Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being trapped inside the tall bay windows on the highest floor of the building often reminded Yoongi of a glass cage, perfectly enclosing whichever precious object would be fragile enough to be, ironically so, protected by glass. It wasn't like it made any sense to him, it wasn't any safer nor helped pretend the world outside was any less hostile and yet, he often marveled at the view the glass would still allow in. The sun rays shining through the heavy draped curtains, the bottoms of clouds near enough it looked as though he could reach and touch them. 

Fragile as it was, the world outside wasn't any dimmer, just a constant reminder that it wasn't allowed in. The limits couldn't be breached. 

And he was fine with that. He remembered, dropping the teaspoon in his cup after mixing absentmindedly for what must have been at least five minutes. He ripped his own eyes away from the greyish clouds, the stormy landscape somewhat serene, and pushed his way through the living room. Mindful of the few steps down, the uneven laying of the rug he still had to fix, the books and notepads and music sheets in which he'd sketch but seldom continue on because that's just how the creative process works. The infirmary paraphernalia he had yet to pick up, the empty pill bottles. All that was the furnishings of their glass cage. 

He entered Seokjin's room in silence, hot cup of tea on one hand as he made his way to the lava lamp beside the bookcase, his only source of light to the otherwise completely dark room, blackout curtains still down even past noon. A habit, now. 

A lumpy form under the sheets barely stirred in the dimly lit room, patches of color from the lamp dancing over the milky white skin of the bare arm laying over the blanket. Yoongi just layed carefully beside it, back against the headboard, mindful of his teacup. 

"Mm." A groan, the rustle of the sheets. "Awake." Said in the sleepiest voice he could manage. Vibrant still, intentionally positive. 

Yoongi took a tentative sip from the hot beverage, only staring at the air purifier fuming past the end of the bed. 

"'M awake. Good morning." Seokjin slurred in the lack of an answer after a few moments, movement going on in the corners of Yoongi's vision. Stretching, scratching at a side of his head. An eye. 

Yoongi hummed. 

"'Morning". 

"Mm." Seokjin stretched a little more, a content sigh being purposefully dragged out before settling. "What time is it? Too late for breakfast?" 

"There's egg bread if you want some." Not really answering his question, Yoongi let the warm tea awake his mind. Time was a concept they'd lost track of a while back, too preoccupied by other matters to actually check in on normal sleeping schedules or eating habits. 

"Ooh, sounds good. Feels like it's been ages since I've had something to eat." Seokjin complains half-heartedly, as he always does. But it's not really moody nor fretful as it is playful, a good sign. A teasing Seokjin is a Seokjin Yoongi can deal with, without having to be extra careful or worried enough to keep Seokjin's manager on speed dial, just in case. "It's the only bad thing about this, you know? Dinner's been forever ago." 

They didn't have dinner last night, Yoongi remembers. He takes another sip from his tea. Seokjin fell asleep before he could start chopping the green onions for the bulgogi he had so heartfully begged him for, but he's not going against that thought. 

"One to ten?" He asks instead. 

"Mm. A comfortable three. My sight's still a little sore." Seokjin easily answers though, a gleam in his tone Yoongi can't help but feel a little relieved about. He still checks his side though, Seokjin's recently awakened form now facing the roof, but half his face covered under one lazily sprawled over arm, eyes hidden beneath. 

On previous times, this easy interchange wouldn't have been possible at all between a too - apparently - prodding Yoongi and a stubborn Seokjin behind his 'I can perfectly manage' facade. Times have made Yoongi learn how to treat his way around it though, how to tip-toe around the subject when it was due, when to be straight-forward to cut through Seokjin's bullshit, and such. And although he was originally the only one Seokjin had allowed in, the only one he would trust with the more delicate details, the only one he knew to get the perfect amount of comfort and space - it still took them some time to grow accustomed to this new reality, the glass cage. But Yoongi grew inside his skin as much as Seokjin grew inside Yoongi's, and he could perfectly keep up with an 'I've been better but hey, I can still joke around' Seokjin. 

So, that was the secret to their dynamic. Respecting each other's boundaries, being truthful to each other, no suffocating or unnecessary questions, no overprotecting. 

"What are you up to today?" Seokjin asks after a moment, conversationally. Casual. Yoongi could be fooled, but plays around anyways. 

"I might be heading for the studio later on." He half-smiles into his cup when Seokjin stirs, interested. It somewhat fades quickly, though. "I can't take you out on a three, though." 

Seokjin groans, dropping his arm to the side. Yoongi can feel the glare setting on him, even through the still pretty dark room. "Why not? I've had worse. We've had worse. I can absolutely run on a three." His voice sounds akin to that of a toddler's in distress, no intentions of actually going against his word. Which is, also, something they had to grow into. "And it's only a three because you keep insisting I should round it up higher than it actually is. And because of these. But a pair of sunglasses should do just fine." 

Yoongi knows he's referring to his eyes, so he doesn't check. Instead he scoffs, not even mulling it over in his head. "I'll think about it if you get past the living room, maybe." 

Seokjin gasps. "Seriously? I knew there was a way out! I'm going to show you Yoongi-ah, just how unbothered I am by that." 

"Really?" He hums, only partly amused. 

"Mhm. I have to get to that egg bread before I starve to death anyways. So." Only a moment of silence follows, Yoongi sipping the remnants of his tea with decreasing interest. Seokjin stirs, mumbles and groans as he slowly sits up on the bed, back never fully straightening up, not even with his arms supporting his weight over the sheets. It seems as though he remains hunched in over himself ever since it started, and Yoongi is yet to mention it to him, thinks it wouldn't make things better anyway. 

He now does stare at him, at how he hangs his head low, eyes closed. Just barely checking him out from afar, as to not disturb his space and the quiet agreement they settled for. 

"I haven't really been doing much these last few days, you know?" Seokjin says, tone a little less bright, eyes still closed. "And it's not like I can do much from here, besides trying- and failing to write. If I don't get some work done I'll- I'd-"

And Yoongi knows, so he sighs. That's part of their agreement. Because they know each other pretty well. The best, probably. Out of all of them. The eternal roommates. He knows how Seokjin works, even beyond that play of being the funniest, the most appealing looking one, the easy-going, unbothered one. Seokjin works hard above and beyond all these, has owned his way into fame, into recognition. He isn't someone beyond his artistry, his contribution to the band, to their music and to their jobs, and it is intrinsic to his well-being that he can still perform, can still keep up somewhat of a useful active part inside of these as much as anyone else. And Yoongi is a workaholic himself, so he knows, he understands. 

At least he thinks he does. 

---

Namjoon scoffs, fondly staring at the screen as he weirdly cuddles up to his side. 

"You guys really went crazy out there. I don't know where you're getting all this energy from, but it surely is something worth admiring." He pointedly shakes his head, an entertained grin splitting his face apart as he scrolls past the video of a dancing Hoseok, after making sure Yoongi's taking a good look at it. Yoongi has. Several times. Even in between his tight schedule, concerts, the suchwita videos, etc. His coworkers shining through media, being showered in praise, always find a way to him. 

He hums instead, distantly mindful of the space Namjoon's come to occupy beside him with the false pretext of  showing his phone over to him. Years of distance have made havoc among them, not in the way shows of affection have become too rare to uphold, but in the way most of them have been touchier than usual. And Yoongi can't blame them, really. He doesn't particularly know what they've been through during military service, and he is also decidedly not pushing to know, but he hopes he can convey comfort and calmness through being his usual cold, a little balky self. 

"I mean, I don't know. I wouldn't be able to hop on the stage on my own. I can barely handle the studio by myself, so imagine." 

"That's not true. You've been putting a whole lot of work there." He tries to be reassuring, although not keen on over-doing it. Namjoon smiles gratefully, so it works, but suddenly shows his phone again to him, like his smile was actually directed to another one of this very opportune videos. 

"Look at this guy here. An encore and all, shit. I should have seen it coming when he showed up post-military with a bunch of first drafts under his arm, but damn." 

His phone showcases one of Seokjin's last concerts, a video too stable and high quality to be a fancam like the ones he's used to seeing from when they were still all performing together. He guesses technology keeps going, so there's that. 

Besides that Seokjin seems content, so at ease it amazes him even. Like he wasn't even thinking about how nobody else was on stage with him, then. Yoongi doesn't need to see it again, he saw it live. He was there, sat besides an equally introverted - or crowd-avoidant - Jungkook, amazed at how energetic the whole thing was for a one-man-show. 

He let himself take a glimpse at Namjoon's face, above the phone. He was looking adoringly down at the screen, proudly so. He knew he was, after all. Yoongi felt proud too, content for his partners triumphs. He knew though, that they would all be taking different ways while away, and although his was exciting, an almost exhilarating ride, a permit to focus on his own music and to find his own sound, etc - little things seemed more exciting for him, now, than the prospect of reuniting, finally. Of getting to do all those things, together, again. 

Maybe that's the longing he could find in Namjoon's face at the moment. Nothing beyond pride, gratitude, recognition. But slight longing. 

They reached the building they were all meeting in, stepping down the vehicle with mild awareness of their surroundings. This area was normally pretty quiet, fitted Seokjin's way of living quite well, although he would seldom actually inhabit the apartment, lately often times away, what with tour, recordings and such. So they went up to his door with almost no inconveniences.

"Ooh, it was actually you! I win again!" A sweet grinning Taehyung meets them behind the opening doors, already in cozy yet perfectly styled clothes, hair going neatly with the fit. His eyes turn into half-moons when Namjoon wolf-whistles. 

"Okay, Celine-man, were you expecting anyone else?" They engulf each other in a hug as Yoongi rolls his eyes, helplessly letting himself be drawn by the familiar nature of it, the warm teasing, the contagious smiles. 

"Hobi was saying Jimin and Jungkook were next, but I was sure Yoongi-hyung wasn't letting you be late." A glance is sent his way as he registers past the duo, a sitting Hobi slowly standing up with a matching, huge grin. 

Yoongi scoffed, amusedly. 

"Well you're welcome, I guess." 

He steps in after them and gets hugged by each, after them. They've seen each other not long ago. Namjoon and Taehyung meet almost religiously at the gym, Hobi's been a little busy but he's always managed to be around and present, even if it's only through texts. They've all seen each other after Seokjin's encore anyways, two or three weeks prior. So it's not a big deal, and still, somehow, it is. 

"Hyung." He says as a greeting when he's finally let off to step into the kitchen, finding a strongly focused but virtuously moving Seokjin battling with pans and skillets, and he half-smiles while he perches up on the kitchen island, Seokjin only mildly skimping a beat before he's beaming. 

"Ah, Yoongi-ah! Welcome, welcome. Hope you brought the wine?" Is enough of a greeting, seeing he's busy. And Seokjin isn't actually a hugging person, and Yoongi isn't a hugging person either, so normally, they're okay with greeting from afar. Physical contact isn't necessary to prove you care for someone, or so Yoongi thinks. 

He frowns, though. "The wine?" He thinks back to a thread of messages he might have went by, an instruction he's missed. "I didn't thought to bring any." 

"Ah, Yoongi-ah!" Seokjin repeats, but this time it's a whine. Yoongi wants to protest, defend himself, until Namjoon steps in after him, proudly holding a bottle of expensive chardonnay before him like a trophy. One look at him has Seokjin beaming again, relieved. Something else on his expression. Namjoon's too. Ah. "Ah, what would we do without your incredible, all-knowing mind?" 

Yoongi glares at the both of them. 

"Clearly there's something you haven't been communicating to the rest of us." He's sure he hasn't missed any messages on the group chat. He's been actively trying to participate and not ignore the few texts he honestly often times doesn't find in himself the need to answer. He's been getting better, so. 

"Mm?" Seokjin's been a little lost in the kimchi he's preparing, a lost fond smile on his face as Namjoon just kind of manages around, entering the kitchen to get ice and glasses. "Oh, that's just so we can toast. A lot of important things are coming up. I thought we'd better get a good, positive review of everything so far while we're at it." 

"Right, sure." 

Jungkook and Jimin eventually show up, running late. But that's alright, because dinner isn't ready yet by the time they do arrive, although Seokjin whines and complains about them not giving his plans enough notice to show up on time, and even beyond how adamant he is on refusing any sort of help any of them offer while on the wait. 

So in the meantime, they settle around the dining table, sipping some other alcoholic beverage Hobi's brought from who knows where as an entry. The ambience smells wonderful, and it takes Yoongi to previous times. Back in the dorms, Seokjin cooking for the lot of them, while they laughed and replayed all the little shenanigans that would always startle a giggle out of them, all in the name of memory and nostalgia. It feels different but so naturally familiar it settles warmly over his heart: things have changed and time has passed, and yet, here they are. 

Seokjin rounds up the table with the last tray of food, eyes filled with that gleam of expectancy, like a puppy waiting to be rewarded for acting right, and Yoongi knows he'll start whining if nobody does so, so he purposefully jokes about how they shouldn't say thank you until they're done with their food. He gets a glare out of Seokjin at the same time he laughs, and it pretty much sums up everything he's known about them, for years. 

It's only after they've stuffed their faces with Seokjin's homemade food that conversation eases into something slower, peaceful. 

"Will we go back to this once we're back on tour?" Jimin amusedly asks as laughter dies down, a few coughs and hiccups along with it. Yoongi lays back on his chair, full, sated.

"I doubt we'll have time to cook at all." Hobi reminds them, almost sternly. Like he's letting them know, they'll have to work hard for it. 

A good comeback. 

"Don't you kind of miss it, though?" Jungkook goes, a little more serious. Wide-eyed, almost like his younger version. "Not having enough free time, I mean." 

Yoongi snorts. "You miss being exploited?" 

"I miss being busy. Having something to work on, you know?" He shrugs one shoulder up. 

"There's always something to work on, Jungkookie." Seokjin softly reminds him, but Yoongi thinks he catches a different tone on it, something worryingly. He lets it slide, though.

Jimin grins. "Don't mind my friend here. He's just not sufficiently employed." He jokes, one hand on Jungkook's shoulder until he shrugs it off with a resigned smile. 

"I get it, though. It's one thing to have some events to attend to, or something to record. But it's something entirely different, being on tour." Taehyung continues with, distractedly, as Yoongi ponders it silently. "I like, you know. The fashion shows. The free time. But I miss making music, being on stage, with you. It sort of comes down to that." 

"We all do, I assume." Namjoon speaks up, regarding the entire group. Which means Yoongi can lay back and listen silently again. Leave the deep thoughts to the main guy. "But we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. There's so much to work on, and we still have no dates set. There's no need to rush, or get too hyped up about it." 

If he were to speak up, he'd agree. So there's no need. 

"Time's ticking, though." Hobi says, tone as serious and leveled as the rest. It isn't any less soft than Namjoon's, but there's an edge to it, and Yoongi's slightly taken aback. He understands, though. "There's a standard we've set, what people will expect, and we're not getting any younger, in terms of... performing on stage, dancing. There's so much to work on, so we can all get back on track." 

It isn't a negative look on it as it is realistic, and it's solemn, too. A few seconds of silence fall upon them, of expectation, impatience, fear and excitement, all mixed. Seokjin's chair scratches back as he stands up, couching slightly before he's starting to pick everything up. Yoongi notices he's weirdly silent, but instead of commenting on it, he makes the intent of helping him. 

"Leave it, it's fine, hyung will do it." Seokjin says immediately, taking the plate off his hands. But it's pushing it a little, almost hastily. "I'm the host, right?" He disappears into the kitchen with a tray of empty dishes and cutlery. 

Namjoon puts his hands together to end the long lasting moment of silence, decidedly grinning at them again. "Okay, perfect time for a toast?" He sends one wild look at Jimin before he gets it, standing up excitedly along him to help. 

He snorts after a moment, pensively fumbling with a tissue that's remained by him on the table. 

"'Time's ticking', Hobi-ah?" It startles a laugh out of Hobi, loud and high-pitched. "I mean, I know we're older, but." 

"I mean it from personal experience! Lately, dancing on stage has been, to me, a little..." 

"As if!" Taehyung complains as Jungkook snorts, too. "If it's been hard for you hyung, then..." 

"That's what I mean!" 

"He's lying." Jungkook says. A smirk on his face, as he half-heartedly makes a lazy representation of Hobi's famous KIG choreo, Taehyung immediately jumping on it, Hobi hiding behind some nervous laughter. Yoongi can only laugh at them, with them, avoiding his own thoughts carrying on from the conversation. 

Jimin and Namjoon return with the bottle of chardonnay and enough glasses for all of them.

"The only thing I really miss," Jimin says as he takes over - clearly not letting the task to the clumsiest one - and pours them all a glass, pointedly raising one filled with the bubbly liquid, "is drinking with you." 

"Mm, inspiring." 

"Ooh, here's to that!" Taehyung crashes his glass to Jimin's raised one, almost immediately mirroring each other to take a swig. Seokjin comes back with a whine.

"Hey, don't drink yet! That's not why we're toasting." 

They both giggle, stopping only a few milimeters away from their glasses, as Seokjin hurries back to his chair. He seems nervous. His fingers are twitching, his side smile wavering over his lips. 

Yoongi thinks back to the bottle Namjoon brought with himself, the way only he knew to take one. The way he managed completely on his own in Seokjin's kitchen, the smile they both greeted each other with. No hugs or conventional displays of affection between two people that have supposedly miss each other, like Namjoon did to Taehyung or Hobi, something he'd likely do, normally. 

Seokjin hadn't given a reason to this little reunion yet. He smiles, a little inwardly. He thinks he can guess where this might be going, an announcement, something to share. He thinks they've been through this before. That one first time, he had no clue what was about to happen. But they tried doing what was right, coming out clean to the rest of them, even if it was something they could not share with anyone else besides close staff and family. It didn't work out then, but Seokjin and Namjoon kept it professional enough to not let their break up influence in their working lives. They barely noticed, too, when each thing happened. They're not particularly fond of PDA, their fall so private Yoongi only found out months later while on a drunken conversation with Namjoon. He lamented how things had gotten complicated even before Seokjin went away, how little faith they had in the whole 'long distance relationship', and how, supposedly, Seokjin hadn't seem keen to try. 

But Yoongi knew they'd round back to each other like it was bound to happen. Not because he believes in real love or anything of the sort, in fact, they aren't necessarily the example of it, to him. But they try, they work hard to keep things going, alive and well, mindful of the circumstances, careful to detail, like they are with everything else. So he is happy for them. 

He sighs, teasing. "What are we celebrating, then?" 

Seokjin takes a look at him, something nervous, deeply disturbing. Yoongi would like to mock him a little more, but Seokjin stutters. 

"Not a celebration. Or, I mean, I guess not." He shrugs one shoulder up, eyes kept on him almost unblinking. "You can make that decision by yourselves, though." He intends to joke, apparently, but it's forced. 

He's gotten everyone's attention, clearly, all of them sitted back at the table with their respective drinks, a sense of suspense hanging in the air as he looks around. But it weirdly feels too thick, too heavy, as Seokjin's nervousness doesn't disappear. His ears don't turn pink the way they did that first time they came out to them, and Namjoon isn't sending a accomplice look over to him and taking over on calmer words like he did. Yoongi's smile slowly falters. 

Seokjin stretches his sweater paws over his hands, trembling a little, an amused smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

"So, there's good and bad news. Which do you want first?" 

Jimin confusedly snorts, Jungkook stares expectantly with doe-like eyes, Namjoon frowns from across the table. 

He frowns. 

"Something wrong, hyung?" Hobi asks, worried now, too. 

"Well," Seokjin starts, but stops. He tries for a different, approach, nervous smile turning into a full-on grin. "Yeah. I know we've waited a lot for this comeback. I know you all want to do this." He pointedly stares at them all, big facial expressions. Yoongi sort of knows that face. Although time has passed and yeah, maybe, they're not the closest to each other, but he knows he tends to hold this facade in front of him. Laughter and bad-jokes are sort of his coping mechanism, his way to push through serious and tense moments. His forced smile, Yoongi understands, in this case, only makes things worse. 

He isn't aware if they have the same effect over the other, if they know, or if it works. Seokjin still tries, though. 

"But I need more time." He swallows down his smile, like he needs to try to refrain from this impulse, this need to put on a smile and pretend. Yoongi frowns, and sincerely waits for him to continue. "I know it's very selfish of me to ask for this, but." Seokjin looks wide-eyed into his eyes, and then travels across the table, seeming to look for some understanding, although he hasn't said anything yet. "I need us to wait for some more time, maybe... a year or two more." 

"A year or two?" Jungkook starts up first, instantly taken aback. Yoongi's confused, too, but doesn't want to jump to conclusions. He thinks he'll give Seokjin the benefit of the doubt, give him time to explain himself, but the words fall heavily on his stomach. For whatever reason he has, he understands the nervousness. He thinks the timing's not right. 

"Yeah. Mm, hopefully it'll only be six months, or- or something like that, but I really can't tell." 

Hobi shakes his head after a moment of silence, decidedly asking what everyone's wondering. "Why?" 

Yoongi can tell they're a little caught off guard, and yet, nobody's reacting badly. At least not yet. But the timing's just - not right. Seokjin's just finished his own solo tour - and encore, even. To propose this now, to suggest he can't go on stage with them now, it's. He surely has a reason. 

Seokjin hides his hands in his sweater, takes them under his armpits, hugs himself, untangles. He forcefully smiles again. 

"Um, after Incheon, I had to visit a doctor." He starts, and his stomach flattens in on itself. Whatever's been seating on it starts to feel heavier, and heavier. "I was having trouble - um, while performing, or on rehearsals, like running out of breath and - stuff like that. I thought maybe I was just getting older, you know? Our Hobi-ah is right, it's not easy. We're to blame for pushing the stakes up so high, right?" 

He looks for validation in Hobi's direction, but his features have changed completely from the last, almost defensive look he'd sent along with his question, to this worried one. 

"Jin-hyung, what are you talking about?"

Seokjin's smile widens a little. "I mean, it was partly because I'm old but also - they did some studies, and as it turns out, I'm kind of sick." He hurriedly says, and it's uncomfortable, it's weird, he's let it out but definitely not as he'd planned, and Yoongi frowns at him. "Like, nothing terminal or anything. So that's the good news! But also, the bad ones. I'm getting treated, and I've been... banned from any physical exercise until it gets better." 

"What do...?" Namjoon starts, but stops and shakes his head when they turn to look at him. He looks out of words. Did he not knew? Did Yoongi read the entire situation wrong? "How sick? Like, what is it?" 

"It's called sarcoidosis, um. It can be treated, but it takes times until I can actually sort of - live normally, and until then there's many things I need to be careful about, mostly so it doesn't get worse but also because I probably won't be able to physically do them, so." 

It's bricks. That's what's settled over his stomach. This is absolutely not what he was expecting. 

"Oh, hyung." Jimin says, sympathetically, but it sums up how they're all, probably, feeling about it. Seokjin laughs, shakes his head. 

"It's nothing to worry about, honestly. Problem is that everyone's sort of already pulled this idea that we're coming back next year, and if I tell the staff that I need time, that I won't make it, chances are that they'll just-" He stops himself. 

"We wouldn't go on without you, hyung." Taehyung is quick to finish up for him. And then. 

Understatement finally seems to fall over all of them. 

"But I get that we've been away for so long, I get if you guys want to come back." Seokjin says, and no try at some faked amusement is being held anymore. Instead, he's eased onto a gentler, almost sorrowful smile. "I felt it when I went back onstage the first time. And I was alone, even - I couldn't stop thinking about coming back, with you guys. But I've been working so hard, I promise, just to catch up, and now it's like... I can't really..."

Yoongi can't believe what he's seeing. Seokjin isn't about to cry, he looks far from it, really, but the moment would actually allow it. He'd get a free pass to do so, if he wanted to. He won't though, he knows he won't. But slowly he realizes the reality of the moment allows it. 

"Okay, wow, okay." Namjoon says after everyone remains pretty quiet. Jungkook continues to stare wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape at Seokjin like the news have personally struck him. Taehyung's looking at his feet like he doesn't understand, Jimin and Hobi just stare empathically his way. He thinks that's not the reaction Seokjin probably intended. So he refrains himself for showing sympathy and sorrow in that exact way, but as he tries to think what would be okay for him, how to help, he thinks back to his words. What it all means. "No. Of course we're taking time. As much as you need." He states, with both hands raised, like he's trying to assess the situation. "But let's - just forget about the comeback. We need to like, actually talk about this." 

Seokjin sighs, deflates. "Sure." 

Chardonnay completely forgotten - it's entire involvement pretty much meaningless, if Yoongi thinks about it - they move over to the living room, all of them sprawled over the different couches and cushions Seokjin likes to maintain as neatly as possible. It's comfortable and something worth teasing him for - 'Oh hyung, we're allowed in now? But I'm in my street clothes!' - but nobody does. Everything feels tense. This isn't what he was expecting at all. 

He watches Seokjin sat by the fairly small, private window, resting on the arm of the chair. He's slightly hunched in on himself. Maybe looks a little paler than usual, but he's always been quite pale, so isn't it hard to tell? And he looks skinnier than he's been ever since his return, but also, not as skinny as he used to be before his departure, so. And yet, Yoongi should've probably noticed. Somebody should. How come they're only now finding out about this. 

Taehyung's googled the condition's name to get instructed while they're settling down, glaring at the screen of his phone in full concentration. Jimin, by his side, seems too rattled to check for himself. 

"Is it a diagnosis already?" Hobi asks first, elbows on his knees, his entire torso almost parallel to the ground. For a normally laughing man, he looks sick. 

Seokjin fumbles with his hands. "Yeah. I had a biopsy done and my doctor was a hundred percent sure about the results. I mean, it could have been worse." 

Namjoon sort of wanders by the door, standing on his feet, scratching at his chin. Yoongi's fingers tap the arm of the loveseat he's in. 

"What's the treatment like?" 

"Pills, weekly check-ups. Not much more. Um, therapy sessions with vaporizers, if needed." 

Hobi's eyebrows shoot up. "If needed?" 

"Yeah. The getting out of breath and such, it's a recurrent symptom. Normally I can go around perfectly fine, but it's hard to dance... and sing." 

Yoongi realizes he's been oddly quiet. Seokjin's eyes fall on him, and he quickly averts his own. He doesn't want to prod. He knows it must be uncomfortable for him, right now, to be assessed to this extent, with this much fierce. It's unavoidable though, so he returns his eyes to him. 

Taehyung inhales deeply, finally looking up from his phone. 

"Are you in pain, hyung?" 

Seokjin squirms. "Not really. It's manageable." 

He blinks hard, instinctively, like a tick he's always had. Yoongi sees through it. 

He sits up a little on the spot, stops his fingers from the nervous tapping. "What else does it say?" He shoots one glance over to Taehyung. 

As a response, he sighs, frowning deeply. "There's a lot. But it depends on every patient, it says, it's different on each person." He hopelessly scrolls through the screen. "Chest pain, rashes, headaches, shortness of breath, fatigue, fever, muscular pain." 

"Okay." Seokjin whines, high-pitched, promptly stopping him. He tries for teasing. "Obviously I don't have all of those. You know, Google is the most fatidical search engine we could use right now." 

"Jin-hyung." Jungkook speaks up, calling for his attention. Seokjin sends him an entertained smile that easily falters. "What do you feel now?" 

"I feel pretty normal today. I do have some rashes on my legs that I'm trying really hard to ignore because they're itching like a- but otherwise, I'm fine." Seokjin placates them with his hands over to them, but it doesn't work at all. His humored attempts are also futile. No faked smiles last for long on his face. Yoongi feels sorry for him, on two different reasons, now. 

Taehyung sighs deeply before he's stuffing his phone in his pocket, sight decidedly avoiding everyone, and he knows it's bad. Jimin looks between him and Seokjin and then Yoongi, and asks something silently, like permission. He finds himself shaking his head 'no' to whatever question he thinks he gets. 

"Guys, seriously. It's not that bad." Seokjin tries again, at least this time around, he abandons the idea of trying for a joke or a grin all completely. "But I am basically banned from any sort of physical involvements. I can and will keep working from the studio, recording or whatever I can do, so we don't need to go radio silent or anything of that sort." 

Yoongi thinks it is, actually, that bad. He thinks this is the last thing he was expecting, the last thing he'd want. He was proud of how well everyone was doing. Seokjin specially, looked to be thriving. He was happy for him. Proud. Now this hits like not a glass, but a full twenty liters of frozen water dumped on him. 

And worse, this is Seokjin they're talking about. He saw the fancams of him swallowing down his tears onstage because he dreads the idea of being seen suffering, the Seokjin who would turn up to their shared bedroom on their rookie years, struggling, unhappy, overworked, would turn silent and respect Yoongi's space, presence and company as much as he'd silently asked to be respected back. And would put on a smile by the following day, cook breakfast and make everyone laugh with the silliest things so nobody had to worry. 

Maybe if somebody were to have greater access to that hidden version of him was Yoongi, as his age was the closest one, as they'd been roomates, as Yoongi was sort of the same - emotionally constipated, reserved and private on the things that mattered the most - and as they understood each other, on a different level. Even if, at a simple glance, they seemed like total opposites. But finding out about this duality so early on, as they met, Yoongi often times found Seokjin recurring to him when something was off, something itching so deeply within him he could no longer pretend like it wasn't there, ignore and dig it deeper until it went away. He often times gave advice to an emotionally weak Seokjin, as far as he'd allowed to show, and often times he found himself doing the same. Because for all the childlike antiques Seokjin normally likes to show, he's the trustworthy, mature type that can and will keep a secret and for that Yoongi has always been grateful. 

But this, right here, is a little shocking, too. Because how come, after all, he's just finding out about this?

"And the bad news?" He asks, pondering his words before he goes with it, because why the hell not. If he's deflated Jimin's idea of rushing over to comfort him is because he knows pity is the last thing Seokjin would want right now. And he breaks the silence, because he can bet he feels inspected, ripped open in front of everyone to see. And it startles a lazy half-smile out of him, so. 

"We have enough time to second-guess any decision we've made on the album. Just enough to turn crazy and miss over-working ourselves to death." Seokjin doesn't miss a beat, gratefully following along. 

Yoongi sighs, not really in him to laugh or fake a smile. His features don't seem to be reacting as he tells them to, but it works for now. Actions, let it be, instead. He stands up from the chair like it's hard, with a huff. "Then I'll get our glasses before that chardonnay gets wasted".

He thinks he finally realizes the drink's intended utility. A silent agreement: we'll deal with this, but for now, let's drink and act normal, and hopefully everything will be normal quick enough.

---

Seven months later.

Seokjin drops the spoon inside of the bowl, yogurt splashing over the back of the couch. It's that weird, greasy one he's growing into because it's supposedly so much healthier and a whole lot more convenient given the situation. And 'it's so nice Yoongi-ah, when you mix it with fruits and cereals, it's exactly what they used to have in Ancient Greece!', which he can't seem to care about, at all.

"Mm, we should make a groupchat with all of us in it except for Jimin, you know? Firstly because he sucks in that game, so he won't be able to join. And also because it would be just so funny, don't you think it will be funny? Do you think he'll laugh?" 

Yoongi writes down something on his notepad, scribbling on the paper like it'll somehow make his schedule less tight. He's got more recording to do before the weekend catches up to him again. Namjoon and him need to meet one of their producers at the studio in two days from now, and the release date to their album is just around the corner, so. He won't check this makeshift calendar later on, but writing it down somehow helps it settle on his memory. 

"He'll probably cry himself to sleep." He responds, almost absent-mindedly. 

"Oh, then maybe we shouldn't. Not the best idea, I guess." Seokjin pops another mouthful of his dessert right into his mouth, then drops the spoon in again. "But, we should make an intervention. Sit him down and explain the basics of gameplay and comradery and see if he can finally play without leaving his teammates behind." 

Yoongi snorts. "What about being patient to the littler ones?" 

"I've been patient!" Seokjin gasps, scandalized. Promptly, he coughs, wheezing for a few seconds before he gets back on track. "He's made me lose my entire rank. It's because of him I had to set a new account. It was so embarrassing to be seen by the ones who knew me in my golden age, in such a state of decadence." He shakes his head vehemently. Yoongi stops scribbling for a moment, staring at Seokjin to his side. He's sitting cross-legged facing him, like the yogurt he's splashing around is intended completely to be thrown into his direction. 

"And how would you plan this intervention, then? We're not hosting any more parties here." 

Seokjin scoffs immediately. "You antisocial hermit. This place is huge enough to have the entirety of the K-pop scene over and you complain because I wanted a tea party with our own teammates like, twice." 

"That's not what I complained for." Yoongi mumbles, bemused. 

"Ah, Yoongi-ah!" Seokjin whines, jumps slightly on the spot. "Quit complaining. We'll have everyone over, like it or not, okay?" 

Seokjin's phone starts buzzing where it lays abandoned on the coffee table, between the varying amount of clutter Yoongi has yet to pick up. The screen lights up momentarily, Namjoon's contact image showing up before it's gone again, and it brings no more reactions from Seokjin than he'd expect. 

He waits a few seconds before he asks. 

"Are you still ignoring him?" 

Seokjin shrugs, he sees by the corner of his eye. 

"He's worried about you." He continues on, dutifully, solemnly. 

He gets another shrug as an answer. 

"He does weird shit under the name of 'worry'." He speaks around a mouthful, and Yoongi takes the pass. He lets it be. Normally doesn't like interfering, and if he can go by unannounced, the better for him. "Besides, I'm not ignoring him. He's on my team." 

Yoongi scoffs, again. "Maybe that's why you're losing." 

Seokjin laughs at that, sincerely. 

Yoongi finishes up his notes, idly scribbling at the edges or putting little summaries he knows he won't look at twice. He needed the reminder, though. Needed the visualization, the entirety of the things he can't fancy forgetting about. 

Seokjin goes to stand up when he's finished his dessert, but Yoongi's reflexes kick in faster, and he takes the bowl before Seokjin can go any further. He takes advantage of the trip to take anything else he can from the coffee table and lets everything rinse under the faucet for a couple of minutes. By the time he makes his way back Seokjin's turned on the TV, navigating through some streaming platform Yoongi's not particularly fond of. 

He sits back down beside him.

"What are we watching today?" 

Seokjin hums, mindlessly scratching at his thigh over his pajamas. "There's this great show about an almost bizarre B&B and its handsome host, maybe you'd like - sorry." He cuts the joke off when he realizes he's been scratching, takes his hand away after a quick apologetic glance at Yoongi, and returns to the screen. "Anyways, I thought it would be fun to watch." 

"You meant employee, there." 

"Sorry?" 

"You meant, 'handsome employee'." He corrects, again, amused. He lets the scratching incident slide. It's unconscious. He knows by now. He refrains from commenting on it now, when it happens. He avoids interfering with physical contact. Otherwise it would be like - smothering him. 

"Ah, no. I'm actually into Kian." 

They settle in to watch some other reality show where Seokjin doesn't need to be constantly gushing over his own looks. They get through an episode and a half, before Yoongi starts noticing the telltale signs: restless legs, shifting every now and then, under his weight, over the coffee table. The constant aborted attempts at scratching over the fabric, panicking for being potentially noticed, frustratingly not being able to do much more. Seokjin's posture only worsens, gradually hunching in more over himself until his head is weirdly positioned over the back of the couch.

He pauses the chapter right when the main girl is about to choose who she'd like to have a date with, and Seokjin doesn't seem to mind. 

"One to ten?" He asks, direct, simple. 

Seokjin sighs tiredly before he actually answers. "Five. Five and a half?" 

"There's no 'and a half's. That's a six." 

"Five then. Only five." 

Yoongi turns the TV off then, the lights out. It's barely seven in the afternoon, maybe eight, but then again, they're not really conscious of the time of day anymore. They sleep when they feel like it, eat when they're hungry, open and shut the curtains whenever they want to remember there's a world outside. Nobody really comes to knock at their door to scold them for disrespecting the socially conventions of time. Instead he helps Seokjin over to his bed, sets the lava lamp on because he's not necessarily that tired yet, or so he says. 

"Cut it." He gets through when needed, scolds - yeah, sometimes he does - Seokjin after he scratches for a few seconds on his bare ankle and doesn't quit by himself. Seokjin seems sheepish, but scoffs after a moment, turning away. "Did you put on that weird lotion today?" 

"The one that smells like burnt rubber and mint?" He asks as an answer, but he's already stretching over to his bedside table, pulling open the drawer slowly and producing the can of lotion. He sighs as he settles back on the covers, and Yoongi sort of just stares for a second. At least laying down he doesn't look so hunched in on himself, so much thinner, paler, than the Seokjin he knows. Either way, he shoots one smile up to him. "Help?" 

Yoongi fakes and dramatizes the version of a whine mixed with a resigned huff as he can manage, and takes the lotion anyway. He settles beside Seokjin's legs, decidedly not facing him. Thankfully, the pajamas are wide enough to slide up over his thin legs, and Yoongi doesn't react when he sees patches of white skin struggling to survive to the raging red spotting that takes most of the area. It's not as dirt looking as he knows it can get, these ones not really old and uncared for enough to have become raw skin splotched with blood. So he starts carefully lathering the skin with the lotion, slightly warming it up between his fingers before he does so. 

He knows this is sort of intimate. He knows this takes - and took - so much work, so much confidence. He never thought they'd get to this point, but the weight of reality shook him to his very core only a few months after they moved in together. And it really wasn't like he expected them to be vibrant and carefree when they did. Obviously, originally, he knew what he was getting himself into: Seokjin was sick, and no matter how much they tried, nobody knew how long it would take for him to recover fully. Six months? Two years? Never? Nonetheless, they'd wait. They had promised each other a way long while back that they wouldn't fall apart, that their group was a seven-parts working machine and would rather be stopped completely than go on without one of its parts.

Yet, their intention wasn't to stop it. They had to go on. And Seokjin had tried, really tried, to manage on his own. The first part of his treatment he spent with his family, close friends, his manager. He was well attended to, but something was missing. Seokjin had, ever since coming back from the military, been the most employed person on planet EarthTM, and consequently got accustomed to that. Jumping from that highly demanding routine to whatever he had done back home had affected him so badly he begged the company to allow him something to do. 

Problem was that, however delayed the tour and comeback could be, BTS still had to run. They had to exist, still. And so they could keep producing, writing, recording, etc. Sometimes they'd even accept interviews, or recordings of videos. They tried jumping back on Run BTS but that was, a different matter completely. Point is, that by then, the producers found a way to involve Seokjin without overstepping his doctor's very strict set of rules. Among them, one very important aspect was the living: Seokjin couldn't be on his own. And dragging family along was not an option, and having staff over was impersonal - and generally depressing, Seokjin had said - and somehow it all just fell down to them. The eternal roommates, comprehensive of each other, their limits, their personal spaces, rights and wrongs. Not even Namjoon had liven up to the expectations. Yoongi tried to remind himself that.

And really, he chose it. It was his idea. He told Seokjin he'd help. He never thought he'd end up putting lotion over the rashes on his legs, but he originally had meant to help. Because nobody could really understand, the need to take care for one's health, but also, the surge to keep being someone, having as normal of a life as possible. The need to do something, to work, to keep creating, producing, practicing, etc. Yoongi understood this. He'd die underwhelmed if he'd have to seclude back to his hometown and refrain from making music for god knows how long. He understands.

He can tell the moment it actually soothes the itching, the pain. Only when he's covered all the red spots fully Seokjin's breathing is soft, even, the common slight wheezing sound he's come accustomed to still there, but it's almost a content sigh. The muscles in his legs aren't twitching in pain anymore, and he likes to help. Yoongi is relieved he gets to help. He chances a glance up. 

Seojin's eyelashes are peacefully caressing the skin over his high cheekbones, lips parted slightly as he breathes in, out. Yoongi gets happy when he sees him rest, when he takes at least a little of that pain away. He sort of wants to, touch, wants to be beaten by the desire to coddle him for a bit, but refrains. He holds back. He always holds back because, otherwise, it would be counterproductive. Jin wouldn't like it. And they'd made a lot of progress, so he holds back. 

He doesn't really say anything as he exits the room, not really sure if Seokjin's asleep or not, often times relaxation and slumber having very similar meanings and few discernible features in between. But he gets back to the notepad he left at the coffee table, and turns around some pages to some verses he's been writing lately. Creatively, he's been doing pretty well. Who knew being trapped inside a glass cage could make him become so in touch with his inner artist?

---

They hurry along a group of staff, hallways dimly lit in a sickly looking green led lighting. The narrow space matches their hasty walk, a sort of rush impulsed by this feeling of a adrenaline he hasn't felt in a while. Being here, from a third person experience, a part of the crowd, of the public - it's weird it's gotten to them just like this, but it's still equally as exciting. 

A few of their managers accompany them on their way. Yoongi chose not to tag his along, but Jungkook's right behind him, ushering them towards the back of the stage, to meet the band and the rest of the staff, and Seokjin. 

Of course, there's food when they get there, and a feeling of finality and ecstasy and climax like all of their shows had at the end, like Hoseok's did, like Yoongi's, too. Jimin and Taehyung are whining about an afterparty Seokjin was too uninterested to organize and Jungkook excitedly gets cozy with the appetizers table. 

"Oh, hyung!" Hoseok meets Seokjin with a hug, a huge smile on his face. "That was great! We almost didn't notice the fall!" He stares at him with round eyes and Seokjin's already laughing privately, shaking his head with a look of complicity. 

"I wish I could say the stage was slippery or something like that, but honestly, I don't know what happened. I panicked halfway through and started acting like I was just laying down." Seokjin starts giggling after that as Yoongi approaches them, and over the roar of a well-resoluted staff, pats his shoulder a few times. 

"We did notice, Hobi's lying. But you fell very gracefully." 

It does wonders to keep them laughing, Seokjin not bothered enough by it, only promptly hiding his red ears and avoiding eye contact. He's still a little breathless and sweaty. Hobi walks off to stop Jungkook from ravishing the entirety of the food by himself. The room is still very loud, the music playing to the crowd on their way out still ringing in through the walls. 

"Hey, did you like the concept? Do you think I could maybe push some of it onto Bangtan, when we come back?" Seokjin asks after a while, laughter subsiding, because normally he asks for Yoongi's advice or take before he makes a big call. He half-heartedly covers his mouth with his crooked fingers, but it's not like a secret or anything. They wouldn't mind getting heard by the rest of them. 

"The guessing game was kind of cheesy, but otherwise it wasn't that bad." He says, jokingly, although he thinks the roulette thing wasn't too practical. And there are many things he thinks only Seokjin could pull off. But. 

"Ah, come on Yoongi-ah... That's only because..." Seokjin starts coughing in between laughs, forever amused by whatever comeback he's come up with, whatever he hasn't shared yet. "you know... don't be boring." He stops himself to cough and take a step back, but they're both laughing. 

"Do you want some water?" He takes pity on him after a moment, but Seokjin shakes his head. 

"I still need to get changed and all that. I'll meet you guys back here." He exits the room after that, and Yoongi moves on to Namjoon speaking to someone from the band. He doesn't think much of it as they mingle about, but as time goes by Seokjin actually doesn't return and they all just leave after a moment, the feeling of the encore not quite enclosing what the end of an actual tour does - the afterparty, the feeling of success. The need to deliver all that excitement into some booze and loud music - so they all kind of part ways. And at the time, he guesses Seokjin's gone with Hobi, or Namjoon, or with his team, to celebrate, or whatever. Yoongi's more reserved, so he goes home, to rest. 

Only after a few months he comes back to it, reflecting. It makes sense then. 

---

He meets the dining room followed by the increasing volume of a heated argument, Jungkook and Hobi lashing out at each other about their favorite types of soju, all intertwined by Jimin's peaks of laughter. He finds the scene to be as amusing as it sounds, both Jungkook and Hobi hardly containing their laughter while the latter looks bewildered, pointing a finger at him accusingly. 

Yoongi counts them out, reminiscing on what's missing, before he walks into the kitchen. Their house looks a little less messy now that they're receiving visitors. Most of their clutter has gone out inside a few black garbage bags and honestly, Yoongi feels relieved he could get most of it out. And, although he insisted against it, Seokjin had helped too, energetic enough to feel restless, to stand his ground and ignore Yoongi's requests as he, unfortunately, usually does. Yoongi's not surprised by now. 

He's also not surprised at finding him moving around in the kitchen, because he promised he'd have dinner ready by eight and there's no way to argue against a chef-wannabe like Seokjin. But at least he's not alone in the thought. 

"Yoongi, help. He just won't listen." Taehyung pouts at him, from behind Seokjin, chin hooked over one shoulder as Seokjin stirs food in a pan, distractedly grinning down towards it as he hears the younger grumble. 

"Do you think I haven't tried?" 

Taehyung whines. "Come on, hyung. Let me cook. I promise I've been getting better." 

"I can barely trust Yoongi-ah in my kitchen, Taehyungie." Seokjin says calmly, amused, hair sticking slightly to his forehead over the steam flying up from the pan. 

"That's not true." He quickly catches up. He'd like to add, also, that it's their kitchen, but he thinks it sounds way too homey. 

"And? I might be better than him anyways, hyung. At least you know I'd be more careful." 

Seokjin scoffs. 

"Can I help?" Yoongi asks instead, after a moment of consideration. Not many questions will get Seokjin to yield, but he looks thoughtful before he's pointing at the closed bags of kimchi on the counter, so Yoongi starts on those. 

"Ah, hyung!" Taehyung whines again. Neither of them budge, until Seokjin's turning the stove off and Taehyung simply uses his force, a steady grip around Seokjin's body, to pull him away. "Okay! You're done! I'll serve the food so you can go sit down." He pulls him out of the kitchen, and although Seokjin protests and whines, he doesn't try actually getting out of his grasp. 

Yoongi ends up pulling in all together because as it turns out, Taehyung is still a little helpless in the kitchen and, as he had thought, it is their kitchen. So he knows his way around and how Seokjin likes to serve his food. And he knows the recipe, and his teammates, so he brings a spoon instead of a set of chopsticks out for Jimin, and a salt shaker because to him, Seokjin's food is perfectly seasoned, but they might have to add some just because. And so dinner's served by eight, and they all start munching down on it contently with a glass of Hobi's favorite, as it works out, soju. 

It's been a while before Jungkook's clearing his throat, eyes a little nervous, a little downcast, before he's speaking up. 

"My team has been kind of pushing me to set a release date for the next album." He says, indecisive, staring anywhere but at any of them. He lays his chopsticks down onto his plate, after having finished a second serving. Yoongi knows he's talking about his personal one, something he's been working on alongside whatever they're doing as a group. Yoongi's proud of him, really, but the situation's a little sensitive right now, so he knows the sentence falls like a thick blanket over them, something to actually listen to carefully, all traces of laughter completely dying down. "They say that if it's good enough, if it sells, we might... think of a solo tour." 

And it is a thick blanket. One that's threatening mildly to suffocate them. His eyes travel instinctively to Seokjin. 

"For this year?" Jimin asks, agape. His features tremble, like he isn't sure if he should smile supportively, or. "That isn't giving you much time to plan." 

"For next year." 

Jungkook stares, doe-like eyes at him in response, and Jimin's features actually settle on a frown. Hobi scratches the back of his neck, uncomfortable. Seokjin hasn't reacted yet, but Yoongi knows how deceptive that can be. He isn't surprised when Seokjin smiles greatly at him, leans over the table to get Jungkook to look at him, which he does, reluctantly. 

"That's great, hey." There's movement under the table, and by Jungkook's shimmering smile he guesses Seokjin's trying to play footsie with him. "You should absolutely do that. It's actually so fun when you get to choose how to plan your own tour, like, do whatever you want and all that. You should go for it." 

Hobi frowns down at them, and there's sorrow in his eyes, too. Like there's not much he can do. There's not much they can do. 

It's like a verdict. The guillotine snapping down. No matter how much time they wait, how much time they're given, how much time they think they have. Some things are unstoppable. Jungkook's team can't wait another year of inactivity, and it's only a matter of time for the rest to start doing the same. It doesn't matter what Seokjin's doctors say, what Yoongi thinks. There's a quota to comply win, and they can only take so much time off. 

This also means there is no way to think of a comeback for next year. It also means Jungkook doesn't think he'll get better by next year. He wouldn't want to risk it, the chance. Is what he means. 

"Have you talked to Namjoon about it?" He asks, because he doesn't want to snap. But also because he wouldn't know who to dump that onto. Yoongi's tired, not necessarily mad, but tired. Mentally, so. He'd like to have his friend over right now, he'd know how to respond to that, but then again, Namjoon hadn't been able to attend to their dinner. Apparently there were some things back at the studio he had to take care of before the week was over, but Yoongi knew those were probably excuses. So a lot of things were falling apart, in the sense of that word, and there wasn't much Yoongi could talk about, to fix these things. Seokjin wouldn't tell him and he wouldn't ask. 

Jungkook seems hesitant, visibly gulps before he looks up to him. "He told me I should let you know today, before it goes any further." 

Later that night, when everybody's already gone and he's put leftovers away and the dishwasher's full, he finds Seokjin already laying down on his bed, a lump of blankets covered in darkness, if it weren't for the scarce light shining onto his face from the phonescreen. 

"Do you think I should go back to blonde?" Is not the question he was expecting, but it weirdly doesn't set him off. Instead, he plays along. 

"It suited you pretty nicely." 

"I mean, it surely isn't like red on Hobi, but I felt pretty neat with it." Seokjin goes on with a straight face, eyes glued to the screen. One finger lazily scrolling down, body otherwise completely limp over the sheets. Yoongi hovers over for a few seconds, before he actually makes his choice and approaches the bed, settling down beside him, on his usual spot. The one he's taken upon check-ups, or lazy mornings where Seokjin didn't look like he had any intentions on getting up. Yoongi would usually let him, or even so, insist on it. 

Now, though, he reprimands himself for being so indulgent of his behavior. He's not even dancing around the subject, that would somehow be a little better than this. He's not seen not even a glimpse of what Seokjin's real thought are about the matter. After that forced smile and congratulations at dinner, nothing else has been showed, and Yoongi doesn't want to prod. But. 

"His manager is probably just scared. I don't think they're getting the memo of everything that's been going on." He says, to start up, settling down against the headboard. His back aches, the posture isn't the best. But he still looks down at Seokjin's dimly lit face, frown ever so slightly covering his eyelashes. 

"I don't think they need to. Their priority is him." 

"They don't know everything we've been doing, though. They don't know how hard we've been working." He goes on, but Seokjin doesn't budge. 

"It wouldn't change anything." 

"God, hyung, stop that. Yes it would. We all agreed to wait." He sort of snaps, but he's whispering, because. Seokjin's eyes don't leave the screen, and a tinger of red frames them, and the skin over his high cheekbones is a little puffy, from lack of sleep or for over-sleeping, Yoongi isn't sure yet. And there are skin lesions, little red spots of raw skin hiding under the curve of his jaw. Yoongi can't see them right now but he's seen them today, and. It's not fair. "They're greedy. They're pushing." 

"And so what if they are?" Seokjin's eyes snap up at him, deep frown settled over them. "I can't ask you for another year. It's just... It's stupid. Yeah, it hurts. But there's nothing I can do." He drops the phone down onto his chest with a sigh, closes his eyes. "Maybe I'll never get better." 

Yoongi watches, as his chest rises unsteadily, and falls back down. His breathing isn't shallow but it whistles, and it always makes Yoongi's own chest feel a little constricted. He tries not to show it in the way he looks at him, in the way he treats him. 

"This isn't about waiting." He says, after a moment, careful of his words. "It's about coming back together. Time is not something we should worry about, but when the moment comes, it should find the seven of us, together." 

He hopes he can convey somewhat the way he feels about it. Seokjin flips one hand over his eyes, cowering away, and Yoongi isn't about to pry and see if actual tears are threatening to spill. His body also refuses to stand up and leave, to give him the privacy he will probably whine for at any moment. So instead, he remains by him, watches the lava lamp turned off, the soft cover of the bed, the cluttered desk right across the room, the black-out curtains pulled down. 

Seokjin stirs after a moment, and Yoongi hears the telltale sound of his phone being thrown half-heartedly on the side table. He thinks this is his cue to leave, but then Seokjin whines. 

"I thought they'd stay for a sleepover, at least." It's a little too childish to be a joke, but his voice sounds watery, and Yoongi knows this is only his way to stumble away from the topic. Still, he lets him be. 

"We might be a little too old for that." 

"Hmm." Seokjin hums distractedly as he moves around, settling in. Yoongi looks, finds his back turned to him, and so now it is. His time to leave. "Can you stay, though?" 

It almost goes by him, missed, too small to be audible. Yoongi's chest does this weird thing again, reacting on its own, before he's sliding down the bed frame and settling under the covers himself. He's already in a set of clothes he uses as pajamas, and he thinks this is not the first time they've slept on the same bed. He's fallen asleep before, here, once after Seokjin had been dismissed from the hospital after a particular emergency he was not present the moment it went down but promised to be right after, and probably way long back, when they were still just sharing a room in their little shared apartment. 

This feels different, though, but Yoongi doesn't mention it. He hopes Seokjin won't either, not now, not tomorrow, when inevitably Yoongi wakes up first and finds a peaceful, sleeping Seokjin. When he holds back a moment, watches over his features, wonders why he stares. Why he holds back. 

And then gets up to make breakfast for the both of them.  

---

He can barely make out Namjoon's expression behind the gigantic headset he's having over his ears. It's not like it makes much of a difference, Yoongi can hear pretty well from the small ones he's got. But he's not about to complain. At least, not due to this. 

"Is that all? You done?" He asks impatiently, watching as he frowns down at the mixing table. For once, they're left alone in a room, inside the gigantic building that is part of HYBE's corporate ground. Not without effort, too- he had to ask the producers normally accompanying them for the quiet time, just for a moment. So he has intentions on making each second count. 

Namjoon hesitates, but eventually takes his headphones off. He tears his eyes away from the table, like it really pains him to do so. "Sorry, ah- The sound's not right just yet. I can't help but feel like something's missing." 

"Mhm." Yoongi hums, cross-armed. 

"It just feels off, like it needs some melody on a high key, something that goes like-" He exemplifies, a pointer finger dancing in the air. Yoongi wants to scoff, laugh a little, but refrains. Namjoon shakes himself out of it. "Sorry, sorry. I'll leave it. What did you wanted to talk about?"

Yoongi clears his throat, untangling his own limbs. "Things have been off between us." He cuts straight to the point, because, why not. If needed, he'll rip it off, like a bandaid. Namjoon looks perplexed, though. 

"Like, us?" He clumsily points between them, and Yoongi tsks before he's snapping. 

"Not like, no, I mean us, the group." He clarifies, almost a little annoyed at getting misunderstood the first time. "The seven of us. It's been days since I've seen Taehyung or Jimin doing anything around here, Jungkook's getting pushed at going on a solo tour next year, but of course, you already knew that." He pointedly stares at him, and Namjoon only exhales, sort of shrinking in his seat. "You aren't even visiting Seokjin, and he isn't answering your calls. And I'm caught in the middle, like some bad drama I would never voluntarily watch." 

Namjoon's out of words, staring at him with s glimpse of guilt, of remorse. He sways slightly on the chair, head tilted like he'd like to avoid Yoongi's glare, but is mindful enough not to try. 

"I knew about Jungkook. I think that was... bound to happen." He says, slowly, and Yoongi just waits for him to elaborate. "I knew we said we'd wait. I'm waiting. But you can't ask all of them to just... not do their jobs. If it isn't next year, it will surely be the year after that. I mean, look at Tae, Jimin- they're not, they're losing..." Namjoon shakes his head. Stops, freezes, looks to the side like he's mentally chastising himself. "I'm not saying what I mean. I mean, that stretching this hiatus for too long might make something snap, and I don't want that to be any of us. Any of you." 

Yoongi stares, for a few moments. He's not sure to trust what he's hearing. Namjoon's not sure to trust what he's saying, either. But there's something he isn't quite able to comprehend. Something he's withholding. 

"Namjoon, next year could've possibly been our comeback year. This is setting us off for at least another year- with all certainty, have you stopped to think what Seokjin might make out of that? That you guys don't really trust he'll be better by then? Like you're, I don't know, giving up?" He sternly goes for, but Namjoon's features don't really react the way he'd intended them to. No realization falls upon them, like he knows what he's saying. He looks guiltier, though, like he'd expected this, and still, he isn't ready to face it. 

"Hyung, if all we do is wait. If there's nothing more for us all, than to wait for this comeback, then-" He goes serious, scared, and it surprises Yoongi, even a little. This is the leader part of him, the one that comprehends them as an entirety, the one that sees the whole picture, imagines it as an outsider. "It's like we're all holding off of him. I fear that Seokjin might feel so pressured, he'll jump on the stage the moment he gets the chance. Even if he's not ready. Just because he thinks that we're all just waiting for him. That we all depend on that." 

Yoongi stills, munches on his lower lip, looks to the side. It is unnerving, but a reminder. Of why he's the leader. Why he's always been known as the smartest. There's truth to his words, that's for sure. 

"And what about you and him?" He asks after a long moment of silence, letting Namjoon's thoughts fall through. He exhales, faces him again. "Is that something we should talk about?" 

Namjoon escapes his eyes, like he really can't look at him on this one. This time, it's akin to embarassment, besides the sorrow and remorse. 

He still answers, though. 

"I made a suggestion he didn't like." He shakes his head, his gaze low. What follows is almost a whisper. "I don't know if I want to see him back on stage, even if he is ready." 

Yoongi stalls, agape. "That's his choice to make." 

"Yeah, that's what he said. And I know, I know that." Namjoon recovers, takes his sight again, with pointedly round eyes. "But he won't make it. And you'd know, really. You're there. What if it doesn't get better? What if his lungs collapse on stage or something like that?" He ushers out and it's true, Yoongi mentally curses. But he's also incredibly wrong, and that is a thought he's having, probably for the first time. 

"That's fucked up." He exhales a heavy breath, and drags his hands over his face. He's tired. He doesn't want to be here. He knew he'd be too tired to actually be of any help, but still, he wanted to meet Namjoon. He wanted to know, wanted to get it out of his chest. But the situation's a whole lot worse than he thought, and now his chest only feels heavier, fuller in a perturbing way. 

There's nothing more he wants right now than to come back home, maybe cook something warm for dinner, watch another horrible reality show Seokjin will be gushing about. Gosh. He's getting really cozy with this lifestyle. 

"I know." Namjoon agrees with dismay. "I'm getting ahead of myself, though." He whispers. "Could you maybe, please, tell him to answer my calls? So I can at least apologize?" 

It feels heavier, because now he leaves a new sort of sympathy on his chest. Namjoon's sad eyes are engraved in his mind, yearning and longing and so much fear. He aches for the both of them, for all of them, but that he can't tell. He can't wait to actually make it back home. 

---

The numbers thing is something they had to grow into, too. Firstly, Yoongi knew it wouldn't be easy for Seokjin to confide to him every tiny detail about his well-being. Not that Yoongi really thought that was necessary, but either way, the point of him being here was to regularly check on him. So they had to find a common ground to meet, somewhere to understand each other, without feeling like any limits were being trespassed. 

A number one is a perfect day, almost entirely normal. Seokjin could easily forget something's wrong at all. Seldom times it actually is a One, and Seokjin, in starters, would use it to make Yoongi relax. But he rapidly caught up to that, and from now on, it's almost a prohibited number. A One would make him question further along than anything else. 

A number two, or three, is still a good day. No pain is mentioned but, something's present. Not enough to be more than a reminder, a little bothersome. Like an itch that's not easy to scratch. But Seokjin can manage fairly with these. They usually tend to their normal tasks on these days: going to the studio, attending reunions with producers or higher-ups, maybe an interview, a video, etc. All that can be, is allowed. 

A four or a five is something to be a little weary about. Yoongi would keep an eye on him, make sure it doesn't go any higher. Although he'd say a five is already involving some pain, but maybe somewhere manageable. A six or a seven is to be very mindful of, though. Yoongi really doesn't mean to be the person who restricts Seokjin, doesn't want to treat him like he's not capable, but: Seokjin normally waits until his pain turns into a seven to actually acknowledge it. And he's usually very adamant on making himself useful, whether it is at the studio or at home. Also, he'd rather pretend things can't get any worse, than he can ignore his symptoms and go on like nothing's wrong. That's where Yoongi needs to step in. 

So anything higher than seven might mean he's not even allowed out of bed. Chances of Yoongi getting actually stern and firm, enough to not leave himself Seokjin's room and to sit by him if needed, grow higher if it turns into an eight. A nine is worth calling a doctor over. A nine is what Seokjin said he felt when that emergency happened. But Yoongi wouldn't know. He wasn't there at the time. 

He's never gotten a ten. He hopes he never will. He doubts it. Seokjin tends to throw in whatever number he feels like it. It's gotten them both a lot of work to be as straight-forwards, as exact as they can. But, either way, Seokjin still lies from time to time. Difference is, now, Yoongi can actually tell. So he'd never get a straight ten, even if maybe, it is a ten. 

"Seven." He gets then, Seokjin leaving his chopsticks right by his unfinished plate- but Yoongi knew that, already. He could tell, from the moment he woke up that day. He looks spacey, eyes almost lost as they try to focus on the TV. His breathing's labored, more than usual, his hands were trembling slightly when they had to catch a piece of meat out of his ramyeon. And then, to take away from that: "I really liked that song." 

"Why didn't you tell me, before?" He scolds, because he can't help it. He shakes his head as he stands up away from his notepad and pen, feeling around the bowl of food to check it is, in fact, already cold. So even if he tried and made him finish it, it wouldn't be too helpful. 

"Because you were busy. What if I stopped you from writing an actual masterpiece? I'd have to live with that for the rest of my life." 

Yoongi goes into the kitchen to microwave the dinner, because he put some effort into it, and he's not getting rejected. He goes back into the living room. 

"I told you I'm never busy enough to not listen to you. Come on, hyung. It's literally why I'm here."

"What? I thought you just really enjoyed my company." Seokjin's already laying down, head going to rest on the armrest, a few cushions moving to support his neck. Yoongi can see the effort, the strain, and he shudders when he's finally settled. 

Yoongi scoffs, takes a few long strides, holds the back of his hand against Seokjin's forehead. "I'd have to be crazy to enjoy how annoyingly stubborn you are." He feels normal, no fever. But Seokjin still closes his eyes, frowns a little. 

"We're both alike. That's why we get along." Yoongi shakes his head at him, and steps back. Seokjin goes on, in a whisper. "That's why we're roomates." 

"Believe me, if I had the choice, back then..." 

"We'd still be here." 

Yoongi goes into the kitchen, retrieves the bowl of ramyeon, a spoon, and comes back towards the couch. 

"Come on, eat a little more. I can't give you any pills on an empty stomach." He leaves it right where it used to be, on the coffee table. He goes back to his spot, although Seokjin hasn't really moved nor opened his eyes. 

"Hm. I'll try." He hums. 

He goes back to the paper, trying to return to that line of thought that was making him scribble down the words nonstop. But it proves to be harder than in theory, and he finds himself rapidly stuck in a loop, re-reading everything he has so far, stopping on that word written half-way through. 

"What are you writing?" Seokjin asks, voice a little feeble, and he's still laying down, bowl esentially still ignored. Yoongi sighs through his nose. 

"Just- something. A verse to something Namjoon just sent me." 

"Oh. Is it good?" 

Yoongi thinks for a moment. Yesterday was a three. Weekly, he gets one bad, actually bad day. A masterpiece? 

He turns the page around, resigned. "Not really." 

Seokjin scoffs. "What you wrote or Namjoon's?" 

"What I just wrote. It isn't, I mean." He nervously shakes his head. "It isn't a masterpiece, so." 

"That's alright, it normally takes time, doesn't it?" 

"Yeah, it does." Yoongi's had time. Enough, too. What he's doing is not - is not time consuming, it's not hard. He doesn't get to use it as an excuse. He's been doing good, but greatly? He wouldn't show this to Seokjin, not really. He'd like, in any case, to read him something that's actually great, something that is a masterpiece. At least he'd have something to look forward to, a 'once we're back, we're recording this'. But nothing quite like that is coming out of him. Not good enough for him to see, to show to Seokjin, so. 

He hears ruffling, and he moves his head just to see Seokjin's own peaking up from over the back of the couch. He sits up, struggling a little, hooking his arm over the back, hunched in on himself, but still capable of leveling him with a glare. 

Yoongi feels taken aback. "What?" 

"You're pushing yourself." Seokjin says, voice still barely above whatever whisper-like thing he was doing recently, but enough to make his acusation weigh. Yoongi frowns at him.

"No I'm not. I'm giving myself time too." 

Seokjin scoffs. "As if. I know you're obsessed with work. I know you love being the hard-workerTM." He teases, as if he's in any position to do so. "You just can't focus like you used to." 

Yoongi sternly glares. He warns. "Don't." 

"I mean, it makes sense. You need your space. You should be spending more time in the studio, not here. I know there, you feel a lot more inspired than you'd feel, here. Trapped here with me."

He's spiraling. No, it doesn't make any sense. Not to Yoongi, at least. There's not much he can say, because it isn't true, and he's said this before. But also, it feels like saying it out loud makes it feel a different way. Should he be a little more bothered by this? A little annoyed, perhaps? 

"See, I knew you'd turn it about yourself." Unexpectedly, Seokjin laughs.

It's high-pitched and soft, and it turns pained after a moment. "Don't make me laugh, please." Seokjin winces. Yoongi stares. 

And it isn't like they're not used to it. It's been a few months already. This new dynamic, this routine of theirs. Seokjin pretends like nothing hurts, like he can go on with his life like nothing's happening. And then Yoongi's after him. Trying not to be too much, trying not to suffocate him, and yet forever worrying, overly alert, and constricted. He feels trapped. But not in the way Seokjin tells him. 

He stands up then, returns to the couch with his notepad in his hand, and settles down facing Seokjin. A small smile remains on his face, which Yoongi allows himself to label as 'cute', but refrains from mentioning it. He goes to his notepad again. 

"Look, here." He opens it up, on the lyrics he's gone absolutely blank about. They aren't even that good, they just seemed effortless, back when the words were flowing out of him. Now, as he stares down at them, he doesn't know what they mean. "I'm stuck." 

Seokjin checks them out, squinting his eyes at the paper. Yoongi makes a mental note to lower the brightness of the lights down the second he has a moment to get up again. 

"What's a glass cage?" He asks, and Yoongi frowns, firstly at a loss. 

"Hm?" 

"It says, here." He takes the notepad back, stares at where Seokjin's signaling with his index finger. "It's either that or your writing is worse than mine." 

He frowns at the words for a few seconds, mind going numb around the edges of his memory. Seokjin expectanctly looks at him with eyebrows raised high on his forehead, a teasing smile curving his lips. 

So he goes with whatever he thinks Seokjin's mind has come up with. 

"See, you're trapped with me. Because you're gonna have to help me figure it out now." 

Seokjin giggles lowly, probably as to not disturb his own body too much. They do go through them though, and Yoongi finds his initial idea slowly returning to him. It is, eventually, a slight triumph he isn't throwing that whole page away, even if it isn't necessarily a masterpiece, but it's good enough. After an hour or so Seokjin's gone down to a five, but the ramyeon's gone cold again and Yoongi's arguing against reheating again, while Seokjin's absolutely opposed at the idea of throwing food away. 

The settle for a movie after dinner, and by then Seokjin's gone down to four. Yoongi hangs behind when he leaves for his room, staring at the finished product of the lyrics they somewhat ended up writing between the both of them. He remembers what he'd meant to write from the very start. They aren't at all bad. 

Chapter Text

They're helping Jungkook and Jimin settle into their Seoul dorms near HYBE's court when he sees it, on Namjoon's wrist. 

"That's new." He draws attention to it, won over by curiosity. He drops a pile of clothes onto the bed along him, as Namjoon huffs, and then catches up to his words with surprise. 

They've come to terms with their producers, after Seokjin's notice. He's going away, back to his family home, to get used to his treatment. The rest of them, for the time being, will focus on work, and whatever they can do while waiting to get back on tour.

"What, this?" He raises his hand, a knowing smile splitting his face in half not a second later. He holds Yoongi's eyes for just a moment, before he's focusing back on his task. "I thought people wouldn't notice it." 

"Blame a guy for having eyes." He ironically says, the chain hanging off his wrist way too shiny to ignore. It looks expensive, too. But not like the jewelry Namjoon gets paid for wearing. It is not golden, for starters, and it stands out in the way none of the other chains or rings there do. A little trinket hangs off of it, with a tiny pink stone. 

"They're matching bracelets. I, uh, wanted to gift Seokjin something before he went away." He says, avoiding Yoongi's eyes, stumbling upon some boxes, with a lost smile like a fond memory has come up in his mind. 

Yoongi doesn't ask more. He's kind of envy. None of his relationships have worked out before, and he blames it on his celebrity life, spending most of his time away on tour, or working, producing, etc. He spends more time around people from the media than he'd ever do with any of his partners, so he doesn't really blame them for leaving. 

Namjoon and Seokjin have found a way to make it work - even if, for a while, it didn't - and maybe the actual secret to it is sharing said celebrity life. 

He's absent-mindedly brushing his teeth and staring at his own reflexion on the mirror when he sees its matching piece, ten months later, sitting in the corner of the bathtub, right beside the shampoo bottles, the purple bubble soap, the bath salts Seokjin likes. He stares for a few seconds through the mirror, spits foam onto the sink and furiously takes it with him to Seokjin's room. 

"What's this?" He asks, although he knows exactly what it is. The trinket in this one is blue, the thought Namjoon had pulled through almost making him cringe. 

It had, before. He saw it first on Seokjin's wrist, then on the nightstand, this one time after a bad fight he only knew about because it was Namjoon's excuse for being so dispersed at the studio. Then he saw it back on Seokjin, when he was cooking dinner for all of them this one time. Then he saw it on the bathtub. He thought he'd just forgotten, so he didn't mention it. But it's been weeks, and Yoongi still sees it every time he goes to take a bath, or a shower, or simply every time he catches sight of it through the mirror. He does so, guitily, but he wants out of it now. 

Seokjin blinks up from where he's wrapped up in blankets. "A bracelet." 

Yoongi glares. "I know what it is. I mean, what is it, exactly?" 

"Yoongi-ah." Seokjin lowers his phone, staring seriously with eyes wide open. "A bracelet is something you put around your wrist, it's jewelry. Like, decoration." 

He snaps with that, throws it over the bed. 

"I don't care what it is. If you don't want it anymore, then you should give it back. I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but I don't want to see it laying around like it's meaningless." He thinks he sounds too harsh, but he doesn't take it back. Seokjin looks taken aback, though, doesn't really move from the spot, and Yoongi doesn't wait for him to answer. 

He leaves the room after that, stomping down the hallway and into his own bedroom. By the time he regrets it, he can't take it back. 

---

He's gone out with a couple of friends he's made from his production team. He's not a social person, he would much rather spend most of his time by himself, avoiding crowds and any and all social events he can avoid. Regardless, it is crucial to maintain his status - and, to be fair, his mental health - to go out from time to time. 

His manager makes sure they avoid any popular spots though, so they go out to a very discreet bar in the outskirts of Seoul and drink enough to not care if they're spotted by any cameras, but not enough to become reckless or stupid. They walk through the nighttime city and go window shopping after midnight, and Yoongi finds himself buying at a diet store after he spots a larg tub of greek yogurt because he knows Seokjin will flip when he sees it. 

He comes back home feeling a little exhausted. Lately, his routine has been pretty boring. Besides working from home and alternating with the studio, there's not much else that's taking up his days. At some point in the evening he had actually missed being home, surrounded by all the clutter and mess that's been Seokjin's and his lives colliding with each other. So he's a little glad by the time he's kicking his shoes off at the entrance, a little relieved by the time he's taking his hat off and carrying along a bag of goods, dragging his feet with the sweet influence of alcohol. 

Laughter dies down when he reaches the living room, Seokjin's features changing into an exaggerated frown, raising his eyebrows high and checking his non-existent wristwatch. 

"It's two in the morning, care to explain where you've been, youngman?" He dramatically states, and Jimin's head shakes with newfound laughter, where it sits on his shoulder. They're each holding one joystick, playing some game Yoongi can't actually recognize. 

"I didn't thought you'd be awake." His words are slurred, and he means the both of them, but he can't help a tinge of worry in Seokjin's regard. He doesn't look too tired, the dim light coming from the TV only showcasing a teasing grin. Maybe it's the way they're cuddling on the couch, their legs intertwine with each other's. Maybe being coddled by Jimin has put him in a better mood.

"Ugh! Don't tell me." Jimin huffs loudly as he slumps against the couch, away from Seokjin's wide shoulder, closing his eyes. "You lied, Hyung! You said this would be easy!" 

Yoongi's own shoulders relax a little.

"Shh, Jimin-ah." Seokjin pats his arm. "Let's play another round." 

"But I'm so tired..." He whines again, closes his eyes tighter, as Seokjin starts shaking him by the shoulder. 

"You spent this entire time playing games?" 

"I was trying to teach Jimin how to be better at it, so it doesn't turn anyone crazy again." Seokjin lets go of Jimin after he doesn't budge, and holds his hands up, like he's proving his innocence. "But he's a horrible listener, Yoongi-ah. Can you believe he had to restart the game four times?" 

"Yoongi doesn't care, Hyung. He's too drunk for this." Jimin cuts Seokjin's whining with a glint of mischief, as he pryes one eye open to check for his reaction. Yoongi feels sheepish, a little ashamed at how there's a bit of truth to it, but huffs either way and steps away from the living room, not without some scolding. 

"If I knew you were a terrible babysitter I wouldn't have called you."

"No-uh, hyung, I take it back!" 

"Babysitter?!" Seokjin calls after him, outraged. 

Yoongi thinks he's probably testing it. He thought Seokjin would still be mad at him overstepping the line. He shouldn't have confronted him about the bracelet. Or maybe Jin didn't care at all, there was no way to tell. But Yoongi knew he'd hate it if it were to happen the other way around. 

Apparently, though, it isn't all that bad. 

He sets the yogurt inside the fridge, saves the bag to re-use later. Whispering comes from the living room, as the music from the main menu of whatever game they've served their time to stops. He serves himself a cup of water, hoping it'll will the slight tipsiness he feels to go away. 

"Hyung!" Jimin calls out, after a while. "I'm crashing your bed! Hope you don't mind!" 

"I do mind." He says back, but he knows he goes ignored. He can hear the footsteps disappearing down the hallway, can faintly make out the sound of his bedroom door. He sighs, helpless. 

"Did you really just say babysitter?" Seokjin walks in, sock-clad feet sliding over the wooden boards. Yoongi takes a sip of his water, only slightly regretful. 

"I'm not paying him, so technically, the title's wrong." 

"I mean," Seokjin says, leaning against the counter opposite of him, arms crossed. "I'm all for discussing the immorality of unethical employment, but I'd rather focus on the 'baby'-sitter part." 

Yoongi scoffs into his water, amused. "Sorry." 

"Please, don't be. I'm glad you can find entertainment in this. I can see your suffering, I can see you regret your choice of wording. No, please don't." Seokjin shakes his head vehemently, a teasing smile on his face like the ones he gives when he's telling a really good - bad - joke, while he fails to hold it back. 

Yoongi drinks more water just to swallow his giggles down. Some of it stumbles through, but it sounds gargled behind the glass tipping over his mouth, so he'll consider it a win. Also, alcohol's to blame for his easy laughter. 

Seokjin sighs heavily, amused. 

"Anyways, did you have fun? You haven't actually gotten out much ever since we've moved." His foot kind of swings on the spot, ankle twisting around, a little nervous maybe. Yoongi doesn't stare long to make him feel conscious. He takes Seokjin's words seriously though, in exchange. 

"I don't normally go out. I'm not a 'going out' person." He drinks the last remnants of his glass, shoots one accusatory glare at Seokjin. "You should know that. We've known each other for over a decade, and it's not like I've changed much." 

He turns around to refill his glass, takes another one out of the cupboard, and fills it up too. 

"Fair. But we used to have a schedule set up for us, something to follow through." Seokjin explains himself, shrugs one shoulder up. Yoongi hands him the new glass. "I thought maybe now, without that, you'd be a little more..." 

He struggles to find the right words to continue down that line. 

"We were being pushed around from one social event to another." He huffs out, helps him out. He gives him a half-smile over the rim of his glass. Seokjin receives it with big eyes. "It's a no brainer I cherish my own time at home, now." 

"I mean," Seokjin scoffs, rolls his eyes with an amused smile. "you aren't really home now, so." 

Yoongi blinks. "Yeah, I guess you're right." 

They stay in silence for a few seconds more, maybe a minute or so. It isn't uncomfortable, really. They spend a lot of time in complete silence on the regular. It would only be expected of their coexistence. 

"I know it looks like I'm ignoring him." Seokjin starts, then. There's a change in tone, his features going soft like he's vulnerable, like he's saying sorry. He really isn't, but it's probably the first Yoongi gets out of him. It is seldom he speaks about whatever's going on in his private life, so Yoongi stills, then remembers to try and act naturally. He still thinks he fails a little in the way he looks at Seokjin, surprised, sympathetic. A little too much. And not enough. "I mean, I guess I am. But I can't talk to him right now. I know what he's going to say, what he wants to..." Seokjin's arms aren't really crossed anymore, but sort of hugging himself. 

Yoongi lets out an exhale, lowering his glass. He's not sober enough. "You don't need to talk to him if you don't want to. Don't answer his calls. You don't owe him anything." 

It is bizarre, how he thinks he doesn't agree with this. And at the same time, nothing else seems more correct. Seokjin, who is paler than ever, shoulders permanently hunched in on themselves, or at least so it seems. He's got enough to worry about. Yoongi will have to just, set the loyalty of his friendship aside momentarily, forget about Namjoon. He knows he doesn't actually agree with either, but he's tired. He doesn't need to take sides. 

It's just that, in front of him, he somehow finds it almost impossible to do anything other than... well, this. 

"It's just..." Seokjin starts, and his voice wavers. The glass on his hand shakes a little. "I know it's trashy. I feel trashy." His eyes are set somewhere else, away from Yoongi's. 

And this, it isn't much. Yoongi isn't great at comforting people. It's even worse with Seokjin, because Seokjin himself isn't great at comforting people. They aren't great with words. Surely, Yoongi can write them down. But besides that? Their friendship is based off of respecting each other's boundaries, know where and when not to prod, when to give space and silence, when to call one of their lovey-dovey friends who don't fear physical contact and have nowhere near the social skill issues Yoongi has. 

Besides this, there are many things Yoongi would like to try for a first time. He'd like to reach, like to cuddle, maybe gift his shoulder to him like he'd seen Jimin and Seokjin just a few moments before. He fears he'll never be able to comfort him that way, and maybe that's all Seokjin actually needs. A little physical love. Or the right words.

But Yoongi is still a little reluctanct and Seokjin is awkward, and he doesn't have the right words.

So he sighs, setting his own glass down on the counter and carefully taking Seokjin's away. 

"It's late, we should go to bed." He feels shitty the second he says it, the second he feels the moment slips out of his fingertips, and he'll never get a glimpse of that again. But Seokjin sighs, shakily, and tags along. 

"Jimin's actually taken your room, for real." He says when they're crossing the living room and into the hallway, and Yoongi already knew that, but it feels like an issue he needs to face in this exact moment. 

"I'll kick him out if I need to." He says, but he knows it's not true. He'll probably just snatch a pair of blankets and call it a night on their living room couch. 

He feels a tug on his sleeve when they reach Seokjin's door. 

"Come on, don't be a dick." He's getting tugged through the door before he can make sense of it, Seokjin overtaking him in favor of climbing up his bed and settling under the sheets. It is a clear message and a reasonable solution, and Yoongi can't even argue against it. He's too tired to try. 

So he settles down onto his side of Seokjin's bed, and then it hits as he slowly lowers himself down over the covers. 

He's still in his street clothes. There's a safe distance between them, as Seokjin gives his back to him again. There's a side of Seokjin's bed that regularly gets taken up by him, and on the more regular nights, when it isn't, Seokjin doesn't occupy it either, because Yoongi will probably show up the following morning to sip his tea right there, wait for him to wake up, to check on him. They're not cuddling like Jimin and him were, although he sort of wants to. Maybe it'll help him sleep. Help them both. 

He's out before he can get up and get changed, the realization his thoughts have driven into his mind too complicated to comprehend now, so he hides them under the sheets for another day. 

---

Seokjin was braking his own dictum after spending a month or so back home, with his family. He barged back in, whining against his self-induced time off, begging to get back to work. 

So they did, give him work. 

Yoongi had regularly been visiting the studio so far, often sharing shifts with Namjoon. He was slowly getting the hang of it, although he'd gotten a lot used to it while producing for his solo work. Seldom would he meet the other there, but when he did, he'd try attending their recordings, watch from behind the mixing table and the sound-proof glass, as his teammates read the lyrics off a page and sang into a microphone. 

This time around, watching Seokjin felt different than usual. It's been actual years, what with him joining the military, and all that. They hadn't shared a room like this in a while. 

"Maybe one more time?" 

However, he thinks this isn't how it should be, after so long. Clearly, something's wrong. Seokjin doesn't look comfortable. He doesn't look like himself. His voice is, well- 

He sounds breathless, often times choosing to go for lower notes rather than how he'd actually sing it, powerful and loud and really outstanding. He's whispering into the mic at some point, like he can't go any louder than that. 

It isn't evident, not really. It's not like he's doing a bad job. He still sounds great, in fact. Yoongi's noticed how his voice has grown, admired it even in Seokjin's albums. It just isn't quite what he knows Seokjin can reach. And every time he's finishing a line, he gasps away from the mic, like he's really gone without air for a while. His frown grows deeper with each take, far from how relaxed he usually is, how easily he lets himself fall into the feeling. 

It's a little painful to watch. 

"How was that?" Hobi asks, hopeful. But their producer, one that's always been patient but sufficiently skilled with them, frowns in sympathy, and Yoongi knows something's wrong. Namjoon's chewing on his thumb on his chair, and nobody gives any new directions to Seokjin yet as he pants just a step away from the mic. 

"Jin-hyung. Hey." Namjoon presses a button, speaks into the console. Seokjin's eyes light up a little with recognition. "Can you go a little higher on that last part?" 

Yoongi's pained to hear it all over again. Seokjin tries, really tries to go higher, to sing like he usually does, but he's out of breath half-way through, and he's suddenly struggling. There's pain in his eyes, Yoongi can see, right before he steps away from the mic, starts coughing into his elbow, hunching in on himself. 

Their producer stops the music right away, pushing his chair away from the console like he actually feels guilty, and Namjoon stares at the glass in his stupor. The only person who actually reacts, is Hobi, right before staring around them, a helpless look in his eyes. Then he's out the door, and then he's back on sight from the other side of the glass, as he approaches one Seokjin who is barely recomposing. 

Yoongi watches the exchange as he chews down on his lower lip, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Hobi's opening his arms before he reaches Seokjin, a small, very sympathetic smile on his lips, and he can hear the 'oh hyung, hyung' although sound's been turned off. And Seokjin's eyes are red rimmed when he catches a glimpse of his face, before he's dipping in on Hobi's shoulder. And shakes. 

Later on Yoongi would get, from the both of them, that Seokjin wasn't really crying. He was just overwhelmed. Frustrated, is what he saw. In pain. Not that Seokjin ever spoke about it again. He's not allowed back at the studio until the situation gets better, a weekly appointment with the company's best vocal coaches scheduled. 

There's no need to rush anything, he tells him later on. His voice won't just disappear over night if he lets it rest for a while. They just need some time. 

---

Jungkook planned a hearing party for the release of his second album, which Yoongi was very reluctant to assist to. It wasn't even about Seokjin's condition or how awkward it would be to face his team alongside all of it, although it was highly influenced by that, too. 

Mostly, Yoongi just really, really wasn't in the mood. He hadn't left their apartment for the better part of the last few months, mostly just falling down that same boring routine where the only abnormal would be driving his own car instead of a chauffeur to the studio. 

Weirdly, it wasn't as unnerving as he thought it would be. The making of their new - conjoint - album was keeping him busy enough. Their team was always bringing up new challenges to face on the daily - it wasn't boring, not really. There was a lot to do, but not enough to make anyone go crazy. They were working on zero deadlines, no pressure from their team, from the media. Well, this last one wasn't particularly true. But Yoongi preferred being detached by whatever the public eye had on them. So really, without annoying and over-stepping interviewers making it obvious with their weird questions, Yoongi was fine. He was also keeping away from weverse and lives, although he knew some of the boys were regularly on those. 

Either way, he tries supporting Jungkook by attending. He made socials with the people he knew from HYBE, some other celebrities he had to politely salute and others who he'd rather pretend not to know, but. 

Soon enough, no alcohol he could get his hands on seemed enough to handle the overstimulation he was starting to feel, and he'd gone through the entire crowd hoping to find somebody to be comfortably quiet with, or at least a corner chill enough to hide in. 

He kinda wishes he was back home right now. The flute glass of champagne doesn't suit the type of food he'd be having right now, slumped on the couch while watching a documentary. Maybe a beer or two would be a better call, notepad right over his thigh, in case any new words come up. A blanket over his lap, the one they keep by the couch. 

He travels the crowd until he bumps right into Taehyung and Hobi, both furiously trying to cover themselves and failing as they laugh at the center stage, some people he couldn't recognize for the life of him flapping around to the music of Jungkook's new album. 

"Oh my god, Yoongi, look at that." Hobi, the voice of judgement, cynically whispers at him, lips hiding behind the rim of his champagne glass. 

Taehyung covers his giggles with the back of his hand. 

"You're like old ladies, gossiping with each other." He sneers, barely staring at the source of their laughter. He's still looking around, mostly unconsciously, trying to recognize a face between the dozens of people around the place. 

His stops when he finally spots Seokjin sitting very near the entrance, chatting lively with a man Yoongi knows from the music scene but can't quite pinpoint who it is. He's neatly styled in an all pink suit, showy, vissually striking. He wouldn't expect less from him, but Yoongi wonders how it'd taken him so long to find him. 

The movement of the car, the roaring of the engine, Yoongi finds incredibly soothing, and he lets his eyes slip closed for a moment, arms lawfully crossed over his chest. He feels a weight on his left shoulder before he registers what it could be. 

Thankfully, he doesn't jump out of place before he opens his eyes. Instead, he remains still, almost frozen, as he catches sight of Seokjin leaning his head onto his shoulder, hair styled in slight curls covering his features. It looks a little tense, for a few seconds, before Yoongi sees the muscles in his neck relax, and the weight on his shoulder becomes stronger. Something tugs deeply inside of him, something he can't quite describe. 

Instead, he uncrosses his arms slowly as to not disturb him, hopefully making it a little more comfortable for him. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Hm." Seokjin hums, distinctevely different from the social butterfly he had seen back at the party. He doesn't get enough time to worry though, because: "Almost perfect. 'M just a little tired." He slurs, matches his words. 

Yoongi relaxes against the back of the seat, lets his eyes drift out the window, but doesn't dare let them slip closed again. 

"Looks like you were missing this." The people, the parties, he means. He doesn't specify, hopefully Seokjin will get it on his own. He thinks he does. 

"Not really. Just feel like going home now." He mumbles. 

Yoongi opens his mouth, tries to think of a good comeback, maybe something to tease him a little, but remains speechless until he closes his mouth again. He looks back to Seokjin. 

The change in angle, now that he's laying back, allows for him to see Seokjin's long eyelashes fluttering over the skin of his cheekbones. His mouth is slightly parted. He looks relaxed, at ease. 

He thinks it might be contagious, really. His body is slipping into that sense of tiredness, too, and he really just wants to get to the couch and to that documentary, and he thinks of Seokjin joining him, slurping something he's just cooked for the both of them, sharing the blanket over Yoongi's lap, maybe a little cuddled, like this. Yoongi's head slips in real life, falls softly over Seokjin's, and it is weirdly relaxing. He moves when Seokjin breathes, and his breaths are steady and slow, soothing. His body is warm. It's surprisingly comfortable. 

He's almost disappointed when they arrive up to their building. He almost doesn't want to move. But he guesses he could allow himself this from time to time, now. There's a possibility here, something new, to try. Right now, he wonders why it ever took him so long. 

---

He's a hundred percent sure he's left it here, somewhere. He can't seem to find his ID card anywhere. He's trashed the entire cabinet, center piece filled with keys and old tickets he needs to throw away, along with empty medical packages he won't get rid off in case they need to keep track of all of it. 

There's no need to perform any mental gymnastics to know what's going on, when he can hear Seokjin's poorly contained laughter from the living room. 

"Hyung, if I don't find my card right now, I'm turning your TV off." He calls out, and Seokjin rapidly whines. 

"Wha'?! What have I done?" 

He throws open another drawer, rummaging around the mess that's inside, to no avail. He shuts it with a snap. It doesn't matter how enraged he knows he should feel, there's a grin tugging at his lips. Seokjin's been trying to get on his nerves since the day started, trying to pry into the phonecall he's had from his manager early on. Then, mocking him for being apparently desperate to get to the studio. Momentarily hiding his phone, asking if he could tag along, and then mistakingly putting salt in his tea when Yoongi said he'd have it sweet, and 'thank you, I'll take your peace offering'. He spat the tea out and swatted Seokjin's laughing form away. It wasn't a truce. 

He walks in the living room with deciseful steps. 

"Where is it?" He asks, hands on his hips, a little breathless. He heavily tries to keep his features stern, but Seokjin's frozen stance only gives way to his eyes, innocently peaking at him, before he's set into a fit of poorly kept-in giggles. 

"Ugh, what are you blaming me for? It's not my fault you're so careless with your own stuff." He takes the victim card quickly, bewildered by Yoongi's accusatory conclusion, but not really moving from the spot. Yoongi stares, suspicious, until he's rummaging through whatever's atop the coffee table, forever a mess. Seokjin whines, complains, in hopes of distracting him. "Yoongi-ah, there's nothing there! You don't need that card anyways, it isn't like people don't know who you are! You'll get in anyways... No!" 

Yoongi finds it under a plate with the remnaints of their breakfast. Seokjin stills, eyebrows reaching his hairline as he glares at him. 

In lieu of a good response, Yoongi takes a step closer and hits Seokjin's head with the card. 

"Ouch, I told you that wasn't me." 

"Yeah yeah, sure." He calls after while he exits the living room, going for the entrance. He's laughing now, lowly, Seokjin's bewildered expression stuck in his vision as he goes to put his coat on. "For all the things I do for you, this is how you pay me!" He doesn't really mean it, it's only playful. His cheeks hurt a little from trying to remain serious. 

Coat on, he crouches down to get his boots. Seokjin's weirdly quiet at that. And then, he can't find them. 

None of his shoes are where he's left them. 

"Aish!" He shout out now, surprised at how adamant he can be when he really wants to get on his nerves. "Are you kidding me?" 

He stomps right back to the living room, but doesn't stop in front of the coffee table. Intead he goes all the way around it and towards Seokjin, who's nervously shifting in his spot, backing up against the couch as if he could disappear, laughing his ass off at Yoongi's reaction. 

"That's it! I warned you!" And Yoongi plays along, because why the hell not. He should already be at the studio, that's what he told his manager. But once he's actually there, he won't be leaving for at least a whole six hours after, so it's not like he really needs to be on time. 

He takes the joystick out of Seokjin's hands, throws it over to the couch, and still hovers over him. Seokjin gasps, holds his hands up innocently, stumbling words of 'no', 'I'm sorry', 'don't', in between his giggles. 

And then, Yoongi doesn't really know what to do, now that he's here. He can't really touch, like it would be weird if he does, like if he...

"Okay okay, I'll tell you where they are!" Seokjin lets out an entire sentence finally, and it gives Yoongi a way out. Thank God. Still, he doesn't move.

"Great. Go get them, like now." 

"If," Seokjin starts again, one index finger up. "you let me go with you." 

"Ugh." Yoongi whines, shoulders untensing as he lets his head fall back on his neck. "Why do you even want to go there? It's boring and filled with people telling you to change everything you've done so far."

"Well, I still want to go." Seokjin says, laughter dying down, but still keeping a safe distance, hands holding out in front of him as a shield. "I trust you enough to deal with the new album and all, but I can tell it's missing a touch of mister worlwide-handsome talent. So I need to be there, from time to time." He amusedly awaits for Yoongi's reaction, as he stares. It's not often he gets to see Seokjin loose enough to laugh like this, to play around like the old times. Even older than before his diagnosis. Like when they were younger, a little more free-spirited, a little less wore off by fame and success. 

He takes one of the pillows there and throws it at Seokjin, who takes it with a huff of a chuckle. 

"Fine. But you're telling me the second you feel like coming back." 

So off they go, back to the studio. Yoongi finds his way there easily enough, although Seokjin kind of looks like a lost puppy for half of it. There's an entire area designated just for them, and there he starts getting pushed and pulled by the staff, the producers, his manager. Seokjin falls to the sides at some point, meets one of their sound editors to animatedly chat with. So Yoongi does as he normally does. He disappears into his meeting with his manager, than meets Namjoon at the studio. He sits beside him, on the mixing table, and loses track of time playing around with a few tracks. 

It's good, their sound is sort of coming together. Namjoon's great at making music, he's had time to explore his creativity. And now that they've negotiated their comeback to be under their own terms, the creative freedom they get is enough to make Yoongi's blood thrive at the idea of getting all this out, even if it's a little bold on some occasions, even if it isn't what anyone would consider a mainstream sound. 

At some point after laughing at a few sound effects one of their producers insists on trying, Namjoon bids goodbye and leaves, and it's only a matter of time before Seokjin enters the room, silently enough as to not disturb Yoongi's work. Still, he makes sure he ackowledges his presence when Seokjin lays down on the couch beside him, leaning his head over his hand and his elbows over the armrest, and Yoongi takes in his tired features. 

"Wanna leave already?" He kind of wants to reach out, make sure Seokjin's pale skin is actually here. It's weird, to find him there. Under the colourful lightning of the room. It sort of feels like mixing two different worlds, but that's not true, because this is Seokjin's world, too. So it wouldn't be fair to say something like that. "So soon?" He teases, instead. 

Seokjin scoffs. "Firstly, I'd like to listen to whatever indie-like sounds you guys are creating in here." It is Yoongi's time to huff. 

"Don't tell me you're a music critic, coming to demoralize my work." 

He sees as Seokjin chuckles lazily, closing his eyes. "I'm normally okay with whatever you do. But if you're nervous about it, or if the shoe fits..." 

"Don't get too confident, now. I wouldn't take your opinion too seriously." 

There's a few members of his team there, people he's really grown into and he's comfortable enough around. Seokjin is also very close, at arm's length. He lets him rest, though, decides to trust that he'll let him know when he actually wants to leave, although he does look pretty tired. But he remembers their original intentions. He'd help Seokjin not feel too detached from work, too useless. 

He goes back to stare at the mixing table as one of his coworkers shifts some buttons, and they maintain a low volume as they try different styles for a bass he wants to add, and they sometimes laugh at whatever weird suggestions travel around the room, and they joke around as they try it, surprisingly fitting the general sound of the track pretty well. 

"What do you think about that one?" He turns around at some point, lazy grin still on his face as he catches sight of a sleeping-looking Seokjin. He almost thinks he is, until.

"Exactly what I'd expect from your music." He teases, as an answer, and Yoongi laughs along with his coworkers. He absent-mindedly stretches his arm out as his eyes move back to the screen, and his hand settles on the side of Seokjin's neck, fingertips gracing the roots of hair at the back of his neck, thumb slightly stroking the skin that is, in fact, very real.

And he leaves his hand there. 

By the time he realizes what he's done, it's too late. Seokjin looks like he's actually asleep now, or incredibly comfortable, relaxed and soothed. His thumb can't stop caressing the edge of his jaw, like it's the most common thing in the world, like something he'd done a hundred times before. So casual and domestic he could only act on it unconsciously. 

He frowns away from the sight. His coworkers either haven't noticed or don't mind at all. And maybe it isn't weird at all. They've all been seen doing stuff like this, at some point. Taehyung and Jimin are very touchy with all of them, Jungkook regularly forgets what personal space even means. This is normal. Totally. 

He's had his hand like this before, back when they were saying goodbye to Seokjin as he left to complete his military service. He could sense, there, Seokjin wanted to cry, but the cameras and the presence of the other members were prohibiting him to do so. That was the only way he could think of comforting him, without making it obvious. He'd caressed the very short strands of hair, the pale skin, that was his goodbye. 

He doesn't need to say goodbye now, he doesn't need to comfort him. Seokjin's hair is long enough it resembles a mullet, his fringe maybe a little longer than he'd like. It's messy, although it's as soft as lace. And still, he can't help himself. 

He goes back to the screen, tries to keep working. They slowly grow into a quieter atmosphere, mindful of Seokjin's probable slumber. He doesn't dare remove his hand. Nobody really mentions it, nobody really cares, but Yoongi feels like they should. Feels like this shouldn't be normal. 

And yet, it's as easy as it goes. He can feel him breathing through his palm, the temperature of his skin, the smoothness of his hair. Fewer things feel as easy as this does. 

---

Rumor gets to him before the call from Jungkook does, sheepishly getting to him through the speaker. 

"Hyung, can we talk?" 

So they meet at the apartment Jungkook and Jimin share, for practical purposes. From what options they have, it is the only one that can ensure their privacy, although Yoongi rethinks their choices when he finds their place to be better kept than Seokjin and his. Whatever happened to their family, to the point where the eldest became the messiest and the youngest their role model, Yoongi doesn't know.

"Congrats on that Top Charts album. I'd be even happier for you if I hadn't already heard it five times on my Spotify's top hits today." 

"Hyung, listening to a top hits? I doubt it." Jungkook sideglances him with mischief, as Yoongi settles down into one of the chairs. Jungkook's guides them here. It is sitting-in-the-dining-area level of serious and Yoongi's equally alarmed and proud at how their youngest is facing the subject. "Coffee?" He asks, referencing the fancy tea pot and matching set. 

Yoongi's gladly disturbed, but politely declines. 

"Is this all for that thing you told us about, at dinner, a few weeks back?" He asks tentatively, not necessarily nervous, but hyper-aware. Jungkook does seem nervous. He avoids making eye contact. "Have you... set up a date yet?" 

Jungkook serves himself a cup of coffee as he stares down. He sits back when he's done, both hands cradling the mug like he's cold. 

He looks up at him. "I'm not doing that solo tour." 

Yoongi stalls, stares with big eyes at him for a moment. Then relocates his voice. 

"What? Did you make that call?" 

Jungkook slowly nods. "I did. I told my manager I wasn't doing it. That it's not the right time." 

Yoongi shakes his head slightly in response. That's not what got to him from supposedly trustful sources, for the last couple of days. Jungkook's latest album surely did numbers, it was obvious his whole crew wanted to tour it around the globe. 

He stares in silence for long enough to make Jungkook speak again.

"I honestly didn't want to be the one to put next year off the record for... us." He turns quieter, shy, escaping eye contact again. Yoongi tries to relax back on his chair, make him feel less cornered. "Or Seokjin. I don't want to take that from him." 

Yoongi sighs, untenses. "I mean, Namjoon was partly right. If we're all waiting around for what Seokjin says or does, then the pressure might become unbearable." 

Jungkook looks at him then, puppy eyes confusedly setting below arched eyebrows. "That's what he told you?"

Yoongi shifts. "Yeah. He said that Seokjin would push himself onto the stage even if he wasn't ready, if that's what we needed. And, yeah, I think he wasn't wrong." 

Jungkook seems to hesitate for a moment, looks down into his coffee, then to the side with a frown, then he's huffing exasperatedly. 

"Why's he always like this? He literally won't ever say how he actually feels. I hate..." He shakes his head, not quite with anger as it is frustration. His hands are not little fists over the table, between his very classy porcelain dinnerware. "Gosh, he did it the day of the emergency. If he had just trusted me with how he was feeling, instead of waiting to get someone from his team to call the ambulance, maybe..."

It's Yoongi's turn to shake his head now, but it's slower, impulsed by sympathy. A memory he doesn't share with flashes in Jungkook's eyes. It is a moment that still, to this day, hunts him. He understands, even beyond it all, Seokjin's weird reasoning behind his composed facade, mostly in front of the younger members. This, on itself, is one reason. 

"There are many 'if's we can wonder on, but that's pointless, Jungkook-ah." He thinks he has some of his own.

"Yeah, but-" He goes on, still infuriated. "-there's no point in being there for each other, if he's always lying." He stares down at his coffee, glares at his fisted hands. "If he doesn't trust me for the things that matter the most." He slows down into a whisper, anger faltering into plain frustration, almost pained. Yoongi stares, a little conflicted. 

"Jungkook-ah." 

He looks afflicted, still avoiding Yoongi's stern sight, as his fists slowly unroll themselves. There's something there, between guilt and hopelesness and maybe more. Yoongi is honestly at a loss for words, because he gets where Jungkook's coming from, but.

He also understands Seokjin. He's always had this rave about being the oldest, the most responsible, the one who's got everything collected. If anyone were to need help Seokjin would be the one to offer it. If anyone were to ask for help Seokjin would be the one to provide. Not the other way around. 

And it's been this way, well, forever. And Yoongi's sort of similar: he dreads the attention, the attempts at comfort, the feeling of vulnerability. It is heignetened when one of their youngest is on the receiving end of that. There's certain people one can trust to be seen vulnerable to, and Seokjin's made a pick, mostly based on age and time, and whatnot. Yoongi thinks this whole 'eternal roomates' thing has motivated them to pick each other from the start. It probably wasn't conscious, but in case Yoongi needs to trust himself to someone, his pick is Seokjin. 

He wonders if it's actually the other way around too, or if Seokjin's attempts at appearing strong-faced and unbrakeable go above these.

"Anyways." Jungkook heavily sighs, dragging his hands down his face. "I-I don't know. I wish he would stop seeing me as a child, or whatever. Who cares if I don't do anything for another year? God." 

Yoongi is also conflicted about this. He himself feels at a loss for making somebody like him, incredibly talented, secured future in front of him, like any of them, uninterestedly wait. 

"I don't think there's an easy way to this." He says, sincerely. 

Jungkook sighs again, lets his hands drop back on the surface. 

"Yeah, um." He huffs, nervously sips his coffee. "Still, I'm not going on a solo tour. Whether it helps Seokjin feel less stressed or not, I just... don't want to." He looks guilty, but soluted. Like he's let some weight off his shoulders.

Yoongi waits for him to continue. After a moment of silence, he does.

"I just want next time to find all of us there, together. I don't want to do that on my own. It feels like it wouldn't make any sense." 

He meets doe-like eyes filled with determination, like he means it. Yoongi tries to find them with undertstatement in his own.

Whatever's conflicting his own mind after this reaches a peak some days later. 

He's sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, notepad and pen on his hands as he settles for the final details on what Seokjin and him had written a few weeks back. It's pretty solid, he thinks. He might actually take it in with him to the studio next time. 

There's a knock at his door, small and hesitant, before it's followed by another one, louder this time. There's nobody else that could be at this hour, and still, Yoongi appreciates the thought of him being so mindful of the only private space Yoongi can consider his inside their somewhat chaotic house. 

"Come in." So he gives, and Seokjin peeks in while slowly opening the door, stepping inside. All consideration's thrown out the window the second he's in, though, because he's rushing to the bed and flopping himself face down beside Yoongi like he owns the place. Like he knows Yoongi won't probably kick him out. 

Yoongi scoffs. "Why are you even up?" 

Seokjin complains, muffled on Yoongi's covers where he's seemingly suffocating himself, inaudible. 

"Ah, I see. Yeah, seems tough." 

Some giggling sounds come to life when he's parting away from the mattress, leaning over his elbows, rolling his head on his neck, stretching.

"I can't sleep, Yoongi-ah." It's the most Seokjin-like whine he's heard in a long time. It is almost enough to make the inherent worry that comes along with Seokjin's presence to become subsided. Almost. 

"And you've decided to make it my problem, because?" He teases, instead. He watches, from the corner of his eye, as Seokjin smiles, lays his head to the side mockingly thoughtful. It works, and then, when Yoongi deems it right: "One to ten?" 

"What do you have there?" Seokjin leans in closer, pushing one hand into view, towards his notepad, and Yoongi's instinctively taking it away, throwing a stern look in Seokjin's direction, until he answers reluctantly. "Four. What are you writing?" 

He glares at him, but eventually lets him get away with it. "Nothing. Just finishing up a couple of stuff." 

"Hm. By now you've got enough for a few albums. I can see it: written, produced and performed by Suga. Or, as I like to call him, Agust D." 

Yoongi scoffs, eyes set back on his notepad. "Ah, so you only came here to be annoying?" 

"Maybe. I'm bored, Yoongi-ah." Seokjin's whining again, rolling his head between his hunched shoulders on a position that couldn't be comfortable. Yoongi would, dismissively, tell him to find a better position, but he fears it might come off as inviting him into his bed. Which is, not the best idea probably. "Also, I thought you might be missing me." 

There's no teasing tone in his voice, which Yoongi knows to be deceiving. He probably is, teasing, he means. But there's this weird feeling to what he's saying, like he's, somewhat...? 

"How come? We live together. Only times we don't see each other is while we're asleep." He answers instead, tries to take his mind off the wrongly-shaped path he's taken a glimpse of. 

"But Yoongi, we used to be proper roommates-roommates. I've gotten used to the way you snore. It's soothing. It shouldn't be normal!" He tries not to take into account what that implies. What part of all that is Seokjin actually complaining about. He thinks they've grown out of that sleeping side-by-side phase, firstly because now they're famous and rich enough they can afford having two separate bedrooms, thank you very much. Secondly, because Yoongi can't think of anything weirder than that. Unexpectedly, with Seokjin, it isn't that inconceivable of an idea. "It's wrong- that whole roommates thing. It's more like apartment-mates."

He ignores his own thoughts, though. Seokjin look like what he's saying is an excellent discovery, something nobody's noticed before. 

"I think there's a word for it." He says, Seokjin huffing exasperatedly at his humourless contribution, letting his head fall between his biceps. "It's housemates." 

"I think you should scoot over." Seokjin raises over his hands, decidedly already moving over before Yoongi can react, and he still does as he's told, even so belatedly, because what Seokjin asks, Seokjin gets. Apparently that's how things have been working so far. 

He goes to stuff his notepad on his sidetable's drawer, still pretty much avoiding Seokjin's moving form, sneaking under the covers, Seokjin's warm body beside him, in his bed.

Yoongi watches, slightly agape. "Okay? Make yourself at home, I guess." By the time he even dares to reprimand him with a look, Seokjin's already settled, a lot more comfortable than before. Head nestled over Yoongi's pillow, eyes looking wide and innocent back up at him, fringe laying over his forehead. Yoongi glares, and it comes so weakly, he refrains halfway through. Exhaustion seems to kick in from the moment he comes in contact with the sheets, eyes even a little teary from it. He doesn't need to see more. He'll let him get away with it, but until then he huffs, turns around to turn off the lamp and slide down until his head on his own pillow. 

"Yoongi-ah?" Seokjin whispers after a moment of silence, easily managing until he's comfortable enough. This time around, though, he's facing him, and for whatever reason Yoongi's bed seems to be smaller than Seokjin's. And when he moves, even if slightly, he graces Seokjin's bare skin of his arms, or gets burnt by Seokjin's body heat. Yoongi's distressed, overwhelmed, and suddenly tired. 

"Hm?" 

It takes a moment for Seokjin to continue on, Yoongi actually thinks he's fallen asleep. It comes as he patiently awaits. 

"You let me know if you need any more help figuring out those lyrics, yeah?" 

Yoongi scoffs, because it surely isn't what he's expecting, but his answer is obvious. 

"Of course." 

Because what Seokjin asks, he gets, or at least that's how it's sort of been, lately. 

---

Yoongi knows how it goes. It's plenty of things. It's the rashes, the breathing troubles, the ache on limbs and joints, the fatigue, the occasional fever, the night sweats. He knows it can be easier on some days, he knows it can get worse. Seldom times do they appear all together at the same time, mostly just alternating for weeks or even days, depending on whatever area Seokjin's condition is affecting on. 

So he knows, he understands, the thrashing around, the little whimpering sounds coming out of his mouth as he's waken up, in the middle of the night. He knows it's barely been a few hours before he inevitably fell asleep after Seokjin's visit. He knows, even though his brain is still fogged up from his slumber, he understands. 

The faint glow coming through the windows from the never-stopping city life outside gives way into Seokjin's trembling image enough to shake Yoongi awake suddenly. His hair is sticking to his forehead, skin shining with a fine layer of sweat, lips in a permanent grimace. He's got one hand covering his eyes, half his face. His breathing's heavy and stuffed, and he seems like he's still asleep, but Yoongi doesn't really know how he'd manage. What his mind if conjeturing out of this situation. He reaches out. 

He's burning. His forehead stings Yoongi's hand away, and the sudden movement of his reaction actually makes Seokjin stir a little. 

"Hey, hyung. Wake up." He calls out, hopes his voice doesn't sound as alarmed as he feels. He shouldn't be. He's seen this before. He's seen worse, unfortunately. It's a fever. Just a fever. Seokjin looks like he can't breath, suffocated by the heat emanating from his own body. But he shouldn't panic. 

He lays one hand over Seokjin's chest, growing anxious with how rapidly it moves up and down. He manages to shake him awake with that same hand. 

"Oh, sorry." Is the first thing Seokjin sleepily mumbles, first thing he notices. Yoongi doesn't really know what part he becomes conscious of first, his writhing limbs, the whimpering, the breathing. It must be the headache, because right after he opens his eyes, caught off guard by the world outside of his dreams, he pushes his hand into his face, his breath hitches. "Sorry." 

"Don't be. What is it, Seokjin?" He's quick to reassure, quick to take that hand away. He takes his right back to his chest, tries to keep a steady pressure in case it helps in any way. It isn't as uncontrolled, as Seokjin blinks away his sleep, and becomes aware of how hyper-ventilated he is. Must have been a reaction to something else, Yoongi thinks. He can't really permit himself the relief, though. 

The answer wavers, Seokjin visibly gulps, eyes shut tight again. One knee rises off the bed, than plops back down. Then the other. Restless. 

"N-nothing. Just." He starts, voice a little too raw. But Yoongi's having none of it. 

"Stop that. What's wrong?" He demands, direct and a little rough. He can sort of feel Seokjin's fastened heartbeat below his palm. 

"M-my head. And-and muscles, in..." He raises one knee up again, and so Yoongi guesses he understands. But before he can do anything, before he can act on it, Seokjin's retrieving his hand to his face, pushing down. He lets go of his chest for a moment, and Seokjin takes the opportunity to turn sideways, facing him. 

"Stay like that, I'll get you something." 

He hurriedly stands up and gets out of his bedroom. The urgency and adrenaline die down when he's in the hallway, limbs reminding him he was profoundly asleep just two minutes ago. He still makes it to the kitchen, gets a glass of water, a gel eye-mask from the fridge, a pill bottle from the cabinet in the dining room. He makes it back to the room stuffed with it all, and the image he gets it's a little more relieving than the one he's waken up to, but still not enough to relax. 

Seokjin's still laying sideways, eyes tightly closed, legs still shifting from time to time below the covers. His breathing is back to normal, although it sometimes shakes on an inhale. Yoongi gets, with a better lightning, his skin is sickly pale. 

He doesn't dare turn the lamp back on, though. 

"Sit up." He instructs, and although he struggles, Seokjin eventually does. His eyes are a little lost as he takes the pill and the glass, and he dutifully drinks halfway through, relieved. His voice doesn't sound as rough when he gives the glass back to Yoongi. 

"I'm all sweaty." He says, disgustingly. A little spaced, as he sways. 

Yoongi scoffs. 

A beat of silence as Seokjin lays down again. 

"Do I need to ask?" Yoongi prods.

"Eight." Seokjin simply whispers, breathless, hand flying up to cover his eyes in that stupid habit. "And a half?" 

Yoongi takes his hand away, puts the eye mask in its place. He's taken Seokjin doesn't normally like wearing it, but it's cooled enough, so this shall do, he think, exasperatedly. 

"There's no 'and a half's." He answers, dutifully, solemn. Suddenly, a feeling of hopelessness falls over him, seeing as Seokjin lets his hand fall limply when Yoongi lets it go, tired enough any attempt at standing up for himself is completely abandoned. 

"My whole body hurts." He whines, almost inaudible, instead. When Yoongi's too caught up in his own thoughts, when he thinks he's gone silent for good. He doesn't expect more. "Like- the skin, and muscles, and m-my knees and ankles. Like I've ran a marathon." 

Yoongi stares, a little helpless. There's not much he can do. He tries recalling all the things he knows, the measures they can take with what they have. He could warming up a nice bath for the body ache, but Seokjin looks way too tired to even think of getting up. He thinks he could maybe find something else, a painkiller or something - but pills are trash, and they have all these side effects Seokjin really dreads, because they go so against he's healthy lifestyle and because they're not very natural and Seokjin's not one to contradict an expert's opinion, but-

"I was having a dream," Seokjin speaks again. Takes long, paused breaths, like he's still somewhat recomposing. "- of our debut years, back at the dorms." He speaks slowly, and Yoongi wants to reach, help him in any way, but holds back. "We were- you had that funny black hair and I secretly joked about it with Hobi once. I-I'm sorry." 

Yoongi's insides turn soft, his shoulders fall down. He noticeably melts, and he knows he'd get a weird look for the way he's looking at Seokjin now, a little too fond- but he doesn't really care. He'll allow it, for once. 

His hand shoots up on its own accord, over Seokjin's chest, again, but this time he knows he doesn't need the help. Only the comfort. His thumb rubs small circles over his slightly damp shirt. 

"It turned weird pretty quickly, b-but it stuck." He means the dream, still. Yoongi only listens and continues his administrations, while he slowly resumes his position against the headboard. "T-the black hair." 

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?" He asks, cautious. He fears what happens if he does, but then again, Seokjin needs to rest. He sleeps, on average, eleven hours a day. 

"Y-yeah. Thank you, Yoongi." 

He sits by him as time passes, not really able to go back to sleep himself. He does feel relieved when he hears Seokjin's breathing even out, fast asleep after a few minutes. He remains still very mindful of him, taking in any small changes he might have. 

Then it hits. The tranquility with which he answered his questions, he explained how he felt. He admitted to his pain, told him where exactly. Accepted the pill, the glass of water, even the gel eye mask he's not very fond of. 

There's something he's patiently built, here. He's own up to it, being Seokjin's pick. It makes him feel a certain way, an undescribable feeling taking inside his chest, something he's felt before, on other circumstances. It's obvious, he thinks. And he still can't pinpoint where it is from. It's a mixture of something sweet and something painful. Addictive. He doesn't like it. 

---

Yoongi arrives to Namjoon's apartment in a hurry, thinking he's late. It's not often he gets asked for help, at least not the physical kind, which he assumes is the reason he's here for. 

Except, the moment he steps into Namjoon's apartment, there are no boxes or suitcases in sight. Nothing that actually signals an intention of moving out. 

"What am I here for?" He stands beside the entrance to the living room, slightly breathless. He's still in his jacket and shoes, and Namjoon stares up at him, leaning his head off his hands. 

"What did you think I called for?" He asks, perplexed. Yoongi stares for a second, huffs and takes his jacket off. 

"I don't know, I thought Seokjin had finally gotten the deal." He takes it over to the clothes' hanger at the hyeon gwan, mindful of the moisture the leather's gotten a hang of due to Seoul's light rain. "He seemed happy when he sent those images to the groupchat." 

"No, that's not..." Namjoon's mumbling by the time Yoongi's back in the living room, muffled in his hands as he rubs his face down. Yoongi stalls. "We're not moving in together. I've thought about it." 

He stares at him in disbelief, as an answer. It surely isn't what he expects, isn't prepared to face this dilemma. Namjoon's hands drop, his eyes are set somewhere in front of him, lost. It is seldom he gets to see their leader quite like this. It doesn't make much sense, it doesn't add up to the matching bracelets, he thinks. 

"What exactly have you thought about?" 

Namjoon sighs. "About us. Seokjin and I. Moving in together, is like, a huge step." It's mostly a whisper, like he's embarrassed, still not really addressing Yoongi in his space. And really, he wants to be a good friend, someone Namjoon can actually trust for advice, but in the face of this, he's speechless. In the prospect of their very private relationship, he doesn't know the details. He doesn't get what the problem is. 

"And so what?" He asks, instead. There's silence in place of an answer, and he really doesn't get it. "This isn't about you two. It's, like, about him." 

Namjoon groans this time, hiding his frown in the palm of his hand. "The thing is, that I might have pushed it a little bit. I thought I could help, but then again, if us living together causes any problems, wouldn't that be literally the opposite of helping...?" He sounds frustrated, shaking his head like he's mad at something, mad at himself. "We tried, before, you know? It really didn't work out." 

Yoongi shrugs, shakes his head. Shrugs again. He's glad Namjoon's not looking at him because he feels kind of out of place. He feels like he's into something that should be a little more private, a problem he shouldn't know about. Something they should work out together, on their own. 

"And what are we supposed to do, then?" Yoongi's pushing, a little impatient. He thinks he's being insensitive, but he can't help it. "You know what the situation is. What the conditions are." 

"I know, I know." Namjoon eases out of his hands, sighs heavily again, and finally looks back up at him. There's a plea in his eyes, something Yoongi isn't about to try and decipher on his own, because honestly, Namjoon's smart enough to figure it out by himself. So he's not here to help carry some boxes out of his apartment, nor is he here to advice or help him feel better about his choices. "We need to find some other way. Something that doesn't compromise the team, that might break us apart." 

He understands this, though. What they've done - is risky, and surely they've went through one break up being professional enough to not make it everyone's problem, but chances of it going down badly are there, anyways. And they need to work together, all of them. If something's not working, if something's off, then anybody in the audience will be able to tell. Their entire dynamic would be off. 

Still, he doesn't know, at first, what other options do they have. He feels helpless, walks back home with a heavy weight on his shoulders, atop everything else that's been happening. There's a ton of undone work sitting on his desk, lately troubled by a slippery grasp on creativity and a writer's block of some sort. He drops down on his couch, scrolls through their groupchat. Pictures of Jimin and Jungkook's shared apartment finally established, them happily sharing how neat everything looks. Then Seokjin's message, images of a penthouse he's seen on sale, asking generally for second opinions. 

Yoongi sighs, head resting back against the couch. He goes to his chat with Seokjin, last conversation they've had a few weeks back about some new recipe Seokjin was suggesting him to try. He writes it down before he even registers what's going through his mind. 

---

Hobi is in charge of dragging Taehyung and Jimin into the dance studio to finally kick them out of their self-induced hiatus. Yoongi knows it isn't their fault they're not back on stage yet, but that's unrelated to the way they've been skipping their own tasks and work. 

Surely, Taehyung's been relatively occupied with a few photoshoots and runway events. Jimin's been - well, Yoongi doesn't really know what's been of him. He's safe, though. Jungkook and him must be spending their time like it's the holidays, and Yoongi couldn't blame them: it hasn't been that long since their return from military service. He should check on him though. 

Point is, Yoongi's had enough time to rest, to the point where he's psychotically scheduled deadlines for himself for the entire week: getting Taehyung and Jimin back on track, having them and Jungkook at the studio for some recordings he needs to do, then submitting the lyrics of Seokjin and his song to his PD-nim, then restarting his dance lessons which he's for sure he'll need when time goes around. 

He's currently, after several consequent business related phonecalls, speaking to his manager about an interview he really wants to push on him, solo. He paces around the dining room, gigantic bay windows giving out to the cozy nighttime cityscape of Seoul. He's mindful of the symphony created by pans and skillets coming from the kitchen, a slight fume he can almost see in the air impregnating everything in the smell of grilling meat. 

"Huh?" He stops pacing when Seokjin silently, a little rushed, approaches him at some point. He offers, no, pushes a piece of greasy pork held by some chopsticks to Yoongi's mouth, and he catches it as Seokjin feeds him, and he tries to take the speaker a little further away as it burns a little, and Seokjin stares at him wide-eyed for a second before he retrieves back to the kitchen after a thumbs-up, content. 

"Are you listening?" His manager says after a moment, impatient. 

Yoongi stops chewing. Seokjin groans from the kitchen, mumbling about having forgotten something. It's the best grilled pork he's had in a while, he wants to say. 

"Yeah, go on." 

He walks into the living room later on with hesitant steps, phonecall barely finished and mouth still tingling form the sensational product of Seokjin's kitchen. He checks for him first. 

"What's that look? Did he told you you'd have to go naked on live TV?" Seokjin scoffs, carrying a couple of bowls over to their small, but finally clean and tidy, coffee table. 

Yoongi takes in the array, the tablecloth haphazardly set under a number of different foods and snacks, all presented in tiny bowls. "I thought I told you not to over do it." 

"Are you kidding? This is 'thanks for being so patient and for not kicking me out' type of dinner. It's the least I can do." Seokjin exclaims, entertained, adding a serving of rice and another one of kimchi to the table, before forgoing the couch altogether and sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Is your shift over or are you still on duty?" 

After that incident in the middle of the night, in Yoongi's bed, Seokjin has been adamant to prove to him how apologetic and thankful he felt. He insisted, there was no need. Seokjin suggested making dinner, something they'd both like, and Yoongi promised it wasn't necessary. He didn't have to tire himself out cooking for the both of them, when Yoongi was happy enough to do it himself. Seokjin in, sometimes unfortunately, a very persistent man.

"My shift's over. Now I'm in my 'being patient and not kicking you out' shift." He goes to sit opposite him, back against the couch, comfortable carpet under himself. He takes the chopsticks set out for him, as the steam of several different snacks whirl up into his nostrils. There's kalbi, grilled steak, samgyeopsal. He looks up over the table.

Seokjin chuckles. "I can't imagine. Having two jobs..." 

"Gotta pay the bills, you know?" His lips twitch, wanting to gleefully smile, laugh, but he fights against it. Instead he watches down at the food, Seokjin's eyes severely trained on it too, serving himself a bit of everything. "How did you manage all this?" 

"I might have emptied the entire fridge. I also found a huge tub of greek yogurt I hadn't seen before, where'd you get it?" 

Yoongi blinks. Oh, that. He tries on a piece of kalbi. It's incredibly well seasoned. 

He decides the best way out of it, is humor. 

"Special delivery, from Athens. I'm still in debt, actually." 

Seokjin takes one hand up to his mouth, giggles fighting around a mouthful, eyes squinting in laughter. 

Yoongi's happily sated by the time they finish up with everything. Not a single bite of pork is left, and although he feels way too bloated and full to be moving around, he jumps up to his feet to take the plates away before Seokjin even has a chance to. He washes everything up while Seokjin looks for something to watch, until he's cheerfully screaming at him to hurry up. 

"One to ten?" He asks when he's climbing on the couch beside him, Seokjin's sight trained to the screen, his hand automatically gifting Yoongi a piece of the blanket that's already draped over his legs. The blanket's huge, the couch isn't that much. So Yoongi fits himself perfectly under it. 

"I'm a three. But the movie is a ten out of ten." 

Seokjin's definition of that is meant to be highly questioned, because they end up watching a drama Yoongi whines through half of, and Seokjin laughs at a couple of hardly credible scenes. And it's good, Yoongi thinks, he relaxes against the couch. Under the shared blanket. Seokjin's slightly tired because of all the work he'd put through, but he still manages to make it to the final scene, although he's snoring by the credits. And Yoongi watches as he's put both hands under his cheek, leaning awkwardly over the armrest, and for a few minutes can't bring himself to do much more. 

Chapter Text

He taps his pen against the computer. 

"Salt, pepper, soy sauce?" Seokjin asks as he wanders around the place, phone in his hand. 

"Mhm." 

The diagram in the screen seems to be speaking to him in a different language. There's something so bizarre about the way he can't seem to comprehend the musical scale he's used, like a different version of him created this and now, this Yoongi's motivation has been completely lost. 

"Kimchi, toothpaste, bath salts- ugh, Yoongi-ah! I can't think of anything else!" He doesn't need to glance on Seokjin's direction to know he's whining away from his phone. "Shopping online is so hard. I need to see what I'm buying, test it with my own hands." 

Yoongi scoffs. "You don't try toothpaste in the personal care aisle." 

"No, but- I mean the goods! The fruits, the vegetables! I need the fresh stuff, you know." Seokjin stomps his feet, then keeps dragging them along as he paces again. 

Yoongi taps his pen is rhythm with what the screen displays. He tries to make the sounds up in his mind. 

"And this website isn't helping at all. It's not even divided into different areas, it's all sort of mixed- oh look, an aquarium!" 

Yoongi's fantasized humming meets a stop when a phone is shoved in his face. The clearly AI-created image of a fairly large fish tank filled with way too blue water and colorful fishes of many kinds is set above a price tag and a full red heart - Seokjin's already put it on his wish list. Well, Yoongi's, technically. That's his account, he's logged in, so. 

"Could you maybe, take that out of my face?" 

Seokjin groans as he rolls his eyes to the roof, shoulders slump and twirls to leave. Yoongi's back on his own screen, but he catches movement from the corner of his eye. Seokjin's scratching at the his lower back, for what's probably been the twentieth time today. 

"What's that, what's wrong?" Diagram momentarily forgotten, he leans a little over the dining table, his makeshift working desk, as Seokjin's hand snaps out of his hoodie. 

"Probably just a rash." He goes back to his phone, indifferent. 

Yoongi stares, doubtful and a little worrisome. They don't usually get that high. They shouldn't. Seokjin walks away, shoulders hunched in on himself. 

"Hey, c'mere, let me see." 

Surprisingly, Seokjin doesn't protest much. He stares back at Yoongi for a few seconds in disbelief, than huffs and drags his feet back over. He slowly turns around and rises the back of his hoodie just a tiny bit, enough that Yoongi needs to crouch some. 

It is, definitely, a rash. It's just a splotch, nothing too big, but the state of it is disheartening, at least in regards of Seokjin's general demeanor. His legs have been mostly clean for a few weeks now, whatever lotion his doctor recommended doing wonders. This one, though, looks dirtier, with bumps and a circle of red surrounding the area. 

"Is it bad?" Seokjin asks, trying to sneak a peek over his shoulder, and Yoongi gulps to get rid of the grimace on his face. 

"Maybe, a little." 

He lets Seokjin lower his hoodie down, turning slowly around. Yoongi's hand goes from where he'd been slightly holding the hem of the cloth up to rest on Seokjin's waist. Unconsciously. 

"Does it hurt?" 

Seokjin smiles sheepishly. "Maybe, a little?" He tries, but Yoongi's stare only hardens, eyebrows falling over his eyes. Seokjin shrugs his shoulders, starting to nervously shuffle. Yoongi's hand on his waist is restricting him, though. "It's fine, though. I've never had one there so I'm guessing it'll go away pretty quickly." 

Yoongi frowns, worried. He's not quick enough to cover it up on time, so Seokjin hurries. 

"I'll wash up and put some lotion on right after I'm done with our groceries list, okay?" There's this look Seokjin gives him, raised eyebrows and big round eyes and sympathetic smile, very direct eye contact like they don't usually do, that has Yoongi kind of swaying. 

But that's not- he shouldn't be-

He takes his hand off his waist. 

"Right. Go do that then." He snaps back to his computer, to the diagram and the silent melody. He stares at it with intent as Seokjin leaves. He still stares furiously at it until the notes are engraved on his retinas. 

---

The first day he's up early is for that awful interview his manager has scheduled for him. He's polite enough to endure any stupid questions he gets. He supposes there shouldn't be many, given any words related to 'comeback' have been blacklisted, but he can always get surprised. 

The following day, he meets Hobi in the dance studio, early because 'the body is lighter at that time of the day' and whatnot. He spends three torturous hours in dance practice, ends up leaving like a bundle of shaking limbs and gasping breaths. 

Then, this one morning, he gets called over to the studio by his team. There's a specific melody in one of their tracks that someone from the team suggested it might be mistaken as a sample, and as Yoongi has faced draining commentary about that from the past, he's obligated by - well, by himself - to find it a new sound. 

For some reason, that whole thing stretches on for too long, and he ends up spending the entire day seating in the recording room, imprisoned by sound-proof walls and wires. He checks up on Seokjin, although Taehyung's gone to visit, so he guesses he can go without worrying. It's been some time since he's actually spent that much time working on his music, on their music, and it brings a kind of satisfaction, a fulfilling contempt to him. He's free, now, he feels free. There's few limits the company has been putting to his creations. They did say their comeback would be under their own rules, and so far, Yoongi's taken full advantage of that. 

He takes his phone out at some point, gets it out of flight mode to see if any new messages come through. He gets a few, from their groupchat, one of his manager, a few from Seokjin. He opens this one first. 

Mission accomplished

I gave Taehyungie the talk 

He promised to stop being a lazy ass

Yoongi snorts, laying back on his chair, away from the console. His team is giving new directions to their guitarist for a new track they're recording today. Blame this for Yoongi's smile and excitedly beating heart. 

Calling it 'the talk' makes it sound a little weird

He's sort of grinning to himself, shaking his head, as he watches the band settle in place, and he's got an idea. If only he'd know, Seokjin would be flipping right now. 

You're not gonna guess what we're recording right now

It only takes a couple of second to get an answer.

A song?

>:D

Yoongi cringes at the face, scrunches up his nose in distaste. He writes again. 

Never mind, I guess I'll show you later

Or you can tune in when it drops

Ah, suspenseful

Ill have to tag along next time and see for myself

Since youre so keen on hiding me D:

Yoongi frowns down at that. He types an easy reply, something along the lines of 'yes, as I should' then deletes it, then writes something way too harsh, even for them ('you're rambling, go take your pills, old man'), then decides against it and pockets his phone back with a frown. 

He's not sure of what does means. How he should take that. Isn't that something couples do (or shouldn't do, for that matter)? Isn't that something that shouldn't really apply to their friendship, their roommates situation, their housemates title? 

Isn't this a little like overstepping the line, their limits? Or is he reading too much into it? Is Yoongi, maybe imagining things, or why is he not at all bothered by it?

"Earth's calling back to you, are you awake?" Somebody's snapping their fingers in his face, all pushing and annoying and Yoongi refrains from swatting them away but huff out a chuckle, instead. 

"Yeah, let's get into it." 

He's excited to be putting some music onto what he's imagined of the song so far. He can actually make up the lyrics in his head as he listens to the instruments, their product coming alive. The melody is fitting enough for the lines he's supposed to rap over them, he can sort of hear Seokjin's voice on some parts, too. 

He fishes his phone out of his pocket after a few trials, resuming his conversation with Seokjin. 

You'll come with me next time then

Be prepared

I always am

Btw Im saving this for later, in case you deny your own words

There's no need to, but sure

"Who're you talking to?" One of the producers from his team asks him, somewhat of a knowing smile projected in his direction. Yoongi raises his eyebrows, then glares. Where's the privilege of privacy gone?

"Wouldn't you like to know?" 

It is the wrong answer though, because the man scoffs, another member of his team stuffing a laugh under the palm of his hand. Yoongi doesn't do anything to neither clarify nor correct them, and it weirdly doesn't set him off in any way, at least not in the way he thinks. 

But he feels something resurfacing, a weight crawling up his throat and onto his shoulders. Something he's hidden under the sheets of Seokjin's bed the first time he slept beside him, the first time he spent the night. Something he's kept hidden, too complicated to face, to try and comprehend. Something he can't deal with right now, because the moment he acknowledges what's going on inside of him, is the moment things go south for all of them.