Hoseok doesn’t like Seokjin the first time they meet. He doesn’t hate him either, he doesn’t have the energy to form an opinion. He registers this new trainee with weary indifference, his hard won privilege as one of the few who made it this far.

“Can you dance?” he asks, because in that moment it seems important.

Seokjin shakes his head. Hoseok tells him it will be hard, then collapses into bed.

His dreams are filled with ballerinas and breakdancers, fading to black when he tries to join in. Hyosang, Yoongi and Namjoon scare themselves witless with the prospect that their music may not be taken seriously, but they’re not the only artists with their credibility on the line here.

The eight of them collapse in a sweaty heap at the end of dance practice. Hoseok’s just about warmed to most of them enough to believe the casual arms slung around his neck and waist are imbued with genuine affection, moving past the days where they seemed predestined to mistrust one another.

“I’m not cut out for this,” Seokjin laughs along with Hyosang. The pair of them are terrible dancers with pretty faces, they’re made for each other.

Hoseok works himself thin, dancing long into the night with Jimin and Jungkook only to fall asleep on Yoongi’s shoulder in the studio the next morning. All of this, these boys, this music, these eyes that only fall closed when they can’t stay open any longer, is his empire. The future is uncertain, but he was raised up by Park Jinyoung and to so much as entertain the possibility of failure is Not Good Enough.

Seokjin is quiet and calm, he stays out of people’s way, keeps to himself. He’s still learning the basics as the rest of them scramble to perfect their respective crafts. He can’t dance, he can’t rap, he can barely sing; he sits, demure and tidy amongst this mess of lost boys and claims a position of unobtrusive authority over them. Good looking, well spoken, Hoseok’s shocked to find he’s everything they’ve been missing all along.

Namjoon shrugs, “I have no idea what Bang PD was thinking, but I like him.”

“With a face like that, how could you not?” Yoongi snorts, fingers clicking over keyboard keys in the broom closet they’re supposed to record a debut album in.

Hoseok waits for Hyosang to in. Proud, fiery, stubborn Hyosang who finds a shade of humble in Seokjin’s light. But he’s busy tonight, and the next night, and the night after. His absence a gaping hole that tears itself a little wider every time someone brings it up, till all of a sudden the space he used to occupy implodes and the dorm will never seem loud enough ever again.

And then there were seven. Again. Hoseok doesn’t like to bring up the trainees lost along the way, it’s sentimental and foolhardy. But he finds himself asking questions, dropping hints. Namjoon won’t talk about it, Yoongi mumbles something about Ikje and Donghyuk that has Hoseok biting his tongue against the all too natural rebuttal of “and Hunchul”.

Hunchul and Hoseok came up together, through the same clammy training rooms back in Gwangju. They should have made it all the way together, they should have flown, they should have soared.

“No one’s talking about it,” Seokjin hisses across the kitchen one night, when Hoseok can’t even find the energy to ask him what he’s doing up, “he just…left. We don’t even know why, we don’t even know where he is.

Hyosang is far across town, at Stardom Entertainment, according to what few friends Hoseok has in high up places. He doesn’t tell Seokjin as much, because that company is where dreams go to die, and he knows no one here would be able to get over the fact that Zico’s there too, as if there were a better argument for talent not guaranteeing success.

“People come, people go,” Hoseok replies, “sometimes people stay.”

“I wish he’d stayed,” Seokjin says miserably. Hoseok nearly agrees with him.

Seokjin will get over Hyosang, he will heal. Hyosang will stare helplessly at the people he left behind and mourn his burnt bridges with embarrassing transparency. Namjoon will never talk about it. Yoongi will keep stock of the friends they’ve lost along the way. Hoseok will bite his tongue because he has better things to do than wallow in nostalgia.

“What about Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook?” Seokjin asks, “don’t they get a say?”

“It’s not the same for them,” Hoseok replies.

Seokjin looks at him long and hard, without judgement. He doesn’t need to open his mouth to say he disagrees. “Would you miss me if I was gone?”

Hoseok turns up the music, dances a little harder, hoping someone sees him for the best he can be. “I miss everyone who leaves, but I manage.”