Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Echoes We Hide

The sun filtered through the curtains in soft ribbons of gold, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. Jung Hoseok sat on the edge of his bed, eyes unfocused, hands curled loosely in his lap. He could hear the chaos downstairs: Jungkook was yelling about cereal, Taehyung was singing off-key, and Seokjin was trying (and failing) to keep the kitchen from descending into full anarchy.

Another morning in the Kim household.

He should have gone downstairs already. Breakfast was usually his favorite part of the day—something warm, comforting, surrounded by the loud, imperfect love of his family. But today his stomach twisted, a sharp pinch of nausea crawling up his throat. Again.

He pressed a hand to his abdomen, wincing.

“You okay?” came a voice from the doorway.

Hoseok looked up. Min Yoongi stood there in his rumpled black hoodie, hair still mussed from sleep, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, as always—but Hoseok knew his brother too well. Yoongi’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit when he was suspicious. They were definitely narrowed now.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said quickly, standing up and forcing a too-bright smile. “Just tired.”

Yoongi didn’t move. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ for three weeks.”

Hoseok grabbed his backpack. “Well, school’s exhausting, hyung. Especially when you’re basically a backup parent for three sugar-fueled gremlins.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, but let it go. “They’re not your responsibility.”

“Tell that to Jungkook. He only lets me brush his hair without screaming like a banshee.”

A ghost of a smirk passed over Yoongi’s face. “That’s fair.”

They walked downstairs together, where chaos continued to reign. Seokjin was dramatically flipping pancakes while simultaneously arguing with Taehyung over which tie matched his school uniform. Jimin was trying to sneak a cookie into his lunchbox. Namjoon sat at the table, sipping coffee and reading the news on his tablet like he couldn’t hear the circus happening around him.

“Morning,” Namjoon said without looking up. “Hobi, eat something.”

“I will,” Hoseok lied, slipping into his usual seat.

He picked at a piece of toast while pretending to be engaged in the morning chatter. His eyes wandered to the corner of the table, where Jimin and Jungkook were trading Pokémon cards with the intensity of Wall Street traders.
A strange ache settled in his chest. This life—this messy, loud, beautiful family—was everything to him. He didn’t want anything to change.

Which was a problem.

Because something was changing.

⸻

Later that day, in the quiet of the school’s second-floor bathroom, Hoseok sat on the closed lid of the toilet, knees bouncing, a test clutched in his shaking hands.

He wasn’t sure what terrified him more: the possibility of being wrong, or the possibility of being right.

He had skipped health class enough times to know how rare this situation was for someone like him. But rare didn’t mean impossible. And nothing else explained the sickness, the dizziness, the… heaviness.

He glanced down at the test again.

Two pink lines.

His whole world tilted.

⸻

That night, lying in bed with his eyes wide open, Hoseok tried to breathe evenly, pretending—hoping—this was all a dream.

Below him, the house creaked and settled. Somewhere down the hall, Yoongi’s music played faintly. Namjoon was probably still awake, reading about ancient philosophy. Seokjin had left a plate of sliced apples by Hoseok’s door like he always did when he sensed something was off.

They were all right there.

And he couldn’t tell any of them.

He turned to his side, curled around his pillow, and whispered to no one, “Please don’t fall apart.”

But even as he said it, he knew.

Something already had.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Quiet Panic

The bathroom light buzzed softly above him, flickering every few seconds like it couldn’t decide whether to stay on. Jung Hoseok sat on the cold tile floor, back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, and the test still clutched in his hand. Two lines. Still there. Still real.

His phone buzzed on the sink above him. He didn’t move.

Another buzz. A message from Jimin:
[Jimin] hyung where r u 😭 Jungkook just put peanut butter in my hair

Then another:
[Taehyung] we are missing u 4 ramen night!! hurry up!!!

He wanted to reply, to laugh, to be the old Hoseok who could walk into the kitchen smiling and throw noodles at his brothers without flinching. But he felt like a ghost inside his own body. Like something had crawled in and taken over.

He finally stood, flushed the toilet just to cover his presence, and washed his face in the sink. Cold water. Sharp breath.

His reflection looked pale and too thin. His eyes—always bright, always warm—looked dull now, like lightbulbs dimmed by fear.

This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t supposed to be possible.
But it was. It is. The lines didn’t lie.

⸻

That night, he avoided ramen night by saying he had to study. Jin protested with a dramatic gasp, but Yoongi covered for him—“He’s been falling behind in chemistry,” he said dryly, shooting Hoseok a look Hoseok couldn’t quite read.

He sat at his desk with a textbook open in front of him, though he didn’t read a single word. His thoughts spiraled too fast.

How would he even tell them?
Would they still look at him the same?
Would he still be Hoseok—or just the mistake?

Namjoon and Seokjin had always been proud of him. He wasn’t the most brilliant student, but he was reliable. The golden middle child. The glue in their messy household. Always smiling. Always steady.

Would they still love him if he broke?

He thought about telling Yoongi. He almost did.

He even knocked on his door.

Yoongi opened it half a crack, eyebrows raised, headphones still around his neck.
“You okay?” he asked, and something in his voice made Hoseok’s throat tighten.

“I—”
But the words caught. Froze. Died.

He forced a smile instead. “Never mind. Just wanted to see if you had my charger.”

Yoongi didn’t look convinced, but he handed him the charger wordlessly.

“Thanks,” Hoseok mumbled, then walked away before his brother could ask more.

⸻

Over the next week, Hoseok became a master at pretending.

He laughed at Jimin’s jokes even though his stomach rolled constantly. He helped Jungkook with his math homework, swallowing nausea as he leaned over the table. He even made stupid TikToks with Taehyung in the backyard, though the sound of his own laugh felt distant and fake.

He Googled things in secret.

Can guys get pregnant?

How rare is it?

Symptoms of early pregnancy when intersex

How to hide pregnancy from your family

The search history felt like a diary of his worst fear.

He wore looser clothes. Ate less. Avoided mirrors. Avoided himself.

⸻

One night, Seokjin cornered him in the hallway.

“You haven’t been eating,” he said gently, placing a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?”

Hoseok forced a smile that nearly broke his face in half. “Just stress. Exams, you know.”

Seokjin frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said quickly. “Don’t worry about me.”

Seokjin kissed the side of his head. “I always will. That’s the deal. You know that, right?”

Hoseok nodded.

But inside, something cracked.

Because he knew the truth.

If they found out, everything would change.

⸻

Late that night, when the house was silent and dark, Hoseok sat in the hallway with his back to the wall and his knees pulled to his chest.

He placed a hand on his stomach.

Nothing yet. Nothing visible. But it was there. Growing. Quiet. Unstoppable.

“Please don’t ruin everything,” he whispered.

He didn’t know if he was speaking to the baby or himself.

Maybe both.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Storm in the Mirror

The gymnasium smelled like sweat and floor polish. Hoseok hated it.

He stood at the back of the class, arms stretched lazily over his head as Coach Lee shouted instructions for warm-ups. The floor was too bright, and the sound of squeaking sneakers grated on his nerves. His stomach turned again.

Breathe, just breathe, he told himself.

He’d almost skipped school altogether that morning. But skipping twice in one week would raise too many questions, and questions were exactly what he couldn’t afford.

“Kim Hoseok!” Coach barked. “You’re up next. Ten laps around the court.”

Hoseok forced a nod and stepped forward, his legs already shaking.

He didn’t even make it to the second lap.
A sharp wave of dizziness hit him like a punch. The room tilted. His knees buckled. The last thing he saw was the ceiling blurring above him as he collapsed.

When he opened his eyes, he was lying on the nurse’s cot, the lights dimmed overhead. Something cold pressed against his forehead.

“Hey.”

Hoseok turned his head. Yoongi sat beside him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“You fainted,” he said flatly.

Hoseok groaned, trying to sit up. His head spun. “I’m fine. Just skipped breakfast.”

“You’ve skipped breakfast every day for a week."

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Yoongi’s voice was low, but it cut sharper than any yell. “You’ve been off for weeks. You look like you haven’t slept. You barely eat. You’re hiding something.”

Hoseok opened his mouth, but no words came. His throat tightened, a lump forming like a stone.

Yoongi stood and moved to the door, checking to make sure no one was nearby. Then he closed it, turning back toward his brother.

“I’m not Dad. I’m not gonna punish you. Just talk to me. Please.”

Hoseok stared at the ceiling. The words had been waiting, burning, clawing at his throat for days.

He whispered them before he could stop himself.
“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Hoseok squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst. Laughter. Yelling. Disbelief. Disgust.
But Yoongi said nothing.

When Hoseok finally opened his eyes, Yoongi was still standing there, frozen.

“You… What?” His voice was quiet. Cracked.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Hoseok said quickly. “It wasn’t… planned. I didn’t even think it could happen to me, not really. But the test— I’ve taken three. They all said the same thing.”

Still, Yoongi didn’t move. He looked like someone had pulled the floor out from under him.

“I was going to tell you. I just— I didn’t know how. I still don’t.”

Finally, Yoongi sat back down. He rubbed his hands over his face, as if trying to process something too big for his brain.

“Who?” he asked quietly.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. He doesn’t want anything to do with it.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. Hoseok could see his fists tightening.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok whispered. “I didn’t want this.”

“I know,” Yoongi said hoarsely. “God, I know.”

They sat in silence for a long time, the hum of the school hallway beyond the door the only sound between them.
“You haven’t told Appa or Dad yet?” Yoongi asked.

Hoseok shook his head.

Yoongi blew out a breath, leaning back in the plastic chair.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Then we figure it out. Just you and me for now.”

Hoseok blinked. “You’re not mad?”

Yoongi gave him a long look. “I’m mad at a lot of things. But not you.”

The words cracked something inside Hoseok.

He let out a shaky breath, covering his face with his hands.
For the first time in weeks, he let himself cry—quiet, trembling sobs that curled his whole body inward.

Yoongi reached over and pulled him into a hug.

It was awkward, sideways, and far from graceful—but Hoseok clung to him like a lifeline.

“I’ve got you,” Yoongi whispered into his hair. “I promise.”

And for the first time in a long time, Hoseok let himself
believe it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Fractures and Fibers

The smell of garlic and soy sauce filled the house.

Seokjin moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming under his breath while flipping vegetables in a pan. Namjoon sat nearby at the dining table, one foot tucked under him, scribbling notes for a lecture. The younger boys were upstairs, their footsteps thudding occasionally as they played some version of tag that clearly had no rules.

Hoseok sat on the living room couch, staring at the muted TV, barely blinking.

He hadn’t told them.

Yet.

⸻

Yoongi had become his shadow.

Since the collapse in gym, his older brother hadn’t left him alone for more than a few hours. He made Hoseok tea every morning. He packed his school lunch himself. He even started sleeping with his door cracked open—just in case Hoseok needed him in the middle of the night.

That afternoon, after school, Yoongi cornered him again in their shared room.

“You need to eat more,” he said, sitting cross-legged on Hoseok’s bed, holding out a bowl of rice and boiled eggs.

Hoseok stared at it.

“I’m not hungry.”

Yoongi’s eyes darkened. “This isn’t about hunger anymore. You have a body inside your body now. You can’t just starve through this.”

Hoseok looked away. “It’s hard, hyung. Every time I eat, I feel like throwing up.”

Hoseok swallowed hard and took the bowl.

The first bite went down like dust.

⸻

Later that evening, Jimin peeked into the kitchen with Taehyung close behind.

“Why isn’t Hobi hyung helping with dinner?” Jimin asked. “He always sets the table.”

Seokjin looked up from the stove, surprised. “I think he’s tired. Maybe he’s studying.”

“He doesn’t study on Wednesdays,” Taehyung added with a small frown. “It’s movie night. Remember?”

Namjoon looked up from his notes.

“He’s probably just stressed,” he said, glancing toward the living room. “Let him have space.”

But Jimin didn’t let things go.

⸻
That night, Hoseok went to bed early again.

Or rather—he tried to.

Around midnight, the door creaked open.

Jimin tiptoed in.

“Hobi hyung?”

Hoseok blinked, already half-awake.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Jimin asked softly. “I had a weird dream.”

“Sure,” Hoseok said, scooting over.

Jimin curled up beside him like he used to when they were little. They lay in silence for a moment, until Jimin whispered, “You’re acting weird.”

Hoseok stiffened.

“I’m not dumb,” Jimin added. “You’re not laughing as much. You barely eat. Your eyes are puffy every morning. I know when something’s wrong.”

Hoseok stared at the ceiling.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered.

Jimin sat up, frustrated. “You think I can’t handle it? That I don’t deserve to know what’s going on with you?”

Hoseok bit his tongue.

Then Jimin sighed. “You’re not just my brother, Hobi. You’re my safe person. If something’s hurting you, I wanna fight it.”

Those words nearly broke him.

He turned over, facing Jimin. “I’m… figuring things out. I’ll tell you. But not yet.”

Jimin stared at him, searching for something. Then nodded slowly.

“Okay. But if you lie to me again, I’m telling Dad.”

Hoseok laughed quietly through the knot in his throat. “Deal.”

⸻

The next morning, Taehyung knocked on Yoongi’s door.

“Yoongi hyung,” he said, holding up a half-empty bottle of vitamins. “Why are there prenatal vitamins in Hoseok hyung’s backpack?”

Yoongi froze.

Jimin, standing beside Taehyung, crossed his arms.

“We’re not stupid.”

Yoongi rubbed his forehead. “Close the door.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: A Crack in the Shell

The attic was off-limits.

That usually meant everyone went up there.

By the time Yoongi stormed in, the three younger boys were already gathered in a triangle on the old dusty rug—Jimin sitting cross-legged, Taehyung sprawled out like a starfish, and Jungkook fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie.

They all looked up when he entered, the trapdoor creaking closed behind him.

Yoongi didn’t speak right away. He crossed his arms and stared.

“You’ve been snooping,” he said flatly.

Jimin didn’t deny it. “You’ve been hiding.”

Taehyung held up the half-empty bottle of prenatal vitamins again, like it was evidence in a trial. “Why would Hoseok hyung be taking these unless he’s…”

He trailed off, as if the word itself was dangerous.

“Is he?” Jungkook asked, his voice small. “Is he really pregnant?”

The silence was like a thunderclap.

Yoongi exhaled slowly, then dropped down to sit on an old box near the wall.

“It wasn’t your secret to find out.”

Jimin’s eyes flashed. “We’re not just his roommates, Yoongi. We’re his family. You can’t expect us not to notice when our brother is literally falling apart in front of us.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I was trying to protect him. He’s scared out of his mind, and he didn’t want anyone else to know.”

“But we do know now,” Taehyung said softly. “So what happens next?”

They sat in a tense circle, the four of them, while Yoongi explained as much as he could—without giving away what wasn’t his to tell. How Hoseok had fainted. How he broke down in the nurse’s office. How he was still too scared to tell Namjoon and Seokjin.

Jungkook didn’t say much. He looked the most shaken.

“I thought he was just… sad,” the youngest mumbled. “Like, school stress or whatever. But this? This is big. Like… really big.”

“It doesn’t change who he is,” Jimin said firmly. “He’s still our Hobi hyung.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“But you’re acting like it.”

“I just—” Jungkook’s voice cracked. “I don’t get how this even happens. Isn’t that like… rare? Or impossible?”

“Not impossible,” Yoongi said quietly. “Just… unusual. And confusing. And terrifying, when you’re sixteen and trying to keep everyone else from worrying about you.”

They were quiet again.

Then Taehyung said, “We should help him.”

Jimin nodded immediately. “We already are. Starting now."

“How?” Jungkook asked. “We’re literally just kids.”

Jimin smiled faintly. “So is he.”

That evening, Hoseok sat alone in the backyard, the late summer air still warm, crickets chirping under the stars. He stared at the sky and tried not to think.

Then he heard it: footsteps on the grass.

Three.

Too many to ignore.

He looked over his shoulder—and saw them. Jimin.
Taehyung. Jungkook.

Taehyung flopped down on the grass beside him with no warning. Jimin sat cross-legged. Jungkook hovered for a second before sitting, too.

No one said anything for a while.

Then Jungkook mumbled, “You should’ve told us.”

“I was scared,” Hoseok said honestly.

“We were too,” Taehyung replied.

Hoseok looked at each of them in turn. “So… you all know.”

Jimin reached out, taking Hoseok’s hand without hesitation. “Yeah. And we’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re not mad?” Hoseok asked, voice small.

“Mad? No,” Taehyung said, shaking his head. “Worried? Yes. Confused? Definitely. But mad? Never.”

Jungkook looked down. “I didn’t understand at first. I thought… I don’t know. That you didn’t trust us."

Hoseok’s eyes burned. “I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

“We do,” Jimin said softly. “But not in a bad way.”

“You’re braver than any of us,” Jungkook added.

Taehyung grinned and bumped his shoulder. “We were gonna ask if you wanted to start a secret club. Like a pregnancy support group. But then Jimin said that was stupid.”
“I didn’t say stupid,” Jimin huffed. “I said dramatic.”
Hoseok laughed. For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t forced.

“I missed this,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“We’re still here,” Jimin whispered. “We never left.”

And in the warmth of their presence, surrounded by grass and stars and unconditional love, Hoseok finally let go of the fear that had been strangling him.
At least for tonight.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Things That Break and Things That Hold

Hoseok didn’t sleep.

The stars outside his window dimmed into dawn, and still, he lay awake—hands on his stomach, heart hammering behind his ribs like it wanted out.

He knew.

Tonight was the night.

No more hiding. No more excuses. His brothers knew, and they were still here. That gave him hope.

But Namjoon and Seokjin? That was a different storm entirely.

He loved them more than words, more than air. They were the foundation of his world. His fathers. His compass.
And what if this broke them?

Dinner was warm and soft that night: kimchi stew, rice, and grilled tofu. The kind of comfort food Seokjin always made on long days. The kind that used to feel safe.

Hoseok barely touched his bowl.

Namjoon noticed. Of course he did.

“Hobi,” he said gently. “Is something going on?”

Hoseok looked up. All five of his brothers were there at the table. Even Yoongi hadn’t touched his phone in minutes. Taehyung gave a subtle nod. Jimin reached under the table and brushed their pinkies together. Jungkook wouldn’t meet his eyes, but Hoseok could feel him holding his breath.

This was it.

“Appa,” Hoseok began, his voice dry. “Dad.”

Both men turned fully toward him, all attention focused.

His throat closed. His stomach rolled. But he forced the words through.

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence was immediate. Deafening.

Seokjin blinked slowly. “I… Sorry, sweetheart. I thought you said—”

“I’m pregnant,” Hoseok said again, more firmly this time.

“It’s real. I’ve taken tests. I went to the nurse. Yoongi knows. So do the others. I’m… I’m sixteen and I’m pregnant.”

He waited for the world to fall apart.

Waited for the yelling, the disbelief, the horror.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, the muscles in his jaw tightening. His fingers laced together, slow and deliberate. Not angry—thinking.

Seokjin just stared, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.
The younger boys sat frozen, as if their stillness might keep the peace from shattering.

Then Namjoon finally spoke. “How long have you known?”

“Three weeks.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

Hoseok shook his head. “Not yet.”

Namjoon nodded once. His voice was too calm. “We’ll schedule one first thing tomorrow.”

That wasn’t what Hoseok expected. He blinked. “You’re not… mad?”

Namjoon didn’t answer immediately. He rubbed his temples with both hands. “I don’t even know what I feel yet. Shock. Fear. Guilt.” He looked at Hoseok. “But not mad. Never mad at you.”

Hoseok felt his breath stutter.

Then Seokjin finally stood from his chair and crossed the room. Without a word, he pulled Hoseok into the tightest hug he’d ever given.

“You must’ve been so scared,” Seokjin whispered into his hair. “All alone with this.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Hoseok choked out. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Seokjin pulled back to look him in the eyes. “Sweetheart, the only thing that disappoints me is that you thought you couldn’t come to us.”

A small, broken sound escaped Hoseok’s throat.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Namjoon finally stood too. His steps were slow but sure. “We’re not perfect parents. But we’re still your parents. And we love you. This changes a lot, but it doesn’t change that.”
Tears spilled freely down Hoseok’s face now. He didn’t fight them.

Then Namjoon did something Hoseok would never forget.

He knelt beside him, hands on both his shoulders.

“We’re going to figure this out together. Every step. You’re not doing this alone.”

The room exhaled.

Jimin cried openly. Taehyung wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Yoongi looked down at the table, jaw tight, but the relief in his body was visible. Jungkook, finally, looked at his hyung with open awe.

And Hoseok?

For the first time since those two pink lines appeared, he let himself believe he might be okay.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: The Sound of a Heart

The clinic was quiet, all cool-toned walls and the hum of distant machines. Hoseok sat between Namjoon and Seokjin, his fingers nervously laced in his lap, a too-large hoodie draped over his frame like a shield.

Yoongi had offered to come too, but Hoseok asked him to stay home with the others. This wasn’t something he could do with all of them watching. Not yet.

He needed this moment to be private.

Namjoon leaned over. “You okay?”

“No,” Hoseok replied truthfully. “But I’m here.”

Namjoon nodded like that was enough. For now, it was.

Dr. Park was kind.

Not soft in a fake way—but gentle in her words and careful with her eyes. She explained everything slowly: what they’d check for today, what tests would come later, what things they needed to start monitoring.

Hoseok sat on the exam table, legs swinging like a little kid, his heart racing.

Then the ultrasound machine was wheeled in.

“I don’t know if we’ll hear anything yet,” Dr. Park said as she applied the cool gel to Hoseok’s lower stomach. “But we’ll try.”

Namjoon held Hoseok’s hand.

Seokjin stood on the other side, eyes fixed on the screen.
The room was completely still.

And then—

A sound.

Faint. Rhythmic. Fast.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

The sound of a heart.

Tiny. Real.

Alive.

Hoseok’s eyes went wide, and he stopped breathing for a moment.

“That’s…” he whispered.

Dr. Park smiled. “That’s your baby.”

The world shrank and expanded all at once.

For weeks, it had felt like a dream. A secret. A nightmare, even. Something far away.

But this?

This was real.

A heartbeat, steady and strong.

Something inside him, impossibly, was alive.
Tears gathered in his eyes.

Namjoon squeezed his hand.

Seokjin sniffled softly. “That’s… incredible.”

Dr. Park handed Hoseok a small printout of the blurry shape on the screen. “You’re about ten weeks along. We’ll set up a full prenatal schedule. But everything looks healthy so far.”

Hoseok couldn’t speak. He just stared at the photo.
He wasn’t sure if he felt love yet—what he felt was still too tangled, too raw.

But he felt something.

Hope, maybe.

Or the beginning of it.

That night at home, Hoseok sat on the edge of his bed, the ultrasound photo tucked into his sketchbook. His fingers hovered above it, not ready to draw, but not ready to close the book either.

A knock came on the door.

“Come in,” he said.

Jimin slipped inside and closed the door softly behind him. He held out a warm blanket and a mug of honey tea. “Hyung,” he said, “can I sit with you?”

Hoseok nodded.

They sat in silence for a while.

Then Jimin said, “Did you hear it?”

Hoseok blinked. “The heartbeat?”

Jimin nodded.

Hoseok smiled faintly. “Yeah. It was the strangest thing.
Like… hearing a secret I didn’t know I was allowed to know.”
Jimin leaned against him, cheek to shoulder.

“I want to help,” he said quietly. “Even if it’s just holding your tea or rubbing your back when you feel sick.”

“You already help,” Hoseok said. “Just being here.”

Jimin smiled.

The door creaked open again, and Taehyung peeked in.
“You didn’t invite me?”

“Come here,” Hoseok said, patting the bed.

And then Jungkook too, clutching a pillow, joined without asking.

Within minutes, Hoseok was surrounded by warmth, blankets, and the quiet comfort of his brothers.
They didn’t say much.

But sometimes love didn’t need words.

Sometimes, it just needed to stay.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Whispers in the Halls

School felt different now.

It wasn’t just the queasiness in the mornings or the nurse appointments written discreetly into his schedule. It was the way he walked — slower, more aware of every bump in the hallway, every glance.

For weeks, Hoseok had mastered the art of invisibility.

But secrets don’t stay secret forever.

Not when you’re sixteen.

Not in a school full of talkers.

It started with a whisper in second period.

Two girls behind him leaned in close over a desk:
“He fainted in gym, right? Like totally dropped. Do you think he has… a condition?”

Then in lunchroom line:
“He’s been wearing hoodies in July. July. You think he’s hiding something?”

And finally, someone bolder:
“Hey Jung Hoseok — you sick or something?”
He didn’t answer. Just kept walking.

Yoongi found out first. He always did.

He cornered Hoseok after school, eyes sharp beneath his messy hair. “Someone said a junior posted about you. On their private story.”

“What did they say?”

“That you’re pregnant.”

Hoseok went cold. “How would they even…?”

“Someone must’ve heard at the clinic. Or seen something. I don’t know.”

Panic rose like bile.

Everything he’d worked to protect — all the quiet, all the effort — cracked in an instant.

“What do I do?” he whispered.

Yoongi was silent for a long time. Then: “You stop hiding.”

Hoseok didn’t sleep that night.

He sat on the bathroom floor at 2 a.m., forehead pressed to his knees, breathing like the walls were shrinking around him. Seokjin found him there, pale and shivering.
“Hey, hey,” Seokjin murmured, kneeling beside him. “Breathe with me, Hobi. In. Out. Again.”

Hoseok shook his head. “They know. People at school. They’re going to talk. They’re going to hate me.”

Seokjin wrapped him in a towel and pulled him into his arms. “They don’t get to decide who you are.”

“But they’ll see me.”

“Let them.”

“I’m not brave like Jimin. Or quiet like Yoongi. Or chill like Tae.”

“No,” Seokjin said, cupping his face, “you’re Hoseok. You’ve always been the sun in this house. And now? You’re the sun carrying a galaxy.”

Hoseok let out a strangled sound — part sob, part laugh.
“I don’t want to be brave anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Seokjin whispered. “Just be you. That’s enough.”

The next morning, Hoseok did something different.
He didn’t wear a hoodie.

He wore a loose white t-shirt, his stomach just barely rounded now — a softness no one would’ve noticed last month, but impossible to deny now.

He walked into school with his head up.

The silence hit first. Then the stares.
Then the phones.

But he kept walking.

Yoongi was waiting at his locker.

“Looks good on you,” Yoongi said, nodding at the shirt.
“You think?”

“Yeah. It says, ‘I’m tired and I dare you to ask me why.’”
They shared a quiet laugh.

And when Hoseok turned to face the hallway again, he caught a few eyes — wide, confused, whispering.

He let them whisper.

Let them wonder.

Let them see.

Because hiding had kept him safe.

But truth?

Truth was how he’d survive.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: The Weight of Words

Monday was worse.

The whispering turned into pointing. The stares lasted longer. The quiet stopped being quiet — it got mean.

And by third period, it stopped being just whispers.

“He’s the pregnant one, right?”
“No way that’s real.”
“Is it even his baby?”
“Gross.”

Hoseok tried to ignore them. He kept his head down, earbuds in, hoodie back on.

But it still got in.

At lunch, he didn’t go to the cafeteria.

He went to the rooftop instead — where the door didn’t fully lock and the wind was strong enough to carry his shame far away. He sat on the edge of the raised concrete slab and let the breeze cool the sweat on his neck.

He felt heavy.

Like gravity was trying extra hard to keep him down.
He touched his stomach. “You okay in there?”

There was no answer, of course.

Just the flutter of wind. The faint hum of life beneath his skin.

And the fear.

He didn’t cry. Not yet. But his throat ached with the effort it took to stay quiet.

He didn’t notice the door creak open.

“Found you."

It was Jimin — hair windswept, his schoolbag dangling from one shoulder.

“Yoongi said I might find you here.”

Hoseok turned away. “I didn’t ask him to send anyone.”
“I wasn’t sent. I volunteered.”

Jimin walked over and sat beside him, not too close. Just enough.

“Taehyung heard someone talking trash in the hallway. I was about to fight them.”

Hoseok gave a weak smile. “Don’t fight.”

“I didn’t. Yet.”

They sat in silence.

Then Jimin asked softly, “You want to come back inside?”

“No.”

“Okay. Then we’ll stay here.”

He pulled out a small pack of sliced apples from his bag.

“Yoongi packed snacks. He said you’d probably skip lunch again.”

Hoseok stared at the fruit. Then took a piece.
It tasted like home.

But peace didn’t last long.

By seventh period, a boy named Sunwoo — tall, smug, always too loud — stepped into Hoseok’s path in the hallway.

“Hey, Jung,” he said, smirking. “You really got knocked up?”
Hoseok’s spine locked straight.

Sunwoo leaned in. “How’s it feel, being a school experiment? You think you’re special? Or just a freak show?”

Hoseok didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

Yoongi was suddenly there.

And he wasn’t alone.

Jimin. Taehyung. Jungkook.

Even Seokjin, somehow — coat over his arm, hair
windswept from rushing in.

And Namjoon. Standing tall. Calm. But furious.

Namjoon stepped between Sunwoo and Hoseok.

“You have three seconds to walk away,” he said, voice low and steady.

Sunwoo laughed, but it cracked around the edges. “What, he needs a bodyguard now?”

Namjoon stepped forward, towering over him. “No. He needs respect. And you need to remember this is a school, not a circus.”

Sunwoo backed off.

Fast.

And just like that, the crowd that had been gathering—phones ready, mouths open—dispersed like smoke.
Hoseok finally exhaled.

Seokjin stepped to him, wrapping his coat gently around his shoulders.

“I was on my way home when Yoongi texted,” he said softly. “I told your Appa I had a feeling.”

“Are you mad?” Hoseok asked, voice trembling.

“Not at you,” Seokjin said. “Never at you.”

That night, Hoseok sat in bed with all five of his brothers in his room. Jimin was doing homework on the floor. Taehyung and Jungkook were playing some weird card game. Yoongi was scrolling his phone near the window.
The energy was… normal.

Which felt like a miracle.

Seokjin knocked once before coming in.

“You okay?” he asked Hoseok quietly.

“Better.”

Namjoon appeared behind him. “We called the school. They’ll handle Sunwoo. And anyone else who starts something.”

“Thanks.”

Namjoon crouched in front of him, eye level. “You were brave today. But you never have to go through that alone again.”

“I know,” Hoseok whispered.

And for the first time, he believed it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: The Moment the World Changed

It happened on a Thursday.

The kind of afternoon where the sky looked like cotton — thick, soft clouds hanging low, the air pregnant with a storm.

So was Hoseok.

Eight and a half months.

The house had changed.

There were bottles on the kitchen counter. A bassinet in the corner of Hoseok’s bedroom. Little onesies folded with care by Seokjin. Yoongi had installed a dimmer light “for night feedings,” pretending he hadn’t looked up every YouTube dad tutorial in existence. Taehyung made a lullaby playlist. Jimin sewed tiny name patches with glitter thread. Jungkook cried the first time he felt the baby kick.
Namjoon stopped reading poetry at night. He read parenting books instead.

Everything was ready.

Except… no one was really ready.

Least of all Hoseok.

The pain started just after lunch.

Not terrible — just enough to make him stop walking. Then again, ten minutes later. Then again, and again. A steady rhythm.

He didn’t tell anyone for an hour.

He sat on the couch, timing contractions on his phone. Quietly breathing. Quietly terrified.

It was Yoongi who noticed first. “You okay?”
“I think it’s time,” Hoseok whispered.

Yoongi didn’t panic. He just nodded and stood up. “Appa,” he called, calmly. “Grab the bag.”

In less than ten minutes, the whole family was packed into two cars and on the way to the hospital.

The delivery room was bright and sterile and way too real.
Hoseok’s hands shook.

“Breathe with me,” Jimin said softly from his side.

Seokjin smoothed his hair back. “You’re doing so well.”

Namjoon held his hand like a lifeline. “You’ve got this. Just a little longer.”

Hours passed.

Time blurred.

The pain was worse than anything Hoseok had imagined. But it wasn’t just pain — it was power. Like his whole body had become the axis of the universe. Every push felt like a war.

And then —

A cry.

High-pitched. Fragile. Alive.

The room went still.

Then it exploded into motion — nurses cleaning, checking, wrapping.

Then…

A tiny bundle was placed in his arms.

Hoseok stared.

The baby was so small. Red-faced. Fuzzy-haired. Fingers like curled flower petals.

A boy.

Perfect.

He looked at Seokjin, at Namjoon, at all his brothers standing breathless at the foot of the bed.

And for the first time since the test. Since the fear. Since the whispers and stares and fights.

He smiled.

A real smile.

“He’s beautiful,” Jungkook whispered.

“He looks like you,” Taehyung said softly.

“Poor kid,” Hoseok joked, breathless.

Everyone laughed through their tears.

Namjoon leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You did it, Hobi.”

Hoseok looked down at the tiny life in his arms.
“I think,” he whispered, “he did most of it.”

Later, in the quiet of the recovery room, Hoseok held his son close and whispered a name.

“Haemin,” he said. “It means bright and gentle.”

Seokjin cried first.

Yoongi turned his face to the wall so no one would see his.
The others just said it, over and over:
“Haemin.”
“Our little star.”
“Our miracle.”

Outside, the clouds finally broke. But not into a storm — into sunlight.

A golden glow filtered into the room.

And in that warmth, surrounded by his family, Hoseok knew one thing for certain:
He was no longer afraid.

He was a son.

A brother.

A child.

And now…

He was a father.

And he would never be alone again.

Chapter Text

Epilogue: One Year of Light

The house was louder now.

There was always a rattle or a clatter. Toys on the floor. Laughter bouncing off the walls. Someone humming. Someone tripping. Someone shouting, “Where’s the bottle?!” while the baby screamed in the background.
But it was a good loud.

A full loud.

The kind of loud that meant life was being lived.

Haemin turned one today.

He was walking now — kind of. More like wobbling from couch to couch, using anything and everything as a support system. Including, once, the family dog.

He had a gummy smile full of trouble, a laugh like a windchime, and his favorite word was “Yoong!” — which he yelled proudly at his uncle Yoongi whether he was in the room or not.

Jimin swore the baby liked him best.

Taehyung claimed he taught him how to dance.

Jungkook had video proof that he got the first real giggle.
They were all right, in their own way.

Haemin belonged to all of them.

But especially Hoseok.

The backyard was filled with balloons, picnic blankets, and half-eaten cupcakes. A big hand-painted banner read:
“HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY, HAEMIN!”

There were flower crowns (Taehyung’s idea), a “smash cake” that ended up on the grass, and a playlist of soft songs Hoseok had picked over the past year — lullabies and love songs that now made up the soundtrack of his son’s life.

Seokjin held a plastic cup of punch and pretended not to cry when Haemin reached for him.

Namjoon sat with Hoseok on the grass, their knees touching. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

Hoseok watched his son toddle toward Jimin, who dramatically fell over when Haemin bumped into him.

“I’m… good,” Hoseok said. Then smiled. “No. I’m great.”
Namjoon didn’t say anything — he just bumped shoulders with him and handed over the last piece of cake.

That night, long after the decorations had been taken down and the last of the balloons floated quietly in the living room, Hoseok stood at Haemin’s crib.

The baby was asleep, one tiny hand curled into a fist above his head. Peaceful. Safe.

Hoseok leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You’re one now,” he whispered. “And I still don’t know if I’m doing everything right.”

The baby stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

Hoseok smiled.

“But I do know this — I’ve never loved anyone more.”
He sat down beside the crib and let his head rest on the edge.

He thought about the test. The whispers. The pain. The birth. The first laugh. The first step. Every late night and early morning.

He thought about his fathers.

His brothers.

And now, his son.

This family — loud, tangled, soft around the edges — had saved him. Carried him.

And now, he’d carry Haemin.

Through everything.

🌿 Hidden Spring had become a blooming garden.

And the boy who once hid his fear under a hoodie now wore joy like sunlight.

Not hidden anymore.

Never again.