Chapter Text
//
hoseok is the last of them to leave. well, almost.
he pauses in the doorway to give jeongguk one last worried glance. “are you sure you’ll be alright this week? you’re welcome to come with me, guk-ah. you know my family would love to have you.”
“yes, hyung,” he sighs, “i promise it’ll be fine.” (this is the twenty-seventh time he’s said that exact phrase in the last couple of days — not that he’s counting or anything.)
the semester break couldn’t have come at a better time: they’d all been so exhausted from studying for midterms that the prospect of ten days to themselves was heavenly. all seven of them had jumped at the chance to take a break and relax, to go see their families, maybe do a bit of vacationing. the eagerness in the air was palpable; they never have this much free time, not all at once.
two days in, though, on the day before jeongguk was supposed to fly back to busan and see his family, his father had called and told him that one of his CEOs had passed away and his parents were going to attend the funeral... in bangkok.
(“we’ll be back in five days,” his mother had fretted over the phone, her voice somewhat wistful. she sounded a little frantic after packing all morning. “are you sure you don’t want to come home anyway? or at least when we’ll be back?”
“no, eomma, it’s okay, really. there’s no reason for me to fly home then and have to return to seoul the next day.”
“we miss you,” his father added suddenly, and jeongguk’s mouth had curved into a soft smile. “you’ll still visit in june, right? when your brother is back?”
“yes, i promise. and i miss you, too.”)
he reassured them several more times that it was fine, that he would see them soon anyway, and that having the place to himself for the whole week sounded just fine to him. maybe i’ll get some decent rest without namjoon-hyung’s snoring, he’d joked so they wouldn’t feel too bad.
and one by one, his hyungs had all left with the same fond, longing looks on their faces that hoseok’s giving him now — with his bags still clutched in his arms and boarding pass sticking halfway out of his coat pocket.
“are you sure?”
but jeongguk just smiles, gently tucks the plane ticket more securely into his jacket like he’s the older one, and guides him out of the front door with a wave. “enjoy the time at home, hyung. i’ll see you soon.”
he watches as the car drives off, grinning at the sight of hoseok’s cheerful face and exaggerated waving from the back window until it reaches the end of the street and becomes a speck.
and then… then he realizes he’s very much alone.
closing the door with an unexpected tightness in his chest, he shuffles back into the living room and glances around, not used to the dead silence that meets him now. it’s a little unnerving, if he’s being fully honest with himself. hell, it’s weird enough when one of them is gone, but all six? it’s downright eerie.
jeongguk exhales. ignores the twinge of discomfort that settles inside him like a dull weight. it’s going to be a long week.
//
i.
he wakes up the next morning to his phone buzzing incessantly, and curses whoever decided to bombard the group chat when the sun is barely up.
his sleepy grimace falls away almost immediately, though, when he sees the pictures that taehyung and jimin have sent, both sporting identical (and terrifying) looks of glee from their hotel in osaka. jimin is wearing a pair of huge novelty sunglasses with dolphins printed on the frames, for no particular reason, and jeongguk laughs at the sight.
namjoon replies with a selfie of his own, his easy-going mother beaming in the background as she makes breakfast. jeongguk smirks, typing.
jeongguk [07:47] so did she force u out of the kitchen just as a precaution or have u already set something on fire this morning hyung
jimin [07:48] MNDFNMFDM ,:H DH
hobi [07:48] LMFAOOO and good morning everyone
yoongi [07:50] savage
taehyung sends so many emojis that he almost misses namjoon’s replies (a picture of him, scowling, and then another, holding his mother’s famous egg toast with a very smug expression). jeongguk’s stomach growls at the thought, suddenly very aware of the prospect of having to prepare all of his own meals for the rest of the week, with no available hyung to cajole into buying him food.
but, hey, if that means seokjin’s not-so-secret stash of really good ramen is up for grabs, then sure. he grins at the prospect.
jin hasn’t texted them yet anyway, but he isn’t surprised. their eldest is probably still asleep, clearly remembering to silence his phone before the onslaught of messages had started.
“smart guy,” jeongguk remarks out loud, trudging to the bathroom with a yawn. jin deserves more than a few mornings of sleeping in, anyway.
the rest of the day isn’t so weird, not really.
he’s able to blast whatever music he wants, as loud and as frequently as he feels, and doesn’t have to worry about monopolizing the hot water. he finds that his impromptu karaoke session in the kitchen makes him feel a little more energized, although he can’t ignore the pang of missing jin or tae’s company as he belts out the lyrics and carefully dices onions.
the same feeling lingers, right as he curls up in front of the TV with a steaming bowl of ramen. the couch does seem just a little too big, but he simply turns up the volume until it drowns his thoughts out.
when his head finally hits the pillow just before midnight he feels somewhat more relaxed, at least, and it only takes him a few minutes before he’s completely and utterly asleep.
ii.
the second day isn’t bad, per se. it’s just... odd.
maybe it’s because he accidentally slept through the entire morning, not realizing he could sleep that long without the usual noise of their rushed morning routines — or seokjin prodding him awake for class — and by the time he does reach over to check the time, the screen’s brightness makes him wince.
he sees that there are a hundred and seventy-one unread texts and decides he’ll need some coffee before he can go through them all.
jeongguk replies to their messages and pictures somewhat absentmindedly, if only with a little less enthusiasm than normal: he responds to jimin and taehyung’s ridiculous adventures with the right amount of hilarity. he comments on how nice the backyard view is at yoongi’s family home in daegu, and to please pet holly for him. he tells hoseok how relaxed he and his sister look as they sit poolside in the morning sun. tells jin that he should remember to bring them some of that good coffee from the local shop he remembers, and hopes he’s enjoying his time away. he asks namjoon whether he’s catching up on sleep for once.
jeongguk’s happy for them, he really is. his hyungs deserve this break more than anything else in the world. but... it doesn’t make the weight in his chest feel any lighter.
he’d hoped that this downtime would be refreshing, but he just feels tense.
ultimately, he decides to go to the studio, maybe get in a few hours of dance practice while everyone else is gone. jeongguk feels a little more energetic at the prospect of being productive, of having new routines to show hoseok and jimin, and hopes that by the time he gets back he’ll be too pleasantly tired to even think about anything else.
when he gets to their front door, though, he remembers that the campus is technically closed for the break, and the little bounce in his step is gone at the realization.
jeongguk sighs. the uneasy feeling is back with a vengeance.
he ends up falling asleep on the couch just after dinner, the soft background noise of the television doing more to ease him to sleep than anything, and completely forgets to respond to everyone’s texts about how his week is.
iii.
the third day is harder.
jeongguk wakes up on the couch with a painful crick in his neck and regrets not bringing a pillow out to the living room before he’d passed out. it’s the brightness of the mid-morning sun that’s roused him, and he’s a bit disoriented, especially after the unusual amount of sleep he had gotten the previous day.
his phone is in the kitchen, still plugged in where he’d left it as he prepared dinner — but he decides he’s still too sleepy to get up and check everyone’s messages just yet.
so he just stays curled up on the couch. watches the sun inch slowly across the living room floor as the morning progresses, until a particularly vibrant ray of sunlight reaches the foot sticking out from under the edge of the blanket.
jeongguk arches his entire leg into it, the warmth unexpectedly intoxicating, and he finds himself shuffling over to the sliding glass door, curling up into a ball under the full glow of the morning sun.
it’s heavenly, and he’s lulled right back into a deep sleep before he even registers that he’s tired.
//
the cold wakes him up, later that evening.
when he cracks an eye open, the sun has almost completely gone down and only the glow of TV that he’d forgotten to turn off distinguishes anything in the living room. jeongguk sits up very suddenly and blanches at the sensation, his stomach rolling and head spinning without warning.
jeongguk stumbles into the kitchen with a hand clutching his now-aching head and fumbles around the cabinet for the bottle of painkillers. he’s still missing the warmth, and he begins to shiver as though he’s been out in the bitter cold all day instead of napping in the sunlight.
the glow of his phone catches his eye, just then, and he forgets about the chill for a minute.
he has countless unread messages. he reads through them, seeing them but not really registering any of it — not till he gets to several persistent texts in a row from jimin and jin asking why he hasn’t answered them all morning.
namjoon [03:34] as if he ever checks the group text kekeke
jeongguk smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he has just enough time to type out a quick “sorry, hyungs, just been asleep,” before the chill in his bones returns.
he’s suddenly shaking, trembling like a leaf - and he barely manages to stumble to the bathroom to turn on the shower at full blast before his teeth are genuinely chattering. it’s completely unnerving, how unsteady he is.
jeongguk climbs into the hot water, wraps his arms around his torso as he gasps for breath, and doesn’t feel warm for a long while.
it’s when he collapses back into bed hours later — hair still dripping wet, chest aching — that he remembers his phone still in the kitchen, and finds that he doesn’t really care.
iv.
the headache wakes him up on the fourth morning.
he can tell it’s just before dawn, even without checking, because namjoon’s empty bed a few feet away is just barely discernible in the pale blue light that creeps into the bedroom. it’s no wonder he’s woken up so early — he’d essentially slept the entire day away, only really waking up to shower. even then, the memory of the cold hits him, and he shudders involuntarily. wraps the duvet tighter around himself.
by the time he talks himself into getting out of bed and making some tea, a couple hours have passed and his phone is already buzzing with new messages as he makes his way into the kitchen.
(he doesn’t rush to check them.)
the repetitive motions of washing the dishes is almost enough to keep him in the half-asleep state, standing at the sink with his eyes glazed over, but the unexpected ringing of his phone breaks him out of it.
it’s taehyung that greets him on the other line. “good morning, jeonggukie!”
“hey, hyung,” he begins, having to stop to clear his throat awkwardly. his voice sounds scratchy, and his head is pounding. “how’s osaka?”
“we’re having so much fun, but we miss you! why have you been so quiet?” someone yells something in the background, and taehyung cackles. “jiminie wants to know whether you’ve been playing too many video games.”
jeongguk feels the corners of his mouth pull into a halfhearted grin. “no, hyung, i’ve just been busy, i guess. i was just doing the dishes when you-"
“our maknae, doing the dishes? it’s a miracle. jin-hyung is going to faint from shock by the time we’re back! hey, did you get the picture we sent last night? i’ve been dying to tell you the story, it’s so funny.”
he breathes out a little laugh, but just as he’s about to reply, the phone call begins to cut out and taehyung’s voice is jarred by static and silence.
“hey, hello... are... there? guk-ah? i don’t... hotel... great service... us later, we’ll talk... soon!... and... love you-"
the sound of the still-running faucet is back, along with the eerie quiet of the house.
he sets his phone down on the counter. the tips of his fingers feel numb, his chest light all of a sudden, and he wonders whether he should try to call someone else.
jeongguk talks himself out of it, though. they’re probably enjoying their time away, and it’s nothing. he’s fine, he tells himself. once he gets some more rest he’ll feel a little better.
by the time the sun sets again, and he realizes he’s been blankly staring at the TV all day, a faint voice in the back of his mind registers that maybe - maybe, he should have called.
v.
his phone remains on the kitchen counter. jeongguk lets the battery die, even though the charger sits just inches away.
he stares at it the next morning — his fingers almost itching to do something — but for some reason the thought of powering it back up and having to filter through hundreds of messages is revolting, and too daunting. like the tension in his chest might swallow him up if he does.
jeongguk closes the fridge before he has the chance to feel worse. deep down he knows he probably is hungry, but the notion of food settling in his stomach like a tasteless lump is too much to deal with.
in the end, he just goes back to bed.
vi.
the sixth day, he has a lot more trouble getting up.
he doesn’t even know what time it is. the dark sky and the sounds of heavy rainfall give no indication of how many hours have passed — but he’s too tired to care.
he spends the whole day like that, curled up in a ball underneath the blankets, vaguely wondering what the others are up to.
much, much later, jeongguk finally manages to untangle himself from the sheets. his limbs feel heavy and unfamiliar as he stands, and he stumbles a few times on the way to the bathroom.
the moment he turns on the light and catches his reflection in the mirror, he’s almost taken aback by it. stares at the deep circles under his eyes, the dullness of his hair, the pallor of his own skin.
for a split second, it looks like a stranger is staring back at him. but then he blinks, and the moment is gone.
he brushes his teeth, at least, but he’s just so exhausted that he can’t even be bothered to do anything else, and returns to the pitch black of the bedroom as though he hasn’t slept in days.
he’s out before his head even hits the pillow.
vii.
jeongguk feels a little less tired the next morning, but it’s an uneasy awareness of his own body that goes along with it.
waves of disgust and guilt course through him, and he feels angry at himself for making zero effort at keeping the place clean. that he’s done nothing for days on end, that he can’t even keep the house in order, and that he’s so tired for no reason at all.
just as he begins to worry about the mess his hyungs will find when they return — and just as that worry starts to turn into a panic that makes his head spin — he realizes there isn’t a mess. he hasn’t gotten out of bed enough to make a mess, and that suddenly seems a lot more pathetic than it is.
suddenly jeongguk begins to cry, feeling the grime on his face and the weight of his unwashed hair, and cries until his head feels like it’s about to split open.
he barely registers the glow of the setting sun through the crack in the curtains, and briefly wonders what day of the week it is before the exhaustion pulls him back under.
viii.
there’s a bottle of water sitting on the nightstand.
he’s been staring at it for several minutes — maybe longer, maybe hours — and he knows that if he could just manage to sit up, to pull himself up a few inches to reach it, he’d feel a lot better.
he just… can’t move.
the dull ache that had started in his head several days earlier feels like it’s taken over every muscle, nerve, bone, and cell in his entire body. he wonders whether he’s ever felt this tired in his entire life. like he’s drowning in it. so he just stares at it a little longer, not caring whether he surfaces.
this time, jeongguk doesn’t even feel the tears that begin to leak out of the corners of his eyes.
//
it’s yoongi’s voice that pulls him above the surface, hours later.
the faraway words are muffled, and he only catches the tone rather than what’s being said. he latches onto the familiarity of it like a lifeline in the middle of a storm.
the bedroom door opens tentatively, and jeongguk winces at the light that pours in. he takes a deep breath, feeling his chest expand painfully with the effort.
“hyung?” he croaks. yoongi’s eyes widen at the sight of him.
jeongguk feels another wave of self-loathing course through his veins, as heavy and slow as molasses, and he can practically feel his body sink deeper into the mattress. the tips of his fingers are numb again and his heartbeat feels very faint.
he hates himself, very suddenly.
the feeling of it is more intense than he realized before, and he briefly wonders how long he would have stayed in his bed if it had been two weeks instead of just one. or a month. if he would have just curled up further in the pitch black of the bedroom and let the world pass by.
“jeongguk-ah?” yoongi ventures, approaching the bed carefully. “hey, are you sick?”
he thinks about it for a moment, unsure of how to answer. the words get lost in his mind, tangled like a mess of thread before he can even unravel the thoughts.
it’s the tears that suddenly burn in his eyes that answer for him.
“oh, guk,” yoongi says, and it’s the immediate, genuine understanding in his voice that makes jeongguk want to curl up in his arms and break, but he just doesn’t have the energy to. it’s beginning to hurt just to breathe, and he feels so nauseous, and he wonders if yoongi notices the hitch in his breath, or sees the gray tone in his skin, or the puffiness of his eyes, or —
“i’m here,” yoongi is gently saying, over and over. steady as a rock. “i’m right here. hyung’s got you.”
jeongguk feels a hand on the side of his face, and closes his eyes. he has to remind himself that yoongi has been here, too. it’s yoongi that is as strong as steel, as brave as he can imagine, and he’s suddenly very aware of how pathetic he must seem. he doesn’t deserve this. he’s not like any of them.
yoongi’s low, soothing voice reaches him again, murmuring things like i know, baby, and it’s okay and just hold on. he sets down his phone and glasses on the nightstand, right next to the bottle of water, and jeongguk realizes he must have just returned to the dorm a short while ago.
(has it really been a week?)
his blank gaze must lock onto the water longer than he means to, because as if he can hear jeongguk’s thoughts, yoongi is carefully sitting him up and pressing it to his mouth.
“come on, jeonggukie, drink. there you go.”
jeongguk finds himself practically inhaling it from the first drop that touches his cracked lips. he feels yoongi’s hand on his hair, even as gross as it is, holding him close as he drinks for what feels like the first time in days. he thinks it might actually have been that long, and he’s sickened by the thought of it.
yoongi just holds him closer, leans back against the headboard and pulls him to his chest. jeongguk can’t really hear what his hyung is saying, but his ear presses up against him and lets the sound of their breathing ground him.
he’s asleep in less than a minute.
//
there’s a faint ringing in his ears.
he can hear it over the steady sound of yoongi’s heartbeat, and it won’t go away. it takes a few minutes for him to realize it’s been there all week, maybe longer, and he just wants it to stop.
from the corner of his eye jeongguk sees the bedroom door open a little, and someone hesitates in the hallway. he can feel the vibrations of yoongi’s voice as he says something, but he can’t tell what the words are. everything in his chest is still a bit too tight.
a hand touches his cheek, ever so gently -
- and when jeongguk manages to focus his gaze upward he sees namjoon looking down at him.
his other hyung’s lips are moving but he still can’t understand what’s being said. he’s underwater, still. the faintness in his limbs hasn’t gone away and his lungs feel so, so heavy.
namjoon calmly wipes the tears away from jeongguk’s face. he hadn’t even noticed he was crying.
yoongi says something in a low voice, and suddenly jeongguk’s being shifted into an upright position. his limbs ache in protest.
his hyungs steady him. talk to him in soft, comforting voices. he wants to apologize, to cry, to go back to sleep, to tell them he can’t hear what they’re saying, but — but his mouth feels like it’s lined with cotton, and the words are lost before he can even grasp what he wants to say.
(he doesn’t know what he wants, exactly, but it occurs to him that yoongi and namjoon are there to help figure it out for him.)
they slowly lead him down the hallway, each supporting an elbow, until they make it to the bathroom. the lights are bright and intrusive, much more so than he’s used to after the darkness of the bedroom, and he has to shut his eyes for a while. namjoon keeps his arm around his shoulders as the steam of the shower begins to curl into the air.
jeongguk numbly shucks off his clothes before a careful arm lowers his unsteady frame into the bathtub. he curls into himself, lets his head rest against his knees as the warm water courses over his head and down his back.
he can tell someone’s stayed with him in the bathroom — there’s a figure on the other side of the shower curtain and an unwavering voice talking to him, trying to guide him out of whatever he’s in. he wants to respond, he really does. the sickeningly familiar weight inside him is still there, though, and makes his back ache like nothing else. his lungs feel solid in his chest, like ice-cold iron.
he doesn’t know how much time passes like that. it could be hours, for all he knows.
but eventually jeongguk starts to thaw under the warm water. focuses on the drops rolling over his closed eyes and down his face, past his shoulders. the knots in his muscles begin to unravel, a little. he can feel his body respond to the temperature, and he stretches, just enough to breathe easier.
it’s namjoon’s voice that he makes out past the sound of running water.
he still doesn’t know what his hyung is saying — he can’t make out any words, just muffled tones and sounds — but it’s comforting, nonetheless. a welcome break from the silence that had threatened to bury him for days on end.
eventually he’s able to stretch his shoulders out without feeling the same strain on his muscles, and he reaches out to snag the bottle of shampoo on the edge of the bathtub. as he massages it into his scalp for the first time in days, his breaths come out a little easier, watching the suds go down the drain in silence.
by the time he shuts the shower off, he begins to feel a little more human, at least. a little steadier. namjoon’s voice gets quiet for a few moments — jeongguk wonders if he left — but then a hand reaches around the curtain with a towel, and he realizes he hasn’t stopped speaking to him the entire time.
when he pulls back the curtain yoongi is there, too, and they help him into fresh clothes as though he’s a child instead of… of -
“jeongguk-ah,” yoongi says, and the clarity of it surprises jeongguk out of the pull of his own self-loathing.
for the first time in hours, he looks up at them — really looks at them — and the sight of his hyungs takes his breath away. they’re so vivid, so bright and strong and present, and are both looking at him without any sort of disgust or judgment in their eyes.
i don’t deserve this, jeongguk thinks. he doesn’t deserve namjoon carefully drying his hair with a towel, or yoongi passing him his toothbrush, or their comforting words.
he’s so grateful for them, he thinks, that it hurts.
just as they’re stepping into the hallway, the front door opens and hoseok appears.
the wide smile on his face immediately vanishes as he takes in the sight of the three of them. jeongguk wonders if he looks as bad as he feels.
namjoon simply takes his hand and continues to lead him down the hall while yoongi grasps hoseok’s shoulder, talking to him in a low voice that jeongguk can’t make out. he imagines what they’re saying, and the possibilities come at him like a tsunami.
“here, guk,” namjoon says, again distracting him from his spiraling thoughts.
he blinks. they’re standing in the doorway of yoongi and jin’s room.
namjoon leads them to the edge of yoongi’s bed, and when he sits down, he registers the scent of clean laundry and tea in the air. it’s such a far cry from the current state of their own bedroom, and he’s suddenly ashamed.
jeongguk realizes he’s shaking — not full on trembling like he had felt for days on end, but there’s a chill that returns in his bones, and it’s almost enough to pull him back under.
all of a sudden two hands are pulling a sweatshirt over his head, and he belatedly realizes it’s still warm with namjoon’s body heat, and smells like him. his eyes close in appreciation.
namjoon wraps his arm back around jeongguk’s shoulders and pulls him into his side, supporting his weight, voice soft when it reaches jeongguk’s ears.
“is this good?”
jeongguk nods. it’s all he can do, but apparently it’s enough of an answer because namjoon just hums in response.
he doesn’t know how long namjoon lets him stay like that, leaning against him with his head drooping, but when he finally opens his eyes from the half-asleep daze he’s been in, hoseok is carefully sitting down on the bed next to him.
a hand brushes the hair away from his eyes. “jeonggukie,” hoseok says, his voice like a balm, “do you want to sleep for a little bit?”
jeongguk’s eyes close, and he just nods again. he finds that whatever energy he’d regained before is completely gone, but namjoon and hoseok don’t seem to mind, only shifting him a bit. hoseok’s arms wrap around him. one of them says something else, and although he’s already too far gone to hear it, he doesn’t miss the gentle kiss placed against his temple.
this time as he falls asleep it isn’t the weight in his chest that drags him under, but the warmth radiating from hobi’s embrace. the low murmur of their voices close by. the feeling of someone’s fingers running through his hair, as light as a feather.
//
when jeongguk finally cracks his eyes open hours and hours later, it’s dark outside and hoseok’s arms are gone. for a split second, he’s disoriented enough to wonder if it was all a fever dream. if he’s back in the void of his own bedroom.
he’s met with the soft smile of jin, though, and realizes he’s not alone.
his eldest hyung shuts the book he’s holding and stands up. from the looks of the chair and empty coffee mug on yoongi’s nightstand, he’s been there a while. “hey there,” he whispers, leaning over him. “are you feeling a little better now?”
jeongguk thinks about it for a few seconds. he tentatively stretches his limbs, waiting for the overwhelming pain to radiate in his muscles, but he’s pleasantly surprised to find that they’re a little less heavy than they were before.
when he nods, meeting jin’s eyes, they both know he’s telling the truth.
“good,” jin says with a tender smile. “do you want to sit up? you’ve been asleep for almost nine hours.”
that surprises him. he bites his lip, struggling to readjust his thought process, trying to figure out when exactly hoseok and namjoon had left, but jin’s gentle touch on his face breaks the train of thought.
“jeongguk-ah?”
“y- yeah,” jeongguk rasps, his voice sounding a lot more unsteady than he wanted it to. “yes, hyung. when did you…?”
“i got back a few hours ago.” jin sits on the bed and pulls him into his waiting arms once he’s upright, holding him as namjoon and yoongi had both done earlier. “hey. we love you, you know that?”
“yes, hyung,” he says, his voice muffled by jin’s sweatshirt.
“gukkie, we really love you. we were so worried when…” seokjin’s voice trails off and it’s only by the shuddering of his frame that jeongguk knows he’s trying not to cry. the arms around him tighten, but it’s not claustrophobic, or too much. it’s grounding. he's missed this.
“can we talk to you for a little bit? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
he just nods, sinking further into the safe cocoon of jin’s arms. he wonders who we means. if it’s all of them that have to bear witness to this.
a minute later, though, it’s just yoongi who appears in the doorway. he sinks onto the bed next to them and brushes his hand across jeongguk’s back.
“hey. did you sleep well?”
“yeah, hyungs. i’m really sorry.”
“don’t apologize,” yoongi says immediately, his voice gravelly and resolute. “you have nothing to apologize for. not ever.”
“if anyone should be apologizing,” jin says, somber, “it’s us. we should have known something was wrong when you stopped replying.”
“no, that’s… no. i think i should have called before that,” jeongguk admits quietly, closing his eyes. “i didn’t realize how bad it was until... ‘till i…”
yoongi hums. he, maybe more than any of them, knows the feeling in jeongguk’s chest. knows why it’s so hard for the words to come out. his voice is a little quieter than before. “you’ve been feeling like this for a while, guk?”
jeongguk nods slowly.
“since we left?”
“yeah.”
“earlier than that?”
yes, hyungs, he wants to say. there’s this weight in my chest. i think it’s been there for weeks and weeks and i can’t shake it.
it’s right then that the tears come back, slowly leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and he’s drained of all energy again.
“i thought... maybe i needed some time to myself? that i just needed to be in my own head for a while, some time, and it would go away 'cause exams are over. but hyungs...” his voice breaks, and seokjin’s arms are suddenly all that’s keeping him up. “i don’t know what happened. everything’s been so numb, i can’t remember when it began.”
yoongi leans his head against jeongguk’s shoulder, murmuring to him softly, as jin combs his fingers through his hair. “ah, guk-ah, i’m sorry we didn’t know. i’m so sorry we weren’t here.”
“not your fault,” he exhales in a whisper, trying to rid himself of the twinge in his chest. “hyung, i just… i don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t come home.” the mumble is almost too quiet to hear.
“we’re just glad you’re okay, kid,” yoongi says. “i’m proud of you, yeah? for everything.”
jeongguk lets out a weak, hollow laugh, and averts his gaze. “what? i should have been able to take care of myself. this is embarrassing, i’m-"
“there’s nothing about this that you should be ashamed of,” jin cuts in, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. “you did fine, jeonggukie. just let us help now, okay?”
he nods again, lets the tears course down his cheeks. lets their presence ground him until his breaths come out a little steadier. when he’s finally able to open his eyes again, he takes a deep breath. “um. where is everyone?”
“namjoon and hobi are in the kitchen. tae and jiminie’s flight was delayed, but they’ll be here in the morning.”
“did you, uh… they know?”
“yeah, baby,” jin says, wiping the last of the tears from his face before they can fully dry. “they love you, too, you know. we all just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“do you want to try to eat something?” yoongi asks, glancing at his watch. “i can grab some food, if you need.”
“no, hyung, it’s okay. i should get up...” jeongguk’s voice trails off, and he’s suddenly a bit more self-conscious than before. his voice comes out a lot quieter. “thank you, for…”
jin runs his fingers jeongguk’s hair affectionately and pulls him upright. “yah, you brat,” he says, though there isn’t a hint of anything other than unconditional love in his voice, “that’s what we’re here for. come on, gukkie. your other hyungs have missed you, too.”
//
hoseok is waiting in the middle of the hallway, casually leaning up against the wall as he scrolls through his phone, but his face breaks into an affectionate grin at the sight of them. jin gives jeongguk’s shoulders a squeeze before he and yoongi continue into the living room, giving them a few moments alone.
“hey, hyung,” jeongguk says, leaning into his open arms.
“you look like you’re feeling better,” hoseok says. the relief is evident in his voice, but when he pulls back a little, his eyes are tinged with worry. “guk, i’m sorry you’ve been feeling so… aish. i hope you know that we’re here for you.”
“i know,” he replies softly. he ducks his head, but hoseok is quick to tilt his chin back up, forcing him to meet his suddenly intense gaze.
“jeongguk-ah, you know i’d do anything in the world for you, right? we all would.”
jeongguk stills, not doubting the seriousness in his voice for a single second, and answers in a whisper. “yes, hyung.”
hoseok’s sunny smile returns, and after a few seconds he wraps an arm around him, leading him down the hall. “good. i missed you this past week, you know that? i was so bored at home without my little jeonggukie to cuddle with.”
he mutters a protest under his breath out of sheer habit, but doesn’t make any move to escape the embrace, and hoseok lets out a fond, musical laugh. the sound is as refreshing as a spring day, as light as a ray of sun, and it’s enough to help lighten the weight in his chest a little bit more.
as they step into the living room, jeongguk can hear the light chatter of the other three from the kitchen, and feels more at home than he has the entire week.