To What Was Ours

i (seokjin)

"A dream?"

His spine reacted. He suddenly realized Yoongi's voice had been shaking the whole time.

"Yeah. A dream."

Sometimes, they just knew each other. Even if they didn't, it was the most reasonable explanation. Jin had just had a dream, and Yoongi had just known. Everything was fine.

"I'm gonna sit out here, too."

He sat and neither spoke. If any light was on, the elder could've seen how the producer's hands trembled. How sweat plastered his shirt to his chest. How a single word danced around his head.

Despite this, Yoongi asked first, anyway.

"You okay?"

Jungkook's voice echoed and echoed.

"I don't know."

Silence resumed. He closed his eyes and saw white, so he tried to blink as little as possible. Thoughts of a fifteen-year-old sitting with his back straight and eyes wide. Suddenly his eyes began to burn, and it was not from prolonged exposure to air. Forget, Seokjin, he told himself. You have to forget.

Light flooded into the room, catching both off guard. Without a word, Hoseok marched from the hallway, straight into the kitchen. A glimpse of his face showed an agonized expression. "Hobi?" Jin called, but the dancer did not reply. The faucet began to run, water splashing down the drain, then into a cup.

Yoongi managed a strangled smile towards his older brother, his eyes puffy. "Seems like everyone's coming out in order."

Appreciating the light joke, Jin smiled in return. "If Namjoon-ah is next, I'm going to get freaked out."

As if wasn't still trembling and betraying himself with how hard he was holding onto Jungkook's fraying call.

Both thought that he hadn't heard Jin speak, but, he replied as soon as he settled down next to Yoongi, bare chest glistening. His eyes remained miserable. "I didn't plan to. I haven't dreamt for a long time."

Seokjin tried not to think of blank walls.

Instead, he thought of how he could coax all three of them back into bed without acknowledging anything about the odd timing, and without asking any questions. They had a schedule tomorrow, anyway. Hoseok had simply had a dream.

He almost thinks to himself that it's normal - Jungkook died only yesterday. Then he remembers that it's been a year and something inside of him crumples and wilts. Instead of herding them up, he stayed a sheep, picking at his nails as Hoseok turned on the T.V and flickered through channels, purposely avoiding all news stations. (All they delivered was tragedy, anyway.) He settled on an action movie with enough noise to drown out everything in their heads.

Even as luxury cars crashed and exploded, and the hero saved a screaming pretty woman, a mosquito hummed Hyung, Hyung, in his ear. The flower within him attempted to bloom again but the season was all wrong.

"This movie sucks," he chuckled, receiving a few murmurs in reply. "But I think Jungkook would've like it."

He didn't say the last part aloud. It didn't matter because Jungkook wouldn't appear curled in next to him and beg him to make popcorn. He found himself tracing imaginary tattoos on his arm as he waited for the movie to end with a kiss and dramatic drive into the sunset.

The first loud thump he paid no mind to. Could've been anything, the house settling, one of the younger's accidentally kicking the wall in their sleep. The next, which sounded more like a muffled shout, perturbed him some, yet, he definitely had heard more concerning things in the night. Seven - no, six - people in one house called for interesting circumstances.