it’s seokjin who opens the door to jungkook’s hotel room. yoongi freezes in surprise, fist still raised to knock again. he doesn’t know why, but he honestly wasn’t expecting anyone else to have the same idea as him and go to jungkook’s room — although now that he thinks of it, of course he wasn’t the only one who thought of it. he can’t really see the rest of the room beyond seokjin’s gigantic shoulders and the short entrance corridor, but he can hear several other voices inside chatting quietly, confirming his theory.

 

“hyung,” he says, with no real purpose, the end of the word rising as if in question. seokjin smiles, although it’s a little tight around the edges, and steps aside to let yoongi in.

 

“you’re late,” he says good-naturedly as he closes the door behind him.

 

a groan leaves yoongi at the words, his head dropping forward and his eyes clenching shut. “don’t remind me,” he complains, shoulders slumping in defeat as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “i wanted to come over as soon as we got back, but one of the producers held me back to talk about a track. it took forever.”

 

the elder’s hand rubs at his back, between his shoulder blades, then wraps around his shoulders to pull him into a side hug. yoongi relaxes against him and lets himself be led into the room, where he’s not surprised to find the rest of the group piled onto the double bed; figures he’d be the last one to show up despite planning to come hours ago. it’s dark, the only sources of light being the two bedside lamps on the night tables casting everything in a soft, warm glow. hoseok’s in the middle, leaning against the headboard and his arms wrapped around a sleeping jungkook’s waist. the maknae has his legs strewn in hoseok and taehyung’s laps, his head cushioned on the rapper’s shoulder. he’s sleeping peacefully, with his pink mouth open and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

 

something warm and tender constricts in yoongi’s chest; without any makeup, jungkook’s skin looks slightly blotchy and devoid of color, the area beneath his eyes too dark for yoongi’s liking. he looks young and breakable, worn thin with the strain of long nights and the constant effort of their world tour. yoongi wants to wrap him in his arms and make sure nothing ever harms him.

 

the room falls quiet when yoongi and seokjin enter, everyone’s eyes flitting to them for a second. namjoon smiles briefly at yoongi and pats the vacant spot next to him on the foot of the bed in invitation. “come here, hyung,” he says, voice hushed, shuffling to the side to make room. yoongi does as he’s told, sitting down next to the leader. seokjin settles on his right, and then it’s quiet.

 

they’re all looking at jungkook. there’s something fragile and soft in the air, something that smells like the laundry detergent jungkook uses. they’re listening to his quiet breaths, counting them one by one, and cherishing each little puff of air that leaves him.

 

“how long have you all been here?” yoongi asks carefully, making sure his voice is barely more than a whisper. everyone looks tired, taehyung’s usually fluffy hair damp and stringy-looking, namjoon’s dimpled smile not quite reaching his eyes.

 

“tae, hobi-hyung, and i came in about two hours ago,” jimin answers quietly from his place on jungkook’s other side, lifting his chin from its perch on the maknae’s shoulder. his eyes look slightly puffy and his lips look like he’s been biting them incessantly for the past few hours. “he was awake, but we could see he’s tired.”

 

“he was asleep when namjoon and i came,” seokjin adds, sounding slightly sad.

 

it’s quiet once again. hoseok tightens his arms around jungkook’s waist, pulling him closer to his chest, resting his cheek on the maknae’s hair. he looks like a child holding a beloved doll that was temporarily lost and then found. “i was scared,” he admits, voice sounding ready to break.

 

a collective exhale leaves them all at once. it’s as if a cork has been released from a bottle; all the tension in the room deflates in an instant, their shoulders relaxing in unison. hearing someone else express what they’ve felt feels like a massive weight has been lifted off their shoulders, like they don’t have to pretend to be okay anymore. taehyung sniffles and raises a hand to wipe at his eyes hurriedly, blinking as if he’s ashamed of crying. seokjin offers him a hand and the younger takes it, holding it tight, like a lifeline.

 

namjoon huffs something that wanted to be a laugh but didn’t quite make it and covers his face with his palms. “i kept thinking,” he says, voice muffled, “what happens if he can’t go on, if he has to go to the hospital, what am i supposed to tell the fans-” he drops his hands and looks at them, eyes red. his smile is weak. “they paid so much to see us. some of them even flew in from different countries. fourteen percent of them have jungkook as their favorite member, and the rest of them love him so much— i didn’t know what i’d say, how i’d phrase it without making them worry.” he bites his lower lip as if to stop himself from saying anything else, a look of remorse taking over his face. “i’m so selfish for worrying about myself while kook was collapsing backstage,” he murmurs, voice getting thick with tears.

 

“don’t say that,” jimin snipes back, eyes fierce, always ready to protect s, even from themselves. “you did what you had to do. you thought like a leader.”

 

namjoon sniffles, looking unconvinced. yoongi rubs his back comfortingly and tries to hold back his own tears.

 

truth is, he was scared too. scared less. he’s never seen jungkook like this: like a deflated balloon, moving on stage on autopilot and collapsing afterward, skin pale and clammy. his eyes— yoongi will never forget how jungkook’s usually bright and lively eyes turned empty, lifeless, like someone reached inside his head and unscrewed a lightbulb. how he slumped onto the floor and let himself be handled by their staff, voice weak and barely there and his words slurred together. he’s never seen jungkook in a state of such decomposure, and that, most of all, frightened him to his core. jungkook is— he’s everything. in bangtan, of course, but also to yoongi. he watched him grow up and turn from a skinny, clueless, wide-eyed kid with no direction in life to a confident, vibrant young man. he saw him develop and find his voice and signature. he witnessed him become a person beloved by so many people across the globe— but no one loves him more than yoongi.

 

“i kept watching him,” taehyung mumbles in his low voice, eyes trained on jungkook’s chest. “at one point i was sure he was going to collapse on stage in front of everyone. i tried to position myself so i’d be ready to catch him if he fell, but-” he cuts himself short, shaking his head. out of the corner of his eye, yoongi can see seokjin squeeze his hand.

 

out of nowhere, jimin laughs, a real laugh that reaches his eyes. they startle, looking at him quizzically. “he wouldn’t let them take his socks off,” he recalls as an explanation. “they tried to get him to cool down, but he refused to take his socks off. his socks are his pride.”

 

they all laugh at that, a collective bout of laughter that erupts out of them as if someone punched them in the gut. seokjin’s wheezing his famous windshield-wiper laugh, namjoon’s doubled over in laughter, and yoongi’s clapping in mirth. it’s such a ridiculous thing to imagine: jungkook, looking like he’s ready to faint at any second, insisting that his socks remain untouched. it’s so absurd, and they had such a long and harrowing day, that that mental image is enough to move them to a totally different kind of tears.

 

“hyung?”

 

the laughter stops at once, as if a switch has been turned off, and six pairs of eyes turn to look at jungkook. the maknae is blinking sleepily, brows furrowed in confusion as he raises his head from hoseok’s shoulder to look around. yoongi registers a pang of guilt in his gut, and, in the back of his mind, thinks how powerful jungkook is— one word from him, and six lives stop dead in their tracks to give him whatever he wants.

 

“oh no,” jimin gasps, still laughing a little, his smile turning soft with affection as he runs a hand through jungkook’s hair. “we’re sorry, kookie, we didn’t mean to wake you up.”

 

jungkook leans into the singer’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut briefly. “mm, it’s okay. what were you laughing about?”

 

yoongi exchanges glances with hoseok. “nothing important,” he states flippantly. he focuses his gaze on jungkook and smiles at him lovingly, the only way he knows how to smile at him. seeing him awake and acting normal with his shields down gives him a weird sense of reassurance, like everything’s really going to be okay now. jungkook smiles back, his bunny teeth on full display. yoongi feels like someone stuck an arrow through his heart.

 

“how are you feeling, bun?” he asks, distracting himself from that feeling before he climbs into jungkook’s lap and kisses him all over his face in front of all their friends. not that they haven’t seen them be affectionate before, but this isn’t the time for that.

 

jungkook takes some time to think of that beneath his hyungs’ expectant gazes, stretching his arms and rolling his head on his shoulders. they wait anxiously for his verdict, sitting on the edge of their proverbial seats, holding their breaths. “i’m okay,” he decides eventually, and they all sag in relief. “kinda tired, but okay.”

 

“no lightheadedness? no weakness?” taehyung checks eagerly, eyes wide. hoseok raises a hand to jungkook’s forehead as if to check his temperature, but the maknae shakes his head and leans slightly away from the rapper’s palm.

 

“hyung,” he protests in his nasally you-worry-too-much voice, snatching his arm back from where jimin is trying to take his pulse. “i’m really fine. i’ve had lots of rest and i had dinner. i’m not gonna drop on you.”

 

“you better not,” seokjin warns him, wagging a finger at him, although his expression clarifies that he means it lightheartedly. “you really gave us a scare, little bun.”

 

namjoon clears his throat, signifying that things are going to turn a little serious. taehyung stops from trying to pat jungkook’s cheeks and draws his hands back to himself, and they turn their attention to the leader. “what happened back there, kook?” he asks, voice soft, like he’s talking to a wounded animal.

 

jungkook’s eyes turn down, to his lap, and his fingers play with the white duvet cover. he shrugs one shoulder sheepishly. yoongi knows how hard it is for him to talk about his own weakness; he virtually never talks about his difficulties to anyone, not even yoongi— not even namjoon, who he adores. he likes to keep a sturdy front, to be the strong one for his hyungs to rely on. if he’s strong for his hyungs, maybe they’ll feel more secure. he’s so, so shy that it’s painful sometimes. even at times like this, when it’s important for him to share his difficulties with them, he guards himself with the determination of a mother bear defending her cubs. “just,” he mumbles, “i felt really dizzy. we’ve been practicing a lot, and we’re really high up here, and i guess i wasn’t careful enough.” he looks up, scanning all of them quickly before looking at his fingers again. “sorry for scaring you.”

 

yoongi feels another pang in his chest, except now it’s one of dismay. “no, no, kookie,” he says, joining the general choir of protest.

 

“don’t apologize,” hoseok tells the maknae firmly, his eyebrows drawing closer in concern. he shakes jungkook gently. “just let us take care of you.”

 

jungkook nods, still avoiding their eyes. he’s worrying his lower lips with his teeth, looking unconvinced with their words, like he still feels guilty for worrying them when he was the one almost fainting on stage. it’s so like him, to blame himself for things he has no control over. yoongi wishes that he could convey to him that it wasn’t his fault, that it’s okay, that they just want what’s best for him, but doesn’t really know how to say it.

 

“hey,” jimin says suddenly, smile wide and eyes sparkling mischievously. “hey kook, what are you to us?”

 

jungkook groans, head falling back as if he can’t believe his situation. “hyung, really?” he asks jimin, tone pleading. the tips of his ears are turning pink, yoongi notices fondly. he silently thanks jimin for always knowing what to say, no matter what.

 

“don’t give me that. yes, really. what are you to us?” jimin insists with a -eating grin, hugging one of jungkook’s arms to his chest and trying to get the younger to look at him by shoving his face as close to jungkook’s as possible.

 

jungkook huffs, but admits defeat. “your baby,” he mutters. he looks like he’s trying to pretend that he’s suffering, but they all know how much he likes to validate his position in their hearts. jimin kisses his temple and sits back, satisfied.

 

taehyung, however, is merciless. “i’m sorry, i didn’t quite catch that,” he sing-songs, turning his head and cupping a hand around his ear. seokjin is wheezing again. yoongi himself is smiling so wide his cheeks are hurting. this scene is so familiar and comforting, and he feels invincible surrounded by his favorite people in the world.

 

jungkook rolls his eyes. his whole face is red now. “your baby,” he repeats, louder this time. taehyung and hoseok cheer, exchanging a high five between themselves as if they accomplished a great thing. jimin laughs and ruffles jungkook’s hair.

 

“that’s right,” namjoon chimes in happily. “and how much do we love and care about you?”

 

“oh my god,” yoongi mutters to himself. he can’t believe the levels of cheesiness they reach sometimes.

 

it should be illegal to be as red as jungkook is, really. “to the moon and back,” he answers, accepting his fate.

 

the room erupts into cheers. soon enough sunshine line have piled themselves onto jungkook, kissing his face, hugging, and tickling him. between their cheering and laughter, jungkook’s loud protests, and the sound seokjin makes when he throws himself into the mix with abandon, no one can hear yoongi’s sigh of satisfaction.

 

------

 

they start filtering out at some point, taehyung leaving first with a pinch to jungkook’s cheek, jimin second with a kiss to his other cheek, namjoon with a tight hug, and hoseok with a ruffle of his hair that is met with disapproval. soon it’s just yoongi, seokjin, and jungkook leaning against the bed’s headboard.

 

“it’s two a.m.,” jungkook points out quietly, then promptly muffles a yawn.

 

oh, right. time is a thing that exists. yoongi checks his phone and discovers that it is, indeed, two a.m.. somehow knowing what time it is makes all the hours he was unaware of catch onto him; suddenly his eyelids feel heavy and his thoughts process slower.

 

“i’ll go brush my teeth and get ready for bed, then,” seokjin says, getting up. it’s only now that yoongi notices the elder’s suitcase lying open next to the desk, not so far from jungkook’s messier suitcase.

 

“um,” he says, and that is a question in itself. his eyes dart between seokjin and jungkook, looking for an explanation. did they get a hotel room together? with one bed? didn’t seokjin have his own room? is he going crazy?

 

jungkook smiles. “hyung is going to sleep here tonight,” he explains lightly, clearly very pleased by this fact. “he’s going to watch over me.”

 

“i’m not going to watch over you, you’re not a murder suspect,” seokjin objects, looking exasperated. “it’s for my peace of mind, that’s all. to reassure myself that you’re really okay.”

 

“huh,” yoongi says. it’s not like he didn’t have this very idea himself, but he wanted to give jungkook some space after the distressing day he had. he thought maybe the maknae would like time to breathe and process the events of the day, but if seokjin’s staying… “can i stay here too?” he asks, hesitation coloring his voice.

 

jungkook outright beams at him. yoongi’s brain short-circuits for a second; no matter how many times jungkook smiles at him like that, he’s never going to get used to it or get tired of it. the thought of someone he loves so much looking at him so happily makes his chest constrict with joy. “of course, hyung,” he says softly, lacing their fingers together and darting forward to peck him on the lips.

 

god, yoongi loves him.

 

“fun! sleepover!” seokjin agrees easily, pulling out his toiletries bag and heading towards the bathroom. “i’ll give you two some time alone.”

 

in the silence that stretches out after the bathroom door closes, yoongi looks at jungkook and feels like the luckiest man alive. the gentle light cast by the bedside lamps makes jungkook glow, illuminating him in a warm haze that makes him look like an angel. yoongi smiles at him and feels his heart beat steady and sure, like it always did with jungkook. “you really feeling okay?” he asks the younger quietly, wanting to make sure. his eyes roam jungkook’s face searchingly, looking for any special signs of discomfort.

 

jungkook’s smile turns soft and loving, assuming those qualities that turn it into the smile only yoongi gets to see. he nods, a small thing. “i’m really, truly okay, hyung,” he assures him. “thanks for being here.”

 

“for you? always,” yoongi answers easily, meaning every word. no matter what, he’ll drop everything to make sure jungkook is safe and happy. carefully, he raises a hand to jungkook’s cheek, cupping it like it’s the most important thing in the world. “i love you,” he says simply, and means every word of that too.

 

the younger melts into him, eyes fluttering shut, long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. “i love you too,” he whispers.

 

so yoongi kisses him, sweet and tender, the slide of their lips together familiar. jungkook tastes like toothpaste and honey, and yoongi pulls him closer and hopes to god he never has to let go. jungkook’s hands weave through his hair, cradling the back of his head, and yoongi’s other arm wraps around his waist. they keep it slow and simple, not wanting to get too heated after today, but this is everything. just feeling jungkook against him, feeling his chest rise and fall and tasting him, brings a special kind of calm to yoongi’s chest.

 

they pull apart slowly, leaning their foreheads together with their eyes closed. yoongi’s thumb brushes along jungkook’s cheekbone in a back and forth repetitive motion, like a metronome. he breathes in jungkook’s smell and tunes out everything else, allowing himself to drown in this feeling, nuzzling his nose against the younger’s every once in a while.

 

eventually, though, seokjin leaves the bathroom, looking refreshed but slightly awkward for breaking their bubble. “okay, guys,” he announces, “time to go to bed.”

 

by the sleepy way jungkook blinks, yoongi thinks that’s the right call. they settle down with jungkook in the middle, his face buried in yoongi’s neck and seokjin’s arm around his waist from behind. yoongi kisses his forehead, seokjin kisses his shoulder, and they both turn off the bedside lamps.

 

“good night, hyungs,” jungkook mumbles, already sounding half-asleep.

 

“good night, kook,” comes seokjin’s muffled reply from his other side.

 

yoongi closes his eyes and inhales that laundry detergent smell and the scent of jungkook’s shampoo, tightening his arm around the younger’s middle just a little, just to assure himself he’s there and safe. “night, little bun,” he sighs, at peace.

 

yeah. they’re okay.