“Well, ,” Yoongi says, whistling lowly. “And it’s sold out?”

Namjoon shrugs. “That’s what I was told.”

The venue is some bar in the backstreets of Seoul, rented out using the funds from the ticket sales. It’s not a world-class stage, but it’s certainly far bigger than Namjoon had been expecting for an event with a few independent names attached. At capacity, it’ll be more people than Namjoon’s ever performed in front of before. Those underground events and gatherings had been nothing like this.

For now, the room is empty, giving Namjoon the chance to really scope out his surroundings. The bar sits at the back of the room, to Namjoon’s left. Old sofas and worn chairs line the edges of the room, a few standing tables scattered around. The bartender gives Namjoon a nod when they pass, and Namjoon feels important.

The stage is...huge. It’s obviously meant for live bands, enough space for drum kits and amplifiers and performers, but it’s spacious for someone like Namjoon who will be up there alone. Heavy lights hang from scaffolding above, and Namjoon’s just a little overwhelmed.

“Oh my god,” Hoseok mutters, approaching to lay his hands flat on the stage. “You’re going to be up there.”

Hoseok had been the first person Namjoon had told when he’d accepted the offer from CL, not counting Yoongi and Jimin who had been reading his messages over his shoulder. He’d promised Hoseok a ‘backstage pass’, which had sent Hoseok flying off the walls with excitement. Namjoon’s not sure a VIP ticket even means much for these events, but it’s the thought that counts – and it had made Hoseok ecstatic, so it was definitely worth it.

Hoseok had proudly named himself Namjoon’s #1 fan, all those years back when they’d first met. He had a keen interest in rap and music production, even though his skills fell more towards the performance aspect of things – Namjoon had prodded him many times over to try out songwriting, production, anything, but to no success so far. He’s hoping that bringing Hoseok along to experience the intricacies of live performance will give him a push in the right direction, maybe even spark some ideas.

Of course, Hoseok’s not the only one here tonight to support Namjoon. Jimin had practically invited himself as soon as Namjoon had accepted, buying tickets before Namjoon could even say anything. He’s meeting them there later, so Namjoon won’t see him until after the set – according to Yoongi, he’s bringing a few friends too. Taehyung, probably, because he’s obsessed with these things. Maybe some university friends. Jungkook, because Namjoon’s never known the kid leave Taehyung’s side.

“RM!” someone calls. Namjoon spins out his feet just in time to recognise the face approaching before they’re extending a hand to shake.

“CL,” he greets, taking the offered hand. She’s even prettier in person, and Namjoon definitely remembers that voice. Dark clothes, dark makeup, bleached hair, she fits right in. Looks like she could step on a man and be thanked for it.

“Call me Chaerin,” she says easily. “These your friends?”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon answers, tilting his head to the left. “He produces too, had a big hand in a lot of my stuff.”

Chaerin eyes Yoongi carefully, hungrily. “We’re always on the look for a good producer, too many rhythms out there ripped straight from the internet with no passion or creativity. Shoot me a mix if you want, we’ll talk.”

Yoongi looks too stunned to say anything, so Namjoon hurries on. “This is Hoseok,” he continues, head knocked to the other side. “He’s just interested in how all this works, was hoping to give him a tour before the show.”

“No music?” Chaerin asks.

Hoseok laughs and shakes his head. “Dance only.”

Chaerin nods thoughtfully. “You’ll be up there one day, mark my words. For now, you’re here for a look, no? Let me show you around.”

Namjoon has to bite back a laugh when he sees Hoseok’s expression, looking for all the world like’s he’s just been told he can have free run of a candy shop. He gets it – he remembers how he felt the first time he stepped up on a stage. It only gets better from here.

“RM, the others are back there,” Chaerin says, pointing somewhere over her shoulder. “People will start arriving any minute, and we want to get sound checks in before it’s too busy. I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

Namjoon nods, and she turns to Hoseok again. “You and I, we’ll have some fun in the meantime,” she says, cracking a grin. Hoseok looks like he’s just died, seen heaven, and been reborn again.

When the pair are out of earshot, Yoongi’s immediately on Namjoon’s arm. “, Namjoon, she wants to hear my music,” he rushes out. His grip tightens. “She wants to talk.”

Namjoon pats Yoongi’s hand on his arm. “No time to worry about that now, focus on the moment.”

“I am focusing,” Yoongi says, like someone who’s absolutely not focused in any way. “Holy .”

~*~

The other artists are surprisingly cool. Namjoon’s met his fair share of s and attention- in his musical lifetime, so it's a breath of a fresh air to meet a likeminded group of people who seem to be solely focused on supporting each other.

They make fast friends, hanging out in a little cloakroom behind the stage as they wait for the exterior room to fill. It feels almost too real – for Namjoon’s other performances, he’d just climbed up on the stage from the crowd when it was his turn. This – hiding out, cracking jokes with other artists, emerging on the stage from a secret door – feels so, so good.

He’d poked his head out a few times to check on Yoongi and Hoseok – the latter was nowhere to be seen, probably freaking out over some innocuous thing Chaerin said, while Yoongi was seemingly happily settled at the bar with his back to Namjoon. He was on his phone with a drink in hand, so Namjoon could only assume he was talking to Jimin and didn’t need any company.

“So, this is really your first big performance?” Minho says, leaning forward with wonder. “Nothing else at all?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “Seriously, I’m not kidding.”

“,” Minho says, collapsing backwards into the couch. “I’m so jealous.”

A girl to Namjoon’s left laughs, loud and carefree. “Minho, your first performance was , what are you talking about?”

Minho flips her off. “I’m talking about the vibe, Hyuna, god, you couldn’t catch me actually going back and reliving that stage again. No way.”

“Savour it,” the man next to Namjoon says softly, ignoring the bickering pair. He claps a hand on Namjoon’s knee. “It’s like a drug, always chasing the next stage, but that first time – nothing beats the first time you step out.”

Through the walls, Namjoon hears an MC start to hype up the crowd. By the response, there must be a ton of people out there. Namjoon’s mouth goes dry and he fights to clear his head.

“That's me, then!” Hyuna says, rising to her feet in heels that Namjoon is certain would be classed as a lethal weapon. She flicks her hair over her shoulder in Minho’s direction. “Better luck next time.”

Minho makes a face at her. “I’ll get the opening act one of these days, just you watch.”

They’re clearly close – everyone here seems to be tight-knit, except Namjoon. They’ve clearly been working together for a while. Namjoon doesn’t even feel out of place; if anything, he feels lucky to be invited in to such a circle, even if it ends up only being a one-time thing.

~*~

The backroom begins to thin out as the night deepens. All the loud artists – the main show – had long since gone to perform. They rarely came back afterwards either, if only for a second to collect their things. The main floor was the place to be after a set, that much was clear.

Namjoon’s not the final act of the night, but he’s close. It makes sense, given how new he is to both the scene and this particular collective of artists. Someone had explained it to him earlier, quickly hashing over the line-up with a slew of names that Namjoon would neither recognise nor remember. There’s some quiet guy brooding in the corner to wrap up the official performances for the night, and a DJ afterwards to take the crowd through to close.

So when the time comes for Namjoon to climb up those rickety little stairs and step out onto the stage, Namjoon only has himself to hype his spirits. He’s glad he’s at least had experience on stage before, even if it’s far more casual than this – he knows his deep breathing exercises, knows to run through his setlist in his mind one more time, knows to straighten his shirt and double knot his shoes (that last one, he’d learnt from disaster. He’d never forgotten to check since).

He’d had a lot of help with his setlist, from Yoongi mostly – but also CL. She’d assured him that this wasn’t that kind of event, the kind where anything but hard and vicious rap would get you thrown out. He’d heard it again tonight, listening through the wall as the bass thrums. A lot of the artists he’d met were mixing the lines between lyric and beat, fading between singing and rapping like it were natural. Namjoon’s never had the chance to perform any of his ‘softer’ music, the deeper kind of stuff that he really enjoyed creating, so tonight would be...different. A test, of sorts.

When he hears the MC mention his name, he tunes out. Stands at the top of those stairs and does what he does best – he breathes deep and listens to his heartbeat, nods his way through every song on his list and imagines the transitions, tugs on the bottom of his shirt and runs the wrinkles from his coat, taps the soles of his boots against the wooden panel beneath him to be secure.

And when the MC finally says those fateful words – give it up for RM! – he pushes through that door as Namjoon and steps out onto the stage as RM.

~*~

Namjoon’s heard crowds, he’s been part of them – but never like this. When he first appears through that door, they applaud and whistle. When he arrives centre stage, takes the microphone from the MC and bows, they raise their drinks to the sky and shout his name. They don’t know him, but they’re going to give him that chance.

It’s not until he launches into his first song that he truly experiences that thrill, the one every other artist here seemed to envy and lust after. Any concept of identity is lost to the crowd as they thrum in time with his every word – Namjoon loses himself on stage, but he finds himself too.

When he doesn’t skip a beat as he moves to the next song, and the crowd ebbs in like a wave, Namjoon decides that he can’t live without this. He feels high up on this stage, feeding off the energy of the strangers below him as they crash into his words, and he’s almost certain that he’ll never feel the same again.

He’s never been much of a performer, never had that revered ‘stage presence’ that everyone keeps talking about. He’d always hoped that it would be something that would come in its own time, with practice and experience – but up here, Namjoon’s perspective shifts. The stage is his world now, it’s all he knows as he lives and breathes with the moment. Performance isn’t something he has to think about, but rather something that he can’t ignore. The crowd mirrors his every action and Namjoon’s never felt more alive.

His next song is a little slower, and he takes the moment’s gap between the music to take a breather and reset his mind. He can’t help but grin when the noise level only grows louder, the crowd impatient and drunk and high and completely without inhibition. He tries scanning for his friends, but to no avail – the lights are incredibly bright on his face, morphing the audience into a great dark mass barring the first two rows.

He doesn’t have much of a chance after that, familiar music striking up to the sound of cheers and whoops – and Namjoon’s ever so slightly nervous, for the first time since he stepped out on stage. His first two were ‘crowd hyper’ songs, as CL had directed him to choose. Perhaps slow is not the right word, but I Believe is certainly not one of Namjoon’s most energetic creations either.

As an added bonus, a fair chunk of the song is in English – Namjoon’s confident he can do it well, but he’s not so confident that it’ll sit right with the audience. He’s not performing for a room of English scholars; it’s a huge risk to take.

Those anxious thoughts are brushed aside as the first two bars of the song pass, and Namjoon can’t help but gape. It starts with one person, a group follows, and it spreads like wildfire through the packed bar – people are clapping in time with his song, in time with those same synthesised claps Namjoon had added to the song all that time ago. It’s surreal in all the best kinds of ways, something that Namjoon never would’ve even dreamed of – and yet here he stands

Those anxious thoughts are crushed to smithereens when Namjoon starts rapping again, because the crowd swarms with excitement. Namjoon doesn’t really get it; there’s no way every single person in here knows English enough to understand his song – and maybe that’s just it.

Yoongi had assuaged him once when Namjoon said he felt like an impostor by using a foreign language in his work. He was worried it came tongue as arrogant, like he thought he was better than everyone else by rejecting his native language – and Yoongi had laughed in his face. Most of us don’t speak a of English, why the would you care what one idiot thinks? That ’s cool, and the right people? They’ll get that.

Namjoon forgets to breathe entirely when the second verse comes and goes, and he suddenly can’t hear himself over the chaos of voices erupting in the room.

No matter where I am or what I do,

I believe, I believe,

Wherever I am, I will protect myself,

I believe, I believe,

They sing along, in horrifically out-of-tune tones that would make any musician cringe, voices screaming and shouting like they have to be heard over everyone else. These total strangers may not have come to see him personally, but they stayed when he arrived and now they’re learning his song to sing it back to him like this is some sort of top 40 hit. They don’t know English and they don’t care, rampaging through lines with sounds that don’t make sense – but the energy is there, the appreciation is real.

Namjoon wants to give them everything he has, even if he’s only got one thing on this stage – and so he launches into the next verse with a newfound intensity that only grows. He can barely hear the shouts and cheers over the blood thumping in his ears. Namjoon is alive up here, and no one is going to be able to tear him down.

They repeat the same stunt when the chorus peels back around, and Namjoon might be about to cry – but that might also be okay. He doesn’t even bother holding the microphone to his mouth for that last repeat, enraptured by the sound of his own lyrics screamed back at him.

He hopes these people realise what they’re saying, and he hopes they believe it. The important parts are in Korean – even if one person hears themselves and believes in the words they scream, it’s enough.

No matter where I am or what I do,

I believe, I believe,

Wherever I am, I will protect myself,

I believe, I believe.

~*~

Namjoon finishes on his newest song, the one that had garnered him all this attention in the first place. It’s not his favourite song that he’s ever produced, but it has a strong beat and he can understand the appeal. He thinks he might even grow to love it that much more when he performs it, finding new energy in his words when the crowd responds.

Namjoon nearly makes it through without a mistake. He’s so close, in the third verse, when he trips and stumbles over his words. In his defence, he makes it up quickly and no one seems to particularly notice – but Namjoon’s going to be forever changed regardless.

It happens when he notices a movement in the audience, a group shoving their way forward as another departs (probably for the bar – Namjoon doesn’t care). It’s been happening all night, the natural waves of people moving in and out from the stage. This group, this group is different.

He notices Yoongi first, without fail – mostly because Jimin’s next to him with that startling pink hair that stands out like nothing else. Hoseok’s hanging off Jimin’s arm, and Namjoon’s almost certain he can hear his voice from here.

This is fine, Namjoon knew they’d be here – hell, he would’ve been very offended if they’d left during his set.

On Yoongi’s other side, three people. There’s a tall guy in a dark hoodie that Namjoon only recognises because of the ball of energy behind him. Jungkook and Taehyung – the former fitting in like he’s been to hundreds of these events, the latter looking like he’s about to have a heart attack and is actively enjoying it.

This is also fine. Jimin had said he was bringing Taehyung, and Jungkook is never far behind. Namjoon’s not fussed.

It’s that last person that trips Namjoon up, wedged between Yoongi and Jungkook like some kind of prince among thieves. Looking very out of place, like he’s unsure what rules and constructs bind him in this social universe, is Kim Seokjin.

That is not fine.

He at least looks to be enjoying himself, even giving Namjoon a smile when they make eye contact, which Namjoon supposes is a good thing. Now he just has to make it through the rest of his song, pretending like the guy he’s got a ridiculous high-school type crush on isn’t just sitting there in front of him and watching his every move. It’s cool, whatever. Namjoon can do this.

Namjoon doesn’t look in that direction for the rest of the song, which he figures probably isn’t the right solution, but it works. When that final long bass note vibrates through the cramped space, Namjoon’s head is fuzzy and his heartbeat is in his throat. He hands off the microphone to the MC when he jumps up on stage, bows when the audience screams and shouts his name. The high is still there, and now Namjoon’s not entirely sure what to do with it.

When the MC finally waves him off, Namjoon takes one step off the stage and jumps down into the crowd. He’s immediately swamped by friends and strangers alike, people cheering for him and congratulating him and praising his work. He begins to regain feeling in his body as he accepts handshakes and thanks people, smile growing wider every time – I ing did it.

“ yeah, hyung!” Taehyung shouts from somewhere behind him, accompanied seconds later by a body hitting his side. “You were so cool!”

Yoongi smashes into Namjoon’s other side – Namjoon doesn’t see him so much as recognise his smell, they use the same shampoo and body wash. Namjoon lifts an arm up to throw around his friends’ shoulders, tipping his head back and beaming at the ceiling. This is ing incredible.

When he brings his head back down to Earth, Hoseok’s in front of him. Namjoon had totally been right, like I always am, because there’s this crazed look in Hoseok’s eye that Namjoon can only recognise from his own journey into music. See? he wants to scream. This is where you belong!

The crowd begins to thin out around them as the next act steps up on stage, combined with Taehyung tugging him towards the back of the room. Hoseok’s still dazed in front of him, Taehyung’s chattering on about nothing and everything at once, Yoongi’s barely staying upright despite them only walking in a straight line.

Namjoon’s suspicion that Yoongi is drunk or high becomes founded when Yoongi topples off him to instead cling to Jimin – Yoongi’s not a big PDA kind of guy, but Jimin just laughs and pats the top of his head.

Taehyung hasn’t let go of his arm, is shaking it in time with something he’s saying – Namjoon thinks it might be aimed at Jungkook this time, so he doesn’t feel too guilty about not listening. But really, who can blame him? He’s got eyes for one person in this room right now.

“Hey,” Seokjin says, an unsure smile crossing his face like he’s not sure what comes next – but all Namjoon can think is holy I’ve met an angel. “I hope it’s not weird, Jimin invited me and–”

“Never,” Namjoon breathes out before reeling himself in. Keep it together. “I mean, it’s cool, I’m glad you could make it. Did you, uh– did you like it?” he says dumbly, twisting to gesture vaguely back in the direction of the stage.

All of Namjoon’s systems shut down when Seokjin laughs. They’ve called over the phone before, this is nothing new, this shouldn’t affect him this much – but it’s also so much more real in person, for lack of a better description. Namjoon’s running only on his most basic functions right now, and maybe not even that.

“, man, you crushed that ,” Yoongi slurs, cutting in over whatever Seokjin had to say. He punches Namjoon’s arm, weak in whatever inebriated state he’s turned to. “You’re like a full pro now, yeah? You better not forget me when you’re big and rich and famous.”

Namjoon gives Yoongi a light shove. “You’re an idiot,” he says, grinning wide. “It’ll be you next.”

Yoongi gives him a thumbs up. “Ride or die.”

“Ride or die,” Namjoon affirms.

Someone catches Namjoon’s elbow, turning around to find one of the artists he’d met earlier in the backroom. He’s full of nothing but praise for Namjoon’s performance, almost to an overwhelming extent. Namjoon hopes he means it – he feels pretty damn good about what he did up there, but that could just be the adrenaline talking.

They don’t linger long, the other man drawn away by what Namjoon can only assume are his friends, boasting a tray full of shots. Namjoon turns back around on his heel – and promptly discovers his worst nightmare has come true.

Hoseok’s gone, he can’t see Taehyung, and Jungkook blends in so well with this crowd he doesn’t even bother looking. He spots Yoongi lounging on a couch against the far wall with Jimin on his lap, and Namjoon quickly decides that’s a no-go. Which only leaves him with...

Seokjin laughs, high and easy. Namjoon panics. Not that Seokjin isn’t the most fantastic person Namjoon’s ever met, but being alone with him is the last thing Namjoon wants to do right now. He’s going to die and he’s almost positive this is some kind of set up because Jimin’s exactly the kind of traitorous little–

“You guys are really cute together, you and Yoongi,” Seokjin teases, kicking his foot forward to connect with Namjoon’s boot. Seokjin’s in sneakers, way too pristine to be stepping anywhere near this place, and Namjoon is dying. “You look really good tonight, too.”

Namjoon blanches. He looks good? “So do you,” he manages, and he just can’t tear his eyes away from Seokjin – a god among men.

It’s probably just the atmosphere making Seokjin look so blissed out, like he’s just witnessed the best view of his life – a few drinks in and smoke laying heavy in the air, people pressing all around him, Namjoon feels it too.

“Thanks,” Seokjin says, smiling genuinely – and maybe it’s not the atmosphere after all, at least not for Namjoon. “I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to wear, I hope it’s okay.”

“More than okay,” Namjoon mutters, but doesn’t repeat himself when Seokjin asks. It's pretty hyped inside the tiny bar, with someone up on stage rapping and music blaring through the sound system and people shouting all around.

He takes one last Yoongi, pressed under Jimin with hands roaming, and decides that his best friend can go himself and find his own way home. “Do you want to head outside where it’s a bit quieter?”

Namjoon’s not sure what he’s supposed to expect – maybe a simple yeah sure that sounds great, which would’ve sufficed. He does not expect Seokjin to step beside him and loop his arm around Namjoon’s, leaving Namjoon absolutely breathless on a cologne that could belong to only one person.

“Lead the way,” Seokjin says, something light and airy in his tone that Namjoon can’t quite put a finger on. And lead the way he does, because Namjoon’s never said no to Seokjin before and he’s certainly not about to start now.

~*~