i.

jungkook is a world away when he has his earbuds in, volume all the way up, gazing out at the darkening sky from his window on the second floor. there are a million cars that rush by on the streets, grey clouds of pollution rising up, up, up but never high enough, never far enough, before they dissipate into particles that scatter apart.

he doesn’t want to break like that. he doesn’t want to be the only one to fall down when the rest of the world continues onward.

constellations of doubt fills his heart, second-guessing himself because what does he know, really? a small part of him pulls words of discouragement and the possibility of a different life too close, wrapped up in his arms tightly, too tight to let go.

but a bigger part of him holds on to hope. what starts out as a small bud grows and grows, spreading its petals out to all corners of his body, of his brain and heart, until it blooms into something real.

he’s cheering for the bigger part of him.

jungkook wonders what the moon and stars would look like in seoul.

ii.

i want to sing, he thinks, and he’s still young but he already has a dream.

iii.

the first time jungkook meets the others, he is a bundle of nerves. a stumbling mess, excited and anxious at the same time, and he wonders what kind of impression his new bandmates took from that.

they train together, laboured breaths filling the dance room when the thrill of adrenaline dies down. all of them are sweaty and tired with throbbing limbs and sore muscles, but this is what they signed up for and looking around, jungkook can see that none of them regret it. smiles on their faces and friendly pats on the back; days spent living the dream.

seven boys.

seven boys who share one love for music and jungkook thinks that maybe they aren’t complete strangers after all.

iv.

he doesn’t sing for himself. he sings for the thousands of voices that get lost in the wind, never reaching open ears.

and when he hears his words starting to crack and stutter into pieces after too-long practices, recording sessions that has him breaking down because he can’t seem to perfect his lines no matter how many times he tries, the fear that was boiling inside of him rises out, out, out.

locks himself in the bathroom to cry because he wonders, sometimes, if he’s losing his own voice, too.

v.

flashing lights and roaring crowd and jungkook doesn’t think he could ever have imagined a feeling like this. doesn’t quite believe that all of this is actually happening even with a microphone in his hands and the speakers playing their songs.

it’s electrifying. vibrations roll off his skin and he’s running on maybe four hours of sleep but in that instant, he’s truly awake. wishes he could hit pause and save this moment; hold on to it forever and replay it for an infinite number of lifetimes.

there’s something magical about being up there, performing for people who support him.

jungkook steps off the stage, lingering cheers still behind him, feeling more fulfilled than he ever has before.

vi.

interviews run late into the night, squeezed into his busy schedule, all eyes focused on him. “what’s the best part of being an idol?”

jungkook doesn’t even need to think. he speaks words laced with raw emotion and syllables resonating honesty, maybe even chokes up a little bit near the end.

“all of it.”

vii.

there are sleepless nights. too many thoughts buzzing in his head, eyelids too light to close, the outside world too quiet but the world inside of him too loud.

there are nights where he can’t sleep, isn’t allowed to sleep. just one more run-through of their new choreography, one more hour of putting melodies together, until the sun is already rising and they have to do it all over again, no breaks.

he glances up at the sky, feeling the burning of his lungs and the need to collapse onto his bed. doesn’t let any of the negatives bother him anymore before he’s here and he knows that not everyone is as lucky.

the stars look the prettiest in seoul, after all.