because of a lovely reader who asked 'what happened to the other five' and got me thinking. 

There’s a hammering on the window, loud and insistent. All three boys jump at the sound of it, as if it is a bullet being fired into the room rather than sharp knuckles rapping on the window pane.

“It’s me,” comes a familiar hiss, low and annoyed. “Seokjin. Now open up. Quick.”

Jimin’s eyes fly open wide and he rushes to throw aside the curtains. Outside is Seokjin, face tight and eyes wide. Behind him is Namjoon, back to them all as he surveys their surroundings with wary eyes.

Jimin unlocks the latch and throws up the window. It’s a tight squeeze but Seokjin manages to haul himself in; Namjoon wriggles in after. Then it’s locked again and the curtains thrown back and five pounding hearts fill the space of Jimin’s tiny bedroom.

Jungkook is the one to break the silence of speech. “My brother…” he begins with pale, worried eyes. His fingers are dug deep into Yoongi’s hoodie and a thousand different scenes are playing over in his head. Yoongi and Hoseok aren’t with Seokjin and Namjoon. Are they safe? Hiding it out somewhere and having sent Seokjin to come collect him instead. Or are they hurt? Captured and bound by the church and their words. Or maybe even-

“We’ve got to go,” Seokjin says, his words thin and sharp as ice. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and his fingers still.

“Where,” he whispers, his voice hushed but magnified by the sheer terror in it.

Seokjin shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Anywhere but here.” He reaches out for Jungkook’s wrist, takes it with a cold and clammy hand and Jungkook can’t help but shrink away from the touch.

“Not without Yoongi,” Jungkook says and takes a step backwards. He’s not afraid of Seokjin, but he’s afraid of what going with Seokjin entails.

Seokjin closes his eyes and a makes a frustrated little sound at the back of his throat. He nostrils flare and his lips are pressed tight. He looks like he trying for patience, and failing.

Namjoon steps forwards. “Yoongi isn’t coming with us,” he says shortly, stoically.

Jungkook feels the hyperventilation coming back again, the tight squeeze of shiny latex enfolding around his rib cage and breathing is now a task.

“Breathe Kookie,” Jimin murmurs, running a warm hand up and down his back. Jungkook focuses on his touch, on the one-track motion and he matches the concaving and relaxing of his diaphragm to the rhythm of Jimin’s hand.

“Then Yoongi and Hoseok-hyung?” Taehyung asks, eyes so wide that they reflect the moonlight outside. The sky is dark, the moon a half shard that pierces the black velvet night. There are no stars tonight.

Namjoon falters and chooses to answer with a lowered head and a shake.

Jungkook feels like his heart has been pierced and blood is spilling out and over. It’s not a matter of oxygen anymore; it’s a matter of drowning in one’s own fluids.  

“He asked us to take you away Jungkook,” Seokjin says softly and Jungkook latches his eyes onto Seokjin’s, watching the way his lashes catch fragments of light as they flutter down. Seokjin can’t look him in the eye.

“Did he suffer?” Jungkook manages to ask, his words tiny and sorrow spiked.

Seokjin hesitates for a moment and then shakes his head. “He was with Hoseok to the very end.”

Which means, yes he may have suffered, he may have been hurt and broken and crying till the very end, but because Hoseok was there it all pales in comparison.

Yoongi would have braved it to the very end, and so Jungkook feels like he has to do the same. But he can’t. The blood in his heart bubbles out and comes out as a twisted sob. There are tears which blur his vision but they don’t quite make it down his cheek. Because Seokjin is there and he pulls Jungkook into a rough hug where neither can see the other but that’s okay. Seokjin’s hands may be cold but his chest is warm, and Jungkook buries his face in the nest there and lets his grief spill over.

*

It is only a few harsh minutes later that Seokjin has to extract himself from Jungkook’s tight grip and bring them back to the reality of the situation.

“They’ll realize what is going on sooner or later,” he says, trying for stern and gathered, but ending up at loosely bound. He busies himself with wiping away Jungkook’s tears with a thumb under each eye. “We need to be gone before they start looking for you.”

“Why do they want me?” Jungkook says with a sniff, eyes still a little red.

“You’re the closest relative to Yoongi,” Seokjin tries to explain as kindly, but as realistically as possible. Jungkook is young, but he’s not blind. Even then though he has not been exposed to the cruelty of the village as Seokjin and the others has and it is hard for Seokjin here to be kind when what he really wants to do is just grab Jungkook by the scruff and leave.

But Jungkook needs to understand, and to make him understand Seokjin needs to be kind. It’s not easy. For Seokjin kindness is for kittens and the three maknae terrors when they’re hatching up their next prank. Kindness isn’t something he doles out consciously. Not particularly when all he wants to do is kick a wall and swear and curl up under blankets in Namjoon’s lap with a bottle of soju until dawn comes.

“They might go after you as compensation for failing to get Yoongi,” he says slowly, picking his words carefully. “Hoseok has no family other than his mother and even the church wouldn’t stoop as low as to touch her. Your father is a devout of the church and they’re unlikely to do anything to him. That just leaves you.”

Jungkook does a little hiccup-y gulp. “And that’s why Yoongi wants me to leave.”  

Seokjin nods again. “He asked us to find you and to take you away.”

“But to where?” Jungkook says with balefully wide eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Namjoon says with a shrug, his voice low and distant, eyes peering at the slip between the curtain and the window pane as if he feels they are going to be jumped at any moment. “The world is a big place Jungkook.”

“And we’re never coming back here again?” Jungkook says and he’s not certain if its hope or sadness in his tone.  

“Do you want to?” Seokjin asks him carefully, but he sounds surprised. There is nothing left in his village for Seokjin or Namjoon, not family, not friends. He was under the impression that now that Yoongi is gone, the same goes for Jungkook.

“But Jimin and Taehyung,” Jungkook says, turning slightly and Seokjin swears internally. He’s forgotten that they’re not arbitrarily coming along. Of course not. They have families of their own, mothers and fathers who have not exiled them from the house and home for loving people who they shouldn’t.

“I’m coming with you,” Taehyung says instantly, his eyes bright and burning as strongly as the embers in his orange dyed hair. Seokjin knows that he got the dye cheap off some one-time trader who had popped by the village to test the waters out. It had taken the trader three days and two purchases to realize that no one in the village other than Taehyung was interested in his unusual assortment of goods. But then again Taehyung has always been a little out of the ordinary.

“Your mother and father-“ Jungkook begins, but Taehyung cuts him off with a shake of his head, the fringe swaying as he does so. It’s getting long, Seokjin thinks, too long for village decree.

“They won’t notice a thing. Me being there or not, it makes no difference to them.”

Seokjin’s heart gives way a little and the kindness seeps out. The sympathy. It’s easy to forget in a strongly homophobic village that your ual orientation is not the only reason for parents to be detached.

“I’ll go grab my stuff,” Taehyung says, a little too quietly, and then is out the window. He turns briefly to shoot Jungkook a bright smile, if a bit forced. “It’s okay Kookie,” he grins. “I want to see the world out there as well.”

Jungkook returns with a slightly uncertain smile and then Taehyung is out the window and back in his house. Jimin pulls back the curtains but leaves the window open and then it is three pairs of eyes staring him down.

“Your mother and father still care for you,” Jungkook says in a tiny voice and everyone knows that he would love – adore – for Jimin to come along, all five of them together forever, but his words are true. Out of all seven of them, Jimin has always had the most stable and loving of families. His father is hard working and well respected; his mother is kind and friendly. Jimin has no reason to leave the village.

The door opens and all four of them jump. It is Jimin’s mother standing there, her shadow long and illuminated by the lights of the hallway. “Go,” she says in a quiet voice, eyes downcast and lips quivering.

“What?” Jimin says in a shocked tone.

“Go with them,” his mother says in embellishment, her voice steadying slightly. “Namjoon is right. The world is a big place and this village will only constrain you. Go with them. See the world with your own two eyes.”  

“But appa-“ Jimin exhales and his hands tremble at his side.

“Your father would want this for you as well,” his mother says with a soft smile and there is a glimmer of tears at the corners of her eyes.

 “But-“ Jimin takes a step forwards and his mother takes one as well, closing the distance between the two of them. She enfolds him into a loving hug and Jimin rests his head on her shoulder. He fits perfectly in her fold, but he is still growing and one day he will be taller than her. She may not get to see that day come.  

“This village has changed,” she murmurs into his hair, the downy part at the back of his neck with one hand. Her marriage band glints, copper and silver, beaten into shape by her husband twenty years ago. It’s a simple thing, quite unlike what the village has become these days. “This is not a place I want you to grow old and die in. Go. Spread your wings. See what is out there.”

“But you and father,” Jimin chokes. “Come with us.”

She shakes her head. “We’ll only slow you down. Five is a good number. You should be able to get passage via a trader’s wagon. Head to the closest city and from there wherever you want.”

“Don’t say that eomma,” Jimin pulls away with tears of his own glittering. “We can make it work.”

His mother smiles, a fond little thing that Seokjin recognizes as the kind of look parents give when they know words cannot convey what they truly want to so and so they try to transfer it all with one look.

“Your father and I will grow old and die here. We’ll be buried with the bones of our ancestors. That is the way tradition has been but it doesn’t have to be that way for you Jimin.” She smoothens a hand over his cheek lovingly. “Now pack your stuff. You don’t have a lot of time.”

Jimin swallows hard and nods, rubbing roughly at his eyes. He stumbles about the room, digging out a backpack from underneath his bed and shoving in random items. Seokjin sink to his knees and helps him, filtering out the unneeded stuff and including back the things that he knows are Jimin’s treasures.

“Take care of him for me please,” he can hear Jimin’s mother say to Namjoon, and Namjoon replies with a quiet promise and a bow.

There’s a quick knock at the window and a hiss and everyone looks up to see Taehyung slip back in with the grace of a panther, backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes are flinty, like being back at home for just a moment or two has cemented his desire to leave.

“I’m ready,” he announces and gives a polite nod to Jimin’s mother as if her presence doesn’t come as a surprise to him at all.

“Me too,” Jimin echoes, standing and clearing his throat to try and rid of the gritty roughness in his voice.

“Take this,” his mother says and holds out a pouch that clinks when it drops into Jimin’s open palm. Jimin pulls the strings and his eyes widen at the incredulous amount of coins in there.

“Eomma this has got to be at least a month’s worth of-“

“Take it,” his mother says shortly. She pulls close the string and turns Jimin around so that she can tuck the money in deep, safely. The she spins him round and presses a kiss to his forehead. Jungkook tries to ignore the thump in his chest at the memory of the last person who did the very same thing to him as well. “Be safe,” she murmurs and then lets him go. Jimin bounds forwards and hugs her tightly one last time.

When he finally lets her go, turning to hide the tears in his eyes, she lets him and turns to Jungkook instead. “Take one of Jimin’s spare bags and his clothes. You won’t have time to return home and Jimin won’t need them here anymore.”

Jungkook nods noiselessly and lets her hand him a bag and pack it with clothes and supplies. She vanishes into the kitchen briefly and comes back with a pack full of food which she gives to Seokjin.

“This is too much,” he says wide mouthed.

“It’s repayment for the care you will give to my son and his friends,” she says fiercely and Seokjin accepts it without another word. He even lets her tuck his hair behind his ear, a motherly action he hadn’t felt in ages.

“I’ll take care of them, I swear it,” Seokjin promises and she smiles like that’s all she needs.

“Now go,” she says. “Take the west exit. It’s not the fastest way to the main road but it will be the one they will not expect you to take. From there look for a trader. Pay him, but not too much. Don’t show them the entire contents of the pouch. It will make haggling easier. And make sure they take you all the way to the city. Got it?”

“Eomma,” Jimin says, sounding a little shocked. “How do you know all this?”

His mother grins. “I was a trader’s daughter before I became your father’s bride.”

Jimin’s mouth drops open.

“You’ll know how to make a good bargain. It’s in your blood.”

“Father too?”

His mother winks at him. “Well he did pretty well in wrangling me off my father and convincing me to marry him.”

Jimin gives a surprised little laugh and his mother runs a hand through his hair. It lingers there as if she knows this may be her last chance to touch her son. “Now get going,” she says, her words now soft as down. “And know I will always love you.”

Jimin blinks back tears as she steps back and watches Namjoon open the window, keeping watch as each of them slip through and into the night. She watches as they make their careful way through the square and into the woods, and Seokjin watches as Jimin's eyes never leaves her face until she is finally swallowed up by the pines and he is forced to turn around to focus on the road, and now it's just the five of them.

*

They find a trader surprisingly easily.

He’s camped in some clearing on the fringe of the woods. His two horses snuffle at the grass and he is sprawled on the ground, a hat covering his eyes from the dance of the flames at his campfire.

They approach him cautiously, not wanting to alarm him.

“Excuse me?” Seokjin raises his voice.

The body on the floor jerks and the hat flutters to the floor. Dark eyes from underneath sharp brows narrow up at him.

“Who are you?” he asks, voice rough and rich all at once. It’s shockingly similar to Namjoon’s, but the tone and inflexion differ.

“Kim Seokjin,” Seokjin offers.  

The trader pushes himself up into a sitting position and raises an eyebrow at the four other boys huddled behind him.

“And what do you want?”

“Passage out of here and to the closest city.”

“For all five of you?” the trader says in an incredulous tone. “No way. That kind of weight is going to slow down my horses majorly and I can’t risk missing the next seasonal meeting over at Jongno. It could mean losing out on business prospects and new trail routes!”

“Please,” Seokjin begs.

“We can pay you,” Jimin says, stepping forwards, his eyes steeling like he’s being faced with a fight.

The trader shakes his head. “Still no,” he says firmly. “Like I said, business prospects.”

Jungkook squeezes his way to the front. “If you don’t help us then they’ll catch us.”

“Who?” the trader asks, eyes rounding as he takes in Jungkook’s ragged appearance and expression.

Shouts in the distance cut Jungkook off before he can speak.

“Who is that?” the trader asks, his sharp eyes catching the fire light as he turns.

“The villagers,” Seokjin inhales and he glances around furtively, as if he can see them coming, dark shadows in an even darker forest.

“From that little isolated village in these woods?” the trader frowns. “The one that’s supposedly really hard to get to?”

“Yes, that one,” Namjoon growls, “And they’re after us. So please, we need to get out of here. Help us!”

“What did you do?” the trader gives them a deeply suspicious look. He takes a step backwards and one hand glides down to the waistband of his pants, slipping under the shirt. Namjoon can see the gleam of something shiny there.

“Nothing,” he says truthfully. “They’re after us because we don’t agree with their doctrine.”

The trader looks surprised. “Doctrine? About what?”

Jimin swallows thickly and says in a voice like golden syrup, deep and swirling and sticky, “of guys liking other guys.”

“Oh,” the trader says with a small pop of his mouth.

Jungkook watches him cautiously. Will this man be like the men back in the village, uncaring but still able to inflict terrible things?

“I though this village was pretty easy going. Since when it did it get all callous like that?” the trader scratches at the back of his head. “And so you guys are trying to escape from that? But they won’t let you?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but in essence, yes,” Seokjin says hurriedly because they can hear the footsteps get closer now, heavy boots crunching underfoot. Towards the edge of the woods the trees give way for undergrowth of thick bracken and dead wood. It is easy to hear people come and go.

“Are you going to help us or not?” Taehyung demands, finally losing his patience after being quiet for so long.

The trader looks taken aback at being addressed so suddenly and so sharply. “I-“ he starts, but yelling fills the air.

“I see a fire!” one man shouts, his voice course and unfamiliar.

“Hurry up, over here!” another yells and Jungkook’s stomach does a flip. Are these men really after him? Will they really incriminate him just based on his brother?

Yoongi, help me, he begs silently and the trader takes two smooth steps backwards and throws open the wagon door.

“Get in here, hide,” he hisses and Seokjin takes a moment to once-over him. “Quick,” he urges and then Seokjin darts into the unfathomable blackness of the wagon. Taehyung is next, then Jimin. Namjoon practically shoves Jungkook in and then he’s in and the trader is closing the doors behind them.

“I’ll get them to leave,” he says, eyes bright in the enclosing gloom. “Sit tight and we’ll talk after they’re gone.”

Then the doors close and a latch folds over, plunging them into an all-encompassing limbo, uncertain of whether this strange trader will really keep his word, or simply betray them all.

*

Devoid of light except for the tiny cracks in the wagon door, they can rely only on sound.

Breaths are forced down in favor of straining to hear the trader speak with the village men.

“Hello there,” the trader says, voice suddenly cheery and upbeat. “What brings you out here?”

There a grunt and surprised shuffle. Traders, whilst known to drop in now and then, are still a surprise when they do.

“Are you here to do business with the village?” one man grunts, taking it upon himself to take lead.

“Not entirely,” the trader replies smoothly. “I’m learning the routes. I’m not here for business, but perhaps that will change in the future.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes it is so,” the trader replies, a touch snarky. It doesn’t brush the men the right way. “So how can I help you gentleman?”

“We’re looking for a boy, around fourteen, black hair, slight. His name is Jungkook.”

Jungkook feels his heart clamoring in his chest, running about on tiny little legs, up and down the walls and in circles. Him. They’re really are after him. He feels a crushing grip on his hand and turns to see Taehyung’s wide eyes close to his. Fear dilates his pupils.

“Haven’t seen him,” the trader says lightly.  

“We believe he may be accompanied by three or four other boys. It would be hard for someone to not hear five boys crashing about the woods.”

“Well I can’t say I have the best of hearing,” the trader quips, “but nevertheless I will keep an eye out for them. Now if you don’t mind I need to get to sleep. I have to get up early to head back to Jongno…”

For a moment Jungkook thinks they’re going to get away with it. That this trader and his tongue will secure their freedom. But then, “I don’t think I trust you,” one man growls and Jungkook stops breathing. “I say we search the wagon. Just in case.”

“I think not,” the trader replies with in something bordering on a snarl. “The contents of the wagon are my property and I would think that adults should know a thing or two about respecting another’s privacy.”

“If you’re so worried about us checking your wagon, then perhaps you do have a thing or two suspicious in there.”

A hand slaps against the wood of the wagon and they all jump simultaneously. The door however does not open. Instead there are more voices, clearer now, closer perhaps.

“A trader guards his goods well,” the trader hisses, his voice seeping through the cracks and Jungkook throws his hand over his mouth. If he can hear the trader up so close he fears the men will hear him and his panicked breathing.

Except it’s not his breathing that he hears. Jungkook turns his head incrementally to see Jimin, pupils white with fear and chest heaving. He’s breathing far too loudly and Jungkook slaps his free palm over Jimin’s mouth.

Shhh, he mouths at Jimin and Jimin stares at him, focusing until his pupils shrink and he the fear recedes. The two of them stare at each other, matching their breaths to one another as the voices outside continue.

“I say we break our way in. This man is suspicious,” someone argues and is supported with cheers.

“If you do that you risk business ties with the city,” the trader growls.

“So be it,” one man jeers. “We have the church’s support.”

“For how long?” the trader scoffs. “I’m out of here. Consider my business done here.”

There’s a click as the door is secured by an outward mechanism and stomps as the trader rounds the wagon and clicks for his horses.

“But checking the wagon-“ one guy hisses only to be cut off.

“There’s word that they’ve seen a boy towards the north exit,” a new voice says, slightly out of breath as if he has run all the way here.

Jungkook freezes. He recognizes that voice.

“What are we waiting for then?” someone scoffs. “We’re wasting our time here. Let’s go help them out.”

There’s a murmur of agreement and the collective fading of footsteps.

But that voice.

Jungkook throws himself forwards, ignoring Seokjin’s sharp hiss. He squints through the crack between the door and outside he can see the retreating backs of ten or so men. One man however is still staring after the wagon.

It’s been so long since Jungkook has seen his father’s face properly.

So long since he’s actually looked him in the eye.

Ever since their mother left and Yoongi had fought back, Jungkook has long associated his father with everything that has gone wrong in the family. He stopped looking at his father in the eye and avoiding speaking with him unless absolutely necessary. Maybe though he was just avoiding the real problem all along.

“Excuse me,” his father says to the trader who is stomping out the last dregs of embers. “Can you give him this?”

“Give who what?” the trader asks archly.

“You know who,” his father says, refusing to back down. He holds out a clenched fist and the trader accepts silently as something silver pools into his hand. He looks questioningly at Jungkook’s father.

“Tell him, it ah, belonged to his mother. He’ll know what it is,” his father says in a rough voice. “And tell him I’ll take care of Yoongi and Hoseok. Make sure they get a proper burial and all.”

Jungkook’s hands tremble against the wood varnish.

His father takes an unsteady step backwards. “And that I’m sorry.” His voice sinks an octave.  “For everything.”

“You should tell him yourself,” the trader says, fingers clenched around whatever Jungkook’s father has just handed him.

His father shakes his head. “He would never forgive me.”

“For doing what?”

His father bites down on his lip, a little habit Jungkook realizes that he does a lot as well. “For making family secondary,” he murmurs and suddenly the grey lines in his hair and the dark etches in his cheek become apparent. He father looks a hundred times older than he really is and the church is no longer his salvation.

“You could change that starting now,” the trader suggests, but Jungkook’s father shakes his head again.

“It’s too late,” he says quietly.

“Only if you make it be.”

His father snaps his head up and stares straight at the wagon. Through the crack their eyes meet, though Jungkook is unsure his father can see. Their relationship is like a one way mirror, never truly connecting. “You think one day he’d forgive me?” he says softly, not really to the trader, nor to Jungkook. Jungkook wonders if he’s talking about Yoongi since it has never really been Jungkook who has had the feud with their father.

The trader snorts. “Maybe,” he says and turns, ending their exchange. “Now by your leave.”

Jungkook’s father nods and a small smile spreads over his face. It looks painful, like the upturn of lips cracks at tough mask his face has long settled in. “Thank you,” he bows to the trader and backs off into the woods.

The trader boards the front part of the wagon where there is a seat and a handle to which the reins are lashed to. The trader leans behind him and with a quick flick of the hand opens a small window that connects to the wagon. Partial light floods through and Jungkook blinks, seeing only the shadowy back of the trader. “This is your last chance if you want to say something to him,” he says in a low voice.

Jungkook shakes his head, forgetting that the trader cannot see him. “It’s alright,” he whispers and turns back to watch his father’s retreating back. Jungkook doesn’t let his eyes leave his father’s figure until it is swallowed by the trees and then the bushes and then it’s all gone with the dust: the church, his father, Yoongi, Hoseok.

All gone and dead and buried.

Jungkook sinks to the floor of the wagon and wonders at the hollowness in his chest.

“Here kid,” the trader says, his voice breaking the silence. A hand sticks through the small window and Jungkook turns to see an open palm proffered to him.

“A pocket watch?” Seokjin says, puzzled. He watches as Jungkook reaches for it with a trembling hand, his fingers clasping around the cool touch of metal. He traces at the intricate network of overlaid steel that is the lid, and when he presses down on the button at the top the lid pops open to reveal a clock inside, the delicate hands frozen in place.

“Is it broken?” Taehyung asks, head popping over Jungkook’s shoulder.

“It’s always been broken since mother left,” Jungkook says in a murmur. The day his father had first returned with word of the church and the night his mother had thrown her pendant at him, packed up her suitcase, and then left, in that exact order. It had been her wedding gift from his father, the only reason apparently that his father had allowed his daughter to marry the man. He shows ingenuity and creativity in such stagnancy, his mother had quoted him once when Jungkook had asked how they had married. It had appeared though that in the end all things sink into the mud if left for long enough.

The pendant had broken upon contact with his father’s left temple and then the door. Yoongi had been the one to pick up the pieces and repair the exterior. The clock interior however he could never repair, and since their father was the only clocksmith in the village, it remained unfixed.  

Despite that Yoongi had taken to wearing it, hiding it in the folds of his hoodies. Jungkook holds it to his chest now. If he closes his eyes he can imagine the way Yoongi once used to sit there and clutch at it. Perhaps even the warmth of his father’s hand hours ago, and once upon a time, his mother’s touch.

“I’ve changed my mind,” the trader says. “I’ll take you to Jongno. For nothing. I'm a businessman but I'm not a cruel man. Leaving you there would be like leaving you for the dogs. Anyway, we’ve left a few hours earlier than I expected so we should still make it in time for my meeting.”

“How long will it take?” Jungkook asks, his heart rising in crescendo for a very different reason this time round.

The trader shrugs, the faint outlines of his shoulder in the oncoming dawn. The sky is a lightening blue and it has never looked so wide before, uncluttered by treetops as it is now.

“A few days at most. We’ll have to make more stops to rest the horses, but I’d say four days?”

“And then?” Jungkook’s heart is going to burst out of his chest. His fingers clench down so tightly on the pendant that there will be imprints later.

“And then whatever,” Seokjin says, his voice warm as he clasps a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “We can do whatever we want. We’re free now.”

“Free,” Jungkook echoes and the trader laughs.

“Free is an interesting way of putting it.”

“How so?” Namjoon asks, the rumble of his voice comforting.

“You free yourself of one thing only to become chained to another,” the trader lilts as he shifts the reins and angles the horses onto the left path.

“But at least we choose what we next become chained to,” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Perhaps,” the trader laughs. “Perhaps. Now why don’t you guys get some rest? It’ll be light out in a few hours and until then there’s nothing really interesting to see.”

It’s not a bad idea. Now that the trader mentions it there is tiredness lapping at Jungkook’s consciousness, heavy and tugging.

“There are blankets in the corner. You can use those.”

Seokjin tugs out the blankets and they curl up amongst the crates and shelves that Jungkook can’t quite see in the glimmering darkness, but he can smell spices and wheat and the faint hint of something grassy and soothing. It is like the woods are still with him, the pine scent fresh on the blankets, home accompanying him on his journey to find a new home.

*

They sleep until afternoon, waking only when the wagon pulls to a stop.

Jungkook rubs at his eyes and winces at the bright stream of sunlight through the flung open doors.

“Rise and shine sleepy heads,” the trader grins, sharp toothed.

Namjoon grunts and buries himself further under the blankets. Taehyung and Jimin don’t even register the change. Seokjin is the only one to shift and yawn widely.

“Where are we?” he asks sleepily and stretches, arm nearly colliding with a shelf stacked high with paper that smells like old books and cream.

“We just got onto the main road. It’s been around six hours or so since we left the forest behind. I had to stop and water my horses. Thought you guys would want a chance to stretch your legs as well.”

Jungkook nods and bounds out eagerly. His legs are stiff and the sunlight feels amazing on his skin. Deep in the woods sunlight is filtered and at times magical. Here though there is nothing fantastical about the way the light shines down, bright and harsh. But there’s beauty in the lack of pretense.

Seokjin stumbles his way out after Jungkook, a little less gracefully.

“The others?” the trader says, looking in at Namjoon, Taehyung and Jimin’s still sound asleep forms.

“Leave them,” Seokjin yawns. “They’d prefer sleep.”

The trader smirks and closes the doors behind them.

Jungkook is paying attention. His eyes are fixated on the world around him. The blue sky is no longer what draws him in. Instead it is the dirt gravel to his left, a long stretch with interspersed wagons and horses that clop along at a casual pace. There are traders who wave at each other, grinning and nodding and sometimes even pulling their horses to the side so they can engage in friendly and even heated conversations. The horses are of all kinds, brown with white stockings, midnight black, tan, palomino. They whicker in greeting to one another, soft muzzles moving and Jungkook is fascinated with the velvetiness of it. He has never seen horses in the village. The tight squeeze between pine trees is too much for their larger bodies.

And then, barely able to drag his eyes away from the main road and its teeming occupants, to his right is a large stretch of a lake, blue and shimmering and reflecting the wagons parked around it. The trader’s two horses have drip their heads elegantly into the water, drinking their fill. The water is so clear that it reflects the clouds above and Jungkook is so stunned by it all.

But what takes his breath away is the endlessness of it all. Sure he can see the main road and the horses and the lake and the sky, but that’s not all of it. There are places beyond these that his eyes can make out. In the distance is the faint sketching of mountains, green and grey. He can see the woods behind them, a clustered blur now. Elsewhere there are large white birds soaring which later he will learn are sea birds, heading back out to the ocean.

“And the city?” Jungkook breathes. The trader laughs loud and friendly and points and Jungkook has to squint to see the haze of brown and grey in the distance.

“It’s still pretty far off,” the trader says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair good-naturedly.

“And are there places beyond the city?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide with awe.

The trader nods. “Of course. There are more cities beyond those. And forests and mountains and oceans and deserts. And in each place there are different people and different cities. Different ways of living and learning. The world is a pretty vast place.”

Jungkook can see that now.

The village was such a small and stagnant place in comparison. Jungkook regrets that Yoongi and Hoseok never got to see such sights.

“Jungkook,” comes a tired little groan from behind him. He turns in time to see Taehyung stumble out of the wagon and wrap his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders. “Where’d you go?” he yawns and greets Jungkook with a faceful of morning breath.

“Gross,” Jungkook wrinkles his nose.

“Can’t help it,” Taehyung mumbles and buries his face into the junction of Jungkook’s neck and shoulder. “No toothbrush.”

Of all the things Taehyung forgot to pack, it’s typical that one of them is his toothbrush.

Jungkook sighs and turns his eyes back to the world around him. It’s glorious, like the paintings his mother used to draw. He wonders if she is out there somewhere, still creating art. He wonders what he would say if he ever met up with her again.

One hand slips up to grasp at the pendant again. It’s warm, up against his neck. There are memories in this clock, of his mother, his father, Yoongi. They’ve all held it at some point in their lives and now it’s his turn to take up the baton.

He presses the button and pops it open again. Tucked on the underside of the lid is a tiny photo, taken four years ago on his parent’s anniversary. He missed it earlier in the gloom of the wagon, but he sees it now. His mother smiling, a broad careless thing, and his father is looking at her with nothing but love in his eyes. He can see the way Yoongi has inherited their mother’s smile, all gums and teeth. Jungkook on the other hand has taken after their father, flyaway hair and a slighter stature. He misses them all so very much.

“Do you want to find her?” Taehyung asks in a sleepy little mumble as he looks down at the photograph inside the clock.

Jungkook closes the clock with one hand. “Maybe one day,” he says softly, and he thinks that he’ll leave that one up to fate. But for now his time is with these four other boys. He hears the doors of the wagon bang open and Jimin trips out, staggering over to them and collapsing against Taehyung’s back.

“Heavy,” Jungkook complains, but lets them. The warmth is comforting and it reminds him that he’s not alone.

Seokjin drags Namjoon out, yawning and complaining and they all sit there, five of them at the water’s edge.

Jungkook stares at it all, fascinated. He remembers the times when Yoongi’s eyes would grow wide and glitter as he described the dozens of places out there, his voice growing more and more excited and his hands flying about animatedly. Hoseok would smack his shoulder and that he’d be too lazy to walk all the way there and Yoongi would stick out his tongue and smack him back good-naturedly. Jungkook thinks that maybe he should have seen their relationship sooner, but on second thoughts realizes that even if he did, what would it change?

What matters is now and Jungkook is living in it.

“Hyung was right,” Jungkook says softly, loud enough for the other four boys to hear.

“About what?” Seokjin asks, looking down over Namjoon who is dozing on his shoulder.

“The world is a big place,” Jungkook says softly, holding up his hand outstretched to the blue sky and the blue lake and the blue beyonds.

Seokjin laughs, a soft vibrating thing. It’s very different from his laughs back in the village. Then they were more like crystal, tinkling and pretty to hear. Now they feel freer, lighter. Jungkook thinks he likes Seokjin like this.

Namjoon groans and slaps a hand down on Seokjin’s chest. “Stop moving,” he grumbles, eyes still closed.

“Open your eyes silly,” Seokjin teases, poking his cheek once.

“Why?” Namjoon whines.

“Because you’re missing out,” Jungkook says with a grin. It hurts his cheeks but it feels so good to want to smile, to laugh.

“On what?” Namjoon groans.

“On everything,” Jungkook says gleefully, spreading his hands out wide.

Namjoon opens one eye ominously, glares at their surroundings, and then closes it again, tucking himself back into Seokjin’s shoulder. “Not worth it,” he grumbles, making Jimin and Taehyung laugh. Seokjin shakes his head and runs a hand through Namjoon’s hair and Jungkook finds himself joining in with Jimin and Taehyung.

He feels lighter out here under the sun and the sky. For the first time in his life he can taste the air, the breeze, the happiness, all on the tip of his tongue. Laughter bubbles out of his lungs, light and airy and Jungkook is no longer drowning in the stagnant waters. He’s flying with wide open wings and finally, finally, he is free.

And it feels good.