Jungkook is not okay.

Seokjin stares helplessly at the boy hunched up in the bathroom, dry heaving. Crying as he tries to hide in the corner of the pristine white room. He’s had another panic attack. Much like the first one he’d had three weeks ago after his last encounter with Minho.

Jimin stands on the threshold of their new apartment’s bathroom, Taehyung behind him. The two friends watch how their youngest friend screams into his hands, shivering and whimpering. And it’s clear that nothing has changed. Punishing Minho that way, did nothing. Moving away from it all, did nothing. And suddenly it dawns upon Jimin, that maybe, it never might.

So, much to the chagrin of his own weak heart, Jimin turns away from the sight. Taehyung lingers a while, but he too moves away. Jungkook’s screams follow them even after they leave the house.

***

“How are your classes going?” Yoongi asks Namjoon and Hoseok as he follows them to the grocery store. Hands shoved into his pockets.

Hoseok turns to the man and smiles, albeit not too bright, and exclaims in mock excitement. “It’s great, Hyung! I took up a job at the campus too. Barista. Free Food!”

Namjoon lets out a giggle at the boy's ecstatics and nods as he turns to the eldest. “Yeah! And I registered for that scholarship too! We won’t have to pay my tuition from the next semester onwards if everything works out.”

Yoongi smiles ruefully at the two as they turn back around and start chatting about some new song they’ve heard at the college cafeteria. “You know I’m proud of you two, right?”

Namjoon sniggers and calls back without turning around, “Hyung, you tell us that almost every other day!”

“Yeah! You told me that yesterday when I was taking the trash out and jumped over a puddle.” Hoseok taunts while howling. “Stop being cheesy, Hyung!”

They get back to their chattering and Yoongi can make out some tidbits about the great tunes and the amazing compositions by some HipHop group and he blocks the words out. They remind him of his own compositions that never made it.

As they enter the store the elder boy points to a corner near the instore music department yelling over his shoulders, “you guys get the stuff. I’m gonna browse the new releases. Come get me when you’re ready to pay.” The two nod and are off in a second, and Yoongi strolls towards the CD’s sitting on racks.

He runs his fingers down the spine of the hard, plastic cases. Admiring the artworks of some, while browsing through the names of other new debuts. His attention, however, is soon diverted by the headphone on the side saying ‘Try Me’. Drawn by the little boy humming to an awfully familiar tone, the pale boy reaches over to the second set of headphones.

He reads the display label that describes the song excerpt playing, as he places the device over his ears.

Producer Bang Si Hyuk is back with another mesmerising tune! A smooth violin accompaniment followed up with soft percussions and hints of piano, this is another piece of artisan by the mysterious HipHop group DNH!

And the song. The strings and the piano that melds together. The drums that echo in the background, make Yoongi’s blood run cold and goosebumps litter over his arms. It’s his song. His recent composition. The one he’d written the night they’d avenged Jungkook. The violin blares and tears flow down his cheeks as he shoves the headphones off.

And while they walk back only two things resound in his mind. Producer Bang Si Hyuk. And DNH.

***

“Jungkook-ah” Namjoon calls the boy, pulling him out of his bed by the hand. When the boy rouses the elder chuckles, and pulls him behind him, out into the gallery. He sits him in the hammock made from bedsheets and ruffles his hair. “You feeling better now?”

“Yes.” Jungkook’s voice is hoarse from the all crying in the morning. His eyelids still puffy.

And Namjoon leaves it at that. Because Jungkook isn’t okay and he knows that. And asking him over and over won’t change the fact. Call him a practical prick, but he knows how Jungkook’s mind works. It’ll take time and patience. And he knows that.

“Is there any new video game you wanna play?” the elder asks. Leaning into the chair in the gallery. “You want that new Tekken CD? I heard t