Chapter Text
✧ Jungkook ✧
Jungkook’s eyes were so close to the computer screen he could count the retina-burning pixels.
Sure, he could’ve spent his Friday evening at a concert with his friends, or out with a few classmates he barely knew, or maybe at some random bar, anything to procrastinate writing his essay.
He could’ve procrastinated in a fun way, but somehow, Jungkook’s brain told him that spending his free night typing out the same sentence and hitting delete over and over again was more productive than going out and getting drunk to lighten the load on his shoulders.
He hit backspace again, and then highlighted everything he’d written tonight and jabbed at the delete key. Utter garbage.
He sighed and closed his eyes to hold back tears. Stress crying. How pathetic of him. He would’ve thought that’d been beaten out of him years ago.
There was no one in the apartment tonight to witness him, though, so the tear just slipped out. Just one, he allowed himself.
Jimin had been right. Jungkook should’ve just gone to the stupid concert with him and Taehyung, taken a night off, let loose, not think about school for a few moments.
“You’re not gonna get any work done anyway, Kookie.” He could hear Jimin’s chastising voice ringing in his head, having been on a loop for the past hour as he attempted to produce a single sentence on his laptop.
To be fair, though he much preferred the agonizing internal debate of whether or not he was wasting his life as an exchange student in California than screaming at the ridiculous pop group Jimin and Taehyung were seeing right this very moment.
Besides, he heard enough of that group whenever those two got drunk and blasted the infernal music from the cheap speakers in their living room. He could just feel his education withering away with every lyric out of those songs.
Unfortunately for him, it was two against one, so he resigned himself to letting them shuffle play the newest album whenever they so desired. And because he loved them, he guessed.
Besides, it was because of them Jungkook had even managed to live in San Diego for a single exchange year, studying business management. Both of them eagerly signed up once they heard Jungkook wanted to travel, and they’d quickly pooled their resources together to settle on a tiny but livable apartment, albeit quite a long way from the university. A bit of support from their parents, and part-time jobs for them all, and they were just barely getting by. Life was nice.
Jungkook had only settled for California since it was the only state his school offered. His preferred American state had been Hawaii, dreaming of living alone on an island away from everyone. And he had an old, faded and worn postcard on his bulletin board of the exotic island that he’d held onto since his childhood to prove that. But California was close enough, he supposed.
Jungkook closed out of his document, setting some of his own music on low and stretching his arms out, feeling his bones crack in relief. His stomach growled in hunger, since Jungkook refused himself any food until he’d reached an essay goal. A traditional punishment from his childhood he found difficult to let go of, although it only worked when he was alone. Otherwise Jimin and Taehyung would force feed him.
He’d known Jimin and Taehyung for years, since they were classmates in high school, but that was only distantly. After they discovered they’d all been accepted into the same university, Jungkook grew much closer to the two of them, and it only took mere months before they knew far too much about each other. This included, of course, Jimin and Taehyung’s shared idolization of BTS, a boy group trio that was currently touring every city on the planet it seemed, including this one.
The screaming and panic that ensued when Jimin tried to get ahold of prime tickets while Taehyung was taking a makeup test…it was a nightmare Jungkook wasn’t intent on reliving.
Although now, when his phone flashed with Snapchat notifications from them both, and he knew it contained those two documenting the best experience of their lives…He couldn’t hide his yearning to be standing there with them, shouting out stupid cheesy pop song lyrics until he lost his voice. He hadn’t been to a concert in years, not since studies took over his life.
Jungkook shut his laptop, cutting off the music and eliminating the possibility of working anymore. He’d rather listen to a whole BTS album then read the words corporate social responsibility again.
The apartment was dead quiet, yet he could hear the ghosts of their songs echoing through the tiny living room, beats bouncing off thin walls.
He opened a window. Southern California was hot, he’d been told this, but he didn’t know it’d still be hot in late fall. There was the slightest hint of seaside breeze, but it didn’t cool him.
He crossed his arms, leaning on the window sill, gazing at the evening sky. The sun’s rays smudged the yellow and pink clouds on the horizon, billowing like waves. While stars had begun twinkling, the moon was unfairly absent. A shame. Jungkook wanted to paint the view he had, maybe from the park nearby, but he’d yet to time having a pretty night sky with the motivation to paint. He hadn’t had much motivation to paint at all, in these last few months. He could sketch, but his wrist ached from typing the same sentence over and over again.
No matter. Jungkook was content just staring out the window, breathing in hot, summery air, listening to the sounds of a city starting to sleep.
His phone hummed again.
He honestly should’ve gone to the stupid concert. He could only imagine what Jimin or Taehyung had sent him now. A video of them laughing probably, arms around each other, swaying to one of the heartbreak ballads or headbanging to some empty empowerment song.
Jungkook liked the quiet, liked being alone at the apartment. It gave his mind time to rest, and he liked what little view he had, even though the old view in his home country called to him, begging him to return to familiarity, to what made sense.
But this was the smart choice, the one that could ensure him a good life, a life he was in control of. Did it fill his nights with insomnia and every other waking moment with depression for the path he’d chosen to take? Yes, but wasn’t that the college experience? He thought so.
Jungkook resisted the urge to stare directly into the sinking sun. If he went blind, he wouldn’t have to read about corporate responsibility.
Audio books, though, another voice in his head whispered, because every time Jungkook’s mind produced a single thought some another voice had to argue against it.
He checked his phone, tapping through his new Snapchat notifications and finding that for the first time, neither Jimin’s nor Taehyung’s smile or laugh was infectious. In fact, for every video, he could feel his own lips sinking into a frown.
He glanced at the time. Half past nine. He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for another five hours, but if he attempted to type another letter on his laptop, he’d probably smash the keyboard. He considered doing anything entertaining to pass the time, but the procrastination would only exacerbate his feelings of worthlessness.
This meant another night of lying on his bed, sleepless for hours and wasting his life on his phone while daydreaming about an alternate self who was productive and motivated.
Sometimes doing absolutely nothing and hating yourself for it was more enjoyable.
It was his routine, anyway.
☽ Yoongi ☾
“No, but seriously, do you think the fans will be that upset if I just tripped on this staircase and died?”
“Yes,” Namjoon answered seriously. “And if you ask me that again I’m going to smack you.”
Yoongi scoffed. “You try that, and you won’t have a hand tomorrow.”
At that moment, the crew approached them, with towels to dab away their sweat, electric fans, and hands to remove the mics and wires taped to their stage outfits.
“That was a good crowd,” Hoseok said, his smile being the only one that hadn’t faded the instant they left the stage. He took off his glitter blazer and handed it to one of the costume assistants. “Knew a lot of Korean words.”
Yoongi shrugged, honestly not giving a shit what the crowd sang back at him. The lyrics weren’t what he wanted to hear from their mouths, much less his own.
“How many more shows in North America?” Yoongi asked, to no one in particular.
“Fourteen,” Namjoon said, running a hand through his dampened, bright orange hair, still panting from the last song’s choreography. “And then we go to South America for three shows, and then to Europe, and then we’re done.”
“And you’re sure, about that tripping and death thing?” Yoongi asked again, knowing none of the American crew members would understand.
Namjoon just glared at him, rolling his eyes. For some reason, the whole tripping on stairs and almost dying thing was still a sensitive subject for Namjoon and Hoseok. Yoongi didn’t feel anything about it anymore.
The dismantling of their stage personas, as Yoongi privately considered it as, took about half an hour, and then they had a quick meeting with their manager in case any news had broken since the two hours they’d been stuck on stage.
“Early rehearsal tomorrow,” she said, her eyes glued to her phone. As always. “Your choreographer saw some consistent dance mistakes happening later in the show, says he wants to work more on your stamina.”
Yoongi bit back a snide remark.
“Also, we’re getting some more good tour reviews, but they’re never happy with your vocals on the ballads, so after the tour we’re gonna schedule some more vocal lessons.”
Yoongi sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead, trying to put enough pressure on his headache for it to evaporate. They were already booked for recording in the studio after this leg of the tour, just so the next album would be primed for the summer. But honestly, Yoongi never really expected a break after tour. Maybe a day off, if they got really lucky.
The after-concert breakdown lasted until about one in the morning, and then the three of them were free to board the tour bus, next destination in some sweltering state nearby.
“Management wants us to walk around the city tomorrow, see some fans after the album signing and photo ops,” Namjoon said, reading a text from his phone, while the bus roared to life. “We gotta get up at five for styling and record the radio interview at six-thirty and then we go out for the fans.”
Yoongi honestly did not know if he could maintain his persona for another damn day. His head was pounding from the concert; two hours of screaming and bass boosted pop songs tended to do that, especially when it became a routine every night for six months.
“Well,” Hoseok sighed. “At least we get Christmas break in two months.”
Namjoon tsked. “We’re booked in for a recording session day before and after.”
Yoongi leaned back on the couch in the back of the bus, a cramped corner with a loaded mini fridge, a flat screen and candy wrappers littering the floor that essentially made up a second carpet, along with a few empty beer cans. Mostly the result of their back up dancers and Hoseok, who loved a party after almost every show.
Yoongi hadn’t eaten much these past few days anyway. He never really did on tour. Anything as much as an apple before he went on and he’d get a stitch in his side. This meant, of course, that dancing and singing under bright and hot stage lights for two hours while being analyzed by fifty thousand pairs of eyes made him want to pass out after every song. He tended to rationalize this by reinforcing the fact that this was the life he’d dreamed about since he was a kid.
It wasn’t. But the lie kept him from tuck-and-rolling off the tour bus at night and just leaving everything behind. That and the fact that Namjoon would cry and Hoseok would drink a little more than he already did. And that his manager would hunt him down relentlessly.
“Four hours of sleep, if we fall asleep right now,” Yoongi said quietly, rocking side to side as the bus whisked them away through the dark night.
“You wanna take a pill?” Hoseok asked.
Yoongi shook his head. “I won’t make it through the damn interview tomorrow if I do.”
“We can take the burden tomorrow, hyung,” Hoseok mumbled and yawned. “Just be prepped for the fans, and Namjoon and I can deal with whatever shit they ask us.”
Yoongi muttered a soft thanks under his breath, watching Hoseok curl up on the couch, not even bothering to take the few steps to his bunk bed. Namjoon also slumped back, snuggling into his hoodie.
The driving made him carsick, despite having nothing but an energy drink and some crackers in his system, and he could still hear the synthesized drum banging from one of their last songs hammering in his skull. Closing his eyes only made the pain louder. And all the fresh food and candy on the table looked revolting.
He wrapped his arms around himself, slipping his arms into his hoodie sleeves and kicking his feet up onto the couch. He estimated he’d get three hours of sleep if he actually focused. This never ended up happening, of course, and was the reason for the daily energy drink for breakfast
So, he rocked with the bus, spending every moment of the trip awake and silently begging for one day of peace.