As the guys pack and get ready for the flight the next morning I check in on Yoongi. He's abrupt, but he says he's fine, so I trust his word.
Instead I go back to making sure the maknae line gets the required attention. Helping Jungkook with packing up his electronics, our hands grazing each other. Giving Jimin morning cuddles to wake up. Taehyung assisting me in doing last minute checks before we all head to the elevators. I get down on all fours and search under the couch, the tables, the beds. Earbuds are found, lost earrings from sleeping in them are discovered in the bedding, toothbrushes are quickly added to already packed suitcases, and I hold Taehyung's hand as we get into the vehicles.
There's one more concert here, an early one, before we leave later in the evening. This time I am to hang out with the makeup noonas while the guys sing and dance their hearts out for their ARMY. As we approach the venue I can see the crowds waiting to get in. The vehicles take a route around the back before we get within even three blocks of the crowd of ARMY and avoid being surrounded by eager fans.
****
The crowd is... not wild, but sort of like that? The controlled enthusiasm emanating from the sea of bodies is like a wave of energy. I can see how the guys get hyped up for their fans, for being on stage.
I know that I would drown in that energy, but I can see how they react the way they do. It makes me aware of just how different we are. It takes a certain type, a particular personality to be someone who takes a stage, feeds off the crowd and grows stronger from it. I am in awe, watching the monitors in the back room. The set up is almost the same as before, blow-up beds are off to one side, a buffet of local fare staying warmed along the wall opposite the doors to the room. This time there's no couch, but instead tables and chairs are scattered in the large space, allowing people to eat and relax in quiet or together as they choose.
I've grabbed one of the chairs and gathered with a few of the noonas and one of the guards as we sit closer to the monitor showing the live feed off a stationary camera. We cheer along with the crowd, doing the fan chant occasionally. Someone occasionally brings over water or a plate of finger foods and we all nibble and sip, not daring to tear our eyes away.
One of the noonas nudges me, pointing to Hoseok. She proudly mentions that her makeup on him is staying despite him sweating. I nod, shooting her an admiring glance. The others chime in, broken English statements using the rest of their names and I smile, realizing that this is the first time they've added me to their circle. With high fives all around for their impressive work I get up to find something sweet to share with them, missing something important.
A gasp from the group surrounding the monitor and Yoongi's stage name said by several voices and I turn to see Jimin helping Yoongi stand up.
I quickly return to the tv, my hunt for sweets forgotten. As I try to focus on what happened to Yoongi the guys move out of camera range. There's a lot of Korean chatter around me, and I remind myself to step up my learning process as I try to patiently wait for the guys to come back into view of the camera.
It's as we hear a commotion from the hallway outside that I realize the stage show has changed.
****
Yoongi falls out of the hold two of the dancers have on him, collapsing onto the air mattress beneath him. The agony on his face is obvious to everyone there. He grasps his shoulder wincing at even his own touch.
Even as people gather around his mattress Manager Sejin strides in, harshly ordering people in their native tongue. The noonas quickly leave, heading to the makeup room to wait and keep out from under foot. The guards usher the on-call doctor in, checking to make sure Yoongi didn't do severe damage to himself.
I hide in a corner, my worried eyes following the situation. The doctor moves his arm and shoulder slowly and carefully in rotations and flexes, Yoongi grunting and cursing in Korean as he reaches his pain threshold over and over. When the doctor turns to Manager Sejin to explain what he's figured out Yoongi's eyes meet mine. His pain calls out to me, making me step closer before I check myself, reality crashing in.
We aren't alone. While it's known I am important to BTS I doubt it has been announced to everyone here. I can't break their shell, their separation from everyone else's opinion of them.
Yoongi notices, though, and grunts something in a Daegu accent. The way Manager Sejin nods though, it seems as if it was an order. Quickly the room is emptied of everyone except Yoongi and I.
A moment's hesitation is shattered at his grunt of pain, his face twisting in agony as he bites back more curses. I quickly stride to him, all but landing on my knees at his head on the air bed when I reach his side. My hands go to his hair, his face, his shoulder.
As the pain slowly recedes from his gaze he struggles to sit up, and I do my best to assist. Once seated he starts the action of removing his shirt, and with his pleading gaze I don't even hesitate to help.
With his skin bared to me I can see the bruise starting along his back. Deep greens and purples are forming, swelling looking like it's going to push his shoulder forward. Gently touching it causes him to wince, but he leans his head on my chest, breathing to control the pain.
We can hear Namjoon from the other side of the door, checking in on Yoongi's condition with Manager Sejin, who I guess decided to stand guard.
'It's my bum shoulder too, damn it.' Yoongi mumbles under his breath. I wince and nod, a tear escaping in empathy. I've had many bruises growing up, everyone does, but a bum shoulder is something else.
After about 20 minutes or so he sits up carefully, rolling his neck, checking his good shoulder against his bum one. A wince here and there, but it seems as if most of his motion is almost back. With a nod he motions for his shirt, which I help put on him.
A deep breath and he stands up. He quietly strides to the door and knocks on it. Manager Sejin says something that Yoongi lowly responds to, and the door is opened. With Yoongi nodding his thanks to me he heads back to the stage... and I collapse back to sitting on the air mattress, silently sobbing in worry for him, for them.
Manager Sejin sees me, and considers. Coming up to me he guides me to another room, one with the changes of clothes, and lets me rest in there, lets me get myself back under control.
****
I find myself fascinated with how fast the guys change their outfits. You'd think every eye would ogle them as they changes clothes, shoes, mics. It becomes obvious that speed is the name of the game in this room, and as I am not assisting or in the way of anyone I am ignored for the utilitarian job of dressing them up like dolls.
It's actually almost peaceful as I watch them come in, sometimes in ones or twos, sometimes crowding in all together, to fit the theme of the next round of music. Yoongi doesn't even seem like he got hurt, going through the changes with only the littlest winces as he adds stiff jackets or a noona wipes sweat off his back and shoulders before changing him into an almost sheer shirt.
It's with a bit of shock I notice that the color in his shoulder is the barest green, fading into his skin color. The deeper purples and greens having faded. Jimin worries over him, Namjoon keeps an eye on him as they change, even Jungkook gently touches him when he wants his attention, but it almost seems as if nothing of consequence happened.
By the end of the show everyone is wiped out. I am back in the main room, watching the buffet get demolished. This is the last big meal they have before heading over to the airport to fly again. Curious I check the schedule. One more stop before we head to South Korea. Just a day or two more and I will see their main spaces... the Big Hit building, their dorm, their city.
I gather my courage and go get a plate to sit down and eat with everyone.
****
This flight I was supposed to sit with Jimin. I do sit between him and Jungkook on the way to the airport, with Jungkook being my walking buddy again. But, instead I find that Jimin has traded seats with Yoongi. A smile and a concerned look at his hyung tells me why. He is worried that he needs more time with me to heal.
Settling down next to him Yoongi doesn't pull out his usual neck pillow, opting to hold my hand in his large warm one instead. The climb up has his thumb drawing circles on my hand, both soothing and stirring.
Once we have climbed up to the highest the plane will go this flight the seatbelt signs are turned off and Yoongi turns to me.
'Can you check my shoulders?' He asks.
'Here?' I whisper, shocked.
Chuckling he shakes his head. 'I was thinking of heading to the bathroom up front. I know we need better lighting, and more space to really figure this out.' I nod and start down the aisle forward, Yoongi following.
Once inside he closes the door behind us and starts to disrobe. I carefully fold his jacket, sweater, and undershirt as he removes them, placing them on the lid of the toilet to keep them neat and out of the way. He turns around and I gently probe his shoulder, being extra aware of any movements that seem like winces, or signs of pain.
Instead he groans, lowly, sexually. My eyes widen, shocked. I palm his shoulder, stroking his back and he curves into my touch, growling his frustration. His voice reverberating in my inner ear has my mind thinking things I probably shouldn't in this public bathroom, but my answering whimper is unconscious, causing his head to whip around. As he slowly turns, his gaze on mine, his eyes darken as my hand smooths it's way from his shoulder to his pecs. I don't remember moving my other hand up but when he draws both of my hands from his chest to his hips I find myself being pushed back against the wall, our mouths meshing. Our tongues stroke and tease, my whimpers meeting his groans as he tastes my mouth. His hands are still on mine at his hips, and he drags one hand to the front, making my hand unsnap his pants, lower zipper over his already hard bulge.
I go to lower myself to his waist, ready to suckle and slurp at him, but he stops me, murmuring in Hangul before kissing me again. The kiss deepens, becomes harder, rougher. He grinds against my hand, his hand holding mine still as he thrusts into it, his underwear barely covering him. His pants sag to his knees he pushes them in between my legs, moving my held hand to above my head as he leans his full form against me, slowly drawing circles with his pelvis against mine. His length is hot and pulsing, my own center echoing the pulse in response. Even with my eyes closed I can see his light pulsing as we fall further into this needy rut.
I start twisting against him, my center dripping with need and he grunts in reaction, using the hand not holding mine up to slip my leggings and underwear down to my knees. Suddenly I am spun around, my chest to the wall. My hips are grabbed and pulled away, pulling me off balance. As I lean against the wall to keep from falling I feel Yoongi's fingers stroking my lips, gently probing to find my clit. 'You are soaking, Miss, is this for me?' He murmurs in my ear, his chest brushing my back. At my nod and skittering breath he thrusts two fingers into me, his thumb drawing circles around my clit. His pace changes as I react, finding how I feel about his attention and actions. When he likes how I am responding he keeps to it, slowly building speed and intensity, and I can feel my orgasm in my veins ready to pour over my sanity. Just like with Namjoon he tells me to come and I fall apart, my knees almost buckling at the intensity of the orgasm as his fingers are pulling out of me.
As I gasp for air, coming back to reality his cock is sliding between my lips, becoming fully soaked in my release. His grunts tell me he has been waiting less than patiently for me to come back to myself. With my nod he pulls back and holds himself steady as he lines up with my dripping core.
His first stroke in does me in. Again I come, unable to keep from keening. His hand quickly wraps around to cover my mouth, two fingers finding their way into my mouth to muffle my sounds. As I find my way back to reality I start to suckle on his fingers, making him grunt in reaction. His strokes, long and slow as I was coming, speed up, becoming rougher. I can't spread my legs too far because of my leggings around my knees, but he can't either, and it seems as if he appreciates the limitations created as his hips bounce against my butt repeatedly, harder and harder. He thrusts into my center, and the way his cock drags along my soaked and slippery walls is driving him faster, harder, further.
His tip stroking the front wall of my depths is driving me insane. I can feel him twitching, throbbing as he gets closer to his orgasm, and it triggers mine yet again. I suck hard on the fingers in my mouth, clenching around him as I am blinded by yet another mind-blowing jump off the cliff into ecstasy and he lowly repeats curses in Korean as he releases in me.
Our heavy breathing slows and he gently removes himself from me, helping me steady myself. After he is sure I won't fall and hurt myself he reaches around to find the toilet paper, cleaning us up. The dripping wetness on the insides of my thighs are echoed by the soaked skin on the front of his legs.
After we get at least dry and dressed again I pause to kiss him, surprising him. He quickly closes his eyes though, enjoying the feel of my lips on his, his tongue stroking mine. His light has steadied, the pulse even and tempered, but brighter than before, like now everyone else's.