Chapter Text
Seokjin knew they were all broken. Society’s trash, the underdogs, the losers. They all had problems, had no real functional relatives to speak of, and all lived by doing odd jobs here and there. The only ones who had something close to a stable job were himself and Namjoon, who worked all they could at the gas station.
But he thought maybe they could get through it all because they had one another. They were his family. Something closer than any blood relations could ever have. The one time Taehyung had decided to see his real family he’d come even more broken. None of them had asked questions. No one would miss Taehyung’s ass of a father, anyway.
The first to go was Hoseok. Seokjin should have been more careful, and should’ve taken more notice when Hoseok told him that he was going out. He had seemed spacey – Seokjin had just been so overwhelmed with trying to pry Jungkook and Yoongi apart that he hadn’t processed. Until hours later when he got a call.
Hoseok? Where are you? Are you coming home for dinner?
Hello? Uh…
The person on the other line had sounded surprised, like they hadn’t expected whatever Seokjin had said.
This is the hospital. We called this number because it was the only one on the emergency contact list.
Seokjin had ran to the hospital to find Hoseok dead. Drug overdose, they told him, and Seokjin had clutched onto him and sobbed for hours. They’d given him Hoseok’s phone and Seokjin had cried more when he read what he’d been saved as – Most Important.
Jimin went after that. Jimin had seemed okay. Jimin had always had a smile reserved for him, no matter what. Seokjin had never thought he’d lose Jimin, who’d always squeezed his hand and had a smile ready for him even after Hoseok died.
Hyung, you’re wearing yourself thin. Leave some of the chores to me.
…You know how much I appreciate you, right?
Yeah, well.. I appreciate you, too.
But one day Seokjin had gone grocery shopping and had come home to the bathroom flooding. He’d pulled Jimin from out of the tub but it’d been too late even as he ran Jimin to the hospital, sobbing and clutching at his cold, clammy hands. To make it worse, Jungkook had been right there when Seokjin had screamed and sobbed and pulled Jimin’s limp body from the tub.
He’d tried to keep an eye on Jungkook after that, but Jungkook always found ways to slip away. Seokjin had dreaded every single day until Jungkook trudged back home, looking like he’d picked a fight with people he couldn’t win. Seokjin chided him for getting hurt but not much else.
Jungkook, please take care of yourself. You know it hurts me when you come home like this.
You’re not my mom, hyung. Don’t try to act like one.
Jungkook would refuse to say anything else and Seokjin would just sit on the floor carefully patching him up. Seokjin wanted to say he just couldn’t have kept up with Jungkook. He had so much on his hands. Taehyung was never going to recover from the murder, Namjoon was trying to cope with the death of his best friend, and Yoongi’s anger seemed to grow every day. He had so much that he was trying to juggle.
It wasn’t an excuse and he knew it. He knew the moment he got the call from Jungkook.
Hello?
Huh? Is this not Jeon Jungkook’s mother? We called the emergency contact listed as his mother.
Jungkook had gotten hit by a car. Stepped in front of one. Seokjin had sobbed clutching his phone. After all the snide remarks, Jungkook had saved him as Mom. It’d torn Seokjin’s heart to shreds.
After that he’d gotten sick, and hadn’t even had time to take care of himself. He was cooking with Namjoon’s big coat around his shoulders, covering his mouth with a mask because he didn’t want anyone else getting sick. Yoongi would yell at him, tell him go the fuck to bed and he knew Yoongi only meant the best but he couldn’t handle it. Not then. So he’d yelled back at Yoongi and then promptly passed out.
When he’d come to, Namjoon had been replacing the cool towel on his head, crying and apologizing and squeezing Seokjin’s hand, and Yoongi had gone missing.
Namjoon had tried to take care of both him and Taehyung after that. He wanted to take Seokjin to the hospital, but Seokjin shook his head and clutched on.
Don’t leave me, Namjoon, please.
I’m not going anywhere, hyung, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.
Namjoon died after that. Seokjin had been too sick to do much and he still blamed himself, like he did with all the other deaths. Namjoon had left a note on the bathroom mirror, and by the time Seokjin had gone running, fever or not, the gas station had already gone up in flames. The police called it an accident from a stray cigarette. Seokjin knew it wasn’t.
Yoongi went afterward. Seokjin had gotten the call from Yoongi a week after Namjoon died, and he’d picked up in tears, praying desperately that this wasn’t another call from the hospital.
I’m sorry, hyung.
Yoongi, Namjoon’s gone, please, it’s just you and me and Taehyung, please come back-
I’m sorry. I loved you most and I-I’m just sorry.
Yoongi, where are you? Please don’t do this, please, please don’t do this.
Yoongi had hung up, and the next time the phone rang from Yoongi, Seokjin couldn’t get himself to pick up. He let it ring twice, three times, four times, until he couldn’t ignore it anymore and picked it up on the 5th try. He felt numb as the hospital told him the hotel had burned down, and Yoongi in it.
Taehyung seemed to pick himself up after that, and they’d gone to the beach that they’d always gone as all 7 of them. Taehyung had seemed okay, smiling and joking around with him like always. They’d spent the night in their truck, curled up in the back seat sharing a blanket. Taehyung had snuggled into his side, pressed kisses all over Seokjin’s cheeks and told him everything was going to be all right.
Seokjin had believed it. He’d believed it even when Taehyung had climbed on top, and he’d believed it with desperation even when Taehyung jumped.
But now everyone that he cared about was gone. He clutched at the floor of their little haven and cried until he passed out.
When he opened his eyes again he found himself not on the floor but on a bed. The room smelled heavily of white lilies and he frowned, sitting up. He wasn’t even in the clothes he’d fallen asleep in but a white button up and black shorts. Where were his shoes?
“Finally,” a voice said, and Seokjin looked up.
To find himself. “What the-“
“Do not panic. I know it is strange.”
His exact mirror image was talking to him. Wearing the same weird clothes he was. “I’m dreaming,” Seokjin muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t take any of Hoseok’s drugs..” He’d considered it. Considered overdosing just like Hoseok had, but he’d fallen asleep from exhaustion before he could.
“You are not dreaming,” not-Seokjin said, holding up his hand. He was holding a blue butterfly. “I am not you. Obviously. My name is Psyche. Goddess of souls.” Seokjin blinked and scooted back on the bed when not-Seokjin-Psyche smiled at him. Something about the smile was off-putting. It wasn’t anything like he’d seen on his own face, that was for sure. “I guard souls. I cannot appear to you in my form – no god or goddess can. I chose the one that would upset you the least. I considered your friends but did not think it wise.” Psyche snapped her fingers and another butterfly came to rest on her hands, and another, until there were 6 resting on her arm. “Your friends.”
Seokjin flinched. “My friends…”
“Your family, perhaps you would like to call them.” Psyche smiled and Seokjin shivered. “So much desperation and misery from such a small group of people. So much sadness. All around.” She lifted her finger and the butterfly flapped its wings and flew to Seokjin, slowly flapping its wings to stay aloft until Seokjin cupped his hands to it.
He took in a shuddered breath. “It’s Hoseok.”
“Good. You recognize them.” Psyche looked pleased. “Not many people can, even if they are their loved ones. I am here to make you an offer. I do not want miserable souls to guard. I have enough, with all this war and conflict-“ She shuddered. “I wish I could do something for them but I cannot. But this, I can. I will give you a chance to save them all.”
Seokjin flinched. “..What?”
“I know you regret what you could have done. You think if only I were there a little earlier. Just a little earlier. I will send you to these instances so you can prevent these deaths.” Psyche lifted her hand and the butterfly flapped its wings out of Seokjin’s hands. “In exchange, you will cease to exist.”
Seokjin laughed emptily. “You… That’s what I figured you’d say. Let’s say I believe this isn’t a dream and you’ll actually send me back in time. Then you’ll kill me?”
“You will not die.” Psyche smiled. “You will merely cease to exist. I will collect your soul as well as all the memories of you. That will be the payment. Your existence as well as your soul. An exchange for 6.” Psyche held out her hand and Seokjin stared. “Well?”
Seokjin didn’t hesitate taking it.
--
Seokjin found himself on a bridge back in his hoodie and jeans. He looked around confused, until he realized where he was – the bridge where Hoseok had been found dead. His heart pounded in his chest and he started running across the bridge to the other end. He kept looking around for the familiar face until he caught Hoseok on the other side. “Fuck,” he whispered, watching Hoseok stagger. There were so many cars on the bridge, but… “Sorry!” He yelled, when the car screeched to a halt and beeped. He ran across, wincing as cars beeped and drivers spewed curses at him. “Sorry, sorry!”
Hoseok turned to his direction and his eyes widened when he saw Seokjin. Seokjin jumped the railing separating the walkway and the traffic lanes. “Hyung, what…”
“Hoseok, how much drugs did you take?” Seokjin demanded, and then shook his head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Let’s get you to the hospital, okay?” He tried to not let his hands shake too much as he held Hoseok up with one arm under his shoulders. He rattled off the bridge name to 911 and carefully let Hoseok down onto the pavement.
Hoseok blinked up at him, looking disoriented. Seokjin snapped his fingers in front of Hoseok’s eyes and Hoseok blinked. “Hyung, how did you find me?”
“Because I’m me and you’re you.” Seokjin sobbed, clutching Hoseok to his chest. “You guys cause me so much heartbreak I don’t even know why I love you guys. Hang on, Hoseok, you’re gonna be okay.”
“I feel kind of sick,” Hoseok groaned, his head thumping against Seokjin’s chest. Seokjin sobbed and wondered if that was supposed to be a joke, but he laughed through his tears anyway. Hoseok threw up on his stomach but Seokjin just clutched him tighter.
Seokjin spent the two or so hours that Hoseok spent sleeping after getting his stomach pumped just holding his hand and watching Hoseok sleep. He remembered that was all he did when they first discovered the discarded container. The others had curled up on the sleeping bags on the dirty floor, sleeping like the dead for the first time in forever, and he’d just stayed up, half expecting the police to chase them out. But the police hadn’t. Not that day, not that week, not that month, not that year. And they’d built it, little by little, into their home.
“What are you smiling at?”
“Hoseok!” Seokjin squeezed Hoseok’s hand so hard Hoseok winced. “How are you feeling?”
Hoseok winced as he sat up and rubbed his chest. “Like someone shoved a tube down my throat.” Seokjin gave him a look at Hoseok grinned at him. “I’m okay. Let’s get me signed out. I wanna go home and sleep.”
Seokjin and Hoseok avoided the topic of Hoseok’s overdose until Hoseok discharged himself – against some of the nurse’s protests – and they made their way back home. “Hoseok.” Seokjin said carefully, carefully tugging on Hoseok’s wrist. “Are we going to talk about it?”
Hoseok didn’t look at him and kept walking, so Seokjin bit the inside of his cheeks and hurried to catch up. Seokjin kept glancing at Hoseok in hopes he’d talk, and Hoseok sighed. “Hyung, we’re all messed up. You maybe the most out of all of us. That wasn’t supposed to sound mean.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and then after a moment took it back out to take Seokjin’s hand. “You’re so busy trying to take care of all of us that you don’t even have time to take a break and think about yourself. I don’t know how you do it.” He tugged Seokjin closer and kicked a stray pebble. “I just got… so low. You know. Depression and all that. I just couldn’t deal with it. I looked at myself in the mirror and just. Just didn’t want to deal with anything else. I didn’t want to see you because I wanted to die and… if I saw you I’d doubt myself. So I left, but you found me again. I seriously thought you were an angel or something.”
“Hoseok.”
“I’m serious. An angel that was jumping through cars.” Hoseok grinned at Seokjin and Seokjin hit his arm. “I dunno, hyung. I saw you and – I just didn’t want to die anymore. Which was what I figured would happen, anyway. My family threw me out when they figured out I had a drug problem and a mental problem, but you took my hand and never let go since. I mean, not just you. All 6 of you. But especially you.” Hoseok squeezed his hand. “I’m not okay. Not just like that.”
Seokjin squeezed his hand. “But you’ll try, right?”
Hoseok smiled and Seokjin thought it was equal parts sad and happy. “Yeah. I’ll run until I can’t tell if I’m sweating or crying. I’m just… really tired right now.” He pulled the door to the container open. “I need a nap. And you’ve got vomit on your shirt, hyung. You need to change.”
“Yeah.” Seokjin bit his lips at the empty room. “I’ll be right here.”
Hoseok nodded and flopped down onto the couch and was asleep in moments. Seokjin watched him for a moment before the container lights dimmed. “One down,” Psyche said, leaning over the couch to watch Hoseok sleep. There were only 5 butterflies left on her arm. “If you’re ready, I’ll send you to the next one.”
Seokjin carefully slid Hoseok’s bangs out of his eyes and pressed his lips against his forehead. “Yeah. Send me to Jimin.”
--
Seokjin didn’t bother taking in his surroundings – he yanked the bathroom door open and grabbed Jimin from under the water and yanked him out. Not breathing, Seokjin thought, in panic, and he slammed his hands against Jimin’s chest, trying to remember what people had done on TV. He braced his hands at the bottom of Jimin’s ribcage and shoved as hard as he could, over and over until Jimin coughed and twisted, throwing up water all over the bathroom floor. “Jimin!” Seokjin whispered, clutching Jimin closer as Jimin coughed painfully and tried to push him away. “It’s – it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
Seokjin looked up – no Jungkook. At least that was one trauma averted, he thought desperately, holding Jimin as he convulsed and hacked up the water in his lungs. It couldn’t have taken long but Seokjin thought forever might have passed until Jimin fell limp in his arms, breathing hard.
He realized Jimin was shivering. “Are you cold? Wait, don’t answer that. Of course you are. Come on, Jimin.” Seokjin shut off the water and tugged the towel off the rack. He pulled it tightly around Jimin and got up to ran to the stack of dry towels on the side to wrap more around Jimin.
“How about you?” Jimin asked, voice hoarse.
“Me?”
“You’re soaked.”
“I’m fine.” Seokjin shook his head. “Worry about yourself.” Jimin said nothing when Seokjin tugged him closer and hugged him tightly. “If you can, let’s get out of the bathroom and get you under some blankets.”
Jimin nodded and said nothing for a while, resting his head against Seokjin’s shoulder. Seokjin realized the water starting to soak through his shirt wasn’t from Jimin’s hair but from Jimin crying. He bit his lip and held Jimin tighter, carefully hoisted him up and coaxed him to change into dry clothes before letting him down on the mattress in the living room and pulling thick blankets over him. “You’re going to catch a cold,” Seokjin sighed, carefully lifting Jimin’s head so he could place a towel under his wet hair.
Jimin sighed in response and hugged the blanket close to him. Seokjin settled next to him, carefully carding his fingers through Jimin’s orange hair. “You aren’t going to say anything?”
“About?”
“Me trying to kill myself.”
Seokjin winced and bit his lip. “Only if you want to talk about it.”
Jimin nodded and said nothing, sighing and pressing his head against Seokjin’s hand. “My mom used to do this when I was sick. You know. Before they all died.”
“Jimin.”
“I never told you guys. I know you guys know I fought with them and ran away and then heard they died, but… They died looking for me. It was raining and I guess my parents were worried. So they took my little brother with them in the car and.. the car slipped and fell right into the river. They all died. Today’s two years and with Hoseok-hyung gone, I just – just thought …” Jimin’s voice broke. “I don’t know what I thought.”
Seokjin swallowed thickly. “You miss your family.”
“I do.” Jimin sobbed, pulling Seokjin’s hand down to press his cheek to Seokjin’s palm. “God, you’re so warm. You’re family, too, and I just - ” Jimin scooted over and patted the space next to him, so Seokjin slid under the blankets. Jimin linked their fingers together. “I’m sorry, hyung.”
“You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”
“No, not – I mean. That too.” Jimin laughed waterily. “Of course that’s what you’d care about. But I meant me talking about my family. Everyone else came from someplace broken and I – I always didn’t know how to talk about missing mine.”
Seokjin sighed and squeezed Jimin’s hands. “Oh, Jimin. You know all of us would understand. Of course you miss them. You should’ve talked to us. To me. We’d all understand. We’re… we’re family, Jimin, aren’t we?”
Jimin laughed again and this time it was less sad. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re family. I love you guys. I love you. That’s the only thing I can do anyway. Love you guys. Mom,” he teased lightly, and then his eyes softened. “You remind me of my mom. And Kookie reminds me of my little brother. I know he gets annoyed but… I can’t help it.”
Seokjin smiled. “He doesn’t get annoyed. You know he enjoys your attention.” Jimin laughed and pressed his forehead to Seokjin’s. “Don’t leave us, Jimin.”
Jimin closed his eyes and sighed. “..Yeah.” He squeezed Seokjin’s hands again. “I’m so tired. You’ll stay, right? Be here when I wake up?”
Seokjin felt his throat constrict. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be right here.” Jimin nodded and whispered good before his breathing evened. Seokjin waited even after the lights dimmed just to watch Jimin sleep peacefully. He squeezed Jimin’s hands before carefully undoing their hold and pressing his lips to Jimin’s forehead. “I thought I saved Hoseok.”
Psyche nodded. “You did. The events won’t apply until you’ve saved all of them.” She nodded to Hoseok sleeping on the couch. Two out of six. He’d bring them all back here. “I believe the youngest one is next. Ready?”
--
A dim street. Two men snickering as they walked down the street, talking about the dumb kid that they’d just beat up. Seokjin gripped his fists and he had half a mind to start on them but that wasn’t the point. He ran past them and tried to remember the street that Jungkook had been hit on.
He didn’t need to – he saw Jungkook limping across the street and stopping in the middle of it, dully staring at the truck that was moving too fast. “Jungkook!” He screeched, running as fast as his legs would take him. Had he spent too long thinking about taking on the two men? Was he going to be too late again? He dived, hands outstretched to push Jungkook.
His hands collided and he thought good he’s out of the way and blinked at the headlights coming his way. He didn’t have a time to realize what was happening before hands grabbed him and yanked him out of the way, throwing him across the asphalt. The truck beeped loudly and the driver yelled curses at them as he drove away, and Seokjin blinked up at the night sky. “What-“
“Hyung, what the fuck!” Jungkook screamed, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him up onto his feet. “What the fuck were you thinking? You could’ve died – holy shit, you’re bleeding.” Jungkook grabbed his arm and Seokjin realized it was injured. His forearm was scraped from wrist to elbow and blood was dripping onto his shirt.
But Seokjin couldn’t even feel the pain. “Me?! Jungkook, what the hell were you doing? You were – you were deliberately standing in front of that car. If I hadn’t come by, then – then you –“ He let his arms drop to his sides and he hung his head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. His shoulders started shaking as he tried to blink as fast as he could to keep himself from crying.
Jungkook’s face twisted into something Seokjin couldn’t read and Jungkook tugged him off the streets (Seokjin hadn’t even realized they were still standing in the middle of it) and onto one of the benches on the sidewalk. “Namjoon-hyung is going to kill me for this,” Jungkook muttered, examining the scrape on Seokjin’s arm. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“Stop; it doesn’t hurt.” Seokjin tried to yank his arm back but Jungkook gripped harder. “Jungkook, that’s not – that’s not the fucking issue right now!” He snapped, shoving Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook didn’t even flinch and Seokjin scowled. Sometimes he forgot Jungkook was the strongest one out of all of them.
Jungkook yanked Seokjin back up and Seokjin had no choice but to be dragged along. Jungkook shoved the door open to the nearest pharmacy and then immediately looked lost at the wall of disinfectant. He turned to Seokjin and Seokjin couldn’t help but laugh exasperatedly. “We always get this one.” Seokjin picked out a small bottle. When Jungkook picked up bandaids, Seokjin shook his head. “No, that’s not going to work. Unless you want me the adhesive to stick to the edge of the cut and tear it back open.”
Jungkook paused and looked like he wanted to say something but sighed and picked up sterilized gauze and bandages instead. The pharmacist eyed the way Jungkook was holding Seokjin’s hand but said nothing. Seokjin figured it might have had something to do with how Jungkook was glaring at him.
Seokjin hissed when Jungkook poured the disinfectant on his arm. It stung and the scrape was worse than he’d thought, but he stayed still for Jungkook to fumble with bandaging it. “Jungkook,” Seokjin whispered, bringing up the arm Jungkook wasn’t busy trying to figure out to cup Jungkook’s cheek. “Can we talk?”
Jungkook scowled at Seokjin’s arm. “There’s nothing to talk about. I picked a fight with thugs, lost, and then felt like shit.”
“So you tried to kill yourself?” Seokjin tried to steady his voice but failed miserably. Jungkook sighed and pulled the gauze tight. “Kookie.”
“It wasn’t just that. We’ve just lost Hoseok-hyung, and then Jimin-hyung. Yoongi-hyung is being a fucking bastard, Taehyung-hyung still can’t get his head on straight, and Namjoon-hyung’s starting to lose it now, too. And you just look so overwhelmed by all this shit and – I dunno. I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I was thinking but I figured if I was gone it’d be one less thing you’d have to worry about and I just felt like trash. It’s okay if I get hurt.”
“What?” Seokjin whispered, voice cracking miserably. Jungkook looked like he’d bit down on a bug. “Jungkook, how – how could you even think – did you actually think that would make things better?”
Jungkook wrapped the bandages haphazardly around Seokjin’s arm. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world but it would hold. “I don’t know, okay? Fuck, I’m always being a fucking brat and you’re the closest thing to a real mom I’ve ever had because for sure as fuck my drug-shooting bitch of a birth mom wasn’t any of that and –“ Jungkook hung his head and clutched onto Seokjin’s fingers. “How do you deal with me?”
Seokjin threw Jungkook’s hand off and hugged him as tight as he could. “Because I love you, you little brat.” Jungkook tried to sound offended, shaking his shoulders like he wanted to shake Seokjin off, but Seokjin clung on tighter and Jungkook paused before wrapping his arms around Seokjin’s waist, clutching fists into the back of Seokjin’s shirt. “You’re such a little brat.” Seokjin sniffled. “If you do that again I’m going to kill you.”
“I’d already be dead,” Jungkook pointed out, voice muffled on Seokjin’s shoulder. Seokjin sniffled and rested his head against Jungkook’s shoulder and Jungkook shifted to hold Seokjin closer. It’d somehow started with Seokjin holding Jungkook and had transitioned into Jungkook holding Seokjin. “Hyung, let’s go home.”
“Yeah.”
Jungkook stretched out in the loveseat, legs hanging off the side and Seokjin pulled a fleece blanket over him. “What would we do without you, hyung?” Jungkook mumbled, eyes sliding shut. “Even at the pharmacy you just took care of everything.” He took Seokjin’s hand and hung onto it even as he slid into sleep. Seokjin sighed and bent to press his lips against Jungkook’s mop of hair, tucking the fleece blankets around Jungkook.
Hoseok on the couch, Jimin on the mattress, and Jungkook on the loveseat. “Halfway there,” Psyche hummed, holding a blue butterfly on her index finger.
--
Namjoon wasn’t at the gas station, and Seokjin looked wildly around wondering if Psyche had messed up. But even he remembered where Namjoon had caused the explosion. But the gas station was empty.
“..Hyung? What are you doing here?”
Seokjin turned so fast he lost balance and strong hands grabbed his arms. “Namjoon. I – I got your message so-“
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Namjoon sighed, steadying him before running a hand through his hair. “Wait, what the fuck happened to your arm?!” He grabbed Seokjin’s arm and Seokjin realized the injury from the encounter with Jungkook had carried over. “When did – you were sick in bed. How did this even happen?” Namjoon tore the uneven bandages and the gauze off, raising Seokjin’s arm to his eyes. “Hyung.”
“I rolled on the asphalt.” Seokjin muttered, tugging his arm back. “And J-“ He stopped himself. Jungkook being saved wouldn’t have applied yet. “And wrapped it up because I thought you’d… hate it.”
Namjoon sighed and carefully let Seokjin’s arm down, gently wrapping the bandage back up. The wrap was neater than Jungkook’s millionth try and Seokjin felt his chest clench. “You’re supposed to be in bed,” Namjoon repeats gently. “How’d you bring your fever down?” He shrugged his jacket off and tugged it around Seokjin’s shoulders. He cupped Seokjin’s face and brought him closer, pressing their foreheads together to feel Seokjin’s fever. “You’ve still got some of it left.”
“I’m not sick.”
“You were running a fever so high that you were hallucinating a few hours ago, hyung.” Namjoon snorted and takes Seokjin’s wrist. “Let’s get you inside.”
“I’m not going to the gas station,” Seokjin whispered, dread clawing up his stomach. “You’ve got a lighter. I don’t want you to – you – that message-“
Namjoon looked tired and he ran a hand through his hair. Dyed pink, because Seokjin liked pink and it was supposed to be a joke except Namjoon had kept it. I like it that you smile when you see it, Namjoon had said. Namjoon’s voice was gentle. “I wouldn’t blow up the gas station with you in it. Come on, let’s get you inside. I don’t want your fever getting worse. And I want some more disinfectant on that cut.”
Seokjin let Namjoon lead him to the back room of the gas station. The owner started snipping, the way he always did, and Namjoon ignored him. He sat Seokjin down on the sole chair and tugged out the first aid kit. His fingers were gentle unwrapping the almost-ruined bandages and he looked sad. “Namjoon,” Seokjin whispered, cupping Namjoon’s cheek, “It’s just a scrape.”
“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Namjoon sighed. “This is gonna sting a bit, okay?” Namjoon tilted the almost-empty peroxide bottle slowly, letting the steady stream of liquid wash away the remainder of the dirt and clotted blood. He wrapped Seokjin’s arm back up with new bandages and rested his head on Seokjin’s knee. “..When I left that on the mirror I didn’t mean for you to follow.”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”
Namjoon chuckled. “Fair enough.” He wrapped his arms around Seokjin’s waist and pressed his forehead against Seokjin’s stomach. “I can’t live without you.”
Seokjin said nothing. Namjoon and he were the only ones who had known each other from before they all got together. Namjoon had been the one who found Seokjin struggling and trying to breathe under his drunk father, and he’d been the one that had taken the bat that the man had been holding to hit Seokjin with. He’d been the one who’s swung it, as strong as he could, across the man’s head, and he’d been the one who took Seokjin’s hand and ran far, far away. The police had caught up to them only to tell him Namjoon’s acts were justified in Seokjin’s defense, and Seokjin and Namjoon returned to their broken homes. The same thing happened months later later when Seokjin’s drugged-to-her-eyeballs mother tried to set them all on fire. “I ruined your life,” Seokjin whispered. “Everything is my fault.”
“You saved my life.” Namjoon sighed and clung tighter onto Seokjin. “Before your family moved in next door, the only thing I knew was how to hit back harder so my old man would stop hitting and how to stay quiet so my bitch of a mother couldn’t kick me out when she fucked someone else. “
“So why did you try to die?”
Namjoon hesitated and looked up. His eyes were red-brimmed but he wasn’t crying. Namjoon never cried. Never in front of Seokjin, anyway. “I wanted to die a long, long time ago. Before you came into my life. I lived because I had to be strong enough to protect you, but I failed. At even that. You know me, hyung. I’m unstable.”
“Yoongi is unstable.”
“Yoong-hyung has an actual disorder.” Namjoon shook his head. “I’m just unstable. You’re the center of my world and… Seeing you so sick made me sick.” Namjoon buried his face in Seokjin’s stomach. “You’re my one and only sun.” He whispered, and Seokjin squeezed his shoulders. “The only one in the world.”
“I don’t want you to die,” Seokjin whispered. “Let’s go home, Namjoon.”
--
“He loves you,” Psyche commented, watching Seokjin carefully prop a sleeping Namjoon up against the wall next to Jimin and tuck a blanket around his shoulders.
“Yes.”
“But you-“
“Stop.” Seokjin sighed. “Now’s not the time.” Psyche hummed thoughtfully and held open her palms to show Seokjin the two remaining butterflies. Seokjin sighed. “Hang on, I just – I just want to stay with Namjoon a little bit.”
Psyche sighed and carefully cupped her palms, but turned around. “I can’t give you long.”
Seokjin leaned against the wall next to Namjoon and carefully took Namjoon’s hand in his. Namjoon had always been responsible for all of them. Their leader, the one who tried to make sure everything was right and the one who took the fall for all of them. It’d been a while since Seokjin had just watched Namjoon sleep, and he didn’t mind his neck started aching because he was turned to Namjoon’s direction for so long.
“That’s the longest I can give you.” Psyche said, re-entering the room. “Time for the next one, or you’ll miss saving him.”
“Right.” Seokjin sighed and got up. He turned back to Namjoon and squeezed Namjoon’s hand once. He cupped Namjoon’s cheeks and pressed his lips against Namjoon’s, lingering for just a moment before tears threatened to spill and he pulled away. “Right. Yoongi.”
Psyche gave him a look he couldn’t read but lifted up one of the butterflies. “Yoongi.”
--
Seokjin banged on the motel door. “Min Yoongi, you open this door right now!” He banged harder when no response came from it. “Don’t think I don’t smell the gasoline, Yoongi. If you’re going to burn this place down, you’re going to burn it with both you and me in it.”
The door yanked open and Seokjin almost fell through. Yoongi glared, breaths in heaving gasps. The room was completely trashed and Seokjin could see traces of Yoongi’s anger all over the place.
Bipolar disorder.
Yoongi had never been formally diagnosed (they didn’t quite have the money for that), but it was Namjoon’s guess and Seokjin thought that was more or less correct. Yoongi went through phases of intense anger and then phases where he felt absolutely no motivation to do anything. It was one of the reasons why he and Jungkook fought so much. Yoongi grabbed Seokjin’s shirt and almost tore it as he yanked Seokjin inside and threw him on the bed. “You don’t think I’d do it?” Yoongi hissed, grabbing the container of gasoline. “You think I wouldn’t?”
Seokjin winced and sat up, rubbing his injured arm. He reached out to cup his hands over Yoongi’s hands. Bigger than his, even though the rest of Yoongi was so small. “Yoongi,” he whispered, “I know you wouldn’t.”
Yoongi’s face twisted and he threw Seokjin’s hand off, and then after a moment, sent the gasoline container sprawling across the room as well. “Fuck you, hyung, just – fuck you.” Yoongi screamed, reaching across to the closest thing – the wall – and ripping the wallpaper off the walls. Seokjin didn’t try to interfere until Yoongi reached the mirror. He jumped off the bed and almost slipped on the gasoline-soaked carpet, but managed to yank Yoongi away before Yoongi could crash his fist into the glass. Yoongi struggled and Yoongi had always been stronger than Seokjin, especially when he was so angry, but Seokjin held on until Yoongi’s fist connected solidly with his cheek.
Yoongi froze. “Fuck,” he whispered, twisting to cup Seokjin’s cheek and turning Seokjin’s face to examine the rapidly reddening skin. “Fuck, hyung, fuck. Why do you always fucking get in the way?” Yoongi shoved Seokjin away, stumbling away and slipping on the gasoline. “I can’t fucking live like this anymore, hyung, I just fucking can’t. Do you know what it’s like? To be one thing one day and then something completely different the next day?”
“I don’t. I don’t, Yoongi, but-“
“And now fucking Hoseok’s dead, Jimin’s dead, and Jungkook’s dead and the last time I did to Jungkook was fucking punch him across the face. Do you know how the fuck that feels, hyung? I’m better off killing myself because at this rate I’m going to get worse and worse until I kill Namjoon or something.”
Seokjin didn’t bother reining his tears back. “Yoongi,” he whispered, gripping Yoongi’s hands. “Namjoon’s dead.”
Yoongi stopped his rant. He blinked slowly, clothes soaked with the acrid smell of gasoline, and whispered, “What..?”
Seokjin sobbed, “Namjoon died. He killed himself. He left us a message on the bathroom mirror and then blew up the gas station.”
Yoongi grabbed his shoulders. “You’re fucking lying to me! Namjoon wouldn’t do that – he wouldn’t, not when you were alive and – He wouldn’t do that to you.” Yoongi grabbed Seokjin’s cheeks and forced his face up to meet his eyes, and Seokjin let out a wretched sob. “… He wouldn’t, hyung. He- he wouldn’t. I made him promise he’d protect you and Taehyung. He just wouldn’t. I know Kim Namjoon and he wasn’t suicidal, god damn it! He wasn’t fucked up like the rest of us. He was carrying a lot on his shoulders but he wouldn’t leave you here to fend for yourself.”
Seokjin hiccupped his sobs back. “Myself?” Seokjin smiled sadly. “Yoongi, I’ve got you and Taehyung to take care of.”
Yoongi’s face twisted against and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he suddenly deflated and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook and Seokjin realized he was crying. “I can’t take care of you, hyung,” Yoongi whispered. “You’ve no idea how much I wanted to, but I’m fucked up. I can’t take care of anyone. I’d just end up hurting you.”
Seokjin carefully slid across the floor to grip Yoongi’s hands. “You don’t have to take care of me, Yoongi. I’m stronger than you give me credit for. We’ll take care of each other. You and me and Taehyung.”
Yoongi laughed at that. It was a cruel laugh that made Seokjin flinch. “Taehyung? Hyung, he’s been fucked up ever since. You know that. And you..” Yoongi’s eyes softened. “You’re the strongest person I know. I don’t know how the fuck you survive. My fucking parents never gave two shits about me but at least they never tried to kill me.” He raised his knees and buried his face in his knees. “But you’re weak when it comes to us and I’d just hurt you. That would tear me apart.” His voice trembled. “No matter much I run, I’m back to the same place. Just push me away. I’m fucked up.”
“Stop saying that. You’re not fucked up.” Seokjin sighed. He felt nauseous with all the smell of the gasoline. Yoongi rubbed his eyes and walked to the window. The gasoline-soaked carpet squelched under his bare feet. Seokjin followed and sighed in relief when Yoongi threw the window open.
“I’m fucked up, hyung. That’s why my parents didn’t want me. Or my grandparents. Or anyone else, for that fucking matter.” Yoongi gripped the windowsill so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No one. Until I met you and Namjoon.” Yoongi paused. “Fuck, even Namjoon didn’t want me.”
“Yoongi.” Seokjin blinked, alarmed. “That’s not true.”
“Fuck, hyung, yes it is. Not now, I mean. Back when I first met you guys. He thought I’d hurt you. And he was right.” Yoongi raised a hand to thumb the cheek that had started to lightly bruise. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I was sure he’d stay with you forever.” Yoongi’s eyes lowered. “And you’re wearing his jacket.”
“Oh.” Seokjin looked down on himself. He’d never taken off the jacket Namjoon had put around his shoulders. “I… It was warm.” He buttoned the jacket up and the sleeves slid down a little to reveal bandages around his arm.
Yoongi grabbed his arm. “Look at you. Already hurt.” He drew the sleeve up and frowned when the bandages stretched from wrist to elbow. “How the hell did you hurt yourself so badly?”
“I fell.” Seokjin tugged the sleeve back down. “Yoongi, you’re.. coming back with me, right?” Yoongi said nothing and Seokjin gripped his hands. “Yoongi, please.”
Yoongi sighed dejectedly and pulled Seokjin closer so their foreheads were resting on each other. “I’ll stay until Taehyung snaps the fuck out of it. Let’s get the hell out of here. The gasoline is making my head pound.”
“How are we going to pay for all this?” Seokjin whispered, looking fearfully around at the damage.
“I’m not an idiot, hyung. I paid up front and gave them a fake ID. I didn’t want them coming down to track you guys after I fucked the place up.” Yoongi shoved his hands in his pockets. “Fuck, we’re gonna have to burn these clothes. At least they’ll burn like twigs.”
Seokjin followed close to Yoongi as they walked out, Yoongi squishing his feet into gasoline-soaked shoes. They took the back alley into the container yard and Seokjin pulled out a sleeping bag and stretched it out below the couch for Yoongi to sleep in. “You go to sleep, too, hyung,” Yoongi mumbled, already half-asleep. “I dunno why I’m so tired…”
“Yeah.” Seokjin smiled and squeezed Yoongi’s hands. “I’ll just – you fall asleep first. I’ll pull out blankets for me too.”
Yoongi nodded and squeezed Seokjin’s hands back. It wasn’t long before he nodded off and Seokjin wished he could do something for Yoongi and all his anger. Yoongi wasn’t so bad when he was at his lower points – he was pretty listless, but Seokjin had read up on bipolar disorders after Namjoon had suggested Yoongi had it and Yoongi didn’t hit the lows as badly as the books had implied. Only if he could get help, Seokjin thought desperately. The lights dimmed and he sighed, leaning to press his lips on Yoongi’s forehead. “Take care of them, okay?” He whispered, squeezing Yoongi’s hands. “They’re going to need you.”
He decided to prolong holding Yoonig’s hand and staying for as long as possible, but Psyche didn’t bother calling him back. He glanced back, a little confused, and Psyche had a smile on her face. “..Is there something?”
She had a butterfly on her index finger. “Yes. I am not certain yet, but..” She smiled at him again – not the creepy half-smirk that had sent chills down Seokjin’s spine, but a legitimate smile. “I will be certain when you have saved the last one. Fascinating.”
“What is?” Seokjin sighed and stood. His clothes – including Namjoon’s jacket – still reeked of gasoline.
“I shall inform you once I am certain.” Psyche chuckled. “But fascinating, indeed. Now, your last brother awaits you.”
--
When Seokjin came to, he realized he wasn’t at the beach like he’d expected to be. He was back in their container, on the floor with Taehyung’s head in his lap. Right before they’d decided to go the beach. There was a house of cards built on top of the desk, right where Seokjin had left it before Taehyung had made the suggestion. Seokjin had been so happy Taehyung had suggested they do something, and then..
Seokjin pushed it to the back of his mind. It didn’t matter anymore. Not now.
“Do you think Namjoon hyung regrets it?”
Seokjin flinched. “I thought you were asleep.” Taehyung opened his eyes and looked up at him. “Regret what, Taehyung?”
“Killing your parents.”
“I.. I don’t know.”
“I asked him, you know. How he felt about it. I couldn’t deal with seeing – seeing my old man’s face in my nightmares. I asked how he dealt with it. He said he was so caught up in the fact that you might have died that he didn’t really process, but I think he’s lying.” Taehyung closed his eyes again. “It fucked him up. He just doesn’t let you see it.” Seokjin didn’t quite know how to respond to that, but Taehyung twisted to tug him closer. “I’m glad he did.” Taehyung whispered, and he said nothing else.
Seokjin stared out at the wall that Taehyung and Namjoon had gotten drunk and put spray paint all over. “Remember how we used to all come here?”
Taehyung snorted. “How could I forget? You always had to drive. We were happy back then. With everyone.”
Seokjin ran his fingers through Taehyung’s hair. Taehyung had thought it was a good idea to dye his hair green, except he and Jimin tried to use some kind of made-up concoction they’d seen online. It’d ended up giving Taehyung some weird green streaks and had fried his hair. Seokjin smiled fondly at the memory. “We could be happy now.”
Taehyung said nothing in response to that but hugged Seokjin tighter. He sighed and sat up, gripping Seokjin’s arms and pressing his lips against Seokjin’s. Seokjin didn’t pull away and let Taehyung push him down onto his back. Taehyung didn’t do much else but tuck himself to Seokjin’s side. They both stared up the dull ceiling and Taehyung spread his hands, palms up, toward the grey. “I want to fly.”
Seokjin flinched. He propped himself up on an elbow. “You want to fly?”
“Yeah like.. a butterfly or something.” Taehyung slid his gaze from the ceiling to Seokjin. Taehyung looked so broken. Had looked so broken ever since. “I killed my dad, hyung.”
“You had to. He was about to kill your mother otherwise.”
“I didn’t do it for that bitch.” Taehyung growled. “I did it for myself. She packed up and left as soon as he was gone out of the picture. She never gave two shits about me, hyung, and I never gave two shits about her. If anything, I hated her more than I hated my old man. It’s her fault. My dad and I were good, when we were young. But then she started to sleep around and he started drinking, and..” Taehyung pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Whatever; it was all fucked up.”
Seokjin sighed and settled for rubbing Taehyung’s cheek. “They were never your family to begin with, Tae.”
Taehyung sighed. “I know. You guys were. Always. Even now, I just..” Taehyung broke off and Seokjin heard the tremor in his voice. “I don’t know how you keep sane. I know you’re the most affected by all this. You always had too much love for everyone else and not enough for yourself. It used to be okay, you know, since we loved you enough to make up for it. But now…” Taehyung let his hands drop to his sides. “I never thought Namjoon-hyung and Yoong-hyung would leave you. I guess they were hurting more than they could handle it.” Taehyung paused again and sat up to bring his lips to Seokjin’s again. “Why me, hyung? All of us loved you. But you chose me.”
“I didn’t choose you. It just… happened.”
Taehyung chuckled. It was humorless and make Seokjin’s chest clench. “You were always a romantic. Not about life, though. About that you probably knew best.” He pulled Seokjin closer so Seokjin’s ear was pressed up against his chest. Taehyung’s heartbeat was erratic. “You had it the hardest out of all of us, but instead of getting fucked up you turned that into taking care of the rest of all. Not that it didn’t fuck you up, though. Don’t think we didn’t notice you having nightmares at night or crying in the early morning when you thought none of us were awake.”
Taehyung got up and Seokjin watched him walk to the table. He stared at Seokjin’s house of cards and in one swipe destroyed it. Seokjin flinched. “Taehyung, what’s going on?”
“You don’t have enough love for yourself.” Seokjin stared, wide-eyed, and Taehyung turned toward him. He looked angry. “You don’t have to always put us first and you last, you know. I – I love you as much as Namjoon-hyung or Yoong-hyung does, as much as Hoseok-hyung and Jimin and Jungkook do. Maybe more. The most. And it fucking hurts me to see you be so careless about your own life and so caring about ours.”
Seokjins’ face softened and he patted the space next to him. Taehyung hesitated, but walked back over and sat down. Taehyung had always reminded Seokjin of a puppy, and now he just looked so sad. “I care about you guys. Making sure you guys are safe is putting myself first. I know you guys were all suffering and I was selfish and just tried to go on like nothing was wrong.” He cupped Taehyung’s cheek. “And look where it’s brought us.”
Taehyung leaned against Seokin’s hand and cupped Seokjin’s hands with his. He voice was soft when he spoke. “Don’t be ridiculous. We both know none of this is your fault and that you’re one of the least selfish people around.” Taehyung moved so he was lying with his head in Seokjin’s lap once again. He stared up – not at Seokjin, but at the ceiling above them. “Hyung, what do you think the worst way someone can die is?”
Seokjin’s heart sank and he gripped Taehyung’s hand. “Why?”
“I guess Yoongi-hyung had a bad way to go. Burning himself to death.” Taehyung sounded like he wasn’t quite focusing on what he was saying. “Maybe drowning. Or you know. Getting hit by a car.” Taehyung started to rattle off and Seokjin felt his heart tear but let him prattle on. Soon enough there were tears streaming down Taehyung’s cheeks and onto Seokjins’ jeans. “I don’t want to live anymore.”
Seokjin carefully thumbed Taehyung’s tears away. “There’s no bad way to die, Taehyung. In the end you’re… dead. Some might hurt less, but in the end you won’t remember it. You’ll be gone. And I’ll be here to pick up the pieces. If I even can.”
“Well then, Yoongi-hyung picked the worst way to go without any reason, huh?” Taehyung was trying to smile but he was crying too hard, and Seokjin kept his hands cupped on Taehyung’s cheeks, carefully wiping away the streams of tears until Taehyung turned to hug his waist. His shirt was rapidly soaking with Taehyung’s silent tears and all Seokjin could do was run his hands through Taehyung’s hair. “I don’t want you to be hurting.”
Seokjin considered that carefully. “..Do you want me to die with you, then?”
“No!” Taehyung shrieked, squeezing Seokjin’s waist. “No, not – not at all. That’s not what I want. No.” He sighed and looked up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Seokjin stopped him and carefully thumbed away the tears instead. “That’s not what I want.”
“Then stay with me.” Seokjin carefully drew a blanket around Taehyung and carefully lied down, wrapping his arms around Taehyung. “We’ll fix things, Taehyung. Everything – everything is going to be okay.”
Taehyung pressed their foreheads together and whispered hoarsely, “I won’t leave, hyung. Don’t leave me.” Seokjin could only nod mutely and hold Taehyung’s hand as Taehyung sobbed. He waited until Taehyung’s breath evened out to carefully sit up, and his breath sharpened when the lights dimmed.
“You saved most of them by convincing them to stay with you. I do not miss the irony of the situation.” Psyche folded her arms across her chest.
Seokjin kept his eyes on Taehyung and carefully pressed his lips against Taehyung’s cheek. “I thought you had something to tell me.”
“So I did. I have greatly underestimated all the love you have for each other. And the price of your memories. If I take your life, your love for them, their love for you, as well as their memories of you, I am afraid I would be taking too much. The balances will not work out. I will, instead, repress their memories of you. They will forget you, all the same. You will not appear in their photos, or their videos, and you will be erased from this world except in their deep, deep, deep memories. And one day, if they remember, I will appear to them and let them save you. At no cost, in case you were wondering. You will have paid for that as well.” Psyche paused and looked smug. “I do not know if that day will come. But it is what will happen.”
Seokjin nodded slowly. “…Will they be all right without me?”
“My powers do not include seeing the future, I am afraid. It seems like they might be quite a mess without you. But not many can say they have a second chance at life, even if they do not know it. They will wake up and continue their lives, dreary or not. Whether they stand back up is up to them and no longer in your hands. Your time is rapidly dwindling. I must take my payment.”
Seokjin nodded and sighed. He carefully stood and looked around. Hoseok on the couch. Jimin on the mattress. Jungkook on the loveseat. Namjoon propped against the wall. Yoongi in the sleeping bag. Taehyung under the blankets on the carpet. He let his tears drip down his cheeks and hugged Namjoon’s jacket tighter around himself. He squatted in front of Namjoon and carefully brushed messy pink bangs out of his eyes. “Take care of them, okay?” He took a deep breath, stood, and finally turned to face Psyche. “Okay.”
Psyche raised her hands and opened her hands. A small butterfly carefully landed on her extended fingers and she smiled. “Pink. How fitting.”