Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
˚｡⋆ ⊹˚ ☁︎ ˚⊹ ⋆｡˚
The red recording light on the corner of the camera lens glows a steady, unblinking crimson. Seokjin hardly notices it anymore after all these years, the silent black machine tracking his movements as he shifts deeper into the plush cushions of the studio sofa.
Outside the window, the late afternoon sun stretches long shadows across the driveway of the American rental house, but inside, the room remains cool and dim, carrying the faint smell of lingering coffee and the traces of a long day spent working.
Seokjin pulls the sleeves of his dark, cozy sweater down over his knuckles, watching a producer adjust levels on the massive mixing console across the room. The new Arirang album is nearly finished, most of the tracks already polished and arranged by the time he arrived, leaving him to add his voice to the final pieces that still needed him.
He tries not to think too much about the timing. About arriving after everyone else had already spent weeks building something together. About the strange feeling of stepping into a room where the shape of the story had already been decided.
Taehyung sits beside him, legs sprawled out comfortably, humming absentmindedly along to a playback track leaking from the headphones of one of the producers working at the console.
Seokjin lets out a soft, breathy laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he turns toward him.
"I honestly don't even know what I'm doing here," Seokjin says casually, chuckling. His voice carries that familiar self-deprecating edge, the same one he's used for years whenever he doesn't know how to admit something is bothering him.
Taehyung doesn't laugh immediately.
His dark eyes soften as he looks over.
"Don't say that, hyung," he murmurs, reaching out affectionately to squeeze Seokjin's cheeks with his large hand, squishing his face playfully. "Everyone feels lost, to be honest."
Seokjin swats his hand away with a quiet laugh, shaking his head as Taehyung grins and settles back into the cushions.
For a moment, the heaviness in his chest feels a little lighter.
Not gone. Just quieter.
Later that evening, the heavy hum of the studio gives way to the quiet sanctuary of Jungkook's bedroom.
Seokjin is completely sprawled out across the mattress, his face buried halfway into the pillow while one heavy arm is thrown lazily over Jungkook's stomach. Jungkook is half leaning against the headboard, quietly scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing down at the older man beside him.
It is a familiar kind of silence between them, the kind that does not need to be filled just because two people are awake in the same room.
Faintly through the thin walls, the steady, rhythmic strum of Yoongi playing his electric guitar drifts into the room.
Seokjin has lost count of how many hours Yoongi has been playing that exact same riff, running it over and over again with meticulous stubbornness, but tonight it serves as nothing more than a low, comforting lullaby.
Every few minutes the melody changes slightly. A different note. A different rhythm. Yoongi searching, always searching, until something finally sounds right.
"Hyung," Jungkook whispers softly, looking down from his screen.
Seokjin hums in response, barely lifting his head from the pillow.
"How are you feeling?"
There is a pause.
Long enough that Jungkook thinks Seokjin might not answer.
"Lost," Seokjin finally mumbles, his voice muffled against the pillow.
Jungkook's expression softens.
"I'm not in my best moment," Seokjin continues quietly. "I'm tired, but..." He exhales, the sound almost a laugh. "You know. Life goes on."
Jungkook doesn't immediately tell him everything will be okay. He knows Seokjin well enough to understand that sometimes comfort isn't about fixing something. Sometimes it is just about staying.
"Yeah," Jungkook says softly.
The older man turns his head slightly.
"That's it? Just yeah?"
A small smile appears on Jungkook's face.
"What do you want me to say?"
Seokjin thinks about it.
Nothing comes.
Because maybe, right now, he doesn't need the perfect words.
Maybe he just needs someone sitting beside him while the world keeps moving.
Outside the room, Yoongi's guitar starts the same riff again.
By the next afternoon, the casual atmosphere of the house shifts into the high-pressure environment of the main production room.
The boys are gathered around the studio, working through the final Arirang tracks. The energy is different here, less relaxed, more focused. Everyone is tired, but no one wants to be the person who lets the last details slip.
Namjoon stands by the central console, leaning over the soundboard with a furrowed brow, pointing toward a waveform on the screen.
"We need to punch up the bridge on this one," Namjoon says, his voice cutting through the chatter.
The room immediately shifts into work mode.
The speakers pulse with a heavy, atmospheric instrumental track. They spend the next few hours around the console, rearranging vocal lines, debating harmonies, and adjusting small details that most people would never notice.
A fraction of a second here. A different vocal texture there. A breath left in the recording instead of edited out.
Layer by layer, the song begins to take shape until the chorus swells with a rich depth.
Only when the arrangement feels complete does anyone finally move toward the recording booth.
When it is time to record the vocals for Like Animals, Seokjin steps inside the glass booth, slipping his headphones over his ears.
Outside the glass, Yoongi sits comfortably in the producer's chair, tapping a pencil against the desk as he takes over the direction.
"Alright, hyung, let's work on the vocal breakdown," Yoongi's voice crackles through Seokjin's headphones.
"The instrumental drops out here, so I need your harmonies to carry the space. Keep them clean, let them float behind Tae's line, then open them up under Jungkook's."
Seokjin nods, drawing in a slow breath.
Then the music starts.
As the track strips itself bare, leaving only the faint click of the metronome in his ears, Seokjin closes his eyes and sings.
His voice rises in long, crystalline harmonies, weaving through the silence like a distant siren.
One layer becomes two, then three, each take carefully stacked until they bloom into an ethereal chorus, filling the studio and wrapping around the voices that would soon join his.
The first take is already good.
The second is better.
By the fourth, Seokjin stops thinking about whether he belongs there. He is simply singing.
Outside the booth, Yoongi's pencil stills against the notebook in his lap.
He watches the waveform finish scrolling across the monitor without saying anything.
Then he rewinds the take.
Listens again.
And again.
Not because something is wrong.
Because something about it is exactly right.
Yoongi leans back, a genuine smile slipping onto his face. It lasts only a moment before settling into the familiar smirk that makes the corners of his eyes crease.
Seokjin catches it through the glass, and a quiet warmth spreads through his chest.
Yoongi presses the talkback button.
"...Yeah."
The single word hangs in the air for a beat before he lets out a soft laugh.
"That was beautiful, hyung."
He glances back at the session on the screen, already picturing the finished mix.
"Once those harmonies are stacked behind Tae and Jungkook..." He shakes his head, unable to hide his grin. "It's exactly what this section needed."
Seokjin slides one side of his headphones off his ear, the corners of his mouth lifting.
"So... I'm amazing?"
"I wasn't going to say it," Yoongi deadpans, "but since you brought it up."
Seokjin laughs.
The sound pulls a small smile from Yoongi before he turns back toward the monitors.
Yoongi scrubs through the session until the ending plays. The rough guitar line he'd been shaping all week spills through the speakers.
"...I can hear it now," he murmurs, almost to himself.
His grin widens.
"This one's making the album."
"You sound pretty confident."
"I am." Yoongi folds his arms, never taking his eyes off the screen. "If anyone tries to cut this track, they're going to have to argue with me first."
Seokjin watches him for a moment.
Min Yoongi does not say things he doesn't mean.
And somehow, that makes the compliment feel heavier than anything else anyone could have said.
˚｡⋆ ⊹˚ ☁︎ ˚⊹ ⋆｡˚
The days in the house moved strangely.
Everything was busy, yet somehow slow. There were always voices coming from different rooms, someone practicing a melody, someone laughing over a joke, someone calling another member because they needed help with something. It felt familiar, almost like nothing had changed.
And yet Seokjin still felt like he had arrived halfway through a story everyone else had already started writing.
He tried not to let it bother him.
He was used to catching up. He had spent his entire life working hard, adjusting, arriving when he needed to arrive and giving everything he had once he was there.
But this time felt different.
Maybe because he was tired.
Maybe because, for the first time in a long time, there was no clear picture waiting for him after all of this.
The relationship he had believed would become something permanent had ended quietly. There had been no huge fight, no betrayal, no dramatic reason to hate each other. That almost made it harder.
They had loved each other. They had tried. And somehow, after four years, they had still reached the same conclusion. Their lives were moving in different directions.
Seokjin understood it, he really did, but understanding something did not mean it didn't hurt.
He had spent so much time believing that after the military, after finishing another chapter of his life, he would finally have the chance to build something stable. A normal relationship. A home. Maybe even a family one day.
Then suddenly, he was back at the beginning again.
Except now he was older, busier, and more aware of how difficult that dream would actually be.
Two days before he was scheduled to leave, one of the producers arrived at the house with a tiny surprise, his two-year-old son.
The moment the door opened and the little boy appeared, the entire atmosphere changed.
"Wait, is that your baby?" Jimin immediately stood up, his face lighting up.
Taehyung was already smiling before the producer had even finished introducing him.
"Oh my god, look at him."
Within seconds, everyone had gathered around.
Seokjin stayed slightly behind at first, watching the scene unfold.
Jimin was completely fascinated, making exaggerated expressions to make the little boy laugh. Taehyung was even more enthusiastic, carefully holding his tiny hand and making him wave at everyone in the room.
"Say hello," Taehyung whispered. "Say hello to everyone."
The baby giggled, his small fingers curling around Taehyung's.
Seokjin smiled without realizing it. There was something about watching them that made his chest feel strangely warm.
Jimin and Taehyung had always been affectionate, always ready to care for someone else. Seeing them with a child made that side of them even more obvious.
Taehyung noticed him watching. "Hyung," he called. "Do you want to hold him?"
Seokjin immediately shook his head. "No, no. I'm okay."
"Hyung."
"What?"
"You are literally standing there looking like you want to hold him."
"I am not."
"You are."
Seokjin laughed, that familiar windshield-wiper laugh escaping before he could stop it.
"Fine. Give him here."
Taehyung carefully passed the child into his arms.
For a moment, Seokjin became completely still.
The little boy looked up at him with curious eyes, then reached out and grabbed his finger.
Something in Seokjin's expression softened.
"Hey," he whispered. His voice changed without him noticing, becoming gentler. "Who are you? Hm?"
The baby continued holding his finger tightly.
"You have a strong grip. Are you trying to tell me something?"
The room filled with quiet laughter.
From across the room, Yoongi watched.
He had seen Seokjin in countless situations; on stage, in interviews, during rehearsals when everyone was exhausted, making everyone laugh when the atmosphere became too serious, but this was different. There was no performance, no exaggerated reaction, no joke, just Seokjin.
Jimin noticed too. "Hyung," he said softly. "You would be a great dad."
Seokjin looked up, for a second, he did not know how to answer. Then he smiled.
"Honestly?" he said softly, "If I wasn't here right now..." He glanced down at the baby holding his finger. "I think I would want to build a family."
The words came out naturally, almost like he had been carrying them around for a long time. "When I was in the military, I thought about it a lot." He smiled faintly. "I had all this time to think about what I wanted after everything slowed down."
His thumb gently brushed over the baby's hand. "But then I came back. And now..." He paused. "After my last relationship ended, I don't know anymore." The room stayed quiet.
A quiet shadow crossed his features, memory pulling him back to the silent apartment he had shared with Lee Yikyung. They had met years ago through mutual circles, two familiar faces navigating the public eye, and somewhere along the way, a quiet friendship had blossomed into something more. Yikyung had been a steady anchor during the chaotic months leading up to Seokjin's enlistment, the actor always ready with a warm laugh and a comforting embrace behind closed doors where no cameras could reach. They had built something genuine, or at least Seokjin had truly believed they had, promising to weather the long separation of the military together. But four years of divided worlds, endless schedules, and mounting silence had slowly eroded what they had built. When they finally sat down to end it, there were no screams or shattered plates, only the crushing realization that they had grown into strangers who no longer fit into each other's lives.
Seokjin looked down. "Maybe that kind of life just isn't for me."
"Hyung," Jimin said softly. Seokjin shook his head with a small smile.
"It's okay. Really." He tried to make it lighter.
"Maybe I should just become one of those people who doesn't believe in commitment anymore."
Taehyung frowned. "You?"
"Why not?"
"Because you are literally the most committed person I know."
Everyone laughed.
Seokjin smiled, but his expression remained thoughtful.
"There is also the whole gene thing."
The members exchanged looks, not surprised, just familiar. They had heard about it before.
It was not some shocking revelation between them. It was one of those strange personal things that had become background knowledge after years of friendship.
The gene was something doctors had been studying because of how unusual it was. In his family, there had been cases connected to increased fertility in men, something extremely rare and still not fully understood.
Years ago, after learning more about his family history, Seokjin had gone to a specialist. The doctor worked primarily with men's health but had experience with unusual genetic cases like his. The results had been complicated.
The gene existed, but the chances of it activating were very low, around five percent.
The doctor had reassured him that there was no reason to panic, especially because nothing had happened before. Still, knowing something existed was different from completely forgetting about it.
Seokjin had accepted it, he was not afraid. It was simply another unusual thing about him.
"Anyway," he continued, "it's not like I'm planning my future around that."
He looked around the room. "I'm tired and busy. We are about to start touring again." He laughed quietly. "And honestly? I think I'm too old to start meeting random people and trying to figure out if they are serious or not."
"Hyung, you're not that old," Jungkook immediately protested.
Seokjin pointed at him. "Thank you. That was the correct answer."
Jungkook smiled.
"But you know what I mean." He looked down at the baby again. "Maybe a family isn't something I get to have."
Before anyone could answer, the little boy suddenly tightened his grip on Seokjin's finger.
When Seokjin carefully tried to pass him back to Jimin, the baby immediately leaned toward him, making a small unhappy sound.
Then, with the confidence only a toddler could have, he said: "Omma."
Everyone froze. Then the room exploded.
"Oh!"Taehyung covered his mouth, laughing.
Jimin took the baby back carefully.
"Aw, so cute." He looked at Seokjin with a teasing smile. "Hyung, the baby claimed you as his mother."
Seokjin blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You would be a great mother, hyung."
Seokjin placed a hand over his chest dramatically. "Mother?"
Jimin laughed. "You heard him."
Seokjin looked offended for exactly two seconds before smiling.
"You think so?"
The joke was there, but underneath it, there was a small part of him that wanted to believe it.
Before he could say anything else, the producer returned to rescue his son, apologizing as everyone reluctantly handed the baby back and the room slowly returned to normal.
Later, when everyone was busy again, Yoongi found Seokjin outside.
"You know," Yoongi said casually, both of them now sitting in the wooden beach chairs in the garden, "Jimin wasn't wrong."
Seokjin looked over. "About me being called a mother?"
Yoongi laughed quietly. "No."
A small smile appeared on his face. "About you being good with kids."
Seokjin looked away. "I just like taking care of people."
"I know."
The answer came too quickly.
Seokjin looked at him. Yoongi shrugged.
"You always have."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Seokjin sighed.
"I don't know, Yoongs."
He looked toward the house.
"I think maybe people like us don't really get normal relationships."
Yoongi listened.
"We're always busy. Always traveling. Always surrounded by people, but somehow never have time."
He nodded slowly. "It's difficult."
"Exactly." Seokjin smiled sadly. "Besides, people nowadays don't seem to want commitment anymore. So maybe I should just stop expecting something different and adapt."
Yoongi didn't answer immediately.
For the first time, he actually let himself think about it.
They were older now. Their lives weren't getting simpler.
Meeting someone new, building trust, finding someone willing to understand their world, starting a family... It sounded almost impossible.
And maybe that was why Seokjin's words stayed with him.
Maybe people like them weren't meant to have ordinary things.
Two days later, Seokjin left.
He hugged everyone goodbye at the door, offering his usual bright smile, promising he would call soon and promising he would see all of them back home.
Yoongi stood among the group, hands tucked into his pockets, smiling with the easy familiarity of a bandmate who had known Seokjin for over a decade.
Once Seokjin was gone and the house settled back into a different kind of quiet, Yoongi found himself replaying that afternoon.
Over the following weeks, while they were separated by their schedules, Seokjin's words kept returning to him.
They were getting older. Their lives weren't going to become less complicated. If anything, the opposite was true.
Yoongi thought about what Seokjin had said about meeting new people, about commitment, about how difficult it was to build something serious when neither of them had the time to live like ordinary people.
Maybe Seokjin was right.
Maybe people really didn't want the same things anymore. Maybe expecting someone to come along, understand their schedules and their lives, stay committed through the distance, and eventually want the same future was asking for too much.
And Yoongi wasn't particularly interested in spending what little free time he had searching for someone new.
He had never been the type for casual relationships either. It had simply never appealed to him enough to bother. But maybe that didn't mean he had to keep looking for something serious.
Maybe he could just stop expecting anything serious at all.
In a way, he had given up on dating a long time ago. He had even decided to bring his parents to live with him again before going to the military. At that point, his only real concern had been finishing his public service and going back to work with Bangtan.
The thought was strange enough that Yoongi actually laughed quietly to himself.
Because when he thought about who he could possibly do something like that with, the answer that came to mind was Seokjin.
He had known Seokjin for more than a decade.
His only hyung. His friend. Someone he trusted enough to sit beside in silence, argue with over stupid things, share food with, complain to, or simply spend entire days around without ever getting tired of him.
Everyone knew Seokjin was handsome. The entire world was well aware of that.
But Yoongi had never really thought much about it.
Not like that.
Not until now.
He had never viewed Seokjin through a lens of desire, never let his mind wander down that specific path. There had simply never been a reason to.
Seokjin was Seokjin.
That was all.
But maybe that was exactly what made the idea work.
If they ever decided to try something casual, there would be no awkward introductions, no pretending to be interested in someone they barely knew, no explaining their schedules or their lives to a stranger.
They already knew each other.
They trusted each other.
And it seemed like neither of them was looking for anything serious anymore.
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, staring at the unfinished track on his monitor.
It was only an idea.
A ridiculous one, probably.
Still, he found himself thinking about it again.
And again.
Not because he wanted Seokjin.
Just because, if they were both going to stop looking for something they didn't have time for, maybe there was no reason they couldn't make things a little easier for themselves.
˚｡⋆ ⊹˚ ☁︎ ˚⊹ ⋆｡˚