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Chapter Text

—

‘You’ve made it when they have enough faith to send you outside the Wall.’

That was what Taehyung’s instructor had told him all those years ago, wasn’t it? And he’d heard variations of the sentiment said by others - his fellow sentinels-in-training, the guides that whispered to them through bars from the other side of the massive education facility, the horde of instructors and professors and healers and administrative staff. Being sent beyond the Wall meant that the Government trusted you. It meant that your powers were destined for more than just peacekeeping, or protecting mid-level officials within the border of town. 

Only the best got sent beyond the Wall. 

Taehyung did not feel like the best though, not right now. The wind was savage, kicking up clouds of dust and brush into the air as the unforgiving summer sun looked down with amusement. Within the Wall, they never felt wind like this, because the walls were practically impenetrable, and the heat was sometimes unavoidable but at least one could take shelter inside. 

Being sent outside the Wall felt more like a punishment at this point. 

“Doing okay?” Seokjin asked - for the eighth time, if Taehyung was keeping count correctly. When Taehyung just rolled his eyes in response, Seokjin shrugged unapologetically. “I have to keep asking, you know that.”

“What, you can’t feel it?” Taehyung grumbled, as the wind pushed him back another foot. 

“I can feel your annoyance,” Seokjin replied, long legs dangling outside the car door. When they had turned the corner and first seen the wide expanse of land (and the way the wind created mini twisters of dirt and debris), Taehyung had been chivalrous enough to tell Seokjin to stay inside the car. Now he was regretting it, because Taehyung was sweaty and dirty and frustrated, and Seokjin was in the shade with barely a speck of dirt on him. 

Sentinels were supposed to take care of Guides, but Seokjin sometimes made that difficult to do. He was stubborn, sarcastic, smug, and had never matched with a Sentinel in his ten-year career within the Academy. 

It was different for Guides though. Seokjin could go his entire life never matching with someone. He could be stubborn, sarcastic and smug without any consequence. Taehyung had higher stakes, and everyone knew it. 

“I’m annoyed because it’s hot out,” Taehyung said. “And my mouth tastes like dirt.”

“So keep your mouth closed.” Taehyung opened his mouth to retort, but Seokjin held up his hand with a smirk. “Ah ah ah! No talking, Sentinel.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Taehyung sighed. “God help whatever poor soul you end up matching with.” 

“I’ve been dodging mating for seven years,” Seokjin shrugged. “If it hasn’t happened by now…” 

He trailed off, letting Taehyung finish the thought. “It might never happen.” 

Whereas Seokjin said it with hesitant triumph, Taehyung said it with bitterness. Seokjin could go his entire life without a partner, but Taehyung was a ticking time bomb without one. Any day now, he could lose himself in a zone - become nothing more than a vegetable, kept alive for the contracted one-hundred days by machines until some faceless doctor flipped a switch. 

The facility had placed him in a room with Guide after Guide, but there was no profound match yet. Seokjin could help if got too close to the edge, but it would take just one shaky step to send him hurtling into the darkness, and only his true Guide could help him escape. Could actually cushion his fall. 

“Think the wind is dying down enough for you to do whatever it is you need to do?” Seokjin asked, changing the topic conspicuously. “I’m dying to get back home and do a face mask.” He peered at the dirt covering Taehyung’s mouth and neck, the rest of his face covered by protective gear. “You should do one too, come to my room after you check in.” 

Taehyung nodded, feeling a bit of heat in his stomach. Sometimes Seokjin invited him over, and they would do face masks and fall asleep - but sometimes, they would fuck and then do face masks (and Taehyung would creep back into his room because it felt too intimate to sleep with him after sex - like his Guide, his true Guide, would somehow know and feel betrayed). 

Seokjin sent him an amused look. “I can’t feel your emotions entirely, but your face gives away what you’re thinking.” He pointed towards the desert. “Do your job, Sentinel, and we’ll see how the evening goes.” 

The arousal disappeared from Taehyung’s gut as quickly as it came, and he pouted. “Fine,” he grumbled, pulling his bandana back over his mouth. “Let’s get this over with.” 

His boots were already caked with dirt, specs so fine that if he focused hard enough, he could see every differentiation of brown. He wouldn’t, of course, that would be stupid, but if he tried… 

Taehyung shook his head of the thoughts and returned to the task at hand, kneeling down and pressing his gloved hands to the earth. His job was to find disruptions in the sand, because the rebels were burying supplies (or worse, if the rumor about buried bombs was to be believed). The rebels were trying to help city prisoners escape, and the Government needed to cut off their helping arms. 

“Anything?” Seokjin drawled behind him. Taehyung rolled his eyes and didn’t respond. Instead, he cast his gaze out across the flattened dirt, trying to find irregularities in the bumps and make out where the sand and mud seemed changed. His sight was his superior sense, the reason he was sent beyond the Wall in the first place. The Government kept him on, kept paying his salary despite not having a Guide, because his skills were leagues ahead of his peers. His scent was fine, his hearing average (for a Sentinel), but his sight was his superpower. Taehyung could spot clouds in the sky before they even came into view, could see the first buds blooming at springtime, could find upturned dirt when no one else could. 

He saw some now, and stood up to brush off the dirt from his knees. “Hyung, where’s the map…” 

He trailed off, his hand outstretched for the paper map they’d been given by Control, because he had seen something in the distance. It was coming fast, maybe a few miles away and closing quickly, and Taehyung could hear it now too. The wheels spinning on the ground, the dirt upturned in its wake, the whispers of the people inside. 

“Hyung, can you -”

“I can see it, Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin gasped. He sounded nervous, and Taehyung remembered that this was only their third time beyond the Wall. All the horrors they’d grown up knowing, were they about to face them? “Get in the car, Taehyung, now .” 

“They don’t see us yet,” Taehyung replied, rooted to the spot as the car drew closer. “Maybe they’ve come to pick up supplies, we can see -”

“Get in the car!” Seokjin sounded truly scared now. “They could have weapons, Tae, please do not make me die out here in this fucking wasteland.” 

The car stopped less than a mile away, the engine stuttering off and echoing in Taehyung’s mind like drums. Car doors opened and slammed, and then voices carried through the dry wasteland. “We’re covering them up too well, hyung,” a voice grumbled. Taehyung’s hearing had honed in on the rebels, counting three separate breathing patterns. “And this map sucks, I can’t figure out which way is north anymore…” 

The first voice was light and musical, traipsing after someone as they rounded the car. From his position, Taehyung could make out the tattoos running up and down the boy’s arm, the map held aloft by dirt-covered fingers. The other one followed, this one taller with his hair cropped short, broad arms crossed over a broad chest. 

“You’re holding it upside down, baby,” he murmured, and 'baby'  blushed and flipped the paper quickly. “We need to check if we need to replenish, but we’re down to our last few bottles of clean water. A heat wave is coming, so we need to be smart about supplies.” 

“Think Jimin-ssi was able to escape?” 

Taehyung heard Seokjin gasp behind him, and Taehyung quickly held out his hand to motion for his hyung to keep quiet, even as his own heart pounded wildly. 

“He knows where to hide,” the taller man sighed, rubbing his short hair anxiously. “We just need to hope he made it past the extra guards, we weren’t prepared for that. He has to lie low for a week before we can send him coordinates for the safe house, in case -”

“He’ll be fine,” the tattooed one said firmly, pierced bottom lip bitten anxiously until the taller man leaned over to pull it to safety. “He’s going to be fine, hyung.” 

“And we’ll see him soon.” There was a moment, poignant and heavy as they gazed at each other, and then the moment broke when a third body shifted into view. 

It was in this moment that Taehyung’s world stopped. 

He had always dreamt about when he’d find his Guide. He’d been dreaming about it since he was nineteen years old, his senses haywire as he sat in the padded room awaiting instruction. He was a Sentinel, and every Sentinel needed a Guide. Taehyung envisioned leaving that padded room and seeing someone (a man, usually, someone with beautiful hair and warm eyes and an easy smile) waiting for him, hand outstretched. They’d connect instantly, a bond that would inspire songs and movies, and their powers would be the most envied in the entire city. 

Years went by, and Taehyung’s dreams got more desperate. He didn’t care about their hair or eyes or smile, he didn’t care about power , he just wanted that magical connection. Someone who would be his . 

His person stood less than a mile from him now. His Guide stood within reach, if only Taehyung could move fast enough. 

“Hyung, did you - what’s wrong?” 

The tattooed one had spoken, but the third man was staring across the desert in horror. The tattooed man followed his line of sight to see Taehyung crossing the desert. His Sentinel badge gleamed in the sunlight. “Oh shit.” 

Chapter Text

After spending his last decade running from Sentinels, Yoongi would admit he had become a bit negligent about it. So sue him (but if he could clone himself, goddammit he would do more than sue, because Yoongi had fucked up in the worst way possible). 

“Drive,” Yoongi spat, hands shaking as the floodgates of emotions poured through his veins - not his emotions completely anymore. Now, instead of only fear, he felt excitement, a giddiness that filled his lungs until he thought they would burst, possessiveness. Jungkook slid into the front seat and threw the car into motion, his door still swung open and bouncing in protest as they flew over gravel. 

“He’s -” Namjoon asked, but as he spun around to look at Yoongi, he saw the answer written plain as day. Yes , Yoongi would explain calmly if he could only get his feelings under control, that is what a newly bonded Sentinel looks like.

He didn’t dare look out the back window and see if they were being followed. The Sentinel had been steps away from his car, would’ve maybe had to spend at least thirty seconds getting back inside and turning it on. Those government cars were fast, but Jungkook was the best driver in all of Death Valley. They could lose him. 

They had to. 

—

Min Yoongi reported to the Academy when he was fourteen. His parents dropped him off at the front door, too nervous to come inside. It didn’t matter - the paperwork had been signed electronically, his life given away to strangers in uniform in a matter of minutes while he sat crying on the floor, his head aching from the floodgates of emotions that had infiltrated hours before. ‘Sensitive,’ everyone had always said about him, a child that cried too easily, a friend that felt too much. Well, at least now they knew why. 

The Academy was cold, both physically and emotionally. His dorm room felt like a cell, uniforms in shades of gray hanging from the closet, his bedsheets black and threadbare. Yoongi wondered if the Academy purposefully tried to make it as boring and depressing as possible, in some grand attempt to minimize emotions and keep their Guides sane. 

It didn’t work. He felt despair build like blocks inside his chest, and not all feelings were his own. 

Fourteen was not the youngest age present, but Yoongi was definitely on the younger side as he entered the dining hall, small and shaky in his prison-gray clothing set. Some people turned to look openly as he entered, but most kept to their meals, conversing in artificially-lilted voices whenever Professors walked by. 

The Guides stayed on this side of the Academy, while the Sentinels were located on the opposite end. Yoongi wondered if they were subjected to gray walls and gray clothes and gray food (the kimchi looked questionable, the tofu sad, the rice crunchy), or if they enjoyed vibrancy and joy as the superior sect. 

Yoongi saw very few Sentinels that first year. He scolds himself now for his interest in them, the whispered questions he’d share with other young Guides, craning their necks through breaks in the wall to catch a glimpse of the famous Sentinels-in-training. In hindsight, he should’ve ignored them completely, done everything in his power to come across as the worst-possible Guide ever born. Yoongi should’ve locked himself in his room, claiming insanity ( like Jimin, smart fucker ). 

Hindsight’s a bitch. 

When he was fifteen, Yoongi met his first Sentinel. His Professor ( his least favorite, Professor Lee #2, because he was younger than Professor Lee #1, and no one could find out their first names ) had recommended him to the Sentinel trainers, claiming he was ready to bond. 

Fifteen . Who settles down with their life partner at fifteen? Yoongi was just starting to shave, had begged the infirmary for cream when he got two zits between his eyebrows, couldn’t even lift a forty-pound barbell without feeling dizzy. He felt too young, but his Professor assured him - and the agents responsible for pairing Sentinels with Guides - that Yoongi was ready. He had gotten through his required training with ease. His Guide skills surpassed those students who were older, more mature. 

His scores were enviable, his ability deployable. He’d make a powerful Guide, Professor Lee #2 said, bony hands covering the span of Yoongi’s small shoulders as he displayed him to the agents. He felt a bit like a prize horse - no , that wasn’t right. He felt more like a pig for slaughter, trapped in front of eager diners salivating at the idea of chopping him into bite-sized portions. 

When he was fifteen, Yoongi met his first Sentinel. And then he met his second. And third. And fourth through thirtieth as the Academy frustratingly tried to bond him with their strongest trainees. Yoongi quickly got over the disappointment, that nagging feeling of failure , when the first few didn’t succeed. He stood in front of leering Sentinels, boys and girls alike, and waited for something magical to happen. 

And sure, he could feel their emotions, could hone in their dialed senses and help regulate. It felt nice even ( sometimes ). It came easy to him, and as sessions grew longer and Sentinels grew more frustrated, Yoongi became more conceited. He smirked when they brought him in front of new Sentinels, as if daring them to try . None of them could succeed. Maybe Yoongi was too strong for these weak-minded Government sheep. Maybe he had been born without a Sentinel partner in mind, and he could hoard his powers to himself while the Government gazed longingly at his test scores, a weapon they couldn’t utilize. 

He felt too confident at seventeen. Two years and countless failed pairings? His contract didn’t end until he was twenty-one, but if he could hold out for a few more years, he would be free . 

And then he was placed in a dark room with Kang Jihoon and told this was his partner, and if a bonding did not occur naturally within thirty days, one would be forced. 

Kang Jihoon was thirty-two years old. Yoongi felt the size difference more profoundly than the age one, even though he could see the fine lines around Jihoon’s face and the peppered white along his hairline. Jihoon was well over six feet, at least two heads taller than Yoongi, and so broad he resembled a whale. His biceps looked like they could squeeze Yoongi’s head right off his neck if Jihoon put in a miniscule amount of effort. 

“Aren’t bonds instant?” he squeaked as Professor Lee #2 exited the room. “What is thirty days going to do? How do bonds get forced? Why -”

“Let’s sit,” Jihoon had said, and his voice sounded like gravel. Yoongi could feel blunted emotions coming from the man, but there was one that terrified him the most - desire . An interest that wiggled into Yoongi involuntarily, a thirty-two year old man looking at a seventeen year old with zits still on his face (less pronounced, the cream really helped) and fear in his heart. 

Not just looking. Wanting. 

Yoongi learned about Kang Jihoon over the next few weeks. He was a strong Sentinel, level five, an asset for the Government because he was strong and passionate and loyal and obedient. But he had never bonded, and he was zoning out with more frequency these days. Yoongi was a strong Guide, level five, an asset for the Government but lacking strength and passion and loyalty and obedience. Perhaps they could make a good pair. Perhaps Yoongi could be controlled physically, and Jihoon could use his powers efficiently. 

By day twenty-eight, Yoongi was desperate to escape. 

Day twenty-eight was the last time Yoongi had seen an Academy Sentinel. 

Until now . 

—

“Where do we go?” Yoongi shouted, trying to avoid wincing each time the car bounced over uneven ground and his hips hit the side of the door. “What’s the plan?” 

“We need to get away from this fucking soft dirt,” Jungkook grunted, twisting the wheel to swerve past a rock. “We’ll leave tracks, we need to find somewhere -” 

“There are some old roads if we head south,” Namjoon said, the map held mere inches from his nose as he tried to keep it steady. “We can maybe lose him in the mountains -”

Jungkook swerved again, this time pulling the car in the direction Namjoon had mentioned. “And then?” Yoongi asked nervously. His hands were sweaty as he grasped his seatbelt. “What happens in the mountains? Do we have a safe house? Do we have food, water?” 

“He’s behind us,” Jungkook muttered. “We have to lose him fast, hyung.” Namjoon’s finger just pointed to the left, and the car swerved again. “We’ll get out of here, Yoongi-hyung. Hold onto that hope.” 

Yoongi wished he could, but all he felt in his chest was a phantom feeling of someone else’s hope - a Sentinel hoping to finally end the chase and be with his Guide. 

Chapter Text

There was a moment where Taehyung just stood there, enjoying the sensation of finally seeing, feeling , his bonded mate. Even with all the space between them, there was no denying that the connection would be strong. He hadn’t expected such a feeling of peace , but there it was, swimming with joy and greediness and desire. His bonded mate was here, in this country, driving away -

Taehyung glanced up. Ah, perhaps he should follow. 

“What the hell is going on?” Seokjin screeched behind him. The situation had appeared dire enough for the man to leave the car, and already dirt had attached itself to the hem of his pants, a gradient of brown against black. “Who are - why do you -”

Taehyung grinned, throwing an arm around Seokjin. “My guide is in that car, hyung. My guide. ” He clapped Seokjin on the shoulder and then turned towards the car. “Get in, we need to follow them.”

“Are you crazy ?” Seokjin gasped, clinging to the back of Taehyung’s jacket. “We can’t go out into the desert, we have to go back to the Academy!” He groaned as Taehyung ignored him, the front door swinging open as the Sentinel slid into the front seat and twisted the key. “Taehyung-ah, I know you just found your Guide and you’re probably feeling a little reckless , but we can’t go running off to who-knows-where , we have no supplies, the Academy is expecting us -”

“Are you getting in or walking home, hyung?” Taehyung shouted. “We’re only two miles from the gate, you can make it back in no time.” 

“You expect me to walk ?” There was a huff, and then the passenger door opened. “You will drop me off , Taehyung-ah.” 

“There’s no time, hyung,” Taehyung smiled, watching the other car in the distance. He honed in on it, senses in harmony for a change, and his smile grew even wider. “This is the best feeling in the world. He looked so angry , hyung, but once he gets to know me, he’ll like me.” 

“You know nothing about rogue Guides,” Seokjin muttered. “Drop me off.” 

“Can’t. You coming along?” 

Seokjin sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple. Taehyung drummed his hand over the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the car speeding away in the distance. “You will not let me die. You will not let me starve. If at any point I am in danger, you will save me first.” He grasped Taehyung’s jaw and turned his face. “And if we get in trouble for this, you are taking the fall.” Seokjin forced Taehyung’s head into an exaggerated nod. “Got it, Sentinel?”

“Got it, Guide-hyung,” Taehyung grinned, and then he threw the car into drive as Seokjin squealed ( ‘Yah, my seatbelt isn’t even on! I will HAUNT you if I die, Taehyung-ah!’) . 

—

Taehyung was nineteen when he entered the Academy. 

Everyone had written him off as normal - his parents, his classmates, his first girlfriend. People present in their teens, they’d said when he voiced his surety that his time was coming. And Taehyung did present in his teens - the very last week of it, in fact. 

Christmas was a strange holiday, now that the Government was rationing meat and miscellaneous goods. Taehyung’s family wasn’t wealthy. His father worked in accounting, but at the lower rungs, so far down the totem pole he wasn’t required to sign the official non-disclosure forms management had to sign. His mother was a children’s school teacher, and would come home with paint on her face and a weary smile. 

This Christmas though, he was spending it at his girlfriend’s house, and they were wealthy. 

Kim Mina was beautiful. She always wore a smile, even as her accessories and outfits changed with fashion seasons, and she fit right in Taehyung’s arms. They would cuddle on the bus home from school, sharing candies and secrets, and Taehyung would walk her to her front door each evening. Her parents would smile at him, but their smiles seemed forced (not like Mina’s, who always was genuine and happy). They would make snide comments about his parent’s financial situation, and Mina would admonish them for the obvious ones she caught. 

She invited him for Christmas, and his parents accepted on his behalf immediately. Taehyung was as beautiful as Mina, with his wide eyes and boxy smile and slanted cheekbones. They would make a beautiful family, and their children would be beautiful too. 

Taehyung didn’t love Mina, not like that. He loved her smile the most, and loved her optimism and her gentleness, but there was a hole where romantic love should be, a puzzle with pieces missing. It felt larger than just missing attraction - it felt like he already belonged to someone else, and this relationship could never hold a candle to this long-lost person. 

Their Christmas dinner was grand, because Mina’s father worked for the Agency and that paid well (almost as well as Sentinel pay, which was only a few tiers down from the top government positions). Taehyung had never seen so much beef or pork, had never tasted something that exploded on his tongue with so much flavor. And the colors of it all, and the smells - Taehyung felt almost overwhelmed as his senses went haywire. 

But then pain followed, and Taehyung had barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up, his heart racing as his Sentinel powers finally manifested. He would laugh later, how rich people’s beef had finally made him come online, but in that moment he just felt terror. He didn’t understand what was happening until Mina’s father announced it to the table.

It was bittersweet - Taehyung was now worthy of their daughter, but Taehyung would now be promised to someone else. 

He went home with containers of leftovers and bowed to his parents, apologized for taking so long to present as a Sentinel, and promised to take care of them better. They spent the night eating leftovers and sharing memories, and the next morning, Mina’s father personally escorted him to the Academy doors. 

And Taehyung spent the next six years patiently waiting for his Guide, his missing puzzle piece. 

—

“What will you do when you find him?” Seokjin asked quietly, one hand on his seatbelt and one hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, a reassurance more than a necessity. Taehyung has never felt so grounded with his senses, has no fear of zoning out when his Guide is almost within reach. Maybe he’ll never zone out again, once he has his Guide fitting perfectly in his arms. 

The man had been shorter than his companions, petite with dark tangled hair and pale skin. Taehyung had judged their size immediately, and his Guide was likely shorter than him by a couple precious inches. It made his protective instincts even stronger, the urge to coddle and hold and feed and protect filling his chest like sand crystals in an hourglass, counting down the moments until Taehyung could grasp his Guide. 

“Hmm?” Taehyung murmured, eyes on the car in front of them. They were getting closer.

“You heard me,” Seokjin said, hand tightening on Taehyung’s shoulder. “He’s a rebel, Taehyung-ah. The Academy will want to punish him for desertion. They’ll want information too, what will you do if they…” 

The word torture went unsaid, but Taehyung heard it echo through the car. 

“I will protect him, hyung.” Seokjin made a noise that sounded like a scoff. “You think I can’t? They’ve been trying to find my Guide for years , I’m an asset. They won’t hurt him, they need him.” 

“I guess we’ll see,” Seokjin whispered, but he didn’t sound confident. Taehyung didn’t mind - Guides saw the world differently, and Seokjin of course would be concerned about the Government’s involvement, but Taehyung had near-perfect test scores, had been high on the Academy’s priority list in matching his Guide so that he could be utilized by the military. They wouldn’t deny him his Guide, and Taehyung would protect him. 

They were closing in, the rebel van no match for the government vehicle. Taehyung almost wished that the chase had been harder. 

Chapter Text

“They’re getting closer, Jungkook,” Yoongi whimpered, staring through the dirt-stained back window. “Go faster!”

“We’re almost there,” Jungkook muttered, his earrings dangling as his gaze swerved between his side windows. “We’ll lose them in a bit, they don’t know these roads like I do.” 

Yoongi knew this was true, Jungkook had grown up in the desert. He had started driving when he was a child in his rebel father’s lap, and had scouted this entire country multiple times. But his Sentinel held too much hope, and Yoongi could feel it. He wanted to squash that hope, wanted to turn around and see the shiny black car slam on its brakes when they reached the destroyed roads Jungkook knew like the back of his hand. 

“Hold on!” Jungkook shouted, and Yoongi squeezed his eyes. He hated these roads, but now they were his salvation. 

—

Yoongi knew that people tried to run. 

Seoul had changed, even in the two short decades Yoongi had been alive. His parents had grown up with different rules, and his grandparents whispered about the golden days of their youth with a wistfulness he couldn’t understand at the time. Sentinels and Guides weren’t a limb of the government in their day. Seoul wasn’t so guarded, and Death Valley was not filled with enemies yet. 

But sometime in the last fifty years, the Government had successfully secured their position. Sentinels were now placed immediately under their supervision alongside Guides, and trained to be the strength of the government. Choice was removed, completely erased from history. If you were born as either designation, your life was no longer your own. 

Not that anyone else’s life was better, of course. Being normal was just as cursed, but it was a curse of being forgotten rather than being watched. Kim Namjoon was someone they forgot. 

Yoongi met him when he was nineteen, two months before he was promised to the behemoth that was Kang Jihoon. Namjoon was a record-keeper apprentice in the library, a small section of the Academy that most avoided. There was no truth within the walls, the books filled with propaganda only, but Namjoon was no average record-keeper anyways. Yoongi escaped to the library for peace and quiet, and instead found a brewing revolutionist.

“Help me get away,” Yoongi whispered after his meeting with Kang Jihoon, his fingers trembling as he turned the page and tried to appear normal. Namjoon was sitting across from him with a list of banned words, checking off books as cleared , deemed safe. “I know you’ve been helping others.”

“Never a Guide ,” Namjoon hissed back nervously. “Yoongi-hyung, I’m not sure -”

“Help me sneak out,” Yoongi pressed. “They’re going to force a match with Kang Jihoon, I can’t be with him, he’s terrifying, he’s cruel, he’s -”

“I know,” Namjoon sighed, brows furrowed as he gazed down at the table. “They’re desperate to match him, he’s… I’m no Guide, but even I can tell his aura is all wrong.” He checked off another book absentmindedly, his eyes flickering to the camera in the corner. “There’s someone who can help, let me send them a message tonight. We’ll have to be careful, I need some time to determine the best way out of here.”

“I have two weeks,” Yoongi said, desperation seeping into his voice, cracking the vowels. “Namjoon, please .” 

Namjoon had nodded and shooed him away, and ten days later, a note appeared beneath Yoongi’s door. ‘ Tonight. Bring only what you absolutely need.’

He needed nothing. Yoongi left behind sparse letters from his family, all his gray clothing, the precious face creams from the infirmary, anything Kang Jihoon had touched. He took only a small locket, given to him by his friend Jimin - Namjoon knew of Jimin, had promised Yoongi he’d help the younger boy escape too, and Yoongi just had to trust that Namjoon would keep his word. 

If they didn’t die that night, of course.

Yoongi barely remembers the escape. It was a blur - a dark hood pulled tightly over his head, his Guide uniform thrown out and replaced with working-class janitorial clothes, a small gun against his hip with the promise of ‘ only use if necessary’ hanging over it, and a tunnel that was more ground than metal. Namjoon led him halfway, and then apologetically left him to finish the route alone, heart pounding so loud he was sure someone would discover him. 

No one did, and he came out on the other side of the wall an hour later, climbing up with dirt in his eyes and mouth to see a younger boy standing against the rising sun, tattooed hand held out to pull him out of the tunnel.

“Jungkook-ssi?” Yoongi coughed, his mouth dry and his hope almost too overwhelming.

The boy smiled, his two front teeth resting on his bottom lip. “Welcome to death valley, Yoongi-ssi! Can I call you hyung?” 

—

They had made it. The roads were abandoned long ago, highways that had once served a purpose but now succumbed to rotted metal and wild weeds. Jungkook knew these roads better than anyone, spun the wheel to avoid rotting branches, rolled over bumps and spun away from others. His car could handle these roads. Yoongi prayed that the sleek Sentinel car could not. 

Namjoon’s fingers dug into Jungkook’s thigh, always nervous when narrow escapes were required, and Yoongi wished for a moment that he had a partner in all of this. If he had someone to hold, maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone in the backseat, still somehow a prisoner to a system he hadn’t signed up for. But his partner, the one this blasted universe had chosen for him, would not ever lay eyes on him again. Not if Yoongi had any say in the matter. 

“Are we losing him?” Namjoon whispered, and Yoongi spun around to look. The Sentinel car had come to a stop, their wheel stuck in a ditch less than a mile back. Yoongi watched the driver’s door open, watched a tall, dark figure in a Sentinel uniform step out, his hands hanging lazily over the window as he watched Jungkook’s car disappear in the distance. 

“We lost him,” Yoongi whispered back. He thought he would feel relief, but he only felt a hole in his chest, where all his emotion should be. His heart seemed to be left behind a mile back, left behind for a stranger to hold tightly as prisoner.

Chapter Text

Taehyung committed his Guide’s face to memory. As the rebel car disappeared behind abandoned trucks and wild brush, Taehyung closed his eyes and took stock of the unfamiliar features - long, untamed black locks; strong brows over dark, resentful eyes; button nose between soft cheeks; cherub-pink lips. Taehyung wondered if he’d grown up in Seoul, or if his Guide had been rogue his entire life. He wondered if he had passed the boy on the street a decade ago, not knowing that their lives would be so imperfectly intertwined. 

“We should get backup,” Seokjin said, clambering out of the car as Taehyung leaned back on the hood. “We need to push the car out of this ditch and go back.” 

“And then what?” Taehyung murmured, thumb pressing over the thick cotton of his jacket as he stared into the distance. This grounded him, because for all his might, he could not see the car anymore. His Sentinel powers were no use now, unless - 

“What the hell are you doing?” Seokjin exclaimed as Taehyung knelt to the ground, pressing his ear to the dirty cement. “Taehyung-ah, get up this instant!”

“They turned right, I think,” Taehyung said, feeling the vibrations through the ground, faint as they were. “Where’s that map, hyung? Where would right take them?”

“Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin started, but the Sentinel was already on his feet and racing back to the car, pulling the map from the passenger seat. “We need to get help, you and I cannot find them by ourselves.”

“We can, and we will,” Taehyung said firmly, eyes scanning the map and the distorted lines that indicated the roads of the past. “If we pull back now, we’ll lose any leads we have. They’ve turned right, I think, but who knows where they’ll go next if we wait.” He turned pleadingly at Seokjin. “Hyung, this is my Guide , I can’t leave him!” 

Seokjin stared at him, and Taehyung wondered what battle was playing out behind those beautiful eyes. Whichever won, Taehyung knew he would not be going back to Seoul until he had his Guide safely in his grasp. But it would be much easier if Seokjin went with him willingly. 

—

Taehyung’s first week as a Sentinel was amazing. He wrote home about the delicious food, about his new friends, about the Professors who clapped him on his back and applauded him for presenting, even if it was more delayed than usual. His skills were shaky at first, his mind whirling as they tried to separate his new enhanced senses so that he could find focus on one. Classes were grueling but rewarding, his senses coming to him naturally as he progressed. 

He was called an asset . He would qualify for a Guide in less than a year, despite most Sentinels needing at least two years to understand their powers and their purpose. Taehyung would be on the front lines once his Guide was matched, and his salary as a military power-house would catapult his parents to high society. Taehyung had never felt so excited about the future. 

“When will you qualify for your Guide?” Taehyung asked his classmate Jaesung one night. Their fingers ached from the cold, but there were only a few nights left before winter arrived in full force, and the gardens separating them from the Guides would be closed. They couldn’t see those on the other side, but in the open air, Taehyung almost imagined he could feel them. 

“Hopefully next month,” Jaesung sighed. “I’ve got to pass my exams first, but I’m feeling good about it.” 

“What do you think they’ll be like?”

“The exams? I don’t know, tough -”

“ No, your Guide ,” Taehyung interrupted, pressing his cold fingers beneath his thighs to keep them warm. “Do you ever picture them? How they’ll talk, how they’ll act?” What it would feel like to hold their hand, keep them warm? Press closer to feel that connection through every bit of skin, feel like they live not only by your side, but within your heart? “I can’t wait to learn about them, have a conversation, find out what they like!”

Jaesung scoffed. “They’re not supposed to like anything special, Guides aren’t here to have conversations with.” He jerked his head towards the wall, where the Guides likely wandered through the flowers during their precious last evenings outdoors. “Guides are like gasoline.” At Taehyung’s confused glance, he continued. “Gasoline powers our cars, but the car itself, now that’s the machine, that’s the thing people admire and spend millions on, that’s the thing with the power. Sure, without gas, the car won’t get anywhere, but gas is… just gas. Nothing special about it, nothing to admire.” 

Taehyung stared at him. “But I thought everyone wanted to find their Guide,” he began. Jaesung nodded eagerly.

“Sure, but that’s so that we can become more powerful! Gasoline that’s made especially for us, you know?” He took Taehyung’s silence for acceptance. “I know you haven’t been here for long, but you’ll understand soon enough. Guides aren’t worth pining over. If anything, they need to be pining for us . Without Sentinels, they’re nothing.” And with that, he stood up, shaking off the dirt from his pants. “Let’s go inside, it’s freezing.”

“I’ll meet you back in there,” Taehyung said, waving him off. Silence returned as he stared, wishing his senses could somehow see through the wall. Jaesung was wrong, Guides weren’t merely tools for Sentinels. Somewhere on the other side of the wall, Taehyung’s perfect match sat waiting for him, the other half of his soul, his missing piece. 

Over the next few years, Taehyung would hear Jaesung’s sentiment repeated from others, including Professors, even including Guides who were brought to his room to attempt a bond. But Taehyung knew they were wrong. His Guide was out there waiting for him, and Taehyung couldn’t wait to treat them like the prize they were. 

—

“Hyung?” Taehyung asked when Seokjin did not answer. The Guide was staring into the distance still, emotions fluttering across his face that Taehyung could not read. Finally, Seokjin sighed and shrugged his wide shoulders. 

“We’re going to get in serious trouble,” he said, but Taehyung grinned. It wasn’t a no . 

“I’ll take the fall,” he promised, his eyes darting back to the map. He focused on the road lines, watched one in particular trail up into the mountains where the map noted an old community had lived (now abandoned, surely, but… perhaps not). Taehyung glanced up towards the road, trying to zoom in over the abandoned vehicles. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“You need to be careful,” Seokjin said seriously, and Taehyung felt the soothing tug of a Guide trying to calm his senses. “You’ve been zoning more, haven’t you?” 

Taehyung didn’t respond, couldn’t lie to the hyung that knew him so well. Seokjin sighed. “No matter what happens, you’ll tell me if you think you’re close to zoning out. I’m not letting you become a zombie on my watch.” 

“This is the perfect location for it though,” Taehyung said cheekily, as they stood on an abandoned road, covered in desert dust. Seokjin grinned and flicked his cheek. “Alright, let’s get the car out of this ditch.”

Chapter Text

The house had been abandoned a long time ago. Vines snaked up the side to claim the rotting wood as its own, and Yoongi didn’t need Sentinel powers to hear how the wood creaked in the wind. Jungkook cut the engine and jumped out of the car, adrenaline leaving him jittery and talkative. 

“There’s a key somewhere,” he said, teeth holding his bottom lip captive again until Namjoon reached over with a sigh to pull it to safety. “Around the back, I’ll go check!” He disappeared in the brush, and Yoongi was left with an anxious Namjoon. His dongsaeng was overflowing with concern, and for the millionth time, Yoongi wished he lacked empathy. 

“I’m fine, Namjoon-ah,” he sighed, feeling his stomach twist as the adrenaline turned to panic. He wanted to throw up, would give into the sensation if he knew Namjoon wouldn’t worry even more because of it. Between Jungkook and Namjoon and the nameless Sentinel, Yoongi had enough of everyone’s emotions, but it was inescapable. No matter what he did, no matter how indifferent and detached he tried to be, he couldn’t run away from empathy. 

“Hyung, are you sure?” Namjoon’s hand hovered over his shoulder, and Yoongi dreaded the second their skin touched because he was sure he’d start crying from the stress. But then - crash!  

“I’m alright!” Jungkook shouted from the back of the house, and Yoongi watched two birds fly away as the disruption echoed. Take me with you , he pleaded, but the birds ignored him. 

—

Jungkook was young, and Yoongi found himself staring too often at the baby fat in his cheeks and the curve of his nose. “How old are you?” he finally asked. Jungkook looked sheepish. 

“Fourteen?” He said it like a question, and Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. “It’s fine though, I’ve been driving since I was twelve years old. And I turn fifteen in a few months!” 

This did not make Yoongi feel better. “Namjoon makes you rescue runaways?” Jungkook’s pout was so visible he didn’t need to translate the sensation of emotions coming off the young teenager - he refused to allow Jungkook’s petulant mood to change his mind. “You’re a kid.”

“So are you,” Jungkook retorted, then blushed. “Sorry, I should be more polite.”

“You should,” Yoongi agreed. “I’m not a kid anymore anyways, never really got the chance.” He’d been Jungkook’s age when he’d been taken away from his home and forced to adapt to the Academy lifestyle. Looking at the boy in the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself, and the loss of his childhood. 

“And you think I did?” Jungkook murmured, and the car fell into silence. “Sorry,” Jungkook apologized again. “I’ve got no powers, but I can tell you’re anxious, and I’m sure I’m making it worse.” He let out a huff, spinning the wheel until the car changed direction. Yoongi wondered if the boy was trying to shake any followers from their path, or if he just innately knew which direction he was heading in. 

“You’re not,” Yoongi sighed, and he could feel the anxiousness coming from Jungkook. “Don’t worry about me, I’m the one who should be grateful, not trying to tell you off. I didn’t think Namjoon would be working with people so young, but there’s a lot about the outside world that I know nothing about.” He glanced out the window at the endless desert, remnants of old Korea already fallen. “I’m just glad it worked.” 

“‘Course it did,” Jungkook replied, and he was smiling softly. “Namjoon-hyung is the smartest person I know, he can do anything .” 

Yoongi wondered if it was hero worship, but then he felt a tremor of attraction, maybe even love , and knew that Jungkook’s blush meant a little bit more. He smiled back and nodded. “Yeah, he can.” 

The drive lasted almost the full day. Jungkook stopped twice to refill the gas from containers in the trunk, and Yoongi would wait in the passenger seat, anxiety swirling until the boy returned with a cheerful grin. “Do we stop for the night somewhere?” Yoongi asked, watching the sky turn pink as the sun set over the mountains (so green, so unlike the deserted flat landscape, Yoongi had never seen so many trees ). 

“Nah, we’re only a few minutes away,” Jungkook said, pulling the car down a more maintained road. “We’ve got a safehouse - well, more like a safe compound, I guess, because it’s multiple buildings.”

“And they’re all escapees?” Yoongi asked curiously, trying not to let his anxiety get worse. Jungkook shrugged.

“A mix, I guess? Some defectors, some born out here like me.”

“And…” Yoongi trailed off, but Jungkook seemed to understand his question. 

“No Guides,” he said, but his tone sounded uneasy. Yoongi stared at him until his shoulders fell slightly. “We, um… we do have a Sentinel with us though.”

It took a moment to sink in, and in that moment, Jungkook tried to ease his unsaid worries. “He’s great , though! Born out here, not Seoul, so he’s not like… a normal Sentinel, you know? At least, not the kind that you’re used to.” 

“Let me out,” Yoongi gasped, tugging at the door handle. His door remained locked, and his fingers were shaking too much to tug the lock successfully. Jungkook reached over to grab his hand, maybe to comfort him, but Yoongi flinched violently. “You don’t understand, I just escaped a forced match, I’m not going to be forced into another one -”

“Hyung isn’t like that!” Jungkook pleaded, and the car was slowing down as the compound came into view too quickly. Yoongi realized it was too late, there were already bodies at the entrance, and if one of them was the Sentinel -

“Jungkook, please ,” Yoongi begged, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. “I need to run, I won’t become a Sentinel’s property, I can’t .”

“You won’t,” Jungkook whispered, as the car came to a stop. “Hyung would never force you to do anything, I promise.” 

And Yoongi realized he had no choice but to trust the promise of a fourteen year old, just like he had trusted Namjoon to help him escape. The door unlocked with a click, and Jungkook sent him one last pleading look before he opened up his own door. “We’re back!” He shouted to the small crowd. “Um, he’s a little nervous though. Hoseok-hyung, maybe you should go back inside…” 

A man broke away from the group, walking towards the car with a sunny smile and a wave. “Ah, it’ll be fine! We’re not a match, I can already tell.” He peered through the dirty window and Yoongi stared back, wildly confused at the instant calm that swept over him at those words. Trusting strangers so easily had never come naturally to Yoongi, but between Jungkook, Namjoon, and now this new stranger Hoseok, maybe it was time to rethink that. 

“You’re safe here,” Hoseok continued, and moved slowly to open the passenger door. “I promise.” 

Yoongi just nodded, because he didn’t trust himself to speak. Safe.

—

Jungkook unlocked the door, and when the dust settled, they stepped past the threshold. Like many other homes in this area, remnants of the past lay frozen in time, home now to tiny insects and layers of dust. Yoongi wondered what it had been like a century ago, when a fire blazed and a family sat around with cups of tea or something stronger, sharing stories of unimaginable freedom. 

“Rest for a bit,” Jungkook said, leading Yoongi over to a dirty recliner and pressing his shoulder until he sank down. “Namjoon-hyung and I are going to fix the radio downstairs and send a message home, let them know what - what’s going on.” 

Yoongi could only nod, and Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss against his temple. “We’ll be fine, hyung,” he whispered. Yoongi could feel the faith coming from his dongsaeng, and wished for just a pinch of that same feeling. Instead, he could only revel in the silence coming from his newly-discovered Sentinel bond, and wait for the other shoe to drop.

Chapter Text

Pushing the car out of the ditch hadn’t taken too long, and Taehyung felt like his nerves were ignited as the car roared to life. “He’s close,” he breathed out, staring out the dusty window towards the rising mountains. “Hyung, I can feel it.”

“You can’t feel anything,” Seokjin sighed. “You’re not the Guide in this situation, Taehyung-ah. All you can do is see and hear a little bit better, but you know nothing about Yoongi-chi’s emotions -”

“Who?” Taehyung whirled around in his seat to stare at his hyung, who had suddenly shut his mouth. “Hyung, do you know him?”

“No,” Seokjin tried, but he was always shit at lying, unable to hold Taehyung’s eye contact. “Aish, I don’t really know him…”

“But you know his name.”

“Yes,” Seokjin admitted. “We may have crossed paths at some point, but he escaped only a couple weeks after I joined the Academy.”

“Tell me, hyung,” Taehyung pleaded. The car purred beneath them as Taehyung inched through the messy roads carefully. His focus was almost completely on Seokjin, who seemed resigned. “Please tell me everything.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Seokjin began, and then took a deep breath. 

—

Seokjin had been almost eighteen when he displayed his Guide powers, considered a ‘late bloomer’ by Academy standards. Considered an ‘abject failure’ by his Kim relatives, who had so far had only produced Sentinels and normal citizens. Seokjin had been perfectly happy being a normal citizen, until he witnessed an accident and suddenly felt an onslaught of emotions in the wake of tragedy. He had hid in the bathroom until he couldn’t take it anymore, and his mother cried with him until his father came home. 

Seokjin went to the Academy the next day. And then proceeded to embarrass his family even more by scoring low, his Guide skills unimpressive. 

They test fairly early, especially when Guides present older. Seokjin had been ushered into a private room less than a week into his presentation, stood in front of Sentinels and tried to understand exactly what they wanted him to do and failing spectacularly. When he turned nineteen, he was told he would be nothing more than an in-between Guide, someone who would play a supporting role his entire life.

Before he had presented as a Guide, Seokjin had lived a gilded life. Now, he was the lowest on an already-chopped totem pole. 

Yoongi sat next to him once, jittery and anxious as he glanced around the dining hall. “You’re Kim Seokjin?”

Seokjin barely felt like himself anymore, but he nodded anyways. “You’re rich?”

“Not anymore,” Seokjin said honestly. His mother had sent a letter earlier that week, stating that he should not write home anymore, and should consider the Academy his only family now. He was officially cut off. 

Yoongi’s shoulders fell. “Shit. I need cash.” 

“Why?” Seokjin asked curiously, but Yoongi wouldn’t say anything further on the subject. Instead, they talked about surface-level things the rest of dinner. 

“The library is nice,” Yoongi said, pushing his rice around his tray. He had barely touched his food. “Kim Namjoon, one of the interns, he’s… he’s really nice, you should talk to him.”

“Why would I talk to a library intern?” Seokjin asked incredulously, and Yoongi sighed heavily, as if he was missing something important. 

“Just… there’s options, Seokjin-ssi.”

“Call me hyung.” At Yoongi’s startled glance, Seokjin shrugged. “Might as well be friends, if we’re going to be here for a while, right?”

Yoongi bit his lip. “Yeah,” he said, after a moment with a weak smile. His teeth looked like little graves, perfectly straight and uniform protruding from soft pink gums. “Friends sounds good.” He left later, and Seokjin only saw him in the hallways from then on, looking more and more fragile and uneasy. 

And then he was gone. Seokjin looked for him for weeks, too scared to ask what had happened. He heard through the grapevine that Yoongi had escaped, but by then it was too late. Seokjin went to the library to look for Namjoon, but the man had been moved to another department. 

Seokjin made more friends after that, but none of them made Seokjin feel seen , like there was more to Guides beyond their Sentinel-specific abilities, like the possibility of friendship was not some imaginary ideal. 

Not until Park Jimin. 

—

“He was gone before you arrived,” Seokjin finished warily, watching Taehyung for signs of zoning. “I barely knew him, but - well, he looks mostly the same after all these years.” 

“And Namjoon?” 

“Never officially met him, but Jimin-ah spoke about him,” Seokjin said. “So he might still be in Seoul, helping facilitate escapes.” Seokjin didn’t mention how many times he’d looked for Kim Namjoon those months after Yoongi escaped. His parents never spoke to him again, despite his many attempts to reach out. When one was presented with the shitty option of being never-bonded, always someone’s in-between, it’s only natural to look for an escape route. 

But Seokjin wasn’t even brave enough to risk everything on an escape, had stopped looking for Namjoon when it seemed too risky to ask more dangerous questions. No wonder his parents wanted nothing to do with him. 

Taehyung was staring out the window, towards the mountains. Seokjin wondered what his senses were focused on, knew he could reach out and pull him back a little (mentally, physically, but both options made him uneasy now that Taehyung was in such a volatile state). “Yoongi-ssi was adamantly against being bonded,” Seokjin said hesitantly, but Taehyung wasn’t paying attention to him. “Taehyung?”

But Taehyung just smiled. “Look, hyung. Birds.” 

Seokjin wondered for a moment if the Sentinel had already lost it. “Aish, Tae -”

“No, look .” Taehyung pointed at a pair of birds that had just taken flight from a tightly-packed group of trees near the base of the mountain. “That’s where they are.” The car began to inch forward, and Seokjin grasped his seatbelt uneasily. “We’re close.”

Seokjin stayed silent, once again too scared to take a risk. Yoongi-ssi would be fine, Taehyung was a good kid. Right?

Chapter Text

Yoongi sometimes wondered which was worse - silence or noise. When he was surrounded by people, their emotions felt like waves, pulling him further from sanity with each pull of the tide, unable to find his own footing as he drowned in it all. But then silence felt eerily empty, like something was wrong. Like the emotions were just waiting around the corner, giving Yoongi a semblance of peace before they pounced. 

Sometimes, the anticipation was worse.

Yoongi stared at the empty fireplace, counting the spiderwebs that draped over the corners. If he were a Sentinel, he could count each string of web, hear the creatures scurrying away from the sudden noises. But he wasn’t, and thinking of Sentinels only made things worse. 

Yoongi felt the empty silence of his mind shift - an imperceptible change, but one Yoongi had been trained to recognize. A tug of something in the distance, getting closer and closer with each breath. 

Yoongi stood up, knees shaky. His Sentinel was coming. 

—

Jung Hoseok was unlike any Sentinel Yoongi had ever met. He was joyful, for one. He didn’t have any of the seriousness or superiority of the Sentinels Yoongi knew. He spoke to Yoongi like they were equals, like their intersecting powers were just as insignificant as their hair color. And Hoseok didn’t try to reach out to him mentally, which was another major difference. Yoongi kept the mental wall up, but didn’t feel even the slightest poke trying to breach it. Hoseok simply didn’t care that he was a Guide. 

It was so refreshing Yoongi almost cried in relief. Looking back now, he is glad he didn’t, because Hoseok had found plenty of other things to laugh at him about over the years, and being a crybaby didn’t need to be part of that list. 

Still, when Yoongi first met Hoseok, he was extremely wary. “That’s understandable,” Hoseok said reassuringly, leading Jungkook and Yoongi further into the complex. “I’m born and raised outside of Seoul, but I’ve talked to enough defectors to know that Sentinels feel some undeserved propriety over Guides.” He shrugged and opened the door to the cafeteria. “We don’t own each other out here, no matter what sort of shit we’re born with.” 

Yoongi tried not to let the words reassure him. Hoseok could very well be lying, waiting for the perfect moment when he’d let his guard down. He grabbed a plate and stuck close to Jungkook, taking only small amounts of food so that no one could admonish him for being greedy. And when they cleared their trays, Yoongi slipped the butter knife into his pocket. Just in case . 

Yoongi spent the next few days trying his hardest to stay awake. They had given him his own room, a small cot and a few threadbare blankets and endless apologies from Jungkook (“Namjoon-hyung tries to smuggle things out, but can you believe that’s even harder than smuggling out people? He’s so talented though! So we’ll have better items soon, I promise!”). The door didn’t lock (another apology from Jungkook), so Yoongi sat straightbacked on the cot all night, butter knife held tightly in his hand. 

In the morning, Jungkook found him hunched over sleeping with the knife at his feet. “Hyung,” he said sorrowfully. “You need to sleep the proper way.” 

Yoongi promised he would, and then spent the night biting his cheek to stay awake. When Jungkook checked on him the next morning, he didn’t comment on Yoongi’s red-rimmed eyes. It went on until Yoongi started dozing off during dinner, his body unable to fight to stay awake. “Hyung, I know you don’t trust us, but…” 

“Yoongi-ssi, come with me,” Hoseok said, firm yet gentle. Yoongi was too weak to fight him, couldn’t even address the terror that crawled up his spine as Jungkook helped guide him into a familiar-looking room. The walls were padded for ideal sound-proofing, there were candles and incense burners littering the cabinets, and the rug felt soft enough to disappear in. They had these rooms at the Academy too. 

“I can’t -” he protested, but Hoseok just gently pushed his shoulders down until he was sitting. 

“Yes, you can. It’ll make you feel better.” The door closed behind Jungkook, and Yoongi was alone with a Sentinel. And this time, he was truly defenseless. “Close your eyes.” 

Yoongi had no fight left. Jungkook had taken the butter knife with an apologetic wince. Hoseok was smiling at him, so gentle, so kind, so… it could all be fake. Yoongi closed his eyes anyways. Hoseok wasn’t so bad, right? If he was about to be forced into a connection, there were worse options. 

“Take a deep breath, good. Another, hold it for a few seconds and release. Now…” hands clasped his, warm against Yoongi’s cold skin. “Let go.” 

As a Guide, Yoongi was constantly bombarded with other people’s emotions. Anger, joy, greed, fear. He’d felt all of those and more at the Academy, and where some Guides relished their abilities, Yoongi had always feared them. Because the truth was scary. 

“See for yourself,” Hoseok murmured, his voice sounding further away even as they remained connected. “We aren’t going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yoongi took a deep breath, and then let his walls down. The truth was usually terrifying, but for once, he felt peace. For once, someone was telling the truth. 

—

The porch creaked as Yoongi stepped outside, his hand catching the door before it slammed shut. Jungkook and Namjoon were at the back of the house, but they would come running if they heard the front door. There was no use in hiding anymore, but the least he could do was keep his friends safe. Yoongi breathed in the forest air, let it fill his lungs for a moment, taking up space where a Sentinel would soon possess. 

As he breathed out, he heard the car coming up the road. Yoongi couldn’t see it yet, but he could imagine it. Shining black metal with government plates, with blurred bodies behind glass tensed in anticipation. His Sentinel hadn’t been alone, but Yoongi wouldn’t place any hope in a government-issued Guide helping him escape. 

No, it was up to him. Yoongi couldn’t save himself, he knew that, but he could save Jungkook and Namjoon. He was the prize, he was the goal. So he would be the one they would chase. 

Yoongi waited until the black car came into view, and then he ran. 

Chapter Text

Jimin hadn’t seen the sunshine in years. 

It burnt his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to hide under the shade. After spending years in white-padded rooms, Jimin wasn’t about to waste a second of fresh air and real sunlight. He could be killed this instant, and he would die happier than he’d ever been in his life. 

And he really did think he’d die today. Those previous times were nothing compared to the current threat of death - not the day he’d presented as a Guide, fifteen and terrified in the basement of a Government orphanage; not the day he’d first felt the tendrils of a Sentinel poking at his mind and went feral from fear; not the day Yoongi disappeared, taking with him the one inch of hope Jimin had allowed himself; not the countless days stuck inside the Academy medical rooms, enduring poking and prodding of both his physical and mental facilities. 

No, today was going to be the day. Jimin would die because he wanted freedom, and it would be worth it. 

—

When Namjoon had approached him, he’d been on his mandated fifteen minute break in the common area. Guards stood ten feet behind him, instructed to drag him back to his room if he tried to interact with any other Guides, but Namjoon was not a Guide. 

He was a librarian. 

Jimin stared at him as Namjoon sat down on the concrete bench, a pile of books in his arm. “Those for me?” he finally asked, and Namjoon smiled and nodded. 

“Figured you would like something to read,” Namjoon replied, and the books toppled into Jimin’s smaller fingers and weaker arms. “There’s some good variety, but I’d recommend starting with this one.” He tapped the top book, a plain, black cover with the government-approved seal in the top-right corner. 

“Thanks,” Jimin said warily. “When do you need them back?” 

“Take your time, think about them,” Namjoon said vaguely. “I picked them out special for you.” Jimin just stared at him - he had met Kim Namjoon in passing a couple times, a friendly face amongst a sea of frowns, but they weren’t friends . Yoongi had mentioned him a few times, and Jimin had shared that with Seokjin, his one allowed Guide friend (he wasn’t supposed to have any Guide friends, but Seokjin had a way of getting what he wanted, and no one saw Seokjin as an asset anyways). Kim Namjoon was nobody, yet he spent the next five minutes of Jimin’s remaining fifteen minute break chatting about normal things, and it felt a little like friendship. 

Jimin returned the smile he received, and went back to his room. When he opened the plain, black-covered book, he found a note. 

—

It had taken a year, but Namjoon kept his word. Jimin had disappeared from his guards and found his escape vehicle (a janitor’s cart, his knees grasped by his shaking fingers and pressed against his wildly beating heart), and then had made it to the underground tunnels Namjoon had marked on his latest note. Namjoon spent more time outside of Seoul these days, but no one looked for him. 

Jimin sometimes wished he could be a nobody too. 

And now he was outside, Seoul miles away and blinking in the distance. He’d escaped his prison, but they would find him. Jimin was no asset, not anymore, not after suffering for almost a decade from weak abilities and a feral mind. But he was still the property of the Government, and they did not let Guides disappear so easily. Jimin still remembered the search when Yoongi had escaped, the way soldiers combed through the dorm rooms for any clues. 

Even now, they still talked about him. Guides weren’t allowed to gossip, of course, but Jimin had heard rumblings from his guards. Min Yoongi escaping had given people hope for a moment, and that was a dangerous thing.

Jimin wondered if they would announce his escape so publicly, or try to hide it. People rarely saw Jimin these days anyways, so hiding it wasn’t so difficult. 

Jimin tilted his head back again, the sunshine blanketing him in burning comfort. Was it always so hot outside of Seoul? There was no use wondering, not when he’d be dragged back into his white padded room soon enough, but it would be nice to enjoy something like this all the time. He wished he could bottle up the sunshine and hide it in his pockets, something he could take out and admire when he was surrounded by walls. 

Jimin felt the ground rumble behind him. They’d found him so quickly. Would they torture Namjoon’s name out of him? Jimin vowed at that moment to never speak again, they could burn him and cut him and drown him and contain him, but he would never utter another sound. He needed to keep Namjoon safe. He needed to keep Yoongi safe. He needed -

“Jimin-ssi?”

The car had stopped, but the voice hovering behind him did not sound angry or threatening. Instead of the familiar gravel of guards, this voice was light and musical, carrying hope through the sunshine. Jimin felt something tug at his chest, an ache that didn’t hurt. 

He’d never felt this before, even though he’d heard about that feeling when a Guide matched with a Sentinel. Jimin’s heart pounded harder now, and he closed his eyes quickly as the shadow of a body fell over him. They were blocking the sun, but Jimin still felt impossibly warm, like the shadow was a safety blanket. His chest tightened at the word - safety . He’d never really understood the feeling, had never really been safe before. Hands settled on his shoulders. 

“You’re safe,” the voice said, and Jimin realized his eyes were still closed. “And, um - I think, well, I’m not sure if you feel it but - “ 

Jimin cracked his eyes open and stared at the face hovering in front of him. Dark hair pushed back by a bright headband, so that his tanned skin was completely visible. Dark eyes that sparkled, a long nose between sharp cheekbones, a smile that made Jimin feel warmer than the sun shining behind him. 

“Hi,” the man breathed out when their eyes locked. “I’m Hoseok, and I think I’m your Sentinel match.” He looked down sheepishly. “I know you’re trying to run away from that life, and that you’ve faced a lot of difficulties inside Seoul and are probably terrified, but I promise I won’t force you into anything, I don’t believe in their teachings, I -”

Jimin reached up to clasp his cheek, and Hoseok stopped talking immediately. “Hi,” he responded, and then smiled for the first time in a long time.

Chapter Text

The trees grew taller as Yoongi ran deeper into the forest, climbing around him to tower like walls. His footsteps were too loud. He knew that he could be quieter, but that meant slowing down. And slowing down meant being captured. 

Delaying the inevitable felt a bit stupid, but hope made Yoongi keep going. Maybe this Sentinel was defective, maybe -

Snap.

Yoongi froze as a twig cracked, echoing through the forest like a whip. It could be Namjoon, it could be Jungkook, it could be a goddamn bear, anything but… Yoongi felt something tug at his emotions, a sensation that could only mean one thing. 

“Guide.” The voice was deep, full-bodied in a way that Yoongi’s raspy vocal cords could never dream of producing. It made Yoongi want to fling to the ground and surrender. It made him want to turn around and fall to his knees in front of a stranger. 

Yoongi chose to run instead. 

—

There - a flash of movement, dark hair and pale skin clashing with the moss and mud. And there - leaves brustling, mud squelching under black worn boots. And there - the vibrations of footsteps through the forest, his Guide running from his Sentinel. Taehyung’s senses had never been so alert. 

It felt like magic, like Taehyung had been reborn into some illuminated being who had transcended humanity. Here in the woods his ancestors had once called home, Taehyung knew that this relationship, this boy who was stumbling through the forest, was his past, present, and future. 

He glanced left at the sight of a branch swaying, and his feet followed. 

“Stop running!” He shouted, even as he smiled. His Guide was here! And sure , running away from him wasn’t the ideal reaction he’d hoped for, but he’d clear things right up the second he caught Yoongi. He could imagine it, the way Yoongi would stumble when Taehyung’s hand wrapped around his wrist, but he wouldn’t fall - no, Taehyung would never let harm come to his Guide, especially at his hands. And then Yoongi would spin around, right into his chest, and Taehyung could wrap his arms around the already-familiar body (in mind only for now, but Taehyung was ready to be physically familiar too). Their hearts would beat in sync, and Taehyung could finally hear his Guide’s voice up close. 

“Fuck off!”

Well, perhaps the second sentence would be better. 

Taehyung heard Yoongi’s breath catch, and at the same time he saw the branch catch Yoongi’s pants leg and ensnare him. Time moved slowly, giving him just enough time to grab his Guide’s jacket and keep him from falling. “I got you,” Taehyung breathed out, but then Yoongi was twisting and -

Taehyung held the jacket aloft, his Guide slipping out of his grasp with a speed he hadn’t anticipated. “You should listen when I tell you to fuck off,” Yoongi gasped, but he was grinning, a wild smile that didn’t meet his eyes but lit up his face anyways, and Taehyung was stunned by how perfectly it fit his small face. “Go back home, Sentinel.” 

And then he was gone. Taehyung grasped the jacket, still scent-heavy with his Guide’s sweat and uniquely earthy fragrance. His Guide’s voice was gravely, almost as deep as Taehyung’s but with a gruff cadence that fit his rebel attire. He was so fucking beautiful, and Taehyung let his eyes close for a moment, basking in the relief of having his Guide so within reach. 

But not close enough yet. Taehyung’s eyes snapped open, and he followed the trail Yoongi couldn’t help but leave. 

—

Yoongi was sweating, the loss of his jacket barely providing relief as he ran. Which direction was he even going anyways? He didn’t know these woods, not like Jungkook, and he could very well be running towards his death. His outcome was the same either way, it seemed, but Yoongi would be damned if he let a Sentinel choose for him. 

There was mud beneath his feet now. The squelching would be audible, and Yoongi swore under his breath as his shoes stuck to the wet earth. How to defeat a Sentinel during a chase they were predestined to win? Their senses were superior to Yoongi’s, because where he could feel the Sentinel’s fleeting rotation of glee, fear, surprise, success, the Sentinel would hear every beat of his heart and every step he took. 

How to defeat a Sentinel? Fuck with their senses. 

Yoongi knelt to pick up a rock, his breathing unsteady and too loud. But if he could cause the Sentinel to zone out, maybe he could get away… Yoongi flung the rock, and it hit a tree trunk with an audible clang. He picked up another and threw it further away from him, the sound echoing through the trees. 

“That won’t work!” His Sentinel shouted. “Your heartbeat is my North Star, Yoongi!”

Fuck. How did the Sentinel know his name? Yoongi was grateful for the fear, because his breath caught (and his heart must’ve stopped, because he suddenly went ice cold). 

“How -” he whispered, and a sweet laugh ricocheted off the trees. 

“You’ll be safe, Yoongi,” the voice said, and it sounded closer than before. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

That was enough to make Yoongi run again. 

—

Taehyung knew what his Guide was doing, and was so astoundingly proud . He was trying to throw off his senses, trying to force one sense to overpower the others as Yoongi threw his rocks and whispered into the leaves, taunting him even as his heart pounded. Yoongi would be a powerful Guide, he could already feel it. And with that power, the Academy would be unable to force any sort of punishment, not when Taehyung held all the cards. With Yoongi by his side, his life would be perfect. 

And the chase made it all the sweeter. Myths of days past flickered through Taehyung’s mind, stories of their ancestors worshipping the remarkable bond between Sentinel and Guide, the passion and romance that came in tandem with a mental connection. Somewhere down the years, they had lost the romance, but Taehyung had always been a romantic. Yoongi would see - he would be worshipped. 

He shook himself back into the present when Yoongi’s footsteps echoed even closer. He was near, he only needed to reach out and take, there would be no jacket to slip out of this time. Yoongi must’ve known too, because his breathing was getting faster, choked gasps and whines falling out of his mouth. “No, please -”

Yes.

Yoongi fell, and Taehyung was close enough to catch him, his hands flying out to cradle Yoongi’s head before it hit the ground. Their bodies collided, Taehyung’s chest pressed against Yoongi’s back, his fingers between the dirt and soft dark hair. They fit together so perfectly. 

“No, get off, let me go!” 

Taehyung’s heart ached for his Guide, hating the fear and despair laced in that deep, scratchy voice. But things would get better, things would get easier. He was sure of it. He only had to make sure Yoongi couldn’t get away. 

—

Yoongi hated the feeling of his Sentinel’s triumph almost as much as he hated the heaviness of the body on top of him. But he hated something else more. 

It didn’t register at first, the cold shock of metal around his wrist. But the click that echoed could only be one thing. His Sentinel rolled off of him and Yoongi scrambled up, but he couldn’t pull away, not without a painful tug shooting up his arm. 

Yoongi looked down. One silver bracelet slung around his thin wrist, too tight for him to wiggle out of even as it hung loosely. The chain connected him to a tanned wrist and matching bracelet, long Sentinel uniform sleeve covering the rest of his forearm. When Yoongi glanced up, his Sentinel had a sheepish sort of smile. Yoongi could feel no regret though, only jubilation and pride coming off like waves from his Sentinel. The idiot had handcuffed them together. 

“What the fuck.”

Chapter Text

“What is wrong with you?”

The Sentinel blinked back at him, but didn’t say anything. He just knelt over him, their wrists connected by glinting silver, and stared. Yoongi felt disconcerted by the height difference, scrambling to his feet even as his chest strained to catch his breath. The Sentinel came up with him, and Yoongi was annoyed to find that he was shorter than the man. “Unlock it.”

“I don’t have the key.” Yoongi glared at him, stepping back to put as much distance between them as their dumb confinement would allow.

“Bullshit. Unlock me, now.”

“No, I’m serious.” The Sentinel took a step closer, but stopped at Yoongi’s warning growl. “It’s back in the car.”

“You think I’m that stupid?” Yoongi scoffed, tugging harder just to see the man wince as it pulled on their skin. “I’m not going back there with you, I don’t care if you think I’m your match -”

“You are though.” The Sentinel ignored Yoongi’s scowl and took eager steps forward, forcing Yoongi backwards until his shoulders pressed into a tree. “Can’t you feel it? Please tell me you can.” His eyes were watery, eyebrows furrowed in distress. Yoongi tried to ignore how the anguish settled between his ribs too, carving out space and filling him with a dull sense of pain. 

“No clue what you’re talking about,” Yoongi lied. “Let me go.” 

“You’re lying.” He said it forcefully, but Yoongi could see (and feel) the tendrils of doubt. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re my Guide, I could feel it back in the desert, from the moment I saw you!” 

“I don’t know what you felt, but it’s wrong,” Yoongi said firmly, ducking down beneath the Sentinel’s arms and claiming space again. “Sorry to disappoint, Sentinel, but I’m -”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry, what?”

The Sentinel held out his free hand with a rueful smile. “Kim Taehyung.” Yoongi stared at the hand, at those polished fingernails and evenly tanned skin. 

“What, am I supposed to shake your hand while handcuffed?” Yoongi watched it fall back against the Sentinel’s - Taehyung’s - side. “How did you know my name?” 

“When did you leave the Academy?” Taehyung ignored his question, and Yoongi rolled his eyes. “You must’ve left just before I got there, otherwise we would’ve known right away that we were matches. I’ve spent years waiting for my Guide, and now…” Taehyung looked at him reverently. “You’re here.” 

“You’re touched in the head,” Yoongi mumbled. “How’d you know my name?”

“Seokjin-hyung.” 

“That little shit.” 

“He didn’t mean to,” Taehyung said quickly. “He’s back in the car, he’ll be really happy to see you! Let’s go back, Yoongi-nim, and you can see him.” 

Something is wrong with this kid, Yoongi thought, planting his feet to the ground even as Taehyung tried to gently tug him back towards the trees. No one spoke to a Guide so formally, not if they were from the Academy. Hell, this was perhaps the gentlest outcome imaginable from a Sentinel finding their Guide, especially when it resulted in a chase. Yoongi had half-expected to be slammed to the ground and tased for his transgressions. 

“No,” he tried again, just to see what would happen. Taehyung sighed heavily. Yoongi waited for him to pull out a gun or some sort of weapon, but instead the man sat down on the damp ground, his caged wrist hanging limply in the air between them. 

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s talk,” Taehyung said quietly, looking up at Yoongi with an expression he could only decipher as pleading. “Tell me about yourself.”

“This isn’t a date,” Yoongi countered, and Taehyung shrugged. Yoongi felt the movement up his wrist, and he felt the slightest bit of hope from the Sentinel in his chest. “What do you want to know?”

Taehyung smiled softly. “Everything.” 

—

Yoongi was perfect, even with his anger coming off in waves. Taehyung couldn’t help but stare at his Guide’s dark eyes, the perfect slant and the shadows beneath his lower lashes. He traced the slope of his button nose, found the beauty marks on his nose and cheek, and committed the blush pink of his pouty bottom lip to memory. Yoongi wasn’t speaking, but he had knelt down with a sigh, his knees jutting out like a wall to protect himself even in their moment of peace. 

“When did you leave the Academy?” Taehyung asked curiously. Yoongi stayed silent for a moment. “Please tell me.” 

“It’s been years,” Yoongi mumbled. “Seven or eight, I don’t know - I left when I was seventeen.” 

“How’d you get out?”

“You’ll have to torture that out of me,” Yoongi said with a rogue smirk. “Think you have it in you, Sentinel? They teach you how to punish misbehaving Guides yet?” The handcuff clinked as Yoongi leaned back onto his elbows, legs splaying out in a facade of surrender. He even tilted his neck back, fully exposed, and Taehyung found himself trapped as he watched a drop of sweat race down Yoongi’s pale skin. 

“I’d never let them hurt you,” Taehyung mumbled, watching as a second bead of sweat followed the first. Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before relaxing. “You’re my Guide, I’m going to protect you.” 

“I’m not your anything,” Yoongi said darkly, and Taehyung tried not to let the anger rattle him. “The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be. Seokjin-hyung is a good person, let him be your Guide.” 

“He’s your hyung?” Taehyung tried to change the subject, eager to find something that would erase the line of resentment between Yoongi’s brow. “You’re younger than him?”

Yoongi shrugged. “By a few months.”

“Then you’re my hyung too.” Taehyung felt something bloom in his chest, and at Yoongi’s exasperated sigh, he knew his Guide felt it too. “Can I call you hyung?”

“You’re just a kid, aren’t you?” Yoongi mumbled, sitting back up to stare at Taehyung with a look of irritation. “What, do you have some idealistic view of Guides and Sentinels having some happy, equal relationship? You’ve lived in Seoul all your life, haven’t you? Then you know what this -” he gestured between them, and the handcuffs clinked at the movement. “ - means. You can call me whatever the fuck you want, and in the eyes of the law, I can’t do anything about it.” He gestured up towards the forest. “Hence the running away.” 

“I won’t call you anything you don’t like,” Taehyung said quickly. This was good ! Yoongi just needed reassurance that Taehyung wouldn’t force him into anything! Sure, some Sentinels acted like he’d described, thought they could control their Guides completely. But Taehyung wasn’t like them. Yoongi could do whatever he wanted, as long as he was safe and stayed close and allowed himself to open up, just a little . Just enough that Taehyung could wriggle into his heart and make a home there. “I won’t be like that, hyung -”

—

“Did I say you could call me that?” Taehyung’s mouth snapped shut, and Yoongi’s lip twitched upwards at the contrite look on the man’s - boy’s, really, Taehyung had that sort of boyish charm that he’d really only seen in Jungkook - face. “You will be like that, Taehyung-ah, because that’s what the Academy expects from you. And that’s why I refuse to go back to your Government car, and I will refuse to bond with you.” He felt like an idiot for talking so placatingly to a Sentinel, but Taehyung made him feel… almost apologetic? 

Yoongi shook his head, trying to also shake away his thoughts as he glanced upwards. The tree branches swayed in the wind, too gentle to cool off his heated body, but there was something soothing about being out here. It made him calmer, even in the face of the thing he feared the most. “I know it sucks, and I’m sorry. You seem better than most Sentinels I’ve met, but I refuse to bond with you. I refuse to return to the Academy, I refuse to let them turn me into a weapon or a prisoner. I refuse to give up.” 

He was met with silence. It was peaceful, sure, but Yoongi frowned anyways. What, did the boy have no retort? Was he stewing in anger, or plotting some elaborate ruse to trick Yoongi into accepting his supposed fate? Yoongi found himself missing that deep voice, and scolded himself for already feeling so attached to it. “What, not going to argue anymore?” 

When he still heard nothing, Yoongi glanced over. Taehyung sat there, staring at him with wide brown eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly. “What?” He didn’t answer, and Yoongi’s heartbeat picked up again - that same fear from earlier that made his heart run wild. “Taehyung-ah? What’s wrong with you?” 

But he knew. Yoongi had never seen it before, but he knew. 

—

Yoongi-hyung is so beautiful , Taehyung thought, even as his Guide scoffed at him and scolded him and promised him that he would never submit. The sunlight was filtering through the trees, so shadows danced across Yoongi’s pale skin and highlights bounced off the fullness of his cheeks and the bright white of his teeth. Sweat had matted his long hair against his neck, but tendrils were drying and unsticking from his skin, and Taehyung watched them float down over Yoongi’s loose collar. He could see the outline of his collarbones through the thin material. Yoongi wore a necklace, a thin leather band tugged down by the weight of a silver medallion. 

Taehyung wanted to dress him in jewels, but had a feeling they would look dull next to his Guide’s organic beauty. 

Yoongi had stopped talking for a moment, and his eyelids fluttered. Taehyung counted the eyelashes, drawn to the way they cast shadows over the top of Yoongi’s cheeks. How many eyelashes did a person have? Yoongi must have more, with how beautifully they outlined the shape of his lid. One, two, three, four, five…

Everything else faded away to nothingless, and Taehyung found himself trapped in the beauty of his Guide. Or perhaps trapped was the wrong word, because Taehyung gave himself up willingly. If this was what zoning out felt like, he wouldn’t mind falling into the depths of Yoongi’s dark, panicking eyes, content in counting his eyelashes the rest of his days.

Chapter Text

No, no, NO! This could not be happening. Yoongi stared at Taehyung, wishing desperately for a sign that the boy was not zoning, that this was just some cruel joke. But Taehyung just stared back at him, eyes unfocused and glossy. His chest rose and fell in even breaths, but his fingers lay docile by his side, one hand limp in the handcuff even as Yoongi’s hands began to shake. 

“What the fuck do I do?” Yoongi gasped, hands hovering over Taehyung’s shoulders but too scared to land. Was he supposed to touch? Would that do more harm than good? “Shit, shit, SHIT.” 

Yoongi looked around the forest for inspiration. But what was he supposed to find in the middle of nowhere? If it weren’t for these fucking handcuffs, he could -

Run for help, but also run away. Leave the Sentinel on the damp earth and forget the last twenty-four hours of his life. Be free from the threat of the Academy and Seoul, live in anonymous freedom until he died of old age. Yoongi stared at Taehyung, despair and guilt and anger swirling inside him. But none of those emotions were Taehyung’s, and instead of eating him whole, Yoongi’s emotions felt lonely in the caverns of his mind. How quickly his Sentinel had carved up space inside of him. 

Yoongi wished he could feel hatred for the boy sitting in front of him. It would definitely make things easier. 

“I can’t carry you,” he whispered. “I can’t get you help. Taehyung-ah, you need to wake up.” 

Taehyung stayed silent. In the twenty or so minutes Yoongi had known him, the boy had never been silent or unexpressive. It was unnerving to see, the shell of a person. Yoongi wanted to scream. He wondered if that would help or hurt. 

“Taehyung, you need to tell me how to fix this,” he said. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. What had he learned during his time at the Academy? All these years trying to block it from his memory, and now he needed it. Yoongi shut his eyes, flipping through the strands of memories he could find. 

A Guide can help any Sentinel from getting too close to a zone, but once the Sentinel has fallen prey to their senses, it is very difficult to pull them back. 

Ok, that was no help. Taehyung had already fallen off the ledge. 

The best case scenario is for the bonded Guide to bring the Sentinel back to the surface, slowly and soothingly, reaching through their connection to comfort the Sentinel and help them refocus on the larger world. Do not try to stop the sense that is causing their zone out - in most instances, you will not know the immediate trigger, and can force a deeper zone. Instead, try to gently appeal to all five senses, with a special consideration on touch and sound. 

Non-bonded Guides will likely have little influence. Bonds are especially crucial to reaching deep into the inner minds of their Sentinels, and bonded pairs will be able to cross this precarious bridge without causing further harm. 

Yoongi did scream this time, a sound that scratched at his throat and made his teeth ache. He couldn’t do it, not to save a stranger . “Taehyung-ah, I need you to snap out of it,” he cried out, frustration and fear seeping into every word. “Kid, I need you to get out of this zone on your own.”

Taehyung’s expression remained blank. 

A Sentinel’s mind in a zone will not survive long. Their senses are overloaded, a machine overworked and emitting steam. Guides have to act fast in order to bring their Sentinel out of a zone. It is crucial that Sentinels are pulled out of a zone. 

Was it crucial? Would Yoongi be to blame if Taehyung didn’t survive this? Yoongi hated the Academy, hated every little thing he had learned all those years ago, hated that he remembered it all so easily. He stared at the boy in front of him, all that beauty and youth and optimism fixed for eternity in that placid expression. Yoongi didn’t trust easily, especially Sentinels, but… 

Taehyung had promised he wouldn’t hurt him. Wouldn’t force him. Were his words enough for Yoongi to do the unthinkable? 

Bonds require two steps. First the Guide opens the door to the connection, allowing the Sentinel into their mind and soul. And then the Sentinel must accept and bind the connection, closing the door to all other Guides. The process must be completed for both parties to feel at ease. An unfinished process is harmful, especially to the side that has already initiated. 

“You will not control me,” Yoongi whispered to Taehyung, staring desperately into vacant eyes. “You will not force me to do anything. You will not let them hurt me. You will… you won’t hurt me either. Promise me, Taehyung.” 

The boy said nothing, his expression did not change. Yoongi waited desperately for a moment, but nothing happened. “You won’t finish the bond,” he said shakily. “Not until I say you can.” 

And then he closed his eyes and allowed the connection to open. 

—

Taehyung was floating untethered. It felt strange, nothing like he’d ever felt before, but peaceful in that sort-of terrifying way only oceans could make you feel. Was he in the ocean? No, this felt darker somehow, the cavernous chocolate brown of Yoongi’s eyes all-consuming as feathered eyelashes climbed above him. Taehyung had never felt so relaxed, even as fear simmered beneath the water. 

Taehyung-ah!

If there was room for sound in Taehyung’s being, he imagined it would bounce off the waves. It was needed though, not here. 

Promise me .

Taehyung was floating, but there was something crawling up his arm, and it wasn’t water or chocolate brown ripples. He tried to ignore it, but it left a tingle on his skin, something he couldn’t ignore. 

Taehyung, do you hear me?

He wondered if he was nodding. The voice sounded urgent, so it was only right to respond. 

Taehyung, please, you need to listen to me. You need to blink, you need to unfocus from - shit, I don’t know where we are, it’s all dark? Why do these trees look so weird? 

Taehyung wanted to laugh. Yoongi didn’t recognize his own eyes? 

Are you fucking kidding me, these are my EYES? Kid, you really need to snap out of it, or I’ll never look at you again. I’ll get sunglasses so dark you can’t even see me blink. Wake up.

Taehyung did laugh this time. Or at least, he thought he did, he could feel his chest rising and falling and his lips twist upwards. And he could feel fingers - Yoongi’s fingers trailing up and down his arms, massaging the skin with uneven presses. The handcuffs clinked lightly with each movement. Taehyung remembered those handcuffs. He remembered the pale hand next to his, smaller than his but fingers long and delicate. 

There you go, come on. While you’re coming up, how about you tell me where the keys are for these cuffs, huh?

“They’re in the car, I told you,” Taehyung mumbled, and his lips felt heavy. But he wasn’t drowning, not anymore, he wasn’t even floating. Instead, he felt the wet ground seeping through the material of his pants. He heard the birds carrying on above them, rustling the leaves as they hopped between branches. He smelled the grass and mud surrounding them, and tasted the drop of sweat that slipped between his lips. 

Taehyung could see Yoongi in front of him, even more pale than before. But more than that, he could feel Yoongi. “You bonded with me,” Taehyung whispered, and his hand twisted to grab Yoongi’s before he could pull away. 

Yoongi’s relief transformed into rage. “You would’ve died,” he said, pulling out of Taehyung’s grasp. “I saved your fucking life. Who zones so quickly, huh? Why the hell did you have to do that?” 

“Your eyes are pretty,” Taehyung said, awareness coming back to him slowly as Yoongi’s frown deepened. “You opened up the bond connection, I can -”

“No.”

Taehyung stared at him. “Hyung, we need to finish the -”

“I said no,” Yoongi said sharply. “I don’t care about the rules, I don’t care what you’ve learned. If you try to force it, I will fight you for the rest of my life.” He stood up, pulling Taehyung up with him. Both of them were shaking, but Taehyung knew he was feeling the after-affects of the zone, while Yoongi was shaking in fear. He knew that, because the connection was open. Yoongi was open to him, laid out on the table with nothing to block them, beautiful and exposed completely. 

“Hyung, it’ll hurt you,” Taehyung whispered. Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, but Taehyung could feel the distress perfectly, as if it was his own. 

“You won’t force it,” Yoongi repeated. “If you do, I’ll never stop running. And that’s a promise.” 

Taehyung hated this, hated that his soulmate stood in front of him terrified and wounded - by the past, by Taehyung, by the unknown. Finally, he nodded. “I promise,” he whispered, and watched the relief flood through his Guide. 

‘I’ll change your mind.’ Another promise, but this one Taehyung kept to himself. 

Chapter Text

Jungkook glared at Seokjin. Out of all the people from Seoul who had crossed his path, Seokjin must’ve been the most obviously cosmopolitan. He was in some sort of suit, the stiff kind that Jungkook only saw in old pictures these days, and he seemed so nonchalant about his presence in the woods. He had kicked a pebble into the road with his polished shoe and smiled brightly, as if this entire affair was just a serendipitous meeting, not a Sentinel chasing their friend through the forest with the intention of forcing a bond. 

And worst of all, Seokjin knew Namjoon. 

“Ah, Namjoon-ah, there you are!” Why so informal? Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a retort, even as Namjoon gazed in surprise down the cabin stairs. “Gosh, I should be shocked you’re behind all of this, but it really does make sense, doesn’t it?” 

“Er -” Namjoon looked back and forth between Seokjin, the shining Government car, and Jungkook, who had crossed his arms over his chest and taken to glaring daggers down at the newcomer. “Well, it had to be someone, I guess.” 

“You’re absolutely right,” Seokjin said approvingly, and then he pushed off the hood of the car and met the pair at the foot of the steps. “Now, we’ve got a bit of a problem.” 

Damn right we do, Jungkook thought, watching the way Seokjin looked his Namjoon up and down. One hell of a problem.

—

Jungkook hadn’t told anyone he was coming here. It hurt, lying to his friends and his rebel caretakers, but they had been smothering him for days. They were watching him too carefully, waiting for him to snap and break apart. They had promised to be there to pick up the pieces, but Jungkook didn’t want them to see when it happened. 

His dad had been his best friend. His dad had been his only family. And now he was gone. 

Jungkook sniffled as the desert blurred in front of him. He hated how he couldn’t stop crying ! His dad would’ve made a joke, something so awful and unfunny that Jungkook would’ve snorted and berated him, but it would be enough to chase the sadness away. And when that wasn’t enough, his dad would pull him close and let Jungkook weep into his chest, just until the sadness was gone. 

His dad always knew how to fix his wildly-changing emotions. Being a Guide meant he could feel and understand emotions better than anyone, and Jungkook just knew that his dad was the best Guide there ever was. He calmed down the entire Rebel group, even during moments when they were sure they’d be found and eradicated. His dad was the rock of their little group, and now he was gone. 

Jungkook kicked a rock angrily, watching the dust rise and settle. And it had been so stupid , how he died. Who had heart attacks anymore? If they had lived in Seoul, his dad would’ve survived easily. 

But if we were in Seoul , his dad had said wearily as Jungkook shouted and destroyed their bedroom at the news, we wouldn’t be together.

They’d had thirteen good years together, that’s what everyone said. Jungkook had thought plenty about what he’d do for thirteen more in these past few days. 

The desert was silent as Jungkook cried. It was completely silent, until -

Jungkook shot up when he heard footsteps, his hand flying to the taser at his waist. It was probably someone coming to check up on him, but you could never be sure, and he didn’t exactly recognize that dark cropped hair… 

“Don’t shoot!” 

Jungkook shouldn’t have lowered his weapon, but he did anyways. The boy inching towards him had already raised his hands up, and he was coughing from the dust that rose up from around their legs. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” they both said at the same time, and then the boy smiled widely, the dirt on his cheeks cracking as dimples appeared. Jungkook wondered why the sight made him feel like smiling too. 

“Who are you?” Jungkook asked as the boy drew closer. 

“Kim Namjoon,” the boy replied, holding out a dirty hand to shake. “I’m running away.”

Jungkook looked around the desert. He’d been running too, at least in his head. It might feel nice to be a beacon for once, especially for someone so friendly. So pretty . “I’m Jungkook. I’m… not running anywhere.”

“That sounds nice. Maybe I could join you?” 

Yeah. 

—

“They could be anywhere!” Seokjin’s voice seemed to echo off the trees, a screech louder than the birds above. Jungkook tried not to roll his eyes as Namjoon tried to calm him. 

“We’ll find them!”

“How on earth do you expect to find them?”

Namjoon pointed at Jungkook. “He’s the best tracker you’ve ever seen! Jungkookie will find them, I’m sure of it.” He looked proud, even through all his worry, and Jungkook tried not to grin too widely. 

“He’s a kid,” Seokjin argued, inspecting him closely with those large eyes. Jungkook used every ounce of self-control to not stick out his tongue, because that would only prove the man’s point. 

“They went that way,” Jungkook just pointed, and at Seokjin’s disbelief, he knelt down by a tree trunk. “The mud has foot tracks, going that way.” And he pointed at a broken branch that stuck up awkwardly in the distance. “And that broke recently, see how fresh it is?” 

“Where’d you find this kid, Namjoon-ah?” Seokjin sighed, but held out his hand for Jungkook to lead the way. “Some protogee?”

“His boyfriend,” Jungkook retorted quickly before Namjoon could open his mouth. Seokjin’s astounded face was worth any embarrassment Namjoon might feel. 

He was proud to be Namjoon’s boyfriend anyways. Seoul didn’t appreciate him enough, clearly. 

“You cradle robber,” Seokjin smirked as he followed Jungkook through the mud. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“He’s not that young,” Namjoon hissed back, cheeks red. 

Jungkook just smiled and led them further into the forest. 

Chapter Text

Taehyung couldn’t stop smiling. He knew it was annoying Yoongi - he knew completely , because even through a partial bond, Yoongi’s emotions were already so exposed. There was a mix of anger and fear and insecurity, and then settling down on top of that, annoyance . He was annoyed that they had bonded, and he was annoyed Taehyung was so damn happy about it. But how could he not be? 

“Let’s go.” 

Taehyung let himself be guided through the woods, his hand dangling so close to Yoongi’s where they remained connected by metal. A two-way connection, a physical manifestation of their soon-to-be two-way mental bond. It made him smile wider, and Yoongi huffed audibly. God, he was so annoyed. Taehyung hadn’t imagined his Guide having so much personality. The ones back at the Academy sure didn’t. 

“Are we going the right way?” He asked idly, fingers brushing over Yoongi’s soft skin. The hand twitched away, but there was nowhere it could escape, and their knuckles met again with each step. 

“Shut up.”

Taehyung shut up, but he didn’t stop smiling. 

—

Yoongi was annoyed. 

Taehyung wouldn’t stop touching his hand. Taehyung wouldn’t stop smiling. Taehyung wouldn’t stop taking long steps so that they were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, and no matter how Yoongi would stop or take sharp turns or rush forward to get away, Taehyung would manage to keep up. Taehyung wouldn’t stop feeling around the edges of their partially-formed bond, thoughts tickling against Yoongi’s subconscious like a curious child. Taehyung just wouldn’t STOP. 

And on top of that, all the trees looked the same. How far into the forest had they gone?

He could ask Taehyung to use his Sentinel powers to guide them out of the woods, but he didn’t trust the man. For all he knew, Taehyung would use the opportunity to drag them deeper into the forest, away from the few people Yoongi could trust to help. No, it was up to him to guide them home - and that would be the only guiding Yoongi would do, thank you very much. Was that a footprint in the mud over there? Yoongi turned sharply and Taehyung followed closely. 

“We could -” Taehyung started, but then he stopped. Yoongi jerked back when their handcuffed wrists went taut, because the Sentinel had not only stopped talking, but had stopped moving. When Yoongi turned back, Taehyung’s eyes were narrowed in the opposite direction, staring through the thick brush. 

It took a few moments for Yoongi to realize why, and the familiar light voice almost made him cry in relief. 

“Oh, there you are!” Seokjin sounded composed, but he looked nothing but, his pristine pants covered in mud, his hair in disarray, his cheeks pink from exertion. Yoongi gaped at him - it had been years, sure, but he had never seen his hyung look anything less than perfect. 

Jungkook looked a little too pleased. 

“How did you find us?” Taehyung said accusingly, trying to tug Yoongi back even as Yoongi tried to move forward. Their hands hung suspended in the air awkwardly, and everyone’s eyes fell towards the gleaming metal. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to be a Sentinel to be a good tracker,” he said haughtily. “And if you didn’t want to be found, maybe you should’ve paid more attention to your steps.” 

“I imagine he had other things he was focused on,” Seokjin said, stepping forward to inspect the handcuffs and ignoring Taehyung’s noise of warning. “What the hell is going on here?” 

“Take them off,” Yoongi said sharply, looking between Namjoon and Jungkook. “Cut them, cut off his hand, I don’t give a shit. We’re leaving.”

Taehyung looked upset. “You can’t leave, hyung, we’re bonded!” 

Seokjin glanced up in shock. “What?” 

Taehyung ignored him, taking a desperate step towards Yoongi and grabbing his free wrist when he tried to twist away. “Hyung, you bonded with me. If you leave, you’ll be hurt!” 

Yoongi didn’t care. His chest already ached from the bonding, the desperate desire to finish what he’d started simmering under his skin, but this pain was better than any alternative Taehyung could come up with. Especially when he said, “We need to go back to Seoul!”

Yoongi’s skin turned to ice. He shivered under Taehyung’s pleading gaze, but then Jungkook giggled high and sweet, and those dark piercing eyes turned away. “Whoops, guess you don’t know yet!” 

Everyone turned to look at him. Yoongi knew his dongsaeng well enough to see through that angelic smile, and felt his fear dissipate a little. He knew Taehyung could feel it, that little sliver of hope, and somehow that made it even stronger. “What don’t I know?”

“You seem to have four flat tires,” Namjoon said awkwardly. “The woods, er - you must’ve run over a rock.” 

“Four very sharp rocks,” Jungkook smiled. “What a coincidence!” 

Yoongi bit his lip to keep from smiling at Seokjin’s audible groan of annoyance and Taehyung’s shocked expression. “We’re what, about fifty miles from Seoul?” Jungkook asked Namjoon brightly. “Sounds like a long walk, and with no water…” 

“And the desert can be very cruel,” Namjoon finished, shrugging apologetically at Seokjin when the man squawked again. “Perhaps it’s best if you come with us.” Jungkook’s face fell at that, but Taehyung seemed to perk up a bit. 

“Lead the way!” He said - a bit too jovially for Yoongi’s taste, and he stared at the Sentinel suspiciously. Their fingers brushed again and Yoongi dodged Taehyung’s searching fingers as they turned to follow Jungkook out of the trees. Seokjin brought up the rear, and Yoongi heard the whispers exchanged between him and Taehyung unwillingly. 

“You zoned again? Tae, you know how dangerous that is.” 

“It’s fine, hyung,” Taehyung whispered back. “Hyung saved me. I knew he would.” 

Yoongi avoided Seokjin’s searching gaze, but he could feel the weight of it as the trees grew more sparse and the ground grew more even. Through the clearing of leaves, he could see the cabin and Jungkook’s car, the government car a few paces past and obviously sinking closer to the ground. He’d been so close to freedom, but had given it up so easily to save a stranger. Not his first mistake, likely not his last - but this was surely the biggest mistake Yoongi had ever made, and the weight of his decision hung heavily next to him. 

“Where are we going?” Seokjin asked, smiling as Namjoon held open the passenger door. Jungkook glared at them, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout that would’ve made Yoongi chuckle if things weren’t so dire. 

“Home,” Namjoon said simply, and Yoongi allowed himself to be dragged up into the backseat, Taehyung squeezing in next to him until almost every inch of their skin was touching. 

They had already made their way down to the base of the mountain when Yoongi groaned. “You forgot to get the key!” he hissed, tugging his shackled wrist until the chains clinked audibly. 

Taehyung smiled innocently. “Whoops!”

Chapter Text

Seokjin is good with people. He’s learned how to read them, how to placate them, how to distract them. He didn’t particularly enjoy having this skill, he kind of hates having to socialize and put on fake niceties, but it has its uses. But, as Seokjin keeps up a strange one-sided conversation with himself for three hours, perhaps this situation is one where he should’ve just kept quiet. 

“The Academy cars are much more spacious,” he complained, shifting in the backseat and jostling Yoongi, who had ended up in the middle. Namjoon had graciously offered him shotgun, but then Jungkook had ungraciously told him to sit in the back, because he needed a navigator. Had the man uttered one direction in the past three hours? No, but at least the back of his head was nice to look at. 

“Then go back to the Academy,” Jungkook said shortly. Their eyes met through the rearview mirror, and Seokjin just smiled sweetly. The boy was too young to hide his emotions, eyes narrowing and pout forming, his eyes flashing over towards Namjoon to see if he was paying attention to the backseat.

(He wasn’t. Namjoon was very much a passenger princess who enjoyed looking out the window and pointing out interesting-looking trees, and had very little sense of just how tense the backseat was.)

“I can’t, someone slashed our tires,” Seokjin replied. “A little coincidence that seems less and less like a coincidence.” Jungkook had the decency to blush a little, his cheeks puffing up even further as he chewed on his bottom lip. He was cute, Seokjin thought idly, if not a little dramatic. A boy with a crush on a man, but who wouldn’t be head over heels for Kim Namjoon? Seokjin turned his sights back on Namjoon’s head, following the line of short, dark hair and the sliver of skin above his collar. So tan, so pretty, so masculine. 

“Stop looking,” Jungkook snapped, and Seokjin startled, looking back towards the rearview mirror and Jungkook’s dark narrowed eyes. 

“Do you see that tree?” Namjoon said suddenly, rolling down his window to point at a scraggly set of branches. “We planted it last year, it’s growing so well!” 

Seokjin and Jungkook both praised the tree copiously, trying to outdo the other in compliments and shooting daggers through the rearview mirror while Namjoon basked in the flattery. 

—

Taehyung had not given up trying to hold Yoongi’s hand. He was trying so hard not to focus on only one sense, so instead his mind began a dance of cataloging each length of his short nails, the number of lines on his finger joints, the veins that drew squiggles up his hand. Yoongi’s skin was mostly soft, but Taehyung committed the dry patches near his knuckles to memory, so that he could devote special attention to massaging lotion into them until his Guide’s hands felt like velvet. 

He wanted to know how it felt to have their fingers intertwined, tanned skin against pale, encasing Yoongi’s cold hand in endless warmth. But for now, he could be happy just looking. 

Yoongi was trying very hard to ignore him. Taehyung could feel it through their partial bond, a sort of mesh barrier between them where he could understand each of Yoongi’s emotions but there was no sending his own back. A completed bond would have their souls working in tandem - instead of receiving and analyzing Yoongi’s every feeling, Taehyung would be so entwined in Yoongi completely that there would be no beginning or end. They would be two halves stitched back together so thoroughly the thread would be invisible. 

It was so tempting to complete the bond. Taehyung could feel it thrumming through his veins, an itch he could not scratch. Or rather, he could scratch it, at the risk of making his Guide hate him unequivocally. 

Good things take time, isn’t that what everyone said? Taehyung curled his own hand into a loose fist on his knee, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Yoongi relax his own fingers. One day, Yoongi wouldn’t see him as a threat. 

Taehyung had patience, all the best Sentinels did. 

—

Yoongi was normally very perceptive. On any other day, he’d be watching the back-and-forth between Jungkook and Seokjin with amusement. He’d wait for Namjoon to finally notice that he was suddenly the sole trophy of a strange tournament, and he’d enjoy the long car ride back towards their home with a sense of peace. He’d be looking forward to reheating some leftovers and kicking his feet up on the couch, and he’d feel safe and completely independent. 

That was not possible today, because the thing he feared the most had finally happened. 

Taehyung had his eyes closed, his head resting on his free palm to keep his head from hitting the window with each bump. He’d seemed to fall asleep twenty minutes earlier - Yoongi couldn’t be sure, because the half-completed bond between them meant Taehyung got everything from him but Yoongi would be left guessing until it was finished. 

Which would never happen, if Yoongi had his way. He was counting down the minutes until he got home, because Hoseok would help him sever it. 

For now, though, Yoongi allowed his eyes to wander over Taehyung’s beautiful face. He looked so much younger with his eyes closed, like his assuredness was aging him. His hair curled over his ears and down the slope of his neck. His jawline was sharp, and Yoongi clenched his own jaw in responsive jealousy. As far as Sentinels went, he didn’t have that burly strength they all adored. They were already mentally more powerful, but that was never enough for Academy Sentinels, so they spent hours in the gym to bulk up and overpower physically too. 

“You’re staring,” Seokjin whispered. Yoongi couldn’t help but jump slightly, turning to face his hyung as his heart raced. Seokjin had the faintest hint of a smile, but he also looked concerned. “He’ll feel everything, even if he’s pretending to sleep,” he continued. “You used to be better at hiding, Yoongi-chi.” 

Yoongi frowned. “Freedom will do that to you,” he mumbled back, turning his back to Taehyung. The weight holding their wrists together felt heavier this way. 

—

Jungkook couldn’t decide if he hated Taehyung or Seokjin more. On principle, it should’ve been Taehyung, the condescending, controlling, churlish Sentinel from the capital, who wanted to steal poor, defenseless Yoongi away. 

Except Taehyung wasn’t condescending or controlling or churlish. He was kind of nice, almost excited to meet them all, and he smiled a lot. He definitely seemed to be obsessed with Yoongi in that stereotypical Sentinel way, but Jungkook quietly thought he seemed friendly. 

Seokjin, on the other hand…

Boys from Seoul were always so perfect, Jungkook thought darkly as Seokjin talked to Namjoon about some library at the Academy. Seokjin was older, he’d told them all to address him as ‘hyung’ but Jungkook would die before he got friendly with his enemy, and he was handsome in a way Jungkook would never be. 

“You’re clutching the wheel a bit hard, baby,” Namjoon murmured, reaching over to pull one of Jungkook’s hands into his lap. “You alright?” His fingers had calluses on them, just like Jungkook’s fingers. And his clothes weren’t perfect, just like Jungkook’s. And his smile, the one where both dimples appeared, had been only for Jungkook for so many years now. He called Jungkook baby . 

Jungkook let his fingers go lax in Namjoon’s warm palm. “I’m fine,” he smiled. But he couldn’t help it - his eyes flickered back towards Seokjin in the rearview mirror. 

Seokjin was staring back at him. Smiling, always goddamn smiling, like this was the funniest thing in the world.

—

“We’re almost there!” Namjoon exclaimed as Jungkook pulled into the long driveway that led towards their complex. He glanced towards the three in the backseat, his smile faltering at the scene. Yoongi’s expression was impassive, his head stubbornly turned away from Taehyung. Meanwhile, Taehyung was arching his neck to try to get in Yoongi’s view, his eyes searching for any hint of visible emotion. Seokjin had fallen asleep with his neck lolling uncomfortably against the headrest, beautiful even with his mouth hung open and his button-up shirt mussed and wrinkled. 

Back at the Academy, Namjoon hadn’t really known Seokjin very well. They’d met a few times, but Seokjin was intimidating and though Namjoon was rarely scared, well… he wasn’t perfect. Seokjin seemed untouchable, but now he was in the backseat waking up, his long, crooked fingers massaging the back of his neck. 

When Namjoon turned back around, Jungkook’s jaw was tight. “Alright, baby?” Namjoon asked, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s long hair until his features softened out. “It’s been a long day, you did so good.” 

He blushed easily at Namjoon’s praise and let his cheek be cradled for a moment before turning on his headlights. “You too, hyung,” Jungkook said shyly, and his eyes flickered up towards the mirror for a moment before turning on Namjoon. “Think Hoseok-hyung is home yet?”

Namjoon looked towards the complex and squinted. In the distance, two figures stood near the door, and as they approached he made out Hoseok’s familiar lithe figure. But he was standing next to…

“Jimin?” Yoongi sat up quickly, his hands flying towards the two front seats to pull himself closer to the window. Namjoon smiled in relief - their plan had worked, Jimin was safe.

Chapter Text

“Hyung?” 

Yoongi sat against the wall and stared at the door. His insides felt like they were crawling, little creatures made up of Taehyung’s emotions trying to cut their way through his stomach and his heart. Around his wrist, the broken handcuff dangled over his knees. Yoongi hated how much it made him feel like he was floating away. 

Jimin had already tried knocking once before, but Yoongi was ignoring him. Ignoring everyone . There had been a moment when the car pulled up to their home where Yoongi had felt safe. This was his territory, his friends would protect him, Jimin had made it out. But then he saw Hoseok’s hand around Jimin’s shoulder, and he felt the weight of Taehyung against him. 

He’d barely looked at Jimin before dragging Taehyung through the heavy doors. “Where the fuck are some pliers?” 

And now he sat in his room, door locked and lights off. But even here, alone and safe, he was shaking. 

“Hyung, please open the door.” 

Yoongi ignored him, and eventually Jimin’s footsteps receded down the hall. 

—

“What happens when you bond?” 

Yoongi turned to look at his classmate, a young girl with red cheeks and terrified eyes. He was glad someone asked. The books they had been given skirted over the whole affair, and everyone whispered about it when they took walks along the wall that separated them from Sentinels. 

“You join with your Sentinel,” the professor said vaguely. He turned the page, seemingly eager to move past the topic, but another boy shot his hand in the air. “Yes?”

“But can you explain what it feels like?” 

“No, I’m not a Guide.” The professors in these introductory classes usually weren’t. 

“So how are we supposed to know when it happens?” Someone else asked timidly. The professor sighed, his fingers digging into his temples. Yoongi imagined for a moment teaching a group of annoying teenagers, and felt the slightest bit of sympathy.

( But then he remembered that this man got to go home each night to his family, and suddenly didn’t feel so bad. )

“There are only two important things to remember,” the professor finally said. “One, when you find your Sentinel, you will know immediately. And two, an unfinished bond will be extremely painful.” 

Yoongi stared down at his fingers to avoid looking at his classmates, too afraid of his fear being evident. Why would anyone have an unfinished bond? 

—

Four years later, Yoongi approached Hoseok in the kitchen common area. “Hey,” he mumbled, trying to look uninterested in anything but pouring another cup of coffee. Hoseok saw right through him, as usual. But he let Yoongi speak at his own comforting pace, as usual. 

“Hey hyung, how are you doing?” 

Yoongi stayed silent, and Hoseok took a seat at the coffee table. After a moment of silence, Yoongi cleared his throat. 

“Have you ever seen anyone bond?”

Hoseok nodded slowly. “We used to have a couple that lived here, they took off for Japan in hopes of finding a larger community. A Sentinel and Guide. Mina was the Guide, and her abilities presented pretty late, I think she was almost twenty. Anyways, we were living here already and our community was pretty adamant against Sentinels.”

Yoongi nodded - he knew this story. Hoseok’s family was part of a group of outsiders, born and raised far from Seoul and not large enough for the Government to pay attention to. At least that’s what they thought, until Seoul Sentinels stormed their unguarded town, searching and seizing Guides who had been living in peace. 

These were the stories that Yoongi had grown up hearing about from the other side. Inside Seoul, everyone worried about those outside communities who had refused to conform when the Government took complete control. Who wouldn’t want peace and security? The outsiders could only be stupid or rebellious. 

But Hoseok’s family had been farmers, and they didn’t want city life. And their community had turned down offers of protection in exchange for their own definition of peace. It wasn’t until the Government started seeing a decrease in Guides that they began looking outside their fortified walls. 

“Anyways, her presentation somehow sparked Joohyun to present, he was a teenager. I was barely ten years old, but I remember seeing it happen. He got all overloaded by his senses, was kind of freaking out, and Mina just walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.” Hoseok shrugged. “He calmed down immediately. There were no sparks, no waterworks or anything. Just two people finding each other and bonding.”

Yoongi frowned. “It seems too easy.” He thought back to the countless Sentinels he’d stood in front of, waiting for something to happen. 

“It is for fated pairs,” Hoseok smiled. “For the rest of us, it’s a bit of an uphill battle.” 

“And what if they were to try to break the bond?” Yoongi asked, eyes on his cup of coffee. He watched the soft ripples settle, and then picked it up again just to disrupt them. 

“It’s possible,” Hoseok mused. “I’ve never seen it, but I’ve read books. It’s easier if the bond isn’t completely settled, like if one side is fighting against it.” 

“It hurts?”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment. “Apparently. Hurts most for the Sentinel, it says. Guides can survive without their match, but Sentinels…” he looked nervous for a moment. “They lose their minds when it happens.” 

Yoongi tried his best not to reach out and comfort Hoseok. They were friends, sure, but Yoongi couldn’t stand the idea of using his powers to help a Sentinel, even now. After a stretch of silence, he cleared his throat. “Can I see those books?” 

—

Yoongi fought his hunger, but now he was losing. It had been over a day, he knew because Jungkook had knocked earlier and tried desperately to get him to come down for breakfast. But even his youngest friend could not persuade him to face reality, and Jungkook had disappeared to come back a few hours later to announce lunch, and then finally dinner. 

That had been a while ago. Everyone should be asleep by now, right?

Yoongi stood up, wincing as his knees cracked and tingles shot up his limbs. The door unlocked with a booming click , and Yoongi held his breath as it swung open. Just one trip to the kitchen, one loaf of bread and some water and then he’d be back -

In the darkness of the hallway, a shape took form. Taehyung was lying down on the floor, his fingers cushioning his face and his eyes closed. Someone had draped a blanket over him, and Yoongi had the desperate urge to rip it off. Instead, he froze. 

It was too late though, the sound had roused the Sentinel. “Hyung?” Taehyung asked sleepily, eyes cracking open for a moment of confused awakening before he was springing to his feet. “Hyung!” 

“No.” Yoongi slammed the door before Taehyung could get his feet under him, and his hands shook as he locked the door. His stomach suddenly felt like acid. He could feel Taehyung’s desperation, and wished that the door could block out feelings too. 

Chapter Text

Taehyung caught himself staring again . The walls were blank slates, nothing interesting to focus on, so the door was his only option. He had first cataloged each color of wood, then found each unique grain pattern, then spent a good twenty minutes wondering about the scent of wood, and how much of it was Yoongi’s thinly-marked human scent, and then he suddenly felt a presence next to him. All of these senses and he couldn’t realize that Seokjin had slumped down against the wall too. 

“Stop whatever it is you’re doing,” Seokjin sighed, taking Taehyung’s palm and loosening his clenched fist. “You’re going to zone again.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung responded, but he didn’t think Seokjin was right. Teetering near the edge of a zone felt different now, like he was making a choice to jump off the ledge - maybe because he knew that Yoongi could catch him. “What’s up?”

“Have you eaten?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “I’ll eat when Yoongi-hyung eats.” And I’ll taste what he eats, and smell what he eats, and hear every crunch and every satisfied little sound. Seokjin snapped his fingers. “What?”

“You’re going to zone,” Seokjin hissed. “Just because he can save you doesn’t mean he will.”

Taehyung shrugged, feeling guilt and pride war inside him. “I think he would.” 

“You’re an idiot, then, putting your life in false hope.” 

“I’m putting my faith in Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung said determinedly. Behind that door, he could feel his hyung breathing soundly - he’d fallen asleep about thirty minutes ago, and all of his emotions had gone dormant too. It was relaxing in its own way, even though Taehyung preferred when his Guide was awake and feeling so strongly. It was nice to not taste fear and loathing. Seokjin sighed heavily again, and kept hold of his palm to keep Taehyung from curling his fingers into a fist again. His skin was already littered with crescent moon marks. 

—

The classroom was bustling today, and it took Taehyung a minute to realize why. Jaesung had returned and was surrounded by his classmates, a smug grin on his handsome face. Taehyung made his way into the circle warily. “It feels incredible ,” Jaesung said loudly, and his classmates grumbled in jealousy.

“How’d it feel to bond?” One girl asked, twisting her hair between her fingers as she stared longingly into the distance. 

“Strange,” Jaesung said. “Seohyun-ah touched my hand and closed her eyes, and then bam , it was like I could feel everything so much more clearly!” He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, eyes twinkling as everyone leaned forward. “And now it’s like my powers are magnified if she’s around, and I have no fear about zoning. I can hear everything so much better, they’re already talking about sending us to sea.” 

“Why?”

Jaesung rolled his eyes at the boy sitting beside him. “To listen for enemy ships, duh. ”

“How is Seohyun-noona feeling?” Taehyung asked curiously. Jaesung groaned dramatically and the class laughed together. “What?”

“She’s fine, who cares?” Jaesung scoffed. “She’s got a purpose now, and it’s not like her job is hard. She’s just gotta hold my hand or whatever when I’m using my senses, or pull me back from the ledge if I feel like zoning.”

“So she’s not feeling more powerful too?” Taehyung pressed. Everyone looked uncomfortable at the question, but Jaesung just stared at him with an unimpressed gaze. 

“Who cares?” He finally repeated. “Seohyun is a Guide, she’s not supposed to be powerful. What would be the point of that? She’s there for a purpose, and that purpose is me. ”

Taehyung held his gaze, annoyance crashing through him that would’ve felt so obvious to even the least powerful Guide. Jaesung didn’t even call her ‘noona’, even though she was two years older than them. She had a younger sister who had just entered the Academy as a Guide too, and everyone who paid attention knew that Seohyun was terrified of being taken away from her. 

But there was no use arguing. Jaesung was like every other Sentinel, convinced beyond reproach that their lives held more importance than any other. “Whatever,” Taehyung sighed, pushing his chair away so hard it squeaked on the wood floor. “Good luck with all that.”

“Jealousy isn't a good look,” Jaesung cooed, and the class laughed. Their professor shushed them and they eventually settled down, but Taehyung felt his anger vibrating through him. Or was it truly jealousy? No, he could never be jealous of someone so small-minded. 

By the time class ended, Taehyung had calmed down a little. He pushed his books into his bag and waited until Jaesung left with his group of admirers. The professor approached his desk with a timid smile. “Don’t listen to them, Taehyung-ah.” 

Taehyung glanced up curiously. “They won’t be as powerful if they don’t respect their Guides,” the professor continued. “You’ve got a good heart, and while they don’t advertise it well here, that’ll be an asset. Kindness like yours can’t be learned, so they decide not to teach it.” He shrugged and closed the flap of his bag. “Power isn’t about control, not this kind anyways.” 

Taehyung nodded weakly and the professor tapped his desk before walking away. “I hope you find your Guide soon,” he called out, and then the door shut behind him, leaving Taehyung in confused silence.

—

“I can try to talk to him,” Seokjin said after a while. Taehyung jolted at the break in silence - he’d been staring at the dust particles that were building up near the frame of the door, wondering if there was a broom nearby he could use to get rid of it. Focusing on anything but the absence of emotions in his chest was the only way to cope, and Seokjin had to repeat his offer when Taehyung finally glanced up. 

“I don’t know, hyung…” 

“Just let me try, Taehyungie. It’s not like you’re getting anywhere guarding his door like some silly watchdog.” He received a glare for that, but Seokjin only looked amused. “He needs space.”

Taehyung pouted. “But…”

“Ah, no arguing with hyung!” 

The standoff lasted a minute, and then Taehyung sighed. “Fine.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening intently for any movement behind the closed door, and jumped when Seokjin snapped his fingers right by his ear. “What?”

“He needs space. ” Seokjin gestured towards the door. “ Physical space .” 

“Oh.” Taehyung got up slowly, still listening for any sounds, but there were none. “Fine.” 

Seokjin waited for him to round the corner and for the footsteps to quiet, and then turned back to the door. It had cracked open, and Yoongi was looking at him sullenly. 

Time for hyung to fix this. Seokjin smiled widely and stood up, brushing off the dust from his borrowed sweatpants (Namjoon’s, it had made Jungkook very angry, and that had made Seokjin surprisingly happy). “Yoongi-chi, lovely to see you alive, now let’s talk.” 

Chapter Text

Yoongi watched Seokjin get comfortable in his room - a hard task, apparently, because he sat gingerly over Yoongi’s dirty sheets and lumpy mattress with a look of disgust. “You need to wash your sheets. And maybe change your clothes.” 

Yoongi ignored him. Talking took too much energy. Seokjin sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling. “You could do much worse than him, you know.” 

“I could do much better too,” Yoongi scoffed. He waited for Seokjin to laugh or mock him, or maybe even agree with him and offer to help him escape, or -

“Eh, not really. He was the oddball of the Academy Sentinels,” Seokjin said, looking all nonchalant except for the spark in his eye that made Yoongi tense up. “He always made a point to be nice to Guides, even when they were trying to bond him to everyone under the sun.” He paused. “And he’s a great kisser.” 

“What.”

Seokjin smiled knowingly. 

—

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Seokjin asked when Minhee set down her binder and took a seat across from him. She scowled and opened it roughly. Always so angry, always so frustrated. Seokjin felt her emotions in the same way a cat would - not his business, so no need to care. 

“A bonding attempt at 2pm,” she said, circling a name in bright red marker. Seokjin didn’t bother to look. He never had cared much, but after three years of being placed in front of Sentinels and feeling less than nothing, he had little interest in bonding attempts. “He’s full of potential, but they haven’t found his match yet.” She peered at him over large-rimmed glasses, a storm brewing in her irises. “You won’t be a match, I’m sure. You’re -”

“Useless,” Seokjin smiled merrily, and Minhee scowled further. She was neither a Guide nor a Sentinel, and she seemed to hate this fact more than anything. Seokjin didn’t even try to read her emotions, because he read them on her face. As one of the Guide-Sentinel matchmakers, she detested him and his apparent inability to benefit society.

“We’ll see,” she said, and then gave him a room number. Seokjin finished his tea and made his way to the room, because even if he didn’t care, he didn’t want to be labeled tardy. 

An hour later, the door opened. Seokjin watched Minhee lead a younger boy into the room, his shaggy brown hair casting dark shadows over his eyes. But there was not the same dark, aggressive energy he normally found exuding from Sentinels, and Seokjin felt a curiosity he’d long since forgotten as he stared at the boy. “This is Taehyung,” Minhee said, all proud now that she was in the presence of someone the Academy deemed a success. “He’s unbonded, and it’s very important for him to find his match soon.” 

She eyed Seokjin with disappointment. I hope it’s not me either, he thought wryly as she left the room. The door shut with a sound of finality and Taehyung finally looked up at him. “It’s not you,” he said apologetically, and Seokjin was surprised at how deep his voice was. “Sorry, but I think I’d know right away.”

Seokjin smiled brightly. “Aish, well you can hold my hand anyways.” 

Taehyung looked surprised for a moment, and then he grinned wide and beautiful. 

—

They didn’t try to force a bond for Taehyung, he was adamantly against it. But he was getting older, and they wanted to use his strength even at half-mast, so they asked which Guide he’d felt most comfortable with to act as a temporary. Seokjin hid his surprise well when they knocked on his door a few weeks after their initial meeting, and Taehyung stood there wringing his hands sheepishly. 

“Hi again,” Seokjin smiled and invited him in. And so began the greatest love affair within the Academy walls…

At least that’s what they told everyone. 

—

“Do you think a bond ever grows naturally over time?” Taehyung asked one night. Seokjin made a muffled noise of confusion, and he peeked out from beneath the sheet. It was the messiest he’d ever looked, Taehyung thought fondly, his hyung’s lips red and slick, his eyes watering, his hair mussed beyond repair. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” Seokjin croaked, voice raspy as he gazed up Taehyung’s bare chest. “Am I not working hard enough? You should be so fucked out you should be unable to think a coherent thought, you little brat.” 

“Sorry,” Taehyung said sheepishly, brushing off a flick of spit from Seokjin’s cheek. “Just… wondering if you think it’s possible.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but Seokjin’s gaze softened visibly. “I don’t mean anything -”

“Aish, yes you do,” Seokjin sighed, and he scooted up so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Taehyung immediately regretted saying anything. “What is going on in that wild head of yours?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung sighed, leaning his head on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Just wish this was something else. I think we could be, you know. I’m willing to try.” He was scared to look up and see Seokjin’s disappointment or worse, unwillingness. 

“Taehyungie, look at me.” When Taehyung kept his head firmly down, crooked fingers reached down to grasp his chin and forced his gaze up. Seokjin looked… well, not disappointed or unwilling, just fond. And a little sad. “You’re a hopeless romantic, Kim Taehyung, and I know you well enough to know that this relationship we have is not what you want. No, don’t interrupt hyung.” A finger fell over his lips. “You’re one of those annoying Sentinels who will only give their heart completely to their match, their perfect Guide.” Seokjin sighed and let his fingers fall, only to lace together with Taehyung’s hand on the bedsheets. 

“It’s admirable, you know,” Seokjin continued. “It makes you a better person, even if it feels lonely now. And when you find your Guide, you’ll be happy you waited. And I’ll be happy too, because I won’t have to deal with your pouting all alone.”

“You like my pouting,” Taehyung pouted. Seokjin laughed into his shoulder. 

“Aish, I put up with your pouting because you fuck me so well, silly Sentinel.” He lifted the covers and slid his hips over Taehyung’s. “Now time for this beautiful little head to forget everything and take care of hyung.” 

—

Yoongi tried to pretend Seokjin’s confession about his relationship with Taehyung had absolutely no effect on him. But his traitorous brain could not stop thinking about it, picturing it, and the feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach was fucking jealousy . It was completely unfounded, and Yoongi tried to argue with himself - he knew nothing of this cocky ( sweet ) Sentinel, he couldn’t risk bonding with this terrifying ( gentle ) warrior, he didn’t even think Taehyung was attractive ( god, he was though ). 

“What?” He asked Seokjin icily when his hyung just stared at him with a knowing smile. 

“Nothing,” Seokjin sang, picking at the bedsheets. Yoongi turned away from him, left to stew in his own emotions. Why did Taehyung have to be so fucking pretty? And why was Seokjin trying so hard to convince him the Sentinel was nice? 

He was so engrossed in his thoughts he almost missed the tentative poke at his subconscious. But no, there it was again, and Yoongi realized with horror that Taehyung was experiencing his change in emotions too, that he had an open door to Yoongi’s subconscious and was knocking quietly to alert him. 

Yoongi quickly shut that door, his mind turning blank with such ferocity that he was sure Taehyung experienced whiplash. There was silence for a moment, and then he felt a melodic sort of knock against his emotions. An apology, maybe, or just a general acknowledgement. It reminded Yoongi of an old childhood song, sweet and young and innocent. 

He tried to hide his smile, but Seokjin seemed to have already moved on. “It’s not important,” his hyung began, and Yoongi was surprised to see him biting his lip. “But what’s the story between Jungkook and Namjoonie?”

Chapter Text

Hoseok glanced up when Jimin peeked into his bedroom. “Can I come in?” 

Hoseok had told him he didn’t need to ask, but he nodded anyways and pulled back the covers of his bed. Jimin’s footsteps were soft over the hardwood floor, but Hoseok thought it was less due to his fuzzy socks and more due to Jimin’s propensity to appear smaller than others. And he was too thin, Hoseok would have to fix that. His protective urges had never reared its ugly head so violently before. He tried to tamper it down as Jimin slipped beneath the comforter, but he knew his Guide felt it. 

“Did you eat dinner?” Hoseok asked, because he just had to know. Jimin nodded, and Hoseok knew instantly it hadn’t been enough. “You can eat as much as you want, you know. We aren’t lacking those resources. I can go get you a snack, hold on -”

“No, please stay!” Jimin grabbed Hoseok’s bicep before he could jump out of bed, and the skin contact felt like a flame in the cold night. “I promise I’ll eat more tomorrow, I am just not used to feeling hungry.” He seemed small beneath the covers, and Hoseok’s heart broke for his Guide. “I’m not used to feeling much, to be honest.” 

How could a heart break so many times? Hoseok tried to smile when Jimin turned his gaze on him, all bright eyes beneath dark hair, a plush mouth that seemed unused to smiling as wide as Hoseok did. “I know it won’t be an easy adjustment, but I’m here to help,” he said uselessly. 

“I know,” Jimin replied, and Hoseok realized with a start how close their faces were. He could inch just a little closer and - 

Jimin’s eyes flickered down, and Hoseok remembered for the thousandth time that they were connected now, their minds and bodies and souls intertwined in a way that meant every lustful, untoward thing Hoseok thought would be felt by his Guide. He flushed and pulled back, but Jimin followed, his weight held up on thin arms until he was looming over Hoseok’s chest. “Hoseok-ssi, I -”

“Call me hyung,” Hoseok squeaked, and then swallowed hard when Jimin smiled. It was in that moment that Hoseok remembered (for the thousandth-and-one time) that they were connected, and Jimin was sending back emotions of apprehensive desire, a perfect mirror of Hoseok’s need to be closer and closer and closer until… 

Jimin kissed him first, a brush of chapped lips and hitched breath and knocked chins. Hoseok waited for a moment, but when he felt a tremor of panic from his Guide, an unsurety that threatened the sanctity of the moment, Hoseok reached up to drag Jimin back down. Jimin followed his lead perfectly, tilting his head to fit against Hoseok and opening his mouth.

Hoseok had kissed boys and girls before, had fallen into beds of friends and lovers, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this intensity. Jimin blossomed like a flower under Hoseok’s attention, and it was tempting to break him apart so that Hoseok could slip himself between the pieces. Jimin was so fragile though, and Hoseok’s hands felt sharp hip bones and fingers fit over protruding ribs. 

Pulling back, Hoseok gazed down at his Guide. Jimin’s eyes were teary, his plush lips bruised. “Hyung,” he whimpered, trying to lift himself up to continue. Hoseok pressed his lips against Jimin’s flushed forehead. 

“There’s no need to rush, baby,” Hoseok said softly. “We’ve got forever.” 

“Forever,” Jimin repeated, letting himself be soothed until they were lying together. He fell asleep quickly, his brow furrowed. Hoseok rubbed his thumb over the lines gently until they disappeared. 

—

Hoseok felt something pull him from sleep, tugging at his chest like an anchor stuck on heavy mud. It was painful, and his senses were awash with confusion as he sat up, brushing sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He realized after a moment that his bed wasn’t empty, and it took another moment to remember why. 

Next to him, Jimin’s hands curled into his chest, his knees pulled up towards his stomach. It was a defensive position, and Hoseok felt intense guilt until he realized his Guide was fast asleep. His brow had furrowed again and his nose twitched against the pillow. His chest was heaving, and Hoseok felt the reason for the tugging sensation - Jimin was having a nightmare. 

“Jimin-ah?” he whispered, running a hand tentatively over his closed eyes. “Can you wake up for me?” 

It was the strangest sensation, one Hoseok had never felt before when he had connected with a Guide. Most of the time, it felt like shaking hands with thick gloves on - Hoseok could feel a temporary sensation with another Guide, but it was muted and covered by layers of material. With Jimin, it felt like Hoseok could feel each indentation of his fingers, maybe even count the rings on his fingerprints. Jimin was so exposed to him, and Hoseok felt invasive as flashes of Jimin’s nightmare hit him.

Dark rooms. Silent guards. Emotions from strangers like a constant attack. Sentinels eager to take. 

As a Sentinel, Hoseok lived an arms-length from strong emotions. His power lied with physical senses, his eyesight and his hearing and his touch magnified, but his own emotions were never this strong. Feeling Jimin’s emotions felt like getting hit by a wave, one that had been constantly battering against a wall, begging for it to break. 

“Oh Jimin,” Hoseok sighed, shifting until the smaller man was resting on his shoulder, breath coming in short puffs against his skin. “Come on, baby. Give me all your nightmares, I can handle them.” 

Hoseok felt the fear and anxiousness seep into him, but with every flash of nightmarish memory, Jimin relaxed against him. His breathing evened out and his brow unfurrowed. He looked like an angel. Hoseok smiled as a small hand unclenched, reaching out to wrap around Hoseok’s waist and cling to his sleep shirt. 

His little angel, safe and sound. 

—

Hoseok’s first sense that came online was his hearing. He was sitting in the commune’s living room, once the lobby of a city hall building that had been converted when people abandoned small towns for the safety of Seoul, staring out the window. He felt like an ant caught in the bright, dangerous rays of sunlight, but instead of burning to death, Hoseok just felt sleepy. His family had always worked hard, but now that their community was cut from the government’s resources, they barely slept. They worked around the clock to gather whatever food they could, siphoned gas from nearby stations and raided the shelves for stable cans of food. 

Hoseok was currently in charge of alerting the town if government agency cars appeared on the hill that overlooked their valley. His vantage point at the city hall building was the perfect spot to not only see the glimmer of their cars appear, but he could also press the alarm button that rang through the small buildings clustered at the center of town, the government ones they had commandeered. 

It was illegal, apparently, for those who chose to remain to use the abandoned government buildings. If the ‘rebels’ wanted their independence, then they couldn’t use anything Seoul had provided, even if the shells had been left to rot. Anyone caught ‘loitering’ would be imprisoned and brought back to Seoul. 

Hoseok thought the Government was full of shit, and the rest of the town agreed. But the government buildings were the most maintained, had the best locks and double-paned windows and generators and a walk-in fridge, so there was no point letting it go to waste. 

Best to keep an eye out, though, and that was Hoseok’s job for the day. 

He was frustrated to be stuck at home, especially when his parents were hard at work foraging or keeping the farms running. Hoseok argued with his mother every day - he was fifteen, he was entirely capable of taking over her responsibilities outside, and she could sit comfortably indoors watching a hill. He was the eldest of all the children left behind, he was practically an adult!

But ‘practically’ was not good enough, and Hoseok’s arguments got him nowhere. He pouted and stared out the window, his eyesight blurring in and out as his thoughts led him elsewhere. His skin felt like it was burning now, but he still didn’t move from his spotlight in the sun, the sensation making his skin prickle and keep him awake. 

In fact, it was starting to feel a little too warm, wasn’t it? And what was wrong with the seat, was the leather peeling beneath his knees? And - 

Hoseok’s head jerked up when he heard rumbling. It sounded both far away and right outside the window, an echo that rattled through Hoseok’s brain and made his teeth chatter. What was wrong? He clambered out of his seat, the legs catching in the rug and sending it sprawling backwards, and Hoseok flinched at the loud bang . What was going on? Was the world ending, was it an earthquake or a comet or the entirety of the Seoul Government pounding on their door, demanding their loyalty? Hoseok slapped his hands over his ears, fear scratching at his insides until he felt raw with it. 

Something was wrong, but outside things looked idyllic. Hoseok stared as his neighbor walked by, cucumbers stacked in her basket, moving slowly like nothing was wrong. She waved at Hoseok through the window, and then stopped, looking at him with concern. 

Hoseok stared at her, and then back at the hill. There was nothing, but when he tried to focus, he felt like the rumbling was coming from that direction. It sounded like a thousand troops moving in unison, and Hoseok scrambled for the button that would alert the town. His finger pressed down and the alarm sounded. 

Hoseok fell to his knees, his hands pressed tightly over his ears, but it was no use. Sound bled through his fingers and he felt like bells were going off in his mind. His neighbor’s hand fell over him, and Hoseok could hear her heartbeat beneath her frantic pleas for help. 

“Someone’s coming, I think,” he managed to shout, peering through his neighbors who had gathered to help. Hoseok felt like he could track the sunlight rays coming through the window, could see each point of light and where it cut through the glass, but beyond that, he could see the shimmer of gleaming black cars appearing at the top of the hill. The rumbling of their engines echoed again, and Hoseok felt crazy as he stared at them. 

He felt like they could see him too, but Hoseok was quicker than they were. The community rushed to cover their tracks, the locks placed back on the city hall door, and by the time the Seoul cars had spread through the town, Hoseok and his neighbors were hidden in their homes, safe from watchful eyes. 

Hoseok had always known about Sentinels, but they seemed like mythical figures, superheroes turned supervillains for his small community and their freedom. But learning that he was a Sentinel made him look at them differently. It was a choice - use his enhanced senses for good or evil. His mother looked at him that evening and said he should go to Seoul. His life would be better , he would be elite and taken care of, and have no struggles. 

But Hoseok hugged her and promised to keep them safe. He didn’t need to use his powers for a government that already had everything. He would use his powers to keep his home and all the residents safe .

—

Hoseok didn’t remember falling asleep. Part of him had been determined to stay awake all night, if only to protect his new Guide from the dangers of the world (and his mind). But biology had won out and he woke with a start hours later to fingers dancing over his brow, feather-light. “Good morning,” Hoseok rasped out as he opened his eyes. Jimin smiled at him, perched on his elbows and looking down. “Did you sleep well?”

Jimin nodded. “Thanks to you,” he whispered, a pretty-pink blush spreading across his cheeks. Hoseok was sure it was mirrored on his face too. “You have a nice aura, Hoseok-ssi.”

“Hyung,” Hoseok corrected. “What does that mean?” 

“You are a good person,” Jimin said. “I can tell.” He bit his lip, hard at thought, and Hoseok marveled at the way he could feel Jimin’s internal debate, the ebb and flow of his mind at work. “And it’s going to be hard to break this bond.” 

Hoseok’s blood turned to ice. “What do you mean?” He mumbled, sitting up so that he was facing Jimin directly. His hands twisted until he was grasping Jimin’s too-thin wrists, keeping him on the bed. “We’re not breaking anything.” 

No , that was too forceful, too possessive. If this was what Jimin wanted… Hoseok blinked rapidly, trying to keep himself from focusing on one sense too strongly, even as he heard his own blood rush beneath his veins to his heart. “Jimin, baby, please tell me what you mean.” 

Jimin’s eyebrows were furrowed, and Hoseok felt his Guide torn between emotions, his own uncertainty fighting against Hoseok’s fear. “We have to,” he said hesitantly, looking down at where Hoseok had locked his fingers. “Yoongi-hyung needs our help. He needs you to help sever his bond with Taehyung.” 

Hoseok couldn’t help it - relief washed through him, and he knew without a doubt that Jimin would feel it. “Oh baby,” he murmured, pulling Jimin closer until bony knees dug into his abdomen. “I know you want to help your friend, and I get it, he’s my friend too.” Now that Jimin was safe within his arms, he could let go of his wrists and wrap around that tiny waist. 

Everything felt right , even though things were going so wrong for the others. “I can’t do that,” Hoseok said into Jimin’s neck, tightening his arms when Jimin went to pull away. “Maybe I could’ve helped him before -”

“Before me,” Jimin said sadly, and it broke Hoseok’s heart. 

“I will never give this up,” Hoseok murmured. His thumb brushed beneath Jimin’s shirt, and the shock of warm skin made every nerve activate. “We’re bonded now, Jimin, and there’s nothing on this Earth that would make me break that.” 

Not Taehyung, not Yoongi, not the goddamn Government and all their Sentinels combined. Hoseok finally understood why people craved this, why Sentinels fought tooth-and-nail for their Guides, why a bond was so important. Jimin was so small in his arms, so breakable, and there were so many dangerous things in this world. Hoseok hadn’t been there to protect him from the horrors he’d faced in Seoul, but he was there now. 

“Yoongi-hyung is scared,” Jimin whispered, but he clung to Hoseok tighter. 

“He is,” Hoseok agreed. But, he thought, hoping that Jimin wouldn’t follow the trail of hesitant acceptance, perhaps he understands where Taehyung is coming from .