He gazes up at the stars, breath puffing out in short spurts. He sees what no one else can see, what no one else can hope to comprehend.

The end is near, and Kim Taehyung is determined to save humanity.

He knows what he’ll have to do: he’ll need to somehow make sure that the supernatural creatures waiting to descend onto the Earth are distracted by something…or someone. Taehyung isn’t really heavy on the sacrifices, so he thinks he’ll probably have to give away some of his limited edition One Piece merchandise.

The thought hurts, but if he doesn’t do it, then who will? It’s all for the Greater Good in the end, even if no one can appreciate the effort.

He storms back into the castle, eyebrows furrowed in a mean impersonation of that one person in that one play, he doesn’t really remember. It is absolutely necessary that he continue onward with no feelings, absolutely-

Oh wait. Is that a puppy?

Cooing, Taehyung scoops the tiny thing into his arms, squealing at how adorable it looks. Puppies are a gift to mankind, seriously.

“Taehyung?” He startles at the sudden address, turning around with his best not-guilty face.

Namjoon is standing there, arms crossed in what turns out to be an intimidating stance…until he smiles that dimpled grin of his that he’s so famous for. Taehyung has always admired his oldest brother who, even when he’s Crown Prince, manages to balance everything out. Heaven knows Taehyung can’t stand sword-fighting or learning to map the lands and stuff like that; Namjoon manages through those boring classes and makes them look easy.

“Hello Crown Prince Hyung,” He greets with jest, smiling his boxy grin at his brother. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you the same,” Namjoon’s gotten pretty good at not blushing these days, Taehyung observes, and at deflecting questions. “Were you stargazing again?”

“Yes. No. Wait, I mean…maybe?” Taehyung offers, cheeks burning. Everyone makes fun of him for his favorite hobby, except Hobi-hyung who actively encourages him.

Namjoon shakes his head with a fond smile, “It’s okay TaeTae. Do you want to go down to the kitchens with me?”

“Okay!” Taehyung accepts cheerfully, beaming, before recalling, “What about Hobi- hyung?”

“Hobi is…” Namjoon frowned, “Sort of busy at the moment.”

Taehyung knows what he means by that. Hoseok is probably getting lectured by the King, again. It seems to be happening a lot these days, but Taehyung guesses he shouldn’t worry about it too much. Besides, he already has a lot on his mind. Alien invasions are not to be taken lightly.

“Alright, let’s go?” Namjoon smiles at him again, and Taehyung bobs his head in what many of the female servants of the castle call an ‘endearing way’ and they’re off to the kitchens.

He sees Jimin before he even sees the food, which is saying something.

The usually cheerful resident chef looks rather…not cheery today, actually, Taehyung notes with a frown, seeing his hyung do the same.

“Everything okay ChimChim?” He inquires as politely as he can, because contrary to popular belief, he does have an emotional range surpassing that of a teaspoon.

The black-haired man shakes his head, smiling. “I’m fine, Your Highness. What would you like to eat?”

Taehyung rears back at that, because what in the holy name of the extraterrestrial????!!! When has Jimin ever used those…those dirty words?

“Something’s wrong with him, Joonie- hyung!” Taehyung announces, turning around to stare at his older brother. “He’s never sounded that polite before.”

“Yah,” Jimin protests weakly, “I’ve always been polite!”

Taehyung gives him his best unimpressed stare, “Right.”

“What’s going on with you Jimin?” Namjoon-hyung sits down on a rickety wooden chair. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

Jimin’s puffy cheeks color at that and Taehyung can hardly resist pinching them; instead, he focuses on the neglected puppy he’s holding. Now that he’s actually looking though, Jimin and the puppy look pretty similar…

“It’s just…cooking is getting boring,” Jimin admits, and Taehyung’s mouth drops open.

Did he- did he just...

“YOU CAN’T HATE THE FOOD!” He screams in horror, heart palpitating (he thinks), “ANYTHING BUT THE FOOD!”

Jimin looks alarmed. Namjoon-hyung looks like he’s fallen asleep with his eyes open again.

“That’s not what I mean!” He counters, “I just want to do something apart from cooking! You know, like dancing?”

“You know what?” Taehyung stomps his feet, huffing, “Since you’re not willing to give me food, we’re not friends anymore!”

He stomps out the kitchens, willfully ignoring Jimin’s shouts from behind him.

Kim Taehyung does not associate with traitors.

--//\\--

Hoseok sighs moodily, staring pointedly over his father’s shoulder at some random book. It’s getting annoying, being summoned to his father’s study everyday to get lectured about some random incident that just happened to occur. Yeah, so he might have accidently set his mother’s cat on fire today, but how was he supposed to know that rubbing flint stones would actually work? And that one time with the parakeet, he didn’t even know that it wouldn’t appreciate being fed chicken!

They were innocent mistakes, really.

“…Are you even listening to me, Jung Hoseok?!”

His father’s stern eyes meet his, and Hoseok shrugs, projecting himself as the uncaring second son everyone thinks him to be.

The King’s mouth sets into a firm line, and Hoseok can’t help the little alertness that creeps into his mind.

“Well, now that you’re listening, I’ve been trying to tell you that it’s time for you to marry.”

That gets his attention.

“What?!” He stands up from his chair. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes I can, and I will.” His father glares at him, and Hoseok clenches his fingers. “Namjoon needs to adjust to his role as King before he marries, and Taehyung is too young. The Royal Family has been too quiet, and-“

“You’ve decided,” Hoseok says, deathly quiet, “To get rid of me.”

His father’s eyes flash, “That is not-“

“Forget it.” Hoseok shakes his head, holding back the tears he knows want to come out. “Save it for someone who cares.”

He backs out of the study, walking quickly to his chambers, before he’s sprinting down the empty hallways.

He can’t believe this is happening. This is not how he wants to live his life. He’s just twenty two, for goodness sake; he can’t throw out his freedom like that!

He yanks the bedroom door open, brushing aside the tears dribbling down his face, and then flings himself onto the bed, face down. He bites his lip to force himself to stop and takes deep breaths; eventually, he manages to think more rationally.

He can’t just stay around waiting for that to happen. That would be terrible. He doesn’t even know whom he’s supposed marry in the first place; if that person is as unbearable as Hoseok’s mother, then NO THANK YOU.

He rolls over with a sigh, staring longingly out the window at the dark of the night. How long has it been since he’s stepped outside the castle anyway? He’s been so tied up with classes and everything that he’s barely ever gotten to go outside. Hoseok wishes he could.

Wait a second. That was it!

Hoseok jumps to his feet, hurriedly pulling out a rucksack in which he stuffs an assortment of clothes. He can’t believe he’s doing this…but it’s the better alternative, he thinks. Running away from home rarely is the best idea, but it’s usually the only available option. It’s not like he actually has anyone who cares enough.

Hoseok bites his lip, remembering Taehyung and Namjoon. Okay, he concedes, so maybe he has people he cares about…but if he stays, nothing will matter anymore.

He’s got no choice.

Pulling out a pen and paper, he sits down, though only for five minutes. He knows Taehyung and Namjoon will come to his room after supper, like they always do only this time…he won’t be there.

He blinks, squashing down the feeling of uncertainty brewing. He needs to leave before then, for sure.

Once he’s done writing, he goes to the window. Luckily, he’s on the lowest floor, so it won’t be too nasty a fall. There’s a tree with thick branches that flow past his window anyway, so he swings onto one and promptly climbs down.

He manages to distract some of the guards by screaming bloody murder behind the bush; then, when they run inside, scrambles out of the shrub and makes a break for it.

It’s the only choice he has, he reminds himself, the only choice he has.