Chapter Text
There was a subtle shift in the air as Jimin settled back down on the ground. Nothing monumental, but definitely noticeable if one paid attention.
The silence lingered between them. Which was nothing new, but it now seemed somehow heavier than before. In the dim light of the two nearby streetlights, Jimin watched Namjoon’s expression tighten ever so slightly and Seokjin’s lips press into a thin line as though trying his best to hold back some comment that wanted to escape him.
In the end, he didn’t succeed.
‘It’s not like we asked you to stay.’
Jimin grinned. ‘Nope. But you also didn’t tell me to leave, did you?’
A sigh escaped Namjoon. ‘Is that what it takes to get rid of you? I can give it to you: Go. You said you have somewhere else to be, so just – go already.’
Shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable, Jimin shook his head. ‘Nah, I’m good. I’ll stay.’
‘ Oh, lucky us ’, Seokjin muttered under his breath. ‘Fine then. Stay here as long as you want. But don’t expect us to stay, too.’
‘Fair’, Jimin nodded. ‘Feel free to leave anytime.’
‘We don’t need your permission for that’, Namjoon growled lowly.
Jimin grinned again. ‘My bad. Of course you don’t. Just because you live in Idol Paradise doesn’t mean you can’t make your own decisions. So, you’re leaving now?’
Namjoon and Seokjin exchanged a look.
‘Damn right we are’, Seokjin finally replied, avoiding Jimin’s gaze.
Namjoon nodded grimly. ‘Right now.’
But neither of them moved.
Jimin raised a questioning eyebrow.
Awkward silence settled over them all.
Not the type of angry silence that usually radiated from Namjoon and Seokjin. The type that Jimin would let them stew in, that he would ignore or even fire up with snarky remarks.
No, this one was different.
Heavier somehow.
Confusion hung in the air.
Not from Jimin’s side. He knew what was going on. Had been aware from the moment they first reacted so dismissively distant to him having to leave. There had been a shift. One they didn’t want to acknowledge. Couldn’t acknowledge without losing face. Without having to face a lot of things they weren’t ready to face yet.
They were lost. Jimin was well aware of that. A part of them did not want for him to leave, that much had been obvious. Why, he couldn’t tell for sure. Maybe because right now he was the only connection they had to their mates. Maybe because right now he was the only connection to the outside world they had, period. Maybe because right now he was the only thing distracting them from what their world had narrowed down to: isolation, loneliness, silence and the aching knowledge that the world was still moving on without them.
Jimin had been there himself. He knew how it was to feel so cornered, so disconnected, so utterly lost. His mission had given him purpose. But it was the lot who had given him some sort of stability to go with that eventually. Octopi that they were ,they had refused to let him withdraw into his very own (literal) eel cave, had clung to him, annoyed the hell out of him, grown on him more than he would ever admit out loud and eventually given him a purpose beyond his mission.
And yet Jimin had not fully let them in until he met Yoongi. Nobody had ever torn through Jimin’s defenses like his instinctual mate had. As a matter of fact, Jimin wasn’t all that sure if Yoongi had even known those defenses were there, given the way he had walked through the walls Jimin had put up around him like they had unlocked doors and made himself at home right at the core of everything, overthrowing five years of Jimin trying not to let anyone get close again within just a couple of days.
A barely audible sigh brought him back to the present. He blinked, refocused his thoughts to the situation at hand and frowned slightly. There was no way to tell whether the person who had just sighed was Namjoon or Seokjin, but it also didn’t really matter. For a moment, he took in their rigid postures, the way their eyes kept flickering towards each other yet always avoided straying to him, the way neither of them seemed to know what to do next.
Well, that wasn’t exactly new now, was it?
Part of Jimin wanted to make a snarky remark about why they were still here. Ask whether they hadn’t wanted to leave a couple of minutes ago already. He couldn’t help it. There was something about teasing those two that felt oddly – comforting.
Frowning, Jimin shook his head. That was a thought he would rather not explore further anytime soon. Trying to distract himself and the eels from the awkward situation at hand, he exhaled slowly and reached into his pocket to take out his phone.
Immediately, Namjoon and Seokjin became alert.
‘What now?’ Namjoon wanted to know.
Jimin cast him a look. ‘Well, since we obviously have nothing to talk about, I figured I could just as well watch that ominous video thing of yours.’
‘MV’, Seokjin sighed with a shake of his head. ‘It’s called an MV.’
‘Whatever’, Jimin waved a dismissive hand in the air. ‘Video is video. How do I find it?’
A beat of silence.
Namjoon cast him a disbelieving look. ‘Are you serious right now?’
‘No’, Jimin deadpanned. ‘I just asked because I love hearing your voice so much.’ He sighed. ‘Why else would I ask?’
‘You must be living under a rock’, Seokjin looked about ready to snatch the phone out of Jimin’s hand. ‘Ever heard of YouTube?’
‘YouTube’, Jimin mused for a moment, then he snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up. ‘Oh, that thing the lot love to use to practice your choreographies!’
‘You know about choreographies, but not about MVs?’ Seokjin looked bewildered. ‘You are just playing with us now, aren’t you?’
For a brief moment, Jimin’s eyes turned distant. He shook his head, glancing back down on his phone, shoulders a bit more tense than usual now. ‘I used to love dancing as a child’, he replied quietly.
The silence returned and this time, he didn’t seem inclined on breaking it. His gaze stayed fixed on his phone, but he made no move to look anything up.
Namjoon and Seokjin exchanged a look. This was the first time the beta had shared anything personal with them. Something tangible, something that seemed real. They had no idea what to do with it, but it was something, wasn’t it? No proof of him being the con artist they knew he was, but still, a first breakthrough.
I used to love dancing as a child.
For a brief moment Namjoon caught himself imagining Jimin dance, then he frowned and shoved that thought to the back of his mind. He eyed the man in front of him, who suddenly seemed unusually subdued.
Something had struck a nerve there.
Namjoon’s eyes met Seokjin’s, a silent agreement passing between them.
They weren’t here to unravel whatever reason was behind the beta’s lost love for dance.
They weren’t here to offer emotional support
They were here to prove he wasn’t who he claimed to be.
Only that.
Nothing else.
And yet, something did suddenly feel off.
Seokjin cleared his throat. ‘Pull up YouTube and type in BTS I NEED U ’, he offered begrudgingly.
Jimin blinked at him, then nodded and focused back on his phone.
The weird feeling stayed.
‘Thanks’, Jimin murmured quietly.
They didn’t like the sound of it.
He wasn’t supposed to sound like this.
Dejected.
Vulnerable.
He was supposed to be snarky .
Sassy .
Annoying .
Not – not this .
Whatever it was.
They didn’t like it one bit.
Seokjin shook his head and glared at the beta. ‘Whatever. Just play it already.’
‘Time to broaden your horizon’, Namjoon added begrudgingly. ‘Who knows? Maybe you’ll learn something useful.’
Jimin’s head snapped up, the vulnerability fading as a familiar twinkle returned to his eyes. ‘Right, he snorted. ‘Because watching you all run around train tracks and stuff sounds incredibly educational.’
Without waiting for a reply, he turned his attention back to his phone, typed something and then pulled up the video in question.
‘Let’s see what this fuss was all about’, he muttered to himself as he began watching, trying and somewhat failing to hide his curiosity behind a blank expression.
Namjoon and Seokjin sat in silence, watching the beta watch their MV, the familiar tunes the only sound as they waited for his reaction. From time to time they exchanged a glance. There was something weird about this whole situation.
Why – just why – did his reaction seem important to them?
It didn’t make sense.
They shouldn’t care at all about what he thought about the MV.
What he thought about their music.
What he thought about their band.
What he thought about their pack.
What he thought about them .
So why did they wait for his reaction almost anxiously?
Why were they watching him so closely now?
Not that it did them any good.
Jimin wasn’t giving anything away.
Throughout the entire video, he remained almost perfectly unreadable, his expression barely ever shifting, his eyes revealing nothing.
No smirk. No raised eyebrows. No mirth in his eyes. No nothing.
Maybe in broad daylight they might have been able to catch at least a glimpse of something from him, but in the semi darkness only illuminated by streetlights and the glow of Jimin’s phone, the small flickers of emotions that might have crossed the beta’s face against his will stayed invisible for them.
The video felt longer than usual.
And when it finally ended, the silence returned even louder than before.
They had expected Jimin to say something. To make a snarky remark. To dismiss what he saw. To tell them off for even having made the connection between the place and the video. To make fun of it.
But he just stayed silent, eyes still glued to his phone even after the screen turned dark again.
Namjoon shifted uncomfortably, exchanging another glance with Seokjin.
Just what was going on tonight?
Eventually, Seokjin couldn’t stand the silence any longer. ‘ Well? ’ He asked, unable to fully keep the underlying curiosity out of his voice.
Just why did his opinion matter to them?
Jimin stared at his black phone screen for a little while longer, then slowly lifted his eyes to meet their stares, expression still carefully blank, but a faint twinkle having returned to his eyes. ‘I don’t know’, he said slowly.
An impatient look crossed Namjoon’s face. ‘You don’t know what ?’
Jimin shrugged his shoulders. ‘Why this is called MV when it is just a dramatized documentary of your pack issues.’
Momentarily speechless, Namjoon blinked at him, shoulders stiffening as the remark settled in. Seokjin’s mouth opened and closed a few times without a single sound coming out, before he pressed his lips together tightly.
Noticing their reactions, Jimin softened his tone. ‘I didn’t mean it that way. It’s a good video, really. I like the concept. The themes you all picked up are important.’ He sighed, casting them a slightly concerned look. ‘It’s just that – right now it feels like it is hitting close to home? All those themes of running, isolation, desolation – that video is a trainwreck waiting to happen, isn’t it?’ He paused, letting his words sink in before he quietly asked: ‘ Do you think there could have been a different ending for it?’
They stared at him, neither saying anything, but he could tell that they were thinking about it by the way the hostility in their eyes was slowly being replaced by a mix of realization and consideration.
‘I think there could have been’, he continued quietly. ‘Not an easy one for sure. The people in that – MV ? They hung out together just fine all the time. The fun scenes? They were obviously happy together. Comfortable around each other. What if instead of trying to work through whatever happened to them individually on their own, they would have talked to each other? What if they had tried to understand each other on a deeper level? They might have been able to help each other, don’t you think?’
Again, he was met with silence.
Jimin suppressed a sigh and decided to give them a moment to process his words. He knew what he had just said might have hit hard and the last thing he wanted was to undo the little progress he had made with them. Choosing this place as their meeting spot for the night had been a coincidence, but now that he had watched the video, had realized the unexpected and most likely also fully unintentional when filming parallels to the pack, he had had to address it. This might just be his one chance to get through to the two eels on a level they could actually relate to. It was their song, their music video, a story they told for their fans from what Jimin understood.
Not that he understood much about pop culture at all. Heck, he hadn’t even known the abbreviation for music video was MV. For all he was concerned, it could just as well have stood for maintenance van or market vendor. How was Jimin supposed to know it referred to a damn music video?
But the fact remained that this music video was something the two could possibly relate to. The scenes of running away. Happiness on the surface level. The quiet struggles each of them fought. Every single, isolated breakdown—Jimin barely knew the pack yet, but it had still felt oddly familiar. The sense of isolation, of a group of people each fighting their own battles alone, unaware that the others were struggling in silence, too – the parallels had stood out to Jimin immediately. And he had known he had to address them, had to grab this chance to somehow get through to Namjoon and Seokjin.
It didn’t mean he had to let them sit and suffer with it, though. They had taken something from what he said, that much he could tell by how neither of them had retorted with the usual angry retorts or annoyed huffs. That was all he could ask for right now. He knew they would need time to let this settle in on their own terms. To think about it – or not – and figure out what to do with it.
Jimin rolled his shoulders, put away his phone and then looked up at them with a small smirk. ‘That said –‘, he sighed and cast them a mockingly stern look. ‘Throwing around food like that? Really? I hope you still ate it afterwards?’
Startled out of his silent contemplation, Seokjin blinked a couple of times. ‘What?’
‘The food’, Jimin repeated patiently, expression serious, but eyes twinkling. ‘In the video. I hope you didn’t waste it.’
‘The food’, Namjoon repeated, sounding more than just a little confused by the sudden shift in conversation.
Jimin nodded. ‘Yeah. The food. And also –‘ He turned his attention fully to Namjoon. ‘What about this dramatic posing with a lollipop resembling a cigarette? At a gas station nonetheless?’
‘It was just a prop!’ Namjoon sputtered, taken completely off-guard, wide eyes searching for help from his mate who was biting his lip hard.
‘Sure it was’, Jimin agreed with a grin. ‘Still probably not the best place to pretend smoking, don’t you think?’
A snort escaped Seokjin and he quickly pressed a hand in front of his mouth, descending into an elaborate fake coughing fit. Namjoon shot him a quick glare.
Jimin smirked. ‘Anyway. You know what your video is missing?’
Seeing as Seokjin was still busy pretending to cough, Namjoon sighed and cast Jimin a slightly exasperated look. ‘What now?’
‘Water’, Jimin said simply. ‘You have a fire in a motel room. Why no water?’
Seokjin stopped coughing. ‘That’s –‘, he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Creative freedom. Ever heard of it?’
‘But water’, Jimin insisted, leaning forward slightly, ‘is the source of your life. Don’t you know that?’
They stared at him.
Jimin gave a serious little nod of his head. ‘Life. The river. Fate. The currents. Water.’ He frowned, thought for a moment and then added more to himself: ‘Come to think of it. If I had been in that video, I probably would have been drowning somewhere. Or something like that.’ He looked up at Namjoon and Seokjin, who looked utterly bewildered now. ‘It would fit the theme, wouldn’t it?’
It took them a moment to find their voices again.
Eventually, Namjoon snorted. ‘As if you’d ever be in a music video.’
‘Let alone in any of ours ’, Seokjin added with a shake of his head.
Jimin cast them a wide-eyed look. ‘I could just be a solo artist.’
‘That would require talent’, Namjoon replied with a shake of his head.
‘Harsh’, Jimin shrugged his shoulders. ‘But yeah. Maybe my real talent lies elsewhere.’ He gave them a conspiratorial wink. ‘Like in being a con artist.’
Seokjin groaned. ‘Will you ever stop referencing that?’
Jimin raised his eyebrows. ‘Why? You are convinced I am one, aren’t you?’
There was a second or two of silence.
Not long at all.
But all of them noticed.
Namjoon scoffed. ‘Of course we do.’
‘You know that well enough’, Seokjin added flatly.
Shrugging his shoulders, Jimin nodded, looking totally unbothered. ‘Glad to hear that. It really wouldn’t do our competition any good if you had changed your minds now.’
‘Oh, trust me, that is still on’, Namjoon replied, glancing at Seokjin, who nodded and added: ‘And we’re going to win it.’
Jimin nodded solemnly. ‘Great. I’d hate to think you were starting to like me.’
Another brief paus.
Namjoon scoffed again, maybe a bit too sharply this time.
Seokjin looked away. ‘Not gonna happen’, he muttered under his breath.
Nobody spoke again after that.
A light breeze tugged at their clothes, the early October air still warm enough to prevent them from feeling cold even late into the night. The electric wires hanging over the tracks hummed in the silence that had suddenly settled over them. Somewhere in the distance, a train horn echoed.
Nobody addressed it, but they all had noticed it.
That split-second delay in replies.
The tiny hint of something different.
But for now, nobody addressed it.
-----
Hoseok closed the door behind himself, reached for the light switch, flipped it and then blinked in the sudden brightness flooding the room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light and even after they did, he still stood rooted in his spot for quite a while, taking in the sight in front of him.
The dance studio.
Their dance studio.
He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump forming in his throat.
It used to be a place he went to almost daily.
A place all of them came to on a very regular basis.
And now?
When was the last time they practiced here together?
When was the last time he himself came here?
It must have been weeks .
Closing his eyes, Hoseok shook his head, trying to chase away the heavy mood that had suddenly settled over him.
Thinking about it like that wouldn’t help right now. He had come here to clear his mind, to get away from the haunting thoughts that just wouldn’t leave, day in and day out.
To dance.
Hoseok couldn’t remember the last time he had actually danced.
The thought alone hurt.
He had always loved to dance.
As long as he could remember.
Had found a way to ground himself in it. To free himself of spiraling thoughts. To just simply be, without any of the burdens of life and the world pressing down on it.
Hoseok had missed dancing.
Taking a deep breath, he took a couple of steps to one of the benches, put down his training bag on it and began to stretch, his mind going back to how he had all but fled the apartment Sejin had organized for them earlier.
He simply hadn’t been able to stand the suffocating mix of sorrow and hopelessness clinging to the place anymore. Not that Hoseok was blaming anyone for the atmosphere of that place. It wasn’t just Jungkook and Taehyung contributing to it, he was doing very much the same.
It simply was hard to relax at that place. To not be reminded of everything that had gone wrong with their pack, their band, their lives recently. Staying in Yoongi’s studio had been one thing. It had felt like a temporary refuge, a place that could shelter them while still feeling somewhat close to at least one of their mates. An option that had allowed them to still find comfort in their surroundings even when everything else around them had been falling apart.
The new apartment though – it was alien to them.
Nothing in it held emotional value for any of them.
A foreign place.
It wasn’t anything like a home.
Just a place to be because they had nowhere else to go.
A necessity.
Something disconnected .
And that same disconnection reminded them of their packs’ precarious situation all the time.
Day in and day out.
None of them liked the place.
None of them liked staying there.
If they could, they would have returned home already.
But they couldn’t.
Didn’t even know if they were still welcome there at this point.
The uncertainty of the situation gnawed at all of them.
And the apartment only made it worse.
A cruel daily reminder of what they were about to lose.
They all hated i t.
Hoseok hated it.
Hated how it haunted him even now, even here.
At the place he usually so easily found solace in.
The dance studio.
His sanctuary.
Finishing his stretches, Hoseok took a deep breath, made his way over to the sound system and selected a playlist. The moment the beat filled the room, something in him shifted ever so slightly.
He had come here to finally be able to breathe again. To let go, if only for a little while.
To dance.
Stepping into the middle of the room, he closed his eyes for a moment. Banished all thoughts. Let the rhythm take control.
It didn’t take long for his body to start moving. It happened on instinct, no learned or planned choreography. Just freestyling, like he used to do a lot in the past. His body took over, leaving his mind behind.
Finally.
Hoseok’s feet slid across the floor in fluid steps, shoulders rolling, his arms carving shapes into the air around him without needing any thought.
Just instinct.
Just dancing.
Just being.
For a while, there was nothing else. Just the sound of the music, one song blending into the next and the fluid motions of his body as it leaned into the rhythm, caught the beat and melody and painted a moving picture in response to it.
No sterile apartment.
No fractured pack.
No band on hiatus.
Just.
Dance.
Hoseok’s eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, his trust in his body to carry him through the motions and keep him afloat to the rhythm absolute. The bright lights of the dance studio were blurring together as he moved, forming a sort of halo through his partly squinted eyes.
This was what he had been looking for.
Why he had come here.
To finally let go.
To be floating above everything else, to leave all worries behind if only for a little while.
The studio door opened, then closed with a soft click.
Hoseok didn’t notice, his body continuing to float to the music, lost in his own little world.
Footsteps shuffled, then stopped for a moment, as if contemplating.
Indecisive.
Watching.
Again, he didn’t notice.
Nor did he notice another pair of feet joining in his freestyling to his left.
Then yet another to his right.
Not a single word was spoken.
Just dance.
The music shifted for the umpteenth time.
Hoseok adapted effortlessly.
He had always loved this particular playlist for freestyling. Not band songs, but danceable songs he loved apart from that. Songs without a fixed choreography, songs that allowed his body to just move as it saw fit. Fast beats interchanging with slower tunes, keeping his body on its toes quite literally, providing welcome variety and challenge.
It wasn’t until he felt a very subtle breath on his neck, got the feeling of someone moving close to him, that his mind came back into focus, eyes opening fully for the first time in what might have been over an hour, blinking at the bright light that he suddenly became aware of again.
Jungkook was dancing to his left.
Taehyung to his right.
Something tightened around Hoseok’s heart. His movements slowed, his steps faltering until he came to a stop. It only took about a second or two for his two younger mates to stop as well, sheepish faces turning towards him.
For the second time since entering the studio today, Hoseok swallowed hard.
He hadn’t told his mates where he was going. Just that he needed to get out for a while. Away from the apartment. There had been no explanation needed for the reason. They all felt the same about that place, all felt like suffocating in there.
Hoseok hadn’t told them where he was going.
And yet they had found him.
They were here with him now.
He blinked again, unsure whether it was because of the brightness or the sting he suddenly felt in his eyes. Words were escaping him right now, but something warm and tender settled in his chest as he took in Taehyung’s slightly flushed face and Jungkook’s tiny, almost shy smile.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
It didn’t feel right.
The music shifted again, to something very upbeat this time.
Somehow, that didn’t feel right, either.
Slowly, Hoseok made his way over to the sound system and pressed pause.
The silence between them seemed even louder now, the only sound left in the room their heavy breathing. For a moment, Hoseok wondered just how long his mates had already been here with him, for how long he hadn’t even noticed their presence.
Without turning around, he finally broke the silence.
‘You came.’
A small huff that Hoseok would be able to recognize anywhere.
Taehyung.
‘Of course we came, hyung.’
‘Did you think we’d just let you dance your heart out all by yourself?’ Jungkook sounded slightly amused.
Eventually, Hoseok allowed himself to turn around, his eyes meeting those of his younger mates. ‘I didn’t even tell you where I went.’
This time, it was Jungkook who laughed. ‘Hyung. You always come here when you need to get away.’
Hoseok looked at them for a long moment.
Took in the way Jungkook’s hair was slightly damp at the temples. The way Taehyung was still slightly catching his breath, his chest heaving ever so subtly.
They weren’t here because they wanted something from him.
They were here for him.
After he had practically left them behind.
He cast them an apologetic look. ‘I just needed – space.’
Taehyung smiled, ‘We know, hyung.’
‘We’re not here to crowd you’, Jungkook added quietly. ‘Just to – be there. In case you don’t want to be alone anymore.’
Just to be there.
In case you don’t want to be alone anymore.
Suddenly, Hoseok didn’t want to be alone anymore.
Didn’t want to dance alone anymore.
He sighed softly. ‘Thank you’, he finally replied. ‘For coming. And –‘, he hesitated for only a second before he continued, ‘and for not saying anything when you came in. For just – letting me be for a while. I needed it.’
‘Dancing has always been your outlet’, Jungkook pointed out with a tiny smile.
Hoseok nodded. ‘It has been.’ He paused again, contemplating for a moment. ‘Still is, I guess.’
Silence settled over them as all three got lost in thought. It wasn’t the heavy type of silence. There was something soft in it, something tender.
Vulnerable.
It was Taehyung who finally spoke up again, his voice hesitant, as if not sure he could or should voice what was on his mind. ‘Do you ever worry we might forget the steps?’
Hoseok blinked, trying to catch up with his train of thought. Jungkook was faster with him, turning to look at Taehyung. ‘You mean the choreographies?’
A sigh escaped Taehyung as he nodded. ‘Yeah. Just like – all of that. The dance moves. The transitions. The formations. All of it.’ His voice began to tremble slightly, wide eyes searching for reassurance in Hoseok’s own as the elder tried to process what he was hearing. ‘Hyung, if we forget – if we forget, does it mean that it is over?’
Hoseok flinched.
Jungkook stiffened.
The question hung in the air, heavy, laden.
If we forget, does it mean it’s over?
Did it?
Choreographies could be rehearsed.
Relearned.
And yet, Hoseok got what Taehyung was playing at.
If they forgot, didn’t that mean they stopped caring?
If they stopped caring, was it even possible to bring it back to life?
The thought alone hurt.
‘I still run them through my head a lot’, Jungkook finally confessed quietly. ‘Just to make sure they are still there.’
‘Same here.’ Hoseok’s voice sounded rougher than usual.
‘So do I’, Taehyung sighed ever so softly. ‘But I already feel like some parts are missing. Don’t you?’
Again, the silence that followed seemed to suffocate them.
Hoseok couldn’t stand it.
None of them wanted to forget.
None of them wanted for things to end.
He glanced at the sound system, then at his two mates. ‘Then let’s not forget’, he said softly.
Taehyung’s eyes lit up almost instantly. ‘You mean-‘
Hoseok nodded. ‘Let’s not forget’, he repeated with a determined smile. ‘Let’s practice.’
‘Are you serious, hyung?’ There was a slight tremor in Jungkook’s voice that only steeled Hoseok’s resolve.
‘Dead serious’, he replied with a firm nod towards the sound system. ‘Tell me which one you want to start with.’
Taehyung and Jungkook exchanged a look.
‘Your choice, hyung’, Jungkook finally replied, a hint of excitement in his eyes. ‘But make it hard.’
‘Make it hurt’, Taehyung's eyes held a devilish gleam now.
Hoseok swallowed yet again, glared at his younger mates and then turned towards the sound system.
It only took him a couple of seconds to choose a song.
Danger.
Because his devious mates had just set off all sorts of warning bells in his head.
The beat dropped.
Within seconds, they were in position, determination edged into their expressions.
They would not forget.
