Chapter Text
It all started with a tattoo…
It had actually started much earlier, but the tattoo was the first sign that couldn't be waved away as wishful thinking.
The Bangtan boys were always careful about appearances. They had to be, with the way that idols were treated in the media—any little issue could snowball into a problem. If it looks good, it is good, and if it looks bad, it's a scandal, and the context doesn’t matter. They were trained in talking to the press, in taking care of their hair, in maintaining their physique for the regular torso flashing that came with being in a boy group.
That training included getting a good night's sleep before a photoshoot, to not inconvenience the makeup-noonas. That training included washing their faces every morning and night with a multi-step routine. That training did not include marking up group members arms with ink splotches that wouldn’t wipe away.
KNJ: Not cool, guys.
KTH: ?
PJM: ^
JJK: ^^
KSJ: Yes cool, bring a jacket
KNJ: We have a photoshoot today
KNJ: Who did this, and how do I get it off?
The groupchat filled with protestations of innocence, so Namjoon had no choice but to get dressed and hope it came off before the photoshoot, or at least could be covered by makeup.
Being the leader was stressful. He loved the other members, he really did, but they had just returned from their military service and it felt like everything was coming at him at once. As a soldier, he was given orders and he followed them. As the leader of BTS, he had to wrangle all his brothers as they got back in the swing of being a group. They were still finding their equilibrium—it wasn’t that they had grown apart, but they had certainly grown while apart.
They would be going on a world tour soon. Not to perform, not to stand on stages in foreign countries, but putting on a show nonetheless. Bon Voyage Season 5: Reunion Tour.
Or something to that effect. The title was apparently still in the works.
There was so much that needed to be done before they left… They needed to finish up a couple of singles to be released while they were away, several brands were wanting to talk about teaming up, and someone had mentioned something about taking this road trip as an opportunity to foster diplomatic ties with other countries, which Namjoon did not have the emotional bandwidth for.
“The car will be here soon!” He called as he exited his bedroom. At least he already knew Jungkook was up, he’d heard the maknae leave for the gym at some point… Jin was also up and more or less ready, calmly eating his bowl of stew. Jin nodded his head towards the stove and Namjoon saw that his hyung had made enough for everyone.
He sighed as he sat down next to his friend. It was so early and he was already so weary.
Both men ate in silence, and then watched in silence as Yoongi slowly shuffled towards the coffee maker. His hair was rumpled, there were pillowcase creases over his cheek, and his large sleep shirt was hanging off center on his shoulders. Yoongi blinked slowly as the machine whirred to life, the interval growing longer and his head dipping lower until he was standing with his chin against his chest.
Namjoon should wake him. Namjoon should pour him a cup of coffee.
Namjoon did neither of those things, instead watching Yoongi startle when the coffee maker beeped that it was ready. He had to get his kicks where he could. Yoongi grumbled and hitched his shirt back into place, and Namjoon absently watched his friend procure his first caffeine fix of the day. The first of many.
Except there was something odd about the picture. Something about Yoongi’s arm. The shadows made it look like…
“Yoongi.”
His friend turned, giving him a blank look, the classic ‘please let me be a stone in the next life’ look.
“What’s that on your arm?”
Yoongi’s brow furrowed as he parsed out Namjoon’s meaning. He shifted his arm, and in the light, there it was. Two smudged ink blots dripping down his arm.
Just like Namjoon’s.
If there was one thing that could be said about Cassandra Wynn, it was that she was tired. It was honestly more of a personality trait at this point. She didn’t know whether it was the depression, the underactive thyroid, or if she was just naturally Like That , but she couldn’t think of a time she hadn’t been at least a little bit ready to keel over and die to avoid the exhausting drudge of existence.
The customers didn’t help.
Can you order this in a different size for me?
No, it only comes in that size. And even if it didn’t, I do not have the ability at the store level to order things like that. We get sent shit and we put it out. That’s all.
Where is the restroom?
There is a large sign right over my left shoulder. How can you not see that? It’s visible from anywhere in the store.
That’s way too expensive!
You know, it’s kinda in the name. Custom Framing. It’s custom. It's going to be expensive.
And don’t even get her started on instacart shoppers expecting to be led around the store to find the items that they are being paid to pick out. Seriously, the store didn’t have enough staff for that.
It didn’t help that they were coming out of their busy season. Hours were getting cut and seasonal members were getting let go, and her best framer was starting college in another city and would be leaving her frame shop understaffed. Again. Plus they had gotten a new district manager with a bug up his ass about every little thing they were apparently doing wrong at a store level, and nothing made Cassandra want to quit more than a middle aged man coming into her domain and telling her that she couldn’t do her job right.
Hi, thanks, I’m trying, and also fuck you.
He had even suggested she pull all nighters to get ahead on orders before the end of the fiscal year so that the company could get its money, and she had only been able to share a stunned look with her store manager while his back was turned. Seriously? He thought they had the staff to pull the framing manager off of the day shift? Their best seller? Their only person with fully open availability?
For real???
She wanted him to work a day… Just a day… As an employee at the store level. Preferably a truck day. Just so he could see how ridiculous it is to expect that a replenishment team can get out all of the freight before the store opens. She wanted to watch him open a box of framing freight and try to tell her that their suppliers never made mistakes, that it must have been entered into the computer wrong.
She had received frames that were not even square… Why was the width on the bottom different than the width on the top?!?
Cassandra liked what she did. She liked her coworkers. But the customers could be tiring, and Corporate seemed to like adding weight to her already overburdened shoulders.
Her vacation couldn’t come soon enough.
So it turned out that they all had the same marking on their arm. Two little drooling blobs of color that started about an inch below the elbow and oozed down towards the wrist. One was a muddy shade of purple and the other was a grungy shade of aqua.
They all had the same marking. None of them would confess to being the culprit. None of them could wipe it off.
Jimin had to keep crushing down the hope that was sloshing in his chest. If it overflowed and he let it become real, only to find out it wasn’t, then it would break him…
But what if…?
Could it be that all of them shared a…
He couldn’t let himself entertain that solution. If he let that hope lift him up and buoy his spirits, the fall to earth would crush him.
But what if…