Chapter Text
Jimin felt the next moments through sensation.
He felt a body hit his, chest to chest, the other person’s breathing ragged. Their hip bones and their knees and their elbows and all their sharp angles were clumsy and rough as they knocked against Jimin’s, and he recognized Hoseok’s scent before he opened his eyes and saw the familiar, angular jaw before everything was suddenly dark.
Hoseok had yanked a thick blanket over both of their bodies and he was screaming, or someone was, or maybe they all were, and the last thing Jimin felt before the agonizing heat was Hoseok squeezing his legs and arms around Jimin’s, tucking him in to try and shield him with his entire body.
Sometimes, when Jimin was younger, he would wonder what it felt like to live in space.
Maybe he could be the little prince, fall in love with roses on foreign planets.
Maybe he could star surf, hop from constellation to constellation, pocketing asteroids along the way.
Now — this — this felt like Jimin was touching the sun.
It burned. Even through the thick blanket shielding them, it burned.
Hoseok screamed out, squeezing Jimin tighter, face tucked into Jimin’s sweaty neck.
It was deafening — so much happening that Jimin couldn’t distinguish one noise from another.
Then, as soon as it began, it was over.
Hoseok yanked the blanket from over their heads just in time for Jimin to see flames doused by water.
Water that came straight from Jeongguk’s hands.
Their skin was tinged a painful red, but after a quick look Jimin was relieved to see that none of them were actually burnt.
Yoongi looked completely unscathed, skin still his milky white, his hair and clothes soaking on his body.
With a quick scan around the room, Jimin searched for Jin, heart pounding.
He hadn’t gotten under the protection of a fire blanket in time, and Jimin had to fight back the nausea at the sight of the burnt corpses of the few guards that had been knocked unconscious.
However, most of the guards that had burst into their room had vanished into thin air, and Jimin was both relieved and devastated to see that they had taken Jin with them.
They had teleportation as a Gift on their side, then.
Jimin’s heart lurched with how utterly powerful they seemed to be.
How utterly undefeatable.
“That’s good, that’s enough, Guk,” Namjoon was crooning to Jeongguk, the two of them and Taehyung still tangled up together in their own fire blanket, the two older watching Jeongguk with concern. “Hyung’s fire is gone.”
The youngest had his eyes squeezed shut, and he was panting with exertion.
It hit Jimin again with a pang that he had never gotten the details of what Jeongguk's Gift exactly was.
“Guk’s an elementalist?” Jimin asked Hoseok, who had shuffled so his weight was off of Jimin, helping them both to sit up.
“A Conjurer,” Hoseok explained distractedly, eyes roaming Jimin and his own body for any burns. “He mostly conjures up adrenaline — it makes him stronger, faster, sharper. That’s the easiest thing for him to create without completely overexerting himself. Things like this, though…like conjuring water from thin air…that really takes it out of him.”
Jimin was fascinated, eyes wide as he absorbed the newfound information about his teammate.
And he thought back, to that time when Jeongguk had gotten in the way of a knife for Namjoon.
How it seemed as if Jeongguk had been too far away to reach Namjoon, but suddenly, miraculously, he was there.
And true to Jeongguk’s personality — his Gift wasn’t something he flaunted. It was subtle, a quiet part of him that lived in harmony with the other pieces of himself.
A little noise made Jimin turn his head to the left, where he found Yoongi with his head in-between his knees, hands clutching harshly at the hairs on the back of his neck.
His shoulders and back were heaving with desperate breaths, and Jimin immediately got up, ignoring the pain in his body to rush his way over to Yoongi, sliding onto his knees in front of him.
“Hyung,” he said, wrapping his hands around Yoongi’s wrists and gently tugging, trying to get a better look at his face. “Yoongi hyung, are you okay?”
“Don’t,” Yoongi rasped out, his voice wrecked.
“Are you hurt?” Jimin asked, ducking down to see him. “Hyung?”
“Don’t!” Yoongi shouted, burrowing his face even further into his hands and knees, shaking his wrists from Jimin’s grasp. “I don’t deserve your concern right now. I don’t…I don’t deserve…”
“Hyung, what are you talking about?” Jimin asked. “What are you saying?”
“I could have killed you all!” Yoongi’s head shot up, and Jimin reeled back at the sight of his hyung’s tears. “I—I lost control of my Gift and you all almost died, because of me. You would have all…”
Yoongi was shaking harder than Jimin’s ever seen, but when he reached out to steady him Yoongi only scooted back.
His eyes were wide, and frightened in a way that made Jimin’s heart ache.
“Yoongi hyung…” Taehyung said, getting up to move closer. “We’re not angry. We know you can’t help it.”
“That’s just the thing,” Yoongi spat bitterly, climbing to his feet and recoiling again from Jimin’s outstretched hand. “I can’t help it. I can never…I can never help it. My Gift will never help anyone.”
Though he was shaky on his feet, like all of them were, Yoongi made a beeline towards the door.
“Where are you going? Hyung!” Namjoon asked, rising to his feet. Still in the same spot on the floor, Jeongguk had fallen asleep, exhaustion lining even his unconscious features.
Yoongi didn’t answer, just continued making his way towards the room’s exit, and Namjoon moved to bodily intercept him.
“Hyung,” Namjoon said again, his voice low.
“Get out of the way, Joon,” Yoongi looked like he was trembling apart.
When Namjoon didn’t move, Yoongi brought his hands up and shoved Namjoon back a step. “Move!”
“You’re not going out there by yourself,” Namjoon said, reaching back to place a hand on the door, still preventing Yoongi’s exit. “It’s not safe, hyung. We need to talk, about all of this, we need to figure out what to do and—”
“Stop,” Yoongi said. Though Yoongi didn’t raise his voice, there was something in it that had Namjoon cutting himself off. “Let me go.”
The room fell silent as they all stood with reddened skin and wet clothing, staring at their now-eldest hyung.
All Jimin could see was the back of Yoongi’s bowed head, the stiffness of his shoulders as Namjoon finally moved and let him walk away.
The door opened and Yoongi slipped out like a ghost, clicking it shut behind him.
“He can’t go out there alone, not right now,” Jimin said. He got to his feet, prepared to follow after, but Hoseok shook his head and held onto his elbow.
“He always gets like this after he uses his Gift,” Namjoon said. “He needs to be alone for a while, afterwards. He knows better than to stray too far. We need to pack up and leave, as soon as possible.”
“Leave?” Taehyung asked, turning wild eyes towards Namjoon. “What are you saying? We can’t leave, not without Jin hyung!”
Namjoon turned hard eyes to Taehyung, lips pressed down in a frown. “Tae. You know we can’t stay here. They know where we are — we’re in danger here.”
“We can’t leave without him,” tears filled Taehyung’s eyes as he shook his head. His gaze fell to Hoseok. “Hoseok hyung, we can’t.”
“We’re not going to give up on him, Tae,” Hoseok said firmly, placing his hands on Taehyung’s shoulders and squeezing. “Namjoon’s right. We just need to relocate. A town over, maybe two. But we will come back for him. Of course we will.”
“What if he thinks we left him?” Taehyung whimpered. “What if he sees we’re gone and thinks that…”
Hoseok brought a gentle hand up to Taehyung’s wet cheek, swiped a gentle thumb over the fragile skin of his undereye.
“I don’t think Jin hyung is completely himself, right now,” Hoseok whispered. “I don’t think he knows who we are.”
Silence fell across the room with those words, and all Jimin could do was reach a hand out and clutch one of Taehyung’s.
Taehyung’s hand was coated in another’s drying blood, but Jimin squeezed it anyway.
“We’ll get him back, Tae,” Jimin whispered. Looking to Namjoon, he saw his own determination mirrored in his hyung’s eyes. “If it’s the last thing we do, we’re getting him back.”
❃
Yoongi came back without any dramatics.
Just slipped back into the room less than an hour later.
He was still withdrawn, avoiding all of their eyes and rarely speaking.
It was clear by the way he held his body that he wasn’t in the mood to talk, so they left him alone.
There was a moment where Jimin caught Yoongi’s eyes, a question within his own.
Are you alright?
Won’t you let me come to you?
I want to be there for you.
Somehow, this made Yoongi withdraw even more, and Yoongi turned his back to Jimin, pointedly refusing the comfort Jimin so desperately wanted to give.
Frustrated, Jimin didn’t push, keeping his distance and hovering near Hoseok instead.
“I should have known,” Hoseok confessed later in an almost-whisper.
He and Jimin were packing their things away — what was left of them, anyway.
Namjoon, Taehyung and Jeongguk had luckily landed on top of one of their backpacks, keeping safe their maps and burner phone.
Other than that, however, most of their supplies and clothes had burnt to a crisp. They would have to do almost a complete restock in the market later.
“What?” Jimin asked back, voice hushed.
Jeongguk was sleeping curled up in a ball, not having moved since he conjured the water to put out Yoongi’s fire.
Yoongi’s fire.
Yoongi’s fire — it echoed around Jimin’s mind, the revelation of his Gift.
Strangely, Jimin felt as if that wasn’t all there was to it.
“I was having visions,” Hoseok said, guilt lacing his every word. “Or — dreams, more like. I could barely remember them when I woke up, but…I think I saw it. Jin-hyung getting captured. The feeling of…of…not being yourself. It was a warning, for Jin, and I didn’t…”
That last breath of freedom—sweet on your tongue.
Even sweeter knowing you’ll never taste it again.
He’s suffocating.
Something—feels—very—wrong.
All of those feelings rush back to Hoseok, the ones that had plagued his dreams, the ones that had him waking in the middle of the night with his breath caught in his throat.
Still — they were subtle.
Part of him hadn’t believed they had been visions at all.
And, because he hadn’t wanted to worry anyone, he hadn’t said anything.
Hoseok’s hands shook.
Those visions — they were for Jin.
They had taken him into Seokjin’s head, let him feel the desperation, the fear that his hyung was probably feeling right now, and—and Hoseok had ignored it.
Hoseok didn’t know how badly he was trembling until Jimin reached for him.
“Hyung,” Jimin steadied Hoseok, hands warm against his. “It wasn’t your fault. You’ve told me yourself that your visions are vague, sometimes. You didn’t know.”
“But I knew something was wrong,” Hoseok shook his head, refusing to be comforted. “I knew something was wrong and I kept it to myself.”
“There’s nothing we can do, now,” Jimin said. “We have to move forward.”
Hoseok nodded, but his eyes were still dark.
And, looking around, Jimin steeled himself.
Taehyung was still clearly distressed over Seokjin’s capture, moreso than the rest of them. With Jeongguk out of the running, Namjoon fretting over him, Hoseok guilt-ridden, and Yoongi so listless, it was up to Jimin to rally them together.
It was time for Jimin to be their strength.
And in that moment, Jimin felt a pang of fear, of longing.
There was an empty space where Seokjin should have been — he would have stroked a casual hand over Jeongguk’s slumbering head, would have calmed a frazzled Taehyung, would have had them packed and ready to go within minutes, map in hand.
Jimin felt like they were off-kilter, now, running down an endless hallway only for the floor to begin tilting, tipping them off balance.
“Let’s go,” Jimin said to the room at large, crouching to gently shake Jeongguk awake and brush a casual, healing hand over a burn on his arm that must not have been completely protected by the blanket. “We have to leave.”
When Jeongguk blinked up at him, eyes tired and a little lost, Jimin wondered if this was all worth it.
He wondered if losing even one of them would be something the rest would be able to survive.
And for the first time in his life, Jimin discovered a wound that he was unable to heal.
❃
They had travelled a few towns over, far enough way so that they’d be safe, but close enough that they’d be able to go back to where Seokjin was in under an hour.
It was night now, and Yoongi was gone again.
Jimin couldn’t take it anymore.
He shot up from bed and pulled on his cloak, determined.
“Where are you going?” Taehyung asked, peering at him from the circle of Hoseok’s arms.
Even asleep, Hoseok held Taehyung close to his heart. Now that Seokjin had been taken away, the two of them have been clinging to each other more than ever.
“To find Yoongi hyung,” Jimin said, voice hard. “It’s not safe out there in the dark by himself.”
“He might not want to be found,” Taehyung said quietly, sadly. “It’s always like this. After his Gift.”
“So I’ve been told,” Jimin huffed. “I’ll find him anyway. He’s been sulking long enough.”
Taehyung looked at him in a way that made Jimin’s skin itch with irritation.
He looked at him in a way that said, You don’t understand.
And it irked Jimin, because he didn’t.
He didn’t understand the complexities of Yoongi’s Gift like the rest of them did.
And that was what was fueling Jimin’s frustration and worry.
Did Yoongi not trust him enough to tell him?
Did Yoongi still not trust him at all?
“I’ll be back with hyung,” Jimin said in parting, and he pretended not to feel the eyes on his back as he left the room.
Exiting the inn, Jimin’s feet automatically took him to the forest, knowing that Yoongi would be somewhere there.
He itched at the almost-healed burn that he had taken from Jeongguk — or Taehyung, he couldn’t remember — as he stumbled over the dark paths, feeling small under the canopy of trees.
“Hyung,” he called gently, knowing that Yoongi probably wasn’t near enough to hear him, and even if he were he probably wouldn't even answer.
And Jimin knew that he was being reckless, too, stumbling around in the dark trying to find a person who did not want to be found.
Eventually, Jimin followed the sound of running water and made it to the river.
He remembered when he had sat by the same river with Jeongguk, just further north.
He remembered when Jeongguk had implied that the team would become Jimin’s new family, at least while he was away from his parents.
Jimin never thought those words would resonate so truly, now.
And it seemed like their little family drifted towards water, when they were sad.
Yoongi was sitting so still that Jimin almost missed him.
But, that was the thing.
Jimin didn’t think he could ever miss Yoongi.
Not when his gaze gravitated towards the other all the time.
Not when his heart did the same.
“Hyung,” Jimin called.
Yoongi didn’t move, but Jimin saw his shoulders stiffen beneath the material of his cloak.
Frustrated, and feeling more than a little out of his element, Jimin’s hands curled into fists.
His fingers were cold against the heat of his palms, and his nails cut into the delicate flesh.
“Come back to the room with me,” Jimin said. “Yoongi hyung. Come back.”
Physically, mentally, emotionally — Jimin wanted Yoongi back.
When Yoongi didn’t answer, Jimin stormed over and placed a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Yoongi—”
Yoongi whirled and caught Jimin’s wrist in his hand.
“Leave, Jimin,” Yoongi growled, turning to glare at him. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Go back to the team.”
“Not until you come back with me,” Jimin snapped back, trying to pull Yoongi up.
The other didn't budge.
“Why are you being like this?” Jimin, embarrassingly, felt like crying. Overwhelmed, he plopped into a seated position next to Yoongi. “I don’t know what to do without you, hyung. I can’t—we aren’t—I don’t know what to do. To help Tae, or Hoseok hyung, or Seokjin hyung, or you! Everything is so far out of my reach and I can’t—I can’t—”
“Jimin,” Yoongi sighed, anger completely gone from his voice. “Jimin, breathe.”
“I can’t do this alone,” Jimin smacked a hand against the dirt, voice rising in pitch. “Everyone is falling apart and I can’t do this on my own.”
“You’re not alone,” Yoongi said softly. “Of course you’re not.”
Even though Jimin had come out here to comfort Yoongi, he was the one being comforted, now.
“I’m sorry, Jimin,” Yoongi pulled him closer, clasped a warm hand on the back of his neck and squeezed. Jimin buried his face into Yoongi’s throat, relief making him sag into the elder’s arms. “Hyung is sorry.”
“I’m scared,” Jimin confessed. His throat felt tight. “I’m so scared. How will we get Jin hyung back? What if he stays that way forever? Taehyung and Hoseok hyung would never get over it, and—”
“Jimin, look at me,” Yoongi tipped his face up, and Jimin didn’t know how hard he was breathing until he felt his own breath warm the skin of Yoongi’s palm.
“It’s going to be alright,” Yoongi said. His eyes were dark, his face determined. “I promise you. You’re not alone. We’re going to be alright.”
“Seokjin hyung too?” Jimin whispered, voice breaking.
“Especially Jin hyung,” Yoongi said. “How could he not be, when once he gets back he’ll spend the rest of his life being smothered by Tae and Hobi?”
Jimin let out a little laugh. “It’s empty, without him.”
Yoongi didn’t respond, just grazed a soft thumb over the heated skin of his cheek.
“It’s empty without you, too,” Jimin whispered.
“I’m sorry I’ve been distant,” Yoongi said. “I’m sorry for—everything.”
“You keep apologizing to me,” Jimin said. “But this time, there’s nothing to apologize for. Hyung, you saved us. Your Gift saved us.”
Yoongi was already shaking his head before Jimin could even finish his sentence.
“My Gift is the most destructive part of me. Your Gift gives, Jimin, it gives and it gives and it never stops giving. My Gift — all it does is take. And I can’t stop it. One day, it will take everything from me.”
“No, hyung,” Jimin shook his head, came close. “It won’t. Your Gift is strong, yes, but it’s part of you. Nothing that is part of you could be bad.”
“You don’t understand, Jimin. It’s completely out of my control,” Yoongi said, eyes desperate. “It’s…at times it doesn’t even feel like it’s part of me. It feels like…like…something I am constantly fighting. It feels like a hand that squeezes around my throat and I can only breathe if I stand on my toes, but every now and then I lose my balance, I get tired, and my heels touch the ground.”
Jimin didn’t understand.
He sat there, mind racing, trying to process it all.
“Tell me, hyung,” Jimin said, raising a hand to press it over Yoongi’s, curling up his pale, long fingers and cupping them into a fist within his own. “Tell me everything. I want to know.”
Yoongi paused.
“You’ll fear me, after,” Yoongi said. “You will.”
“I’d never,” Jimin protested. “You’re—you. I could never.”
“I could kill you in a second, Jimin,” Yoongi said. “I could.”
“But you wouldn’t,” Jimin said.
“It’s not something I can control,” Yoongi said. “That’s why it’s so…hard for me. My Gift — I can’t control it.”
“What do you mean? Everybody can control their Gift.”
“Something went wrong, with me,” Yoongi’s voice ached. “Maybe — a fault in my genes, or maybe my Gift is just wrong. Not meant to be. But it’s strong. Stronger than me, and it feels like a demon that I have to reign in during every waking moment.”
Jimin sucked in a sharp breath.
“Every time I lose hold of my emotions,” Yoongi said. “When I get too angry, too sad, too bloodthirsty — it’s always the negative emotions. It’s as if it feeds off of my darker energy. Those feelings consume me, they eat me alive, Jimin. And if I don’t reign them in…”
“That’s when your Gift comes out,” Jimin pieced it together. “The fire.”
“But I feel those feelings every day,” Yoongi whispered. “They’re—there. Festering in the back of my mind. If I just concentrated on them long enough, I could…”
Jimin closed his eyes, squeezed Yoongi’s hand.
“I’m constantly having to keep myself in check,” Yoongi explained. “Every day, every moment. If I lose that control, if I just let myself go…sometimes it feels like I could burn down the entire earth.”
Yoongi let out a shaking breath. “It’s funny how I feel like that, but at the same time, I constantly feel so weak. Not even strong enough to have a handle on my own Gift.”
“No. You are strong, hyung, the strongest person I know.” Jimin said. He scooted closer to Yoongi, wanting him to know that he wasn’t afraid.
Not of him — never of him.
“Do you know what Hyunshik hyung told me? In that prison at the first base? He told me that Gifts are a reflection of the truest parts of one’s soul.”
Yoongi let out a self-depracating huff. “So the truest part of my soul is rooted in destruction. In losing control.”
“Your emotions rule you, hyung, but that’s not a bad thing,” Jimin said gently, correcting him. “It means your heart is big. It means you care, and you fight, and you dream, and all of that shows in your Gift. It may be difficult to control, but it is yours, Yoongi hyung. In the end, it will always be yours.”
Yoongi was staring at him, and Jimin was shocked to see that his eyes were watering.
The two of them were pressed so closely together that Jimin felt as if he could see each of Yoongi’s delicate lashes, could feel Yoongi’s breath hitch against his cheek.
Jimin pressed a firm but gentle hand to Yoongi’s chest, splaying his fingers out against the rhythm inside his ribs.
“Your Gift is a manifestation of your heart. And the very last word I would use to describe your heart is destructive.”
Yoongi didn’t say anything for a long time, just covered Jimin’s hand still resting on his heart with one of his own.
He ducked his head, tucking it into the curve of Jimin’s neck, and underneath his palm Jimin could feel that Yoongi’s heart was pounding.
“Thank you, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi whispered.
“Does your Gift come out with happy emotions, too? Even if you’re too happy, would it…?”
Lifting his head, Yoongi was silent for a long time. “No. Or…I don’t really know. I don’t think so. So many of my emotions are just bad, and angry, and vengeful, all the time. I think those are really what feed the flame.”
“Do you try to focus on the good emotions?” Jimin asked. “To cancel out the bad. Maybe that could help you control your Gift better.”
“I usually just try to block out…everything,” Yoongi said. “I don’t know. It’s easier to repress everything rather than try to filter through.”
Jimin hummed in acknowledgment.
“Things have been different since you, though,” Yoongi whispered.
Jimin glanced down at him, surprised. “What?”
Yoongi didn’t repeat himself, but Jimin had heard him clearly.
A breeze blew a strand of Jimin’s hair into his eyes and Yoongi didn’t hesitate to reach out and correct it.
Jimin melted into the touch, glad that Yoongi was no longer pulling away.
“Let’s go back,” Jimin said.
And the fact that Jimin got to say that at all warmed him — the fact that he had a right to lead Yoongi anywhere.
That he had a right to stay by Yoongi’s side, anywhere.
Yoongi nodded, and when he looked back up — his eyes were lighter than Jimin’s ever seen them.
“Perhaps touch is not the only way you know how to heal, Park Jimin,” Yoongi said, a tiny smile curling up the delicate edges of his lips.
Jimin was filled with so much fondness, so much relief, that he couldn’t help but beam at the older.
They might still have dozens of things to still figure out, but then, in that moment — Jimin felt as if things were finally going right.
❃
Since truly discovering Yoongi’s Gift, it allowed Jimin to understand the other a bit better.
It made a bit more sense, now.
Why Yoongi seemed so stoic all the time, why he was emotionally unavailable to the point of being completely guarded.
It was because he was constantly trying to rein his Gift in, constantly keeping himself in check.
But now that Jimin knew, it seemed as if Yoongi was letting himself go, a little bit.
Now, he reached for Jimin more often than not, stood so close that Jimin could count sun spots on the high of his cheeks.
Now, Yoongi tsked at the injuries Jimin took from them, brushing calloused hands over his bandages, face hard but eyes worried.
Jimin’s breath stuttered when Yoongi pressed his lips against a graze Jimin had healed from Namjoon.
Yoongi looked up at him from under dark lashes, his mouth against the vulnerable part of Jimin’s wrist.
“Never if you don’t want to,” Yoongi reminded him, his breath warm against Jimin’s skin. “Okay?”
To reassure him, Jimin reached out and swiped his thumb along Yoongi’s cheek. “Okay, hyung. I know.”
And now, whenever Jimin glanced over, it seemed as if Yoongi was always already looking back.
This time was no different — they were on their way back to the inn after collecting dinner from the market, and Yoongi’s gaze was soft when Jimin looked towards him.
Jimin’s heart felt like a rose unfurled.
“You always look at me like that,” Jimin said softly.
“Like what?” Yoongi asked, gaze unfaltering. His lips were tipping up in a slight smile, and Jimin wanted to trace the slopes of his Cupid’s bow with his finger. Wanted to feel that smile on his skin.
“Like…like I’m…something more than just me,” Jimin huffed, kicking at a rock on the floor as they walked. “Like I hung the moon, or something.”
And, okay, Yoongi was definitely smiling now, and even though Jimin was so embarrassed he felt like squirming, his lips began to tilt up, too.
He let out a surprised yelp when Yoongi caught his arm, spinning him so that his back hit a tree, faces now pressed close together.
Their food lay on the ground in bags around their feet, but Jimin could only see Yoongi.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Yoongi’s tone was reverent, his calloused finger tracing a fine line up Jimin’s arm, over the crescent of his shoulder, into the dip of his collarbone.
“Hyung,” Jimin half-laughed, surprised.
It made him ache, the way Yoongi was speaking to him, like this.
With a voice that felt like that golden drop of ink that falls to earth every sunrise.
“You’ve always been beautiful, Jimin,” Yoongi said, so close their feet were touching. “I can’t look away.”
“Even when I argued with you and made you angry all the time in the beginning?” Jimin asked.
Yoongi huffed out a tiny laugh, then cupped a hand against Jimin’s cheek. “Even then.”
“Even when I want you to kiss me?” Jimin whispered, heart pounding so hard he was sure Yoongi could feel it against his own chest.
Yoongi’s breath was warm against Jimin’s. “Especially then.”
Jimin didn’t know who closed the distance first — it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was Yoongi, the smell of him and the taste of his lips against Jimin’s. Jimin buried himself closer, let his fingers memorize the texture of the hair at Yoongi’s nape, the softness of his cloak’s hood underneath Jimin’s bare wrists.
The air was cold but everything about Jimin felt flushed — his cheeks and his stomach and the tips of his toes, his feet curling when Yoongi’s tongue licked along his bottom lip.
When they broke apart to breathe Yoongi dipped to Jimin’s neck and Jimin sucked in a harsh breath when he felt teeth graze his skin.
“Yoongi hyung,” he breathed out.
“I want you, Jimin,” Yoongi breathed out, arms tightening around Jimin’s waist, fingers spanned wide, as if he wanted to hold all of Jimin in his palms.
“Hyung,” Jimin said again, breathing heavily.
Yoongi’s mouth was hot against Jimin’s neck, and he only pressed in closer at the high-pitched sound that escaped Jimin’s throat.
With the newfound closeness, however, also came fear.
“Is this smart?” Jimin whispered, fingers still curled into Yoongi’s hair.
“What?” Yoongi pulled back to look at him, brows knitted together.
His lips were swollen, and Jimin couldn’t help but stare at them.
He wondered if he looked the same way — flushed pink and pretty.
“Is it smart to get even more attached, when we’re on a mission as dangerous as this?” Jimin asked, desperate.
Despite his cautionary words, Jimin’s fingers tightened their grip on Yoongi.
His heart was pounding heavy in his chest.
The way Yoongi made him feel was something new — a type of love he hadn’t known before.
A love written out in fairytales and midnight dreams.
A love Jimin never thought he’d get to experience.
Now, it was a love Jimin was afraid of losing, before he even fully had it.
Yoongi’s expression darkened. “Jimin. I’d never let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?”
Jimin looked at him, really looked at him.
At his kiss-swollen lips, at the tiny freckles dotting his cheeks from the sun, at the strong column of his throat, his broad shoulders.
“You can’t know that,” Jimin whispered. “Sometimes things are just out of our control.”
Yoongi was shaking his head before Jimin even finished speaking. “No. I do know. I’d sooner die than let anything hurt you—”
“Don’t say that,” Jimin snapped. “Don’t. You know I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
Yoongi’s hand squeezed the curve of Jimin’s waist.
Their eyes were fierce, but neither of them backed down, gazes locked.
“Well. It sounds like it’s too late then, isn’t it?” Yoongi finally murmured. “To try and not get attached.”
After a beat, Jimin deflated and shut his eyes.
“I suppose you’re right.”
And he was.
There was no point in holding back now — not when they both knew how they felt for each other. Not now, when they’ve had a taste of the other’s lips, a feel of the other’s warmth pressed against their skin.
Another kiss was pressed to Jimin’s lips, soft and sweet, that kindling heat from before gone.
It shocked a blush from Jimin, the casual display of affection.
“We’re going to finish this mission, Park Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice was determined, tipping their foreheads together. “We’re going to rescue Jin hyung, and we’ll all finish this mission alive, we’ll make sure this shitty government doesn’t last, we’ll make sure all Gifteds are safe, and we’re going to get to do normal things, like…like…”
And Jimin realized, in that moment, that perhaps Yoongi had forgotten what ‘normal’ was. He’d spent so many years training with the Resistance that that had become his normal.
“I’ll show you the forest behind my house,” Jimin filled in for him gently. “My favorite meadows. We can pack food and lounge there all day, take naps in the sun. We can swim in the stream, and dig for colorful rocks.”
Yoongi’s eyes had slipped shut, something longing and wistful on his face as he imagined it.
“You can meet my parents,” Jimin continued, painting a dream that felt so, so out of reach. “You can see my room, I can show you the books that I loved as a kid…”
“We can be happy, Jimin,” Yoongi whispered. “Once we’re through with all this…we can be together.”
Jimin leaned forward to give him one last kiss, relishing in the fact that he was allowed to do this now.
He couldn’t stop himself from kissing Yoongi again and again, their lips parting with breathy sighs as the sun faded, making everything around them look like it was covered in golden gauze.
And they couldn’t help but hope.
“We already are, hyung.”
❃
When they got back, the group’s dinner having gone cold because of how long Yoongi and Jimin had stayed by the tree, Jimin immediately noticed something was off.
Tension was wrapped tight around the room like cling wrap, suffocating and sticky.
Movements were stilted and Jimin and Yoongi shared a glance, confused.
They decided not to ask about it, hoping that it would blow over, hoping that whatever fight or argument had happened had been resolved, but—
It was the littlest thing.
They were all sitting in a circle on the floor of their room, eating silently.
Namjoon sighed too loudly, Taehyung glared.
A few minutes later, Namjoon sighed again, not even aware that he was doing it, and Taehyung just snapped.
“What?” Taehyung spat.
Namjoon looked up at him, surprised, but then his eyes hardened.
“What?” Namjoon asked back, tone just as harsh.
“You keep sighing like there’s something you want to say. So just say it,” Taehyung said, the lines of his face hard.
Jimin looked back and forth between them incredulously, never having seen them like this before.
He’d never seen them this…antagonous. This aggressive — especially towards each other.
When Jimin caught eyes with Jeongguk, a question in his own, Jeongguk just bit his lip and shook his head.
An, it’s-out-of-our-control.
“I didn’t even do anything, Taehyung,” Namjoon said.
Taehyung gritted his teeth. “Fuck you.”
“What the hell?” Namjoon snapped, standing and slapping his hand on the table by them with a bang.
It snapped in half.
“Joon,” Yoongi murmured, beginning to rise too.
“No,” Namjoon said to him, not even looking at his hyung. “It seems as if you’re the one with something to say, Taehyung, so just fucking say it.”
Taehyung’s face was turning red, lips twisting as if he were about to scream or cry or both.
Jimin knew that he hated it when Namjoon spoke to him like he was a kid — knew he hated it when anyone spoke to him like he was dumb, or something lesser.
“Fine,” Taehyung rose to his feet, too, voice shaking. “I think you’re a coward. I think you and Yoongi hyung think you’re so brave and mighty but I think that you two are nothing but cowards!”
Taehyung was screaming by the end of his sentence, having to talk over the voices that interrupted to berate him, to hush him, to soothe him.
Yoongi blinked at having been pulled into this so suddenly.
“Tae…” Jimin puttered out. “Calm down, Taehyungie, let’s all sit down and talk…”
He made a motion to take Taehyung’s hand in his own, and Taehyung shoved his away harshly.
Hurt flashed across Jimin's face faster than he could mask it, and it didn’t escape anyone’s notice.
“Hey,” Yoongi snapped at Taehyung, sounding angry now.
But that made it worse.
“What?” Taehyung turned his angry gaze on the two of them, and Jimin wilted under his friend’s anger, while Yoongi stiffened, leaning forward as if to berate him.
It seemed as if Taehyung were antagonizing them on purpose, wanting more and more excuses to blow like a fuse.
“Taehyung,” Jimin tried again. “Is this about Jin hyung? We’re going to get him back, okay? Just—we don't know how yet.”
“We just have to get caught again!” Taehyung said, bringing a hand up and yanking at his hair. “It’s so—it’s so easy, we just have to do what we did at that first base, we just have to get caught and—and find him from the inside, we could do it, we—”
“We barely made it out of that base alive, Tae,” Namjoon said, voice hard and unforgiving. “You know that. We love Jin hyung just as much as you do, okay, so don’t—”
“You don’t!” Taehyung screamed, voice cracking. His hands were trembling, and Jimin’s heart ached. “Fuck you, you don’t. You wouldn’t be half as calm, standing here talking about strategies and plans if it were Jeongguk! You have Jeongguk safe and sound by your side, but if it were him, don’t you dare tell me that you would be acting the same way!”
“Tae…” Hoseok spoke up for the first time, then, breaking the long silence that rang out after his words. “Look at me.”
Taehyung’s hands were pressed against his face, now, muffling his violent sobs.
“Taehyungie,” Hoseok crooned, crowding close and squeezing him tight in his arms. “My Tae.”
They rocked from side to side, Hoseok dropping kisses along the side of Taehyung’s head. “You’ll be okay. Jin hyung will be okay.”
Taehyung was shaking his head, no, no, no.
“We’ll be okay,” Hoseok murmured into Taehyung’s ear.
A confession and a plea all in one.
Taehyung cried himself to sleep.
Hoseok wrapped him up in one of the beds, and the rest of the team took turns glancing at him, concern in their eyes.
“It hurts,” Jimin whispered to Yoongi as they were pressed close. “Seeing him like that.”
“Yea,” Yoongi’s voice sounded wrecked, as if it had been him who was screaming instead of Taehyung. “It does.”
It was only ten minutes after Taehyung drifted off that Namjoon sat on his bedside, regret clear on his face.
He dipped and pressed a firm kiss to Taehyung’s forehead, his hand cupped around the nape of the younger’s neck.
Though he couldn’t hear them, from the way Namjoon’s lips were moving, Jimin knew he was whispering apologies.
When Namjoon pulled away, Jimin saw Taehyung’s eyelids flicker, as if he was never really asleep in the first place.
❃
It’s Hoseok who wakes everybody up.
Jimin is curled into the warmth of Yoongi’s chest when somebody is suddenly shaking his shoulder.
His eyes open blearily, and all he sees is the blur of Yoongi’s collarbone pressed against his own eyelashes as he feels the arm Yoongi had slung around his waist moving to gently shove off whoever was jostling them.
“’S still early,” Yoongi said, voice scratchy with sleep.
Jimin let out a tired sigh and shut his eyes again, ready to go back to sleep, but the hand was back on his shoulder, shaking again.
The whispered words were no longer whispers, now, and they finally registered in Jimin’s mind.
“Have you seen Taehyung? Wake up, Taehyung’s gone!”
“What?” Yoongi sat up only moments before Jimin did, their legs tangled underneath the blanket.
Their eyes scanned the room, from Hoseok’s panic-stricken face to Namjoon and Jeongguk pressed up against each other on the other bed, beginning to blink awake from the commotion.
“I woke up and he wasn’t here,” Hoseok said. “He’s not in the washroom either, and I checked downstairs, outside…I have a bad feeling. I don’t…”
He brought a hand up to his stomach, and Jimin reached out for him, squeezing his hand in reassurance, even though his own stomach was curling with anxiety.
“Maybe he’s just taking a walk,” Jimin suggested, brows pinched in worry. He felt Yoongi’s warmth leave the bed and hurry across the room.
But when his eyes met Hoseok’s, both of them could tell that neither of them believed that.
“He took his pack,” Yoongi breathed out, voice pinched. “He took his fucking pack.”
“Taehyung’s gone?” Jeongguk and Namjoon were fully awake now, sitting up with wide eyes. “He left?”
Yoongi was still cursing, counting and re-counting the bags over and over again.
But Taehyung’s was definitely missing — Jimin could see it even from across the room.
Hoseok slumped next to him, and Jimin turned his head in time to see his hyung’s expression completely fall.
“He went after Jin hyung,” Hoseok said. “He went to bring him back.”
Namjoon cursed.
“What are we going to do?” Jeongguk whispered.
Even with just Seokjin missing, the group had seemed so much smaller.
Now, with Taehyung gone as well, their group of five felt awkward and stilted, like they were missing a limb.
“We have to go after him,” Jimin said.
He watched as Yoongi and Namjoon locked eyes, communicating silently.
“We have no solid plan yet,” Yoongi said softly. Quietly, as if whispering a confession to a parting breeze, hoping it would carry it off before anyone could hear.
A confession he himself didn’t even want to hear.
“Screw the plan,” Hoseok jumped to Jimin’s defense. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is that—that—”
Namjoon was shaking his head, though his face showed doubt.
“It would be a suicide mission. We have no idea what we’re up against…and they’re so much larger in number than us, and we have to check back in with base—”
“They could die!” Hoseok screamed, voice wrecked. “We can’t just sit here and strategize and plan when any moment now, Jin hyung or Tae could be hurt, or even already dead!”
Tears were streaming down his cheeks, then, and the sight of his normally upbeat hyung so distressed had Jimin’s heart aching.
The fear that Jimin felt — Hoseok must feel it ten times more.
How could he not, when the night before he had fallen asleep with Taehying in his arms, pressed a kiss to the warmth of Taehyung’s neck, and had woken up to nobody there next to him? How could he not, when Jin was gone too, when Jin wasn’t even Jin anymore, when Jin had looked at him with eyes that didn’t remember a single kiss, a single shared touch.
“We’re family,” Jeongguk spoke up, voice shaking but strong. His eyes were brimming with tears, but his expression was fierce. “Aren’t we? We’re family. We can’t let anything happen to them. We have to get them back.”
Namjoon and Yoongi deflated, expressions showing that thinking rationally hadn’t been what they had truly wanted, either.
“We just have to follow Taehyung’s plan,” Hoseok urged. “We have to get caught again.”
“This is going to be a suicide mission. This is crazy,” Yoongi was shaking his head, but he was already crouching, beginning to organize their packs at his feet.
Namjoon grinned, suddenly looking a little bloodthirsty. “Is it truly love, if we don’t lose our minds a little along the way?”
❃
Jimin knew he was being followed.
The fear built gradually.
He tried to tamp it down, not wanting it to suffocate him.
He tried to think rationally, knowing that he couldn’t go back to the inn, not with someone on his tail.
Jimin made a slow lap around town, a circle.
He glanced behind him and noticed the same slim man with piercing eyes, the same deep green cloak, the same leather boots with a large scuff on the right toe.
He didn’t know what to do.
They had never talked about what he should do if he was in danger alone, and didn’t want to bring that danger to others.
It was in moments like these where Jimin’s lack of training was so stark, so easy to see.
Clenching his fists, his mind raced as he made another loop around the small town they had settled in, making sure not to even glance up at the inn where he knew where he knew the others were waiting for him when he passed by it.
His bag full of supplies that he had been sent out to get from the market was heavy in his hands.
Eventually, Jimin slowed to a stop and turned on his heel, catching the man’s gaze.
The stranger’s eyes widened in surprise as Jimin stared him down from a distance.
For a moment, Jimin could have sworn those eyes reflected gold.
Jimin stood still, letting the stranger come to him.
Strangely, Jimin couldn’t sense any ill intent from the other.
He kept himself stiff and wary regardless, unsure if he trusted his instincts enough to let his guard down.
“Why are you following me?” Jimin demanded once the other was within earshot.
The man stopped a few feet in front of him and simply blinked.
It was a gloomy day — the sky was overcast and not many people were out.
The beginnings of a drizzle were beginning to stick to Jimin’s skin, and the smell of the forest was strong.
There was no sun out, but the man’s eyes flashed gold again, and this time, Jimin knew it wasn’t his imagination.
Tensing, Jimin forced himself to stand his ground, despite wanting to instinctively step back.
This man was Gifted, as well.
“Heard there were others in town,” the man said.
Other Gifteds.
Did news travel so quickly, then?
Were Jimin and the team really that obvious?
Jimin played dumb, blinking at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The man arched a brow. “Don’t you?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Jimin said firmly, hands clenched into tight fists.
Stepping closer, Jimin hated how he had to tip his chin up to keep the man’s gaze. He moved his hand down to touch the dagger at his waistband, ready to pull it out at any sudden movement.
“Must I flash my eyes again?” the man said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Or would you like to see my scales instead?”
“Leave me alone,” Jimin said in answer, shoving himself backwards and away. “Stop folllowing me.”
“Wait,” the stranger reached out, made a move to grab Jimin’s wrist.
Before he could even think, Jimin’s dagger was in his hand and pointed straight towards the hand that was reaching for him.
“Woah,” the man stepped back, putting his palms up facing Jimin in a concillatory gesture. “I didn’t mean to…scare you. I wasn’t gonna hurt you.”
“I don’t appreciate being followed,” Jimin hissed, annoyed and frustrated with the entire situation. He had been afraid, at first, but now he just wanted to get back to the others. They didn’t need any excess stress, not right now. “And I don’t have time to entertain you. Leave. Me. Alone.”
“I just want to talk,” the stranger said, eyes pleading. “I…you and the others you travelled with…aren’t you from the Re—”
“Shut up,” Jimin said fiercely. “Do you have a death wish?”
His eyes scanned their surroundings, checking peoples’ expressions, catching a few curious gazes.
When the man opened his mouth to speak again, Jimin simply began walking away from the more populated areas, not wanting anybody to overhear.
As he expected, the stranger followed him.
When they had walked far enough away where nobody could listen in or truly observe them, Jimin turned back to him, dagger still in his grip.
“Show me your eyes,” Jimin demanded.
After only a beat of hesitation, the man did. He blinked, and then Jimin was looking into the eyes of a snake.
Vertical pupils stared back at him, surrounded by an icy gold.
“Now your scales,” Jimin said bruskly, trying to keep the awe from his voice.
He’d never met a Shifter before.
He wondered if this man was only a half Shifter, carrying some animal traits on him, or if he could fully transform into the serpent who held those golden eyes.
A sleeve was rolled up and a half-scaled arm appeared, black scales curling around human skin.
“My name is Beomsoo,” the man offered.
Looking up at him now, Jimin found that the other didn’t look much older — perhaps around Seokjin’s age.
“What do you want?”
“It’s true, then?” Beomsoo asked, hope flaring bright and alive in his eyes, which had shifted back to his human ones. “You’re part of the Resistance?”
Jimin glanced around again, ever-paranoid, but slowly nodded.
Though he knew he should be much more wary of revealing his identity to a stranger, for some reason, he truly felt no ill intent from Beomsoo.
Despite that, his dagger was still gripped tight in his hand.
Beomsoo stepped closer, voice lowering.
“Are you here because of the prisons?”
Jimin jerked to attention.
“What do you know about the prisons?”
Something almost playful came alive in Beomsoo’s eyes.
“That’s what’s got you interested, huh?”
Annoyance flared again.
“I’m not here to play games with you,” Jimin hissed.
“I know a few things about the prisons,” Beomsoo said slowly. “I know a few things about everything. The Gifteds here talk. To each other, about each other, for each other. It’s how we stay alive.”
Jimin held his gaze for a beat.
“Perhaps we can help each other out,” Jimin said.
Beomsoo grinned, and for a moment, he looked more like a wolf than a snake.
“Jimin-ah.”
Jimin startled at the familiar voice.
He watched Beomsoo’s eyes flicker gold at the interruption before turning to find Yoongi and Namjoon striding towards them.
Hoseok and Jeongguk were there, too, but they stayed back, eyes trained carefully on the stranger.
“Back away,” Namjoon commanded before they’d even reached Jimin. Both their gazes were trained on Beomsoo, and both their expressions were dark.
Before Beomsoo could move, they were a protective mass by Jimin’s side, and Yoongi’s hand trailed from his elbow down to his hand, the one still gripping the dagger.
“Are you hurt?” Yoongi asked, eyes scanning Jimin’s body. “Jimin?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, it’s fine, he’s—”
Yoongi seemed to have barely heard him, pulling Jimin away from Beomsoo, letting Namjoon step in front of them while his hand trailed warm against any part of Jimin he could reach.
“Hoseok had a bad feeling,” Yoongi muttered under his breath.
“Hyung,” Jimin said. “I’m okay.”
He saw Yoongi’s eyes flicker towards the blade in his hand.
There was no blood staining it — a good sign.
“We were just talking,” Beomsoo said, a little less confident now that he was faced with more than just Jimin.
“Who are you?” Namjoon demanded.
Beomsoo looked towards Jimin, who felt Yoongi bristle next to him.
“I’m talking to you,” Namjoon said slowly, a little cruelly.
Jimin often forgot there were harsher sides to his teammates, ones that they rarely ever show him.
“He was following me,” Jimin explained. “That’s why I didn’t go back to the inn.”
“He was what?” Yoongi asked, voice angry.
“I just wanted to talk,” Beomsoo explained again, almost desperately. “We’ve—I’ve heard rumors. Of you being here.”
“From who?” Namjoon demanded.
“Don’t worry, nobody from the government,” Beomsoo was quick to say. “It’s all hearsay, in the Gifted community. The rumor has been circulating for months, that the Resistance has finally dispatched their most accomplished team…”
“Makes us sound like fuckin’ superheroes,” Yoongi snorted under his breath.
“How do you know?” Namjoon asked, stance still defensive. “How did you know we’re Gifted?”
The man tilted his head to the side, long hair falling across his face.
“Like attracts like,” the man said slowly. “Even without my eyes…wouldn’t you be able to tell?”
Though it sounded crazy, in a way Jimin did know what the man was talking about.
There was a certain way Gifteds held themselves that was just different. Now that Jimin was around the rest of the team for longer, he could see that.
It was in the most miniscule and barely noticeable things.
It was in the way Namjoon picked things up with more care than everybody else. In the way Taehyung avoided looking into peoples’ eyes for too long. It was in the way Jimin didn’t give out touches easily, shied away from skin to skin contact.
Little things that most others wouldn’t notice — little fears and places to be careful where others were typically safe.
Jimin looked over at Yoongi.
From the set of his jaw, Jimin could tell that Yoongi didn’t trust the stranger.
Silently, subtly, he reached a hand out and brushed it against Yoongi’s.
Namjoon held Beomsoo’s gaze for a while before speaking. “It’s dangerous to talk like this. It’s dangerous to know anything about us, at all. We’re going.”
Namjoon turned to face Yoongi and Jimin, catching Jimin’s gaze and doing a quick glance for himself to see if he was alright.
When he found Jimin’s eyes again, something in them made him pause.
“He says he knows about the prisons,” Jimin said quietly. “He says he knows a little bit about them.”
Yoongi and Namjoon froze.
Beomsoo still stood behind Namjoon, a respectable distance away.
Though he had been a bit pushy with Jimin, he seemed to know that he was outnumbered now.
“Isn’t that a little too damn convenient?” Yoongi said, voice hushed. “For him to suddenly just…show up? With all of the information that we need?”
“We don’t even know if he’ll be helpful,” Namjoon said.
“Listen,” Beomsoo spoke up again. “The truth is…I seeked you out because I need your help. But I think I could help you in return, if you’d just listen to me.”
With that, Jimin saw Namjoon’s shoulders deflate a little, his hardened eyes growing a little softer.
Glancing towards Yoongi, he saw the same thing.
And something in Jimin warmed.
In the end, despite their hardened exteriors, despite the untouchable and almost cruel front they had to put up to protect themselves, this team just wanted to help people.
This team still lived with compassion, still moved with empathy.
And that was why Jimin came back to them.
That was why Jimin was here.
“Let’s hear him out,” Jimin said. “I…this is crazy, but for some reason, I trust him.”
Namjoon smiled at Yoongi wryly.
“We’ve been agreeing to a lot of crazy plans in the past few hours, huh?”
Yoongi blew out an exasperated, if a little fond, breath. “It’s because of these damn kids.”
In the end, it made sense.
In the end, it always came back to love.
The group listened as Beomsoo spoke of a boy who held his heart.
He spoke of a boy who never, not once, shied away from the scales on his skin, from the predator in his eyes, despite the rest of the world skirting around him since the day he was born.
He spoke of a boy who caught voices like songbirds, could hear someone speak and replicate the exact tone, the exact sound.
He spoke of a boy who had a million voices but only one wish — to live as freely as the birds that he loved to sing with.
Now, he was caught in bonds, shackled by a prison and a hardened world.
“It’s been almost a year, now,” Beomsoo said. “Since they took him…it’s been almost a year.”
His hands shook, and he clenched them into fists to control the trembling.
“Everybody knows that once you’re caught, you never get back out. That’s what everybody tells me. Getting caught is the same thing as death, for us. Maybe worse. There’s no escaping.”
Hoseok’s breath caught in his throat, thinking of Taehyung and Seokjin.
“But we’re getting stronger — smarter,” Beomsoo said, a fire burning in his eyes. “We are. You know this — you’re part of it. You’re the head of it.”
At the confusion in their eyes, Beomsoo tilted his head to the side.
“One of you is Kim Namjoon, right?”
Though he phrased it as a question, his voice was sure.
Their gazes flew to Namjoon, and Beomsoo looked to him.
“When us Gifteds lower our eyes to pray, who do you think we’re praying to?” Beomsoo asked quietly. “What Gods out there could be merciful and just allow this to happen? Watch Gifteds get murdered, brainwashed, used up and tossed away? Our hope lives in your hands, now. In Bangtan — the team risen from The Resistance, yes, but lead by Kim Namjoon. When we lower our eyes to pray, we think of all of you.”
They were stunned to silence.
“There’s more of us out there than you think,” Beomsoo continued. “There are hundreds of thousands of people with Bangtan’s name on their lips. You have our support.”
Jimin’s heart raced.
Looking at Yoongi, he saw his hyung swallow thickly, eyes shining.
What Beomsoo said had hope blooming heavily within Jimin’s stomach.
Gifteds were gathering, and growing stronger, not just within The Resistance, but everywhere.
They were fighting back.
They were reaching, screaming, reclaiming their right to live.
And it seemed as if Gifteds were propelled forward by them.
What a beautiful thought.
What a horrible, terrifying thought.
Finally, Yoongi let out a small noise of amusement.
“Bangtan,” Yoongi said, tongue rolling through the syllables like they were familiar. Intimate. “Never thought that stupid name we came up with all those years ago would stick.”
Namjoon flashed his dimples, eyes still serious but lips quirking up. “I knew it had a good ring to it.”
“We were kids,” Yoongi said softly, eyes faraway. “When we named our team, we were kids.”
“We were,” Namjoon agreed, laughing. “But nothing’s changed. All these years later…we’re still fighting for the same thing, aren’t we?”
And — yeah.
It made sense, in the end.
It always came back to love.
❃
They learned that Beomsoo was anchored by a group of Gifteds, all of them scattered around the neighboring towns.
They didn’t all meet up often, for fear of attracting attention, but they communicated every day, sharing information they’ve learned, warning each other when government guards passed through.
“That’s how I knew to find you,” Beomsoo said, looking at Jimin. “There was word that your team was in the area, somewhere.”
Jimin nodded, mind still racing.
Beomsoo had said that their group gave other Gifteds hope, but for Jimin, it was the opposite.
It made him feel less alone, the knowledge that other Gifteds were out there fighting, too.
“It’s been our main goal to break out the prisoners for years,” Beomsoo explained. “But many of our Gifts are Docile. And many of us aren’t as comfortable with using our Gifts — it’s hard to be, when you have to spend your entire life hiding it.”
The team nodded in understanding.
“But you’ve noticed, haven’t you? On the prisoners?” Beomsoo raised an arm, twisting it back and forth in the air.
“The bracelets,” Hoseok breathed.
“Yea,” Beomsoo nodded, eyes glinting. “That’s the power behind it all.”
“Explain,” Yoongi urged, eyes trained on Beomsoo. They were seated, now, voices low so that the darkness and the sounds of the forest at night could cover their conversation. The length of Yoongi’s body was warm pressed against Jimin’s, and sitting so close like this Jimin was aware of Yoongi’s every breath, his every sound.
Jimin wanted to press closer.
“Well, not the bracelets exactly,” Beomsoo said. “But a Compellor.”
“A Compellor,” Jeongguk repeated.
Beomsoo nodded. “Whoever they are…they’re powerful. Insanely so. I don’t know much about the Gift, but I know enough that not just any Compellor would be able to hold that much power over so many people all the time, even with the help of the bracelets.”
Jimin’s mind raced, trying to process the new information.
“The bracelets do make it easier, though,” Beomsoo said. “We have evidence to believe that somehow, the Compellor has made it so that the mind of anybody wearing these bracelets — the ones they put on every Gifted prisoner — is under their command.”
“That’s why,” Jimin breathed out, thinking back to Seokjin looking at them as if they were strangers.
It hadn’t been him.
That empty look in their hyung’s eyes, that lack of familiary — it hadn’t been him.
Their Compellor had, somehow, been Compelled himself.
“So that Gifted in the forest,” Namjoon said. “The one who blocked off Jimin’s air. He was under this Compellor’s power, as well?”
“We think that they send Gifted prisoners out sometimes, at night,” Beomsoo said. “To see if they can find other Gifteds. They’re Compelled to attack just about anyone they encounter.”
“So it all leads back to one person,” Yoongi mused. “A single Compellor.”
“It might be multiple,” Beomsoo suggested.
Hoseok shook his head. “No, it has to just be one. A mind can’t be compelled by two Compellors at once. The second one would act as a block, in a way. The two Gifts would counteract each other and the person would be set free.”
Beomsoo’s brows raised, curious.
“You’re familiar with a Compellor, then,” he said.
Namjoon’s lips pressed thin.
“Our Compellor is a prisoner now, too,” Namjoon said.
A heavy beat of silence.
“I’m sorry.”
“We’re no different from you,” Namjoon said, body seeming to bend in on itself, making itself smaller. “We’re — all that stuff you said, about other Gifteds having so much hope in us. In — in Bangtan. In the end…we’re not any different from you.”
Beomsoo reached out and squeezed Namjoon’s bicep.
“That’s exactly why, Namjoon. We don’t need anyone different. We just need someone here.”
When Namjoon straightened back up, he sat taller than he did moments before.
“Alright then,” he said, meeting all of their eyes. “We have it all, then. If we take down this Compellor, then we take down the entire Gifted prison system.”
❃
They planned to leave in the morning.
Jimin knew that Namjoon was worried, because they hadn’t been checking in with The Resistance’s base as often as they should. They weren’t giving regular reports, weren’t keeping the base caught up with what was happening.
They couldn’t, not without others deterring them.
They knew they had to get Seokjin and Taehyung back on their own.
Instead of sleeping with Yoongi for the night, Jimin collapsed onto the bed with Namjoon and Jeongguk, squishing the maknae in-between them.
Since the loss of Taehyung and Jin, Jeongguk had began gravitating towards them for comfort, and it wasn’t something that escaped Jimin’s notice.
He nuzzled into Namjoon’s palm until his hair was stroked, he stared at Jimin until the healer gifted him a smile, he laid his head in Yoongi’s lap until Yoongi patted his cheek.
As if Jeongguk needed the reassurance that, despite it all, they were still good.
They were still a family.
“Is it weird?” Jeongguk spoke up.
Even though he was whispering, his voice carried in the quiet room.
Yoongi and Hoseok’s breathing was quiet and even on the bed next to them, and Jimin found comfort in the rhythm.
Jimin turned his head to look at Jeongguk in the dark.
His eyes were bright, awake despite the late hour.
“Is what weird?” Jimin asked.
“Understanding my Gift.”
Jimin smiled softly. “Of course not. I’m glad to understand it better — both yours and Yoongi hyung’s.”
“Sorry I didn’t really…tell you about it. It’s not like I was hiding it, I just…”
“Gifts are something we don’t really talk about,” Jimin finished for him. “I understand.”
“But isn’t that…unfair? Why don’t we talk about them? When they’re such a big part of us?”
“Secrets keep us safe,” Jimin said.
Jeongguk shuffled closer, a look on his face that made him look younger than he was.
Or maybe, outside the shield of the night, he always just held himself in a way that made him look older than he was.
“I want things to be different,” Jeongguk’s voice cracked.
Namjoon shifted from where he was laying on the other side of Jeongguk, turning to face Jeongguk’s back.
He wrapped an arm around Jeongguk’s waist and met Jimin’s eyes over the curve of Jeongguk’s shoulder.
“Things will be,” Namjoon whispered into his skin. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“…Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way,” Jeongguk said. “Sometimes we feel too small.”
“Isn’t every big thing made up of many little things?” Jimin soothed. He scooted closer to the pair and wrapped himself around Jeongguk, as well.
“Your Gift is lovely, Guk. Creating something from nothing.”
Jimin thought of that air Jeongguk had about him — trusting, and softened, despite the world they grew up in.
Despite every dark thing the world had given him.
He thought of that talk he had with Jeongguk by the river, the younger pulling trust from Jimin’s heart like fairy floss, strands small and unnoticeable at first, but eventually bundled together into a big, sweet thing.
Jimin tried to think of the first time he realized that he loved them — loved this team.
He couldn’t remember the exact moment.
It looked a little something like the shade of Yoongi’s eyes, it sounded a little something like the sound of Hoseok’s laugh.
It felt a little like something Jeongguk had molded in his hands, nurtured with his own tender heart, guiding them all together despite being the youngest.
“You’re good at that, Jeonggukie. Your Gift makes sense. You’re good at creating something from nothing.”
After a few beats of silence, Namjoon and Jimin found each others’ eyes again, a similar spark of realization in both.
“You’re good at that,” Jimin sat up, heart pounding in his chest.
“What?”
“The bracelets,” Namjoon breathed out, sitting up as well. “The bracelets.”
“Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin cupped his face in-between his palms. “Can you do it? Could you—could you keep it up for that long?”
He was stumbling over his words in excitement, in anticipation, in fear.
If Jeongguk could conjure fake Compellor bracelets on the rest of them, they would be able to sneak into the prison as prisoners without truly being prisoners.
They would be able to keep their own minds.
Jeongguk was quickly catching on, mind racing, blinking rapidly up at the two of them.
“I—I don’t know,” Jeongguk said. “I’d have to practice. It would take a lot of my concentration.”
“The distance? Would you be able to do it from far away?” Jimin asked.
Maybe Jeongguk could stay here, where he could fully concentrate with no distractions.
“You can’t be too far from me,” Jeongguk said. “But I…I don’t know. Maybe I could do it. I don’t think I’d be able to actually conjure up real, metal bracelets and keep it up for that long. But…but maybe the image of a bracelet…that’d be much easier.”
Namjoon was nodding, knuckles brushing along his own jaw as he thought. “Yes, yes, that could work. We’d just have to be careful and not let anyone touch the bracelets. If they just look…”
“They’d look real,” Jeongguk nodded firmly. “I could do that.”
The three of them stared at each other with wide eyes.
Jimin's gut was twisting with something he didn't fully understand.
All he knew was that this was it.
This was their in.
This was how they were going to get Taehyung and Seokjin back — this was how they would be together again.
He felt a strange tingling on his wrist, then, and when he looked down, there was a metal bracelet shackled around his skin.
It gleamed in the moonlight when he moved his arm.
Reaching down, he swiped his fingers right through it.
“We’re in,” Namjoon breathed out. “We’re in.”
❃
They woke the next morning and immediately found Beomsoo again.
The latter had stayed closeby to see the group off, but when they told him their plan, the man was quick to agree to help.
Hidden away in the forest, they sat, Jeongguk shifting and shaping the bracelets so that they would match the real ones, down to every detail. It had to be the exact same shade, the exact same width — everything had to be just right.
Beomsoo had his eyes squeezed shut, trying his best to recall exactly what the bracelets looked like.
By the time they had it down, Jeongguk was sweating from the concentration.
“Good, that’s good,” Beomsoo breathed out in awe, nodding at the image of the bracelet Jeongguk had conjured onto Hoseok’s wrist. “That’s perfect.”
“Okay,” Namjoon ran a hand down the length of Jeongguk’s spine. “Save your strength, now, Jeongguk.”
The bracelet flickered then disappeared, and Jeongguk let out a deep sigh, leaning back against Namjoon.
“You’re sure about this?” Beomsoo asked, looking at all of them as if it would be the last time he ever saw them.
Perhaps it would be.
“Weren’t you the one who sought us out so we could help you?” Yoongi asked, slightly amused.
Beomsoo half-laughed, running a hand through his hair.
“It feels…different,” he confessed. “More personal, now. Now that you’re standing in front of me. Now that you all seem so…”
“So human?” Namjoon filled in for him.
“So young,” Beomsoo corrected.
“We’ll try to find your Minjun,” Jimin said reassuringly. “We’ll bring him back for you.”
For a half-second, Beomsoo’s eyes went gold as they filled with tears that he quickly blinked away.
“Bring yourselves back, too,” Beomsoo said.
He reached out to shake their hands goodbye, but when he got to Jimin, Beomsoo grabbed on and pulled him aside.
Beomsoo was saying things in hushed tones for only Jimin to hear, face apologetic, a scaled hand on the healer’s arm.
The rest of them began packing their things, but Yoongi stood stiffly off to the side.
Jeongguk raised his eyebrows at Yoongi.
When Yoongi caught his gaze, he scowled. “What?”
Jeongguk didn’t say anything, just kept his brows raised and looked over towards Jimin and Beomsoo.
“What?” Yoongi asked again.
Namjoon coughed to stifle a laugh. “You’re kind of staring, hyung.”
Jeongguk couldn’t hold back his laugh, then, eyes crinkling up into mirthful crescents.
“Kind of?” he teased. “It looks like hyung’s going to burn a hole into Beomsoo’s back.”
The two continued laughing at him, and Yoongi felt almost — petulant.
“Shut up,” Yoongi said. “He—I’m—being. Weird.”
“Beomsoo’s probably apologizing for following Jimin around and scaring him,” Hoseok cut in. “Nothing to work yourself up over, loverboy.”
“I don’t even know why I’m uncomfortable,” Yoongi said slowly, trying to simultaneously sort out his emotions and his words at the same time. “Looking at them together like that, it makes me…uncomfortable.”
The three blinked at him in sync.
Yoongi barreled on, taking the silence as something bad. “And I know it shouldn’t. I know that my emotions are just. Different. From everybody else’s. They’re bad. So I’m just trying to tamp it down, and I know Beomsoo is in love with his Minjun but—”
“Hyung,” Hoseok interrupted.
When Yoongi looked to him, he had that face that he always had on when he was trying not to laugh at something, the corners of his lips pinched up.
“Hyung, it’s nothing bad, okay? You’re fine. I think you’re just…jealous?”
Yoongi blinked.
Jealous?
“Have you…never been jealous before?” Namjoon asked slowly.
“I’m not jealous,” Yoongi bit back immediately.
“Maybe not jealous like you’re scared that Beomsoo will whisk Jimin away. Maybe more like…you’re jealous that Jimin is paying attention to someone other than you?” Jeongguk said, expression amused.
Yoongi’s eyes felt like they were going to pop out.
“I’m not a child,” he hissed. “I know that Jimin doesn’t have to be paying attention to me 24/7, even now that we’re…together.”
And the way Jeongguk was looking at him — for a moment, Yoongi felt so much younger. In the back of his mind, he wondered when Jeongguk had grown so mature.
He wondered when they all had.
“It’s not a bad thing, hyung,” Hoseok said. “We’re just teasing. It’s normal. You and Jimin are in your honeymoon phase—”
Namjoon and Jeongguk simultaneously made fake-gagging noises at the mention of it, those brats—
“—and Jimin is paying attention to some other guy. You’re jealous. It’s fine. It’s—kind of cute?”
Yoongi knew his cheeks were flaming, and he glanced over towards the pair again.
Were they right?
Was this feeling normal for everybody who was beginning to fall in love?
From the way they were standing, Jimin was facing him, but not looking at him.
Jimin was talking animatedly to Beomsoo, probably reassuring the latter.
Yoongi’s chest felt tight, and he reluctantly admitted to himself that what he was feeling was a little bit petalant and impatient.
His emotions were wild even on his best days, and now, grappling with all of the new ones that he felt towards Jimin, it was hard for Yoongi to understand them all.
When Jimin met Yoongi’s eyes, the healer’s lips automatically curled into a soft smile.
And just like that — the feeling was gone.
“Let’s go?” Yoongi mouthed, tipping his head to the side and calling Jimin back to him.
“Okay,” Jimin mouthed back easily, saying one last goodbye to Beomsoo then making his way over.
When he reached Yoongi, Jimin looked up at him like it was a given.
Looked up at him as if saying, Yes, of course, where you go is where I go.
Yes, of course, I am yours, as you are mine.
With this, a wandering piece of Yoongi, one that he didn’t even know existed, settled into place.
“Ah, young love,” Jeongguk sighed from his spot in-between Namjoon and Hoseok.
The three of them were still stifling laughter at the redness on Yoongi’s cheeks, but — there was warmth in their hearts, as well.
They were glad to see Yoongi open up to someone, glad they were allowed to be there as Yoongi stumbled his way through these newfound, sometimes nonsensical emotions.
Ones that softened him, curved along his jagged edges and rounded them out with gentle, healing fingers.
Though it was amusing, it was a startling reality check, as well.
The realization that they had been so busy training that they hadn’t given themselves time to grow up.
They didn't experience first loves, first heartbreaks, first jealousies the way others did.
The way non-Gifteds did.
They didn’t have the luxury of normality.
But, standing there, watching Jimin smile so happily at Yoongi, watching Yoongi tuck Jimin close into himself, embarrassed and grappling with his own emotions…it was okay.
They didn’t have the luxury of normality, but that made them closer.
It made their bond stronger.
It made their love a little more real.
“Let’s go get Tae and Jin hyung back,” Namjoon murmured once Yoongi and Jimin came close again, closing their circle but not completing their group.
No, they couldn’t be complete yet.
Not without all of them there.
“First step?” Hoseok asked, face solemn.
They all knew.
To set everything in motion, they had to go back to the beginning.
They had to get caught.
Almost bowled over by a sense of déjà vu, Yoongi blew out a breath from his nose, memories flooded with the very beginning of their mission — of the ace of spades, slid across a wooden tabletop as a Gifted was captured and caught a few feet away from them, of the heavy stolen guard’s uniform clinging to his skin, of catching Jimin like a prisoner, of the stifling fear in his throat as he had to act exactly like the monsters that wanted him dead.
Yoongi felt his flames burning just underneath the surface.
He stifled them — now wasn’t the time for his emotions to get the most of him.
The burning fear, the anger, the pain — the love.
The world seemed to sit still.
They were standing in that sacred breath before midnight, that hush before dawn.
It was up to them to make the sun rise on their side.
“Who’s up for another game?”