings through the air.

"Is that a gun?" Seokjin asks, eyes widening. "Why do you have a gun?"

"There's something going on here that they aren't telling us!" Hoseok insists, waving the gun around like a toy. "Why do you two have this? Why do you-"

"Put it down," Jimin hisses, voice going horrifyingly dark.

The truth of the matter is that his gun does have a name. It's just not a very nice one.

"Explain first," Hoseok demands, raising the gun above his head. "Then I'll give it back."

Jimin sees red, hands balling into fists by his side as he forces out his next words. "His name is Pestilence, and you are going to give it back, Hoseok."

"That's what I mean!" Hoseok exclaims. "The way you're acting! No honorifics! That's not like you!"

"Hobi-hyung," Namjoon states, placing a warning hand on his shoulder. "Don't."

"Are you just going to ignore this?" Hoseok asks, in disbelief. "Really?"

"I'm not ignoring it," Namjoon repeats, calm and even. "I already know what's happening. So I'm not ignoring it. And you shouldn't force them to talk about it before they're ready."

"It's alright," Jimin whispers, surprising everyone (including himself) with his words. "I don't... I didn't want to tell them. I didn't want them to know. But it might as well come out at some point."

"But Yoongi?" Taehyung whispers. "Maybe we start with Hobi and Jin?"

"Yeah... okay," Jimin relents. "Is it okay... is it okay if we talk to Hobi and Jin first? I'm just... I need a bit to prepare before we talk to Yoongi and Kook."

"Of course that's okay," Namjoon replies, and Yoongi throws him a dirty look. "Hyung... please?"

"Fine," Yoongi huffs, heading for the door. "Kook, c'mon. We'll go find some food."

"You're gonna be okay, right?" Jungkook asks, eyes wide with worry. "I'm only leaving if I know you're gonna be okay."

"We'll be fine, Kook," Jimin smiles. "Trust your... trust me, okay?"

"Be careful, hyung," Jungkook whispers, and Jimin freezes, eyes opening wide.

"Jiminie-hyung... you're an amazing hyung... don't ever forget that."

"Don't call me hyung," he immediately replies. "Just Jimin. Please, Kook."

Seokjin frowns as Yoongi steers the youngest out of the door, eyes immediately narrowing once it shuts. "Guys, what's going on?"

"Hyung..." Taehyung trails off, gaze lingering on the door. "Jiminie... should I...?"

"You can go chat with Jungkookie," Jimin smiles, and Taehyung beams, leaping to his feet and racing out the door. It slams shut behind him, leaving Jimin in the snake den.

Crap. He should've gone with Taehyung.

Hoseok places the pistol on the desk and frowns, grimace only growing when Jimin slides it into the waistband of his stage uniform. "Yah, Park Jimin! What are you expecting? We have security! Nothing can get us!"

"I'm expecting to have to shoot some zombies in the head tomorrow," Jimin simply replies, yanking his backpack into his lap. "Why else would I have a gun?"

Seokjin's mouth falls open, and Hoseok's lips form a small "o". Behind them, Namjoon shoots him a helpless sort of "why" gesture, and Jimin simply smiles at him. 

"You do realize the short form makes no sense, Jimin," Namjoon sighs, voice muffled by his hand, which is currently occupied with massaging his temples. 

"Somehow, Taehyungie and I got sent back in time from seven years in the future," Jimin adds. "The world ends tomorrow, and... we're all that's left."

"We meaning all seven of us?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin slowly shakes his head. 

"I have pictures," Jimin states, reaching into the bottom of his backpack and withdrawing the box. "It's not... you might not wanna see them."

"Do you want a hug, Jimin?" Seokjin offers, and Jimin nods, crawling into the elder's lap and relaxing into Seokjin's hands. Fingers coax knots out of his hair and he leans his head back, eyes sliding shut as he melts into Seokjin's touch. "Oh, my poor Jiminie... you've been through so much..."

"I missed you, hyung," Jimin whispers, and Seokjin stiffens, hands momentarily pausing in their ministrations. "I missed you guys..."

Across the table, Hoseok and Namjoon sift through Jimin's hefty polaroid collection, the former's frown only growing with each passing photo. "Jimin?" he finally asks, voice soft. "Where am I?"

"You... died," Jimin whispers, gaze pinned on the floor. "The day of the outbreak. You pushed me and Tae and Kook into a storage closet, and went to go find someone, but they caught you. You screamed so loud, hyung..."

Hoseok blinks, bewildered. "What?"

Namjoon's gaze narrows as he stares at a polaroid in his grasp, and Jimin knows exactly which one it is.

"That shouldn't be in there," he mutters, lunging across the table to yank the square out of the leader's hands. "I don't know why that's in there."

He stares at the photo for a moment - Namjoon smiling at the camera, tears rolling down his cheeks and the black signs of infection crawling up his neck, mingling with Yoongi's blood, smeared on his cheeks and painting his white shirt a deep red.  - and it takes him a moment to realize Seokjin's staring at it as well, gaze pensive as he takes it in.

"Jimin..." the eldest trails off, and Jimin realizes he's crying. He reaches a fist up to wipe a tear off, but more continue to flow, and his lithe frame shakes as Seokjin presses him into his chest. "We're here now, Chim."

"What happened to Jin-hyung?" Hoseok asks, seeming vaguely green.

Jimin sighs, gaze sad. "I... it's not..."

"You don't need to talk about it," Seokjin soothes. "It's alright."

"You can't tell Yoongi any of this," Jimin immediately demands, eyes blazing with conviction. "You cannot. I just, and it'd, it'd break him. It's bad enough that Tae has to remember this with me and that you guys have to know. After Jin... after that... he just... he looked like glass, y'know? So fragile... delicate... and already cracked, distorting the picture we knew. At least, that's what Namjoon said. A-And he used to say that it didn't matter if he smoked, because he wasn't gonna live long enough to get lung cancer anyways, and normally Jin would stop him from doing that, but he wasn't there, and Namjoon was just trying to keep us together, so I had to steal his cigarettes when he wasn't looking, a-and once or twice he got so drunk that he nearly jumped off the roof, b-but Tae doesn't know that part, a-and he doesn't need to know, and Kook never knew that part, but that doesn't matter, because I'm not letting Yoongi fall back into that."

"Yah, when did you get so mature?" Seokjin laughs, trying (and failing miserably) to lighten the situation. Hoseok and Namjoon shoot him twin looks of disbelief and Seokjin raises his hands in the air, a silent apology hovering between them. 

"Yoongi and Namjoon went out on a hunt," Jimin murmurs, and all three lean in closer to listen. "It was Tae's birthday, and they wanted to finish up the perimeter check so we could celebrate, y'know? And they took all the weapons so they could finish up super fast. So it was just me, Tae, Kook, and Jin in this big-ass warehouse, and we're setting up for Tae's party when we hear a banging on the door.

"Now, Jin isn't an idiot. He tells me to take the other two up to the catwalky-upstairs thing since we didn't have any weapons, and goes to see who it is. And he was crazy smart about it, hyung. He made a lasso out of rope and pulled the door open, because he wasn't sure it wasn't either Namjoon or Yoongi, since the warehouse was mostly soundproof, and he couldn't just leave them outside.

"And... and they swarmed him. He managed to shout for help, and thank fuck Namjoon was there, 'cause he heard him and got back inside, shot the hell out of them and threw me Pestilence, and we were able to keep Tae and Kook safe, but Jin... they got him in the neck, and the leg, and the chest, a-and he didn't even turn, he bled out in Namjoon's arms and he looked so scared, you don't understand, he looked terrified but he was smiling, he kept smiling as Namjoon cried, and we all cried, but he kept smiling even though his hands were shaking.

"Yoongi didn't even make it back until after Jin was already dead, and I had to tell him because Namjoon wouldn't move, he just kept crying into Jin's hair, and both of them blamed themselves, Namjoon always blames himself, but he wouldn't even move until sunset. I mean, he and Jin were so close... and Yoongi couldn't do anything, he just tried to protect Kook, just tried to stop him from seeing, a-and I had to try and comfort Namjoon, 'cause I was one of the oldest ones there, y'know? And this... this broke them, I think. 

"Namjoon tried so hard. You guys can't even imagine how hard he tried. He's the one who finally threw Yoongi's bottles in the trash, the one who'd wear the matching black eye to Yoongi's bruised knuckles, because he thought if Yoongi had to take out his hurt, it was best that it'd be him. I remember one night, Yoongi was drunk out of his mind, and Jungkook tried to stop him from grabbing another bottle, and Yoongi almost punched him.

"I say almost 'cause Namjoon shoved him out of the way and took the hit, and that night, he hit Yoongi back. He started shouting at him about how he was being a dumbass, and about how Jin and Hobi being gone meant that he had to try harder, not stop trying, and I just tried to distract Tae and Kook, but as you can assume, that didn't go so well. 

"Yoongi broke a bottle on the side of the roof and threatened him with it, and Namjoon just grabbed it and threw it out of his hands before punching him. He knocked out a tooth and shouted at him again, and he was crying, he was crying, and I don't think I ever saw him cry after that.

"One thing in particular he said got me: 'you were my best friend, and now I don't even know you anymore'. And I looked at us - a bunch of twenty-thirty somethings with messy hair and dirty clothes just trying to live, and then I thought back to now, when we had bright hair and polished clothes, and I realized that none of us were really the same as we were back then. 

"They never actually made up, y'know. I mean, I wanna think that at the end Yoongi knew Namjoon was there, that he knew Namjoon was there as he... but Namjoon never told me, so we'll never know."

"Jimin..." Seokjin whispers, and a blanket of silence covers the room, broken only by Jimin's soft sniffling as he wraps his arms around his legs.

"I never wanted to be the oldest," he whispers, voice raspy from tears. "I was never supposed to be the oldest. And... I'm not good at it. I'm not."

"Jiminie-hyung! Ah, thank you so much! I can't believe this is all for me!"

"I wish I could've done better," he murmurs. "I should've done better. Why didn't I do better?"

"I'm just gonna go find Taehyungie, Jiminie-hyung! Don't worry about me! I'll be right back! And I'll take your gun! Mercy, right?"

"I failed," he sobs, tears now freely streaming down his face. "I couldn't save Hobi, or Jin, or Yoongi, or Kookie, or Tae... I failed them..."

Warm arms wrap around him from the back, and Jimin turns to see Taehyung's wide eyes, concern shining in their depths. "Oh, Jiminie," he whispers. "It wasn't your fault."

"I l-let him go," Jimin sobs, raising his head to stare into the ceiling. Taehyung buries his face into the crook of Jimin's neck, and Jimin wails, lithe frame shaking with sobs. "I-It's my fault... w-why did I let him go?"

"Jungkook didn't blame you," Taehyung soothes. "I don't blame you. It was just a shitty accident, 'Minnie."

"Everything I touch dies!" Jimin wails, and Taehyung rubs his arm, a familiar boxy grin in place.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" he reminds the dancer, and Jimin nods, eyes squeezed shut as the polaroid in his grip shakes. "You're never alone, Jiminie."

"How long've you been here?" Namjoon asks, and Taehyung smiles.

"Ah, since the start," he sheepishly replies. "I thought Jiminie might need some moral support, and I was right."

"But... Yoongi and Jungkook..." Jimin whispers, and Taehyung blinks once, twice, then groans, throwing his head back to stare into the lights.

"I knew there was something I was supposed to do!" he exclaims, and Jimin's eyes widen in terror.

"Taehyung, tell me you didn't."

But Namjoon and Hoseok and Seokjin are staring at something behind him, and Jimin turns just in time to catch a flash of teal as Yoongi runs, leaving a shocked Jungkook to linger in the doorframe.

"Yoongi-hyung!" Namjoon shouts, leaping off the couch to chase after the eldest rapper. "Hyung, wait!"

Jimin shakes as he grips his knees, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry..." he murmurs, and a hand cups his face, lifting his jaw so his eyes meet Hoseok's.

"Thank you for telling us, Jiminie," Hoseok smiles, and Jimin knows he's a snotty gross mess right now, but he doesn't care, and there's just so many emotions right now.

"I'm so proud of you," Seokjin soothes, fingers running through Jimin's hair. Next to him, Taehyung has his arms wrapped around Jungkook, and Hoseok pulls up a chair so he can continue talking.

"It's okay to not be okay," he promises. "And we'll stay by your side this time."

"You promise?" Jimin murmurs, and Hoseok nods.

"Of course!" he grins, flashing the younger a heart-shaped smile. "After all, I'm your hope! J-Hope!"

God, his makeup is dead. 

"Thank you..." Jimin whispers. "You guys... I just..."

"Hyung," Jungkook murmurs, crawling over to rest his head on Jimin's shoulder. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I hope so," Jimin smiles, resting his head on top of Jungkook's. "Tae and I... we'll get there."

"Help! Someone!"

Jimin bolts to his feet, eyes widening in terror. He knows that voice.

Namjoon bursts through the door, eyes wide with panic. There's blood smeared on his cheek and on his stage uniform, and Yoongi's form is draped over his back, head lolling and eyes shut.

Jimin knows this scene. 

"They didn't get him," Namjoon states, and Taehyung immediately darts to the door, shoving his pistols in the waistband of his stage uniform. "I know they didn't. These things are white, I would've seen."

Jimin peels open Yoongi's eyelids, relieved to see them contract with the light. "Yeah. He's good."

"What happened?" Seokjin asks, and Jimin crosses the room to sling his backpack over his shoulder. "What's going on?"

A scream rings through the air, and Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look. "It was supposed to be tomorrow," Taehyung whispers. "It's not..."

"Fuck," Jimin hisses. "We have to get out of here. I can take Joon, Hobi, and Yoongi. Tae, can you take Jin and Kook? Rendezvous at the dorm?"

"That's an hour away by van," Seokjin breathes. "You can't be serious."

But Taehyung's already nodding, a determined frown set on his face. "High concentration of Runners. Make sure to keep your guard up and stay silent."

"I could say that to you," Jimin teases, tossing two clips of ammunition in Taehyung's direction. "Don't fucking lose these again, Kim Taehyung. I will murder you."

"One time," Taehyung sighs, rolling his eyes. "One time a clip of ammo falls out of my pocket and you treat it like the world ended a second time."

"Stop your sass," Jimin snaps. "Can you do window?"

"Can I do window," Taehyung parrots, lips curling into a smirk. "I'd be offended if I couldn't."

"Congrats, time to roll out the window," Jimin deadpans. "Joon, can you run while carrying Yoongi?"

"More or less," Namjoon replies, adjusting the smaller rapper's position on his shoulders. Jimin frowns, but doesn't otherwise comment, instead turning to Hoseok.

"Take this," he states, pressing a pocketknife into Hoseok's hand. "You're getting out of this alive, so fucking help me God."

"What's going on?" Jungkook asks, and oh, Jimin wants to preserve that innocence.

"You two can run fast, right?" Jimin asks, and prays to whatever gods may be that his Namjoon's exceptional coordination (a skill honed over three years of running, jumping, fleeing, clumsiness still present but exceptional coordination taking over in times of stress) could in some way transfer over to his past self. 

Not looking likely, but he can dream.

"Define 'fast'," Namjoon replies, and Jimin wants to scream.

"As fast as you can," Jimin relents, and Namjoon nods. "Jung Hoseok, do not touch the zombies. Don't touch anyone, okay? We can't take the chance. And... and I'm not gonna lose you again."

"But if we can save someone-"

"That's how you died the first time," Jimin bitterly remarks. "Not happening."

Jimin crosses the room and bumps his forehead against Taehyung's, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Stay safe," he whispers, and Taehyung nods, sliding open the window.

"You too, Chiminie," he smiles, and he's gone.

"Okay, you guys ready?" Jimin asks, hand on the door handle. Namjoon nods, and Hoseok does as well, though he looks like he wants to be sick. "Okay. Fighting!"

They throw the door open, and start to run.

Chapter Text

"Aren't the stars pretty tonight?" Namjoon asks, dimpled smile a bit too bright as he stares into the night sky. "It's nice that we can see them, y'know?"

"Yeah," Jimin hums, resting his head on the elder's shoulder. "It's nice."

Namjoon turns to smile at him, only for his peaceful expression to twist into one of confusion. "What-"

"You have to stop drinking," Jungkook murmurs, and Yoongi laughs, taking a swig from his bottle. "Hyung, you can't do this-"

"Fuck off," Yoongi spits, and Jimin wraps his arms around Namjoon's wrist as the elder stands, irritation blazing in his eyes. "You don't know anything."

"Hyung-"

Namjoon crosses the roof in two short steps, grabbing the back of Jungkook's hoodie and yanking him back as Yoongi's fist slams into his ribs. Jimin nearly screams, Taehyung's arms wrapping around his waist the only thing that stops him as he pulls him close.

"I'm done with you, Min Yoongi," Namjoon hisses, and Jimin swears that there's something gleaming on his face besides the pair of earrings Seokjin gifted him on his last birthday. "I'm so done with you."

"Like you're one to fucking talk," Yoongi mutters. "You'd get drunk if you could."

"Shut up and sober up," Namjoon growls. "You almost hit Jungkook. Our Jungkook. What in the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Jin's Jungkook," Yoongi mumbles.

Namjoon's expression cycles through a series of emotions, eventually setting on anger. "Seokjin and Hoseok are dead, Yoongi," he hisses, and Yoongi regards him with cool disinterest. "That doesn't mean you can just- you can't just check out. We have to work harder for the others, not just do whatever we want."

"Like I give a fuck," Yoongi grumbles, and Jimin watches as he smashes the edge of a spare bottle on the roof. He pulls Jungkook into his lap, the youngest watching even as Jimin whispers into his ear. "'S not like you ever gave a fuck 'bout me."

Namjoon yanks the broken bottle out of his hand and slams his free fist into Yoongi's face, throwing the bottle off the roof as he does. Yoongi spits a bit of blood and a tooth onto the ground, and his lips twist into a dark grin.

"You were my best friend!" Namjoon shouts, immeasurable hurt contained in his voice as his skeletal frame shakes. "And now I don't even know you anymore!"

Jimin stares at him, at the tears rolling down his cheeks, at the blood painting his pale face red and at his too-skinny arms, and his heart aches upon seeing their leader - someone so strong, brave, someone so absolutely incredible - and sees someone broken. 

Yoongi reaches down, takes another swig from his bottle and laughs, a harsh, twisted sound. "Fuck off, Namjoon," he drawls. "Get off your high fucking horse and really look at this shit, and I mean really. Jin and Hobi are fucking dead, they're dead as fuck, Namjoon, and I don't think you give a shit about them or me, 'cause you're so wrapped up in trying to save the precious dongsaengs that you never look-"

"Shut up," Namjoon hisses, kicking a bottle to his side. It shatters into millions of tiny shards that gleam in the light of Yoongi's cigarette, and the eldest simply quirks a brow. "Shut up, Yoongi. You don't know shit."

"You know it was our fault," the former rapper murmurs. "I didn't even get to fucking see him before he died, and we took the fucking weapons, Namjoon. I want you to acknowledge that it was our fucking fault."

"Yeah, it was," Namjoon growls. "It was our fault, so you need to own the fuck up to it."

Jimin can hear soft sobs emanating from somewhere behind him, and Taehyung presses his head into his neck, tears seeping into the fabric of his shirt. 

Yoongi laughs and stands, swaying in the wind. "God, Namjoon. What the fuck're we doing?"

"Photo," Jungkook whispers. "Take a photo."

Jimin digs through his bag to find the camera, and pulls it out just as Yoongi grins, cigarette dangling from his lips. "We're gonna fuckin' die here," he drawls, a sick, twisted grin on his face.

"Smile," Jimin murmurs to himself, aiming the camera at the elder. Beautiful destruction.

Jimin leads his party through the halls, gun clutched in his grip. He doesn't want to use it, but he will if he must.

Sure enough, one of the aptly-named Runners lunges for him, screeching nonsense. Jimin takes aim, fires, and frowns as the blood coats his white stage uniform.

Behind him, Hoseok screams, and Jimin turns to see the rapper shaking, eyes wide as he stares at the corpse. "You killed him!" 

"He was already dead," Jimin murmurs. "I just..."

"Not the time," Namjoon states, and Jimin nods, resuming his running.

The stairs may be their only option, but god, how Jimin hates them. Close quarters equals melee, and melee has a significantly higher death rate than ranged. All the same, it's their only option, so it's not like he can refuse.

"Don't die," he advises, pulling out a combat knife from his boot. He charges down the stairs, inwardly cursing at how stiff and uncomfortable his stage uniform is. What he wouldn't give for his good combat boots.

There's no zombies on the stairs, and they make it to the parking garage with surprisingly little difficulty. The parking garage itself, however, is a different matter.

Jimin swears as a group of Runners lunge at them, kicking one in the chest and shooting another in the forehead. He ducks under one, sweeping its legs out from under it and shooting it in the face, before using it to launch over another Runner and shoot it in the back of the head. "Get to the van!" he shouts, elbowing another zombie in the gut. 

His normal combat jacket is much thicker, and he really wishes he was wearing something better than this. But, well, these are the cards he's been dealt.

He shoots a zombie in the forehead, careful to turn his head away so none of its juices get in his mouth. They still get in his hair though, which is gonna be a pain in the ass.

The sound of a car revving makes him grin, and he turns to see a van plowing towards him, Taehyung's lips set in a determined frown. Jimin beams, racing closer as Jungkook slides the door open, gripping Jimin's wrist and hauling him inside. 

"Nice job, Tae," he laughs as Jungkook shuts the door behind him. 

"You look like I actually ran you over," Taehyung teases, the glint in his eyes showing his genuine delight at Jimin's safe return. 

"Where's our family?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin has to resist the urge to strangle him in a hug. 

"Don't worry!" Taehyung beams, flashing the elder a thumbs-up in the rear-view mirror. "Right now, they're on a plane to America! All of our families, actually!"

"Thank you," Seokjin murmurs, and Taehyung laughs, boxy grin growing.

"It's my job," he replies. "What kinda apocalypse-prepper would I be if I didn't prepare?"

Hoseok screams as a corpse flies across the windshield, but Taehyung doesn't even bat an eye. "How's Yoongi doing back there?" he asks, and Jimin glances at the still-unconscious rapper.

"Still outta it," he replies, and Taehyung sighs.

"Shoulda known," he groans, and Namjoon, seated in the passenger's seat, nearly wrenches the wheel out of Taehyung's hands as he drives over two more zombies.

"Stop running over people!" he shouts, and Taehyung sighs, casting a longing glance into the rear-view mirror.

"Ah, Jiminie, can you tell me that story from when you and Namjoon went out on a hunt?" he asks, and Jimin laughs, lips curling into a smile. He loves that one.

"I mean, you know it," he replies. "Hyung was so cool, Tae. I mean, it's not every day that one of the coolest people in the world shoots twenty zombies right in front of you and joins you on a thirty-minute sprint through the city. Though him knowing how to hot-wire motorbikes was really impressive, too."

"Go on," Taehyung hums, a delighted smile crossing his face as yet another zombie turns into a smoothie on the windshield. Sadistic.

"Well, you tell me one," Jimin sighs, and next to him, Hoseok looks like he'd really rather die. "What about the time Namjoon nearly shot Jin?"

"That was great," Taehyung laughs, and Seokjin shoots Namjoon a betrayed look. "He didn't announce himself, so Namjoon turned and shot, but since he couldn't aim to save his life, he just shot Jin's bag of groceries. Jin was honestly more pissed about losing the miraculously-good eggs than almost being shot, though."

"You guys are insane," Hoseok breathes, and Jimin's almost certain he's going to hurl. "Talking about death so casually..."

"You'll have to learn it too," Taehyung states, voice going cold. "We can't protect you all the time."

"He's right," Jimin sighs. "Tae, d'ya know where we can pick up some more guns and ammo?"

"I could use some more for Castor and Pollux..." Taehyung muses. "Sure. But do you really think it's safe yet? People haven't passed the looting phase yet."

"We've got guns," Jimin growls, voice steely-cold. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"What the fuck!" Seokjin shouts. "We are not killing living people!"

"Like I said," Jimin murmurs, "wouldn't be the first time."

He can still remember the corpses' lifeless eyes, still remembers the way Namjoon lowered the gun with a schooled nonchalance on his face, still remembers how Seokjin shouted at him, still remembers how they couldn't believe what they'd become.

(Still remembers the way Namjoon cried that night when he thought nobody was watching, gripped his hair as though it'd tether him, silent sobs wracking his too-skinny frame)

"Shit," Namjoon breathes, eyes widening as he processes. 

"Language," Seokjin mumbles, though he's more focused on helping an unconscious Yoongi. "Yah, Namjoon, what happened?"

"Yoongi-hyung watched... I got there right as one of the zombies took a bite out of Sejin-ssi's neck..." Namjoon murmurs. "He just... his eyes went wide and he whispered something about Jin-hyung before he passed out-"

Taehyung swerves wildly, curses slipping out between his teeth. "Fuck," he hisses. "We have to get the fuck out of Seoul."

"Why?" Hoseok asks, confusion evident.

"Lots of zombies," Taehyung growls, pulling up outside their dorm. "Grab a bag of stuff and change. Jimin, pack for Yoongi."

"Don't you already have yours packed?" Jimin asks, sliding open the door. "I think I can fit a few extra pairs of clothes in mine-"

"Razors and deodorant," Taehyung mumbles. "We need as many of those as we can grab."

Jimin races into the house, backpack slung over his shoulders and jacket already half-off. "Change," he seconds, gesturing to a frozen Hoseok and Seokjin. "Kook, come with me."

He changes into a comfy pair of cargo pants and a soft shirt, stowing another change of clothes (mostly underwear, honestly) in his bag. "I'll help you pack," he smiles, and Jungkook replies in kind, a soft, bunny-like grin on his face. 

He searches Jungkook's drawers, eventually coming up with two pairs of dark pants, a black long-sleeve, and a black tank. "Dark colors are just easier," he defends, and Jungkook nods, shoving the clothes into his backpack. "Grab some pictures, and one or two light personal items. I mean, my camera isn't that light, but I'm used to carrying it, so. Well."

"You're really prepared, hyung," Jungkook breathes, and Jimin grins. 

"You guys ready?" Taehyung asks, poking his head into the room. "Ah, Jiminie, you don't need to pack for Yoongi. Namjoon's already doing it."

"Good," Jimin sighs. "Kook, you ready?"

"We should get him a knife..." Taehyung muses. "Ah, Jiminie, I'm gonna go grab the knives from the kitchen. Don't wait up!"

"Bye, Tae," Jimin beams, watching the younger disappear. 

"Hyung..." Jungkook whispers, and Jimin can hear the faint tremor in his voice. "Hyung, I just..."

Jimin wraps him in a hug, pressing Jungkook's face into his shoulder. "It's alright to be scared," he soothes, and Jungkook sobs, well-built frame shaking in his grasp. "I was scared too."

"But you and Taehyung look so confident..." Jungkook trails off. "How are you not scared anymore?"

"Because we're still acting like we have nothing to lose," Jimin admits. "We still act like we're alone, just the two of us. But I think that deep down, I'm terrified."

He places a hand on Jungkook's shoulder and smiles his most reassuring smile. "Though I'm still your hyung, and I'm gonna act like it."

Screams ring through the air, and Jimin curses, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and gesturing for Jungkook to do the same. He yanks Pestilence out of his pocket and races around the corner, gun aimed at whatever threat decided to make itself known - even if the others are mostly older, he still feels like their hyung, and he won't let anything happen to them - and fiery determination in his gaze.

But no.

It's Yoongi.

The second-eldest has his arms wrapped around Hoseok, face buried in his chest. Sobs wrack his lithe frame, and as Jimin draws closer, he can hear some of what he's saying.

"It's not me," he whispers, "I j-just- I- and we- y-you're okay, I just-"

"What's going on?" Seokjin gasps, eyes wide under his dark hair. "Yoongi, what's-"

"I saw him die, hyung," Yoongi mumbles. "I saw them bite his neck and drag him away, and I heard his screams..."

Taehyung and Jimin exchange looks, since they most definitely didn't describe it that way. Or at all. Definitely not at all.

"We need to go," Jimin sighs. "Find somewhere safe to hide out for a few days."

"We should be doing more," Namjoon bitterly remarks. "We can't just-"

"Not doing anything," Yoongi growls. "We're keeping Hobi safe."

"Agreed," Jimin and Taehyung immediately state, and Jungkook slowly nods next to him. 

"You can't just protect me like this," Hoseok frowns. "You're dooming the rest of the world to save just us."

"Yep," Jimin nods. "That's what we're doing. Right, Yoongi?"

"Not letting that happen again," Yoongi mumbles. "Not if there's anything I can do to stop it."

"Hyung..." Hoseok trails off, eyes going sad. "We..."

"Tae, where should we go?" Jimin asks, and Taehyung grins.

"You don't remember it?" Taehyung smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just outside Seoul. The little house by the river."

Seokjin's shaking form, shirt clutched to his chest as Namjoon stares at the two bodies, expression empty. "Namjoon!"

Taehyung doesn't know why they left.

Taehyung won't ever know why they left.

So Jimin grins and bears it, nodding at his best friend's suggestion. What else can he do?

(A dirty word, dirty possibility that almost happened to their eldest, never happened, almost happened)

"You can't tell anyone," Seokjin forces out, gaze dull. "Joon shot them 'cause they tried to steal our things. That's the truth."

"I..."

"Hyung, this isn't okay. I..."

"That's the place where Joon..."

"They almost hurt you, hyung. It's too close. I can't... I wasn't fast enough."

"The place where Jin..."

"You were, Joon. It's alright. I'm fine, see?"

"The place where we..."

Dressing up a dead body, and Jimin almost feels bad for it, but he doubts Taehyung and Jungkook would be okay with seeing it the way it was. Then again, that's if Namjoon and Seokjin would allow that.

"Where they..."

Seokjin's dull expression as he throws the torn clothes on the fire imprints on the back of his eyelids, and Jimin hates the way he looks. Hates how helpless he feels.

He forces it down, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yeah. Alright. Okay."

"You alright?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin nods, a forced, wooden thing. 

"I'm fine," he forces out. "I'm going down to the van. Kook, Hobi, can you come with?"

"You sure?" Seokjin asks, and Jimin nods, already heading for the door.

"I'm always alright," he smiles. "Guys?"

The two race over to him, falling in-step with the dancer as they head for the stairs. Jimin can feel Jungkook's wide-eyed gaze on him, and it's halfway down the stairs that the youngest finally speaks.

"What happened at the house, Jimin?" he murmurs, and Jimin sighs.

"It's... it wasn't good," he replies. "Tae doesn't... he doesn't know. Yoongi doesn't know. He suspected, I think, but doesn't know."

"Did someone die?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin laughs.

"You could say that," he barks, voice rising in pitch as he continues. "Someone died, but it wasn't one of us."

He throws his backpack into the driver's seat and opens the door, gesturing for the two to enter in the backseat. Rifling through his bag, he pulls out his camera, and gestures for the two to slide in.

"Smile!" he chirps, and the two happily comply. 

Chapter Text

The soft pitter-patter of the rain soothes his frayed nerves, and Jimin leans against the doorframe, watching the droplets swirl down the path. It's a stormy day, bordering on a typhoon, but he doesn't want to head inside.

He doesn't want to leave this peaceful moment.

This is what he sang about - love, the serendipity of a fleeting moment. This is what he sang of, and he steps out into the torrent, finally letting hot tears flow. 

His salty tears mix with the pure water, and he stares into the sky, a weak smile on his face. It's peaceful. It's raining.

"Looks like we had the same idea."

Namjoon wraps his arms around his eldest dongsaeng, a soft smile on his face. Rain rolls off his newly-violet hair, and he fingers a lock of Jimin's own blond. "You want an umbrella?" he asks, and Jimin shakes his head. "Yeah, I get it. I wouldn't want one either. Just figured I should offer."

"It's wet," Jimin states, and Namjoon grins, dimples evident. "It's really wet."

"Isn't it great?" Namjoon hums, extending a hand. He smiles as a raindrop lands in his palm, and Jimin watches more and more water plaster his long hair to his face. It's too long. All of theirs' are. "You get why I come out here?"

"It's a nice place to cry," Jimin smiles. "And it's pretty."

"Isn't it beautiful?" Namjoon beams. "The world ends, and the water keeps going. Gives you hope, doesn't it?"

"I don't think the world ended," Jimin replies. "Not really. It's just... on pause for a little while."

"That's a nice way to look at things," Namjoon muses. "I mean, it's not like anything's really ended, 'sides humanity. And, eventually, all the zombies'll be gone, so then we'll be able to live again. Not have to carry weapons everywhere."

He twirls one of his twin guns around his finger, lost in thought. "I feel like I should name them..."

"Why not after one of those books you're reading?" Jimin suggests. "The one about that guy and the boat and the sheep?"

"Jason and the Argonauts?" Namjoon asks, and Jimin nods. "That's... that's a good idea. I could name them after the Dioscuri."

"The Dio-what-now?" Jimin asks, confusion evident.

Namjoon smiles, water dripping off the tip of his nose. "The Dioscuri are two twins from Ancient Greek mythology. One of them, Pollux, was immortal, and the other, Castor, was mortal. When Castor was killed in battle, Pollux shared his immortality with his brother, so they spent half their time in the Underworld, and half their time on Olympus."

"That's cool," Jimin breathes. "Wow, hyung. How do you know this?"

"I found a book of myths in the house," Namjoon replies. "It seems like it was... the father was a historian. It's in depth, and really impressive."

"Can you read it to me sometime?" Jimin asks, and Namjoon quirks a brow.

"Specifically read it to you?" he prods, and Jimin nods. 

"Your voice is soothing," Jimin states, shivering slightly as the cold seeps into his skin. "I wanna listen to you read."

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head and spraying water droplets around him. "It's not that impressive, Jimin," he grins, wiping a bit of water off his face. "It's just my voice."

"Lots of people have great voices," Jimin simply replies. "Like Shawn Mendes. Or Alec Benjamin."

"Yah! What are you doing?" Seokjin shouts, and Jimin and Namjoon turn to see the eldest in the door, irritation evident. "You're soaked! Get back inside!"

"But we're alright!" Jimin protests, before sneezing.

"Aish," Seokjin groans. "Just get back inside!"

Namjoon smiles, wrapping an arm around Jimin and shepherding him back inside. Once inside, Jimin races for his camera at the door and aims it at the pair, Seokjin already rubbing at Namjoon's hair with a towel.

"Smile!" Jimin chirps, and Seokjin and Namjoon pause, turning to beam at the camera. 

The first day is the most dangerous.

Jimin keeps his gun close, but his friends closer, and they barrel through the streets at a speed that's both bullshit and illegal. 

Well. So is half the stuff in the apocalypse. This is simply... training. 

"Jimin!" Taehyung shouts from the passenger's seat, pointing at a small store on the side of the road. "Gas! Food!"

Jimin grins, pulling in and angling his head in an attempt to ask Namjoon to hop out with them. The leader complies, and soon enough, Jimin and Taehyung are scouring the store while Namjoon watches the car and fills it with gas. 

"Cookies..." Taehyung grins, staring at the bounty on the shelves. "Fuck, Chim, I forgot what full shelves looked like."

"Time to forget again," Jimin gruffly replies, shoving whatever he can into a bag. "Make sure to grab some bleach and portable chargers. We need to get as much power as we can before we get to the mountain house."

"You're no fun," Taehyung pouts, shoving whatever he can into a few bags. "Duct tape again?"

"Duct tape again," Jimin confirms, shoving all the rolls they have into his bag. "You just don't understand the wonders of duct tape, Tae-Tae."

"I understand that you're loopy," Taehyung snarks, but smiles nonetheless. 

They run outside as fast as they can, shoving the bags into the back and taking off at top speed. They have a few canisters full of gas, and Jimin prays it'll be enough. 

It has to be.

"Shouldn't we do a VLive or something?" Hoseok pipes up, and Jimin and Taehyung exchange looks. "To let people know we're okay, I mean."

"Use Namjoonie's phone," Jimin replies. "It'll be better than what we used it for last time, anyways."

"What did you use it for last time?" Jungkook asks, leaning between the seats.

"Not what you're thinking," Taehyung grins. "Last time, we got caught in Seoul, and Namjoon threw it at a zombie's head. It missed, and we never saw it again."

"Better than I thought," Yoongi grumbles. "Start the VLive, Hope."

Hoseok nods, tapping a few things on his phone before raising it in the air. "Hi, ARMY!" he chirps, and the other four members in-frame wave. "Don't worry! We're all safe and sound!"

"It's the end of the world, Hobi," Jimin drawls, grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Nothing about this is safe and or sound."

"We're safe and sound!" Hoseok repeats, heart-shaped smile firmly in place. "No matter how much of a downer Jiminie is being!"

"To all of you outside Korea, please stay safe," Namjoon grins, and Jungkook nods next to him. "For those of you who are in Korea, fighting, and please, please stay safe. We'll make sure to stay safe too, since that's only fair."

"Since that's only fair?" Hoseok laughs. "You sound so nonchalant about us dying."

"Nobody's dying," Seokjin huffs. "Not while we have Mister Stabby."

"It's a pocketknife, Jin-hyung, it can't do anything-"

"Mister Stabby," Seokjin repeats, expression emotionless. "We have Mister Stabby."

"We also have Pestilence, and the Dioscuri," Jimin pipes up, and Seokjin sighs.

"Who needs those if we have Mister Stabby?" Jungkook adds, evidently enjoying this. "Hoarde of zombies? Mister Stabby."

"End of the world?" Hoseok grins. "Mister Stabby."

"Can that needs opened but your last can opener ran out around Wonju?" Taehyung laughs. "Mister Stabby."

"You threw it out a window, Taehyung, don't blame that on the can opener-"

"Anyways, we're doing fine!" Hoseok chirps. "Stay safe, ARMY! Fighting!"

He ends the broadcast, and Jimin sighs, head hitting the steering wheel repeatedly as he tries to reconcile these balls of sunshine with the hardened hunters he knows.

Eventually, Taehyung grabs the back of his jacket and hauls him up, gaze uncharacteristically stern. "Don't try to treat them like they're ours," he warns. "I know you're doing that. Don't."

"It's kinda hard not to," Jimin mumbles. "Not when I've spent the last four years wishing I'd done something different."

They pull into a deserted motel, and Jimin and Taehyung both know this place is safe until around six tomorrow morning. Might as well make camp here.

"Pair up," Jimin mumbles, pulling on his backpack. "And take advantage of running water and electricity while we still have it."

"Why're we here?" Jungkook asks. "It's not late yet."

"This place we know is safe," Taehyung replies. "At least until six tomorrow."

"Are we just going with what we know?" Namjoon asks, and Jimin nods.

"But do we really know anything?" Jimin muses. "I mean, this all started a day early. This wasn't supposed to happen-"

"Fuck!"

It's the sound of Hoseok's screams that alerts them, and Jimin pulls out his pistol, aiming at the corner. Hoseok and Jungkook come racing towards them, a group of zombies hot on their heels, and fuck if Jimin doesn't have time for this.

He shoots them in the head, one-two-three before kicking a fourth into the car and stabbing it in the head. Next to him, Taehyung empties clip after clip into the hoarde, Seokjin and Yoongi swapping out his cartridges once he runs empty. They work well in tandem, a partnership born decades ago but sharpened to deadly accuracy by necessity. 

"Runners on your seven!" Jimin shouts, since Taehyung loves to use technical jargon like that after a war movie marathon they had years ago. Taehyung nods, bang-bang-bang ringing through the air as he takes down the three zombies rapidly approaching, and Jimin doesn't need to be told to know what comes next. 

He backs up until they stand back to back, emptying clip after clip into the former hotel residents. Taehyung's baritone rumbles into his ears, murmured instructions that he automatically follows (what else can he do?).

Finally (finally!) the last stragglers are dead, and Jimin turns back to the van, smile wide. "Is everyone okay?" he asks, and Seokjin nods. 

"Hyung..." Jungkook breathes, gaze landing on Hoseok.

Hoseok, who stares at a rotting bite on his ankle.

Jimin immediately springs into action, pinning him to the ground. "Tae, grab the kit!" he shouts, pulling their assigned Emergency Amputation Knife™ out of his backpack. "Hobi, don't scream."

He shoves a wad of fabric into the dancer's mouth and raises the knife high, breathing carefully even. Next to him, Seokjin has his hands over Jungkook's eyes, and Namjoon watches, horrified.

The knife comes down, and Hoseok screams.

It's muffled by the cloth, to be sure, but it's painful. Painful to the point of nearly causing Jimin pain to hear it, and he knows it's not just for the (overwhelming) physical pain.

Hoseok's a dancer.

And Jimin just took his leg off at the knee.

He removes the gag, and Hoseok sobs, tears running down his face as blood spills on the pavement. Taehyung's already there, and Jimin takes the needle and thread he offers.

Thank god he's seen worse. 

"What the fuck," Seokjin breathes. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-"

"I'm sorry," Jimin whispers, and he's relieved to see Hoseok's eyes are already shut. "Fuck, Hobi, I'm sorry-"

"You just cut off his leg," Yoongi whispers. "What the fuck."

"It's not a death sentence," Taehyung mumbles. "He has a chance now."

"You cut off his fucking leg!" Yoongi shouts, striding forwards to grip Jimin's collar. "What the fuck! He's a dancer!"

"T-They bit him," Jimin gasps, eyes wide with terror. "I-I had to, Yoongi-"

"We've seen others missing a leg," Taehyung interjects, striding forwards to separate the pair. "He'll be okay. I promise."

"Who?" Yoongi demands, and Jimin's gaze goes distant.

"...Beomgyu-ah," he finally replies. "He had a mechanical leg that worked just fine. I know we can find something-"

"That's what you're pinning our hopes on?" Yoongi laughs, fury evident. "You're pinning our hopes on a mechanical fucking leg? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"That's enough," Namjoon snaps, shoving Yoongi back. "I don't like it either, hyung. Fuck, I hate it. But Jimin just saved Hobi-hyung's life, and I'd rather have him missing a leg than missing his life, wouldn't you?"

"We need to go," Jimin murmurs, scooping Hoseok into his arms. "Tae, can you watch him in the back? Please?"

"Are we just glossing over this?" Yoongi laughs, voice bordering on hysteric. "He's missing a leg!"

"He's not dead," Seokjin breathes. "That's something."

"Are you fucking-"

"Enough," Namjoon repeats, climbing into the van. "Time to go."

They pile into the van, and Jimin tries valiantly to ignore Yoongi's dagger eyes that glare at him from the backseat. Dagger eyes that, granted, he deserves, but. Well. 

(The least of the evils)

Chapter Text

"Fuck you!"  Yoongi shrieks, bending nearly double as his lips twitch into a smile. "You don't know a fucking thing, Namjoon!"

"Yoongi," Namjoon sighs, eyes horribly pained. "Please, please don't do this. Not today."

"You know whose fucking fault it was?" Yoongi growls. "Who tripped?"

Namjoon's expression shutters, old guilt the only emotion left on his face. "You think I don't know?"

"You two, enough," Seokjin snaps, placing a warning hand on Yoongi's chest. "It wasn't anyone's fault. There was nothing we could have done."

"Shut up," Yoongi spits. "You don't- you don't know fuckin' anything. You weren't there, not like me and Joon and the maknaes, 'cause you were off doing fuck-knows-what while Hobi was dying-"

"Stop blaming everyone else!" Namjoon shouts, and Seokjin places a hand on his chest as well. "Where were you, Yoongi? Where were you when Hobi was-"

"That's not the same thing and you know it!" Yoongi roars, and Jimin stands and crosses the roof to wrap his arms around Yoongi's waist. "Jimin, let me go!"

"You don't mean this," Jimin mumbles into the elder's hoodie. "I know you don't. You don't-"

"I do," Yoongi growls. "Now let me go, Jimin."

"You don't," Jimin insists. "I know you don't-"

Pain arcs through his cheek and he staggers back, clutching his jaw with wide eyes. Yoongi charges at Namjoon, only to be stopped by the combined forces of Seokjin and Jungkook, the pair of them tackling him to the ground. "What are you doing?" Seokjin demands, fury flashing in his eyes. "Min Yoongi! Answer me!"

"I'm doing what I have to," Yoongi growls. "Because Hobi's dead, Jin! He's fucking dead!"

Yoongi's tone and words don't go unnoticed, and Seokjin's eyes narrow as he stares at the eldest rapper. "Yes," he replies, voice even. "He's dead. But would he want us to lose ourselves? No."

"Who are you to say that?" Yoongi growls. "Who the fuck are you to assume that?"

"I'm his friend!" Seokjin counters. "We were all friends, Yoongi! You didn't have a monopoly on him! You don't have a monopoly on hurting!"

"If you care, then act like it!" Yoongi roars. "You haven't cried for him! You don't know what it's like to feel like your world is over!"

"The world is over," Seokjin replies, "but ours doesn't have to be."

Yoongi raises his fist, but he stops when Namjoon starts to speak. "I miss you," the rapper murmurs, staring at the ground. "I really miss you. I just... I feel like I lost you and Hobi back then, not just him. And you two were my best friends. I just... I don't know what to do without you two. I'm losing you."

Yoongi's expression is dull, dead, and emotionless. "Sorry for you," he drawls, and Namjoon's expression drains of emotion. "Wish I could say I felt the same."

Namjoon inhales, frame shaking. "Hoseok would be ashamed," he simply states, and Yoongi's lips curl in fury. "I know I am. I don't recognize you anymore."

Yoongi drives his fist into Namjoon's eye in response.

Namjoon hits the ground, and Jimin scrambles for his camera, glad to see it isn't broken. Behind him, Jungkook's sobbing, Taehyung's arms around his waist, and Jimin silently thanks his friend for helping him. 

"Don't you dare say that!" Yoongi spits, driving his leg into Namjoon's stomach. "Don't talk like you knew him!"

"You're grieving," Namjoon forces out. "I-It's alright."

"Why do you have to be like this?" Yoongi asks, voice horribly broken. "You're always taking the fucking high ground, acting all holier-than-thou. Why the fuck d'ya have to act like this all the time, Namjoon?"

"It's not an act," Namjoon wheezes. "It's not-"

"Don't lie," Yoongi growls. "Don't lie to me, Kim Namjoon. I know that's not you."

There's a moment of silence where nobody speaks. A moment, where all that exists is the ambient noise of the end of the world.

"I don't know anymore," Namjoon whispers. "I guess I've been acting... I've been acting for so long that I forgot how to not act."

"Yeah," Yoongi drawls. "Fuckin' knew it."

Jimin raises his camera and forces a smile. "Smile."

Hoseok's still out of it, thank god. Jimin doesn't want to explain this to him when he wakes up.

Taehyung and Yoongi haven't left his side, either. The three of them are all curled together on a king-sized bed, all asleep, and Jimin thanks the stars that they're able to get some rest. 

Jungkook and Seokjin are asleep as well (in a different room) so he and Namjoon are up on watch. Namjoon's incredibly on edge, knee bouncing as he stares into the distance, and Jimin's watching him.

After all, he can hear them before he'll see them. Eyes are superfluous.

"Do you think he'll forgive me?" Jimin finally asks. 

Namjoon turns to him, bright eyes gleaming in the faint light. "I don't know," he finally replies. "I just don't know. There's not a clear-cut answer, Jiminie, and what I think it'll come down to is whether or not Hoseok values dancing more than he values his life."

"Dancing is his life, though," Jimin mumbles. "There's not... there's not a good answer. I hurt him."

"You saved him," Namjoon counters, and Jimin blinks at him, confused. 

"I ruined his life," Jimin mutters. "I cut off his leg."

"He's alive though," Namjoon points out. "That's something."

"We don't have painkillers," Jimin muses. "He's just gonna have to push through it for... weeks? Shit. We need to get moving as soon as we can, and try not to wake him."

"Probably," Namjoon hums, gaze falling to his watch. "Hey, it's time to switch out with Tae and Yoongi-hyung."

"And we're actually gonna switch?" Jimin asks, quirking a brow.

"Yep," Taehyung interjects, raising a hand to pull Jimin into a side hug. "Happy two in the morning, Chim. Go get some sleep."

"You too," Yoongi commands, and Namjoon smiles, sheepish. "Neither of you were gonna switch out with us, were you?"

"Nope," Jimin hums, relenting. "Joon, you're gonna sleep with Jin and Kook, right?"

"Yeah," Namjoon mumbles, pushing a bit of hair out of his face. "G'night, Jimin."

He retreats into the room they share, the door clicking shut behind him. Taehyung nudges Jimin into their room with one hand, mischief glinting in his gaze. "Go get Hobi," he hums, and Jimin feels that familiar guilt swamp him.

Hello, survivor's guilt. Short time no see.

He shrugs off his thick jacket and places it in his bag, collapsing fully-clothed onto the bed. He buries his face in Hoseok's hair - it smells like lavender - and pulls the elder closer, eyes sliding shut.

Hopefully he hasn't made everything worse.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I'm really, really sorry, hyung. I just... I wish this hadn't happened. I wish I hadn't messed up everything again. I wish you hadn't died the first time."

A tear slides out of his eye and lands on the bed, and he links his leg with Hoseok's good one, combat boots likely leaving dirty smudges on the bed. "I'm not leaving you again," he promises, words slurred by exhaustion. "No matter what you say."

He falls asleep, and fails to dream.

Surprisingly, he wakes up in the back of a van.

His limbs are still intertwined with Hoseok's, though they're in a different position, with Jimin basically lying on top of the elder. Hoseok has a blissful smile on his face, and Jimin knows it well - somebody found some painkillers. 

He's seen it more times than he cares to admit. 

He pushes himself to a seated position, rubbing his eyes lazily as he scans the van. Namjoon and Yoongi are curled up together in the row in front - and wow, Jimin wants to photograph this - and Taehyung uses Jungkook as a teddy bear in the front. Seokjin's driving, and he presses a finger to his lips upon seeing Jimin's awake.

He should go up and help the eldest. Really, he should.

(He snaps a photo of Seokjin and Yoongi sleeping anyways)

Once he's done that, he crawls over the seats with his backpack and plops into the passenger seat, eyes glinting as he watches Seokjin drive. "Do you think Yoongi will kill me if I show him the picture?" Jimin asks, turning the polaroid in Seokjin's direction.

"Probably not," Seokjin hums. "It's a good picture."

Jimin preens, sliding the polaroid into the pocket of his dirty jeans. Seokjin wrinkles his nose, glaring at Jimin as though he's in some way personally offended him, and waves a hand to indicate his jeans. 

"You stink," the eldest states, and Jimin bursts out laughing.

"This isn't even close to stink, Seokjin," Jimin grins, and Seokjin frowns, reaching up to smack the back of his head. "What? It's true!"

"Shut up," Yoongi groans, and Jimin can hear fabric rustling as the rapper presumably pulls Namjoon closer. "He's finally out of it."

Jimin grins, eyes gleaming with mischief as he stares at Seokjin. "I have a marker," he states, and Seokjin grins in reply.

His chosen targets are Taehyung and Jungkook, for the sole reason that they're unlikely to kill him. Well, that's not true for Jungkook, but Jimin's stronger now, so it shouldn't be a problem, right?

(Right?)

Ha. No.

He's halfway through writing "TAEKOOK 4 LYFE" on Jungkook's forehead when the younger grabs his wrist and slams him into the seat, pinning his arm behind him and twisting it painfully. "Ow," he groans, fake-trying his damndest to escape Jungkook's grip. He could escape in a heartbeat, of course - Jungkook taught him and Taehyung how - but he decides to play along. "Ow, ow, Kook, lemme go-"

"Nope," Jungkook beams. "Not until you've paid for what you've done."

"Kook!" Jimin whines, and Taehyung laughs into his hands. 

"Yah, Jungkook," Seokjin laughs, a contented grin on his face. "Let him go, okay?"

Jungkook releases his grip, and Jimin scrambles back into the front seat, immediately relaxing into its cushions. "You're painful," he sighs, rolling his arm in a slow circle.

"Shut up," Yoongi repeats. "Joon's still sleeping."

"That's his problem," Jungkook dryly replies. "Wake up, hyung."

Namjoon's head pokes over the seat, hair messy and eyes half-lidded as he rubs away sleep. "Why didn't you guys wake me up?" he asks, crawling away from a disgruntled Yoongi, who grabs his jacket in vain. "I could've helped."

"Kook helped me carry you guys out to the car," Seokjin laughs. "You shoulda seen it. He carried you like a baby."

"You're heavy," Jungkook complains. "Your arms and legs are so long, hyung. You're like linguini."

"I'm not linguini!" Namjoon protests, and Yoongi's head pops up as well.

"You are," the eldest rapper grumbles. "Hobi still asleep?"

"We found some painkillers in a room," Seokjin states. "I just... that's not the only thing we found."

"Did you find one of them?" Jimin whispers, and Seokjin shakes his head.

"Dead body," the eldest mumbles. "OD."

"Oh," Jimin simply replies, gaze flitting to the road. "Okay."

"He's still out?" Taehyung asks, and Namjoon nods, climbing over the seats to pull Hoseok's head onto his lap. 

"That's a good thing, right?" the youngest rapper asks, gaze flitting to Hoseok's stump.

There is no way Jimin's ever going to get used to saying that.

Well. It's not like it's his first time seeing someone with a stump, but Hoseok... 

He's still not used to seeing Hoseok, period.

Does that make it better or worse, then?

They drive for the next eight hours, and occupy themselves with inane games and casual banter. Eight hours specifically, since around four in the afternoon, Hoseok wakes up.

Taehyung's halfway through a story about how Jungkook managed to get covered in cow fluids despite there being no cows when Namjoon's eyes widen, and he gestures frantically, tapping Yoongi's shoulder as quickly as he can.

"Mmm..." the dancer groans, and Jimin fucking vaults over the seats to sit next to Hoseok, running his fingers through his hair. "My leg hurts..."

Jimin's heart shatters in his chest.

"I know," Namjoon soothes. "How do you feel other than that?"

Hoseok lets out a heartbreaking whine, one hand reaching in the general direction of his leg. "It really hurts," he whispers, and Jimin's heart hurts.

"I know," Namjoon repeats. 

Hoseok blinks once, twice, the bleariness of painkillers receding from his vision. "Ow, ow," he groans, throwing his head back into Namjoon's hand. "It hurts, it really hurts, Joon-"

He pushes himself up, propping himself up with shaking arms. "What happened?" he whispers, and Namjoon immediately slides closer, allowing Hoseok to rest his head on his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"You're okay," Namjoon assures him. "You're gonna be okay, I promise."

Hoseok's gaze slides along his leg, and down to where it ends. To where it ends.

"What... where's my leg?" he whispers, and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut. "Where's my leg?"

"I'm sorry," Namjoon murmurs, and Hoseok screams, eyes widening as tears stream down his face.

"No!" he shouts, terror evident in his gaze. "No, no, no no no-"

"I'm sorry," Namjoon repeats, and Hoseok wails, rolling over to slam his fists into Namjoon's chest. 

"Why!" Hoseok sobs. "Why, why, why..."

Jimin can't do this.

He reaches for the box on the floor and opens it, withdrawing one of the syringes inside. There's three left... it'll have to be enough.

He taps the bubbles to the top and squeezes out the air before plunging the needle into Hoseok's wrist. Hoseok's still incoherent, sobbing nonsense into Namjoon's chest, and Jimin watches as he slowly relaxes, eyes sliding shut.

Only then does he cry.

"I'm sorry," the former dancer sobs, burying his face in his hands. "Hobi, Hobi, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

They drive on without a word.

Chapter Text

The end comes quietly, as it always does. 

They haven't seen any zombies in upwards of a year, and Jimin's glad to say it's been over a month since he last had to use Mercy. Their animal farm is coming along well, and Jimin dances in their massive, sunlit living room each and every day.

Sometimes, Taehyung will paint him, Jimin's fluid movements rendered in watercolors. Every so often, he'll steal Jimin's polaroid camera and photograph him, or Jungkook cooking, or some other horribly domestic activity that means nothing in the grand scheme of things, but is a miracle simply for existing.

Jungkook also paints, and Jimin's lost count of the number of times he's had to scrub paint out of the walls or their white shag carpet that he refuses to let anyone walk on with muddy boots. The mud is mostly tracked in by their resident animal expert, Taehyung, as Jungkook usually runs down to the nearby river to grab the day's water. They all have their own work boots (Taehyung's are most definitely quarantined, thanks to smelling like feces) though Jimin's don't see much use, as the only time he leaves the house is for their weekly defense practice.

He should've gone with Jungkook.

He should have gone with Jungkook.

"Have you seen Taehyung?" Jimin asks, and Jungkook's pencil stills on his sketchbook.

"No," the youngest slowly replies. "Why?"

"It's just... today is that day, y'know?" Jimin shrugs. "I was gonna make a cake."

They celebrate four holidays here: Bangtan's anniversary, Taehyung and Jungkook's birthdays, and Christmas (because Christmas). The other members' birthdays are... not mourning, but a day of remembrance.

And Taehyung forgot. 

"Did you forget too, Kook?" Jimin sighs, and Jungkook furiously shakes his head.

"That's what I was doing!" he explains, turning the sketchbook so Jimin can see. Hoseok's rendered beautifully in Jungkook's light lines, and Jimin and Taehyung smile on either side of him, with a partially-drawn figure that resembles Jungkook sitting in front of them.

Fuck. That hurts.

"Wow," Jimin breathes. "That's beautiful, Kook."

"Thank you!" Jungkook beams. "What're you doing, Jiminie?"

"I finally got around to learning Boy Meets Evil," Jimin replies. "It's actually really fun!"

"It is?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods furiously.

"I got lucky enough to find a limited edition Wings album on our supply run last month," Jimin explains. "It had a DVD with the MVs on it, and a few polaroids that I..."

Jimin pauses, running his finger along the shining counter. "I forgot how his smile looked," he admits, and Jungkook's eyes widen. "I couldn't remember exactly how it looked. I couldn't remember exactly the way his eyes would look when he smiled. I couldn't... I can't... I can't remember his voice..."

"I'm just gonna go find Taehyungie, Jiminie-hyung," Jungkook murmurs. He knows it's best to leave Jimin alone for things like this. "Don't worry about me! I'll be right back! And I'll take your gun! Mercy, right?"

The amount of false cheer is nearly sickening, but Jimin nods regardless.

He should've gone with him. 

He's frosting the cake when Taehyung returns, and Jimin should've known something was wrong. Should've known by the thud of Taehyung's work boots, should've known by the sounds of dragging.

But he's frosting the cake and taking a picture, cooing at his masterpiece when Taehyung walks in.

"Smile!" he grins, before shifting it at the last minute to capture the men who walk in.

His camera captures Taehyung's tear-stained face, and Jungkook's limp, sodden, dead body, dripping water onto the floor. 

Jimin opens his eyes to an unfamiliar roof.

He bolts to a seated position, eyes frantically flitting around the room. His jacket is haphazardly thrown over an armchair, and there's a warm presence or two in the bed next to him, but all he can think is "holy fuck I'm going to die."

"Minnie?" a familiar voice mumbles, and his gaze falls to his side, only to see Taehyung's half-lidded eyes staring back at him. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Where are we?" Jimin practically demands. The sheets feel stiff and overly-clean, and a cursory glance around him reveals he's sharing a bed with Jungkook as well. The rap line forms a pile on the other bed, with Seokjin squeezed between Namjoon and Hoseok for good measure. 

It's so domestic Jimin wants to scream.

"Another hotel," Taehyung soothes. "Don't worry, Chim."

"Nobody's on watch?" Jimin presses, and Taehyung shakes his head.

"There's a cool guy on watch," the younger replies. "We're good."

"I'll go watch," Jimin immediately states, sliding himself out from between Taehyung and Jungkook. "I've got this."

"Be careful," Taehyung mumbles. "And take Pestilence, okay?"

"I will," Jimin soothes, and Taehyung sighs, sliding over to wrap Jungkook in his arms. He pulls on his jacket and leaves, the warm June air causing it to stick to his skin, but it's comforting nonetheless.

He heads down the carpeted hallway (not before taking note of the room number) and slides down the stairway railing, emerging into the lobby with his gun raised. This seems to startle two elderly women, and he immediately lowers it, shame painting his cheeks bright red.

"You must be Park Jimin," someone calls.

Jimin wheels, gun instinctively rising as he assesses the man. Potbelly, business suit, semi-automatic... not exactly the perfect zombie hunter, but he's been surprised before. 

(He's also seen legless people before - Soobin's shining metal prosthetic the only thing keeping his hopes for Hoseok alive)

"And you are?" he asks, lowering Pestilence slowly.

The man laughs, lips curling into a smile. "Ha Chunsoo," he replies, extending one meaty hand for a handshake.

Jimin narrows his eyes, distrust evident. "Why should I trust you?" he challenges.

Chunsoo frowns, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm letting you and your friends stay in my hotel," he points out, and Jimin sighs. "Here. Let's go talk."

Wow, warning signs are flashing. Not safe not safe not safe.

Jimin follows him anyways.

"You're quite rude," Chunsoo points out, closing the door to the storage closet and leaning his full weight against it. "Here I am, letting you and your friends stay in my hotel, eating my food, and you have the gall to insinuate I'm not worthy of being trusted."

"That's the thing, isn't it?" Jimin drawls. "I honestly don't even know if you brought me in here to talk or to rape me, and you're asking me to trust you?"

Chunsoo's eyes widen, and Jimin inwardly kicks himself. Fuck's sake, not everyone has the worst intentions. 

At least, not yet.

"What kind of person do you think I am?" Chunsoo questions, and Jimin takes a step back.

Chunsoo takes a step forwards.

A meaty hand around his neck slams Jimin into the wall so hard he sees stars, and his hand tightens around his gun. Turns out Chunsoo is that kind of person, and Jimin will shoot if he has to.

"I wouldn't," Chunsoo states. "Not when I can kick you and your friends out of this place on foot."

No.

He twirls a set of car keys around his finger, and Jimin inwardly curses Taehyung's trusting nature. There are some things that even the apocalypse can't kill, and poor Taehyung's gullibility is one of them. 

"Fuck you," Jimin spits.

A hand slams into his cheek yet again, and he stares Chunsoo down, fury blazing in his eyes. "You're not gonna get away with this," he hisses. "If you hurt them, I'll fucking destroy you."

"You can try," Chunsoo smirks. "But I doubt some prissy idols will be able to overpower me."

Cold metal presses into his gut, and Jimin internally screams (he has a gun he has a gun he has a fucking gun not good) but manages to keep his expression stoic. "I can help your friend," he points out. "Hoseok, wasn't it? The one without a leg?"

Jimin squares his jaw and stares him down, determination blazing in his gaze. "What do you want," he bluntly states.

"I want you to play along," Chunsoo grins. "Play pretend. You idols are good at that, aren't you?"

"You want me to pretend to like you," Jimin flatly replies. It isn't a question.

"That'd be a good place to start," the man smiles.

No no no no no the red flags are returning in full force. 

"I won't let you touch me," Jimin hisses.

"I don't need you to let me."

Chunsoo takes a step back, and the door swings open. Then shut.

Jimin crumples to the floor, eyes widening as he comprehends what just happened.

(He doesn't want to)

Chunsoo just threatened him. Knows how to play him.

And in this moment, Jimin knows exactly what Seokjin must have felt. Knows exactly how this is going to end because fuck if he won't do everything he can to protect his family.

So he sucks it up. Holds his head high, and resigns himself to his fate.

(Just until Hoseok's better, he says. Just until Hoseok's okay)

He heads back to the room and tries not to feel the weight of Chunsoo's stare on his back.

Once he returns, he can't help but smile at the sight that greets him. Yoongi and Seokjin hold Hoseok, both blissfully peaceful in sleep. Namjoon seems to have been roped into something by Taehyung and Jungkook, based on the fact that they managed to not only get him into their bed, but that they're both attached to him like barnacles. 

"Minnie?" Taehyung mumbles, cracking one eye open to peer at the returnee. "Y'okay?"

"I'm good," Jimin lies. "Any room for me?"

Taehyung wordlessly slides over, and Jimin takes it as the invitation it is. His tiny frame fits perfectly between Taehyung and Namjoon's chests, and he tries to match his breathing with that of his sleeping leader.

He's scared.

But of course, fear has long-since become superfluous. Survival is all that matters. 

And this isn't some happy-go-lucky not your fault bullshit that people stuff down others' throats because this is his fucking fault and he knows it's going to happen, that he's gonna get fucked by some closeted gay business man who sees him as a pretty face (just like Seokjin) but this is different.

Seokjin never had the chance to say no.

Jimin has all the chances, and he's going to turn them down.

He lies there for another hour, stiff as a board, before he climbs out of bed and heads for the balcony.

(Not before snapping a polaroid of his sleeping family, though)

He has so much respect for Seokjin, honestly. There's nothing that quite compares to the way he pulled himself together, pulled them together, and made them whole.

(Then tore them apart, but, well. He couldn't control that)

He leans on the balcony, letting the wind coax his hair into knots.

(Letting the wind push away the tears on his face, then)

An old, old song comes to his lips then. Eleven years old (give or take seven) and he still remembers it. Wow.

"Caught in a lie," he hums, tracing a pattern on the railing. He doesn't remember the rest of the chorus, so he hums along as best he can, gaze pinned on the horizon.

He's scared. 

"Jimin?"

He turns, coming face-to-face with Yoongi. The rapper frowns at him upon seeing Jimin clad in all his heavy-coated glory, and wordlessly moves to stand next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Jimin inhales, lithe frame shaking as he tries to keep from crying. Yoongi definitely notices, and he pulls Jimin closer, pressing the former dancer's head onto his shoulder.

How long has it been since Yoongi acted like a hyung, he wonders.

(Not a good sign that he honestly doesn't know, is it?)

"We're safe," Yoongi assures him, and Jimin almost shakes his head because he is not safe but he stops himself at the last second.

"Mhm," he replies instead, pulling out of Yoongi's grasp. "I'm gonna go... grab some food? Do you want anything?"

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks, and Jimin pauses a moment too long before answering.

"I'm great!" he chirps, hand instinctively wrapping around Pestilence. "I'm just gonna go get some food!"

Lie.

Lie lie lie lie lie-

"Stay safe," Yoongi warns, and Jimin momentarily forgets how to breathe.

"I will," he chokes out, pulling open the door. "I'll see you soon."

Yoongi watches him go, brow furrowed and concern etched on his porcelain features.

(And really, had Yoongi followed him, things might've been different)

(Better)

As it stands, Jimin heads for the storage room.

Chunsoo smiles when he walks in, a thin, predatory thing. "So you've decided?" he asks.

Jimin ducks his head and tries not to cry, heartbreak etched on his features. "...yes."

Chapter Text

It's been almost a year, and the house still feels filled with ghosts. 

Or rather, ghost singular - everything looks the same as it did that day. The same paints strewn about. The same pristine countertops and work-boots down in the shed. 

The only difference is that this time, the paintings are different.

Even before Jungkook's body was cold, Taehyung had started to paint. Literally - placed him on the ground as one would a precious child, and made for his watercolors. 

He confessed a few months ago that he still has nightmares about Jungkook's scream, about the way the rock crumbled under his feet, about the way his red red red blood mixed with the clear water of the stream because he hit his head as he fell, about the way the polaroid camera fell out of Jimin's hands and broke, innards spilling over the hardwood.

They tiptoe around each other, a Bangtan-shaped hole in their lives. 

And it's not going to get better. Not when Taehyung drowns himself in watercolors and Jimin still goes to that ledge, imagining how Jungkook must have felt as he fell.

Not when Mercy is still broken.

And in a way, he doesn't want to fix it. Mercy as a concept is dead. Why should the gun be any different?

(But then he has to remember Jungkook's expression when Jimin shot those zombies dead, the pride in his eyes at he watched his eldest remaining hyung, and fuck if that doesn't hurt his heart beyond what he thought possible-)

He didn't even die a hero like he'd have wanted. He died because of a cliff.

He died because of rain and a fucking cliff. 

(And Hoseok died because of their own lack of response, Seokjin to coincidence, Yoongi to his own demons and Namjoon to Taehyung his own self-sacrificing nature)

Jimin never expected they'd be the last ones left. They were never supposed to be the last ones left.

He was never supposed to be the oldest.

But it's a role he's worn for three years now, will continue to wear as long as it takes because Kim Taehyung is all he fucking has left, and he's not losing him.

Even if Taehyung's only rendered in the same red watercolors he paints with, it's still something.

(Even if Jungkook's room is gathering dust, polaroids scattered over the duvet in hopes of banishing the memories along with the pain)

(Neither are gone)

He's haphazardly tinkering with his camera, trying to remember Namjoon's instructions from so long ago. Not that he actually does, but somehow, imagining Namjoon's steady hands covering his own makes it a bit easier.

It's not going well.

His gaze flits to the living room, where Taehyung renders yet another painting in angry red lines, shades bleeding into each other as he tries to capture Jungkook yet again. They have hundreds of those paintings, and Jimin can't bear to get rid of even one.

So instead, he does something he hasn't done since Jungkook died.

He crosses the room, stopping in front of Taehyung's easel and pulling out their old CD player. Wings is still inside, and he simply presses play, eyes sliding shut.

Taehyung switches canvases.

His body moves to the beat without him having to think, Hoseok's voice filling the room. It's almost painful, hearing it, and the feeling of his feet sliding on hardwood is the only thing keeping him grounded.

He loses himself in dance, just as he always has. 

When the song ends, he stops. Pauses.

Blood Sweat & Tears starts.

He throws himself into the choreography wholeheartedly, trying to ignore it. Ignore Jungkook's voice, Yoongi-Namjoon-Hoseok rapping, Taehyung's confident singing, Seokjin's perfect harmony-

(They were young, wild, and free)

He stops, frozen as the song ends. Allows himself to imagine the roaring crowd, the light show unfolding in front of him, the others around him-

His eyes open to an empty room, pale light streaming through the windows and cold wood on his bare feet.

Taehyung's brush flies over the canvas, watercolors dripping into each other and rendering Jimin in a rainbow of colors.

Begin starts.

And Jimin's leg comes up, kicking the CD player to the side so that it slams into the wall, mechanical innards spilling out over the ground. And yet the voice continues, keeps playing, and he drives his foot into it again, tears streaming down his face.

Again, again, the pain shoots through his leg, the fragility of his brittle bones threatening to snap. He swings his leg around again, sending the player skittering across the floor, and it hits the wall with a sickening thud. 

He can'tcan'tcan't-

"You make me begin-"

He slams his fist onto it with a primal scream, jagged metal slicing through porcelain skin. Drops of red red red (red like Jungkook's blood, red like Namjoon's blood, red like Hoseok's blood) spill down his hands, broken memories mingling with broken skin.

The music stops. 

And Jimin sits back on his heels and sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks and stinging pain shooting through his hands. 

Slowly, silently, in the background, Taehyung raises his hands, thumbs touching pointer fingers akin to a camera.

"You don't have to smile, Jiminie. I'm here."

Park Jimin is dead, and the world killed him.

Perhaps he died back with Hoseok. Perhaps he died along with him, back with the eldest dancer, back with the screams and his tears and the blood dripping onto smooth white tile-

Or perhaps he died with Seokjin. Perhaps he died that day in the warehouse, that day where Seokjin, their eldest, their glue, fell to the hoard, bled out in Namjoon's arms, a sad, heartbreakingly sad smile on his face-

Or perhaps he died with Yoongi. Perhaps he died when he succumbed to his demons, leapt out of the train and hit the ground running, well-worn sneakers hitting gravel as he raced towards certain death-

Or perhaps he died back when Namjoon did. Back when Taehyung pressed the gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger, bright red blood spilling over the hardwood-

Or perhaps he died with Jungkook. Perhaps he died in the scene Jimin's seen play ad nauseam in his mind, died in the scene Taehyung described in horrible, revolting detail, how he stood at the edge of the cliff near their farm, arms out wide like a bird, and the world crumbled under him-

Or perhaps he died with Taehyung. Died when his best friend did, bite marks mottling his skin and his perfect white teeth leering over him, eyes distant and horribly lost but still his eyes, still Taehyung's eyes-

And there he is, there's Taehyung, looming over him again, flesh rotting and mouth open wide, ready to sink into his skin.

He screams, trying his damndest to escape Taehyung's grip, but (what was) his best friend has him pinned to the ground, hands on his wrists and a knee on his stomach. His legs kick wildly in an attempt to throw him off, and his eyes are dark and crazed and not Taehyung's eyes and he's crying, he knows he is, but he really can't muster up any fucks to give. 

Hands grab his legs and press them to the ground, and he sobs, trying to twist out of their grip because Taehyung's dead, and Jimin with him, meaty hands running down his side, on his back-

"Jimin!"

The hands disappear, and Jimin curls in on himself, tears streaming down his face as he tries to remember how breathing works. In and out, right?

"Jiminie?"

The gun is at Taehyung's temple faster than he can blink, and they stare at each other for a moment, eyes locked and gun cocked. Taehyung's breathing is carefully even, and he pulls his jacket down so Jimin can see his neck.

His unbitten neck.

Jimin lowers the gun, flicks the safety, and places it on the carpet. Nobody moves, though Jungkook looks close to crying.

"Hey," Taehyung murmurs, voice low and even. It's almost as if he's trying not to scare a skittish animal. "You alright?"

"Hi," Jimin dumbly replies.

"Can I touch you?" Taehyung asks, and Jimin nods, slowly. 

Taehyung reaches around to grab the back of his shirt and pulls him in, pressing Jimin's face into his shoulder. "What was it?" he murmurs, and Jimin stares into the floor, trying to will away tears.

"...the day Kook died," he whispers. 

That's a fucking lie.

But Taehyung's expression crumples nonetheless, so Jimin ignores the way his entire body aches and focuses on being the good hyung he knows he can be. "I'm fine, see?"

"You're doing the thing," Taehyung whispers into his neck. "The hyung thing."

"'M not," Jimin mumbles. 

"You are," Taehyung rebuts. "What's really wrong?"

"Nothing," Jimin insists, but Taehyung knows him better than that, always has. 

"Minnie-"

"Drop it," Jimin states, voice cold as ice. "Taehyung."

And this honestly gives all five assembled Bangtan members pause. Seokjin, Yoongi, Namjoon and Jungkook due to the sheer anger in Jimin's voice, and Taehyung because he knows why it's there.

"Is Jin-hyung okay?" 

"Minnie? Where's Jin-hyung?"

"What happened to Jin-hyung?"

"Jimin-"

"Drop it, Taehyung."

"You're not deflecting again," Taehyung replies, voice equally emotionless. "I hate this, Jimin. You guys are leaving me out of the loop on purpose."

Jimin laughs, a hoarse, high-pitched thing. "Do you think I want to know this?" he practically shrieks, and Taehyung flinches. "I'm the only one who knows, and Jin made me promise not to tell anyone, so there's no way I'm telling you."

"Why not me?" Taehyung counters, and Jimin throws his hands into the air.

"Because you're you," he sighs. and Taehyung's expression does that kicked-puppy thing that's somehow a million times more potent than the cutest of dogs. "I didn't-"

"Explain," Yoongi interjects, eyes narrowing as he stares at the pair. "What happened."

"Nothing happened to me here," Seokjin murmurs, lost in thought. "But... Jimin, you're not saying you saw..."

That's one way to go about it.

"Seokjin asked me to keep his secret," Jimin mumbles. "And Namjoon..."

"Joonie shot them because they stole our things," Taehyung whispers. "Was that a lie?"

"Start over," Namjoon states. "What's going on?"

"Does Kook need to hear this?" Jimin asks, a last-ditch effort to prolong the inevitable.

"I want to stay," Jungkook retorts, sliding closer to Hoseok's side. He's sandwiched between Seokjin and Namjoon on the other bed, Hoseok behind them, and Yoongi's leaning against the nightstand, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand.

All seven of them here... it's insane.

"...we never told you this, Tae," Jimin starts. "But... those two people... you saw the way that man looked at Jin, right?"

Jimin can remember the man perfectly - black-blond streaked hair, fit, a sharp jaw and bright eyes, a rifle slung over his back and blood on his hands - and wishes he couldn't.

"He asked him to talk in the back room. And Jin thought it was just that, y'know? Just a talk. After all, he and Namjoon were the de facto leaders, but Namjoon was trying to get Yoongi to talk to us, so it was really just him."

Jimin swallows, raking a hand through his hair. This hits much closer to home than he'd like.

"So after around ten minutes, Namjoon gets a bad feeling. Grabs Castor and Pollux - they weren't named yet, but he still carried them around everywhere - and kicks down the door."

He's shaking by this point, though Taehyung, to his credit, doesn't try to touch him. On the other side of the bed, Seokjin shakes in Namjoon's grasp, the leader having crossed the bed to wrap him in a hug. 

"And w-we saw Jin, a-and the man, and, and he had Jin p-pinned to the w-wall-"

He doesn't want to think about it. 

"N-Nothing happened. N-Not after Namjoon shot him."

The brains painting the walls as Seokjin empties the contents of his stomach onto the floor, tears mingling with vomit as his frame shakes. "You can't tell anyone."

"And you... and you dreamed that happened to you?"

Jimin nearly laughs at that. If only.

But he just smiles, nods, smilenodsmilenodsmilenod and plays along like the toy he is.

"Minnie..." Taehyung whispers, gathering Jimin in his arms. Apparently his patience ran out. 

He's fine, right? He's fine.

Taehyung's hand rubs his back soothingly, and Jimin focuses on keeping himself grounded. He's not there. He's not-

His best friend's hand dips a little bit too low.

Without thinkng, Jimin shoves him away, sending Taehyung sprawling onto the floor. His wide eyes grow wider with betrayal, and he rubs at a forming bump on the back of his head, tears welling in dark eyes. "Jimin-"

He can't do this.

Jimin stands, grabbing his jacket from the chair and pulling it on. He glances at Hoseok - at his clean, dressed stump, treated by a doctor - and reminds himself why he's doing this.

The door slams behind him as he leaves, and he storms down to the storage room, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

Please. Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease-

His prayers aren't answered.

The door opens.

So he steels his jaw, scrubs his face to stop the tears, and gazes up into Chunsoo's eyes.

"Just do it."

Chapter Text

Honestly, if Hoseok knew what the fuck was going on, he'd tell them.

As it is, he's stuck in a goddamn storage closet with Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook, pressing the younger two into his chest to keep them quiet. Jimin has his gaze pinned on the door, a baseball bat clutched in his grasp and a stern frown on his face. 

When did he become so mature? Hoseok privately wonders.

"What's gonna happen to us?" Taehyung mumbles, fear shining in his dark eyes.

Hoseok stands, pulling the bat out of Jimin's grasp. "You guys gonna be okay?"

"We'll be fine," Jimin assures him, eyes stern. "I promise."

"I've got such mature dongsaengs, don't I?" Hoseok laughs, reaching out to ruffle Jimin's black locks. The man in question frowns, folding his arms over his chest. 

He's upset about something. Hopefully it can wait.

"Make sure to stay safe, okay?" Hoseok grins, and Jimin's frown deepens. "Hyung's gonna be right back."

"Where're you going?" Jimin asks, and Hoseok sighs, raking a hand through his hair. 

"I'm just gonna go talk to someone and find out what's going on, alright? He pulls Jimin close, pressing the younger's head into his shoulder. "Jiminie, you have to take care of the dongsaengs, alright? Be the amazing hyung I know you can be."

"Don't be stupid," Jimin whispers. "Please."

Hoseok nods, pushing open the door and shutting it behind him.

Namjoon and Yoongi are still missing. He has to find them.

Seokjin is working somewhere else. He's definitely safe - the text on his phone attests to that. But Namjoon and Yoongi... they were working in their studio. Both alone.

Both in danger. 

Hoseok keeps to the shadows as he sneaks up the stairs, trying not to vomit at the blood painting the stairwell crimson. He has to find his brothers.

He will.

He keeps his back pressed to the wall as he sneaks through the hallways, feet tracing the familiar path to Mon Studios. He can hear screams in the distance, and he prays to all that's holy that the others are safe. 

Namjoon's still working (somehow) when he opens the door, shutting it behind him and leaning his full weight against it. The rapper pulls off his headphones and places them on the desk, confusion shining in his eyes. "Hobi?"

"We need to go," Hoseok states in lieu of greeting. "C'mon."

"What?" Namjoon parrots, though he allows Hoseok to drag him to his feet. "Hobi, what's going on?"

"I don't know," Hoseok admits. "I'm... I'm really scared..."

"It'll be okay," Namjoon promises, though he almost certainly can't make that claim. "We need to find Yoongi-hyung, right?"

"Yeah," Hoseok hums, pulling the door open. "C'mon, c'mon, we gotta go."

Namjoon (blessedly) stays quiet until they make it to the Genius Lab, and Yoongi doesn't even notice them approach. Hoseok can hear distant groans, and he hates it.

"Yah, Namjoon!" Yoongi squawks, placing his headphones on the table before kicking Namjoon in the shin. "What're you doing here?"

"We gotta go," Hoseok mumbles. "We gotta go, gotta go, gotta go now-"

"Don't scream," someone whispers, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Hoseok, naturally, screams into his hand, gaze flitting to the man behind him. Taehyung grins back at him, Jungkook and Jimin directly behind.

"Why are you here?" Hoseok scream-whispers, slapping Taehyung's hands away. "You shouldn't be here!"

"It'll be okay!" Taehyung chirps. "We just gotta go now!"

"Yep," Hoseok breathes. "Yep. Okay."

Jungkook grabs Yoongi and hauls him out of his seat, and Taehyung grabs Jimin's hand. Hoseok decides to stick with Namjoon, and the six of them run for the stairs as fast as they can.

It's then that they see the first zombies.

The sound of groaning rings through the air, and Yoongi swears, speeding up. Hoseok's gaze flits behind him, and he sees them - blood-stained, broken limbs, running down the hall - and he urges Namjoon into a sprint.

He trips.

Namjoon fucking trips, and Hoseok yanks him to his feet, but it's too late. The zombies are upon them.

"Go!" Hoseok screams, swinging his bat at one of the zombies. "Go, Joon!"

"Not without you!" Namjoon protests.

"Go!" Hoseok exclaims.

He's knocked to the ground, and pain shoots through his leg as a zombie sinks its dirty teeth into it. He screams, kicking wildly before pain shoots through his arm.

More and more swarm him, and he strains his eyes for a glimpse of his brothers, tears rolling down his face. 

"Go!" he screams, though it terminates in a horrifying screech as pain shoots through his neck. "P-Please..."

He can feel hot red blood seeping into his jacket, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the puddle continues to grow.

"P...Please... g...go..." he gasps, his heart slowing in his chest. Each breath is a struggle, and each heartbeat slower than the last. "Pl...ease..."

The beat stops.

Hoseok hears more than people think he does. 

Coincidentally, he sleeps a lot less than people think he does.

And he's smart enough to connect the dots. The way Jimin talked about that... it wasn't a dream. it was real.

He also knows Jimin takes steaming-hot showers whenever he comes back to the room. Also knows that Jimin cries in the night when he thinks nobody can hear him, knows that the others are missing this.

But he's not.

His nurse - a kind woman named Si Sumin - gives him news about the outdoors as best she can. She's young - too young, barely older than Hoseok himself - and the dancer can see finger-painted bruises on her arms and neck when she moves too fast. He can see the way she flinches, the way her eyes have that same damned haunted look Jimin's do, and he's scared for her.

"Chunsoo," he mumbles, lost in thought. "What's he like?"

Sumin flinches at the name, pausing in her bandaging (of the stump, the stump, and fuck if he's not gonna deny as vehemently as he can) and haunted eyes snapping up to meet his. "He's very good to us," she states, though it sound practiced.

Incredibly so.

"Sumin-noona," he whispers, running a hand through his greasy black hair. "Please. I'm scared for my... for Jimin."

"Jimin?" she whispers, eyes going horribly sad. "Oh..."

Hoseok pulls his good leg up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee. "I... I know that... I'm never gonna be able to dance again. Logically, I know it, but it just... it hasn't set in yet. And... and there's nothing I can do about that. I'm never... never gonna dance or even walk again... but I can't just ignore Jimin. Not when the others are too caught in their own problems to see it."

"That's..." Sumin trails off, gaze falling to her hands. "I... I can't. Not when... I can't leave. Not when... not when he..."

She squeezes her eyes shut, a silent tear slipping down her cheek. "He... he probably does, if that's what you're wondering. He... in exchange for food, shelter, medicine... and he has the keys... and Jimin can't say no..."

Hoseok's heart shatters in his chest.

His cheerful dongsaeng... hurt like this? Three weeks they've been here... how much? How much?

(Jimin's haunted eyes, long showers, harsh sobs, and he curses himself for not doing anything sooner)

"There's nothing you can do," Sumin mumbles. "...I know. I tried."

"Who?" Hoseok whispers, voice quiet. 

"...my sister," Sumin breathes. "My sister... and then..."

She doesn't need to say it.

"I should go," she murmurs, standing and heading for the door. "Please stay safe, Hoseok."

"Ah, noona?" Hoseok calls, and Sumin pauses, still facing away. "Do you... do you have bleach? I wanna... I wanna dye my hair."

"I'll find some," Sumin promises. "Please... help him, Hope."

"I will," Hoseok smiles. 

Sumin leaves, and Hoseok waits. 

He doesn't have to wait long. 

Jimin throws open the door, and Hoseok watches as he throws his jacket to the side, tears streaming down his face. He storms into the bathroom, door slamming shut behind him, and Hoseok can hear harsh sobs floating through the thin wood of the door. 

There's only one thing to do now.

He slides himself off the bed, cushioning his descent to the ground with his good leg. There's a pair of crutches next to the bed, and he hops across the floor, sliding down against the back of the door.

"Shut up."

Jimin's voice floats through the door, and Hoseok can hear the tears in his voice. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Hoseok rests his head against the wood, eyes sliding shut.

"I d-don't... I didn't want to..."

Oh, Jimin...

"I... I l-let him..."

Jimin...

"How disgusting am I?"

There's the soft rustling of fabric, and the shower turns on, running water not even close to drowning out the dancer's sobs. "I-I'm disgusting... filthy... i-it's my fault..."

"Minnie?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin's sobs abruptly cut off.

"Hobi?" Jimin murmurs. "Is that... is that you?"

"Yeah," Hoseok hums. "It's me."

"I-"

"I know, Jimin," Hoseok whispers, and Jimin's protest cuts off. "I know what Chunsoo's doing. Can I open the door?"

"..."

Silence isn't a refusal.

Hoseok reaches up and whacks the handle, the door flying open thanks to his weight on it. He sprawls to the floor in a heap of fabric, immediately pushing himself to something resembling a seated position.

Jimin sits under the shower's spray, white caked onto his face and jeans. He scores his nails up and down his arms, blood trickling down the drain as he tries to wash it off, a white tee plastered to his body and hair dripping onto the tile. 

"Jimin?" Hoseok asks, pulling himself along the tile until he makes it to the bathroom. Water soaks into his sweatpants, makes his palms slick, but that doesn't matter. "Jimin..."

"G-Go away," Jimin sobs.

Hoseok doesn't move.

"I said go the fuck away!" Jimin screams.

A bar of soap hurtles past Hoseok's head, and he ducks, eyes wide as he stares at his brother's breakdown. Jimin curls in on himself, tears streaming down his face, and Hoseok slides closer.

"Just... just go away..." Jimin mumbles, voice quiet. "Please..."

"What are you scared of?" Hoseok asks, struggling to his feet. He leans on the wall for support, one hand on the towel rod, and hops closer, pulling a towel off the rack as he does. "Are you scared of Chunsoo-"

"Don't say his name," Jimin hisses. "Don't."

"Are you scared of him?" Hoseok repeats, and Jimin shakes his head.

"No. No, I'm not, not when... not when it...why are you here?" the former dancer asks, lifting his head to blink red-rimmed eyes at Hoseok. "Did someone put you up to this?"

"Why wouldn't I do this on my own?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin shakes his head again, reaching up to dig his nails into his scalp. 

"I cut off your leg," Jimin whispers. "I cut off your leg, a-and this is just what I deserve. You wouldn't... you shouldn't talk to me. I don't... I don't deserve it."

Hoseok reaches out, though the scalding water, and shuts it off, bending down to sit in the puddle on the floor. He drapes the towel around Jimin's neck, and watches as droplets roll off his dark locks, mixing with the tears streaming down his face.

"I-It's cold," Jimin murmurs. "I'm... I'm cold..."

"Can I touch you?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin nods.

He pulls Jimin into his arms, a chill immediately settling into his bones. The younger sobs into his chest, lithe frame shaking with the force of his guilt, and Hoseok runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to provide some modicum of comfort. 

"I don't blame you," Hoseok whispers. "I don't, okay?"

"I-It was my fault..." Jimin trails off. "It was... I should've protected you..."

"Hey," Hoseok soothes, tilting Jimin's chin up so they stare eye-to-eye. "That's not your job, okay? I should've been more careful."

"But I could've stopped this!" Jimin insists, eyes shining with guilt. "I fucked up, okay? I... I fucked up. So I should pay for it."

"Minnie," Hoseok murmurs, and Jimin pulls away, shivering despite himself. "I don't want you to do this, okay?"

"But I have to," Jimin insists, and Hoseok's heart breaks further. "He has the keys, Tae trusts him, he's treating you-"

"We can steal the keys, Tae won't trust him once you tell him what happened, and I'll be fine," Hoseok refutes.

Jimin blinks at him, confusion evident. "But food-"

"We can steal it."

"Medicine-"

"We'll find some."

"Taehyung-"

"Trusts you a hell of a lot more than he does Chunsoo," Hoseok finishes. 

Jimin glares at him, though there's undeniable relief and fondness in his gaze. "Here I was, perfectly content with my straight-up nihilism, and here you are, Jung Hoseok. I just came here to have a good time and I honestly feel so attacked right now."

"I'll attack you with my sunshine," Hoseok beams, and Jimin's lips twitch slightly before he sneezes. "Ah, you need to change..."

Jimin's expression shuts down again, and he hunches in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Hoseok inwardly kicks himself - he had a good thing going, goddammit - and slides back to give Jimin a bit of space. "I need to change too," he continues, careful to keep his voice quiet. "Is it alright if I bring some clothes in for you?"

"Why are you doing this...?" Jimin mumbles, tears threatening to spill. 

Hoseok smiles, voice steady even as he does some sort of demented crab-walk up the wall. "Because I love you," he simply replies, a smile on his face. "And so do Jin-hyung, and Yoongi-hyung, and Namjoon, and Tae, and Jungkook."

Jimin shakes his head, burying his face in his knees. "W-Why?" he whispers. "I-I'm not your Jimin. I-I'm not... i-it's not... you d-don't know me anymore."

"There's no world where I wouldn't love you, Jiminie," Hoseok assures him, and a strangled sob slips between Jimin's lips. "That's just not possible."

"B-But... I'm not... I don't deserve..."

"You deserve the world, Jimin," Hoseok smiles, doing some sort of strange hop towards his crutches. "I just wish I could give it to you."

"I don't deserve you," Jimin murmurs. "I ruined your life..."

"You saved my life," Hoseok smiles, and Jimin stares at him, expression unreadable. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He shucks off his sweatpants (with a great deal of muttered curses) and slides into a fresh pair, pulling one of his spares out for Jimin. It smells vaguely like the mango soap he likes, and the baggy shirt he brings with it does as well.

"Back!" he chirps, and Jimin stares dully at him, expression empty. "I hope you like mangoes... my clothes all smell like them."

"Your clothes?" Jimin parrots, confusion evident. "No, no, Hobi, I can't-"

"It'll be like a hug from me," Hoseok continues, placing the folded clothes on top of the toilet. "And it'll be nice to be in something warm, won't it?"

"...I guess..."

"It'll be nice," Hoseok repeats, reaching out with a towel. "Can I dry your hair?"

Jimin nods, and Hoseok towels his dark hair slowly, tucking a dry one around his neck once he's done. "I'll let you get changed, okay?" he smiles, leaning heavily on his crutches. Damn, he's tired. "Then you can come to bed. You don't have to come, and it's absolutely alright if you don't want to, but my bed is open."

"...thanks," Jimin mumbles, and Hoseok gives him a reassuring smile as he limp-hops out the door. 

He slides under the covers, eyes sliding shut as soon as his head hits the pillow. Christ, he's tired.

A few minutes later, he feels a weight on one side of the bed, and the blankets rustle as Jimin joins him. He's not hugging him, but he can feel Jimin's warm breath on his neck, and feather-light touches on his arm, and he resigns himself to this being enough.

And so he sleeps.

He's woken up a few hours later by the others returning - a supply run day. Jimin's asleep next to him, and Hoseok scowls at the group entering, hand hovering just over Jimin's hair but not quite touching it.

He doesn't want to hurt him. Not Jimin.

Not when he's been hurt so much already.

"We need to talk," he simply states, and Taehyung tilts his head, confusion evident.

"Why?" he asks, eyes widening comically. "Is everything okay? Do you need more medicine?"

"It's not me," Hoseok retorts.

His gaze falls to Jimin, and the group seems to understand.

"When he's awake," Namjoon states, and the others seem to agree. Only Taehyung frowns, disappointment evident. "It'll be okay."

Hoseok nods, eyes sliding shut as he pulls the covers up, breathing already slow.

He sleeps without dreams.

Chapter Text

They're rebuilding, slowly but surely.

After... after Namjoon, they drive for hours. Jimin keeps white-knuckled hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook and Taehyung asleep in the back, and he just. Drives.

Not that the scenery is particularly mind-blowing or worth seeing. He just doesn't want to be inside his head right now.

God, how he doesn't want to be inside his head right now. 

After a few hours (or more, or less) he catches sight of a secluded house atop a mountain.

It's perfect. Nestled on the edge of a cliff, with a few winding paths that lead down to a river, to other outcroppings, and a road that leads to other major cities, they'll make it work.

And if there's a few holes in the walls, roof, floor... well. They have always been fast learners. 

Time passes in a flash. They rebuild their home (and it is a home, truly, with Taehyung and Jungkook permeating every inch of it, the tally marks on the walls, the television they dragged up from a nearby city in their van, their small farm) and make it their own. 

And snow falls.

Jimin still doesn't know if what he's doing is right or not. He was never meant to be in this parent role, was never meant to be the responsible one.

But when he thinks of Hoseok's smile, Seokjin's soothing words, Namjoon's steady hands... he thinks he can do that.

Perhaps it's hubris, but he wants to believe he can. Needs to believe he can.

Not that he honestly does. 

He sits on their doorstep, breath forming clouds in front of his face. The sound of Taehyung and Jungkook's laughter rings through the air, and he giggles, blowing on his mitten-clad palms in an attempt to warm them. 

Normally, a million white lines dot his fingers, courtesy of his camera and knives. But here, like this, it's easy to pretend like there's nothing wrong.

(Easy to pretend like he doesn't nestle hate in his heart, the feeling festering and spreading dark tendrils through his chest and mind)

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice Jungkook and Taehyung whispering to each other in the yard, nor does he notice when Taehyung throws a snowball at his head. 

He does notice when the snow splatters across his face, knocking his fur-lined hood off his head and rolling in rivulets down his cheeks. 

"Yah!" he shouts, scooping up a handful of snow from the ground. "Kim Taehyung!"

Taehyung grins at him, though his joy turns to panic when Jimin stands, snow-boots easily cutting through snow. "Get back here!" he shouts, and Taehyung laughs, throwing his head back to run through the snow. 

Jungkook stands on the porch, polaroid camera gripped in his hands. His eyes sparkle beneath his hood, and his lips curl into a smile as he aims it at the two 95' liners. "Hey!"

Jimin leaps onto Taehyung's back, smiling wide as he beams at the camera. "Hi!" he chirps, and Jungkook grins.

"Say cheese!" Jungkook exclaims, and Jimin laughs as a snowflake lands on his nose.

Jimin does not want to do this.

In fact, if there was a list of things Jimin does not want to do, this would probably be pretty near the top.

But Hoseok's next to him, and Namjoon and Seokjin are here, and he doesn't have to talk to Taehyung or Jungkook (or Yoongi, the walking enigma) for the time being, so he'll be okay.

Probably.

"Take your time," Namjoon murmurs, and Jimin blinks, gaze flying to the clock. He was lost in memory for a full fifteen minutes, there. Whoops.

But he doesn't like to say the word.

It somehow feels like he's devaluing people's struggles. Feels like he had a say and he chose yes, however much he wants the memory of Chunsoo's hands to dissolve, the memories to stop stop stop filling his mind, however much he didn't want to-

"I... I didn't want it..."

And he hates that he's crying, hates that he's shaking, because he had a say and he chose yes, so why in the fuck is he complaining about this?

"Oh," is all Namjoon says, and Jimin thanks his lucky stars that the leader has had years upon years to learn how to conceal his emotions, because he can see him scrambling to pull the mask of calm back together. It's... strange, he decides, to see that momentary openness on his face before his expression turns calm again, the only thing revealing his shock the slight widening of his eyes.

Seokjin, on the other hand, doesn't bother. 

"Minnie," he breathes, reaching out to grasp Jimin's hand. 

A wave of panic shoots down his spine and he yanks it out of the eldest's grasp, breathing fast and heavy as he stares at him. Seokjin's expression is crushed, and guilt mingles with adrenaline as he lets his hands fall into his lap. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Jimin?" Hoseok asks, voice soothing as his face fills Jimin's field of view. "Can I touch you?"

Jimin shakes his head, and Hoseok nods, gaze flitting to Namjoon. "Do you know what to do?" he asks, and Namjoon nods, sliding into Hoseok's place. 

"Can you breathe?" Namjoon asks, and Jimin shakes his head, the memories of Chunsoo's meaty hands around his neck strangling him. "Can you try for me?"

"O-Okay," Jimin gasps, trying to remember how lungs work. He manages to suck in a shallow breath, and Namjoon dimples, sliding a small distance away. "You're doing great," he soothes. "Can you breathe with me?"

Jimin nods, and Namjoon starts to count, voice soothing as ever. "One... two... three..."

By the time he makes it to seven, Jimin's heart-rate has mostly returned to normal, and he grips the sheets in his hands, shame washing over him. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, and Namjoon shakes his head. 

"You did nothing wrong," he smiles, and Jimin curls in on himself, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry," Seokjin whispers, and Jimin shakes his head. 

"It wasn't your fault," he states, and he can hear Seokjin frown. "Really."

"Who was it?" Namjoon asks, voice still gentle. 

Jimin bows his head, shame crawling up his spine. "...Chunsoo..." he finally replies. 

There's a long moment of silence.

"...why didn't you want Yoongi here?"

This comes from Seokjin, and Jimin shakes his head, pulling his backpack off the chair and yanking out his box of polaroids.

There's one in particular he wants to find.

He sifts through the images, gaze lingering for just a moment on the one Jungkook took. The one six months after they found their home, with Jimin on Taehyung's shoulders and snow swirling around them.

He puts it away. 

He puts it away and finds the one he wants, Yoongi with his messy hair and cigarette dangling from his lips, and he can see it, Namjoon's gleaming earrings and broken eyes as he stares at his best friend, eyes broken, and oh, he does have a picture of that, of Namjoon sitting on the edge of a roof, earrings illuminated by the camera flash, but he never knew that picture was taken, not when he drank himself into oblivion on the anniversary of Seokjin's death, and Jimin let him because Namjoon was the leader for 364 days of the year, surely Jimin could give him this. 

"Oh," Seokjin murmurs, seeing but not seeing. He doesn't know, he wasn't there, he didn't see Yoongi torn apart like fabric, so far gone that not even Namjoon could recognize him. 

He wasn't there.

So Jimin roots though his polaroids, trying to find it, and he does.

Namjoon smiling at the camera, dark veins crawling their way up his neck and blood plastering his dark hair to his forehead, tears streaming down his cheeks as he accepts his fate, and Jimin realizes he's crying too.

Namjoon still had the earrings, even then. 

"Fucking idiot," Jimin sobs, pulling his knees to his chest. "He shoulda stayed with Yoongi... shouldn't've come back... shouldn't've jumped off the train..."

Why did he follow Yoongi, anyways?

"Yoongi jumped off a train and I followed him," Namjoon states.

It isn't a question, but Jimin nods regardless.

"...I don't think I could ever give up on him."

"I don't know if you ever did," Jimin admits. "I think... somewhere, I think you always did. Even when the rest of us did, you never... not fully."

(Mottled bruises painting Namjoon's arms violet, concealed under long sleeves and soft words and remnants of old love)

"...not when it killed you."

(Namjoon leaping after Yoongi without a second thought, just as he always would)

Jimin places the polaroid back into his box and that into his backpack, zipping it shut. "Yeah. I don't... I don't wanna tell Yoongi right now."

"What about Tae?" Seokjin prods.

As if on cue, Taehyung and Jungkook burst through the door, a wave of laughter and general ecstasy following in their wake. And behind them-

Jimin can't breathe.

"Chunsoo," Namjoon cooly states, rising to greet the man. "What're you doing here?"

"Just came to see how Hoseok's doing," the man smiles, and Jimin's shaking like a leaf in the wind, hands gripping the sheets for dear fucking life because they cannot know.

"And you brought chocolate, didn't you?" Taehyung asks, and Chunsoo nods, pressing a bar of chocolate into Taehyung's hands.

Jimin wants to throw up. 

"You're the best, Chunsoo-hyung!" Taehyung beams, and fuck, Jimin can't do this.

He runs for the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the porcelain basin. Rough, calloused hands pull his hair back - Namjoon's, then - and he hears the soft click of the door shutting.

Bile spews from his throat as he gasps, tears mingling with the nauseating liquid as he retches. All he can think of is the way Taehyung looked at him, looked like he trusted him, called him hyung, and that mingles with the memories of Chunsoo's hands, breath, mouth, and he just. Can't.

He heaves again, and Namjoon's soft voice filters back into his mind. "I wish I had a notebook for notes, you know? There's the one in my backpack, but that one just works for lyrics, and it's almost full anyways-"

Jimin retches, bile spilling over his lips, because he remembers now.

"I hope you like it! I... I spent a while on it, actually, but I think it says how I feel pretty well-"

"Is he okay?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin chokes on a sob, white-knuckled hands gripping the bowl for dear life.

"I don't want to see it."

He sits back, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking like a leaf. No no no no no-

"Yoongi, stop!"

"Jimin?"

"Our dream is dead."

He sucks in a shuddering breath, his surroundings finally returning in full. He's sitting on the cold white tile of their bathroom, Namjoon next to him and Jungkook in front of him. His mouth tastes like vomit, and his eyes hurt, but he's alright.

"Hyung?" Jungkook whispers, voice horribly soft and quiet. "Are you..."

His gaze falls to Namjoon's hands, only to see them smooth and uncalloused, no hints of the burn scars he's traced over more times than he can count.

He's losing his mind, isn't he?

"What happened to your hands?" he stupidly asks, because his brain hasn't quite caught up with his mouth yet.

(He knows the answer, but still)

He pulls one of Namjoon's hands into his palm and starts to trace the old lines, a dip here, a curve there, a line, twist, familiar pattern, the imprint of spirals-

But they're perfectly smooth.

And at that moment he cries, because Namjoon - his Namjoon - was always there, always there with his burn-marked, calloused, and rough hands, philosophical musings and advice murmured under the stars, and he cared, and he was there for Jimin when nobody else was, and this isn't him.

"What's wrong?" Namjoon asks, and the timbre is just slightly off, but it's enough.

"You're not him," Jimin whispers. 

And apparently, because he can't shut the fuck up, he keeps talking.

"You don't remember any of it," he continues. "Not the late nights, or the fights, or the days in the rain, or the way you'd always nick your thumb on one part of the camera because you always forgot it was there, or the way you'd try your damndest to replicate Jin's recipes even though you could never get them quite right but they somehow managed to taste the way being around you felt, like mistakes that all turn out alright in the end, and you don't have the earrings that you always wore, or the bullets in your pocket and the backpack that was falling to bits but you still kept it because it brought you luck, or the book that Tae only managed to save a bit of, that one charred bit of paper with your handwriting still on it that I still have in my backpack because it reminds me of you and I just-"

He sucks in a breath before he continues, voice quiet. "You don't remember the promises we made on a million different rooftops, and you definitely don't remember the night after... after Seokjin died... how you brought me outside and, even though you were heartbroken yourself, gave me a pat on the head and told me that even though I may be one of the hyungs," Namjoon makes a small surprised noise at this, "you'd still protect us because you were all that was left. You were the last one who could."

"What happened to Yoongi?" Jungkook whispers, and Jimin shakes his head.

"He couldn't protect anyone," the elder mumbles. "Not when he was too busy trying to drink himself to death, or burn himself up with matches."

He laughs, a dry, hoarse thing. "But Namjoon never let him. He was always the leader, y'know. Protecting us all the way 'till the end."

Jimin coughs into his sleeve, curling in on himself again. "I'm... I think I'm better now. As long as... as long as Chunsoo isn't there."

"Taehyung left," Seokjin states, leaning on the door-frame. "Yoongi's still out, so we're good."

"What's wrong with Chunsoo?" Jungkook asks, wide, doe-like eyes scanning the room. "Hyung?"

Jimin swallows around the lump in his throat, and squeezes his eyes shut. "...fourteen times."

"Fourteen times?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin doesn't need to look to see Seokjin and Namjoon's shock.

"...that's how many times Chunsoo... how many times he used me."

Chapter Text

There's something even worse than pain and hatred with no respite.

And that is hope. A speck of light amidst the darkness that is cruelly snuffed out.

Namjoon learned this firsthand.

There's something worse than making music for the whole world to see and having them hate it.

And that is making music to reach someone, only to have them spurn your efforts. 

Namjoon, again, learned this firsthand.

He spent two months writing these songs, using every moment of free time to perfect. To create. To improve.

And he uses the book Taehyung and Jungkook stitched together from blank sheet music and lined paper, Jungkook's art coating the cover. The book that holds their hearts, and the book to which he added his own. 

The book that Jimin is ever-skeptical of.

But it doesn't matter now. Not when it's Seokjin's birthday. 

Not when Namjoon wants to reach him. 

This book holds his thoughts, ideas, dreams... all of it in curled cursive. All of it, bared to whatever remains of the world.

All that remains of his world is the four other members. His best friends, his family... his heart.

And to have Yoongi try and tear his way out... hurts, honestly. Because unlike Hoseok or Seokjin, he has the option to stay. He doesn't have to leave.

Jimin leans against the doorframe, eyes horribly sad as he watches the event unfold. Taehyung has his old, old phone out, recording it on video (because he hopes, he dares to hope, and that hurts so bad) and Jungkook smiles from his position in an armchair, the fireplace reflected in his dark eyes. 

And Jimin hates it.

"Hyung?" Namjoon murmurs, voice soft as though he's approaching a wild animal. 

Yoongi turns, flicking the lighter on and off idly with one hand as the other holds a cigarette. His greasy black hair falls in his eyes, and his dark eyes are red-rimmed - though whether that's from the empty bottles littering the floor or just a general lack of self-care, Jimin doesn't know - as he stares at the former rapper. "What do you want?" he asks, gravelly voice horribly quiet. 

"I-"

"Spit it out," Yoongi snaps, and Namjoon flinches, though Jimin's not sure what he expected from this level of inebriation. 

"I made this for you," Namjoon smiles, and Jimin's heart aches.

He's trying so hard.

Yoongi snatches the book from Namjoon's grasp, gaze roving over the painted cover. He stares at it, idly flicking his lighter as his lips curl into a frown. 

"I hope you like it!" Namjoon exclaims, and Jimin can hear the hope in his voice. "I... I spent a while on it, actually," understatement of the year, "but I think it says how I feel pretty well-"

"I don't want to see it," Yoongi growls.

He raises the book to his eye and raises his hand, and Jimin knows how this ends.

The flames lap at the paper, and someone - maybe Taehyung? - gasps as they spread over the beautifully painted cover. Namjoon looks almost on the verge of tears, and Jimin is fucking done.

"Yoongi, stop!" he shouts, and Yoongi smiles, a dry, broken thing.

"Our dream is dead," he spits.

And he throws the book into the fire.

Jungkook makes a sound like a wounded animal, and he can hear Taehyung crying, but Jimin's gaze is pinned on Namjoon.

Namjoon doesn't cry. At least, not where they can see him.

Which makes the silent tears rolling down his cheeks all the more potent.

"Why?" he simply whispers, heartbreak evident in his voice. "Why, hyung?"

And fuck, Jimin doesn't know how Yoongi can't feel bad here, because this is another thing Namjoon doesn't do. He doesn't (or, well, didn't) call the two elder members 'hyung'. Not after they agreed to stop.

"Like I said," Yoongi replies, voice dead. "Our dream is dead."

Namjoon makes an absolutely heartbreaking sound then, and before Jimin can stop him, he's running out of the room. 

"What the fuck!" Jimin demands, patience having long-since run out.

"He's wasting his time," Yoongi dryly remarks, and Jimin really wants to punch him. "There's no point in making songs anymore-"

"He poured his heart into those songs!" Jimin shouts, throwing his hand out to the side as if to force Yoongi to stay. "He poured his heart and soul into those words, just like you used to," and Yoongi growls here, a low, furious sound, "and you threw it into the fire!"

"It's better for him-"

"He tried to reach you!" Jimin roars, slamming his fist into the wall. Plaster crumples under the force of his anger, but he stuffs his fists into his pockets and turns back to Yoongi. "He wanted to reach you, because he still cares about you!"

"Well," Yoongi drawls, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air, "I wish I could say the feeling was mutual."

Jimin crosses the room within moments, pulling Yoongi out of his chair and gripping the collar of his tank-top in one hand. "Take that back," he hisses, and Yoongi laughs, smoke escaping his mouth. 

"Can't take back the truth," he grins.

Jimin punches him.

"It's his fault!" Yoongi shouts, throwing his hands out to the side as if it'll accentuate his point. "He tripped and Hoseok died, he took the weapons and Seokjin died... why wasn't it him?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jimin shrieks, driving his fist into Yoongi's mouth. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"It's his fault!" Yoongi counters, wiping blood from his lips. "You know it as well as I do, Jimin!"

"It's not his fault!" Jimin shouts. "You're delusional!"

"Then whose fault is it?" Yoongi challenges. "Because it's someone's fucking fault, and it's sure as hell not mine!"

"Stop throwing yourself a damn pity party!" Jimin screams. "There's still five of us here! You're not alone!"

"Hoseok and Seokjin were my best friends!" Yoongi shouts, tears rolling down his cheeks. "You don't fucking understand, Jimin!"

"They're dead!" Jimin roars, and Yoongi flinches. "They're dead, and you're taking your anger out on the only person who still gives a fuck about you! If I had my way, you'd have died with them! At least then Namjoon would get closure!"

His mind flits back to one of Namjoon's lyrics (that've burned to ash now) and he decides that Yoongi might as well hear it.

"Loving you hurts worse than losing you!" Jimin shouts. "Namjoon said that! And do you know why? Because if you left, there'd be closure! You just keep breaking his heart again and again, and then he forgives you, because none of us have ever deserved someone as good as him!"

"If he wasn't here, Hoseok and Seokjin would still be alive!" Yoongi roars, and Jimin has had enough.

"I wish you were dead," Jimin hisses, and Yoongi's eyes widen momentarily. "Yeah, you heard me. I wish you were dead, Yoongi. Because then you wouldn't keep hurting one of the three people I care about."

He runs a hand through his hair and laughs, a short, bark-like sound. "Shit!" he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. "I guess I really was a fool, huh? All those times I though they were stupid to hope, and here I was, hoping just the same!"

Jimin scrubs his face before continuing, a broken smile on his lips. "I hope you're happy, Yoongi."

"Is everything okay?"

Jimin tosses Taehyung's phone to the side, wincing as it hits the duvet. Shockingly, he found it in his backpack, and he's since taken the chance to rewatch old videos. 

Not exactly the best of memories.

His gaze lands on Yoongi, and he instinctually stiffens, fight-or-flight response automatically activated. Yoongi must notice, since he frowns, moving over to sit down next to him. 

"You haven't talked to me or Taehyung at all," the rapper explains, and Jimin winces. "What's wrong, Jimin?"

Jimin pulls his knees to his chest, and Yoongi's gaze lands on the phone. "This is Taehyung's," he states, and Jimin nods.

Before Jimin can warn him not to, Yoongi picks up the phone, rewinding the video back to the beginning. And oh.

Honestly, every time, he misses his Namjoon. They may not have been as supermodel attractive as they once were, but Namjoon still... he still had the same fire in his eyes that burned for Bangtan ever since debut.

The video opens on Namjoon's approach, and Jimin can hear Yoongi's sharp intake of breath. From an objective point of view, Jimin can see how Namjoon wouldn't be the most attractive, not with dirt on his cheek and scars littering his hands, but Jimin still thinks he's enough.

"Spit it out," video-Yoongi spits, and Yoongi jerks as though he's been stabbed. His eyes shine with guilt, and Jimin feels a sick, twisted sort of pleasure settle in his gut.

"I made this for you," video-Namjoon smiles, and Jimin's heart aches. Funny, how he'd grown the closest to Namjoon out of all of his hyungs, where before it would have been Hoseok, or Yoongi, or Seokjin.

Next to him, Yoongi's slowly shaking his head, as if he knows how this ends. Which, honestly, he probably does - the scenario is comically easy to read. 

"I don't want to see it."

Yoongi makes a small, pained noise as the flames lap at the book, and Jimin has to blink away tears. A gasp emanates from the video - Taehyung, then - and Namjoon looks about to cry.

"I'm sorry," Yoongi murmurs. "Namjoon..."

"Our dream is dead."

Jimin can see the gears in Yoongi's head turning as he attempts to reconcile the Namjoon of this time with the broken shell that stands in the video, the spark of determination in his eyes utterly shattered. And fuck, Yoongi doesn't even know that Namjoon never cried.

"He never cried," Jimin mumbles. "Not where we could see him. Not until after that night."

Because that night really is what broke him. Yoongi throwing his dreams into the fireplace and letting them burn, taking his heart and soul with it - that's what broke him.

"He tried to reach you!" video-Jimin shouts, and Yoongi honestly looks like he wants to cry. "He wanted to reach you, because he still cares about you!"

"Why?" Yoongi helplessly whispers, though Jimin knows he's replaying that memory - slipped through the cracks, somehow - in his mind. Hoseok's death.

"Well, I wish I could say the feeling was mutual."

"I'm sorry," Yoongi repeats, gaze pinned on Jimin. "Minnie, I'm so sorry."

Jimin stops the video just as his past self punches him, letting the phone hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud. "Do you see now?"

"I-"

"That was you," Jimin states, voice cold as steel. "And there's nothing stopping you from becoming that again."

He runs a hand through his hair as he forces himself to his feet, gaze pinned on Yoongi's dark orbs. "Loving you hurts worse than losing you. So I stopped loving you."

"Jimin-"

"Your best friend," Jimin hisses. "I can't look at you and not see moments like that."

Yoongi stares at him, messy hair falling in his eyes as he rubs his eyes with scar-riddled hands. "Let me-"

"And you don't know, not after he killed himself for you-"

"Jimin!"

Jimin blinks, finally seeing. 

Yoongi's hair is dark but soft, not matted. His hands are unscarred and ring-laden, and fuck, he's upset.

"That wasn't me," the elder whispers, shaking his head slowly. "I don't- I don't know how to tell you this, Jimin. I'm... I'm not that person. I'm not him."

Jimin pulls his knees to his chest, eyes empty. "Yoongi, I-"

"I just want you to talk to me," Yoongi murmurs. "And I don't... I don't need you to trust me. You don't... you don't have to forgive me, and... and I'm sorry. But you're hurting, and I want you to be okay."

"I..."

Jimin doesn't know what to say. Fuck, how can he respond to this?

"I'm sorry," Jimin whispers, and he bursts into tears. 

Yoongi slides closer, wrapping an arm around Jimin's back, but not going for the full hug. "That's not everything, is it?"

Jimin rubs at the tears streaming down his face, nodding as he does. "I-It's not."

"You don't have to forgive me," Yoongi murmurs, and Jimin feels relief wash over him. He's not there yet. "But can you at least tell me what else is wrong?"

This - this is what separates them. This Yoongi cares.

Much, much softer than Jimin is used to - he dares to think Namjoon's the only one that ever saw this side of their stoic hyung - and he vaguely wonders why before answering.

"It... Chunsoo... a-and I didn't want to, but I had to, i-it gets better the fifteenth time, I promise-"

Yoongi's eyes flash with unconcealed rage, and a low growl slips out from between his lips. "That bastard," he hisses, practically leaping off the bed in his fury. "How dare he?"

"Don't," Jimin whispers, reaching out to grip Yoongi's wrist. He thought this would happen, honestly - Yoongi's always had a fiery temper. "Please. Not... not now. Not today. Not until we can find more medicine for Hoseok."

"The others know?" Yoongi asks, and Jimin slowly nods.

"Everyone but Tae," he adds, and Yoongi frowns before his eyes light with understanding.

"Because Tae likes him," Yoongi mutters. "Jimin, if he knew what he's doing to you-"

"But I'm me!" Jimin exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. "I'm broken and mean and nothing like the Jimin you know, and every time he looks at me all he can probably think of is me burying you and Namjoon and Jungkook-"

"What."

"-and if he's happy, he deserves that much, at least."

"Jimin-"

Yoongi sighs, tilting his head back to pinch his nose. "It doesn't matter if you're not the Jimin we know," he finally states. "And you shouldn't've had to do that. We're your hyungs-"

"Namjoon and Jin were my hyungs," Jimin mumbles, and and Yoongi flinches like he's been stabbed. "Ah, I'm sorry-"

"It's weird," Yoongi remarks, leaning in to study Jimin's face. "You look the same, but there's... something about you that looks like Namjoon."

Jimin beams, and Yoongi smiles in response. "That's so nice!" he chirps, and Yoongi hides his face in his hands.

"You in here?" Namjoon asks, poking his head through the door. Once he catches sight of them, he covers a grin with his hand and pushes open the door further, sort of awkwardly shuffling across the room. "Just came to pick up Hobi."

"Hi," Hoseok chirps, and Jimin yelps, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Hoseok's hidden behind the other bed, hair messy and a devilish smirk on his face as Namjoon hauls him to his feet - foot? - and all but carries him out of the room, despite Hoseok's protests. 

"Why?" the former dancer whines.

"They were having a moment," Namjoon hisses.

"You ruined it first," Hoseok pouts, and Jimin can imagine Namjoon's embarrassment. "I was just there-"

"Well," Yoongi mumbles. "That happened."

Jimin laughs into his hands, and Yoongi thinks it might be the most beautiful sound in the world.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Minnie."

Namjoon sits back on his heels, smiling at the camera perched on the concrete wall. It's his old, old phone, and while Jimin's cooking dinner inside, he's going to take advantage of that.

It is his birthday in five days, after all.

He laughs, reaching up to rub the small diamond studs Seokjin gifted him last year. They're calming, always there to remind him that Seokjin cared and loved them, and he hopes this present will do the same for Jimin.

"Happy birthday!" he grins, waving his hands around as if to encourage celebration. "You're twenty-eight now! Wow, that's old."

He swallows before continuing, because he doesn't want to start crying. "I'm really, really proud of you, Chim. The way you stepped up to take care of Taehyung and Jungkook, even when you're barely older than them. The way you're so responsible, and strong, and brave... I'm proud every day."

He runs a hand through his hair, an awkward smile on his face. "So I really hope that you like this."

He pulls a blue and black bracelet out of his pocket, black onyx with a single ocean-blue bead on it. "You remember when we went to the mall eight months ago? And you took Taehyung and Jungkook to Gucci while Yoongi raided the supermarket for cigarettes and booze? I went to the jewelry store. And I was looking around, 'cause I knew I wanted to get something for you that would have the same significance that Jin's earrings had for me, and I saw this."

He smiles, pulling Jimin's backpack into frame. "I'm gonna hide this in your backpack," he smiles, pulling the phone closer. He slides the bracelet into a plastic bag and opens the backpack, quirking a brow upon seeing its contents. "You're always so prepared... but why do you need... you know what? Not gonna ask."

He pushes some stuff aside and zooms in on the right corner of the backpack, pulling a bit of fabric out of his pocket. "I'm gonna put this here to keep it safe," he states, producing a needle and thread. "This way, no matter what happens to me, you'll be able to find it."

Namjoon makes a valiant attempt at sewing it on, but by the end, needle-pricks riddle his hands. Still, he smiles regardless, sliding the bracelet (and a small piece of paper) into the small pouch he's created.

"Happy birthday, Jiminie," he grins, placing the phone back on the ledge. A sunset silhouettes him, and he turns, a soft smile on his face.

"If anything happens to me," he murmurs, so quiet that it's barely audible, "Yoongi can take care of you. And if something happens to both of us... you'll be alright. I know you will. Because you're Jimin."

He runs a hand through his greasy hair, laughing to himself. "Wow," he mumbles. "Imagine if Seokjin could see me now. I don't know if he'd be proud, or if he'd laugh at me."

His lips quirk into a soft, dimpled smile, and he lifts the phone, moving to sit on the ledge. "I was going to do this for you on your birthday," he muses, barely present, "but this way, it's on tape, right? Yeah."

He takes a breath and starts to sing, voice soft as the familiar phrases float from his mouth.

"Honja jjujeo anja... saenggag man keojyeoga..."

He doesn't need to say he loves him.

His smile says enough.

Days later, Jimin stares at the phone in disbelief, tears rolling down his cheeks and hitting the smooth surface.

"You idiot," he whispers, heartbreak shaking his lithe frame. "You never told me your password..."

And the bracelet stays in the backpack, forgotten.

Jimin still doesn't know what it is, honestly.

He's tried all of their birthdays, their debut date, the date Namjoon released RM and mono... everything.

And he's out of ideas.

So he keeps the phone in his backpack, dead and useless, and tries to forget it's even there.

(No matter that he'd sell his soul to hear Namjoon's voice again - his Namjoon, voice gravelly from smoke and always seeming to have this soft hint of fond exasperation even when it was just the two of them that he misses more than air-)

But they're getting out. They have food and medicine and clothes and they're all ready to leave (sans Taehyung) but Jimin has to get the keys.

Which Chunsoo keeps on him.

And it says a lot that Jimin's become able to leave his body for things like this, stop thinking and dwell on happier days instead, days of snow and laughter and booze on rooftops.

The others don't seem to share the sentiment.

He's seen the way Seokjin steels his jaw when he's wrapping bandages around Jimin's wrists, seen the way Hoseok's smile dims ever-so-slightly when Jimin flinches from his touch. Hears more than sees arguments in the dead of night between Namjoon and Yoongi, the elder mere seconds away from shooting Chunsoo in cold blood.

Taehyung continues to bring him by, and Jungkook helps him escape to the bathroom because Taehyung doesn't see and Jimin does.

(Jungkook can see it too - the way his eyes linger on the curve of Seokjin's pants, the way his hands stray when he hugs Taehyung, the way he'll lick his lips upon seeing Hoseok, and he understands why Yoongi's contemplating murder)

But they're going to be free. They're going to leave and Jimin wants it more than he has anything else.

"Jimin."

Chunsoo's voice floats through the air, and he freezes, panic shooting down his spine. No, no, no, they're so close-

A hand cups his ass, and he manages not to flinch as Chunsoo steers him into their storage room (and when did it become theirs?) and slams him against the wall, licking stripes up his neck.

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think, tries to stop thinking as the hand drifts lower, lower, and he's on the floor, Chunsoo's hands everywhere and he wants it to stop-

A gunshot rings through the air.

Chunsoo crumples on top of him, and Jimin feels something hot and wet splatter on his face.

"Jimin?" someone whispers, and Jimin slides out from under him, tears rolling down his face as he pulls on his jeans because he never wanted this-

Yoongi stands in the door, gun smoking and blood splattered over his jacket and hands. His expression is dull, empty, and he slides the gun back into his holster without a word.

Behind him, Seokjin has a hand over Jungkook's eyes, and Jimin will forever be grateful for that, because he knows no person should have to see their hyung, someone they respect, someone they care about, looking like this.

(He speaks from experience, here)

Namjoon pushes past Yoongi and enters the room, Hoseok on his back. He slides the dancer onto the floor and gives Jimin a reassuring smile, Hoseok immediately leaping to the rescue.

"Jiminie," the former dancer whispers as Yoongi rifles through Chunsoo's pockets for keys. "Oh, my Jiminie..."

And Jimin's crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as his lithe frame shakes with sobs. He never wanted this-

"...what...?"

No.

Taehyung stands in the doorway, backlit by the light streaming in from the hall. His eyes shine with betrayal, shock, horror, and he stares at Jimin, mouth open and tears rolling down his cheeks. "Ji... Jiminie?"

"Tae..." Jimin sniffs, and he can see the moment it clicks.

Taehyung's eyes widen, and he darts to Jimin's side, hands hovering over his friend's shoulders but never quite touching. Guilt fills his eyes, his hands, everything he does, and he sits back on his heels, eyes flying over the bruises littering Jimin's skin. "Oh, Jiminie," he breathes, "I'm so- fuck, I'm so sorry, Chim."

"Tae," Jimin whimpers, curling in on himself. Fuck, he feels disgusting.

"Are you okay?" Taehyung asks, and Jimin shakes his head, a broken, keening wail tearing its way out of his throat.

"Wan' Joonie," he whispers. "My Joonie."

Taehyung's eyes shine with guilt, and he slides closer, though still letting Jimin make the first move. "I'm sorry," he breathes. "I haven't been a great friend, have I?"

"'S not your fault," Jimin mumbles. "I didn't stop him from jumpin'."

Taehyung sucks in a breath as Jimin nuzzles into his chest, wrapping an arm around Taehyung's shoulders. And fuck, the younger's heart aches at seeing his best friend like this - white-stained jeans and tears rolling down his cheeks - and hates even more that he trusted the man that did this.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "Jiminie, I'm so sorry..."

"Not your fault," Jimin bitterly whispers. "I mean... at least Kook's okay, right?"

The "isn't that what you want?" hangs in the air between them, left unsaid.

"Jimin..." Taehyung murmurs, "that's not-"

"Isn't it?" Jimin asks, climbing out of his lap. His eyes flash dangerously, and the other five members feel as though this conversation has been building for a long time. "After all, it's not like you ever gave me the time'a day until Namjoon jumped off a fucking train."

"Because you tried to jump after him!" Taehyung protests.

For a moment, nobody moves.

"Wish I had," Jimin bitterly remarks. "At least that way, I'd be the good Jimin."

"You-"

"Enough."

Seokjin's voice cuts through the tension, and the pair turns to see the eldest with two backpacks and three guns. "We can talk on the road."

"Chim-" Taehyung tries, eyes horribly sad. "Please, please just let me talk to you-"

"Road," Seokjin repeats, and Taehyung can only watch as Jimin turns and leaves, each step another shard of pain in his heart.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, falling into step with the elder. His doe-like eyes gleam with concern, and Taehyung keeps remembering the way he looked as the ground crumbled under him, the way his eyes were so horribly wide as he reached for him, and Taehyung wasn't fast enough-

"I'm sorry," Taehyung blurts, though he's not sure if he's talking to Jimin or Jungkook. Maybe both.

"For what?" Jungkook queries, and Taehyung shakes his head.

"I just- I didn't do enough," he mumbles, and Jungkook nods in understanding. 

"I feel the same," he murmurs, and Taehyung wants to scream, because he doesn't know. He won't know unless he sees his best friend falling off a cliff, unless he has to pull his body out of the water and show it to someone so cracked that he's centimeters from broken. 

"I'm glad they," Taehyung gestures vaguely to the trio who hold hushed conversations, Hoseok on Namjoon's back and Yoongi's gaze flitting between them, "are talking."

"Why wouldn't they be?" Jungkook asks, before his eyes widen in understanding. "Oh."

Hoseok ruffles Yoongi's hair, and Jungkook races forwards to throw himself on Seokjin's back, the eldest laughing as he shifts positions to accommodate the added weight on his shoulders. Which leaves Taehyung and Jimin.

He jogs ahead to walk alongside Jimin, realizing too late that this must be Jungkook's grand master plan - the little shit. Ah, well. It's too late now.

"Hi, Jiminie," he whispers.

Jimin walks faster. 

"Minnie, please talk to me," he nearly begs. "I don't want to lose you-"

"How can you lose something you don't even know?" Jimin retorts, and Taehyung flinches. He knows that line far too well.

"I miss you," he murmurs. "I've missed you for years-"

"Being left out hurts, Tae," Jimin snaps, throwing his backpack into the driver's seat. He guns the ignition, and Taehyung hops into the passenger's seat, counting the others as they enter. "I know that's probably hard for you to believe, but it fucking hurts."

He throws his backpack - a bit aggressively, honestly - at Taehyung, though it's still a familiar dance they know well. Passenger seat has the bags and guns, driver's seat has the car. 

Jimin usually takes passenger seat. He's always been the better shot.

"You know why Joon-ah didn't give you the guns, right?" Taehyung asks, and Jimin stiffens, hands tightening around the steering wheel. 

"No," Jimin replies, slamming his foot on the gas. Taehyung's thrown into his seat, and shouts erupt from the backseat. Granted, it's mostly Namjoon and Yoongi protesting the fact that Hoseok wasn't able to enter his blanket cocoon like they wanted, but Seokjin and Jungkook have their own protests to voice. "I still don't."

"Because he wanted me to protect you," Taehyung smiles, and Jimin bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, tapping a staccato on the rim of the wheel. "He knew I would. I will."

"I don't need anyone," Jimin hisses, and the walls are back up, as high as ever. Dammit.

"But do you at least want someone?" Taehyung presses.

"...Namjoon," Jimin simply replies, and wow, okay, Taehyung kinda asked for that.

"...I can't do that," Taehyung sighs. "But I can be here for you."

"So now you're offering?" Jimin snorts. He's tapping out the rhythm of I Need U on the steering wheel - Namjoon's part. Damn. "Took you long enough. Only four years."

"Jimin-"

The man in question sighs, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm tired and everything hurts," he admits, "so I don't even know what I'm saying right now."

Ouch. That casual reminder hurts.

"But... sometimes I still wish I had jumped after him."

It's definitely a good thing that Taehyung wasn't driving, because if he was, he'd have swerved off the road.

"I just miss him a lot," Jimin continues, oblivious to Taehyung's distress. "I think I'd give anything to see him again."

"I know how it feels," Taehyung murmurs.

(Dark doe eyes haunt his dreams, sometimes with blood-matted hair or frosting on his nose or an impish grin from a kid forced to grow up too fast-)

"But you had me," Jimin challenges. "I had nobody."

It hurts because it's true. 

"I'm sorry," Taehyung repeats. "I just-"

"Stop," Jimin states, raising a hand to stop him. "Stop. That's only part of it."

"So you wish I hadn't come back?" Taehyung challenges. Everyone in the back is listening, he's sure of it.

"What do you want me to say?" Jimin simply replies. "Either I died or I lived alone. Both seem pretty shit to me."

Fuckdamn.

Jimin's wearing his mask right now - the one he donned after Namjoon's death. The 'responsible-hyung' mask.

Taehyung really, really hates this mask.

"Yah! Language!" Seokjin scolds.

All things considered, with how wildly Jimin swerves at that and how many trees they nearly hit, it's shocking that their only punishment is having to swap out with Seokjin and Yoongi. 

But, unfortunately, that means Taehyung has to see:

1. Jungkook, pouting
2. Hoseok, pouting
3. Namjoon, pretending not to pout but actually pouting
4. Jimin, being horribly awkward
5. Yoongi, pouting
6. Seokjin, aggressively ignoring everyone else pouting

Joy. 

Hoseok manages to calm Jimin down, at least. 

Chapter Text

Jimin pulls himself together and drives.

Taehyung and Jungkook take turns comforting each other, but Jimin stares at the road, numb.

Because he has to pull himself together. He can't feel this.

(Can't wish more than anything that he had jumped off the train and fucking died)

He drives.

Jungkook studies him like a creature under a microscope, and Taehyung just doesn't look at him at all. They're scared of what they'll see.

They're scared of what they won't see. 

But some scars are only on the inside. The cracks on his heart that Namjoon healed with soft smiles and steady hands have been torn wide-open, drowning him in a wave of grief that he doesn't want to escape from.

(Just a bit, he understands Yoongi. Just a little bit)

At some point, they fall asleep, and Jimin starts to cry. 

Real, heart-wrenching sobs that make him shake as he rests his head on the steering wheel, tears rolling down his cheeks. It hurts, it hurts so damn bad, and he has nobody.

He's the oldest now.

He's the oldest, so he can't show this. He can't grieve, because it's his job to keep the other two together.

That's what Namjoon did. Spent his energy fixing the others and never fixed himself.

(Probably why he jumped after Yoongi, honestly)

He tries another password in the phone before shoving it back into his bag, grinning as the screen fractures. It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts, and he wants to collapse and cry because he's scared that he'll forget.

He doesn't want to forget. 

"I'm sorry," he sobs, voice raw and gravelly and so fucking broken- "I'm so fucking sorry... hyung..."

The word slips out unbidden, and he wails, burying the noise in his backpack. 

(It smells like Namjoon, fuck-)

"Please, please come back," he whispers. "I can't do this alone, hyung, please, please don't leave me, Namjoon-hyung-"

His voice fractures, and he lets out a choked sob, trying to etch the image in his mind. Namjoon, up on the roof, starlight reflected in his earrings as he smiles at the camera, and he wants to scream or cry or punch something, just to stop feeling.

He has nothing.

He can't do this.

"I-I'm so... I'm so sorry..."

He pulls the camera out of his bag and places it on the dashboard, staring out at the wide expanse of galaxy. 

Namjoon would've loved this.

The camera flashes, and Jimin continues to stare, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"Saranghae... hyung... always and forever."

"We don't... is that today?"

Taehyung knows it's not a good sign that he has to actively remind himself that yes, October 13th is his best... is Jimin's birthday, but it's not his fault! They haven't celebrated Jimin's birthday in four years, after all.

(Jimin surely knew, just like Namjoon knew, and Seokjin before him. They always had a creepy knowledge of birthdays)

"I didn't get him anything!" Taehyung exclaims, flapping his hands wildly. "And he didn't even notice when it was Kook and Namjoon's birthdays! That's... that's not like him."

"We did our own stuff," Jungkook grins, gaze flitting to Namjoon. 

That would explain the four-day absence.

(Even if Jimin did look stressed the entire time, he's glad they had fun)

"We haven't celebrated it in years," Taehyung murmurs, thinking back. "Not after..."

Fuck.

"Was that on his birthday?" 

"Was what?" Yoongi asks, but Taehyung's already spiraling.

"Oh my god- that was, oh my fuck, how did I never notice? How- he never said anything, how could I- I'm so dumb!"

Taehyung howls into his hands, before raking a hand through his hair. "Namjoon died today!"

"What?" Yoongi and Namjoon ask in sync, but Seokjin's thinking fast.

"Nothing big," he immediately commands. "Small presents. Run everything past me. Do not make it seem too big. Namjoon, how's it...?"

Namjoon grins, pulling a cracked phone out of his pocket. "I almost got it," he grins. 

Taehyung stares, before his lips curl into a bright smile. "Ah!" he exclaims. "You got it!" 

"Sure," Namjoon mutters, tongue poking out from between his lips. "Um... just a sec... got it!"

Taehyung's mouth falls open, and he yanks the phone from Namjoon's grasp, staring at a home screen. "How?"

"The password was pjktjj," Namjoon grins, and Taehyung almost cries. "What I would've chosen."

That's so like him.

"You should give it to him," Seokjin states, and Taehyung blinks, gaze flying to the eldest. 

"What?"

"It would help. You've been tiptoeing around him for days," Jungkook adds, patting Taehyung's back consolingly. "He's being weird too, though, so it's okay."

"It's not like it doesn't make sense," Taehyung murmurs. "I messed up again-"

"No," Hoseok interjects, squeezing Taehyung's cheeks in his hands. "Nope. We are positive in this house!"

"Yeah," Taehyung grins, and Hoseok ruffles his hair reassuringly. "Yeah! I'm sure Jiminie'll be happy to see this!"

"He's been sitting on that one rock for three hours," Yoongi mumbles.

"Maybe it's a comfortable rock?" Taehyung posits, idly tapping the phone. "Wish me luck!"

The others give him varying levels of motivation (Hoseok with a bright smile and Yoongi with a lazy thumbs-up being the extremes) as Taehyung crosses the clearing, moving to sit next to Jimin. "Hey, Minnie."

Jimin turns and smiles, a disturbingly vacant caricature of his normal eye-smile. "Hey, Tae-Tae!"

"Um..." Taehyung trails off, shoving the phone in front of him. "Namjoon unlocked it. Happy birthday, Chim."

Jimin stares at it for one long, painful moment.

Nobody moves.

Finally, as Jimin plucks the phone out of Taehyung's hands, a tear streaks down his cheek. "T-Thank you."

Taehyung grins, relief rushing through his veins as Jimin opens the photo app. He taps once, twice, and a familiar voice floats through the speakers. 

"Hey, Minnie."

A choked sob slips through Jimin's lips as he leans into Taehyung's side, gripping the latter's sleeve for dear life. And Taehyung understands - the Namjoon on the screen is their Namjoon, the one Jimin's been missing for four years.

The one Jimin never had a chance to grieve for.

"I'm really, really proud of you, Chim."

Jimin's frame shakes with sobs, and Taehyung lingers before placing a hand on his hair. The elder melts into his touch, tears streaming freely down his face, and Taehyung wonders how long Jimin's been holding in his grief.

"I'm gonna hide this in your backpack."

Taehyung's gaze lands on a blue-black bracelet as Jimin sobs, yanking his backpack off the ground and ripping it open. He grasps a piece of fabric sewn to the inside and tears it off, tears streaming down his face as a folded piece of paper and a bracelet land on the bottom. 

"...you'll be alright. I know you will. Because you're Jimin."

"N-Namjoon..." Jimin whispers, voice shaking as he stares at the screen. "Hyung..."

"Honja jjujeo anja... saenggag man keojyeoga..."

Jimin breaks down at that, burying his face in Taehyung's shirt as Namjoon's soft voice floats through the speakers. He sobs nonsense into the younger's chest, and Taehyung lets him, gaze pinned on Namjoon's ash-grey hair. 

The "saranghae" lingers in the air, left unspoken. 

"Hyung," Jimin sobs, lithe frame shaking as he shakes his head. "H-Hyung, I'm so... I'm so..."

Taehyung pulls the bracelet out of the bag and slides it onto Jimin's skinny wrist, smiling upon seeing the bright colors against Jimin's pale skin. "It's beautiful."

"I'm sorry," Jimin wails, and Taehyung rubs his back soothingly. "I'm sorry, hyung, I let you... a-and they... I l-let you down..."

"You could never let him down," Taehyung assures him, and Jimin shakes his head.

"I wasn't able to protect you two..." Jimin sniffs. "I wasn't... I let him down..."

"I'm sure he never expected you to do perfectly," Taehyung smiles. "I'm proud of you, Chim. You've been so strong for so long... let me be strong with you."

"Taehyungie..."

"I'm sorry," Taehyung continues. "I shouldn't have left you alone, and it was cruel of me to do that. You're my best friend, Chim. Not Jungkook or Yoongi or Hoseok or Seokjin or Namjoon. You. Park Jimin. And I know I haven't been a very good friend lately, but if you'd have me, I'd like to fix that."

"I don't... you don't want me..." Jimin whispers. "I'm dirty... I'm broken... I'm a failure..."

"But you're kind, brave, sweet, and adorable," Taehyung counters. "You're smart, strong... saranghae, Jiminie. I can't believe you're actually real. You're strong, you're kind, you're beautiful, Jiminie, and I don't deserve having you as a friend. I... I just wish you thought the same."

"Tae..."

"Oi!" Yoongi shouts, waving from the van. "Get your asses in this car!"

"It's a van," Namjoon mutters. "A gas-guzzling, environment-killing van-"

"Kim Namjoon, stop being a nihilist for one second," Seokjin snaps, chopping the leader on the back of the head. Namjoon sputters in protest, but Seokjin's attention is already on the far more deserving maknae line. "We saved you seats in the back!" 

Taehyung offers Jimin a hand, standing and grinning at the elder. "C'mon!"

Jimin, after a moment, accepts.

And once they're on the road, Jimin's asleep with a bracelet around his wrist and a phone and paper in his hand, and Taehyung's watching him breathe, wondering how anyone could ever hurt something that shines so bright.

"Did it go okay?" Seokjin asks, and Taehyung nods. 

"He's alright," Taehyung smiles. "Not perfect, not unbroken, but... alright."

He runs a thumb over the purple stud in his ear, lost in thought. "It's not... he's seen too much to be really okay, but he'll be alright. I'll make sure he's alright."

"You're so mature, Taehyungie!" Hoseok laughs. "Where to next, oh leader?"

"There's a clinic a few hours drive from here," Namjoon muses. "They might have a prosthetic there."

"Hoseokie needs a prosthetic..." Jimin mumbles, lost in a sleep-haze. "Prosthetic Hobi..."

"How tired is he?" Hoseok whispers, and Taehyung shrugs.

"Prosthetic Hobi... jus' like prosthetic Beomgyunnie..." Jimin continues. "Nngh.... 'm sorry, Yeonjunnie... I'm so..."

"Aren't those the TXT boys?" Seokjin asks, eldest-hyung instincts visibly kicking in. "How would Jimin have met them?"

Taehyung stares darkly at the seat in front of him, lips curled into a frown. "That's not... he just..."

"He mentioned Beomgyu once before," Namjoon muses. "Apparently he also had a prosthetic?"

"The only way Jimin would know that is if he met him," Yoongi adds. "So..."

"Don't wake him up," Taehyung warns.

His gaze flits to Jimin on his lap, to the dark hair splayed over his thighs and his best friend's smile. His face is peaceful in sleep, happiness taking the place worn deep by stress, exhaustion, fear, and loss. It makes his heart ache, seeing what all this - this responsibility, this work, this pressure - has done to him, and he aches to take the burden off his shoulders.

If he can make it better by telling this story, then he will. 

(It won't change the outcome, it won't change the past, but it could change the present. It could still save the ones they lost the first time. It could save some of the spirits in Jimin's shadow.)

"I'll... I'll tell you what you need to know."

He closes his eyes, dredging up old memories. Months long-gone, the memories of a hollow-eyed Jimin and watercolors rendering frenzied dancing.

2027 wasn't that long ago, was it?

"We lived... we lived at the top of a mountain. It was secluded. Nobody ever came up here, and it meant we could drown in our grief alone, just the two of us. We could... we could dance on dusty floors and paint dry canvases. We could pretend the world wasn't dead around us."

Broken cameras, dusty floors, washed-out tally marks counting broken dishes belonging to a broken body.

"But then they came."

Bright smiles, home-dyed hair, mixing pastels bright on the horizon, "we brought bleach and guns, hyungs!"

"And they showed us how to live again."

A heartbreaking wail, mint mixing with blood-red, loss hanging thick in the air.

"But we showed them how to die."

Chapter Text

Jimin's trying to fix his camera when he hears it.

Tires skidding on asphalt.

He yanks his gun out of his holster - it's no longer Mercy, but he doesn't know what to call it - and races out the door, pulling his hood over his head so only the tips of his jet-black hair are visible. 

The car itself barely resembles a car at all, what with how it gleams - did they slick it down with butter or something? - and as Jimin watches, it skids to a stop, turning a full 180 degrees before stopping.

The first person out of the car has deep violet hair, and he staggers out of the back to retch at the base of a tree. There's a knife strapped to his thigh, and a gun tucked in his jeans, and Jimin can feel the danger emanating off the group.

"Never again," a second breathes, gold hair shining in the bright light. He slides out of the car and leans against the door, breathing heavy as he stares into the sky. "Never... never again..."

"'Driving lessons', he said," a third groans, poking his head out of the car and running a hand through his deep blue hair. "'It'll be fine', he said."

"I think that went well!" a fourth chirps, sliding out of the driver's seat and clapping his hands together. His mint hair is oddly clean for the apocalypse, and he practically skips over to the passenger's seat. "C'mon, Yeonjunnie-hyung!"

"Yeonjun is dead," a orange-haired man groans, allowing the mint-haired man to drag him out of the car. "I'm his ghost."

"How lost are we now?" violet-hair laments, and gold-hair shrugs.

"It's an adventure!" mint-hair chirps. "Think about it! Us five, Tomorrow by Together against the world!"

"They shot at us last time," blue-hair points out, sliding out of the car. Jimin can see the faintest gleam of metal underneath his jeans, and chalks it up to a weapon. "And the time before that. And the time before that, too."

"We're quite attractive," orange-hair (Yeonjun?) grins, resting his chin in his hands. "That just... makes us more attractive targets, I guess?"

Jimin clears his throat, and five pairs of eyes snap to his.

"Please don't shoot," purple-hair mutters, raising his hands slowly. "We're harmless, I swear."

Jimin is so confused right now.

Said confusion is not helped by mint-hair squinting at him before bounding closer like an overexcited puppy. "Jiminie-hyung?"

He grips the hood and pulls it down slowly, though he doesn't move the gun. He's surprised they recognized him, what with the scar down his cheek, the messy, unwashed hair, and the deep bags, but they did. 

"It's me!" mint-hair continues. "Huening Kai!"

Oh.

Oh, he knows who they are.

"You guys..." he laughs, a bright smile slipping onto his face. It's crackly and painful (how long has it been since he smiled?) but it's a smile regardless. "Soobin," purple-hair nods, "Yeonjun," orange-hair makes finger hearts, "Beomgyu," blue-hair beams, "Taehyun," gold-hair hides his mouth behind his hand, "and Kai. Wow."

"So, where are the others?" Kai asks, and Jimin flinches. "Is Seokjinnie-hyung here?"

"...Seokjin died," Jimin states. "Four years ago."

Someone gasps, but Kai pushes on regardless. "What about Namjoonie-hyung? Hobi-hyung? IYoongi-hyung? Jungkookie-hyung?"

Jimin shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. "They're... they all..."

"Minnie?"

A deep voice rings through the air, and all eyes snap to the door, where Taehyung emerges, pistols at the ready. Upon seeing the situation, he lowers them, racing to Jimin's side. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"I-It's nothing," Jimin sniffs, but Taehyung's already assessing the situation.

"Who are- name friend!"

He darts across the lawn to wrap Taehyun in a hug, and the gold-haired man awkwardly reciprocates. Good for him.

"Are... is it really just you two?" Yeonjun breathes, eyes widening. "What happened to the others?"

"Dead," Jimin chokes out.

A silence falls over the clearing, laden with pointless platitudes and empty words. 

"Come inside," Jimin offers, forcing a smile. "We have... food."

He thinks they do, at least.

He heads for the kitchen and pulls out their cookbook, the one with Seokjin's messy handwriting and Namjoon's notes scribbled in the margins. Their cookbook.

The cookbook that has to literally be rewritten to compensate for the inevitable tears. 

The TXT members "ooh" and "ah" at the vaulted ceilings, but Jimin doesn't like to look at them. It reminds him too much of Jungkook up on the roof, a book next to him as he tries to do a patch job and Jimin frets below because It Is Very High Up There, Jeon Jungkook, and Jungkook simply laughs at his concern.

It hurts.

But Taehyung's showing them around, showing them the tally marks, "the mint ones are Ko... were Jungkook's... and the purple ones are mine, and the red ones are Jiminie's!"

"What do they count?" Soobin asks, and Jimin pokes his head out of the kitchen.

"The number of dishes this idiot broke," he grins, and Taehyung squawks in protest.

"How dare," Taehyung gasps, mock-scandalized. "The disrespect!"

"I'm older," Jimin giggles, and Taehyung scoffs.

"Technicalities," he replies, waving his hand lazily. "What're we having?"

"You can pick," Jimin sighs, heading for the refrigerator. "I don't s'pose you picked up some meat?"

"You know I can't hurt Bess!" Taehyung protests, and Jimin groans, resting his head against the refrigerator.

"How have we not starved yet?" he asks, and Taehyung seems to dwell on that for a second.

"Because you set little alarms on my phone to make sure we eat," he finally replies, and Jimin shrugs.

"Not the answer I was going for, but it works regardless," he grins. "Ah, do you guys want to take a bath or something? Tae can wash your clothes."

They look like desperate puppies at the concept of water, and Jimin opts to lay it on thicker still. "It's warm-"

Yeonjun and Kai sprint for the bathroom at the same time, only for Soobin to grab their collars and yank them back. "You know the rules," he warns, and Yeonjun sighs, but nods regardless. "C'mon, Beomgyunnie."

The younger looks momentarily surprised, but follows regardless, letting Soobin lead him into the bathroom. The others awkwardly shuffle into the kitchen, and Jimin grins at them, pressing some buttons on the oven. "You can charge your phones, if you want."

"How do you guys have electricity?" Yeonjun asks, and Jimin sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he pulls some meat out of the freezer. 

"Namjoon made the plans for it around five years ago," he mumbles. "Kook just built it once we found this place."

"Are you talking about cookies?" Taehyung calls, and Jimin shakes his head.

"No, Tae," he shouts back. "You can't have cookies until after dinner."

"...Meanie."

"Minnie," he corrects, pouring some milk into the batter. "If you three want to help, Yeonjunnie, you can cut up the vegetables. Kai, you can prepare the pan, and Taehyun, you can start on a side. I give you full liberty."

Taehyun's panicked face is absolutely priceless, and Jimin itches to take a photo of it, but, alas, his camera is still pretty damn broken, so. 

It seems sometimes like everything he owns is broken.

"How... how did it happen?" Kai murmurs.

Jimin inhales. Exhales.

"Hobi died on the day of the outbreak," he whispers. "Jin died two years later, when we got swarmed in a warehouse. Then Yoongi jumped off a train a year after that, and Tae had to shoot Namjoon, a-and Kook fell off the cliff-"

"Hey, hey, you don't have to answer!" Kai exclaims, frantically waving his hands. "Aish... I'm sorry, Jimin-hyung."

"Just Jimin, please," he smiles, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not a good enough hyung to warrant that respect."

Is this how the others felt, way back then? Way back when they asked them to drop the hyungs... did they not feel good enough?

"What sort of things do you do around here?" Taehyun asks, in the middle of covering rice in something that Jimin doesn't want to know about.

"I..."

Jimin pauses, thinking about it. "I dance, I guess."

Yeonjun's eyes go horribly sad for a split-second, and Jimin's cruelly reminded of Seokjin in that instant. He sometimes forgets Yeonjun's the eldest.

"Can you show us?" Kai asks, and fuck, his exuberance is Jungkook and Hoseok together, and his heart aches.

"After dinner," Jimin smiles.

"We're back!" Taehyung calls.

Jimin turns to say hello, then promptly chokes on his words upon seeing Beomgyu.

The younger's left leg from the hip down is entirely metal.

"What's for dinner?" Soobin asks.

Jimin is having an incredibly hard time remembering how to breathe right now.

Taehyung strolls across the kitchen and thumps Jimin on the back, fixing the problem for him. 

Soobin has dimples.

And Jimin's thoughts are disjointed, tangling and tripping over each other, cut up and minced by grief, but he cannot let them know.

He smiles, a bitter, venomous thing.

"You remind me of Namjoon," he admits, turning back to the meat. 

Nobody moves for one long, traitorous moment.

"I call next shower!" Kai exclaims, and the others exchange looks as he practically skips away, a bright smile on his lips.

"Is he okay?" Taehyung murmurs, and Soobin sighs, hoisting all six feet of him on top of a counter.

"We don't know," he admits. "Some times, he's totally lucid and understands, but most times he forgets whatever he's just said, or forgets what's happening, or forgets where we are. Or forgets what he did."

"What'd he do?" Jimin queries, trepidation evident.

"...about five years ago, he OD'd on sleeping pills in a hotel bathroom."

Time slows.

Then stops.

"What?" Jimin asks, trying to make sense of it. "He... what?"

"I found him," Yeonjun whispers, crossing the room to sit next to Soobin. "He was shaking and twitching and he wasn't breathing, and I musta' screamed-"

"I gave him mouth-to-mouth and made him throw it up," Soobin explains, a slight quaver in his voice. "It was... he couldn't breathe on his own for at least a minute. I think?"

"Beomgyunnie and I were out," Taehyun murmurs. "We only found out when we got home..."

"He's doing better now," Beomgyu insists, though Jimin privately doubts its truth. "We all are."

Jimin quirks a brow, idly stirring the meat in the pan. "And how many pills did that take?"

Beomgyu flinches, and Soobin rises, anger flaring in his dark eyes. "Yah, hyung. That's too far."

"You think that's all?" Jimin challenges. "At least you still have your brother."

"You-!"

"Hey, hey, let's calm down," Taehyung interjects, wrapping a hand around Jimin's wrist in an attempt to placate him. "None of us are thinking straight right now. We need to calm down."

And venom, venom, venom spews from Jimin's lips, once candy-coated words now cruelly bitter. "Calming down isn't going to bring Jungkook back, Tae."

Taehyung flinches as if struck, but Jimin isn't done. "Nothing's gonna bring him back. They're dead, they are dead, Kim Taehyung, a-and it's my fucking fault, if I had been there, if I had found a window, if I had been next to him, if I had grabbed his hand-"

He's spiraling and he knows it, but each word is a knife to the chest and it hurts so good.

"I don't deserve to be anyone's hyung," he spits, wrenching his hand from Taehyung's grip. "I should be fucking dead."

He storms off to his room, slamming the door behind him, only to realize a moment too late that this is their room.

The room he shares with Taehyung.

The room he's shared with Taehyung ever since the younger's nightmares kept him from a full night's sleep, and Jimin wants to howl, because there's fucking nothing for him, nothing that's his own, and he just wants to wallow in his own room and cry his heart out.

He leans against the door, sliding to a seat against the base. Sobs wrack his frame, and he wraps his arms around his legs, burying his face in his knees.

He wants it to stop.

Taehyung has sleeping pills in this room. They have razors, misplaced knives, rope-

But he can't do that to him. Not to the only reason he has left to live.

He pulls a polaroid out of his bag with shaking hands, gaze pinned on Namjoon's smile. Pinned on the past.

Jimin throws his head against the door and howls, pent-up grief streaming out like a waterfall.

"He... he wasn't okay for a long time."

Taehyung's hands still, locks of Jimin's coal-black hair wrapped around his fingers. "He blamed himself. Still does."

"What about you?"

His gaze snaps to those of his hyungs, and Jungkook leans into his side. "Do you blame yourself?" Seokjin asks.

Taehyung swallows, gaze falling to his feet. "...yes..."

Nobody speaks for a moment.

"It's alright, though," Jungkook finally states. "You don't have to blame yourself anymore."

Taehyung nods, a tear slipping out of his eye and carving a path down his cheek.

Chapter Text

"Your hair makes me sad."

Jimin chokes on his tea, gaze flitting to Kai's deadpan expression. The youngest looks revitalized by his morning shower, and though they're the only two awake, there's a vibrancy to the air. "What?"

"It's so... bleh," Kai remarks, waving his hand as if to make a point. "Gross. Bland."

"Sorry my hair isn't up to your standards," Jimin grins. "Some of us need to shower."

"No, I mean... we have dye."

Jimin stares at him, confused. "Wha'?"

"We have hair dye," Kai repeats, and Jimin shakes his head.

"Yeah, I heard you, but... why?"

"Because," Kai bluntly replies, "it's just as important to stay sane as it is to stay alive. It does you no good if you're just as batshit insane as the zombies."

Jimin studies him for a moment, finally spotting the tell. Kai rubs the ring on his left hand with his thumb when he's like this.

His hands still, lips quirking into a smile. "You seem like a red-pink sorta person!"

"What d'ya want to give Taehyung?" Jimin asks, and Kai presses a finger to his lips, casting his eyes to the roof.

"Mmm... mint!" he exclaims.

"Like Mint Yoongi?"

Jimin hates the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Mint Yoongi? An old joke continued by ARMY, remnants of a man who did nothing but kill and ruin everything he touched? Yeah, that's a nice way to start the day.

But Kai simply laughs. "Yeah! Like Mint Yoongi!"

Jimin hates that name with a passion.

Kai stops. Twists his ring around his finger with a fury that Jimin doesn't know is matchable. "You hate him." It's not a question.

"Yeah," Jimin mumbles. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Kai twists the ring back and forth, gaze pinned on his hands. "I hate my head. It's... it's hard to remember. To think. To... it's like threading a needle, but... but the needle is too small for the thread. I hate this. I wish I was dead."

He fixes Jimin with a razor-sharp glare, frenzied movements slowing. "So... so be glad you have a target. 'Cause... 'cause it's hard when the only thing you can hate... is yourself."

And as soon as the lucidity arrived, it's gone, Kai slipping into the familiar dopey smile Jimin's grown to love and hate. "I'll go grab the bleach!" he grins, placing his cereal on the table and heading for the van.

"You're good for him."

It's Soobin that says it, leaning against the doorframe with an unreadable expression on his lips. 

"What?" Jimin asks, crossing the room to pour the cold coffee down the sink. "How is that good?"

"He's never like that around us," Soobin explains. "I think... I don't think he wants to remember around us. But when he's around you and Taehyung... seeing how strong you two are gives him a bit of hope, y'know?"

"We're the last ones someone should take hope from," Jimin dryly remarks. "We're broken."

"But you're not," Soobin simply replies. "That's what's impressive."

How does Jimin respond to that?

"I got it!" Kai crows, sliding into the kitchen on sock-clad feet. "Wake up Tae-hyung!"

"Boo," Taehyung grins, poking his head into the kitchen.

Jimin totally doesn't scream and hit his head on a cabinet. Nope. Not at all.

"Ow," he whines, and Taehyung laughs, crossing the room to rub the shorter man's head.

"Mint Taehyung!" Kai shouts, pointing a finger at the elder.

Taehyung quirks a brow, a smile slipping onto his lips. "Mint Taehyung?"

"Hair dye," Soobin grins.

Taehyung's eyes light up, and he follows Kai into the bathroom. Jimin laughs into his hands, and Soobin gives them a soft smile.

Yeonjun is their dyer, rubbing bleach into their hair and making them sit on the couch for two hours. They pull out the Playstation, and Beomgyu and Taehyun wind up throwing pillows at their heads once they win.

They dodge, and Yeonjun scolds all four of them for being so reckless. Channelling Seokjin, there.

After the bleach sits, Yeonjun washes it out, and Jimin marvels at the soft blond hair that emerges before Yeonjun rubs the reddish-pink dye into it. Taehyung sputters as a bit falls into his mouth, and Yeonjun simply grins, muttering something like "karma" under his breath.

They have to stay in the bathroom while the dye sits, and once it's washed out, Jimin stares at Taehyung's freshly-dyed hair, unable to unsee it.

"What's wrong?" Taehyung asks, raising a hand to awkwardly pet his own hair. "Is it... does it not look good?"

"It does," Jimin manages to respond. "Don't... don't worry about it."

He looks like Yoongi.

It's honestly astounding that they managed to make it this far without incident.

They stop in Daegu, and everything goes to shit.

The city is crawling with zombies, and Taehyung mows over his fair share as they drive, blood and guts splattering on the wheels of the van. But this is still Daegu, even if it's been years.

It's been years.

He and Yoongi are definitely the most affected (thank god their families are out of here), but the others all seem at least somewhat upset at the sight of a once-beautiful city brought to its knees. Well, except for Jimin. 

But Jimin's seen so much, Taehyung privately doubts if he cares about anything by this point.

"We need to find somewhere safe," Jimin mutters, and Taehyung nods. "We're running out of gas and food."

"When are we not running out of gas?" Taehyung counters, and Jimin giggles.

Yes, giggles. It's small and adorable and Taehyung wants to melt but he is, in fact, driving, and melted human is absolutely gross to scrub out of pedals.

A quick look in the mirror shows the others have the same problem, and Jimin has this mischievous glint in his eye that says he knows exactly what he's fucking doing, but Taehyung still isn't immune, dammit!

"We should avoid hotels and large stores," Namjoon muses, scribbling something down on a notebook. "We need to find a clinic..."

"Like people just carry around prosthetics," Yoongi snorts. 

"Well, they may not carry them around, but places have to have them, right?" Hoseok grins, and Yoongi smirks as well, unable to resist.

"We need to be safe," Jimin mumbles. "This place... I have a really bad feeling."

They finally spot a massive hospital, but Jimin seems understandably apprehensive. "...Tae?" he finally states, and Taehyung blinks. "Stay with Hobi in the car. We need the engine running."

Jimin hops out of the car, but not before pulling something out of his bag and pressing it into Taehyung's hand. "Keep it safe, 'kay?" he grins. "I'll be coming back for it." 

And with that, he jogs into the hospital's front doors, a gun at his hip. 

The other four follow, and Jimin stops them in the lobby. "Yoongi, you're with Namjoon," he commands. "Jin, stay with Kook. I've got fourth floor, since the most zombies are likely to be there. Stay safe. Don't be stupid."

He races for the stairs, thanking all the gods that dancer stamina translates to running stamina.

The upstairs is a series of intersecting corridors, and he knows he has to be quick and quiet. Zombies shuffle aimlessly around the building, after all, and this floor does have the emergency bay.

The first room yields some bandages and disinfectant, and the second, a first-aid kit. He snags a protein bar left by an unfortunate doctor, and that's when he runs into trouble.

A zombie lunges from an examination room and nearly manages to get him, but he swings his leg around just in time. It slams into a series of machines, sending them crashing to the floor, and that's when he realizes he's fucked.

There are easily two hundred zombies on this level. And he just broadcast his location.

He goes into overdrive.

He has expert aim, after all.

Zombie after zombie falls to the bullets from his gun, though he gives up a solid five feet each time he reloads. It's five feet he can't afford to lose.

His back is literally against the wall when he sees it.

A vent.

It's in the ceiling just above him, bolted on tight. If he can loosen it, he'll be able to escape. 

He promised Taehyung, after all.

"Get out of here!" he shouts, hoping to whatever may be that the others hear him. If this doesn't worked, he's fucked.

He jumps onto a gurney and slams his foot into the grate, grinning as it falls loose. Thank fuck for the decimation of hospitals. 

A zombie grabs his ankle and he shouts, squeezing the trigger as hard as he can. It falls, and he hauls himself into the vent, comfortable in the zombie's lack of upper-body strength. 

He manages to make it down to the third floor, where a bewildered Seokjin and Jungkook hold what looks to be a large plastic leg.

It's a good weapon, honestly, but also... a large, fake leg. 

"Time to go!" he exclaims, grabbing Jungkook's wrist and hauling him behind him. They run for the stairs, the sounds of growling only growing louder. 

His feet pound against smooth tile as he shoves the two ahead of him, pausing to empty a clip into some particularly entrepreneurial zombies. They don't have enough time!

True to form, by the time they're in the lobby, zombies are already spilling out of the adjacent hallways. Jimin swears, shoving the other four behind him, and gesturing to the van. "Go!" he shouts, shoving a clip into his gun. "I'll be fine!"

"No!" Jungkook protests. "We're not leaving you!"

"I'm right behind you!" Jimin exclaims. "Just go!" 

Seokjin grabs Jungkook and yanks him away, and Jimin watches as they climb into the van. Perfect.

"Jimin!" Taehyung shouts, and Jimin smiles at him.

Honestly, didn't he see this coming?

"Drive!" Jimin roars, backing up further. "Go!"

"We're not leaving you!" Taehyung screams, and Jimin pauses to flip him off.

"Fucking go, you dumbass!" he shouts, because if there's one way to get through to Taehyung, it's this.

Thankfully, Taehyung guns the engine, and they start to drive off, only for the sounds of shouting to emerge.

Yoongi leaps from the side door, racing over with fresh clips of ammo and a gun in hand. "Like fuck am I leaving you alone," he gasps, and Jimin growls, shoving the elder behind him. 

"You dumbass!" he snaps, emptying another clip into the the approaching horde. "What do we do now?"

"We survive," Yoongi simply replies.

Jimin pauses, finally laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Here he is with Yoongi, about to die, and he's not even sure what he can do.

But he can't die now, can he? Not with Yoongi here.

"Other side of the street," he grins, gaze flying to Yoongi's. "Fire escape. Roof. They can't climb."

"Got it," Yoongi murmurs. "On three?"

"Sure," Jimin smirks, taking another step back. "One... two... three!"

Taehyung drives.

He drives despite Hoseok's sobs and Jungkook's protests. 

He's numb.

He's numb and he's driving, because this is what Jimin would do.

He has to believe in Jimin, after all. Jimin is his best friend, really and truly. If anyone can survive this, it's him.

But to travel through the mountains to their home? On foot? With winter approaching? That's... that's suicide.

He drives until they're thirty minutes outside Daegu and Hoseok's sobs have faded to sniffles, and then he pulls over.

Rests his head on the steering wheel.

And cries, heart-wrenching sobs that tear into his chest and make him shake.

Finally, he remembers the thing in his hand. The thing Jimin gave him and promised to return for. 

He opens his hand slowly, gaze pinned on the crumpled white thing in it. It's a polaroid.

It's the polaroid.

It's the polaroid of Jimin and Jungkook in the snow, the two of them happy, young, and free. It's the polaroid Taehyung loves, and the one he'd choose if given the chance. 

Jimin knows this. How could he not?

Taehyung cries harder, because Jimin never intended to come back from this, did he?

Chapter Text

They've settled into a tentative sort of peace now, one that Jimin doesn't want to risk.

Kai's lucid moments come more and more often now, though whenever they fade, he's understandably distressed. Describes the feeling as "something missing".

Jimin can understand.

Though, for some odd reason, all five TXT members badger him for a dance. Which, coming from just Beomgyu is understandable - the younger is incredibly touchy about his missing leg - but from all five of them reads incredibly odd. 

Though yesterday, they managed to recruit Taehyung.

Dammit.

If there is one thing Jimin is absolutely weak for, it's Taehyung's puppy-dog eyes. And damn, is he weak for them. 

So here he is, standing in shorts, a tank-top and socks, about to dance to a song he doesn't know the moves to.

Or rather, shouldn't know the moves to. 

Yeonjun starts the song, and Jimin loses himself in the lyrics, letting the music flow throughout his body. Hoseok's rap hurts his chest but makes his heart soar, old memories mingling with new pain and finally becoming a potent cocktail.

He's okay.

Really.

He throws himself into each and every move as if the world is ending, which, granted, it is. Or rather, already has, and he's trying to breathe life into a corpse. 

Taehyung's eyes light up with each movement, and Jimin doesn't feel like he can give the dance justice, because this is really Hoseok's style, not his, and to dance it in Hoseok's style when the man in question isn't there to see it feels... wrong.

Intrinsically wrong. 

But once he's done and the TXT members are applauding for him, bright smiles on their faces, he remembers why they used to love dance.

It brings smiles.

And if he can make them even a little bit happier, make their worlds even a little bit brighter...

He has to, right?

The sound of snapping fingers catches his attention, and he turns, only to see Taehyung holding his camera.

His fixed, fully functional camera.

"Smile!" he chirps, and Jimin beams, genuine delight shining through.

Seokjin honestly doesn't know what to do.

Taehyung's been crying for the better part of three hours, clutching a polaroid to his chest and mumbling nonsense into the seats. Jimin left instructions on how to find the house, though it dissolves into "you'll know it when you see it" shockingly fast.

Then again, seven years in the future, there probably aren't a lot of buildings left to confuse it with. 

Hoseok isn't much better, having cried for hours before he finally fell asleep on Namjoon's shoulder. Their leader keeps his gaze pinned on the passing landscape, staring but not really seeing.

Jungkook seems to still be in a state of intense denial, refusing to acknowledge that Yoongi and Jimin are gone.

(likely dead)

"It hurts," Taehyung finally sobs. "Fuck, hyung, it hurts. It hurts so bad-"

Seokjin can't help but feel like what Taehyung's referring to is something else entirely.

"I thought I couldn't feel this anymore," Taehyung whispers. "I really thought I stopped feeling this."

He shakes his head, lips curling into a twisted mockery of a smile. "But I guess I can't, huh? J-Just when I find someone who'll stick by my side... they leave. Everyone goes."

Namjoon flinches at that, sadness shining in his dark eyes upon hearing his lyrics used to express such pain. 

(They never really realized how much Jimin meant to Taehyung

On some objective level, they knew Jimin and Taehyung were close. But to see Taehyung this utterly decimated... well.

It's not as if they're not feeling the same, right?)

"...are they dead?" Jungkook finally whispers. 

Seokjin's eyes widen, though before he can answer, Taehyung's already at it.

"I don't know," he states, voice flat and emotionless. "I always... Jiminie was always the best of us. But this early? With this many on the streets? I don't... I just don't know."

"I wish we hadn't stopped," Hoseok mumbles. "I wish I didn't have this leg. 'Cause then Jiminie and Yoongi-hyung would still be okay-"

"They'll be fine," Namjoon assures him, and Taehyung wheels, eyes blazing.

"You think they'll be fine?" the younger hisses, voice deadly-cold. "No. They'll come back, and we won't know them anymore, because they'll have had to kill so many people, and probably some uninfected, too, because humans are sick creatures and Jimin knows that."

Jimin's hand on the smoking gun, Beomgyu collapsing into Soobin's arms, the utterly empty look on his best friend's face as he kicks the body over, red red red smudges on their hardwood floor-

"So do I," he repeats, albeit quieter. "And they knew it too."

Seokjin frowns but doesn't press, instead opting to turn his gaze back to the road. "...so. How did...?"

"How did I die?" Taehyung blithely asks, a borderline-disturbing smile on his lips. "Fucked up, obviously. Hurt Minnie. Hurt Kai. Hurt... fuck. Hurt everyone, 'cause I fucked up."

"Jimin would say otherwise-"

Taehyung cuts off Seokjin with a sharp, pointed laugh, danger laced into each second. "Oh, he would. But I almost killed him, so he's not allowed to talk."

Fragmented memories of Jimin's arm snapping in his grip, tears on his porcelain cheeks and an unloaded gun shaking in his hands-

"Why did I come back?" he murmurs, eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Why did I...?"

(The same reason Namjoon did)

"I fucked up," he whispers, voice low and so, so painful. "I really... I really fucked up, hyung."

And he's not sure who he's talking to- could be Namjoon, could be Seokjin, could be Jimin but Hoseok winds his arms around his waist regardless. 

"They'll be okay," Hoseok assures him, and Taehyung shakes his head. 

"No," he murmurs. "No, they won't."

They stop at a gas station to resupply, grabbing whatever they can before hitting the road again. Taehyung stays between the car and the station with his guns out, one trained on each opening, as if it'll ward off any zombies.

Every so-often, he'll turn around as if to talk with someone, then instantly turn back. Reminding himself of what happened.

(He really misses Jimin)

"Hey!" Hoseok exclaims, drawing the attention of the other four in the car. "TXT has a V-Live right now!"

Namjoon and Jungkook lean in to stare at the tiny screen, Taehyung watching over Hoseok's shoulder. There's a moment where nobody speaks.

"That's... that's the house," Taehyung whispers, voice quiet and oh-so-small. "That's our house."

"What?" Namjoon and Hoseok ask in sync, turning to stare at the younger. Jungkook keeps his gaze pinned on the screen, taking in as much of the video as he can.

"That's the house," Taehyung repeats. "I can see the tally marks and the hole in the wall from when Jiminie killed our C.D. player. I can see the spot where Kookie patched the roof, and the bottles of hair dye, and my canvases, and the polaroids Jiminie taped to the wall, and the closet with all the ammo..."

"If Taehyungie and Jiminie are watching, we're waiting!" Yeonjun beams, and Taehyung's gaze snaps to Kai, who twists his ring around his finger.

Oh.

Kai's better.

Kai's okay.

Taehyung isn't sure why he starts crying at this tiny piece of information, but he does, and once he starts, he can't stop. 

Jungkook slowly types out a message for their dongsaengs, and Beomgyu's soft gasp from behind the camera shows they've seen it. "Jungkook?" he murmurs, and all five members crowd around the device, staring at the comment.

"Jungkook!" Yeonjun exclaims. "Please stay safe!"

"They'll be fine," Soobin grins. "They're Bangtan, after all."

Jungkook switches off the device and they finish the drive in silence, excitement filling the air.

They're going home.

Or, well, Taehyung's going home. But it's impossible not to see the million little things that make it feel like home - the dishes in the sink, the paintings on the wall, the C.D. collection near the television, the game consoles strewn across the floor, a collection of K-Dramas that would put even Seokjin's to shame, video games from over the years - and to feel like it's an entirely new place.

They drive past what looks to be a cow pen on the side of a cliff, and Taehyung's eyes go shiny as he sees it. "The... the farm is on top of the mountain," he mumbles. "I... Jiminie was studying mechanics... before this. Before... Kookie was gonna teach him how to fix the generator if it broke..."

"Hyung!"

Yeonjun waves his hands above his head like a maniac, and Taehyung lets out a wet little laugh as he slides the door of the van open and leaps out, all but throwing himself into Yeonjun's arms. Beomgyu and Taehyun immediately pile on, the latter moving to yank Kai into the hug. Soobin watches from the porch, a soft smile on his lips, though it immediately dissipates upon noticing something. 

"Where's Jimin?"

Taehyung shakes his head, and the mood immediately plummets.

"I... I'm sorry..." Taehyung whispers, and Kai swears, kicking the wall. "He..."

"It'll be alright!" Hoseok exclaims. "I mean, he's strong and smart, right? He'll be fine!"

Taehyung simply cries harder, and Soobin rakes a hand through his hair, heading for the van. "Where's your stuff?"

"How are you so calm?" Namjoon asks, and Soobin fixes him with a stone-cold glare.

"When your last memories are of your brothers dying in your arms, you learn to appreciate whatever you have," he simply replies, and Namjoon's eyes widen.

"Wait, wha-"

"I think they'll be fine," Beomgyu murmurs. "Jiminie's the bravest person I know."

"I'm right here," Yeonjun retorts, mock-offended.

"Mmm... I see no difference," Beomgyu hums, and Yeonjun squawks in protest.

"We have enough space for everyone," Taehyun grins, taking a few bags from an overloaded Soobin. "Tae was drawing some blueprints or something when... well."

"What?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyun's eyes widen. 

"He didn't tell you?" the younger asks, confusion evident. "Really?"

"Tell us what?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyun shakes his head. 

"I shouldn't tell you. You should hear it from him."

Damn TXT and their consideration for individual choices. 

"Taehyungie, are you going to...?" Beomgyu trails off, reappearing at the door. "I mean, I already put Kook's stuff in there, but I wasn't sure if... well, since it-"

"I'll be fine," Taehyung mutters, and Soobin and Beomgyu exchange looks.

"I don't think you get it," Soobin adds. "It's..."

"Not pretty," Beomgyu supplies. 

"What do you mean?" Taehyung asks, and Beomgyu winces. 

"The house... we haven't been able to clean it all up." He attempts a reassuring smile, but it falls flat. "It's..."

Taehyung's mouth form a small 'o' in understanding, though the other Bangtan members clearly don't understand. "I can do it," he assures them, and they can all see the tension drain from Beomgyu's lithe form.

"Thank you," the younger whispers, and Taehyung's eyes go horribly sad for a moment, seeming old beyond his years in that one fleeting instant.

Jungkook hardly recognizes him.

"Jiminie?" Yeonjun asks, engrossed in something on his phone. "Can we have some of your special kimbap tonight? The one from the book?"

He realizes his mistake a second too late, eyes widening before returning to something like normal. "Oh..."

"I'm sure Jinnie would cook for you if you asked," Taehyung calls, voice ringing through the massive house. "You know that's who Jiminie got the recipe from, right?"

He's in denial, Namjoon realizes, gaze flitting to the door. He doesn't want to believe it.

"Yeah..." Yeonjun trails off, lips curling into a frown. "But... it'll always be Jiminie's recipe to me."

"What book?" Hoseok asks, and Yeonjun tries for a smile, but it falls flat.

"It's Jin's recipe book," Soobin explains, returning with a leather-bound book. And it definitely is Seokjin's, Namjoon realizes. He recognizes that handwriting, the recipes, the food. It's Seokjin's.

But the notes on the side, scribbled in black pen - those are Jimin's.

"I'd be happy to cook for you," Seokjin smiles, vehemently ignoring the situation. "It'd be my pleasure."

Yeonjun nods, slow and careful. "Okay."

He heads for the kitchen, humming Serendipity under his breath.

(Each note is like a dagger in Taehyung's heart)

Chapter Text

Yeonjun likes it when Jimin sings.

The eldest (and isn't that a fucking pretty title, "the eldest", as if it's always been that way, wrapped up in a nice little bow, like Seokjin and Yoongi and Hoseok and Namjoon weren't-) has a tendency to sing when he cooks, picked up from Seokjin. 

He tends to steer clear of group songs. The burn on his hand attests to why.

But when Taehyung pulls him into a hug from behind, confessing "it hurts so bad, Jiminie, it hurts so much, I can't breathe-" he sucks it the fuck up, because he is Park Jimin, and Park Jimin has never been allowed to be anything less than perfect.

And he sings.

He sits Taehyung down on the counter next to him and sings as he cooks, words he once vowed to never sing again slipping between his lips as easily as water. Taehyung has his eyes shut, nodding his head to an invisible beat, and Jimin can't help his smile.

He still has Taehyung.

The last note rings through the kitchen before Jimin stops, head bowed and tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

"That was so beautiful..."

He wheels, only to see Yeonjun standing at the door, eyes wide and a bright smile on his lips. "I... that's always been my favorite song..."

He still has Yeonjun.

He still has Taehyung, and Yeonjun, and Soobin, and Beomgyu, and Taehyun, and Kai.

"I'm glad," Jimin smiles, and he means it. "I'm glad I can still reach someone with my singing."

"Beomgyu's gonna be jealous," Yeonjun grins, crossing the kitchen to lean against the counter. "We had a bet going to see who could get you two to sing our favorite songs first-"

"I'm his favorite?" Taehyung gasps, eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"Hyung," Beomgyu whines, trudging into the kitchen. He's in shorts and an oversized tee, prosthetic on full display, but none of them notice. "Why'd you have to say that?"

"At least you're not as bad as Soobin," Yeonjun laughs, moving to help Beomgyu into a chair. "He's always 'Jin-sunbaenim' this and 'Jin-sunbaenim' that."

The kitchen falls silent for a moment as Jimin turns away, a tear finally sliding down his cheek. "...Jin was really incredible," he mumbles, and Taehyung nods. "He... he has good taste."

"I'm sorry," Yeonjun whispers, and suddenly, the eldest TXT member is right in front of him, wiping a tear off his cheek. "I forgot. Please... please don't cry, hyung..."

Jimin lets out a broken sob and Yeonjun and Taehyung pull him in for a hug, Beomgyu joining after a few moments. "I'm sorry," he gasps, gripping Taehyung's shirt like a lifeline. "I couldn't... I should've done something..."

"I'm just glad you're safe," Taehyung murmurs, and Jimin knows that's not true, because the gaping hole of numbness in his heart must be mirrored in Taehyung's. "I... never leave me, Chim..."

"Never," Jimin promises. "I'll always come back to you, Tae-Tae."

Grief seems to have set in.

It's the tiniest of things that sets Taehyung off. From what Soobin's told them, Taehyung used to share a bed with Jimin. Back Before.

(Before being a proper noun, capitalized, a specific time)

And the room was certainly a mess before Taehyung and Seokjin cleaned it up. Bloodstained polaroids on the carpet, blood on the walls and staining the sheets, the smell of death filling it-

But they did.

And Jungkook's woken by Taehyung's screaming, slamming his fists into the wall until they bleed, tears streaming down his face as he tries to understand why. Why why why Jimin isn't here, Jimin's always here, "he said he'd always be here, where is he-"

"Hey."

Soobin drops to his knees next to the vocalist, and Taehyung sobs, all but throwing himself into the younger's arms. "Where's Jimin?" he asks, voice horribly small.

(Soobin can't help but see Kai in his eyes, just for a moment)

"Jimin's coming," Soobin assures him, helping him to his feet. "Do you wanna see Kai and Beomgyunnie?"

"Where's Jimin?" Taehyung asks again, confusion shining in his eyes. "He... where'd he go?"

"Jimin's on his way," Soobin repeats, helping Taehyung out of the room. Seokjin follows, watching as the younger sits Taehyung on the toilet and dabs his hands with a disinfectant wipe, wrapping bandages around the wounds. "Can you focus on me, Tae-Tae?"

"You're so strong..." Taehyung trails off, eyes going distant. "Hyung is proud of you."

Soobin inhales. Exhales.

"I'm glad you're my hyung, Tae."

His smile frays at the edges, but Taehyung doesn't notice.

(Once upon a time, he wouldn't have hesitated)

"I have some water for you," he hums, passing a cup to Taehyung.

(Hate, slick, makes deadly coils in his stomach, and he forces himself to keep smiling keep smiling keep smiling-)

"Thank you," Taehyung smiles, and Soobin has to look away, because this is trust he's breaking-

(Kai's broken sobs as he buries his face in his chest, lucid, always lucid now, veins turning black as he begs for his hyung to save him-)

Taehyung downs the cup, and Soobin's gaze lands on Seokjin.

The eldest freezes upon seeing how empty his eyes are. They're cold, frozen pools of black, fixed on his own.

There's a tattoo on his neck, a black spot with red lines around it, looking almost like a bite mark.

He doesn't connect the dots until Taehyung collapses.

And Soobin's smiling, so fucking malicious as he tilts his head to stare at the eldest, a broken, cold expression in his eyes. 

"What did you do?" Seokjin gasps, falling to his knees as he presses a hand to Taehyung's wrist, praying for a pulse.

"I-"

His voice breaks, and he at least has the good grace to look ashamed as he stares at his hands, clenching and unclenching them repeatedly. "I just... I couldn't. I needed him to stop."

"Stop-"

"It was his fault!" Soobin nearly shrieks, tears streaming down his face. "You don't..."

Seokjin stares at TXT's leader, and, for the first time, sees someone truly broken.

"Why?" he asks, voice quiet. "Soobin..."

The leader laughs, bordering on unhinged as he reaches up to grip his hair, and Seokjin sees, the jagged scar snaking across his neck, hacked with a blunt knife, and he knows.

And he crumbles.

He pulls his knees to his chest, burying his face in his thighs. "I j-just... wanted it to s-stop..."

Seokjin slides across the tile to Soobin's side, careful to stay a safe distance away. "E-Every time he speaks... i-it's like I'm back there, b-back having to press a gun to K-Kai's head and h-having him stare at me a-and not know why, be-because I failed him twice..."

He raises a bottle of sleeping pills in one hand, still almost entirely full. "T-There's only two, I j-just couldn't..."

Soobin's acting erratic, Seokjin knows, and even though he doesn't know the TXT leader as well as he'd like to, he knows this is out of character.

"What's really going on?" the eldest asks, and Soobin laughs, though it's choked by tears.

"God, I c-can't believe this is how this is going," he sniffs. "My f-first real conversation with Jin-sunbaenim a-and it's after I slipped sleeping pills to Tae-hyung."

"It's weird," Seokjin admits. "How about I take Tae-Tae to bed, and we can talk in the living room?"

He lifts the sleeping vocalist in his arms, somewhat relieved - Taehyung looks so peaceful in sleep - and places him on the bed, heading out to the living room.

Soobin sits on the couch, staring at nothing. 

"What you did isn't okay," Seokjin murmurs, taking a seat next to him. "And I need you to know that."

"I d-do..." Soobin whispers. "I d-don't want to feel this way..."

"Hey, hey, it'll be okay," Seokjin soothes, pulling Soobin into his arms. The younger bawls into his chest, all six feet of him shaking with the force of his grief, and Seokjin understands.

He's seen this before.

"You never talked to Jimin, did you?"

A shake of the head.

"You never talked to anyone, did you?"

Another shake of the head.

"Oh, Soobin..."

"I'm s-sorry," Soobin chokes out, dark eyes swimming with tears. "I'm s-so sorry..."

The next time Seokjin sees Jimin, he's going to yell at him.

After hugging him, of course. He's not some sort of monster.

"What happened?" Seokjin asks, voice calm. "You can start from the beginning, Soobin."

Soobin sucks in a shuddering breath and exhales slowly, clearly trying to calm himself down. "O-Okay. So Jimin came home with Tae and Junnie, a-and Jimin wouldn't talk about it, b-but Tae and Junnie got bit, s-so Jimin told us to take care of Junnie, a-and he'd take care of Tae. S-So we tried to make Junnie comfortable, b-but he turned and g-got Gyunnie, a-and Hyunnie, a-and Kai, a-and I shot him in the head..."

He has to take a moment to wipe at the tears streaming down his face, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Gyunnie a-asked me to help them. T-To kill them. A-And I couldn't s-say no, 'c-cause they're m-my family. S-So I loaded the g-gun, a-and I p-pointed it a-at Beomgyu, a-and I shot him..."

Soobin slides away and curls in on himself, the words floating from between his knees. "T-Then I s-shot Taehyunnie, a-and then I h-had to look a-at Kai, w-who d-didn't know what w-was going on, a-and I put the g-gun to his forehead, a-and h-he looked a-at me, a-and asked w-why, a-and I pulled the t-trigger..."

He sucks in a breath, shaking like a leaf in the wind. "A-And then I h-heard Jiminie's scream, a-and Tae, a-and I had t-to get o-out, s-so I went t-to the r-river, a-and I s-still had the g-gun, a-and I p-put it to my forehead, j-just like I d-did for K-Kai, a-and I p-pulled t-the trigger..."

He dissolves into sobs, and Seokjin pulls him into his arms, letting the younger sob.

"What's going on?"

Namjoon's familiar tenor has never been more welcome, and Seokjin tips his head over the back of the couch, letting the leader see his armful of sobbing maknae. Namjoon nods, rounding the couch to sit next to Seokjin, and Soobin lifts his head from Seokjin's shirt long enough to stare at the elder in awe.

"I'm sorry," Soobin whispers, and Namjoon hums, opening his arms in silent invitation. Soobin immediately latches onto him like a starfish, and Namjoon grins, dimples popping out as he runs a hand through Soobin's hair.

"Have you ever had Jimin's hugs?" Seokjin asks, and Soobin shakes his head. "Oh, they're the best. When Jimin gets back, we need to shame him."

Soobin frowns, eyes going cold and sharp. "Seokjin-sunbaenim, I may be younger, but I think you're being a bit naive here."

Seokjin flinches at the total personality 180, and instantly sees it for what it is.

Compartmentalizing.

There's Leader-Soobin and Hyung-Soobin and Fighter-Soobin and On-Stage-Soobin and Cute-Soobin and just plain Soobin, though the last one isn't seen much. He's become an expert at it.

"Is a little hope such a bad thing?"

Soobin stares at Namjoon, who sits cross-legged on the cushion, hair sticking up and eyes gleaming the way they do when he's about to expose the secrets of the universe. "After all, hope is what keeps us going. The hope for a better tomorrow."

Soobin tilts his head slightly, and Seokjin can't help but feel as though he's old beyond his years. Which, clearly, he is, but that's beside the point. "Jimin always said that hope was fleeting," he mumbles. "Like a butterfly. Fragile, beautiful, and dead."

His lips take on a bitter twist, and he continues, words almost mocking. "Never when he knew we were there, of course, but always when we weren't. Like he thought we were dumb enough that he didn't need to say it, naive like children, never mind the shit we've done-"

"It's too early for nihilism," Beomgyu gently scolds, and Soobin's head whips around, adoration filling his dark eyes. "Jiminie says a lot of things, Soobinnie. That doesn't mean they're all worth listening to."

"I know," Soobin hums, tipping his head over the back of the couch. Beomgyu crosses the room, cupping Soobin's head in his hands, and Seokjin and Namjoon simply watch in shock. "No nihilism before eleven."

"Preferably none ever," Beomgyu hums, "but I'll take what I can get."

In his mind, Seokjin adds another Soobin to the list - Happy-Soobin.

It's adorable.

Chapter Text

"Here's to eight years."

There's nine men sitting around a fire in the woods, scars coating exposed skin and snaking around their hands, backs, chests - pretty much everywhere. One seems to be missing an eye, gouged out by claw-like hands, has a permanent limp from where a wound hasn't quite healed correctly, and the veins up the side of his face are pitch-black, but he's alive.

It's been eight years, and they're all alive.

They're lucky as hell, and they know it.

Hongjoong raises a glass, sarcastic joy dripping from his lips. Seonghwa follows suit, then Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho.

"Aren't you going to join us, hyung?" Jongho asks, eyes wide with concern.

Eight pair of eyes snap to the ninth member of their motley crew, and he laughs, revealing a heart-shaped smile. 

"I might as well," Hoseok smiles, taking the offered can of beer and popping the top. "Here's to immunity."

San and Hongjoong toast to that, the other six exchanging worried looks. Which they understand, honestly.

Hard to toast to something they don't have.

"That's a terrible toast," Seonghwa interjects, raising his own can. "Here's to family."

"Here's to family!" the other eight shout, and it's a surprise to nobody when San attempts to chug his drink, only to choke on it. Mingi thumps his back, laughing into his own beer, and Hongjoong and Seonghwa watch from the other side of the fire, a fond sort of exasperation in their eyes.

"Catch!" Wooyoung shouts, and Yunho catches the empty cans the younger throws at his head, grinning as all five find their way into his hands.

"Ha!" he laughs, before it turns into a sputtered gasp when Wooyoung pegs him in the forehead with one. "Hey!"

He shakes the can into his hands through a truly impressive amount of wiggling, mischief glinting in his eyes once he finishes. "Believe it or not," he grins, raising the cans in his hands, "I can juggle!"

It takes them a moment to grasp the double meaning, but once they do, they're laughing, because it's so damn stupid, and yet Yunho's smiling so wide that they can't not.

"Happy thirteen!" Mingi shouts from the other side of the fire, and Yunho's eyes widen, the elder nearly reaching across the fire to high-five his friend. Seonghwa yanks him back, of course, but it still almost happens.

"You're quiet tonight," Hongjoong notes, and Hoseok smiles, seeming almost wistful as he stares into the night sky. "What's going on?"

"Just wondering where the others are," Hoseok muses. "I know we're staring at the same sky."

"How do you know?" Hongjoong asks, and Hoseok smiles again, resting his chin on his fists.

"Because I know my family," he hums. "And I know they're still out there. I've just gotta find them, 's all."

Six months pass in a hurry, Hoseok's found.

There's stuff to build and recipes to learn and farms to tend, and Taehyung thrives here. He knows all of the animals by name, directs all of the work, and just seems so alive.

(Even if there are days where Taehyung mumbles Jimin's name under his breath, even if there are days where he jumps around them, convinced they're dead)

But he's dreaming.

He's dreaming of boys he doesn't know and nights he hasn't had, running through a dead Seoul with dye-tipped hair and scars lacing their arms. It feels like their Run MV, but at the same time, far more real.

Even if their faces and names are lost, he can still remember their voices.

But he knew it wouldn't go unnoticed, not with Namjoon and Seokjin watching all eight of them like hawks. And so when Seokjin sits him down, Yeonjun lingering at the doorway, eyes hope-sick, he knows what he has to say.

"I don't know their names," he murmurs, gaze pinned on the floor. "I barely know their faces. All I have is one thing."

"What is it?" Seokjin presses, apparently hoping to hear something about his friends.

"...Jongho."

"Like ATEEZ's Jongho?" Yeonjun asks, and Hoseok frowns, trying to dredge up association.

"I... I remember a meeting in a square," he slowly continues. 

Cold cold cold snow swirling around them as Mark stands, Jackson by his side-

"There were a lot of people there..."

EXO's Junmyeon, Sehun, and Kai, VIXX's N and Ravi (the latter gives him a small wave), SHINEE's Taemin, GOT7's Yugyeom, and Hongjoong and Seonghwa by his side, to name a few. There are others, of course, but he's still staring at the men on the makeshift podium.

"But there were... there were so many people missing."

"We've all lost someone," Jackson murmurs, and all of the assembled idols nod in agreement. "Our families. Our groupmates. There are so many people that should be here today, but aren't."

"And there was..."

A small hand slides into his, and Hoseok turns, only to see Jimin's dark eyes pinned on the podium.

"Jimin was there."

Seokjin quirks a brow, confusion evident. "Hobi, are you sure this is really what happened? You died. Jimin died."

"I know what I saw!" Hoseok exclaims.

"Could you do it?" Jimin murmurs, and Hoseok blinks, confused. "Could you give this up?"

His dark eyes shine with guilt, and Hoseok nods, pulling the younger into his side.

"In a heartbeat," he murmurs. "I always would."

"It's not true," Seokjin bluntly states. "They're just dreams, Hope-ah."

Seonghwa limps up to the stage, helped by Hoseok and Hongjoong. The cure may exist, but with the way his leg's seized up like metal, there's not much it can do to save him.

"If they're dreams..."

"We lost everything in this outbreak. We lost everyone. We lost our dreams and families. If there's any way to go back..."

"If they are... then why?"

"I want to take it. I'm going to take it. I'm going to see Jongho again."

"Why are they so sad?"

"I know if it was me who was back there, and Jongho standing on this stage, he wouldn't hesitate. And I'm his hyung, after all. I'm absolutely going to save him."

"Why are they so real?"

"I agree," someone calls from the back of the crowd.

Hoseok's head whips to see a familiar head of black hair, and he's racing through the crowd to throw his arms around the man, burying his head in the elder's hair.

"Why..."

"Hyung," Hoseok breathes, and Yoongi reaches up to run his fingers through the younger's hair, holding him as he sobs.

"Why do they feel so much like memories?"

"Jimin..." Yoongi breathes, gaze landing on the shorter of the pair. "Jimin, I'm so sorry..."

Hoseok rubs at his eyes, trying in vain to stem the flow of tears. "W-Why does it... w-why does it hurt so much?"

"How are you alive?" Jimin spits, and Yoongi freezes, eyes widening. "I buried you. I saw your body."

Seokjin and Yeonjun exchange looks, the elder eventually pulling Hoseok into his arms. "I know you want to see Jiminie and Yoongi," Seokjin soothes, and Hoseok stiffens in his grip. "And I wish they were okay too. But this isn't real-"

"It should've been Namjoon-ah," Yoongi murmurs. "I don't know how I'm alive. I don't even know that I am. All I know is that Namjoon carried me to you."

"It is real!" Hoseok nearly shrieks, twisting out of Seokjin's grasp. "You're wrong! It is real!"

"You should be dead."

"It has to be real..."

Seokjin and Yeonjun exchange looks as if to say "look-at-the-poor-baby-in-denial" and Hoseok isn't having it.

"If it's not real, then explain this!" Hoseok roars, yanking his sweatpants up to his hip.

The prosthetic gleams in the sunlight, as clear as ever, but that's not what they're looking at.

His veins up to the hip are a dark grey. Not the black of infection, but dark grey.

"We're immune, I guess," Yoongi drawls, ruffling his dark hair with his free hand. "Lucky us."

"Hoseok..." Seokjin breathes, hand falling to the gun at his hip.

"Then..."

"You know it's real," Hoseok murmurs. 

"They died... for nothing?"

He swallows, squeezes his eyes shut. He has to take this gamble.

"I killed my brothers... for nothing?"

"It's real. And I think Soobin would agree with me."

"Holy- get the first aid kit, Yunho!"

Seonghwa tosses the command over his shoulder as he presses a towel to the gaping wound in his patient's side, gaze flitting to the elder of the pair. The younger looks half-dead, skin ashen and the familiar grey lines of immunity snaking up his side from the bite, but that won't matter a whit if he bleeds out, will it?

"How could you let this happen?" he demands, and Hongjoong pulls out the gauze, trying to shift the injured man as little as possible. "You had one job!"

"I know," the elder murmurs, reaching down to interlace his fingers with the younger's. "I know. I messed up."

"Do you at least remember now?" Hongjoong asks, and the man nods.

He doesn't look a great deal better, the leader privately muses, eyeing his messy black hair and the panda-like bags under his eyes. Still, at least they're not dead.

"I can't believe I messed up this bad," Yoongi murmurs, and Seonghwa snorts, ceding his position to Yeosang. "I... this wasn't supposed to happen..."

"Hyung, you know you can't be here," Yeosang warns, and Seonghwa relents, standing and moving to the edge of the clearing while the immune members work. "Yoongi-sunbaenim, can you tell me what happened?"

"I didn't see them coming," Yoongi murmurs. "Jimin pushed me out of the way..."

Mingi silently offers him a blanket, and Yoongi takes it, moving to sit near the fire. "We got separated from the rest of Bangtan six months ago."

He inhales, exhales, scrubs his face with his hands. "We got swarmed. We were only a few hours away from the house, and just... this massive hoard came at us. Jimin pushed me behind him and told me to start the bike - it's a little bit away if you were curious - and when I looked back, there was just... just blood, everywhere..."

He sucks in a shaky breath, burying his head in his hands. "I screwed up."

"He's not gonna bleed out," Yeosang states, giving Mingi a fist-bump with his free hand.

"You have the best doctors in the woods here," San smiles, and Yunho laughs.

"They're the only doctors in the woods," Yunho grins, and Wooyoung perks up.

"You mean they're better than Seonghwa?" the younger comments, and Seonghwa squawks, indignation evident.

"You-"

"Guys," Hongjoong interjects, and the group falls silent. "Yoongi-sunbaenim, could you tell us where this house is?"

"If you're going to hurt them, I swear-"

Yoongi looks like a porcupine in this moment, Yunho thinks, and Hongjoong must see the same. "No, no!" he hastens to assure the elder. "We were just going to sail to California, and we wanted to bring them with us."

"Yeonjunnie is with them," Wooyoung adds, and it's clear to see he's already sold. "I'm really excited to see him!"

Yoongi's eyes widen, and the group all knows he's too far gone. Nobody can resist Wooyoung.

Sure enough, a sigh slips through the eldest's mouth, and he pulls his knees to his chest, the firelight flickering in his eyes. "...we were going into the mountains. Jimin knows where we're going, not me."

"He'll be okay," Jongho murmurs, and Yoongi's eyes widen as if he's seen a ghost. Which, granted, he has. "Yeosang is the best doctor I know."

"Such disrespect from my dongsaengs," Seonghwa grumbles. "You try and help, and all you get in return is teasing-"

"You're easy to tease," Wooyoung smiles, and Seonghwa squawks.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Yoongi asks, and Wooyoung's eyes widen upon noticing the question is directed at him. "I-"

He's cut off by Wooyoung throwing his phone at his head.

Yoongi unlocks the phone and taps a few buttons, raising the phone to his ear.

Everyone collectively holds their breath.

Finally, Yoongi's lips curl into a gummy smile and he curls in on himself, voice dropping at least ten decibels. "Hey, hyung. It's Yoongi."

Chapter Text

He finds Jungkook and Taehyung's graves on a cold winter day.

There's not much to mark them. Just a BTS album sitting in a plastic bag on a rock, words crudely carved into rock.

"Jeon Jungkook. 1 September 1997 - 18 February 2025."

"May he be in his own utopia."

"Kim Taehyung. 30 December 1995 - 13 June 2027."

"May he sleep with the rest."

He doesn't need to ask who the rest is. 

The photo does it for him.

It's a polaroid of Taehyung, Jungkook, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi, taken seemingly without the latter's approval. Taehyung has an arm around Jungkook's waist, and Hoseok pokes Yoongi's cheek, while Namjoon laughs at whoever's behind the camera.

It's idyllic. Beautiful.

Temporary.

He only becomes aware that he's fallen once he's on the ground, Seonghwa's hand on his back and Hongjoong's rife at the ready. "What is it?" someone - probably Jongho - asks, gaze pinned on the road.

"Something's approaching," Hongjoong states, and Hoseok privately thinks that calling them 'something' is a bit insulting to all the other 'something's out there, but that's not really his position to say. "It doesn't look dead."

Wooyoung leans around Hongjoong to look, and his eyes light up. "That's Jimin-sunbaenim!"

"How the hell?" Yeosang asks, confusion evident. "That's a silhouette, Wooyoung."

"He has a Jimin radar," Yunho states, and Yeosang shrugs.

Hoseok staggers to his feet, eyes wide and hope filling his chest. Please, please let it be Jimin.

A beam of sunlight shines through the trees and catches the man's face just right, and god. 

It's Jimin.

"Jimin," he breathes.

The younger dancer seems to not have heard him, earbuds wedged into his ears and humming a soft melody under his breath. 

He's either confident in the lack of zombies, or suicidal.

"Jimin," he repeats, louder.

Finally, that seems to spur the younger into action, as he raises his head and stops short. 

The earbuds fall out of his ears.

"Hobi?" he breathes, tears shining in his eyes.

Hoseok lets out a choked sob and races forwards, wrapping his arms around Jimin's midsection. "Minnie..."

The younger smells like snow.

"Are you... how are you here?" Jimin breathes, and Hoseok shakes his head, running his fingers through Jimin's hair.

"I thought you were dead," the elder whispers, and Jimin buries his face in Hoseok's shirt, tears seeping into the fabric. "God, Jimin-"

"I thought you were dead," Jimin echoes, though it's clear he means it. "God, Hobi, it's been nine years. How... where were you? It's been nine years. How are you not dead?"

"I had a little help," Hoseok sniffs, gesturing to the eight Ateez members. 

Hongjoong gives him an awkward little thumbs-up.

"Thank you," Jimin breathes, darting over to the leader and shaking his hand. "Thank you so much."

Hongjoong looks as though he's ascended to another plane of existence.

"Hyung?" San asks, leaning over to poke Hongjoong's cheek. "Hyung?"

Hongjoong looks dead. As in, his spirit seems to have vacated his body. 

"I think you killed him," Mingi solemnly states.

Wooyoung stares at Jimin as though he's seeing the northern lights.

"Is this normal?" Jimin asks, and Hoseok shrugs. 

"He really likes you?" the eldest offers, and Jimin shrugs. 

"That's fair."

"Jimin?" someone calls, and Jimin's face goes white. "Where are you?"

"Wha- dammit!" Jimin shouts, irritation flashing into his eyes. "You're not supposed to follow me!"

A man clad in white steps out of the forest, and Hoseok immediately scans him for signs of danger. He has violet-tipped black hair, a gun at his waist, and what looks to be a knife peeking out of the tip of his combat boots.

Oh, and a hunting rifle slung over his back.

"I'm allowed to worry," the man deadpans, and Jimin rolls his eyes. 

"You're five years younger than me," the older sighs. "Let me be the hyung for once."

"Soobin?" Wooyoung asks, and Seonghwa exhales, breath forming clouds in front of him. He looks absolutely done.

"How the hell does he know all of this?" Seonghwa asks, and Yunho stares at him.

"He's friends with Yeonjun," Yunho states, and Seonghwa sighs.

"Guess I should've guessed that."

"Wooyoung!" Soobin grins, rushing forwards to shake Wooyoung's hand. "And Yeosang!"

"Anticlimactic," Jongho complains.

"Where's Yeonjunnie?" Wooyoung asks, gaze flitting around the forest as though it'll make his friend appear. "Is he back at your camp?"

"And Taehyunnie?" Yeosang asks, though something in his eyes says he already knows the answer.

Soobin's eyes turn sad for a split-second, though he hides his face behind his hand. "They... let's walk."

"Soobin?" Seokjin asks, confusion evident. "Why him?"

"He knows more than he's saying," Hoseok states. "This will prove it, won't it? If Soobin's been lying to us, then I'm right."

"And if he's not, then you're losing your mind," Seokjin frowns, though it's clear the decision's already been made. "...alright. Yeonjunnie, can you find Namjoon and Soobin?"

Hoseok rubs the back of his neck as he waits for the two to arrive, and they arrive remarkably quickly. Namjoon all but ushers Soobin into the room, an arm around his shoulders and his gun in plain view.

Soobin's gaze lands on Hoseok, and his lips curl into a grin as he falls into the couch cushions. "So you remember?"

"Yeah," Hoseok replies, ignoring Seokjin's gawping. "Why did you lie?"

Soobin's gaze darkens, and Hoseok thinks he knows why. "...there are things better kept silent," he finally replies, and Hoseok knows exactly what he means now.

And he knows how to finish the phrase.

"And there are things better brought to light," he hums, sliding over to bump knees with the younger. "Who said that?"

"Does it matter?" Soobin challenges, and Hoseok shrugs. 

"It matters as much as the sun in the middle of the night," he repeats, a well-trodden path by now, "for without it, the moon could not shine as bright."

"What the fuck?" Seokjin hisses, and Namjoon shrugs helplessly. 

Soobin's eyes light up and he grips Hoseok's hands like a lifeline, lips curling into a dimpled smile. "It is you!"

"Of course, Binnie," Hoseok smiles, and Soobin laughs, pressing his head into Hoseok's shoulder. 

Namjoon looks so confused it's almost hilarious.

"You guys want answers," Hoseok surmises, and Namjoon gives him a look as if to say "no shit, Hoseok". "Well, it turns out Soobin, Jimin, Yoongi-hyung and I are immune. We - me, Jiminie, and Soobinnie, not Yoongi-hyung - managed to steal a ship and sail it to America, together with some of the boys from... Ateez, I think. Those people were already working on a machine to send people back in time, and since a lot of us had lost everything, we decided to take it."

Soobin opts to pick up the story there, and Namjoon's momentarily shocked by the cavalier manner in which he addresses the group. "They sent us all back to different times. Jiminie they sent to the start, along with me. Because of how close we were to the others, though, something like... you guys have heard of that thing with the goose? Where one boy gets stuck to the goose and the others get stuck to him, et cetera? That happened to us. Because I was with Kai, Taehyunnie, Beomgyunnie, and you, Yeonjun-hyung, you guys got pulled back with me. I think the same thing must've happened to Taehyung-hyung."

"So you think that by picking a specific point in time, it had the added effect of drawing nearby minds into it?" Namjoon posits, and Soobin nods.

"I'm willing to bet that's why Jiminie seemed to know more about what happened to me than he let on," Hoseok murmurs. "He must remember that day..."

"This is really scientific," Seokjin groans, burying his face in a pillow. "Can you guys explain for us weak-minded fools?"

Yeonjun seems to be equally confused, gaze flitting between Soobin and Hoseok as though there's some connection he's missing. "That... that would explain a bit," he states, slowly, gingerly, as though he's stepping on glass. "I remember things that, logically, I couldn't have been there for. Stuff with Soobin and Kai that I wasn't there for."

"Yeah," Hoseok states, nodding vehemently. "I remember... I don't know whose memories they are... probably Yoongi's, but I remember... Jimin. Jimin, Namjoon, and a book. Did he ever...?"

"Yes," Namjoon murmurs, apparently lost in thought. "Lyrics. Lyrics and notes. That's what was in it. He told me he still kept whatever bit wasn't burned."

"Yeah..." Hoseok trails off, pulling his knees to his chest. "I... I wish this hadn't happened, y'know? I wish Jiminie and Tae didn't have to remember this stuff."

"It's okay to be sad for yourself, too," Namjoon points out, and Hoseok stares into the floor.

"I lost an eye, you know," Hoseok whispers, and the room falls silent. "Lost an eye and fucked up my leg pretty bad. Guess that's what happens when someone bites through your muscles."

Namjoon stares at him for a moment, shocked by the about-face. "Hobi-ah-"

"But I'm fine now!" Hoseok chirps, folding his hands under his chin. "Trust me, Joonie! I'm fine!"

"It's okay to not be fine," Namjoon murmurs, and Hoseok stiffens, standing and moving to the door.

He pauses, one hand on the doorframe and back turned to the four on the couch, and he turns back, a sickly-sweet smile on his lips. "No, Joonie," he states, voice utterly devoid of emotion. "It's really not."

"Hobi?"

Jimin's hands ghost over the old wounds on Hoseok's face, heartbreak etched in his dark eyes. "What happened to you?"

"You saw," Hoseok whispers, and Jimin presses a hand to the dark lines on his cheek, only to flinch back in surprise upon feeling their chill. "Even immunity isn't perfect, Minnie."

"I know," Jimin mumbles. "I know."

"What happened to Tae?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin just. Shuts down.

His hand flies to his ear and he rubs a small stud seemingly by instinct, eyes going dark. "I... I'm sorry..."

"For what?" Hoseok murmurs, and Jimin shakes his head.

"I... they got Tae."

Hoseok's blood runs cold.

"They got Tae, and they got Yeonjun, and Yeonjun got the others, and Soobin was about to shoot himself when he saw Tae about to bite me, a-and he shot Tae in the head..."

Jimin dissolves into sobs and Hoseok pulls him close, running his fingers through his dongsaeng's hair. 

"It's alright," Hoseok lies, and Jimin shakes his head. "It'll be alright now, Min. I'm here."

Jimin stares up at him with dead dead eyes, and Hoseok's momentarily taken aback by them. "Not forever," he whispers. "Nobody ever is."

And fuck if that doesn't hurt more than Hoseok thought possible.

"Well, I guess I'm just gonna break the trend," Hoseok teases, pointing to the infection scars on his cheek. "What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger!"

"Are you quoting Miley Cyrus?" Jimin laughs, and though it's weak, it's clearly genuine. "God, at least quote a good artist."

"It's Kelly Clarkson, you uncultured ball of rice," Hoseok scoffs, mock-offense laced into his words. "How dare you misquote her?"

"Very easily," Jimin dryly replies, and Hoseok screeches, swatting the younger's shoulder. 

"Such disrespect!" the elder shouts, and Jimin laughs, hand dropping from his ear to grip the pistol in his hand. "Oh! You have a gun!"

"Yeah," Jimin sighs, lips quirking into a smile. "Why?"

"Well, what'd you name it?" Hoseok presses, and Jimin's smile droops.

"It was named Mercy, but..."

"My rifle is named Ddaeng!" Hoseok chirps, and Jimin's smile returns as a ghost of its former self. "You know, killing the antis and all that."

"Doesn't it... doesn't it make you miss them?"

Hoseok presses a finger to his lips, lost in thought. "Mmm... not really. I mean, sure, I wish they were here, but I can't help but think that won't help me. Not really, anyways."

Jimin stares at him, confusion evident. "How...?"

"Sometimes, you have to stop worrying about what others think," Hoseok advises, reaching out to ruffle Jimin's hair. "Especially if that other is yourself."

It's not particularly helpful, Jimin thinks, but it's impactful nonetheless.

Chapter Text

"Happy birthday!"

Hoseok's woken up to Mingi and Yunho presenting him with a small bar of chocolate, and it takes him a moment to remember what's going on. Once he does, though, his eye widens, and he pulls the pair into a hug, a familiar heart-shaped smile slipping onto his lips. "Ah, thank you!"

"No fair," Wooyoung pouts, and Hoseok bursts into laughter at the sight of his messy, snow-speckled hair. "I wanted to be the first one!"

"You snooze, you lose," San grins, placing a small newspaper-wrapped bundle into Hoseok's hands. "Happy birthday, Hoseokkie-hyung."

"You guys!" Hoseok coos, smile growing further. "You really don't have to."

"That's today?" Soobin asks, eyes widening in concern. "Ah, I didn't get you anything!"

"Shame," Yeosang remarks, lips curling into a small smile. "Such a bad dongsaeng..."

Soobin's head falls into his hands, a bright blush coating his cheeks. "Yeosang..."

"Yeosang-hyung," the elder corrects, and Soobin makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a scream.

"Don't you have to call me hyung, too?" Jongho asks, and Soobin's sounds of suffering intensify. "I was born two months earlier than you-"

"Two months is nothing!" Soobin exclaims, intensity shining in his dark eyes. He seems very happy to be right. "Same age!"

"Aww," Jimin mumbles, raising his head to blink blearily at the assembled group. "Soobinnie wants to be older?"

"I'm twenty-nine!" Soobin exclaims, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm not a kid anymore!"

"Don't worry," Yeosang smiles, reaching over to pat Soobin's head. "You'll always be taller than Jiminie-hyung."

"Yah!" Jimin squawks, only held back by Hoseok's arms around his waist. "I may be shorter, but I'm older!"

"Don't be sad, Min," Hoseok beams, resting his chin on the crown of Jimin's head. "You're just the shortest out of us."

"You-"

"Actually," Seonghwa comments, an angelic smile on his face as he pats Hongjoong's head, "Hongjoong, Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, and maybe Jongho are shorter than you."

"Hyung!" Wooyoung and San exclaim in tandem, and Hoseok cranes his neck to see the vindictive grin on Jimin's face.

"Oh, really?" Jimin asks, folding his hands under his chin. "Take that, life. I win."

Hongjoong looks like he wants to sink into the earth as Seonghwa pats his hair, and Hoseok can't blame him. "Our leader is short," the eldest Ateez member comments, and Hongjoong screams into his hands. "Short, short, short-"

"We get it," Hongjoong gripes, swatting Seonghwa's hands away. "You can stop petting my hair now!"

"No," Seonghwa buntly replies, hooking his legs around the younger's shoulders. 

"But-"

"No," Seonghwa repeats, running his fingers through Hongjoong's dirty hair. "Hyung rights."

"I don't need presents," Hoseok murmurs, a thought occurring to him. "You guys are all I need."

Jimin coos, pressing himself back into Hoseok's chest. "Aww, Hoseokkie!"

"It's true," Hoseok murmurs, hooking his arms around Jimin's chest. "I missed you, Minnie."

Jimin seems to know what he means without him having to say it. "I love you too."

Today's one of the bad days. 

Today's one of the days where Taehyung wakes up crying, pleading for Jimin. Today's one of the days where Kai's memories get tangled up in each other and he can't quite remember what's real and what's a memory. Today's one of the days where Hoseok's suffering from phantom pains up his leg and he can't get out of bed, downing painkillers in an effort to make it stop.

Today's one of the days where Soobin's slipping. 

"Binnie?" Yeonjun tries, raising his hand in front of the borderline-catatonic leader. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"It's not fair," Soobin murmurs, gaze horribly distant. "It was over, it was over, a-and we kept finding them, we kept finding more and more people who j-just gave up..."

"How many fingers?" Yeonjun repeats, and Soobin's eyes focus for a moment before glazing over.

"Three," the younger whispers. "There's..."

"Where's the game system?" Kai chirps, flinging himself onto the couch. 

Soobin's eyes widen and he starts to shake his head, pulling his knees to his chest. "No, n-no, Kai, I-I'm sorry..."

"Great," Yeonjun sighs, raking a hand through his hair.

In his pocket, his phone starts to buzz.

"C'mon, Binnie, don't you wanna go outside?" Yeonjun asks.

Kai's definitely making a lot of noise as he fiddles with the gameset. Yeonjun really hopes he doesn't break it. 

Soobin's gaze slides to the mountain view out their massive windows, and he nods. "Sure."

Yeonjun fishes his phone out of his pocket and stabs it with his index finger in hopes of picking up, and he balances it on his shoulder as he grips Soobin's hands. "Hello?"

"Ah! Yeonjunnie!"

Yeonjun's eyes light up, and he nearly drops the phone in his excitement. "Wooyoung!"

"Ohmygod, I'm so glad to hear you're okay!" Wooyoung exclaims. "Who are you with?"

"I'm with my dongsaengs and BTS," Yeonjun replies. "And you?"

"Wow, that's crazy! We've got two BTS members with us!"

Yeonjun's about ninety percent sure he dies then and there, one hand on Soobin's wrist and the other on his phone. 

Yoongi and Jimin. It can't be anyone else.

"Yeonjun?"

Yeonjun doesn't realize he's crying until a tear lands on the screen of his phone, and he brushes it away while trying to form words. "Thank you, Wooyoung."

"So formal! I don't know why Wooyoungie hasn't caught on yet!"

"Hey, is that Yeonjun? I wanna talk to him too!"

San's voice easily covers Wooyoung's, and there's a moment where the two fight for the phone. If Yeonjun really tries, he can hear Seonghwa and Mingi laughing in the background, and if he tries really really hard, he can hear what sounds like Jimin. 

Jimin and Yoongi are alive. 

"Hey, Yeonjunnie!"

"Hey, San," Yeonjun smiles, nudging Soobin into a chair. "Where are you guys?"

"Actually, we're coming to you guys!"

"What?" Yeonjun shrieks, excitement coursing through his veins. "Really? When are you going to be here?"

"Umm... how long, hyung?"

Yeonjun can hear a distant "three hours" from Hongjoong, and he nearly throws his phone over the railing. 

"Yeah! Three hours!" San chirps. 

"Okay," Yeonjun replies, slow and measured. "Okay. I'll see you then, guys."

"Aww, really?" San pouts. "Bye!"

"Ah, actually - can I video-call you in a few minutes?" Yeonjun adds, and San hums assent. "Thank you so much, San."

"No problem," San hums.

Yeonjun hangs up and pulls Soobin into the house, depositing him on the couch. "Okay, Binnie," he states, voice slow and calm. "I'm going to go talk to Jin-hyung, okay? Can you stay here for me?"

"I'm not a child," Soobin frowns, gaze momentarily focusing on Yeonjun. "I can handle this."

Yeonjun nods, heading for the bedroom where Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jungkook seem to be hosting a group hug for Taehyung and Hoseok. "Jin-hyung?" he murmurs, and two heads pop up from the group. Seokjin, clearly, but also a very bewildered Namjoon.

"Yeonjun?" Seokjin asks, sliding off the bed. "What's going on?"

"Can I talk to you?" Yeonjun questions, and Seokjin nods, turning to press Namjoon back into the pillows. Bangtan's leader falls into the sheets with a muffled squeak, and Seokjin slides out of the bed and breezes out the door, pulling it shut behind him. 

"What's going on?" Seokjin asks, concern shining in his eyes.

"I need you to stay calm for me, okay?" Yeonjun murmurs, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping the button to video-call San.

"What's going on?" Seokjin repeats, concern mounting. "Yeonjun?"

The call connects, and San's face fills the screen. "Hey, Yeonjunnie!"

"Hey, Sannnie," Yeonjun hums. "Seokjin-hyung is here."

"Hi," Seokjin hums, and San makes this quiet little squealing sound in the back of his throat.

"You're still not over this?" Wooyoung laughs, and San groans, burying his head in his hands.

"Hey, who're you talking to?"

Yeonjun watches as Seokjin's eyes widen, and his hands fly up to cover his mouth. A tear leaks out of his eye and rolls down his cheek, and his knees nearly give out before he manages to catch a chair for support.

"Yeonjun," San hums, and two faces come into view. 

"Hey, Yeonjunnie," Jimin smiles, and Seokjin chokes out a sob as Yeonjun passes him the phone, resting it on the table as he guides the elder to a chair. "Wait-"

"Hyung," Yoongi breathes, and Seokjin smiles through his tears. "God, is that really you?"

"Yoongi," Seokjin chokes out, rubbing at the tears rolling down his cheeks. "Jimin... I can't believe you're alive..."

"Jin-hyung," Jimin gasps, eyes wide as he stares into the screen. "You're all safe? You're all okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Seokjin sniffs, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. "I'm okay. We're okay. We're all okay."

"We should be there in a few hours," Yoongi states, raising the camera so Seokjin can see they're in a car. "Wooyoung and Yeosang won't stop talking about food-"

"I'm excited for something more than cold instant ramen!" Wooyoung shouts, and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

Seokjin squares his jaw and stands, fresh determination shining in his eyes. "Yeonjun. Grab the book. We're cooking."

"Can I help?" Taehyun asks, blinking wide doe eyes at the pair.

(Yeonjun couldn't say no if he tried)

"What smells so good?"

Namjoon pokes his head out of the group's shared room, Hoseok slung over his back. "Ah! Hyung! You're cooking?"

"Yep," Seokjin grins, waving a spatula in his direction. "And with better helpers than you, Kim Namjoon."

"One onion," Namjoon grouses, "one time. One time and now I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore?"

"The knife slipped and cut your hand before breaking two tiles."

"...that's fair."

"What's the occasion?" Hoseok asks, blinking blearily at the eldest. "Are we having company?"

"Well, actually..." Seokjin trails off, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "You're closer than you think, Hobi."

It's not even that they're having company, per se. It's more Jimin returning home.

Plus nine.

But Bangtan's policy has always been "the more the merrier", so the more it shall stay. And, well, Seokjin certainly seems merrier.

None of them plan to object.

"Oh, also," Seokjin smiles, placing a small paper bag on the table. "I got you something, Joonie."

Namjoon blinks at him, confused. "What? Why?"

"Because you're my friend," Seokjin simply replies, "and friends loot stores for friends."

Namjoon roots through the bag until his hand touches a small box, and he immediately grabs it. It feels soft, velvety, like something from a jewelry store, and as he lifts it to eye level, he finds out that's exactly what it is.

"What?" he mumbles, popping open the box. "...what is this?"

It's a pair of small sapphire earrings, and he tilts his head as if to ask why. "Huh?"

"Sapphire is your birthstone, I think," Seokjin hums, moving to stir something. "Besides, blue looks good on you."

"I didn't get you anything," Namjoon frowns, and Seokjin laughs. 

"I wasn't expecting you to," he grins. 

A knock rings through the air and Seokjin's eyes light up. He practically shoves Namjoon out of the way in his rush to answer it, and Hoseok winces as it bangs into the wall.

"Hyung!"

"Wooyoung! San!" Yeonjun chirps, and Namjoon quirks a brow as he watches two men tackle the eldest member of TXT. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Seokjin's crying - honestly crying - and Namjoon gently sets Hoseok on the counter before crossing the room to talk to the eldest.

"Joonie?"

He wheels, only to see a pair of dark, cat-like eyes staring at him. 

Yoongi's hair has grown out substantially, though it's clearly been haphazardly cut at some point. It's messy and brushes his shoulders, tangled and knotty, and Namjoon's honestly not sure why his hair is what he's fixated on when it's Yoongi.

"Hyung," Namjoon whispers, taking one tentative step forwards. "Is it... is it really you?"

"Yeah," Yoongi murmurs, opening his arms just slightly. Not a lot, just slightly.

It's enough.

The second-eldest fits into Namjoon's arms like they were made for him, relaxing into his dongsaeng's touch. Namjoon rubs small circles into his back, and Yoongi's lithe frame (already skinny, but now borderline-emaciated) shakes in his arms.

"I missed you," Namjoon breathes, and Yoongi nods. "God, hyung, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Yoongi whispers. "All of you."

And for the moment, this is enough.

Chapter Text

When Hoseok wakes up, he's in the back of a van.

"You're awake!" someone exclaims, and Hoseok pushes himself to a seated position, his head swimming. "Here, have some water!"

They press a water bottle into his hands and he gulps it down, before it's yanked from his hands. "Hoseok-sunbaenim, you've been out for a while."

He rubs at his left eye, irritated that it seems to be shut. "What happened? Who are you?"

A pitch-haired man bends down in front of him, pulling some gauze out of his bag. "Can I change your bandages, Hoseok-sunbaenim?"

Hoseok nods, and the person reaches around to the back of his head to untie the gauze around his face, tossing it into a bag. "It's healing nicely."

"Who are you?" Hoseok rasps, and the man smiles, a soft, kind, almost paternal thing.

"My name is Park Seonghwa," he hums, pulling some disinfectant out of his bag. "Hongjoong and I found you after Yeonjun called us."

"Yeonjun?" Hoseok asks, confusion mounting. "Choi Yeonjun?"

"Yeah," Seonghwa replies, voice even. "We found you on the ground, and it was Hongjoong's idea to bring you with us. I mean... there was always the risk you could've turned and killed us, but... I didn't see that happening. And Hongjoong didn't either."

Dots are slowly connecting in Hoseok's head, and he rakes a hand through his blood-coated hair. "You're ATEEZ."

"Yep!" a crimson-haired boy chirps, poking his head over the seat. "My name is Choi San! It's nice to finally officially meet you, Hoseok-sunbaenim!"

Seonghwa smiles, though it's an exhausted sort of grimace. "San, can you wake up Hongjoong?"

"Road trip!" someone shouts, and someone else squawks as they're presumably hit in the face. "It's the ATEEZ road trip!"

"Road trip!" another person shouts, and Seonghwa looks so done with life. "C'mon, Seonghwa-hyung! It's a road trip!"

"I know it's a road trip, stop hitting me!" a third person exclaims. "Yah, Song Mingi-"

A sandy-haired man spills into the back, knocking foreheads with Seonghwa before collapsing into an undignified heap on the floor. "Ow."

Two others poke their heads over the back, having the good grace to look ashamed. "Oops?" the blue-haired one grins, and the sandy-haired man screams into his hands.

”This is the first impression I wanted to make,” he mumbles, voice laced with a mixture of embarrassment and despair. “This is the introduction I wanted. Falling on my face in front of a member of BTS. Hyung, can I jump out of the van?”

”Do not jump out of the van,” Seonghwa languidly replies, and the man scowls. “This is our leader, Kim Hongjoong.”

”Are you sure I can’t jump out of the van?” Hongjoong asks, pushing himself to his knees.

”Very sure,” Seonghwa deadpans. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you, Hoseok-sunbaenim.”

”Hyung, please,” Hoseok smiles, and Seonghwa looks like he’s ascended to another plane of existence. “You guys were incredible. Especially whoever sang Jimin’s part.”

”Hyung!” someone shouts. “San just fainted!”

Taehyung stumbles out of his room, rubbing his eyes with his sweater-pawed hands. He trips into a red-haired boy (who stares at him as though the stars have descended) before making his way into the kitchen, bumping into someone's back. 

"Wha-"

"Taehyung?"

It's Jimin.

It's Jimin, staring at him with wide dark eyes and unwashed hair hanging in his eyes. It's Jimin, who reaches a hand out to grip his sleeve, almost as if he's not sure he's real.

It's Jimin. 

"Minnie?" Taehyung breathes, and Jimin falls into his arms, burying his face in Taehyung's chest. "Oh my god, Min-"

"Tae," Jimin sobs, gripping Taehyung's shirt for dear life. "Tae-"

Taehyung's hands fall to Jimin's back and the elder twists away, eyes widening slightly before narrowing. "I'm sorry-"

"I know," Taehyung whispers, the movement a painful reminder of what he let happen. "I'm sorry. Do you...?"

Jimin links his fingers with Taehyung's, squeezing as tightly as he can. "I missed you, Tae."

"Jimin?"

The younger turns, eyes lighting up once he spots Soobin. "Bin!"

Soobin races forwards, though one look from Taehyung stops him in his tracks. "Can I...?"

"I missed you," Jimin murmurs, and Taehyung tries to pretend like it doesn't hurt.

(It does)

Soobin pulls a small knife out of his pocket and Jimin's eyes light up, accepting the blade. "Dream!"

"Dream?" Taehyung wonders, and Soobin nods.

"Jiminie gave it to me," Soobin states, "for when I turned 27. Said it was a good weapon."

He lowers his gaze, sadness settling in his eyes. "It was the day after Jin-hyung's birthday."

Nobody speaks for a solid minute.

"I missed you," Taehyung finally repeats, and Jimin nods, tears shining in his dark eyes. "It doesn't matter what happened. You're okay, and that's enough."

"Jimin?"

"Yeah?" the younger asks, head snapping up to meet Hoseok's gaze.

"Taehyung told me you learned Boy Meets Evil," Hoseok beams, and Jimin's gaze instinctively falls to his empty pant leg. "Can I see it?"

Jimin flushes pink, ducking his head and running his thumb over his knuckles. "I don't know... I haven't practiced it in a while..."

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful no matter how you do it," Hoseok assures him. "And your fan club wants to see it, too."

Jimin leans over to see San, Wooyoung, and Jongho staring at him, though the trio scatters as soon as they catch him staring.

(Wooyoung runs into a door, and Jongho immediately starts panicking. Jimin tries not to laugh)

"Well," Hoseok chirps, "I'll let you think about it! In the meantime, I think Sannie wants to talk to you!"

"What?" San yelps, and the other two immediately turn to stare at him. "I-"

"Have fun!" Hoseok chirps, all but shoving the younger dancer into the room and closing the door behind him. San's gaze flits from the door to Jimin, and the elder nearly laughs - even after all these years, San and Wooyoung never quite got over the hero worship.

"So," Jimin smiles, "what happened to your parrot?"

San looks like he wants to die. 

"You're San, right?"

The boy wheels, wide eyes meeting Jimin's. "Um," he eloquently replies, "yeah?"

"You did my part," Jimin smiles, moving to sit on the log next to him. "Blood Sweat & Tears."

"Yep!" San squeaks, voice clipping up approximately two octaves. "Me! Yes!"

"It was really good," he hums. "I was really impressed."

San looks like he would welcome death.

"That was nine years ago," he breathes, "why do you still remember that?"

"Because it was a nice gesture," Jimin simply replies.

San bolts to his feet, face resembling a tomato. "Parrot!" he shrieks, waving his hands wildly. "There is! A parrot! I need to take care of!"

"A parrot?" Jimin asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Parrot!" San yelps, sliding backwards. "Yes! King! My parrot! Bye!"

He races into the woods, and Jimin can't help the laughter that bubbles up in his chest, even more so when he hears a yelp and some muffled swearing. 

"I should get you a parrot," Jimin muses, pressing a finger to his lip. "Hmm... what kind of parrot did you say King was, again?"

"A gold one," San mumbles, face already heating up. "Because he's a pirate king."

"Ah!" Jimin exclaims, eyes taking on a strange sort of light. "Step 1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, let's go!"

San looks like he's torn between wanting to die and wanting to ascend to another plane of existence. Perhaps both.

"You listened to it?" he squeaks, and Jimin nods.

"You guys are good," Jimin hums. "Ah, I've been meaning to ask - why were you even in the mountains, anyways?"

San flushes pink and ducks his head, mumbling something Jimin doesn't hear.

"What?"

"Taehyun sent us a message telling us to meet you guys," he repeats, hiding his face in his hands. "He didn't say you'd be there. He just said to meet him and the rest of TXT. I didn't... I didn't know you'd be there, hyung. I promise."

"Aigoo, what did I say?" Jimin teases, swatting San's arm playfully. "You don't need the hyung."

"But I like it," San softly protests.

Jimin's eyes go sad sad sad for a moment before he slides away, gaze flitting to his feet. "...are we going to sail away again?"

"We're going to be okay this time," San promises, gaze going distant. "I know we are."

Jongho's laugh floats through the air, bright and free, and San clenches his hand into a fist.

"I promised him."

"Shoot me."

Jongho's hand shakes as he guides the barrel of the shotgun to his temple, and he looks like he's trying not to cry. "Shoot me."

"I..." Hongjoong whispers, tears streaking down his cheeks. "I can't..."

"Please," Jongho breathes. "Please, please, hyung, I don't want to hurt you."

The others watch in mute horror as the black spreads up to his cheek, and a twisted, broken scream tears its way out of his throat. "Kill me!"

San drops to his dongsaeng's side, gripping Jongho's (freezing cold) hand as tightly as he can. "It's gonna be okay," he promises. "You're gonna be okay."

Jongho's eyes go blank for a moment, and he lunges at San's neck, teeth bared-

A gun goes off.

Jongho drops to the snow, red red red spilling over the pure white. 

Jimin slowly lowers his gun, eyes dead.

San distantly registers screaming, but he doesn't think.

Doesn't feel.

He can only stare at the body lying on the snow, lips curled into a peaceful smile and tears arcing down his cheek. 

"Jongho!" Wooyoung shrieks.

Jimin and Soobin stare at the body, faces devoid of emotion. Impassive.

Hoseok grips Jimin's shoulders, shaking him back and forth, begging to know why, but Jimin just. Stares.

Seonghwa's collapsed into sobs, emaciated frame wracked with the force of his grief.

Hongjoong lets the gun fall out of his hands and land in the snow, sinking to his knees as it does. 

But San still feels nothing.

After a moment, he realizes the screaming must be his own.

Jimin sweeps his leg around, throwing his hands into the air as he hurls himself into a flip.

One, two, three, step-

It's a war in his mind. A battle between Park Jimin and Jimin and whatever he is now. 

A battle between performance and joy and memory and what the fuck is he even doing dancing like he has the right to taint this performance-

His feet skid on wet stone, and all he can see are dark doe eyes, begging pleading screaming for someone to catch him and even if Jimin never saw it he's always seeing it wishes he could unsee it or even see it in the first place-

Slip, grip the wet stone and swing your legs up, Jungkook-

His dancing is a paradox. Aggressive ice-dancing, he supposes, and isn't that fucking funny, calling him an ice skater when all that's frozen is his heart?

He hears soft exhales behind him, shocked gasps, and he couldn't care less. He doesn't perform this for himself, he doesn't perform this for others, he just... does.

He hits the final pose- breathless. The music peters out, and applause rings through the room, filling the small space. 

"Aigoo, Park Jimin!" Hoseok squeals, throwing himself at Jimin. Before he can wrap him in a hug, he catches himself, awkwardly patting the younger's shoulder. "That was amazing! I love it!"

"Thank you, hyung," Jimin laughs, lips curling into a grin. "I worked hard on it."

There's no malice in Hoseok's eyes, Jimin notices. His eyes keep dropping to the slight bit of silver peeking out from under his pant leg - the prosthetic never fit Beomgyu quite right, and he's willing to bet it doesn't fit his hyung right either - and he can't imagine how Hoseok must feel, seeing this.

A slap in the face, in essence. Reminding him he can't dance anymore.

"Are you okay?" Jimin asks, and Hoseok blinks.

(For a moment, they're thirty-four and thirty-five and sitting on a hotel bed, Hoseok wrapping bandages around his scarred leg and telling Jimin how much he wishes he could dance again with the others, just one more time)

Hoseok knows what he's asking without him having to say it. Has for years.

"If my leg is what this," he indicates the others, Jungkook hanging off Taehyung's shoulder, Namjoon and Seokjin watching from the back, the entirety of TXT piled on top of Soobin and demanding to know how much more he's seen, Jongho looking as though he's had a spiritual awakening while Hongjoong tries to see if he's gone blind, "costs... it's not perfect, y'know? I... when we get out of here... I want to start dancing again. I want to fix this... to the extent that I can. But this much is okay. Seeing everyone else okay... that's enough. For now."

Jimin swallows down regret, hands fisting the material of his t-shirt. "I didn't even need to do it..." he mumbles, and Hoseok reaches over to lift Jimin's chin, a bright smile on his lips.

"I couldn't dance the first time around either," he laughs, and Jimin slowly nods. "This time, I might get a working leg!"

God, how does Hoseok-

how does Hoseok act so positive?

How can Hoseok be happy in a situation like this?

"We're going to be back on-stage someday," Hoseok murmurs, reaching up to cup Jimin's cheeks. "That's a promise, Chim."

"But-" Jimin starts, though he cuts himself off.

(promises are made to be broken)

"Are we ready to go?"

Jimin casts a glance at the house - looming and foreboding at night - and screws his eyes shut, pulling his backpack to his chest. The polaroids inside rustle softly, mementos of a life once-lived, and he feels the irrational urge to pull them out again.

"Minnie?" Seokjin asks, eyes wide with concern - and god fuck Jimin misses his Seokjin, the one with a rife and dark eyes and the specifics of a smile lost to time - but he doesn't voice it.

He never voices it.

"I'm ready," Jimin murmurs, though he's not.

He's not ready, and he's never going to be ready, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

For Namjoon.

Because god, Namjoon would want him to drive away. Would want him to move on. 

But he doesn't want that. Never really has.

how can he look to the future,

if he's still living in the past?

Chapter Text

They run on trains.

Jungkook and Taehyung lead the way just like they always do, Jimin right behind Namjoon while Yoongi brings up the rear. There's still a hole in their formation (Seokjin always watched their backs) and even more than that, the constant reminder that they should be seven.

Not five.

Yoongi curses, emptying another clip into the zombies that scrabble at the side of the train. "What the fuck are you guys doing?"

"All we can," Namjoon snaps, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. "We just have to get to higher ground."

"Sure."

Namjoon stops short, and Jimin runs straight into his back. "Stay here," the leader murmurs, and he gently nudges Jimin closer to Taehyung and Jungkook.

Yoongi isn't moving.

He angles his rifle out in front of him, emptying clip after clip into the approaching hoard, and Jimin realizes he's crying.

Yoongi doesn't cry.

Yoongi and crying is, in fact, an oxymoron, because Yoongi never cries if he can help it. Not around them. 

Or. Well. Jimin doesn't - didn't - know Yoongi could feel stuff like this, was still capable of feeling stuff like this.

(Honestly, he thought that died with Seokjin. Died along with Namjoon's vulnerability and Jimin's immaturity and their-)

The rifle slips from Yoongi's hands, and he smiles.

Honest-to-god smiles, the gummy smile that only lingers in the darkest recesses of Jimin's mind. 

And he jumps off the train.

Jimin screams, and Namjoon stares at their eldest, expression utterly terrified.

"Minnie, I need you to listen, 'kay?" Namjoon whispers, and Jimin stares at him, expression empty. "I'm going after him."

"Hyung," Jimin sniffles, and something in Namjoon's eyes splinters.

"I'll be back," Namjoon murmurs. "I promise. I promise you, Jimin."

And he-

jumps off the fucking train.

Jimin sucks in a breath, exhales, and turns back to Taehyung and Jungkook. "We'll meet at the rendezvous," he states, and Jungkook's eyes shine with terror.

"But- they-"

"Jungkook!" Jimin shouts, and the youngest flinches. "We need to go!"

And god, god, Jimin would throw himself off the train if that would help anything, would slit his wrists and bleed out here and now if that would do anything, if that would send him back in time just five minutes, just so he could do something, do anything to stop this-

but he can't.

Never could.

Jimin drives.

Taehyung's in the passenger seat, gun clutched to his chest and finger perpetually on the trigger. Hoseok's sitting in the back with a sleeping Namjoon and Seokjin, and Yoongi watches over an unconscious Jungkook. 

They're safe.

Theoretically.

It's a brutal punch to the chest that this Namjoon has never held a gun, that this Seokjin has never scavenged for days to pull together a cake for Jungkook's birthday, that this Jungkook-

blessing.

TXT and ATEEZ are going to meet them at the port, since it's safest to travel separately. Before they left, Soobin gripped Jimin's hands and begged him to come back safely, said he couldn't take it if Jimin died.

Jimin promised he'd come back.

(He hopes he isn't lying.)

"Tae?" Jimin finally asks, and Taehyung's eyes snap to his.

"Mhm?" the fellow 95' liner asks, and Jimin heaves a sigh.

"Do you think... do you think we'll be able to have a future?"

"Of course," Taehyung immediately replies, and a laugh slips through Jimin's lips.

"You know," the elder murmurs, "I want to get back to performing. Do you think that could happen?"

"Yeah!" Taehyung beams, and Jimin laughs, grip tightening on the wheel. "I know it will!"

"We can get Hobi a prosthetic," Jimin muses, "and maybe Jungkookie will reteach us the old choreo."

"You always picked it up faster than me," Yoongi chimes in, and Jimin laughs. "You'll be fine, Chim."

"Death flags," Hoseok mumbles, already half-asleep. "So many death flags..."

"I'm just..." Jimin sniffles, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. "I'm so happy..."

Taehyung smiles, reaching a hand out to place it atop Jimin's. "So am I, Chim."

"Stop death flagging," Hoseok mumbles, and Yoongi tips his head back to stare at him.

"Death flags aren't real, Hoseokkie-ah," the eldest rapper states, and Hoseok throws his hands into the air.

"Fuck- I know, okay? I know. I just... this feels too easy. We've barely seen any zombies, everyone's somewhat alive, the three who aren't immune are safe and very not dead... it feels like things are going too good."

"Don't jinx it," Jimin laughs, though there's an undeniable longing in his gaze. "...Yoongi, do you remember Namjoonie?"

"He's right here-"

"That's not what I mean," Jimin snaps, and Yoongi's eyes go soft. "Our... my Namjoon."

He doesn't think he could forget it if he tried. Jesus fuck, he could never forget it.

"Not much," Yoongi admits, and something in Jimin's eyes extinguishes. "A little bit here, a little bit there. Not anything... not anything important."

Breaking glass. Dark, desperate eyes. Heartbreak given physical form, taken out on the one person who never left.

"I..."

"You're gonna be okay. I promise. Can you just stay awake for me? Please?"

Namjoon's voice, broken with pain, but trying so, so hard to stay strong for him.

"Hyung, please... hyung... I can't..."

A shuddering inhale, the subtle readjusting of Yoongi's weight.

He wants to move.

"I can't do this alone..."

He has to do something.

"I can't..."

Why can't he move?

"I'm so tired, hyung..."

Please.

"Everything hurts..."

He has to move.

"I just..."

Namjoon's voice breaks, tears catching the sunset and turning it crystal.

"I don't want to die, hyung."

"Yoongi-hyung?"

Hoseok's thumbs gently wipe away the falling tears, though they're rapidly replaced. "What's wrong?"

Yoongi reaches down, interlacing his fingers with Namjoon's. The rapper's head rests on his shoulder, soft snores slipping through his lips, and fuck-

Yoongi hates that this is one of the first times in nearly ten years - maybe even over - that he's seeing Namjoon like this. Relaxed.

Alive.

And god, he knows that's not true, but juxtaposing the Namjoon in his memories with this Namjoon here, blissful, sleeping, alive, and he just-

feels so damn grateful.

"I'm just..." Yoongi sniffs, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm so happy..."

"Tae-hyung?"

Taehyung turns, only to see Jungkook there, firewood piled high in his arms. "I got wood for a fire?"

"Ah, Kook-ah," Taehyung laughs, "it's okay. We don't want to attract anything."

"Oh..." Jungkook mumbles, expression drooping. "That's okay."

"Hey, how about this?" Taehyung offers, pulling one of the spare guns from the trunk. "Take this."

Jungkook fumbles with the gun for a moment, and Taehyung swears he loses ten years of his life then and there. "No, no, Kook, you wanna do it like this."

He moves around to adjust Jungkook's grip, placing his second hand on the barrel. "Shoot two-handed. One-handed looks cool, but it takes training. Namjoon-"

He cuts himself off, gaze going dark. "If we have time later, I can teach you."

"Namjoon-hyung what?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyung sighs.

"Namjoon... he taught me to shoot."

"But hyung- oh."

"He was really cool!" Taehyung exclaims, flipping his guns around to shoot underhand. "I usually shoot overhand, but he always shot like this!"

He mimes firing the pair of guns, and Jungkook nods, flipping his pistol around to hold it underhand. 

"Does that feel better?" Taehyung asks, and Jungkook nods again, slotting his pinky into its preordained space. 

(For a moment, Taehyung's reminded of Namjoon.)

"Do you think you can shoot it?" Taehyung presses, and Jungkook nods yet again, already squeezing the trigger. "Aish- not now! The zombies don't know we're here, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Jungkook gives him an impish grin, and Taehyung rakes a hand through his hair. "Aish..."

(It's strange, seeing Jungkook so young. Teaching Jungkook how to shoot. Having to remind himself that saying "like Namjoon" or "like Jin" means nothing to him.)

"Yoongi is the wrong person to ask for stuff like this," Taehyung continues. "He just carried around a rifle and was really fu- da- effing depressed."

Jungkook quirks a brow, and Taehyung sighs. "Jiminie always got upset when I cursed in the house," he explains, and Jungkook snorts. "We had so many walls of tally marks, y'know. We counted the dumbest stuff. I remember... you. Well. Past-Jungkook once counted how many pictures Jimin took. Called him a squirrel, too, and painted it on the wall. I..."

His eyes go dark, distant, and he clenches Castor and Pollux as tightly as he can. "Sometimes, I wish I could forget. I wish I could stop seeing the way he looked when he fell. The way he looked... the way he looked after I ruined everything."

Privately, Jungkook wishes Taehyung could forget, too. If only to see the sparkle in his eyes that Jungkook so sorely misses, if only to see the boxy grin he knows.

If only to see a human, and not a shadow of someone he once was.

"Did he know?" Jungkook asks, taking a step closer.

Taehyung blinks at him, confused. "Know what?"

"That you loved him," Jungkook simply replies. "That he was your best friend. That losing him is a scar that's never going to heal."

"I don't..."

Jungkook's broken, bloody body, dripping with water and blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

"I hope so."

"I'm so... I'm so sorry... Tae-hyung..."

Jungkook chokes on a sob, one mangled hand reaching up to cup Taehyung's face. "Tell Jimin... tell Jimin I'm sorry, m'kay?"

"I never..."

"And I'm so... so sorry... hyung..."

"I never told him."

"I love you."

"I..."

"Jungkook..."

Taehyung's voice breaks, and he falls to his knees, harsh sobs tearing their way out of his throat. "I never told him..."

Jungkook bends down, placing a gentle hand on Taehyung's shaking frame. "Hey, hey, it's okay. And do you know why?"

"I... I already know... hyung..."

"Because there's no world out there where I wouldn't know."

It must be two in the morning when Jimin exits the van, nudging Taehyung with his foot.

"Hey," he states, and Taehyung blinks wearily at him. "Go get some sleep. And take Kook-ah with you."

"Who're you with?" Taehyung asks, and Jimin shakes his head.

"They need it more than I do," he points out, and Taehyung furrows his brow for a moment before Jimin shoves him towards the van. "Go, go, get some sleep. I'll call you if I need you."

Taehyung gently nudges Jungkook into the front seat before pulling the door shut, flicking the lock shut after a scathing look from Jimin. The elder lingers outside the car for fifteen minutes, only moving once he's sure they're all asleep.

Pestilence is heavy in his hand as Jimin explores the cliff-side, making a mental map of the space near the van. There's a cliff that leads to a valley below, which likely has good views, though it's typically concealed by the thick forest. It's about a five minutes' walk to the cliff-side, though barely a minute when running.

Jimin dwells on this as he returns to the van, pulling the polaroids out of his backpack and flipping through them. There's Namjoon, Namjoon and Seokjin, one of Soobin, one of Yoongi-

It occurs to him that, no matter how this ends, he's never really going to recover.

Not with his nightmares starring meaty hands and bloody sheets. 

Not with the memory of Namjoon, a bullet hole through his forehead, imprinted on his eyelids.

Not with the simple fact that Jimin is entirely, intrinsically broken.

He pauses on a photo of Namjoon in the rain, and he vaguely remembers his words from back then.

"It's a nice place to cry."

He never asked Namjoon why he loved the rain so much, did he? Just assumed.

Just assumed it was for the same reason he did.

God-

He sucks in a breath, head falling back to stare up at the stars. He's made a lot of mistakes, hasn't he?

A distant shuffling cuts through the silence, and Jimin wheels, Pestilence at the ready. How many?

The zombies shuffle into view, and Jimin tries to count them before giving up. A hoard at his back, a hoard at his front. 

He loads a new clip, flicks off the safety, and aims it right between the first's - a middle-aged woman - eyes.

"Goodnight."

Chapter Text

To Taehyung, Jimin has never been anything but red.

Jimin has never been anything other than bright, brilliant red, fire in his feet and in his words and in his eyes.

But now-

Jimin seems grey.

Jimin is grey and red all over, skin sickeningly pale but hands red red red.

"H-Hobi-hyung," Jimin gasps, hands shaking. "He... he... Hobi-hyung..."

Seokjin's hands are white-knuckled on the wheel, Namjoon staring blankly into the dashboard. Jungkook sobs into Taehyung's shoulder, and Yoongi -

well. Yoongi stares at nothing, gaze utterly empty.

"I wish this hadn't happened," Jimin whispers, reaching over to grasp Taehyung's hands. "I wish I could go back in time and fix this. Why... why?"

He breaks down into sobs, falling into Taehyung's arms. "Why?"

"I don't know," Taehyung admits, and Jimin chokes on a sob. "I don't know."

He runs his fingers through Jimin's hair, gently scratching the elder's scalp. "You know what I do know, though?"

"What?" Jimin whispers.

Taehyung's smile is watery and shaky as he continues, but someone has to be strong, and Jimin can't be that person right now. "Everything will be okay as long as we're together."

"But Hobi-hyung-"

"Me and you," Taehyung vows, and Jimin smiles, weak but strong. "Forever, okay?"

"Promise," Jimin murmurs, extending one pinky. "Forever."

Taehyung interlinks their pinkies, squeezing as tightly as he can. "Forever."

Taehyung's woken up by the sound of gunshots.

He immediately pulls Castor and Pollux off the seat they had been lazily discarded on and grips the handle, only to freeze upon seeing a rotting face through the glass.

Zombies.

And a lot of them, too. 

He catches sight of a figure in the distance - Jimin - and howls, fully aware of how fucking helpless he is.

His best friend is out there, and there's nothing he can do.

The zombie turns away from the van and staggers after Jimin, and Taehyung's shocked to realize the size of the hoard that's following him. Jimin's running off to somewhere, and there's nothing he can do.

Gritting his teeth, Taehyung slides open the window facing away from the hoard, kicking it shut as soon as he's on the roof. Rotting hands reach for his ankles, but he shoots the zombies between the eyes, gaze pinned on the trees. 

Jimin has to come back out.

It's a mantra he repeats to himself, again and again. Jimin will come back out.

Jimin will come back out.

He'll be okay.

Hoseok has his hand over Jungkook's mouth, and Namjoon and Seokjin watch on, stone-faced. Scared, but hiding it well.

Yoongi grips his rifle as tightly as he dares, understanding the unspoken contract he signed when Taehyung climbed onto that roof.

"Protect the others," he whispers, pulling Namjoon into his side. "Yeah. Yeah, I've got you, Tae."

Jimin's not coming back from this.

His feet pound on the grass, backpack a familiar weight on his back. He doesn't shoot at the zombies unless they're too close, instead opting to race for the cliff.

He can do it.

The sun's coming up.

Taehyung watches as the sun catches Jimin's pitch-black hair, his friend having stopped at the edge of the cliff. He holds the gun in his hands, eyes shut, and Taehyung knows what Jimin's going to do before it even happens.

"Jimin!" Taehyung screams, and fuck, there's nothing he can do, he can't do anything. The knowledge of what's about to happen tears his heart into pieces, and he wails, tears blurring his vision as he keeps his gaze pinned on Jimin's distant figure.

Jimin catches his eye and smiles, raising his hands above his head to make a giant heart. There's a small square in his hands.

The first of the zombies stumbles onto the cliff.

Jimin barks a laugh, taking another step back. His lips move without sound, and his eyes bore into Taehyung's, an unspoken promise in them.

"Jimin, please," Taehyung gasps, fully aware the dancer can't hear him. "Jimin, Jimin, please, please don't do this, please..."

This isn't like last time.

If Jimin does this, he's going to die.

"I love you!" Taehyung wails, and he knows Jimin can't hear him, he fucking knows, but he has to say it anyways. "I love you, Jimin!"

Jimin's lips curl into a soft smile, and he mouths four words Taehyung knows well.

"I love you too."

And he steps off the cliff.

There's nothing else.

There's no fanfare. There's no applause, no screams, no tears.

Just Taehyung and his best friend, unheard words hanging between them.

After the last of the zombies tumble over, Taehyung starts up the van, speeding as fast as he can down the road to the valley.

He doesn't even wait for the car to stop before he's tripping over his feet, falling to his knees at Jimin's side.

His body is broken, blood staining the grass under him a deep, deep red. Polaroids litter the ground, strewn about like flowers, and Taehyung can finally see what Jimin was holding.

It's a photo of the seven of them.

And with that, the dam breaks.

"Please!" Taehyung screams, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please, please, not Jimin, please, take me instead, please..."

He grips Jimin's cold, cold hand, tears dripping onto the worn jacket. "No, no, Jimin, please, please, he promised, he promised, forever, he said forever, it's not fair, he promised, Jimin-"

His words cut off into an animalistic wail, and he buries his face in Jimin's shirt, heartbreak etched into each moment. "Jimin!"

"Taehyung," Namjoon murmurs, dropping to his knees to place a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "He's gone."

"I loved him," Taehyung sobs, raising his head just enough for Namjoon to see his bloodshot eyes. "I loved him, I loved him, why..."

"I know," Namjoon soothes, wrapping his arms around Taehyung's waist. "It's okay."

"He was my everything," Taehyung gasps, breathing fast and shallow. "I loved him, hyung, I loved him..."

Namjoon nods, running his fingers through Taehyung's messy hair. "I know, Tae. I know."

"What is it?" Seokjin asks, racing to Taehyung's side. "Where's Jimin-"

Jungkook's legs crumple, and a scream tears its way out of his throat. "No, no, no, hyung," he sobs, crawling closer as if to shake Jimin awake. "Wake up, wake up, please, hyung, you have to wake up..."

Yoongi stares on, tears streaming down his cheeks as he bends down to pick up a polaroid, staring at its bloodstained surface. He pockets it, then picks up another. And another.

Taehyung's lost the ability to form words, instead simply sobbing into Namjoon's chest. The leader rocks him back and forth, murmuring soothing words, though they don't seem to be much help.

Seokjin stares at Jimin's body for a moment before dropping to his knees next to Jungkook, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. The youngest dives into his chest, heartbreaking sobs slipping through his lips as the force of his grief wracks his frame.

Hoseok sits next to Jimin's hand for a moment before closing his eyes, and Jimin almost looks like he could be sleeping, if not for the crimson that blankets the grass.

Yoongi is the one to bury him.

He pulls the shovel out of the trunk and sinks it into the earth, making a hole deep enough for Jimin to fit into. After that, he gently pulls Jimin's body from Taehyung and Jungkook (the former too lost in his grief to put up much of a protest) and gently places it-

places him-

in the grave.

Finally, he pulls the polaroids out of Jimin's bag. 

Most of them fell onto the grass like snowflakes, so he spends the time picking each and every one of them up. He's joined by Hoseok part of the way through, and the dancer's eyes beg for something, anything to do, so he lets him.

They spread the polaroids over Jimin's body, under his head, caught in his hair, spilling from his jacket. All the little things Jimin loved.

Taehyung starts to scream when Yoongi shovels the first bit of dirt over Jimin('s body) and it's only Namjoon's soft words that calm him down. 

Jungkook hasn't stopped crying.

Finally, Yoongi bends down to place a soft kiss on Jimin's cold forehead, and the others do the same. "Goodnight, Jimin-ah," he whispers, fighting to keep his voice from breaking. "Saranghaeyo."

It's the break of dawn when they say goodbye.

Yoongi places Jimin's camera on top of the mound of dirt, the backpack behind it and his gun in front. There's a simple inscription on a rock done in marker, and Yoongi hates that they can't do more.

Hates that this is all they can do.

"Jiminie," Taehyung whispers, and five pairs of eyes snap to him.

Namjoon's supporting almost all of his weight, but there's something in his eyes that's strong.

"You are... you were my best friend, my soulmate. I love you. I love you now and forever, and that's never going to change. I'm never going to forget you. I promise you, Jimin. I'm never going to forget."

He forces a smile, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "I love you, Jiminie. Goodbye."

In the end, Jimin was red.

Taehyung rubs his index finger against his thumb, morbidly interested by the blood (Jimin's blood, not the blood, never the anything with Jimin) flaking off his hands. 

Somehow, he still expects to see Jimin every time he turns his head.

The car feels empty, now, with Seokjin driving and Yoongi in the passenger's seat. The car feels empty, Taehyung's knees pulled to his chest and no sound escaping him. 

Because, well-

it is.

Jungkook's fallen asleep on Hoseok's shoulder, tear-stains so dark they might as well be a permanent scar. Next to them, Namjoon stares blankly out the window, seeming more Namjoon than RM. Not strong. Not a leader.

Just a man in pain.

Taehyung knows, logically, he should be over this. 

"This" being his pain and emotion. His grief.

But every time he raises his head to speak to Jimin, to ask him a question, his heart splinters anew. 

Because Jimin isn't there.

Jimin isn't there, and Jimin's never going to be there. Jimin's never going to be there again, because he's dead, he's buried three feet under in a grave Yoongi dug that can't do anything-

Before he realizes it, fresh tears spill down his cheeks, and he wipes them away. "God," he laughs, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I-I'm such a crybaby, right? S-Such a baby... hah..."

Jimin's smile, Jimin's laugh, Jimin Jimin Jimin permeating every inch of his mind.

"I'm sorry," Taehyung whispers, and he doesn't even know who he's whispering it to, just that he is. "I'm so sorry..."

Oh.

It's for Jimin.

Oh.

Soobin leans against the rail of the ship, a chocolate bar hanging out of his mouth. 

Bangtan is running late.

And with literally any other group of humans, that wouldn't be cause for concern, but Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok have an uncanny knack for getting into trouble, so he's a bit worried.

Just a bit.

All the breath leaves his lungs as Bangtan's beat-up van pulls into the port, and he does a quick head-count before stopping.

One - Seokjin pulling bags out of the trunk.

Two, three - Yoongi supporting Jungkook.

Four - Hoseok hobbling along the gangway.

Five - Namjoon pulling a rolling bag behind him.

Six - Taehyung, looking like his world has fallen apart. 

Seven - there's no Jimin.

"Where's Jimin?" Soobin asks, and Taehyung slowly turns to meet his gaze.

There's blood on his hands.

"Gone," is all the elder says, and Soobin forgets how to breathe as the rest of Bangtan shuffles onto the boat, a dragging sort of grief to their steps that he knows well.

He's seen it in the mirror.

He's seen it in ATEEZ, in all of the members of groups that have lost people (everyone) and in the survivors.

(Every time they win, they have to lose)

"Gone?" Soobin echoes, and Namjoon meets his gaze, normally-bright eyes dull and empty.

"Gone," Namjoon repeats, and oh-

Oh.

Chapter Text

They're going back to Korea today.

Three years after their escape, they're finally going back to Korea.

It's almost surreal, Taehyung thinks. The fact that they're actually going to set foot in their home again.

(He's coping. Somehow)

"What're you thinking about?" Hoseok asks, sidling up next to him and throwing an arm over his shoulders. Taehyung blinks at him before his lips curl into a smile, gaze pinned on the distant shore. "Tae-ah?"

"You know," Taehyung smiles, a soft grin on his lips. "I'm going to see Jiminie again."

They're coping.

(Trying)

Seokjin and Namjoon arguably had it the best. Though they were the ones to pick everyone else back up when they fell, they were allowed to fall as well.

Jungkook bore the unfortunate burden of being Taehyung's emotional crutch, a role he all but perfected. The younger was always there when Taehyung woke up in the middle of the night screaming, knew how to calm Taehyung down before he found a bullet hole between his eyes, and knew how to pull him out of bed when he wanted to do anything but. An angel, that kid.

Hoseok's prosthetic took some getting used to, in truth. It wasn't sunshine and rainbows, and for months after their escape, seeing Hoseok in physical therapy was a regular occurrence.

Yoongi seemed to take Jimin's death as a personal insult to him. The guilt ate him alive for months, years, until Taehyung found him on a roof with a beer bottle on his hand and threw it to the ground, screaming at the elder to "get his fucking shit together, Jimin didn't die for this".

And Taehyung-

well.

Taehyung seemed to undulate between anger and depression, some mornings screaming at the sunrise and others sleeping until sunset. Therapists said it was normal, it was an adjustment, but it didn't hurt any less to watch.

And now, seeing the way Taehyung looks at that distant shore, Hoseok can't help but think he looks alive.

"What do you mean?" Hoseok asks, and Taehyung smiles at him, the potted plant in his hands clutched to his chest.

(Time travel had one horrific effect on Taehyung - he never got closure. He kept thinking that tomorrow, tomorrow, time would rewind and he'd see Jimin again)

"He's going to love these flowers," Taehyung beams, running his finger down the lily's petals. "They're pure and white, just like him!"

Hoseok opts not to comment on that.

Instead, Yoongi walks up to the railing, wrapping an arm around Hoseok's waist and resting his head on the younger's shoulder. "Scale?"

"Three," Hoseok beams, and Yoongi sighs.

"Do you want to sit down?"

"I'm good," Hoseok laughs, and Yoongi quirks a brow. "That's Korea, Yoongi-hyung."

Yoongi seems to notice the distant landmass for the first time, mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. "Wow."

"What's going on out here?"

Namjoon thrives on ships, an observation only emphasized by the notebook he hastily shoves into his backpack. Behind him, Seokjin leads Jungkook to the deck, apparently regaling him with horrifically bad puns.

It's disgustingly domestic.

"That's Korea," Yoongi murmurs, and Namjoon races to the railing, eyes comically wide as he stares at the distant land. "Wow, no need to be so restrained, Joon-ah."

Namjoon casually flips him off, though his gaze doesn't leave the distant speck for a moment. 

"I wish Jimin-hyung was here," Jungkook mumbles.

There's a long moment where nobody moves, everyone's eyes on Taehyung.

"So do I," Taehyung admits, gaze distant. "So do I."

Soft piano flows into Taehyung's ears as he drives, grip tight on the wheel. The others are still at the base, but he has to do this.

The potted plant next to him is strapped in, a bit of soil already spilled onto the seat. Taehyung can only hope and pray that this will be enough.

That he'll be able to let go.

Finally (finally, finally) he pulls up to the grave.

It's overgrown, grass overtaking the soil he painstakingly dug out all those years ago. And yet (and yet) the camera is still there, the rock is still there, "Park Jimin" carved into the stone. 

Taehyung starts to cry.

He doesn't know if it's denial or disbelief or some belief in the cosmic forces of the universe, but he kept expecting Jimin to come back. Kept expecting that Jimin would be okay, like Yoongi and like Hoseok and like him-

He falls to his knees, bowing his head as sobs wrack his frame. 

Nothing moves for a long time.

Finally, Taehyung manages to pull himself together enough to pull out his backpack, gently removing the gardening tools from it. He pulls the lily out of its pot and places it into a small hole next to the headstone, sucking in a ragged gulp of air.

"Taehyung?"

The voice is faint, almost as if on the breeze, and Taehyung gaze snaps around the clearing, only to be met with Jimin's translucent figure, perched on the headstone. 

"Jimin?" Taehyung gasps, and the spectre smiles, reaching up to press a ghostly thumb to Taehyung's cheek.

"Hey, Tae-baby. Why'd you come back here?"

"I brought you lilies," Taehyung helplessly replies, and Jimin laughs.

God, Taehyung missed that laugh.

"You shouldn't have come, Tae-ah."

"Why?" Taehyung asks, and Jimin shakes his head.

"I'm not real, Taehyung."

"But... you're here, aren't you?"

Jimin shakes his head again, and in a flash, he's wearing the parka he was the day Taehyung died the first time. "I'm not real."

"But..."

"You have to let go, Taehyung-ah."

"Jimin," Taehyung sobs, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. "I don't... I don't want to leave you behind..."

Jimin smiles, soft and wistful. "You won't be leaving me behind, Tae-Tae. I'll always be right here."

He presses a spectral finger to Taehyung's chest, indicating his heart. "Namjoonie-hyung, Jin-hyung, and Jungkook-ah are there, too."

"Is Jungkook there?" Taehyung all but begs, and Jimin nods. "Can I see him?"

"Sorry, Tae," Jimin sighs, and Taehyung feels a faint warmth on his cheeks. "He did give me a message for you, though. He says he's sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Not being better?" Jimin helplessly replies. "Who knows with Kook-ah."

Taehyung laughs, lips curling into a grin. "I missed you, Chim."

Jimin smiles, soft and wistful. "You have to go, Taehyungie."

"But... I just got here?" Taehyung asks, a hint of nerves creeping into his voice. "I don't..."

"Tae," Jimin sighs. "Please."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Taehyung continues, and Jimin's gaze flits to the sky for a moment.

"...yeah. Two things."

Jimin places a hand on Taehyung's phone, before lifting his head to lock eyes with the blue-haired man. "And tell my parents I love them."

It's a concert.

The set-list has been kept secret for a reason, one that Taehyung's honestly excited to think about. After all...

He shakes it off, keeping his gaze pinned on his feet as the stage rises. Hopefully, the crowd likes this.

After a moment, the lights flicker on, and the familiar vocals of Serendipity fill the stage.

It's a duet.

Taehyung's part of the choreography is relatively simple, as far as these things go. It's not Jimin's dancing, but then, nothing ever will be.

Once he hits the last note, he swears for a moment that lips brush against his head, a soft whisper floating through the air.

"Thank you, Taehyung-ah."

Taehyung smiles, a tear arcing down his cheek. "You're welcome, Chim."