September.

Week 1.

The doctor had not been lying when he said he had been through all the files in the clinic and not found a shred of hint for a cure. It takes Seokjin just under two weeks to go through all the clinic has to offer and he comes out of it ragged, bags under his eyes, and with the same awful conclusion that there is no hope for a cure.

Still, he refuses to give in.

He turns instead to the town, a living, breathing mammoth of stone and stories. There he thinks he’ll find something more. The people are aware that he knows everything but they skirt him nervously just as they did the first day Seokjin came to town. The reason is very different this time round.

Minjae the waitress is the only one who doesn’t shy away. She never has and it appears that she never will.

She comes to him one late night when he’s still there eating and jotting down notes, the whole of booth 12 his because people would rather go elsewhere than sit with him, and she slides in with a beer for herself and fried rice complimentary of Taewook the chef.

Seokjin asks her what the Fade is like.

“It’s feels like bits of you cease to exist,” she replies, ing her shirt and pulling down the fabric to reveal her Fade patch just under her right collar bone without an ounce of shame. It was about the size of a tennis ball, small and shimmering. Seokjin had stared at it, fascinated with how he could see right through her, as if it was an optical illusion. His fingers had wandered and she let him touch the spot. They did not go through though. Rather it was like touching icy water, the tips of his fingers that skimmed the spot going numb and losing all sensation.

“The spot where your touching,” she says, her gaze unwavering as she watches Seokjin’s mouth fall open in awe, “I can’t feel your fingers at all.”

Seokjin stills.

“These spots, they start to go numb after a while. Eventually your whole body turns the same and after that, well it’s pretty hard to stay hopeful when you just stop feeling altogether.”

She re-buttons up her top and offers Seokjin a rare, gentle smile. “It’s sweet you’re tying for them,” she says as she finishes her beer and takes his empty plate. “We do like you, you know.”

“But you don’t believe in me,” Seokjin says somberly

Minjae closes her eyes and shakes her head once. “Don’t feel too bad though,” she says. “It’s just that we townspeople don’t believing in a lot of things, that’s all.”

That sends Seokjin thinking. The foundation of the Fade is built upon a lack of hope, a lack of belief that a tomorrow worth living still exists. What if then, they were to reignite the hope?

“We’ve tried,” says the doctor in answer to his question. It’s a sunny day and the doctor had messaged Seokjin, ordering him to bring Taehyung to the clinic for a checkup even if he had to drag the kid by the collar the entire way there.

The younger had been unusually sullen and had dug his heels in until Seokjin had all but lifted him over his shoulder and carried him to the clinic.  

Taehyung it turns out is a stage 2 fade. His reluctantly shows Seokjin the patch on his left elbow, a tiny little thing no bigger than a quarter. The one on his shoulder however spans the entire globe of the joint. So far though the decline is slow enough to not be a worry. At this rate he has another year and a half, the doctor estimates.

As Taehyung redresses, the doctor notes down his new hope levels and hands him a bottle of Fade pills. He instructs him to continue taking one a day.

Later he tells Seokjin that Taehyung’s side effect is moodiness and a perchance to lash out.  

It’s then that Seokjin launches his own question.

“We’ve tried,” the doctor says. “There was one patient in her twenties who came in with stage 2 fade. She had a pretty slow decline and was happy and healthy enough, still had her mother and younger brother around. We tried a lot of things but we couldn’t get her past the town’s barrier and eventually her levels dropped to stage three and that was it.”

The doctor spins around his chair and cross one long leg over the other.

“Any other questions?”

“What happened to her mother and brother?”

The doctor pauses to think. “The mother I clearly remember faded soon after she did. Shock I think. It’s quite common to see rapid Fades right after a family member fades as well. Her brother though… I think he managed to leave town before she Faded.”

And that had brought on another question.

“Wait, so people who are born here can leave?”

“Of course,” the doctor says, his tone almost scathingly. He rolls his eyes and then rolls another cigarette to put between his lips, unlit of course. In the corner of his eye Seokjin can see Taehyung sit on one of the white beds, legs kicking back and forth, expression vaguely bored. “So long as your hope is high enough, anyone can leave. It applies to those who come here as well as those who are born here.”

“So why don’t you just evacuate everyone out of here before their hope levels do? I mean that doesn’t erase the problem of those who can’t leave, but surely there are enough people who could leave?”

The doctor pulls the cigarette out from between his teeth. “Because,” he says with a long drag of his tongue. “The only ones who usually can leave are the kids below fifteen, and the ones who don’t have anyone else to care for in this town. And are you just going to send a bunch of pre-teens and people who don’t care about others out into the world? The latter will do fine but the kids, they wouldn’t last a day.”

Seokjin flinches. “Can’t you get people out there to take care of them?”

The doctor gives him a long look. “Do you really think people would adopt a bunch of kids from nowhere just like that? I know you’re pretty optimistic but just no. The only way that will work is if the kids split up and I’m sorry but those kids are tight as anything. It’s just not feasible.”

“Are you saying not only does the Fade bind them here, but their way of life?”

“Something like that. Think of it this way: your mother and your father and your father’s father have all lived and faded here. You’re the only one left but hey, so is the guy over there and that girl too and I guess there’s a kind of camaraderie that builds up. You get little groups that crop up, much like your own little circle of seven, and when things like those happen, it’s pretty hard to just drop it and leave, or break it up just so you can escape this place. To the kids, they’d rather stay together and Fade than leave. And if they do feel differently then the odd ones do leave, and that’s it.”

And that’s the end of that conversation.  

===

September.

Week 2.

Eventually the townspeople seem to settle with the idea that Seokjin is hellbent on finding a cure and it’s probably not possible, but hey, he’s trying his hardest so we might as well be nice and try to help him if he asks.

And that’s how Seokjin comes to learn more about the Fade from the actual people.

“Aren’t you afraid of fading?” Seokjin asks the butcher one day when he stops by for a chat.

“Not really,” the butcher replies, shrugging as he delicately but firmly slices the slab of meat in half, his skilled fingers splitting and spreading the meat quickly and efficiently. “I’m old enough. I’ll fade when the time is right.”

Seokjin squints at him. “How old are you?’

The butcher laughs at his straightforwardness. With a large cleaver in his hand a blood on his gloves it’s a little unnerving. “Forty two this year,” he says with a broad smile like it’s an achievement to be that old here. And maybe it kind of is. The only other person in this town who Seokjin suspects is older is the owner of Lily. That reminds him again that he hasn’t seen the man in a while though his granddaughter does still leave messages and changes the white Lily in his room every other day, often enough that Seokjin has never seem it wilt before.

“I hear you’re trying to find a cure, aren’t you?” the butcher then says, overriding Seokjin’s train of thought. “For those railway boys of yours am I right?”  

Seokjin tilts his head. “Railway boys?”

“Yeah, you guys like to hang out near the train yard don’t you?”

“We do, but railway?”

The butcher offers a sheepish smile. “The kids here like to hang out in little groups. Old folks like me find it hard to keep track of all of them, especially when they come and go and shift all the time. So we tend to just assign names to the groups. Like your kids are the railway boys, then there’s a group that likes to hang out near the bridge close to the docks – we call them the bridge kids – and there’s another group that seems to have taken over the abandoned motel down town, so we just call them the motel gang.”

“Oh,” Seokjin says. It does kind of make sense. At the same time though there’s a kind of depressing note to it Come and go, the butcher had said. Come and fade, Seokjin thinks he means.

“But yeah, I’m trying to find a cure, why?”

The butcher had wiped the sweat off his brow, smearing a little blood on his right cheek that was wrinkled and the hair of his grey bears starting to turn white in certain patches.

“No reason really. You’ve been the talk of the town lately, that’s all.”

Nervousness turns over in Seokjin’s stomach. “What are they saying?”

The butcher eyes him. “To be frank, they think you’re running a fool’s errand.”

Anger sparks but Seokjin tamps it down. “Why?”

The butcher shrugs. “No one’s found a cure before. They don’t think you’ll be the first that’s all.”

“Why not?”

The butcher puts down his knife and gives Seokjin a long even look. “Seokjin-ah,” he says not unkindly. “You may be trying to do good but at the end of the day people here still remember you as the outsider. Half of them still think all you’ll do is leave at the end of the day.”  

“But I’m not!” Seokjin protests. He wonders if the butcher is part of the ‘half’ of them.

The butcher gives him a look that suggests he doesn’t quite believe him.

“Really! I’m not!”

The butcher picks up his knife again and starts slicing one piece into finer strips. “Don’t cage yourself in like that,” he says wisely, not meeting Seokjin’s eyes as lines up the meat and transfers it to a cold, metal plate. “. It’s nice that you care about those railway boys of yours, but all the same, it’d be good if you keep leaving an option.”

Seokjin’s mouth dries. “But everything I want is here.”

The butcher’s knife comes down hard on the chopping board and Seokjin does his best to not flinch. “Don’t say that,” he says sternly. “Don’t cut off that possibility because unlike a lot of people in this town you still have the option to leave and if you just throw that away you’re being ungrateful to your own opportunities. And if anything, that is what I call being close-minded.”  

Seokjin swallows. “I… okay… I won’t,” Seokjin says and the butcher’s face softens.

“Good,” the butcher says and goes back the cutting. Seokjin leaves a few minutes later with a bag of freshly cut meat that he doesn’t really intend to cook. He can’t help but feel an uneasy turn of his stomach as he walks and wonders, by trying to give hope to the boys, is he somehow squandering his own?

===

September.

Week 3.

Seokjin calls Hoseok one cloudy day and they meet at the docks.

Hoseok is there already when Seokjin arrives with two cups of coffee and pastries in his bag. Hoseok sits with his legs dangled over the edge. His figure is swallowed up by a large hoodie. He stares out at the ocean with a kind of lost abandon.

“Hey,” Seokjin says softly as he sits down beside him and holds out of the two cups. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” Hoseok smiles as he takes it, pressing his hands to the warmth there. “The doc says my hope levels haven’t dropped too much over the last two weeks so the medicine’s working. How about you? I’ve heard you’ve been pretty busy, running about town and everything. We’ve hardly seen you down at base.”

Seokjin bites his lower lips guiltily. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Hoseok says, pressing a hand into Seokjin’s shoulder. “You’re doing this for me – for us. If anything we’re thankful.”

“Yoongi still wants me to leave though,” Seokjin says dryly.

Hoseok tips his head back as he laughs. It softens the cold sea breeze. “Yeah well it’s his way of caring.”

These days his laughter is quieter. It’s like he’s preserving the air in his lungs, saving it because survival is the priority when weighed against expressing happiness. Seokjin could just be overthinking it.

“I know,” he says simply, taking a sip of coffee before it cools. “I know, but I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here forever, with you guys.” It’s funny, a few months ago he’d never say such a think so blatantly but it appears that anything becomes easy to say once you screw up your courage and get over that hurdle.  

Hoseok shoots him a sideways glance. “Don’t you have family outside of this place? Didn’t you say you have a house back in Anyang?”

Seokjin kicks at the concrete wall of the docks. “They wouldn’t miss me,” he says softly, his words washed over by the ways.

Hoseok frowns. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m the second son,” Seokjin tries to explain. “My brother, he’s everything my parents wanted: smart, handsome, funny, he’s even engaged, they’re supposed to get married next year. And then there’s me. Just…me.”

He feels Hoseok’s hand sneak around the back of shoulder. He scooches in close and wraps Seokjin into a hug. “Hey there hyung,” he says softly. “You’re not just you. You’re Kim Seokjin, our best friend, and I’m sure someone who your parents care about as well.” He rubs a hand up and down Seokjin’s back comfortingly.

“But I disappointed them…” Seokjin cracks. “I couldn’t handle their expectations and I ran away.”

“And that’s okay,” Hoseok says softly. “It brought you to us.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin whispers back, “and that’s why I can’t just run away and leave you guys like that.” The sea breeze caresses them both, tickling their necks with the tips of their hair. “This is the one place I found where I don’t have to worry about all of that. This is more of a home than that place ever was and now it’s slipping through my fingers, and I can’t- I can’t just let that go just like that.” 

“We get it hyung,” Hoseok murmurs. Seokjin turns to look at him, his pale face and hooded eyes. He smiles gently up at Seokjin and tightens his grip about his arms and waist. “But all the same, we don’t want you to get hurt. And you will get hurt if you stay.”

“It’s worth it if I get to stay with you guys,” Seokjin says stubbornly.

“And what if we’re not here?” Hoseok asks and his question is like cold water running down Seokjin’s spine.

“What…”

Hoseok fixes him with a firm look. “If we do all Fade and if you fail to stop it, what will you do then? Will you still stay here and Fade as well? Or will you leave and go home to face your parents?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Hoseok’s face softens. Seokjin’s much be a picture. “I’m sorry to force such a hard question on you hyung but I want you to see the possibilities. Right now you’ve got this tunnel vision and all you see is us. But you need to know there are other options.”

Seokjin remembers his chat with the butcher, don’t cage yourself in, the man had said and Hoseok’s words ring with the same truth.

“What should I do then?” he whispers half-fearfully to Hoseok.

“Call them,” Hoseok says simply. “Call them and ask them yourself: how they really feela bout you.”

Seokjin stills in Hoseok’s arms.

Hoseok pulls away slightly. “Will you at least try hyung?” he says softly. “Try and I promise we won’t ask you to leave again unless you bring it up yourself. Okay?”

Seokjin swallows. The air suddenly feels too cold, his exposed skin turning to goosebumps. He rubs at them with equally cold fingers. “Okay,” he croaks. “I’ll call them. In return, you promise to not give up. Not before I find a cure.” 

Hoseok chuckles and holds out a pinky. “I promise,” he says.

Seokjin links it with own. “You better,” he whispers and burns this as a moment to forever remember.

He won’t give up on them. Never. Ever.

Years from now he’ll look back on this moment and hate himself because never has he ever realized just how naïve he was then. 

===

September.

Week 4.

He makes the phone call four days after his conversation with Hoseok. His hands shake as he finds the name on his contact list and presses the call button before he loses the courage.

It takes four long rings before the call connects.

“Seokjin?” his mother says, sounding faintly surprised. Her voice is tinny through the line.

Seokjin coughs. “Hello mother,” he says.

“What is it Seokjin?” he mother says quickly. She sounds distracted. “It’s rare to get a call from you. Have you run out of money?”

Seokjin flinches. “No mother, it’s not that.”

“Then have you finally decided to stop this wandering about and settle down with a job? Your father can help you find one if you ask him nicely. Or I’m sure your brother might have some connections if you’re still interested in going back into medicine.”

“Mother,” Seokjin says sternly.

“What is it Seokjin?”

“I’m not giving up travelling just yet. I’ve found some people who need my help and I’m not coming home until I finish that.”

His mother is silent. “Well then,” she says uncertainly. “Why have you called me today? It’s not like you have ever informed us of your travels before.”

Seokjin is taken aback. “I… didn’t think you cared.”

“It’s my business as your mother to at least know where you are and how you are doing. Have you at least met a nice girl? You’re at the age where you should start thinking about settling down in the next five years or so.”

“Mother!” Seokjin protests. “I didn’t call today to talk about that.”

“Then why did you call?”

Seokjin his lips and stares out the gauzy curtains of Lily, summons his courage and forces it out from between clenched teeth. “Mother, me not being a doctor… is that okay with you?”

There’s a pause, a crackle from the static of the line.

“Could you repeat that again Seokjin?” his mother said, her voice distorted as the line warps.

“I…” Seokjin swallows. “It’s nothing. I was just letting you know that I probably won’t be able to make it back for Chuseok.”

“Oh,” his mother says. She sounds disappointed but that could just be the crackle of the line. “Will you be back for your birthday then?”

“I’ll… see…” Seokjin says hesitantly. He knows what birthdays mean: dress-up and courtesies, most of all countless questions of have you decided what to do yet?

“Okay, let me closer to the time then,” his mother says faintly. “We do expect you back for you brother’s wedding though. The date hasn’t been decided but we’re thinking something in summer.”

There’s a lump in his throat. “Of course mother,” he says roughly.

“I need to go now. I have a meeting to run in five minutes,” his mother says, matter of fact and efficient as always.

“Of course mother,” Seokjin says. His throat hurts. “I’ll let you go now.”

“Thank you Seokjin. I’ll talk to you another time.”

The phone call drops and Seokjin lets it fall to the bed, the incessant beeeep… beeep… beeep… resounding in the tiny room.

He slides off the bed and fumbles for a bottle of water on the wooden table. The lid clicks as he unscrews it and half the water splashed down the front of his shirt when he tips his head back. He surfaces, wiping at the excess liquid sluicing down his front.

He knows Hoseok meant well but all the call has done is to solidify his belief that there is no other option than here. As he puts the bottle down he spies a wilt to the lily: one tiny petal curling downwards, a sad little sag to the tip of it. He it with one finger and all he can think is that tomorrow is a Friday which means Soojung will drop by to clean up the place and probably replace the flower with a fresh one.

It’s always easier after cleanup day to pretend that everything is still all okay.

===

November.

Week 2.

It’s been nearly two months and Seokjin still has no leads for a cure. It’s beginning to frustrate him, the knowledge that if he can restore hope it should be enough to save them but at the same time the exact method eluding him making him prickly and unsociable.

The kids stop bugging him with daily text messages and the only interactions Seokjin gets with the others is when Hoseok comes round for his weekly checkup and when Namjoon drops by on his days off to check he’s alive.

As winter sets in it feels like the gentle drapery of despair that covers the town becomes more visible.

Maybe it’s just that Seokjin is actually aware of it now or maybe it’s because the townspeople genuinely do prefer longer nights to bright sunshine, but Seokjin watches as they begin to emerge from their shells, openly making jokes about the Fade, openly telling each other stories that they know is not true, openly showcasing a despair that somehow they are all comfortable with.

He walks by a group of kids telling stories one night. They sit in the shadow of a bridge and their faces are lit by the flickering shadows of a fire, one of those lit in those battered oil drums.

Seokjin pauses in his tread, entranced by the dance of the fire, trapped in the tiny confines of the oil drum. It’s like the people of this town. They burn so bright yet live but the space in which they burn is so small. It’s only belatedly that he realizes the story being told is the very same story that he heard the first day he came to town.

“I have a friend who said he saw some boys board the train,” one of them says. There are some jeers and others who refute his story, but the boy persists. “He said he knew one of the boys. Said it wasn’t possible for him to be on the train.”

Seokjin turns sharply on his heel. Suddenly there’s a build-up of dread in his stomach. “Said the boy was a fader. As good as dead.”

Seokjin almost trips in his haste to get away.

“And we all know that once you start fading that’s it. You’re tied to this town until the day you die.”

No you aren’t, Seokjin thinks viciously. Not if I have anything to say about it.

He pulls his jacket tighter about his body and walks away as fast as he can. Without a place in mind he ends up walking paths unfamiliar and he’s pretty sure he’s lost but he can’t bring it in himself to care.

The boy’s words ring in his head over and over again. You are tied to this town until the day you die. It’s not true. Seokjin wants to go there and take him by the shoulders, rattle him until he agrees with him and says elsewise. They are not trapped here. They are not going to die. Seokjin is going to save them if it’s the last thing he ever does.

He comes to a halt, the night air so cold his breath is starting to coming out in faint wisps. He looks up and there is a cargo crate, blue and mammoth sized, shockingly big up close.

Somehow he ended up in the train yard and he’s surrounded by a maze of these sleeping locomotive leviathans. Most are attached to one another, chain linked by heavy steel locks, their doors closed, their weight supported on the tracks. Seokjin leans forwards and runs a hand across the rugged surface. The metal is cold but all Seokjin can think about is the story: a train that can take you to a place of no worries or cares. I have a friend who said he saw some boys board the train.

Seokjin shakes his head viciously. It’s just a story. Just… like how the Fade had been a story that turned out to be true. Who would have thought that Seokjin had actually found a town with stories so real they leapt out at him, surprising him with its validity when he least expected it.

It was true: you could be trapped in this town if you stayed for too long and people did vanish as if made of smoke or dust.

But that didn’t mean a story about a train that could take anyone away was real, just like how the story of the lighthouse and the seventh step had only been tricks.  

Seokjin can’t help but lean forwards and rub his fingers against the cargo again. If you really are the train, can you show me a sign? he thinks and immediately feels foolish.

“Seokjin,” comes a voice from behind him. He jumps but doesn’t turn.

“Hey Namjoonie,” he says, voice tight with surprise.

Namjoon comes to his side, his hand coming up to brush against the metal body of the crate as well. “Hey hyung,” he says softly. He wears a thick black jacket and as he turns to give Seokjin a half-smile, Seokjin seems the dark marks of late nights on his face.

Before Seokjin can voice he concern Namjoon is pointing upwards with one finger.  “Want to go climb the crates?” he says lightly.  

“Now?” Seokjin blinks.

“I did promise you the first time we met that I’d take you up the containers, didn’t I?”

Seokjin pauses to remember. “Yeah, actually, you did.”

“So,” he offers Seokjin a crooked grin. “Wanna climb them?”

Seokjin finds himself nodding. Namjoon’s face splits into a grin and he reaches over to take Seokjin by the hand and pull him to the side of the crate where there’s a steel ladder hidden in the shadows.

Namjoon tests it quickly with one hand and then a foot. When he deems it safe he lets go of Seokjin’s hand and starts clambering up, scrambling over the top quickly enough.

He leans back and beckons for Seokjin to follow.

The steel of the ladder is cold and Seokjin’s fingers are numb by the time he crawls over the top but it’s worth it for the sight. The rows and rows of blue and grey and brown crates are laid out like the sleeping body of a giant python. In between them are the fine black lines of the train tracks. Further away like little toy houses stands the town, and beyond it a pale wash of the ocean.

This is the town he has come to love and if anything, this reconfirms how much Seokjin wants to stay. But it also brings with it a lurching sense of reality. What is he doing here, thinking that rumors and fairy tales will save his six railway boys?

“Hyung,” Namjoon says throatily as they sit side by side, feet dangling over the edge and kicking against the corrugated walls of the cargo. “How’s the search for the cure going?”

“Not well,” Seokjin admits softly. He leans over and rests his head against Namjoon’s shoulder. Immediately Namjoon stops kicking, stilling so Seokjin can rest properly.

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Namjoon says. He sounds uncertain about trying to show his care and it makes Seokjin want to laugh.

“I won’t, I promise,” he says softly. Namjoon is warm and the air is so cold and Seokjin presses himself into Namjoon there.

“The one you should be saying that to isn’t me, it’s the kids,” Namjoon says, his voice rough and Seokjin pops his head up to see another body clamber over the edge.

“Hurry up Jiminnie! My hands are cold,” comes a complaint that sounds vividly like Taehyung.

Jimin’s face appears and he brightens when he spots Seokjin. “Hyu-“ he begins to say but then something shoves him and he tips forwards, face planting on the cargo with a high pitched yelp of “Taehyung!”

Below him and out of sight there’s a sound of, “wasn’t me!” from Taehyung, and then a “it was me, hurry up you two,” from what sounds suspiciously like Jungkook.

One by one they come out, their expressions a little sheepish but they happy as they look over and spot Seokjin and Namjoon sitting side by side.

Jimin in particular looks like he wants to say something more, but he bites it back and just drops down onto the edge of the container, Hoseok and Yoongi dropping into place around him like they’re buffering him from something. Taehyung drops into the tiny gap between Hoseok and Namjoon and Jungkook settles on the other side of Yoongi and suddenly like an old heartache, Seokjin feels like he wants to cry.

Its feel like it’s been years, not just mere weeks, since they’ve last all been together, just sitting somewhere idly, the presence of one another comfort enough.

“Hyung,” Jimin suddenly says, his voice wavering in the cold air as he speaks. “I… we… we wanted to tell you something.”

Seokjin leans forwards so he can see Jimin properly. His lower lip is chewed red with worry, his eyes flicker downwards at the gravel far below their feet.

“What is it?” Seokjin asks. He feels Namjoon’s hand grip his arm, anchoring him in place so he doesn’t slip or fall or anything.

Jimin glances at him briefly, then away. Next to him Hoseok nudges his shoulder. “Go on,” he whispers encouragingly and Jimin his lips and nods.

“I know you’re doing all of this to help us hyung but… we miss you,” Jimin says simply and there’s the pang in Seokjin’s heart again. He’s not the only one who has been missing their nightly meet ups either. But what is he to do? The search for a cure is consuming all his free time. If he just drops it to play with them…

“It’s okay,” Hoseok says suddenly, blinking warmly at him. “It’s okay to not be looking for a cure twenty four seven. Spend more time with us, the kids miss you.”

As if on cue Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook peer over with large soulful eyes.

“But…” Seokjin wavers.

Yoongi snaps. He leans over, a harassed look on his face. “You’re not in a rush are you? Hoseok still has another three months or so before he reaches any dangerous levels so why don’t you chill. You can balance the search and spending more time with us can’t you?”

“But what if it suddenly worsens…” Seokjin says softly, his worst fears coming to surface. “What if I don’t find the cure in time?”

“There’s a lot of what ifs,” Yoongi drawls. “So right back at you, what if tomorrow I suddenly fall into the ocean and drown. What if tomorrow Namjoon hits his head after tripping over his own big feet and doesn’t wake up. What if we find a new hideout and you’re not there to see it. What if the ahjumma down at the bakery decides to give us free stuff tomorrow night and you miss out huh?”

Seokjin blinks.

Namjoon sighs. “What Yoongi-hyung is trying to get across is that we get finding a cure is important, but isn’t spending time with us as well?”

Oh. Seokjin bites at his lower lip. “Of course it is,” he says quietly.

“Then stay with us tonight,” Hoseok says.

Seokjin pauses. There are a million other things he could be doing with regards to advancing the search for the cure but at the same time Seokjin knows most of them will have dead ends. He’s exhausted himself in the search and at the same time he’s alienated himself. But his friends, his six sweet friends are still here and still extending their hands, and they don’t care whether he’s succeeded or failed – they just want him back.

“Okay,” Seokjin says and it’s easier to say than he imagined.

There is no look of disappointment or frown of reproach. There’s just six smiles that Seokjin gets, each very different but each equally pleased.

They sit atop the cargo crate for another hour or so, soaking up the view and trading jokes and banter until the sky turns grey and the night too cold to sit there for long. The kids start chasing each other around atop the cargo crates to warm up, leaping back and forth the gaps between each crate easily but Seokjin can’t suppress the heartbeat of alarm every time one of them does jump, fearful that they’ll misjudge and slip and fall, but they don’t.

They’re surefooted, they’ve done this before. They jump like they’re dancing, legs and arms outstretched. They look beautiful and free, unweighted by death and responsibility and Seokjin thinks that maybe this is another side effect of the Fade: they know they’re going to die someday so they live their lives to the fullest.

And that doesn’t mean achieving the highest grade in school or getting a stable job with income that any parent would swoon over. It means taking the happiness and sadness of everyday and just accepting it. It means finding the little things in life that make you happy and embracing them and Seokjin thinks that this is a lesson he’s missed out on his entire life.

Namjoon stands and stretches his long legs, looks down at him with a broad smile and offers him a hand to help pull him to his feet.

“It’s okay to go slow and steady,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. “We’re not that fragile that we’re going to Fade just like that. We can hold on, for you we can.”

The warmth in Seokjin’s chest blooms, heady like wine, and he smiles.

Later they clamber down the ladder and walk the way back to the carpark lot by following the train tracks. The gravel beneath his shoes bite but the warmth of the bodies about him soothes everything.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and thinks that yeah maybe he was rushing things. Maybe he’s always rushed things and that’s why things turned out the way they did.

Opens his eyes to see Jungkook who is balancing along one of the rails and has a hand on Seokjin and Yoongi’s should respectively peering down at him.

“Are you okay hyung?” he asks quietly because he knows Seokjin won’t want the others to hear. Only Yoongi can and Yoongi doesn’t respond, just measures his steps with Seokjin so that Jungkook doesn’t topple.

Seokjin nods. “Yeah Jungkook,” he says. “I’m fine.”

Fine is a good word. It means I’m not perfectly happy and one with the world, but neither am I so bad off that I’d have reason to cry all day long.

He’s fine and they’re fine.

He won’t find the cure today and maybe not tomorrow, but the day after that, who knows?

They stumble back to the car park lot sometime before eleven. The sky is dark and the air is frigid. Yoongi lights a fire in this small round metal tin and they huddle about it on the raggedy seats that Seokjin feels like he hasn’t seen in ages.

They talk for hours and hours, Seokjin being filled in on what he’s missed the past few weeks and the others learning what Seokjin has been doing, then other things like how Taehyung nearly saw a dolphin in the port the other day but Jungkook still thinks it was just a lump of wood, of how Yoongi’s got a promotion at work so he gets a higher pay, or how Namjoon is thinking of quitting his job at the gas station to find something a ‘little less toxic smelling’ as he says.

Seokjin realized with a kind of surge that you can miss so much if you don’t look.

They talk and they talk and they talk and somewhere past one in the morning they start to drop off, their heads nodding and their eyes falling close. The fire dies down to mere embers and the cold creeps in again but somewhere half between the realms of wakefulness and complete sleep, Seokjin feels someone press up against him, warm and comforting. Elsewhere he can hear the soft breaths of the other boys and it’s so, so comforting. And embraced like that, Seokjin sleeps more peacefully than he ever has in months.

===

December.

Christmas will be swinging around soon and whilst no one in the town really celebrates it per say, they do participate in the whole gift exchange thing. Seokjin figures he better start with finding their gifts now rather than at the last minute.

He’s in the town center now, peering into a window shop front which seems to be selling knitted hats. He’s eyes the blue and maroon one that he thinks would look good on Jimin. Then again the forest green one yells completely Taehyung.

Speak of the devil and he shall call.

Seokjin’s phone vibrates and he tugs it out of a pocket. Taehyung’s name is the caller ID. He swipes it and its puts it to his ear.

“Hyung…” Taehyung rasps, his voice unusually low and somber. Maybe it’s just the phone line. They don’t exactly have the greatest connection here.

“Yes Taehyung? What’s up?”

“Hyung…I…” a deep rattling breath. Seokjin stills.

“Are you okay Taehyung?”

“I want to see you hyung,” Taehyung all but whispers. “Can I see you?”

“Where are you?” Seokjin says immediately. “I’ll come to you.”

He’s turning on his heel briskly, practically marching down the street as he waits for Taehyung to answer. He can’t keep still, there’s a shiver in his bones that’s making him fear for the worst. Surely Taehyung’s levels couldn’t have dropped that quickly, could they?

But before Taehyung can tell him where he is there’s a screech and a dull thud and Seokjin spins on his heels at the sounds of screams. His heart shakes and he can’t help his feet that walk over, his heart thudding in time to his heavy footsteps. Over the phone Taehyung is silent.

It’s just around the corner and he doesn’t know why he’s looking; it could be anyone, anyone, absolutely-

There’s a black car stopped in the middle of the road. The driver is out and kneeling at the floor. Seokjin walks closer, feeling like he’s half dreaming.

A small crowd has built up and Seokjin has to push his way through them. There’s some shuffling and a complaint as he steps on someone’s foot but all of that pales as he pushes to the front and sees a pitying look from someone opposite him.

A look for him.

Not the kid on the floor.

Seokjin kneels next to the driver and his hand shakes.

It’s not Taehyung.

“Oh Jungkook,” Seokjin sobs as he catches sight of the dull drip of red blood under the fall of his soft black hair. In his hand there’s a tinny voice coming from his phone.

“Hyung? Hyung? Is everything okay hyung?”  

It's not. 

===