Seokjin sighed contently as warm lips trailed across his bare shoulder, sparking all the nerve endings along the way.

Because it was so early in the morning, and probably because Seokjin had slept so well aided by Namjoon and alcohol, his reply came out a little rough and not unlike a rumble. He said, face half burred in a pillow, “I’m not normally this easy.”

Namjoon, who was crowded up against him, smiled against Seokjin’s smooth skin. “Trust me, there’s nothing easy about you.”

Light was just starting to filter its way into the bedroom Namjoon called his own, and Seokjin wasn’t looking forward to getting up and breaking the illusion of perfection they’d managed to achieve.

But fondly he recalled the night before … or the early morning hours. They’d kissed and kissed until Namjoon was panting and Seokjin’s lips hurt. Then Namjoon had brought them to his place, and Seokjin, so lost in the overwhelming feelings he was experiencing, started pulling at Namjoon’s clothes before they even hit the bedroom.

They hadn’t had . They could have, Seokjin was aware of that fact, but they hadn’t. Namjoon had pressed him down against the mattress in a reverent way, and proceeded to worship Seokjin’s skin with his mouth. But at no point in the early morning hours had Namjoon’s hands strayed to the underwear Seokjin wore, so Seokjin hadn’t pushed the issue.

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Seokjin commented when his thoughts slipped out for Namjoon to hear.

Namjoon laughed deeply, and then he was using his big, warm hands to turn Seokjin over on his back, and in one fluid movement Namjoon straddled his hips.

“Everything,” he insisted, leaning down to kiss Seokjin properly, “about you is a compliment.”

A shiver of a thrill crashed through Seokjin just before Namjoon’s mouth attacked his neck. And then he was , almost obscenely loud, as Namjoon’s teeth bit and pulled at the delicate skin, before kissing apologies to the area and caressing it with his tongue. When the suction started, with the kind of intent that meant only one thing, Seokjin threw his arms around Namjoon’s neck to tug him closer.

“You’re impossible,” Seokjin said, out of breath when Namjoon gave his neck one final kiss and rested calmly against him. The weight of Namjoon’s body, heavy but not oppressing, was a kind of comfort Seokjin hadn’t expected. He liked the feel of being so encompassed and safe.

Eventually Namjoon rolled to the side, tucked an arm around Seokjin and was quiet.

Seokjin liked the quiet. He liked the ease and comfort of which they could lay together in the still dark bedroom, twisting together like they were one. He liked that Namjoon knew just the right way to move around him, whether instinctively or not, and he liked even more how well they fit together.

Seokjin felt a sudden pressure on his wrist, and when he looked Namjoon was toying with his medical alert bracelet.

He waited for Namjoon to ask, “Will you tell me about this?”

“I …” Seokjin hesitated. If he told Namjoon any of the specifics, there was a chance things would be different between them.

Hurried, Namjoon said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just … I want to know if I should be worried. If there’s anything I can do. If you have a medical emergency of any kind, I want to know what to tell the paramedics, or I want to be able to do something to keep you alive until they get there.” He was somber and quiet for a moment before adding, “And I know it has to be that bad. People with minor medical conditions don’t wear these bracelets.”

Seokjin sat up. His neck was aching fiercely from where Namjoon had all but attacked him, still he put it from his mind. Instead he gathered the sheets on the bed around his waist as he went, even though he was wearing his underwear, and pointed out, “People who have allergies will wear these bracelets.”

“You said it was a heart condition. That day in the car.”

Seokjin supposed, if there was going to be something special between them, there also had to be trust and honesty.

Giving a sharp little nod, Seokjin said, “The technical name is arrhythmogenic right ventricular dysphasia.”

Namjoon blinked widely. “That sounds … complicated.”

Seokjin continued, “It’s an inherited disease, my mom had it, and her dad, too. If I have kids, at least any biological, there’s a good chance I could pass it on to them or my grandchildren. That’s a scary thought.”

“So,” Namjoon asked gently, “what does that mean for your heart?”

Fingers tapping over where his heart was, Seokjin remembered that Jungkook had told him how smart Namjoon was. So, not holding back, he told Namjoon, “It means that parts of my heart, particularly the parts that are held together by cells, become detached. My right ventricle is thin because of that, and it’s harder for my heart to pump blood through it. Over the years, my right ventricle has gotten more and more stretched out, and weaker. This is a progressive genetic condition.”

Namjoon was pale.

Seokjin added, “Because of the strain on my right ventricle, lately there’s been some weakening to my left. The reality is that both are not what they should be in terms of strength, and never will be normal.”

“You can’t have surgery?” Namjoon asked, looking frightened.

“There is no cure,” Seokjin said flatly.

“Then …”

Because Namjoon looked a fraction of the strength that Seokjin knew he was, Seokjin leaned over and kissed his forehead gingerly. “I manage the condition with medication. I have medication that I take every day, and medication for emergencies.”

Namjoon’s hand framed Seokjin’s face. “What can I do?”

He sounded so endearing and Seokjin wondered if he wasn’t falling deeper down the emotional hole with Namjoon.

“I manage my condition just fine,” Seokjin said with a promise. “It rarely affects my life in an adverse way, and it’s not something you have to worry about.”

Namjoon gave a hoarse laugh. “I believe you said your heart was a ticking time bomb.”

Seokjin regretted that. “I guess it is,” he admitted. “The truth is, even with medication and the diet I maintain, I could go at any second. My heart could just give out without warning. I accept that. I’ve had time to accept that. But what I’m trying to tell you is that plenty of people who are much older than me have lived with this. There are some things I can’t do, and yes, there will be moments when I might need to go to the hospital because I can’t get my heart to beat regularly or I’m lightheaded and the warning signs are blaring at me. But this condition doesn’t control my life, and I don’t fear it.”

Almost breathless, Namjoon remarked, “You’re the most fearless person I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Well,” Seokjin replied tersely, “I wasn’t always like this.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Feeling almost like all his courage was gone, Seokjin toppled back against the soft bed and mound of pillows. It almost surprised him that Namjoon had that kind of bed. It reeked of the kind you found in showrooms, with the perfect blue trim, the twenty pillows, and the duvet that was meant for display and not use. The two of them had utterly destroyed the bed with their previous activities, but even now it seemed far more posh than the much smaller and simpler bed Seokjin had at his own place.

“I don’t want to hover around you,” Namjoon said, placing his head next to Seokjin’s on the pillow. “But what kind of things should I watch out for?”

Seokjin shrugged. “I try not to get too worked up about things. My father accuses me of being too laid back and at ease with things, but it’s mostly to keep my heart rate from becoming too aggravated. You won’t see me running much, either. And keeping the surprises, the jarring ones, to a minimum would be great. But if I’m having a problem with my heart, it’s nothing you’ll be able to see before I feel it.”

“I just …”

Seokjin reached for him, smoothing his fingers across Namjoon’s forehead, then down his jaw and to his chest. “Don’t worry. Or try to worry less? This isn’t something you can do anything about. And other than taking my medication and keeping up with my doctor appointments, there isn’t anything I can do. We just have to live with this. And … and …”

Namjoon frowned. “What is it?”

Seokjin gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, then said, “If you can’t handle something like this, or if it’s something that’s a major worry for you, I understand. My father loved my mother very much, but this put an extreme amount of pressure on their marriage. We--”

“We,” Namjoon interrupted, “will be just fine.”

Seokjin the soft skin at Namjoon’s chest. “It’s not going to get better. I really want you to understand that. I was diagnosed as a kid, which is pretty rare, actually, and only because they knew to look for it. When I was young, I could do a lot of things I can’t do now. And there are things I can do now, that I probably won’t be able to do in a few years from now. I don’t know what will happen between us, but you should be prepared.”

Namjoon shook his head slowly. “I’m not going anywhere. I hope you’re not trying to run me off.”

“Never,” Seokjin swore.

“Then trust me,” Namjoon offered. “I can handle this. And I’ll tell you if that changes, but I really don’t expect it to.” Namjoon’s fingers caught Seokjin’s.

“Okay,” Seokjin said. He believed Namjoon.

Namjoon tugged the sheets up around them once more and said, “It’s getting kind of late. Do you want to get up, or just say screw it all and go back to bed?”

Seokjin laughed a little, amazed at how it felt to share a bed with someone like Namjoon. “I would like to stay in bed all day, but I think we both know that’s not an option.”

“No!” Namjoon protested dramatically. He hugged his arms around Seokjin’s middle and acted as if he would never let go. “Bed. Choose bed.”

Seokjin tapped his arm. “Let go,” he said with a smile. “I’ll cook you breakfast if you do, provided you have ingredients in your kitchen.”

Perking at the sound of food, Namjoon asked, “You can cook?” His arms reluctantly let go of Seokjin.

“My mother died when I was young,” Seokjin said, finally crawling from the bed, not feeling self-conscious now in the least bit as he stretched. “And my father ended up married to his job after that. A series of house keepers and nannies raised Jungkook and I. Jungkook did his best to rebel against them and make their lives difficult. I was just curious a lot. One of the house keepers was a fantastic cook. She loved kids, too, so she’d let me stand by her side as she made dinner every night, and always patiently explained all the steps. I’m think I’m a decent cook thanks to her.”

Namjoon rose from the bed as well, took Seokjin by the hand, and led him out of the bedroom.

The night before, or the early morning hours when they’d stumbled their way into the apartment, Seokjin hadn’t paid much attention to it. He’d been too busy making out with Namjoon. But now he could see that the apartment was spacious and decorated in a homely way. It didn’t seem like the apartment of a bachelor … though Namjoon wasn’t that anymore.

“Can I … ask how your mom died?”

The question startled Seokjin, almost to the point of fear, but he knew almost right after that what Namjoon was getting at.

“She had the same medical condition,” Seokjin told Namjoon, “but she didn’t die from it. And it’s remarkable, the doctors always said, that she managed to have three children and not exacerbate her condition. But no, Namjoon, she didn’t die because her heart gave out.”

And he prayed, Seokjin absolutely prayed Namjoon wouldn’t press the subject. It wasn’t something that Seokjin thought he could talk about.

They entered the kitchen and Namjoon flipped on the light. Then he released Seokjin’s hand to open the small window in the room and let the morning air and light in.

“What about Jungkook?” Namjoon asked.

Seokjin shook his head. “He, whether he likes it or not, gets checked for the genetic abnormality every couple of years. He’s been lucky. This is a condition that effects thirty to often fifty percent of a genetic line. He really dodged a bullet that he’s been perfectly healthy since the moment he was born.”

Opening Namjoon’s refrigerator, he was almost shocked to see how well it was stocked.

“It’s my grandmother,” Namjoon said with a grin, sensing Seokjin’s thoughts. “She comes by once a week, tries to make sure I’m eating right, and refuses to accept that I’m not at home enough to really cook for myself.”

From the fresher drawer, Seokjin withdrew eggs. “How about a Western style breakfast?”

“Pancakes?” Namjoon asked excitedly.

“I need flour,” Seokjin said, taking quick stock of what Namjoon had and didn’t have. “We could go to the store really quickly. If we pick up some strawberries, I could make strawberry pancakes. Or maybe blueberry?”

Namjoon glanced at the nearby clock worriedly.

“What is it?” Seokjin asked.

“The guys should be coming over soon.”

Seokjin frowned. “The guys?”

“Bangtan,” Namjoon explained. “It’s something they do almost every morning. They come over, we talk about what we’re going to do that day, if there’s anything planned, and then we split up to do whatever needs to be done. If you don’t want them to know about you … about us … then we should …”

Eyes narrowing, Seokjin asked, “You don’t want them to know about us?”

“NO!” Namjoon protested immediately, moving closer to Seokjin. “If it was safe, I’d shout from the top of the highest building in Seoul that someone like you, the most amazing and beautiful person I’ve ever known, wants me. I just thought maybe you …”

“Wouldn’t want them to know?”

Namjoon looked anxious. “I wasn’t sure. And I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to keep things between us at the moment. We’re just starting to figure us out. Other people might complicate things.”

Seokjin scoffed. “Jungkook is my brother, and Bangtan is your family.”

He didn’t feel like he needed to say anymore.

But Namjoon didn’t seem sure. “So I should …”

“You should,” Seokjin told him, already opening cabinets and looking for bigger mixing bowls than what he could currently see, “tell one of them to stop by the nearest store and get us flour and strawberries.”

A foolish looking smile engulfed Namjoon’s face. “Blueberries.”

Seokjin nodded and amended, “Flour and blueberries.”

“Okay,” Namjoon said simply. Then he warned, “But we’re going to need a lot. I don’t think you have any idea how much Bangtan can eat.”

Seokjin didn’t look impressed. “Jungkook was once asked to leave an all-you-can-eat buffet, because he was eating through their profits. I think I fully understand how much Bangtan can eat.”

Namjoon leaned across the island countertop in the kitchen to steal a quick kiss from Seokjin, then he was off to find his phone and make the necessary calls.

The second Namjoon was out of sight Seokjin let out a breath of relief. The truth was he was a little scared to expose his new and fragile relationship to Bangtan. But he also hadn’t been lying when he stated that he understood Bangtan was Namjoon’s family. Their relationship wasn’t something he wanted to hide from them, so it was probably best to introduce their relationship like ripping off a Band-Aid.

And food never hurt to soften a blow. If he could bribe them with good food, maybe Bangtan would take the news well.

It was a little frightening how much Seokjin wanted them to accept his new role in Namjoon’s life.

“All right,” Namjoon announced, coming back into the kitchen a few minutes later. “The boys are on their way, they’re going to pick up the things we need, and J-Hope wants to know if you know how to make omelets.”

“I do,” Seokjin said, and discovered that Namjoon had quite a few ingredients for an omelet. Carefully, as he set packaged ham and a tomato on the countertop, he asked, “How did they take it? Me being here.”

Namjoon lifted himself to sit on the countertop, but jumped down the second Seokjin swatted at him with an angry expression.

“So, you’re one of those cooks,” Namjoon said merrily.

Seokjin told him, “Yes, I’m that rare breed of cook who doesn’t want another person’s where I’m going to put the ingredients that I’ll cook with. Will the wonders never cease?”

More than once Seokjin had been told his sarcasm and aptitude for unfunny jokes would be something that ended up alienating people. For years Seokjin had tried to curb his thoughts, soften his reactions, and always, always, think before he spoke.

But there was something to be said for Namjoon who didn’t seem upset by his comments in the least. In fact, Namjoon seemed to find them delightful.

The evidence was staring Seokjin in the face as Namjoon turned his nearly body towards Seokjin and his out. He declared, “Okay, I get you, but if there has to be a up there, you’re glad it’s mine, right.”

Seokjin gave his a swat with the spatula he had in his hand, but also accepted an apologetic feeling kiss from Namjoon.

“But speaking of,” Seokjin said, looking down at his own barely clad body, “I kind of think we should put clothes on before the others get here.”

“I don’t think we have enough time to wash your clothes from yesterday,” Namjoon said, and together he and Seokjin hunted through the living room and the bedroom for the items that had been so hastily pulled off many hours earlier.

Seokjin commented, “I paid a lot of money for this suit when I bought it.” He held up a perfectly fine jacket, but an undershirt that had several missing buttons, and pants that were wrinkled, frayed, and probably in need of replacement.

“Sorry,” Namjoon said.
 

“Are you kidding?” Seokjin asked, feeling bold. He tossed the pants over his shoulder. “If this suit was going to die, I prefer it to happen in this way.” And he felt warm all of the sudden, remembering Namjoon’s hands on his hips, the pressure from his fingers, and the wetness of his mouth.

“Come with me,” Namjoon said, nodding towards his bedroom. “I’m taller than you, but I think I have some clothes that will fit you. Unless you want to call your brother up and ask him to bring you some clothes?”

Seokjin asked, “And have to admit why I need them in the first place?”

There was some kind of preening, boastful tone in Namjoon’s voice as he said, “Oh, I think he knows already.”

Seokjin swatted him one more time for good measure.

Before Bangtan arrived, but not with much time to spare, Seokjin ended up in a shirt that was much, much too big for his lanky form, but pants that fit better as long as he kept a belt cinched tight. When he tucked the shirt in, he imagined he looked absolutely horrible, but at least everything fit.

He also, at the foot of Namjoon’s bed and buried under a mountain of blankets, found his cell phone. There were several missed calls from Minhyuk and Victoria, and almost a flood of text messages. He did his best to respond to the most important ones, let everyone know he was fine, and that he’d be back to the clinic shortly.

“Hey,” Namjoon said, covering Seokjin’s hand with his own as he stood in the bedroom’s doorway, cell phone clutched between his fingers. “Everything good on your end?”

Seokjin slipped his phone into his pocket. “Everything is fine.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Namjoon said, kissing the side of his head. “Now, let’s go finish getting things ready. Because when those boys blow through here, it’s going to be a hurricane of chaos and noise.”

Seokjin gave Namjoon an odd look, then asked, “Do you sometimes feel like you’re their dad?”

Namjoon countered, “Haven’t you ever felt like Jungkook’s parent more than his brother?”

“Fair enough,” Seokjin said, heading back to the kitchen. And it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Less than ten minutes later Bangtan were busting through the front door, startling Seokjin into dropping the pan he’d been pulling down from the cabinet. Namjoon was sitting once more on the island, though this time Seokjin was allowing it because of the cheesy smiles being sent his way. It wasn’t that they were unexpected, it was that Seokjin had been under the impression that they’d knock first. He hadn’t known they had keys.

“Hey!” Namjoon shouted so sharply and so angrily that it was almost comical how the rest of Bangtan skidded to a stop, nearly falling over themselves.

“It’s okay,” Seokjin said with a reassuring smile to Namjoon as he bent to pick the pan up.

“It’s not,” Namjoon said back roughly, then Bangtan and said, “Don’t ever bust in here like that again. You need to--”

“Namjoon,” Seokjin said more firmly.

It was Jungkook who broke the ice, mumbling, “I’m really sorry.” Then he bowed deeply. Then one by one, even Jimin who was looking confused, bowed and apologized.

The last thing Seokjin wanted to do was linger on the moment, so he asked instead, “Do you have the ingredients? I’ll start on the pancakes now if you do.”

J-Hope, looking absolutely recovered from his previous illness, handed over the cloth grocery bag and asked, “And my omelet?”

Seokjing gave a grinning nod. “I took out all of the things that I have to put in it. Tell me what you want and I’ll make it.”

Seokjin, for the most part, had been expecting at least some initial awkwardness. But it wasn’t there, and that was off centering a bit. Seokjin cooked easily, Namjoon resumed his almost watchdog position on the countertop, and the rest of the group puttered around the respectable sized kitchen. Bangtan set the table, fetched for Seokjin anything he needed, and once in a while plied him with questions about how he learned to cook, why Jungkook wasn’t a good cook, and how often he was willing to cook for them.

“Done,” Seokjin announced as he shut off the stove and gestured for all the boys to gather around the table. He had several rounds of blueberry pancakes, fruit, eggs, meat, and more than one omelet. It wasn’t his best showing ever, but decent for such short notice.

J-Hope, who looked as if heaven was unfolding on his face when he bit into his omelet, said, “If you can cook Korean food this good, we’re never letting you leave.”

Namjoon shot Seokjin an amused look.

Suga put his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm. “Jungkook, you’re such a jerk. How could you not tell us your brother is such a great cook.”

Seokjin reached across the table and nudged Suga’s elbow. “Not on the table.”

Taehyung’s eyes went wide. “He’s more like a mom.”

In a haughty way, Jungkook announced, “Now you’ll all know what I deal with! Wait until Jin starts trying to make clean your rooms and checks to see if you washed behind your ears.”

A mouth full of eggs, J-Hope said, “If he cooks for me, I don’t care.”

The table rattled just a bit as Jimin slammed his glass down on the table.

Suga, elbow removed from the table, asked, “What’s your problem?”

Jimin gestured between Seokjin and Namjoon, and demanded, “Is this a thing now?”

Most of Bangtan couldn’t see, but since the start of the meal Namjoon had captured Seokjin’s fingers in his own under the table, holding them easily and without hesitation.

“Yes,” Namjoon said bluntly, before Seokjin could offer a more diplomatic answer.

Jungkook leaned over to Suga and said, “It’s like watching your parents get together … before you’re born … but more gross.”

Suga smothered a laugh behind a hand as Taehyung nodded in agreement.

“This isn’t funny,” Jimin pressed, and there was such ferocity in his words. “The last I heard on pain of death we were ordered to stay away from this princess.”

“You’re a jerk,” Seokjin said dully.

“And if we did go near him,” Jimin continued, turning his full attention to Namjoon, “we’d essentially better pack up and leave town. And now you two are having pajama parties? Am I violating the restraining order? Should I leave and maintain a hundred feet of distance?”

Namjoon got to his feet, shoulders squared. “If that’s the kind of attitude, you’re going to have, I suggest you leave.”

“I want clarification!” Jimin argued. “Am I supposed to watch out for the doctor, or am I supposed to avoid him? Are you busy being emotionally constipated about your feelings, or have you wised up that a relationship is not what you need right now?”

“And I suppose you want to tell me what I need,” Namjoon said back, furious.

Jimin shook his head. “No, but I’ll tell you what we need--what Bangtan needs. We need a clear-headed and focused leader. We need someone who understands his priorities. What if we need you and you’re here, playing footsie? I get that he’s attractive, he’s very attractive, but is now the time for a silly fling?”

Before Namjoon could say anything back, and with the rest of Bangtan looking conflicted and embarrassed, Seokjin stood himself and said, “You sound like the jilted first wife in a failed marriage.”

Jimin sputtered.

Jungkook snuck in to the rest of them, “Clearly my brother is the hot new trophy wife.”

“Neither,” Seokjin told him, “should I have to entertain the idea of defending my relationship with Namjoon to you for a second. But regardless of how recent this development is, it’s not something I take lightly. And considering Namjoon and I are both consenting adults, I think we can do whatever we want without the necessity of your permission.”

“You have no idea what’s going on around you,” Jimin said.

“I know I’m not trying to steal Namjoon or his time from you,” Seokjin said. “I don’t know where my relationship with him is going to go. I just know that at the moment, he makes me happy, and that’s what I care about. Not your tantrum. Not your feelings. Namjoon. So, I suggest you either become okay with it quickly, or deal with your issues on your own time.”

Namjoon shrugged, pleased.

Seokjin added, “I’m not asking to join your gang. I don’t want to know your secrets. And if you want to play keep away, that’s okay too.” There was so much tension and anxiety in the room that Seokjin just wanted to sit down and have a glass of cold water. “But let me warn you, if you don’t get yourself under control right now, sit down, and finish the food that I took the time to cook for you, I’m going to put you on my list. And you do not want to be on that list.”

With Jungkook nodding almost viciously in the background, Seokjin was fully aware of how easy it would have been to goad Jimin into leaving. Seokjin had a significant amount of sway over Namjoon at the moment. He could’ve gotten Jimin not only evicted from the apartment in that moment, but also estranged from Namjoon. And he could have done it with only a few words.

But Namjoon and Jimin were friends. They were brothers in Bangtan. And Seokjin didn’t want to break that.

Unexpectedly, Jimin asked, “I thought I was already on that list.”

Seokjin said. “It could go either way. I’m still deciding. Are you going to make that easy or difficult for me?”

Namjoon looked on, appeased with what was being said. And seemingly a little awed, which was an expression several members of Bangtan were sharing with each other.

From the table, Taehyung called out, “Dad was going to get married eventually. Come on, Jimin, at least be thankful we got a hot step-mom who can cook.”

Seokjin swung back to Taehyung. “What was that, Nurse V?”

There were a few more moments of stillness in the apartment, then Jimin begrudgingly said, “I don’t want my breakfast to get cold.”

Stepping to the side, Seokjin said, “Wouldn’t want that.”

Theirs was a constant balancing act. Seokjin dared to think they’d managed to level out the seesaw for the moment.

“Here’s the deal,” Namjoon said when they were all back at the table, and he was holding Seokjin’s hand above the table. “We’re trying this carefully, and we need you to be careful, too.”

Most of the food was gone, and Seokjin knew boys well enough to deduce that they’d be less inclined to sit still and pay attention when there was nothing left.

“So, we still shouldn’t hang around Seokjin?” Suga asked.

“Except for me,” Jungkook cut in.

Namjoon nodded. “There isn’t much, currently, tying Jungkook to us. As far as anyone is concerned, Seokjin is merely visiting his brother who now lives in the neighborhood, if he comes around. So, in that way, Jungkook can act as our intermediary.”

“But no following the princess around,” Jimin inferred.

Seokjin didn’t allow himself to react to the poke.

“No,” Namjoon told them, following suit. “Infinite has eyes everywhere, and Seokjin is safer if we’re not around unless absolutely necessary. And he’ll call us if he needs us. Therefore, none of us, myself included, is going to hang around the clinic, or be going into Infinite’s territory without a good reason.”

Seokjin wondered what it had taken for Namjoon to say that.

“For right now,” Seokjin felt like he had to interject.

Namjoon nodded. “For the time being.”

“Okay,” J-Hope said easily. He’d polished off two full omelets himself and several pancakes. Seokjin was half scared he was going to ask for more food.

The rest of the group gave sounds of agreement and Seokjin squeezed Namjoon’s fingers.

As the last of the food disappeared, Seokjin made a point to lean close to Jungkook’s side and remind, “Don’t forget what next month is.”

Jungkook seemed oblivious, but Seokjin knew it was a ruse. “October?”

“Don’t,” Seokjin warned. “I need you with me next month. I need you and you know it.”

No one was paying any attention to them as Jungkook gave out a shaky breath. “It’ll be especially bad with how things happened with me and dad.”

“I don’t care about that,” Seokjin said. “And I don’t care what he has to say. I have to be there, and I need you to be there, too.”

Finally, Jungkook said, “I will. You can count on me.”

Seokjin nudged his shoulder gratefully. “Also, thanks for being a good brother just now.”

Jungkook gave him a knowing smile. “You know it.”

Just as Seokjin was reaching for the first bowl to start the dishes, a thunderous knock came from the door. Seokjin lost his grip on the bowl, and by the time he had it once more, Taehyung was at the door, cracking it open and speaking to someone on the other side.

A moment more and Seokjin realized Namjoon had shifted towards him in a decidedly protective manner. But it was confounding to Seokjin. This was Namjoon’s home. It wasn’t completely safe?

Taehyung shut the door and dashed his way back to the table. He leaned down to whisper into Namjoon’s ear something Seokjin couldn’t hear, and then everything was changing.

“V, J-Hope,” Namjoon said, on his feet in a second flat. “You’re with me. Suga, go to the West side now. I want everything at a standstill there, nothing that isn’t civilian goes in or out. Jungkook, you--”

“What’s going on?” Seokjin demanded. The entire atmosphere of the room had changed and it was frightening.

“It’s nothing,” Namjoon said, and it was done so convincingly that Seokjin believed him for a second. “But I’m going to need you to remain here for a moment.” Namjoon cut back to Jungkook. “Call up the boys. I want everyone on deck for this. You and Jimin get them out there. We’ve got a sighting, could be hostile, and--”

“No,” Seokjin said firmly. “I want you to tell me what’s going on. I’m not going to sit here stupidly while things are happening around me.”

Namjoon took such a deep breath that Seokjin could visibly and dramatically see his chest rise and fall.

Then he said, “There’s been a potential sighting.”

“What kind of sighting? Of who?”

Namjoon grit his teeth. “Of someone who doesn’t belong in this area.”

Seokjin felt his throat close up a little. “Infinite?”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon said honestly. “And that’s why you need to stay here, until I figure out what’s going on.” Namjoon nodded to Jungkook and he was up in a second, already heading out the door. “We have to be careful in case it is someone from Infinite prowling around. If they got eyes on you …”

The rest of the boys were moving after that, abandoning everything, and were talking quietly between themselves.

Seokjin shook his head. “I need to go home. I’ll just catch a cab, okay? I’ll keep my head down.” He had to pick up Jonghyun’s car that he’d left parked overnight. Then he needed to get back to the clinic quickly.

Namjoon protested immediately, “It isn’t--”

“I need my medication,” Seokjin said, and it was the first and only thing on his mind at the moment. “I didn’t take it yesterday because I knew I’d be going to the gala, and that’d drink. And I haven’t had it this morning.”

“Are you okay?”

“For now,” Seokjin said. “But I need it soon.”

Namjoon blew out a huff of hot air. Then he called out, “Jimin.” He gestured for the younger man to come over.

“Yeah?” Jimin asked, jogging to their side.

Namjoon put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I need you to take Seokjin home before coming back to help.”

The protest was on Jimin’s face right away. “That’s bull--”

“Hey,” Namjoon said sharply. “I’m trusting you to keep the person that has my heart, safe from people who’d try to rip it out of my chest.”

Jimin went silent.

“Take him home,” Namjoon said again. “Make sure he gets there safely, and then when you get back, help Jungkook. This is what I’m telling you to do. Do you understand?”

Jimin looked over at Seokjin. Seokjin was expecting a fight of some kind, but there was only acceptance as he said, “All right. I’ve got my bike out front.” Jimin’s eyes cut to Seokjin. “It’s your lucky day.”

“He’ll get you there safely,” Namjoon said to Seokjin, then he kissed his mouth gently and added, “I’ll call you later.”

“Be safe,” Seokjin told him, feeling his first real hint of fear for Namjoon’s safety since the two of them had gotten together. “Don’t take any chances. I mean it, Namjoon. I don’t want to have to stitch you up again.” His fingers came up to brush against the material of Namjoon’s shirt over the area that he’d been shot.

Namjoon kissed him once more, oblivious of Jimin standing there watching them. He promised, “I’m always careful.”

Seokjin didn’t believe that.

In a strained voice, Jimin asked, “Can we go now?”

Seokjin gave a nod to Jimin. “I’m ready.”

“Then come on,” Jimin said, leading the way.

Seokjin, without much of a choice, followed after him.