“The seagull is in the nest.”

 

Yoongi freezes in his tracks and turns to glare at Jeongguk, as if to say, This is your fault .

 

Yoongi sighs. Then, he whisper-yells into the unmoving air, “What the is that supposed to mean, Taehyung?”

 

It’s their first mission since Taehyung joined their ranks, and to say that Jeongguk is nervous would be a massive understatement.

 

Jeongguk’s fingers grip his glock so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, but he can’t feel a thing. In the pre-dawn haze of fog and a sleeping city, Jeongguk is numb - his fingers feel leaden and there’s a buzz vibrating through his limbs. Jeongguk is faintly aware of the fact that he might be trembling but he focuses on the cold metal in his hands and tries too hard not to think about the fact that they could be walking into a trap.

 

Taehyung’s voice hums inside of their ears as he whines, “What’s the point of coming up with code phrases if no one’s going to memorize them?”

 

If Jeongguk closes his eyes, he can almost believe that Taehyung is standing right next to them.

 

Except he’s not.

 

Taehyung is back in the safety of Namjoon’s house, speaking to Yoongi and Jeongguk from miles away through a small device lodged in each of their ears.

 

To be fair, it’s not the most dangerous mission Jeongguk’s ever been on. Far from it, in fact. Jeongguk’s been tasked to kill more influential people, more powerful people, more dangerous people.

 

This is a small job - one that would normally require only one person - but Yoongi had refused to let Jeongguk go alone.

 

Yoongi growls, “Taehyung, this isn’t a ing joke. Stop treating it like one. Say something we can understand or so help me-“

 

“Alright, alright. No need to get your in a twist. Jeez. ”

 

Jeongguk can almost hear Taehyung rolling his eyes. He wants to laugh, but he’s much too nervous, a tight ball of nerves chewing at the insides of his hollow stomach.

 

“It’s safe to go inside,” Taehyung says. “Everything should be good to go.”

 

“The security system? Alarms? Cameras? Locks?” Yoongi asks, running through his mental checklist.

 

“Took care of it. Check, check, and check.”

 

Yoongi pauses, frowning. “The body guards?”

 

“There are none. I hacked into their schedules and changed them. No one is going to be bothering you while you’re in there.”

 

“What about the target?” Yoongi asks suspiciously.

 

“Changed the alarm on his phone. He’s probably still sleeping right now.”

 

Yoongi blinks once. Twice. He turns to look at Jeongguk, who looks just as confused as he is.

 

“Are you telling me,” Yoongi begins, narrowing his eyes, “that all we have to do is waltz into that building and kill the target in his sleep?”

 

“Yup,” Taehyung says casually, popping the “p” for emphasis. He sounds unconcerned.

 

Yoongi is quiet for a moment. Then, hesitantly, “You’ve made this awfully easy for us…”

 

Taehyung laughs, “I mean… you’re welcome.”

 

There’s no way. It’s too easy.

 

But Taehyung isn’t lying. The front door swings open compliantly and no one stops them, questions them, tries to kill them.  All the cameras seem to be down, drooping pathetically towards the floor. The entire compound is deathly silent, save for the sound of their footsteps and the light snores of their still-sleeping target.

 

It’s too easy when Yoongi pulls out a small handgun and shoots the poor bastard between his closed eyes. A well-placed shot - a clean kill.

 

Jeongguk and Yoongi stand there for a while, looking at their completed mission, silent. Both of them seem to be at a loss for words.

 

“How’d it go?” Taehyung says from inside their ears, jolting them out of their dumbfounded stupor.

 

Both of them don’t say anything for a few seconds. Jeongguk quickly glances over at Yoongi, who looks like he’s trying to swallow something bitter.

 

Yoongi starts to grit something out. “The seagull…” He pauses, as if he can’t believe he’s about to say it. “The seagull has laid it’s egg,” he mumbles quickly. Jeongguk detects the tiniest hint of grudging respect in his voice.

 

Taehyung giggles delightedly.

 

-----

 

“So it was a successful mission, I presume?” Namjoon asks, not looking up from the mess of files sprawled out in front of him. He picks one up, briefly pores over the contents, and then frowns.

 

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters, “Taehyung took care of everything before we had even arrived.”

 

Namjoon looks up, grinning slightly, “I told you, didn’t I?”

 

Yoongi resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You were right, Namjoon,” he admits, “You’re always right. He’s smart, useful. Thorough, too.”

 

Namjoon nods, closing the file in his hands and setting it down on the table. “I know, the kid’s a genius. Maybe even more so than me. God knows I can’t do half the stuff he can with a laptop.”

 

Yoongi grunts out an agreement. “I don’t think he realizes how powerful he is, Namjoon. It’s no wonder there are people out to kill him.”

 

Namjoon’s eyes briefly flicker over to where Jeongguk is standing and he quickly turns back to Yoongi, shaking his head and laughing, “He’s just a kid, Yoongi. Try not to overthink it.”

 

“Speaking of which,” Yoongi continues to press, “Where are his parents?”

 

Namjoon shrugs stiffly, picking up another file and feigning interest, “He’s got none. Died in a car crash.”

 

Yoongi looks unconvinced, and Namjoon notices.

 

“Listen,” Namjoon says, “We’ve all got our own demons. Let him handle his.”

 

Yoongi falls silent, scrutinizing Namjoon carefully. Namjoon meets his gaze steadily, and Jeongguk can almost see the silent conversation happening between them.

 

Finally, Yoongi nods, muttering a soft, “Okay,” and Jeongguk knows he won’t bring it up again.

 

-----

 

“What are you up to, Gukkie?” Taehyung’s bright voice sounds right next to Jeongguk as he walks into his room.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Jeongguk mutters, brushing past Taehyung and grabbing the hoodie draped over a chair next to his bed.

 

Ever since Seokjin deemed Taehyung well enough to forego bedrest a few weeks ago, Taehyung hadn’t stopped following Jeongguk around. It was like Jeongguk had suddenly adopted a lost puppy - Taehyung trailed behind him no matter where he went. Jeongguk had been going out of his way to avoid him, actively ignoring him every chance he had, and even resorting to sleeping on the couch at night so as to minimize interaction - but nothing seemed to faze Taehyung.

 

It’s not that Jeongguk doesn’t like Taehyung. It’s not that Jeongguk doesn’t enjoy the company. It’s not even that Jeongguk still holds a grudge against Taehyung for nearly getting Yoongi killed.

 

Simply put, Taehyung confuses Jeongguk.

 

Jeongguk feels on edge whenever Taehyung is around. His straight-laced disposition bristles against Taehyung’s whiplashing spontaneity and jolting mood shifts, and he gets the feeling that Taehyung is a lot smarter than he lets on, that everything he says and does is simply an act.

 

But Taehyung still has a way of stripping away all of Jeongguk’s layers with a single look, of peeling back the layers upon layers of defenses he’s built up over the years as easily as Jeongguk could kill a man. And it’s absolutely terrifying.

 

After all, Taehyung seems to have his ways of finding out secrets, and Jeongguk’s got a few he’d rather keep to himself.

 

“Come on, I’m bored,” Taehyung whines, reaching out to tug on Jeongguk’s shirt.

 

Jeongguk grabs Taehyung’s wrist and twists it away from himself, a threatening growl working its way up his throat. Taehyung gasps in pain and Jeongguk realized, belatedly, that he’s grabbed Taehyung’s left arm. His injured arm.

 

Jeongguk drops his wrist immediately, guilt and concern flashing through him.

 

“, s-sorry,” Jeongguk stammers. “God, Taehyung, I’m sorry, I forgot,  -“

 

An overwhelming desire to help overcomes him, but he doesn’t know how to and he resorts to fluttering his hands uselessly.

 

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Taehyung says shakily forcing himself to laugh. He rubs his forearm gingerly, the scars still visible, etched angrily into his skin. “It’s fine, it’s fine… I’m fine ,” Taehyung repeats, and Jeongguk’s not sure who he’s talking to anymore.

 

“Okay,” Jeongguk says slowly. “You’re fine.”

 

“I’m fine.” Jeongguk notices that Taehyung’s voice is too hard.

 

Hesitantly, Jeongguk asks, “Are you sure?”

 

“… I’m fine.” Taehyung’s voice makes it clear that he’s not in the mood to say anything else.

 

Jeongguk is hesitates for a heartbeat. He wants to say something, except he doesn’t know what to say. Finally, after what feels like a long period of indecision, Jeongguk walks away without saying a word.

 

-----

 

Jongin hears rumors.

 

Somehow, snippets of information always find their way up the food chain. It’s through this network that Jongin first hears of Taehyung’s death.

 

“… depressed bastard… jumped off a bridge… drowned himself…”

 

Pieces of the story slowly fall into place, stitching themselves together to form a well-fabricated tale.

 

For a split second, Jongin is almost relieved. For a split second, Jongin almost feels the release of his blinding paranoia. He’s free . He can move on with his life.

 

And then the split second ends and the paranoia comes crashing back, like a wave that recedes temporarily only to replenish itself and surge back with a renewed fervor. The paranoia comes back, mixing with the familiar anger, terror, hatred.

 

When a voice says, “Sir, there are reports from multiple sources of Kim Taehyung committing suicide,” Jongin’s hand flies up instantly, the barrel trained at the man’s head, his finger itching against the trigger, tempting him, taunting him.

 

“… depressed bastard… jumped off a bridge… drowned himself…”

 

Jongin closes his eyes and forces himself to take a deep breath. His hand shakes as he slowly lowers the gun.

 

The deadly calm in his voice is a result of years of careful practice when he says, “Unless I don’t see his cold, dead body lying at my feet, he’s not dead.”

 

A beat of silence.

 

“As you wish, sir.”

 

-----

 

It’s a quiet day - no missions.

 

Everyone’s at the apartment and it feels more crowded than usual.

 

Jeongguk sits in the bathroom - the only place he can be by himself now that Taehyung has taken over his room - and plays with the safety on his gun. Even though he’s alone, Jeongguk feels like he’s suffocating.

 

There are too many thoughts running through his mind, too many emotions crowding in his chest, too many people existing around him.  

 

Jeongguk has always liked routine. He likes for everything to go the way it always does, for the world to follow it’s daily pattern, and too much has changed in the past few days for him to ignore.

 

He feels disoriented, overwhelmed, and the only place he can think to go is the place where he’s always felt the most comfortable. The one place where he can feel completely in control.

 

There’s an abandoned underground shooting range not too far from Namjoon’s house - a thirteen minute walk. Jeongguk visits often. In fact, he’s the only person who ever visits. No one else knows the place exists. No one else remembers it.

 

Jeongguk throws on an old hoodie, shoves his feet into a pair of worn sneakers, and leaves without telling anyone else where he’s going.

 

It’s chilly outside, his breath puffing out in front of his face in a small cloud of condensation as he walks, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his glock tucked safely behind the waistband of his pants.

 

Yoongi always liked to shoot from the rooftop, liked to hone his sniping skills on inanimate objects that somehow manage to irk him from over a mile away. He preferred to lose himself in the zen of the vast, night sky, to settle into the peace and quiet of fine-tuning his aim to painstaking perfection as the sound of his bullets were swallowed by the muffled blur of city-life swirling beneath him.

 

Jeongguk, on the other hand, needs the rush of adrenaline, the rush of power and control that surges through him every time his bullet punches through his target. Jeongguk doesn’t like to take his time, doesn’t prepare for the shock, doesn’t take a deep breath before pulling the trigger. He jumps headfirst into the recoil, relishes the way it blows through his arms, shoulders, his body, the way it jars his teeth, rings his joints. It grounds him, helps him clear his mind - focus on his target and nothing else.

 

His arms raise themselves instinctively, pulling the trigger without hesitation, and the rest of the world fades away. Jeongguk’s vision tunnels onto the small, red circle a few hundred feet away and settles into the familiar rhythm of the abrasively loud bangs that accompany each bulls-eye. Bullet shells sprinkle onto the floor.

 

He’s halfway through his fifth round when something touches his shoulder.

 

No one else knows the place exists. No one else remembers it.

 

So Jeongguk is acting out of reflex when he whips around to train the barrel of his gun on the idiot who dared to disturb his target-practice. His fingers twitches on the trigger but his brain stops himself in time.

 

At the end of his barrel is a very surprised and somewhat terrified Taehyung.

 

Taehyung blanches, freezing and staring back at Jeongguk with wide eyes.

 

Jeongguk’s muscles tense, hardening in place, and he has to force himself to lower his arms, his heart thrashing against his ribcage.

 

“Jesus Christ, Taehyung, what are you doing here? I nearly shot you.”

 

The terror on Taehyung’s face suddenly melts into a playful smile and he leans forward to poke Jeongguk in the chest. “You have got to stop trying to kill me, you know?”

 

“Right,” Jeongguk mutters weakly, looking away.

 

“Hey,” Taehyung’s voice softens, “I was just kidding. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Jeonggukkie… right?”

 

It almost sounds like a genuine question.

 

Jeongguk scoffs, “Right.” He promptly turns around to re-aim his gun at his target, hoping that Taehyung will take that as his cue to leave.

 

Unfortunately, Taehyung doesn’t get the message. Either that or he chooses to ignore it.

 

Regardless, it’s impossible for Jeongguk to focus with Taehyung standing right next to him. Jeongguk’s bullets are still landing (he doesn’t think he could miss a shot even if he tried) but the activity is no longer having the intended effect.

 

Rather, Jeongguk finds himself trying to silence the millions of questions tearing inside of his head instead of losing himself in the deafening familiarity of his gun and the target. After a few more minutes of silent, internal struggle, Jeongguk decides to call it a day.

 

“You’re done?” Taehyung asks, tailing Jeongguk eagerly.

 

“Yeah,” Jeongguk mutters, wiping down his glock while avoiding Taehyung’s eye contact with some effort.

 

“Where are you going now?” Taehyung asks, unrelenting

 

“I dunno,” Jeongguk shrugs, heading for the exit. “Somewhere.”

 

Taehyung beams. “Can I come?”

 

Though he doesn’t grant permission, Jeongguk finds that he can’t say no. He chooses, instead, to ignore Taehyung.

 

His feet move of their own accord, walking without a particular destination in mind.

 

He can’t think with Taehyung following so closely behind him. In fact, he can’t think straight with Taehyung around at all.

 

It’s almost as if every time Jeongguk tries to form a coherent thought, Taehyung’s presence redirects his attention and draws it towards himself. Jeongguk’s brain refuses to allow him to think of anything other than Taehyung.

 

And he really doesn’t understand why Taehyung follows only him so intently. There’s only one logical explanation that seems to make sense to Jeongguk, but it’s a horrible thought and only serves to make him feel more guilty.

 

Unfortunately, he only makes it three more blocks before he finally snaps, whipping around to glare at Taehyung.

 

“JUST BECAUSE YOU THINK I SAVED YOUR LIFE DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW ME AROUND EVERYWHERE!”

 

The words come out before Jeongguk has time to think, and they’re a lot harsher than Jeongguk intends them to be. For a split second, Taehyung falters, hurt and confusion flashing across his face, and Jeongguk nearly feels sorry.

 

But then, Taehyung’s grinning at him again - that stupid, pretty smile - and he giggles. “I’m not following you around because you saved my life.”

 

“I’m starting to regret that I did,” Jeongguk mutters under his breath.

 

Somehow, Taehyung hears his words and his lips curl in amusement, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Jeonggukkie.”

 

“I’m not your babysitter,” Jeongguk spits out, pointedly ignoring the nickname that Taehyung seems to have adopted for him.

 

Taehyung wags a teasing finger at Jeongguk. “I’m older than you, you know?”

 

Irritation flares through Jeongguk. “Really? How would you know?”

 

Taehyung almost rolls his eyes. Flatly, he says, “I know everything about everyone.”

 

Jeongguk detects a hint of misery in his voice. Ignoring this, he laughs harshly, “You don’t know me.” He turns to walk away.

 

“I know about your father.”

 

Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat and he freezes mid-step.

 

“That’s right,” Taehyung hisses dangerously, and Jeongguk fights the urge to turn around and punch him. “I know about your father. I know how he tried to find a reason to live at the bottom of a beer bottle. I know how he beat you when he had nothing else. I know about your mother and how she fled when you were five, leaving you all by yourself to survive your father. I know how you grew up hating yourself. I know how Bangtan saved you from dying at the hands of your parents. I know how you would do anything for them, how you would lay down your own life if it meant saving them-”

 

“ Shut up. ” Jeongguk grits out, voice tight.

 

“I’m right, aren’t I? You have no love for yourself. You don’t even live for yourself.”

 

He whirls around to glare at Taehyung, terror and rage rising with his voice.  “SHUT UP!”

 

Except Taehyung is breathing quickly, tight anger etched into his facial features, his eyes shining and slightly crazed and absolutely broken. There is no satisfaction in his voice when he says, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

 

Jeongguk clenches his jaw.

 

“I told you,” Taehyung breathes out weakly, the fight draining from his body and leaving him exhausted, “I know everything about everyone.” He sounds defeated.

 

Jeongguk shakes his head firmly. “No,” Jeongguk growls, “You don’t know me.”

 

This time, when he turns to walk away, Taehyung doesn’t stop him.

 

-----

 

By the time Jeongguk returns to the apartment, night has fallen and the members are asleep. Jeongguk tries to be silent as opens the door, careful to lock it behind him with a soft click . He moves through the shadows fluidly, the floorboards just barely creaking underneath his feet.

 

He’s about to crash on the couch like usual when he realizes, with a start, that somebody else is already there.

 

A sleeping Taehyung, his arms and legs pulled inwards, is curled up on the faded velvet couch that sits in the middle of their living room. His fingers are balled into tight, little fists and shallow puffs of breath quietly fragment the silence.

 

A cloud shifts outside and a sliver of moonlight falls across Taehyung’s face, illuminating his soft features.

 

There’s still a knot sitting at the bottom of Jeongguk’s stomach - a knot of fear, anger, hate, desperation… but it starts to unravel just slightly as Jeongguk stares down at Taehyung’s sleeping form. He’s reminded, once again, of how painfully beautiful Taehyung is.

 

Deep down, Jeongguk knows that the tangle of bitter feelings lurking inside him are not directed at Taehyung. Deep down, Jeongguk knows that he’s only lashing out because he’s frustrated with himself. Deep down, Jeongguk knows that Taehyung is trying to help him.

 

But Jeongguk is not quite ready to admit any of that to himself yet.

 

So instead, he settles for grabbing a blanket and draping it carefully over Taehyung’s delicately curled body. Gently brushing aside a few stray hairs from Taehyung’s forehead, Jeongguk whispers a soft, “Sweet dreams” to nobody in particular.

 

Later, when he’s lying in his own bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling and trying to fall asleep in the muted glow of moonlight, he can still feel his fingertips tingling where they had lingered against Taehyung’s skin.

 

-----

 

For a few days, Taehyung is a lot less… present .

 

Taehyung is still in the house, always bustling about, typing, coding, hacking - except Jeongguk barely sees him anymore. He’s almost uncomfortable with the new calm. Although never quite accustomed to Taehyung’s constant shadowing and its subsequent whims, Jeongguk finds himself mildly alarmed at how much he notices Taehyung’s absence.

 

The sun is setting outside, slowly bringing down the day and coaxing out the stars. Jeongguk keeps flicking the safety on his glock - on, off, on, off…

 

The quiet is unnerving, and finally, Jeongguk cracks.

 

Jeongguk knocks the door frame lightly as he peeks his head through the doorway.

 

A golden glow washes Hoseok’s room as sunlight filters through the windows, dozens of little bits and ends littered across the floor. Weapons of all sorts stand propped up against the wall, strewn across a hastily made bed, scattered over a overflowing table top. Something is buzzing, a continuous hum, and then there’s a small pop , cutting through the noise and fizzling out like a spark. It’s cozy; slightly chaotic, slightly crazed, but comfortable.

 

“Come in,” Hoseok’s voice flows out from behind a stack of scrap metal, sounding far away.

 

Jeongguk carefully picks his way through the wreckage drowning the floor. Eventually, he makes his way over to Hoseok, who’s working on a long piece of metal - most likely Yoongi’s sniping rifle. Sleek bullets roll uselessly across the desk, spread over the wood like a thin layer of dust.

 

For a while, Jeongguk is silent, content to watch Hoseok tweak the specs of the weapon and tinker with the gauge. He likes watching Hoseok work, knows that Hoseok’s trying to make the chance of Yoongi missing less than zero. He knows that it only takes one shot to give away your position as a sniper, that missing can be the difference between life or death.

 

Needless to say, Yoongi has yet to miss a shot, but Hoseok can never be too sure.

 

It’s his job to make sure everyone else can do theirs - he knows their preferences, designs and alters each weapon to match each person’s needs and habits.

 

Hoseok is the only person Jeongguk has ever allowed to touch his beloved glock, the only person Jeongguk trusts to handle his gun.

 

Since Jeongguk preferred shooting in succession and never made an effort to absorb the shock, Hoseok had reduced the recoil before Jeongguk could blow out his shoulders. And seeing as Jeongguk always pulled a little harder than was necessary whenever he aimed a shot, Hoseok had increased the resistance of the trigger to prevent any further accidents. And because Jeongguk always gripped his gun too tight, always ended up with callouses on his hands where the metal clashed against his bone, Hoseok had adjusted the grip to make it a little more accommodating, softening the metal so that it fit comfortably into the shape of Jeongguk’s hands.

 

Jeongguk has always liked to watch Hoseok work, has always liked watching the way everything fit together, each mechanism in its place, structured and rigid and reliable.

 

Eventually, however, Jeongguk speaks.

 

“How did you know?”

 

“Hm?” Hoseok hums distractedly.

 

“How did you know?” Jeongguk repeats, knowing that Hoseok still isn’t really paying attention.

 

“How did I know what?” Hoseok asks, not looking up, brows furrowing in concentration.

 

“How did you know Yoongi was the one?” Jeongguk asks quietly.

 

Hoseok’s fingers stop moving. Carefully, he puts down the tools in his hand to turn around and look up at Jeongguk. His eyes are piercing but Jeongguk forces himself to meet his gaze, not allowing himself to look away. He can almost see the cogs turning in Hoseok’s brain, thinking, analyzing, scrutinizing.

 

Suddenly, Hoseok’s face relaxes into a kind smile.

 

“How did I know Yoongi was the one, huh?” Hoseok laughs lightly. “You know, I never really thought about that.” He scratches his chin thoughtfully, turning the question over in his mind.

 

Jeongguk waits patiently for Hoseok to come up with an answer.

 

At last, Hoseok provides him with one.

 

“I think… he believed that I was worth saving,” Hoseok says slowly, candidly. “… So I decided that he was worth saving,” he finishes simply.

 

There’s a moment of silence. Jeongguk tries to wrap his mind around Hoseok’s words. After a few seconds, Hoseok’s fingers start to twitch restlessly and he gives relents, resuming his work on Yoongi’s rifle.

 

After a considerable amount of time, Jeongguk finally turns to leave, but not before calling out a soft, “Thanks, Hoseok.” He’s almost at the door when Hoseok’s voice stops him.

 

“I still think there’s something he’s not telling us… But I believe he’s a good guy at heart.”

 

Jeongguk pauses, quietly processing what Hoseok just said. Suddenly remembering something, he smiles and asks, “You coming with us tonight?”

 

Hoseok looks up from his work to give Jeongguk a wry grin. “You know that’s not really my scene.”

 

Jeongguk laughs, nodding understandingly. “Alright, I’ll see you later.”

 

Hoseok’s voice follows him out the door. “Don’t have too much fun without me!”

 

-----

 

It turns out Jimin has been cultivating an impressive stash of makeup hidden somewhere in his room. Jeongguk allows Jimin to swipe just the tiniest hint of eyeliner along his lashes but nothing more. He’s not looking to draw attention tonight - a simple white t-shirt paired with black jeans and black sneakers.

 

They’re only going clubbing, looking to blow off some steam. It’s no big deal.

 

Taehyung doesn’t have seem to gotten the memo.

 

He emerges from Jimin’s room smoky-eyed and wrapped in tight, leather pants. His skin seems to shimmer with a dark, honeyed glow and his eyes twinkle with mischief. Locking eyes with Jeongguk, Taehyung over his lightly-glossed lips, a smirk flickering at the edge of his mouth.

 

Jeongguk can’t breathe.

 

Jimin’s voice snaps Jeongguk out of his trance, sounding smug. “Not bad, huh? He was pretty enthusiastic about letting me doll him up.”

 

“Yeah… Not bad,” Jeongguk manages to choke out, forcing himself to look away from Taehyung.

 

He makes a point to look anywhere except at Taehyung for the entire car ride there, a feat that proves to be easier said than done.

 

The ground starts vibrating two blocks away from the building, and the bouncer greets them with a polite nod, unhooking the velvet rope to let them through.

 

The air seems to stick to their skin as they carefully maneuver their way through the gyrating mass of people, laced with the scent of sweat and booze. Sporadic strobe lights flail around wildly, slicing through the heavy cloud of smoke that seems to suffocate the room.

 

It's almost unbearably loud, the deafening music, the slurred shouts and off-key singing, the pixilated laughter ringing through the air, the smooth sound of drinks being poured, people getting drunk, bad decisions being made.

 

They slowly pick their way across the dance floor, bodies pressing against them as the music surges, arriving at the crowded bar a few seconds later.

 

Namjoon orders a round of shots for everyone and they each grab a small glass, raising it in the air before throwing it back. Jeongguk winces as it burns its way down his throat. Jimin and Taehyung down three more shots of tequila each while Namjoon orders a scotch for himself and a cocktail for Jin. Yoongi takes a whiskey and Jeongguk decides to settle for a beer.

 

They sip their drinks for a few more minutes, watching the chaotic scene unfold in front of them, flashing lights and electronic music and intoxicated bodies grinding onto each other.

 

Yoongi is the first to disappear, most likely to watch the DJ spin. Namjoon and Seokjin are next, somehow managing to stake out an empty spot on the dance floor. Jimin is still recovering from his last shot when Taehyung grabs his wrist, giggling stupidly, and yanks him onto the wildly-lit floor.

 

Jimin stumbles behind him, laughing madly, and follows Taehyung blindly into the thickest part of the fray. Jeongguk watches them from his stool at the bar, nursing his beer broodingly.

 

Taehyung seems to melt into the crowd, fluid and mysterious and beautiful. The beat is dirty and the lights catch on his skin, on the curves of his body as he rolls his hips to the rhythm of the music, throwing his sharp features into even sharper contrast, accentuating his high cheekbones and glistening collarbones. He looks like pure sin, absolutely mesmerizing.

 

Jeongguk can’t breathe.

 

People start to notice Taehyung - it’s hard not to - and those in his immediate vicinity start to press closer, sidling up to him and grinding against him. Taehyung seems to be enjoying the attention, seems to be enjoying himself - he tips his head back and lets his lips curl into a lazy smile as he leans into the body behind him.

 

Jeongguk can’t breathe.

 

Jimin seems to have made a new friend as well, but Jeongguk can’t look away from Taehyung. The body behind him presses in more aggressively, his lips dipping down to pant against Taehyung’s neck, and Taehyung only throws his head back and grinds back with a renewed fervor, amping up his own enthusiasm with a wicked grin.

 

Jeongguk can’t breathe.

 

He’s not supposed to care. It’s none of his business. Taehyung is none of his business.

 

It’s none of his business that Taehyung is dancing with a stranger - an attractive one, at that - with his eyes hooded and sultry and glinting with dangerous promise; his hands, his pretty, delicate fingers, grabbing at the man behind him rather indelicately, pulling him closer so that his can fit flush against the man’s crotch.

 

It’s none of his business that Taehyung turns around to gasp into the infinitesimal space between their lips and grind down on the man’s thigh now slotted between his legs, his hands trailing up to grab the man behind the neck, fist into his hair.

 

It’s none of his business that Taehyung leans in, his tongue darting out to wet his lips… and pauses for a second.

 

Taehyung turns his head to the side just slightly so that he can catch Jeongguk’s eyes, glare at him, dark and dangerous and defiant, as if challenging him to do something, to stop him or intercede.

 

Jeongguk can’t breathe.

 

A fire rages through Jeongguk’s veins, burning in his heart and blackening his lungs. He’s inexplicably furious, except he has no reason to be, an understanding which only feeds his anger.

 

His drink sits forgotten on the glossy countertop, tiny droplets of water condensing along the smooth, glass surface and trickling down to pool at the base.

 

Jeongguk leaves before he can see any more and do something he regrets, shoving his way through the mob of tipsy and oblivious dancers. There’s too much noise, too many flashing lights, too many thoughts racing through his mind - everything is overwhelming.

 

The first breath of fresh air shocks through his body like diving headfirst into freezing cold water, a long shuddering breath rattling through his lungs as he stumbles outside. The cool air washes over him and calms him just slightly.

 

The line to get in now wraps around the block, excited people, lightly buzzed and thrumming with the potential of a good night out, chattering animatedly amongst themselves.

 

Jeongguk walks until he can’t hear the boom of the bass anymore.

 

The pounding of the music no longer drowns out the sound of his heart thrashing against his ribcage and he becomes painfully aware of his own labored breathing.

 

There’s a hint of panic threatening to tip him over the edge, but he forces himself to close his eyes and press his back against the wall. Leaning his head back, Jeongguk breathes slowly - inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

 

“Jeongguk?”

 

Jeongguk’s heart sinks.

 

No, not now.

 

“Jeongguk, are you okay?” Taehyung’s small, worried voice, slurring only slightly, breaches the empty air between them.

 

Jeongguk looks up and sighs. The twinkling stars above him seem to taunt him, jeering at him, winking at him cruelly. He can’t do this right now. Not now.

 

Jeongguk turns to give Taehyung a cold look. “Leave me alone, Taehyung. I’m not in the mood to deal with your right now.”

 

Taehyung’s face crumples and his eyes fill with tears. “You’re never happy to see me,” Taehyung mumbles, voice wavering miserably. “How come you don’t like me, Jeonggukkie?” he whispers sadly, the words slicing through the cold night like a knife.

 

Jeongguk’s resolve wavers just the tiniest bit, but he steels himself. “You’re drunk,” he grits out.

 

Taehyung shakes his head violently. “No, I’m not. I only had…” His voice fades and he frowns, his brows furrowing in what seems to be difficult concentration. After a few seconds, he looks up at Jeongguk. “What was I talking about again?”

 

Jeongguk resists the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Just leave me alone, Tae.”

 

Taehyung moans somewhat pathetically, “No…” He stumbles towards Jeongguk, tilting forward too quickly for his feet to catch up. Jeongguk rushes forward without thinking, catching Taehyung before he hits the floor and immediately gagging at the overwhelming stench of alcohol clinging to Taehyung’s skin.

 

“ Jesus Christ ,” Jeongguk grunts, “I didn’t realize you were such a ing lightweight.”

 

Taehyung whines and buries his face into Jeongguk’s chest, fingers coming up to wrap in the fabric of his shirt.

 

“I l-like you - ” hiccup “ - much, Jeonggukkie. How c-come you don’t - ” hiccup “ - like me back?” Taehyung mumbles, voice muffled and brittle. He sounds like he’s about to cry, the words heavy and exhausted. His breath is warm on Jeongguk’s chest - it feels like there’s a hole burning through his shirt.

 

The panic tips over the edge and Jeongguk blanks. He can’t do this right now. Not now.

 

“Get off of me, Taehyung. Please , get off of me, Taehyung.”

 

Jeongguk starts disentangling Taehyung from his body, except Taehyung doesn’t want to let go, and he becomes increasingly frantic the more Taehyung tries to hold on.

 

“Get off, Taehyung! Get off of me, get off, get off !” Jeongguk is screaming but he doesn’t care. He needs to get Taehyung off of him because he can’t breathe and he can’t do this right now.

 

“GET OFF!” Jeongguk roars, throwing Taehyung off of him and onto the hard concrete below, ignoring Taehyung’s look of absolute devastation when he hits the ground.

 

Jeongguk knows he’s a piece of but he really can’t do this right now. There’s too much going on in his chest - anger, jealousy, fear, guilt, regret, pain - everything is closing in on Jeongguk and his chest only seems to get tighter. His lungs seem to be shrinking and his head is about to explode and he’s vaguely sure that this is what dying feels like.

 

Taehyung is looking at him like a wounded puppy, betrayal in his eyes, silently pleading and imploring for Jeongguk to come back.

 

And Jeongguk wants to. Jeongguk wants so badly to run to Taehyung’s side, pick him up in his arms, cradle his face and apologize, promise that everything is going to be okay.

 

But Jeongguk can’t do this right now.

 

Not now.

 

So he forces himself to stomp down his emotions. Locks them away. Throws out the key.

 

He turns to stare at Taehyung icily. “Let me be clear, Taehyung. Just because Namjoon wants you here doesn’t mean the rest of us do. If you think you’ve managed to trick us into liking you, you’re wrong . We don’t trust you for a minute, and if you think you’re ever going to belong here, if you think we’re ever going to treat you like one of us, you’re ing delusional.

 

Taehyung whimpers, a broken sound. His eyes are slightly unfocused but something in them seems to break and Jeongguk knows he’s hit a nerve.

 

As an afterthought, he adds, “And I swear, Taehyung, if you ever touch me again, I’ll kill you… And I won’t be so nice the next time .”

 

He turns to walk away before his heart has the chance to break.

 

-----

 

A loud rapping noise wakes Jeongguk the next morning.

 

He tries to ignore it, but the knocking continues with a determined persistence, and in the end, Jeongguk is forced to open his eyes.

 

He feels cold, the flimsy blanket covering his torso and legs providing zero warmth whatsoever. There’s a painful crick in his neck and he winces as he slowly shakes awake.

 

Jimin’s head sticks out from his doorway. “You up, Gukkie?”

 

“I am now,” Jeongguk groans tiredly.

 

“Good.” Jimin sounds worried. “Did you see Taehyung last night?”

 

Jeongguk closes his eyes and sighs, rubbing his temple with a knuckle. “Yeah…” Jimin lights up. “… But not since I left the club.” Jimin’s face falls.

 

“Oh.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Jeongguk frowns, sitting up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

 

Jimin chews on his lip for a second, as if thinking about how to break the news.

 

“Taehyung… um… Taehyung never came home last night.”