Chapter Text
The living room in L.A. was noisy with the usual end-of-day energy. Jimin carried in smoothies, Hobi tossed a foam roller at Jungkook, Namjoon scrolled through something on his tablet, and Yoongi’s face filled a little square on the screen from his studio back in Korea. Taehyung sat on the arm of the couch, phone angled just right, waiting.
When the video call connected, Jin appeared. His cheeks were flushed from stage lights, his hair slightly tousled, his voice still carrying the adrenaline of another concert night.
“Hyung!” Jungkook shouted first, nearly spilling his drink. “I saw clips already—you were amazing! I can’t wait until we see you in person.”
Jin laughed, eyes curving. “Thank you, golden maknae. I missed hearing you yell at me.”
Everyone chimed in—Hobi praising his stage energy, Jimin complimenting his steady vocals, Namjoon asking about his health, Yoongi giving a short but meaningful “Good job.” The conversation felt easy, like a warm current flowing across the distance.
Taehyung listened, smiling quietly. He didn’t need to talk much; just seeing Jin laugh and joke made his chest feel lighter. When Jin’s gaze lingered on him through the screen, Taehyung’s heart gave that familiar, painful twist of longing.
And then Jin said it—calm, like it was already settled. “I’ll go home to my parents first before flying to L.A.”
Jimin nodded right away, no surprise in his expression. “That’s good, hyung. They’ll be so happy to see you.”
“Yeah,” Hobi added with an easy smile. “Recharge with family first. Then we’ll welcome you here.”
Namjoon hummed in agreement. “It’s the best plan. We’ll manage things here until you come.”
Even Yoongi just leaned back in his chair, saying, “Makes sense.”
Everyone was calm, understanding—because they knew.
But Taehyung froze. His smile faltered for the first time since the call began. He blinked, confused, his lips parting but no words coming out. In his mind, Jin’s arrival in L.A. had already been written, replayed in a dozen small daydreams. Meeting him at the airport, the first hug, the sound of his laugh not flattened by a phone speaker. Now the picture wavered.
Jin noticed immediately. His voice softened just a little, though he didn’t single Tae out. “Don’t worry, I won’t take long. Just a few days. Then I’ll come to you.”
Taehyung nodded automatically, but his silence said more than he meant it to. Jimin shifted closer to him on the couch, gently bumping his shoulder, while Jungkook kept chattering to Jin about gym plans and late-night food trips, filling the silence.
Jin kept smiling, his eyes returning to Taehyung whenever he thought no one else would notice.
__________
The second evening without Jin’s call weighed heavier than Taehyung expected. He had thrown himself into gym sessions with Jungkook and Namjoon, photo editing late at night, even small shopping trips with Jimin and Hobi—but the hollow spot lingered.
They were all gathered in the living room, half-watching a movie with the volume too low. Jimin was curled in a blanket, Hobi sprawled on the floor with snacks, Namjoon flipping through his notes, Jungkook glued to his phone, and Yoongi half-present through the speaker of someone’s tablet.
Taehyung finally broke the quiet. His voice was soft at first, but strained at the edges.
“Why does it feel like I’m the only one missing Seokjin-hyung?”
Everyone looked at him. Namjoon set his papers aside, his tone steady but kind.
“We all miss him, Tae. Of course we do. But… it’s expected he’d go home first. His parents, his brother, and especially his nephew—he hasn’t seen them in so long.”
Taehyung blinked at him, unsettled. The words made sense, but they didn’t settle the ache in his chest.
Before he could answer, Yoongi’s voice floated from the tablet speaker, casual but firm.
“And Jungkook’s leaving soon too. He’ll stay with Jin for a few days before Jin flies here.”
The room went still for Taehyung. His body stiffened, breath catching. He turned toward Jungkook, who looked guilty but didn’t deny it.
“You’re—what?” Taehyung asked, the word slipping out sharper than he meant.
Jungkook shifted in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. “Hyung wanted some company, and I had a few free days. So I’ll go visit him. Just… for a bit.”
Taehyung stared, frozen in place. The others were so calm, so unbothered, as if this was the most natural plan in the world. But inside him, confusion spun into something heavier—like he had missed a conversation, like everyone knew the script except him.
“Why…” his voice cracked slightly, and he pressed his lips together before finishing. “Why is everyone acting like all of this is normal?”
No one answered right away. Namjoon’s brows pinched in thought, Jimin glanced at him with worry, Hobi looked like he wanted to reach out but held back, and even Yoongi’s silence stretched long on the other end of the line.
__________
It was late in L.A., the kind of quiet where the city’s noise sounded far away. Taehyung sat cross-legged on his bed, phone propped up on his knees, the glow of the screen painting his face soft. On the other end, Jin appeared relaxed at home, still slightly damp from a shower, casual shirt hanging loose on his shoulders. His smile, as always, was easy and bright.
“Taehyung-ah,” Jin greeted, voice warm. “You look tired. Did you spend all day at the gym again? Your arms look… mm, strong.” He teased, eyes curving with affection.
Taehyung’s lips twitched into a smile, but there was a heaviness under it. He leaned closer to the screen. “Hyung… is something wrong?”
Jin blinked, then laughed softly, shaking his head. “Wrong? No. Everything is perfect. I’m with my family, I feel healthy, and I get to see your face right now. How could anything be wrong?”
Taehyung hesitated, teeth catching on his lip. His chest tightened in that way it had for days, the question clawing to get out. “Then… why does it feel like you’re far, even when you’re right here with me?”
For a beat, Jin just looked at him—eyes steady, tender. Then, with that comforting tone he always used to soften the edges of worry, he said:
“Tae, you should make good use of your freedom right now. Go enjoy the city, laugh with the members, take pictures, sing, do whatever you like. Don’t waste time being sad. I’ll come to you soon.”
The words were loving, but they landed strangely. Freedom. As if Jin was telling him to fill the space without him.
From the kitchen counter, Jimin—who had been silently demolishing a box of pizza while half-listening—froze mid-bite. The slice wobbled in his hand, cheese sliding dangerously close to his sleeve. He nearly dropped it outright, eyes wide.
Did Jin just tell Taehyung to enjoy his freedom?
Jimin looked at Tae quickly, then back at the phone screen, caught between choking on laughter or gasping out loud.
Taehyung didn’t notice—his gaze was locked on Jin, trying to read what wasn’t being said. “Freedom?” he repeated softly, like the word itself felt foreign on his tongue.
Jin only smiled, as if it were the simplest thing. “Yes. Don’t tie yourself up with waiting. Be happy, Taehyung-ah.”
Jimin set his pizza down, heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should step in, pretend he hadn’t heard, or run to the others. All he knew was that what Jin said didn’t sound casual—it sounded like something layered, something Taehyung might not be ready to hear.
And on the bed, Taehyung sat frozen, his screen filled with Jin’s tender, unwavering smile.
__________
The apartment was unusually calm that morning. Namjoon sat at the table flipping through a book, Jimin scrolled idly on his phone, and Hobi hummed quietly while tidying up the kitchen. Jungkook was the only one moving with purpose—stuffing clothes into a small duffel bag, zipping and unzipping compartments, checking his charger twice.
Taehyung leaned against the doorframe, watching. His arms were folded loosely, but his eyes lingered on the bag with a weight he couldn’t hide. The sound of the zipper closing felt louder than it should have.
“You’re… packing,” Taehyung finally said, voice low.
Jungkook glanced up, surprised by the tone, then nodded with a small smile. “Mm. Yeah. I’ll fly out soon.” He went back to folding a hoodie like it was the most ordinary task in the world.
Taehyung’s lips parted, then closed again. He waited, hoping someone else would say something. But Namjoon only murmured a quiet “Don’t forget your ID,” without looking up, and Hobi slipped another snack into Jungkook’s bag with a laugh. Everyone looked… normal. Too normal.
He tried again, his voice softer, uncertain. “So… you’re going to Korea. To see Seokjin-hyung?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook said easily, tugging the zipper closed once more. “Just for a few days.”
The answer landed heavier than it sounded. Taehyung shifted his weight, eyes narrowing slightly. His chest felt tight, but he couldn’t put the feeling into words. He expected at least some surprise, maybe even a question—but no one reacted. They just nodded like this had been obvious all along.
His fingers tapped against his arm. “And… that’s fine? Everyone’s okay with it?”
This time, Jimin looked up from his phone. His eyes flicked from Jungkook to Taehyung, reading the tension in his voice. Jungkook only shrugged, brushing it off, his tone light.
“Everything’s okay, hyung. Don’t worry.”
The shrug stung more than the words. Taehyung blinked, lips pressing together. Something felt wrong. Not about Jungkook leaving—he understood Jin had family, understood Jungkook wanted to visit. But the way everyone accepted it so calmly, like it was normal, while he was left standing there, heavy with longing…
Jimin set his phone down slowly, his gaze steady now. He didn’t say anything yet, but the seriousness in his eyes told Taehyung he wasn’t imagining it. There was something unsaid.
And Taehyung’s heart sank, because he could feel it—something was going on that no one was telling him.
__________
The quiet stretched uncomfortably in the apartment. Jungkook zipped his bag shut for the third time, as if checking it could distract from the weight in Taehyung’s voice. Jimin was still watching closely, shoulders tense.
Taehyung’s fingers tightened around the edge of the doorway. He licked his lips, hesitated, then finally let the question slip out, raw and shaky, “Does… does Seokjin-hyung want to break up with me?”
The words hung heavy, like they didn’t belong in the air.
Jungkook froze, glancing up with wide eyes. For a second, he looked like he might deny it right away. But instead, he exhaled, shrugged, and muttered, “Hyung, you’re overthinking again.”
The shrug hit harder than a slap. Taehyung’s chest squeezed, his breath faltered. He stepped back from the doorway, shaking his head quickly as if to clear it, but the thoughts flooded in too fast.
“He didn’t tell me about visiting his parents first. He didn’t tell me about you going there. He keeps smiling like everything is fine, but then he tells me to ‘enjoy my freedom’—” Taehyung’s words spilled out, quicker and quicker, his voice climbing. “What does that even mean? What if he really doesn’t want this anymore? What if I’m the only one holding on?”
Jimin was on his feet in seconds, moving to Taehyung’s side. “Tae, no—hey, look at me.” He cupped Taehyung’s arm gently, his voice steady but urgent. “That’s not what he meant. Don’t go there.”
Taehyung’s breaths were uneven now, his eyes glassy as the spiral took over. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why did everyone else know except me? Why is it normal for him to leave me out?”
“Tae,” Jimin said again, firmer this time, pulling him down to sit on the couch. “You’re not left out. He loves you. You know he does. Don’t let one shrug make you think otherwise.”
From the kitchen, Hobi slammed the cupboard a little too loudly, turning sharply toward Jungkook. His eyes narrowed, voice sharp in a way it rarely was.
“Jungkook. What the hell was that? Really? Do you know how cruel that looked just now?”
Jungkook blinked, startled, guilt flickering across his face. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean?” Hobi cut him off, stepping closer. “Tae asks you if his boyfriend is about to break his heart, and you shrug? That’s not nothing, Kook. You should’ve told him the truth straight away.”
Jimin rubbed Taehyung’s back gently, grounding him, while Taehyung stared at the floor, his thoughts a tangled mess of fear and longing.
__________
The hallway was dim, the only sound the faint hum of the AC. Taehyung hesitated outside Jungkook’s door for a moment before knocking softly.
There was a pause, then a muffled, irritated: “What?”
Taehyung pushed the door open anyway. Jungkook was sitting at the edge of his bed, arms folded, eyes fixed on the floor. His bag was still half-packed beside him.
“Can we talk?” Taehyung asked quietly.
Jungkook didn’t look up. “What’s there to talk about?” His tone was flat, edged with something close to anger.
Taehyung stepped inside, leaning against the wall. He studied Jungkook’s tense shoulders, the way his jaw was set. “Have I… done something wrong? You’ve been angry with me since I got back from Paris.”
That finally made Jungkook glance at him, but only briefly. He didn’t answer—just exhaled sharply and shrugged.
The shrug hit like déjà vu. Taehyung let out a small laugh, not bitter, just tired. He shook his head and gave a sad little smile. “Right. Another shrug.” He waited, then added softly, “Do you feel like talking? Or not today?”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The tension sat thick between them.
The door creaked behind them, and Yoongi appeared, leaning against the frame with a sigh. His eyes flicked from one to the other, unimpressed.
“Enough,” Yoongi said flatly. “This—whatever this is—is getting out of hand. You two need to talk. Now. Before it turns into something worse.”
Neither Taehyung nor Jungkook spoke, but both looked at him. Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck, his voice lower this time. “I don’t care if it’s messy. Just stop with the shrugs and silence. Figure it out.”
The silence dragged on until Jungkook stood suddenly, grabbing his hoodie from the chair. He pulled it over his head roughly, then stood there, fists clenched at his sides.
“You really want to know what’s wrong?” His voice was tight, sharp.
Taehyung straightened against the wall, eyes wide. He hadn’t expected Jungkook to actually speak—not like this.
Unbeknownst to them, footsteps had gathered in the hallway. Jimin, Hobi, and Namjoon lingered just out of sight, Yoongi still at the doorframe, arms crossed. The air was thick, everyone was waiting.
Jungkook laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “When you and Seokjin-hyung came out… do you know what happened? Everyone—everyone except me—went to him. They pulled him aside and told him not to hurt you. Not to mess this up. Some practically threatened him, just because he’s older. Because you’re…” his voice cracked, but he pushed through, “…you’re the one everyone protects. Because you’re younger and vulnerable compared to him.”
Taehyung blinked, caught off guard. “Jungkook—”
But Jungkook cut him off, his tone rising. “No, listen! They all thought he was the risk. That he’d be the one to make you cry.” His eyes burned, locking onto Taehyung. “But nobody imagined it’d be you who made him cry. You who hurt him.”
The words slammed into the room like a dropped weight.
Taehyung froze, stunned. The shock on his face was clear—he hadn’t expected anger this sharp, or to hear Jin’s name tied to crying.
Behind them, the hallway went dead silent. Jimin’s breath caught audibly. Hobi’s hand pressed against the wall like he needed to steady himself. Namjoon lowered his head, jaw tight.
Even Yoongi, though he didn’t flinch, shifted his eyes toward Taehyung, gauging his reaction.
The room was frozen. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell, his words still hanging heavy in the air.
Taehyung swallowed hard, his voice low but shaking. “When… when did I hurt him? What are you talking about, Jungkook?”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened. He took a step closer, fists still clenched in his sleeves. “You should be more careful when you drink, hyung. Especially when you’re in another country, with different staff, with so-called ‘friends’ you don’t really know. You think it’s nothing, but you—” he stopped himself, biting down, chest rising and falling fast. “You scared him. You made him cry.”
Taehyung stared, throat dry, the words twisting in his stomach.
From the doorway, Yoongi’s voice cut sharp, “Okay. Stop. This isn’t some small fight. This is serious.”
Jungkook’s head snapped toward him, eyes flashing. “Of course it’s serious!” he shot back, voice almost cracking. He rolled his eyes, muttering, “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
Yoongi’s brows twitched. He rolled his eyes right back, sharper. “Drop the sass, kid. You want to be taken seriously? Then talk properly. Start explaining.”
The hallway shifted as Namjoon finally stepped into the room, raising a hand like he could physically lower the heat. His voice was calm, but firm. “Maybe this is something that should stay between Taehyung and Jungkook. The rest of us—”
“No!” Taehyung’s voice broke in, louder than he intended. His eyes were wide, desperate, fixed on Jungkook. He stepped forward, hands shaking at his sides. “I can’t keep guessing anymore. Just—please. Please, Jungkook. Start talking.”
The room went silent, every breath heavy, every eye on Jungkook.
Jungkook looked between Taehyung’s face, Yoongi’s glare, Namjoon’s steady watch, and the shadows of Jimin and Hobi behind them. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, anger and hurt flickering raw in his expression.
Jungkook dragged a hand over his face, exhaling hard. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t because Yoongi or Namjoon told him to — it was because he’d decided he couldn’t hold it in anymore. His voice was low, clipped, but steady.
“It all started when hyung couldn’t reach you in Paris.” His eyes flicked to Taehyung, then away. “You didn’t answer. Nobody wanted to tell him where you were. For almost twelve hours, he tried, over and over, calling, texting, nothing. And when he finally got you—” Jungkook’s mouth twisted. “Oh boy. It was horrible.”
Taehyung’s breath caught, his hands balling tight at his sides.
“You were wasted,” Jungkook said bluntly. “Totally gone. You looked like hell. And then you yelled at him. Told him to leave you alone, just for a few hours, so you could ‘experience real freedom.’” He spit the words out, bitter.
The room was so quiet that Taehyung’s whisper carried “No…” His hands trembled as he pressed them together tightly, holding them as if they might break apart.
Jungkook shrugged, the gesture sharp, defensive. Taehyung’s chest tightened at the sight — he wanted to shake him, to make him say more instead of throwing it like a wall.
But Jungkook wasn’t done. His jaw tightened as he looked directly at Taehyung. “That was the first time I wished you and Seokjin-hyung weren’t dating.”
The words hit like stone.
“Because he called me after,” Jungkook went on, his voice rough now. “Crying. Confused. Begging me to tell him what was happening, if he did something wrong, if he hurt you without noticing. He was asking me if he wasn’t a good partner.” Jungkook’s throat bobbed, and his eyes burned with something sharp and ugly. “Hyung thought he wasn’t enough for you.”
Taehyung’s knees felt weak. His hands pressed tighter, knuckles white.
Jungkook’s voice dropped, almost a growl. “I love you like a brother. But the second he started saying he wasn’t good enough… the second he started crying like that—” He shook his head, bitterness bleeding through. “I wished pain on you, Taehyung. I hated you in that moment.”
The words hung heavily, choking the air. Nobody moved, nobody breathed.
And Taehyung, pale and shaking, could only stare at Jungkook, the weight of his own actions crashing down on him at last.
TBC