The door to room 269 is shoved open and Daehyun walks in, nearly sobbing at the sight in front of him.

He deserves to cry.

It’s not until 11PM that Junmyeon notices that Yixing’s not there.

"What," Daehyun starts as soon as he’s in front of his petrified son, his eyes menacing and his hands on his hips, "the hell happened?"

Jongdae smiles and tries to focus on breathing.

The morning of their twentieth anniversary is light and soft and it feels surreal when Youngjae opens his eyes.

Their friends are being picked off one by one, and danger looms over their heads. They have to get out, before it's too late.  

He’s still struggling to realize that he’s a father now when they bring Yongguk home for the first time.

He knows things aren’t quite back to normal yet and that they still have a long way to go, but if there’s one thing they’ve established is that Seokjin like-likes Jungkook, and that’s not gonna change any time soon.

Confetti falls down like rain and everything’s too bright and so incredibly loud for a change.

It's become a game of sorts; Jongdae leads, and Baekhyun follows.

He knows he’ll be alright.  

It feels like listening to the instrumental version of your favorite song for the first time and waiting for the lyrics to start, only they never do- that’s what it feels like. Falling in love, that is.

 The world is big and they still have time to conquer it, safely and step by step.

Junmyeon is spring. Wufan is autumn.

A fresh morning rises on New York, and they welcome it like the good old American boys they are.

The door to the roof is already slammed open when Taehyung finally reaches it, a panting and sweaty mess of a human being. It’s windy and the sky’s a mix of pastel pink and baby blue bleeding into each other and Jungkook’s sitting with his back to the door, leaning against the wall with his knees pulled to his chest and his jet black hair shining in the slowly dimming light.

Junmyeon never really payed attention to the seasons, and it wasn’t his job anyway.

Junmyeon’s not really good with words, but he knows his lips finish his stories for him, and he knows that Yixing understands. He always does.

Daehyun has learnt from experience that Youngjae can be pretty frightful when truly mad, and he doesn’t want to awaken the beast. 

He knows it’s not much and there’s still a lot of work to be done, but at least they’re talking to him now, and he’s willing to accept it.

Zhang Yixing is made out of light and freedom and birds spreading their wings and flying away; it’s Junmyeon’s job to sit there and admire that about his husband, because he knows that he himself is made out of metal and salty ocean water, and those things are not even close to being as perfect as Zhang Yixing.

They're seven guys living in the same house; Yoongi and Jungkook are just being practical, really.

And for the first time in Kyungsoo's life, his wish doesn’t fade into thin air.

Sometimes, you need to have someone with the ability to see things that you consider to be out of sight.

It’s been six months since the apocalypse. Earth was withering and the skies frowned down at them; the wind wept and the seasons halted.

jungkook collapses in chile. naturally, they worry.

Kyungsoo swallows and makes a nervous gurgling sound in the back of his throat, knowing that it’s too late to try and hide everything now- Jongin’s eyes dart from his wrist to the blood drops and the razor on the floor and back to his wrist, over and over again, and then he talks.

And the truth is that if he’d die tomorrow, he’d die without anyone knowing him, the real him, and that bothers him a little.

The waves glimmered crystal blue and the air smelled of salt and oil. The seagulls cried above their heads, as if bidding them farewell.