Yoongi really shouldn't have been all that surprised when he sat up so fast he nearly somersaulted off his bed, stumbled into the living room, and found all of his members already gathered in various states of distress.
But he was. His mind ran overtime for an answer, a logical answer that would soothe them all and allow them to drift back off into a peaceful, uninterrupted, sleep; yet there was nothing. They looked up to him with wide, fearful, eyes, hoping he could provide stability, wondering what he had to say if he was going to speak. A wave of terrible deja vu hit him with such force he could do nothing but lower himself onto the floor, praying he had no news to deliver.
The confusion from earlier faded. He knew exactly what they meant when he left when he banged and begged against a glass mirror that would not shatter no matter how much force he applied. The strain on his heart remained ever consistent.
No one was crying, like before, and though they were upset, confusion lined their features more prominently. Almost curiosity in Namjoon's eyes, as he ran a shaky hand through his sleep tousled hair. Yoongi glanced to Hoseok's phone, on the coffee table and lit with a notification, and saw two hours had passed since he had first awoken. Soon, the sun would rise. If their next discussion went right, Jungkook's fearful voice would fade when morning came, along with every question they could possibly ask.
"What the hell is going on?" Namjoon rasped, clawing the fabric of the couch.
"Are we all drugged, or something?" Seokjin, standing and shifting his weight from foot to foot, felt his forehead for fever whilst speaking. "Did someone slip something into our drinks?"
It was a genuine concern. None had ever luckily experienced such an attack, but the threat still loomed. Jimin checked his heart, pulse, head, unsure where the symptoms would lie. "I don't know. I feel - fine, for everything that's happened. I've felt fine all day. That felt too real, though. I obviously don't know anything but I'd think that a drugged dream would be a lot more surreal."
Yoongi didn't know a lot about drugs. However, he was leaning towards one hundred percent positive that no pill or powder existed that caused their specific, coordinated, entirely mind-breaking symptoms. At least without any other indications. Nonetheless, if anyone with enough bottled anger to pursue the action was able to get close enough to succeed, he figured that they would aim for something more dangerous, possibly life-threatening, instead of disrupting a good night's sleep.
Hoseok shook his head, quick to deny. "That felt real. There's no way that wasn't."
"How would it be? We were dreaming. You can't go anywhere when you're dreaming." Despite the bite in his voice, Namjoon's eyes flickered back and forth between them all, unsure. "We're all still here, in the dorm."
Taehyung, soaking up the leader's body warmth, nudged his shoulder with his own. Namjoon avoided becoming trapped in a pair of professional-grade puppy eyes. "Yeah, but - but how do you explain this? Have you read a book on this or something?"
Yoongi decided it was his time to speak before everyone went off in different directions. Obviously, because they had started in the exact same room, then they needed to begin from the exact same position. Compasses were only useful if you knew which way you needed to go. Together was the only pathway.
And he had no news to deliver, he reminded himself. He hadn't ran, hadn't gotten thirsty, and hadn't checked his phone. This was no time for reliving trauma.
He pushed himself to his feet, hands out in placating a position, and ignored the rush of a rainy breeze his mind falsified. "Okay, everyone, okay. Take a breath." First guaranteeing he had the whole group's attention, he maintained a calm tone of voice. "Did everyone reach the end?"
Hoseok nodded. "Yeah, it went by a lot quicker this time. It actually felt like I was in control this time."
In sync once more. Comforting, but not exactly relieving.
"I saw all of you guys," Taehyung added. "Again. But clearer this time. Did you see me too?"
His mind cracked open. The scene of all six of them standing in a hexagon replayed. Clear as he was seeing them then, every familiar curve and shadow of face.
"You looked at me and mouthed my name." Jimin pointed to Namjoon, "Hobi-Hyung was reaching out to Seokjinnie-Hyung."
Yoongi could remember that, too. That and
Jungkook's voice becoming increasingly more panicked, echoing around them like the suspense-filled background of a horror movie.
"We were all wearing white, too," the small dancer added on, "like pants, and long sleeve shirts."
That didn't come as clearly, but certainly, he had seen them clothed. He would've remembered quite vividly if they weren't. Probably would've laughed in their faces.
The eldest was last. "I saw grass, I think. Like, at least green below us. I think I was looking down. I might've been barefoot."
Yoongi hadn't been looking down. Instead, he recounted that he had felt tickles beneath his feet. Smelled something fresh. Knew that above him was the sky, and so logically, below him had to be the earth. Logically. He almost laughed at himself.
It was Jimin who broke the next period of silence, his voice a small whimper of fear. "I don't want to go back to sleep."
Yoongi wasn't entirely on either side. He had always been the type of person to push instead of pull, but he was dragging the rope towards him, investigating how long it went, where was the end - who or what was the heavyweight tied there. He vaguely knew that regret would swallow him whole if he didn't at least try. If all of them were there, live and in person, completely conscious and aware, couldn't there be the possibility that maybe . .
"Me neither." His words had none of the tender falter Jimin's were characterized by. He felt his blanch slowly rejuvenate into a pale, rosy, color. "But . ."
"But?" Hoseok raised a brow, prompting him further as he trailed off.
"I feel like we have to."
Attention Yoongi handled like a burning hot plate. He stuttered attempting to defend his sanity. "This - This isn't a coincidence. Somethings happening to us. I feel like we have to figure it out."
Fortunately, he was not alone in his thoughts. Taehyung straightened his back, nodding his head in earnest. There was a fire sparkling in his eyes. "I agree with Yoongi-Hyung. He's right. This isn't happening for no reason."
Whatever Taehyung said, typically went.
Seokjin came around first. Maknae's his biggest weakness. "Well, how would we figure it out?"
"What would we figure out?"
"I don't know, why we're all there? Why - why Kook was afraid - " From his peripheral, he saw the panic building in Namjoon, everything around him falling out of his calm control. "Maybe we just need too. . ."
Tae aided him once more. "Fix the mistake."
"There's no mistake!" All jumped at the sudden outburst from the leader. The anxious stress that he hid beneath a layer of tough skin he could take no longer. "We did everything we could for Jungkook. And even if there was, you can't just fix mistakes. You have to live with them. That's what we've been doing, I don't care what they said."
Was it fear, Yoongi wondered, that he failed Jungkook in some way, and this was his punishment? The intentions behind Namjoon's emotions were found by picking at the holes in skin through tweezers. His skin was smoother than a child's. A needle in a haystack.
Taehyung turned his face to him, a slight pout on his lips. "Jungkook sounded like he needed us."
"He doesn't," Namjoon cut across sharply. "He's dead. He's gone. He wouldn't - how could he -"
But Taehyung was dedicated. He clung both of his hands upon Namjoon's forearm, his shiny eyes piercing into his. Jungkook used to be able to pry anything out of any of them. His name held the same power. "He needs us."
He had him seconds away from becoming putty in his grip. Namjoon faltered, slowly layering their hands. "What could he need? He's gone. He can't - he should be somewhere happy. What if he isn't?"
"Of course he is." Yoongi mended. "But . . "
He could be begging to come home. Afraid that we were never coming to find him. Yoongi knew he stood on a tightrope convincing the others. Creating terrible scenarios in their minds wasn't the way to go. "I just want to know why he's calling for us."
His face must've contorted into something credible. Seokjin waved a prompting hand. "So what do you propose?"
"I think we fall back asleep. And stay asleep. Just until we see where it's taking us."
"I don't try and wake up, I just do." Jimin frowned.
"Subconsciously maybe you are," Hoseok squeezed the inner part of Jimin's thigh. "It's so real, there, it almost feels like I could stay if I wanted to."
All eyes landed on Namjoon, found remarkable interest in the floor. His knuckles were white in the tight clasp of his hands. If it was from genuine engagement or not wanting to be left behind, Yoongi guessed he would never know.
"It couldn't hurt to try." He ran a hand down along his tightened jaw. Smirked without humor. "Knock on wood."
Hopes soaring, the rapper nodded his head towards their bedrooms. "Sleeping must be a requirement."
"I'm too worked up to fall back asleep." Namjoon's posture spoke for itself.
"I'm not that tired, anymore, either." Hoseok's energy supply began to burn at the oddest of times, for an impressing but infuriating amount of time.
An idea flashed through his mind and spilled out of his mouth before he could bite his tongue. Desperation stole morality quicker than sanity.
"There's Taehyung's pills."
He stared in horror at his stomach at his feet.
"Yoongi." Jin was equally abashed, shocked, and angered. Very rarely was that tone of voice ever used, the one that reminded them all that Seokjin was indeed the eldest. Yoongi was only three months younger than he, close to his thirties, and yet shrank under the reprimand. The rest of the group averted their eyes, knowing the extent Jin went with his protectiveness over the younger Daegu native.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sputtered out the apology, the heat slowly building on his face. It wasn't fair, but he avoided glancing at Taehyung's face, fearing the look of betrayal. "I just - I didn't mean to say it. I just thought - what other choice do we have?"
"It's okay, Hyung."
Yoongi's ears were clogged with remorse. All his mind could conjure was Jungkook, the hope that he was there, the possibility of a promise of seeing his smile again, beaming, bright, childlike - "It's Kookie. He's calling out for us and -"
"It's okay, Hyung."
Taehyung raised his voice loud enough to stop Yoongi's rant short. When he looked at him, Taehyung's eyes were already on Seokjin's cheek, not having to repeat, but creating the understanding that he meant it for both of them. The blank cast on his face was icier than the autumn air outside. "Yoongi-Hyung is right. It's Kookie."
Taehyung disappeared into the hall. Yoongi spent the few minutes where he was absent avoiding Seokjin's disappointed gaze.
(He looked too much like Jungkook, sometimes, anyway.)
Instead of returning with the bottle, he had half a dozen or so little white dashes upon his large hand. The length of his appendage understated them further from what they already were.
"They take about twenty minutes to maybe an hour to set in. You guys are clean, so, it'll probably hit you guys really fast. Don't go on your phone or anything, it'll keep you up longer."
It both intrigued and frightened Yoongi that such a small thing could shift the trajectory of entire lives. Guide someone promising, intelligent, good-natured, into run-down alleyways and strained family connections. He never harnessed a prejudice towards addiction, but a wariness of the strength of his own judgment. There was no guarantee that he was resistant to temptation, to recklessness. He imagined himself to suffer silently. And here Taehyung was, handing them out like candy.
He feared the implications of nonchalant behavior more than the confusion, hopelessness, and obsessiveness he witnessed before.
Jimin swallowed his with the water Hoseok filled him immediately after receiving it, refusing to glance at it even once. Fortunately, he didn't seem to harness any grudge against Yoongi. Namjoon, who had a terrible gag reflex, crushed it in his hand, diluted it in water and drank the liquid down like a shot of liquor. His left eye twitched at the taste.
Hoseok and Yoongi waited. Taehyung turned to hand Seokjin a pill. They locked eyes and a million words were spoken. Seokjin apologized with his pupils, while raising a flattened palm, then lowered it as if the tiny white pill resting in the creases weighed a hundred kilograms.
Taehyung didn't swallow his few in their presence - probably the best option. For a long, lonely, while, it was his dark secret, and he had difficulty bringing it to light, even with them. Opening up and asking for help was a monumental task, and Yoongi deemed himself the worst Hyung in the world for exploiting that trust.
But God, Jungkook was there. He needed to apologize, and would without hesitation, except he had to know, first. Know exactly why Jungkook had been there.
He could blame his next actions on his nonexistent impulse control that early, sleepless, morning. He was grieving, after all. He couldn't be any more of an asshole than he already was.
"Are we really doing this?" The eldest dancer asked, trying his best to keep up. "Going back there? What if it works?"
Yoongi pocketed his phone, unable to keep the smug smirk off his mouth.
"It better. Cause I just tweeted the link to the song."
A flash of panic crossed Namjoon's face, before settling into a satisfied, slightly exasperated, grin.
"You used to have restraint."
"I used to care."
At that, Namjoon's sharp eyes dropped, and Yoongi deliberately ignored the thought that crossed his mind.
There was apprehension still in the air. Not one made the first move to leave. Even himself. At first, he thought that maybe it was lasting hesitation, but Yoongi realized that they were all waiting on him. Of course - he was the one to convince them into this. A teasing smile was developing on Jimin's lips, and he wouldn't allow the younger to have anything on him, of all nights especially.
No wonder he hadn't been chosen for leader. "Guys, it's okay. If it works, we'll all be there. And we can figure it out together."
Silence. Uncharacteristically, silence irked him some, now.
"Goodnight, I guess," Namjoon chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
"Yeah, goodnight," Hoseok's lips twitched.
"Night."
Yoongi winced at the iciness in his Hyung's farewell. It was effortless to imagine the freeze over his dark, large, eyes.
Seokjin threw the pill into his mouth, dry, something he was known to hate. Likely a show of his discontentment. He left the room with haste; Taehyung sighed, frustrated, and followed. Shame wasn't enough to describe what crawled around Yoongi's consciousness.
For the third time since nightfall, the group dispersed.
The two closest in age to he left together, separating into their own rooms, but continuing reassurances all the way there. Jimin stroked his neck, offering a smile of reassurance. Easy enough for him, who would return to Taehyung's room. Yoongi stood alone in seconds. He swore that a million hours passed, but looking at the cable box, less than thirty minutes had gone by.
Time continued to catch him off guard.
A short series of gentle taps on his shoulder turned him around. His eyes trailed up a tan figure until they reached Taehyung's. Again, tears were falling from his eyes, slow like molasses, bitter instead of sweet.
His voice was quiet when he spoke. Yoongi suspected he was afraid and didn't want the others to overhear. And that if Seokjin was the reason behind his sorrow, he'd strangle him on the hypothetical green grass.
"What if Jungkookie really needs us?"
Mouth twisting with fondness, he put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed firmly. "Then we're going to him. Together."
Tae personified urgency. "Promise you'll be there, Hyung. Promise."
"I promise."
Yoongi responded remarkably confident, and Taehyung had no choice but to believe him. His features relaxed, anxiety bleeding into less extreme worry.
"I want to do it - I just, I don't want to be there alone."
"You don't need to worry. All of us will be there." And then he sighed, rubbing the exposed skin of his arm, contemplating how he would word his peace offering. He knew his conscience would be too bloated to rest, even with a high dosage tablet. And to protect the backside of his head, on the off chance Seokjin was eavesdropping. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really, really, sorry for . . I know that you were doing so well. It was out of line and there's no excuse for suggesting it, even with everything going on."
Taehyung smiled, mildly amused, as though he saw no reason for the situation to drag on any longer. "It's okay, Yoongi-Hyung. I would've brought it up if you hadn't. I want to try as badly as you do." A flicker of grief, not the mourning kind. in his brown eyes. "I don't think I'm meant to hold a streak, anyway."
Yoongi's hand gave the feeling of falling through the man's body. Just as though Taehyung became a spirit in that single moment of quiet after his casual declaration. Like he had finally given in.
Luckily, Taehyung wasn't touching him. He would've felt the tremor bloom from his chest.
"I love you, Taehyung, you know that?"
"Yes, I do, Hyung."
"You're meant for a lot in life." Yoongi reattempted the articulation that worked before, raising his brows, daring him to test it.
Yet Taehyung shook his head. The tears that spilled conceived a painting from his handsome face, and the abstract quality of the liquid sadness with the smile he easily formed.
"I was meant to be a Hyung. I don't think I'm meant for anything after that."
Yoongi had always wanted to understand the deepest depths of Taehyung. He was as open as a book could get, but, some of his pages were written in a cryptic language he couldn't decipher.
A few years back he figured that if Taehyung wanted anyone to know what it said, he would translate. People needed to meet halfway when it came to breaking one's soul apart. Now he stressed that he was counting on nothing. Perhaps the distance he created formed thoughts within his head that his poems were the ones that no one could read. If his face was set in oil in a museum, not one passerby could understand the emotions he was presenting.
They had lost Jungkook physically, but what if they lost Taehyung to the sky, to the sea, to the places people went to disappear?
Yoongi, permanently disturbed, only forced himself to his room knowing that Taehyung was with Jimin, and Jimin would take good care of him. Jimin would anchor him with a cuddled arm and whisper those sweet compliments Yoongi never got the hang of. Grief had made Jimin an even better person; Yoongi continued to not do what he couldn't.
Burning with guilt, he shoved the pill in his mouth and swallowed with a small sip of the water he kept on his nightstand.
Twenty minutes. Yoongi could fall asleep in twenty minutes. His record was under two, after an exhausting few days of work. He figured that like natural sleep, focusing on the function of sleep itself would only delay the process. He'd let his mind wander where ever it chose to, so long as it kept within certain boundaries.
He lay there still, on his back, for five minutes without any indication of sedative in his system. He grew impatient. Jungkook was waiting, he knew that much, and there was no time for digestion, regulating in the liver, and entering of his bloodstream. He considered eating something sugary, hearing before that the resulting effect increased medication processes. Then, ten minutes passed, and he swore to himself he'd never take any of that high of dosage again.
A wash of sleep caused him to shiver, brought a bout of nausea. He'd never had prescription medication for insomnia, only tried the natural, over-the-counter, less intense oral items. It wasn't like exhaustion. Pieces of his mind drowning in water, his limbs going numb. Maybe it was like dying. He continued to focus on the lull of sleep, and the things that forced him to escape, ignoring panic as his legs became too heavy to move.
He thought of lyrics because he frustratingly always found spurts of inspiration when he was too tired to manifest it. For a while, he tried to envision their choreographies, but he wasn't much of a dancer, and that annoyed him past relaxation. Then he considered the sky, and how much he suddenly feared it. What if it meant nothing? What if it wouldn't cure his hurt? What if it became a reflection of the earth, the senseless people he was trying to avoid?
He thought of Jimin and Taehyung falling asleep, limbs entangled, content without his presence.
He thought of Seokjin who's entire attention was devoted to the destruction of coerced sleep. He thought of Hoseok who he related with but did not understand. He thought of Namjoon and the look of relief on his face as Yoongi broke contract rules. And he thought of Jungkook, who he loved so strongly it broke all rules of common existence.
I promise I'll do you right. I promise I won't let them forget you.
Another wave languished over him. Time wavered. He signed a contract - with the terms darker than even a typical idol's. The chorus of the song played out as his body surrendered into the scientific impossibility of a world where Jungkook was.
Maybe he would've preferred spiked Gatorade. Strawberry Kiwi.
---
He was in a completely blank room, and he ran, even before the calls began.
The pounding of his footsteps drowned out the flowing of his blood. His pants of breath were loud but real and full of the air he was used to breathing.
"Hyung?"
Like when he had a question. Or when he wanted to sleep in his bed.
"Jungkook." He found he could use his voice with no restriction. Desperately, he tried to outrun the voice that was falling further away, picking up his pace by l stretching his short legs out as far as they could reach.
"Jungkook!" His voice echoed around the walls - were they even walls? - and right back into his ear. Pain burst at the volume, yet he called out again, and again, desperate for a different answer. "Jungkook-ah! I'm here!"
I'll bring you home. I'll bring you home.
"H-Hyung? Yoongi-Hyung?!"
Then he tripped, almost fell flat on his face, and the blankness was replaced with whistling wind and splashes of dark colors as he was falling, falling through an infinite hole. All of the air was slammed out from his body, and he fell limp, unable to brace for impact.
The voice, not masculine nor feminine, and with natural, insistent, superiority, returned.
"What would you do to bring Jungkook back?"
The answer slipped from his lips. Nothing more than a breath.
"Anything."
Everything froze. He could not brave enough peel open his eyes, but knew that he was suspended freely.
"Very well."
Rudely, he slammed into an unpadded floor. It didn't necessarily hurt anything but his dignity, peeling his face back, one cheek now covered in black dirt.
Dirt. He stilled. Underneath his palms pushing him up, small, fragile, blades of grass tickled the skin. The greenest he had ever seen a plant before. His sleeves were pasty white. Warmth from sun-heated his back. And logically, if the ground was below him, then . .
"Hyung?" A familiar voice said from above.
But it wasn't Jungkook.
It was Jimin, staring down at him with a gaped mouth, dressed in white clothes, and the blue of the sky behind him.
"Holy shit."
"Holy shit," Jimin repeated in an incredulous tone, reaching a handout. Yoongi forgot how to take it. His entire body grew rigid with shock, fist gripping and pulling grass from moist, cool, dirt, sprinkling across his hand.
Jimin couldn't pry him up from the floor because his other hand was occupied with Taehyung's, standing behind him with an awestruck smile that would've had Yoongi fond, if Taehyung wasn't standing there behind Jimin, smiling with the bright, burning, sun positioned above his head.
"Wait - wait, are you okay? Are you all okay?" Namjoon kicked into maximum leader procedure, face the epitome of worry. He gripped the two maknae's shoulders, then helped Hoseok stand where he was laying flat against a groaning Seokjin.
He stopped upon sighting Yoongi. Yoongi put a hand on his chest. The quick pounding of his heart played a complex melody.
"I feel . . myself. Jimin -" the dancer clasped his small hand around his. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I feel you, too."
The beginning of a wondrous smile worked onto his lips and then fell back into a serious line. He looked angelic, all things are taken into consideration. An angel with absolute purpose.
"What would you do to bring Jungkook back?"
Easy, simple, effortlessly.
"Anything."
Jimin relaxed and released his increasingly tight grip. He shut his eyes, grinning towards the sky, a charming habit whenever he was overwhelmed with positive emotion.
"Yeah. Anything."
The field they stood in went on until it hit mountains, a good enough distance away they were a gorgeous, purple-gray, blur of color. Natural habitat, flowers of lilac, cyan, pastel yellows, deep reds. Clumps of trees, in their summer uniform. Rock strong against the gentle wind fluttering the vibrant leaves. He couldn't spot any wildlife, but listened closely for a moment, and heard the distant twittering of birds.
If this place existed in their known reality, Yoongi already guessed they would've filmed a music video there. It was beyond gorgeous, the most peaceful, untouched, organic glimpse of nature he had ever seen. Untouched by civilization. Humanity would put a limit on how high the grass could grow and plow for resources. There was unparalleled beauty in the rawness, in the serenity. Yoongi felt guilty for even standing there, albeit barefoot, but also never wanted to part.
He wondered if this was where Jungkook went. He pictured him running through the grass and climbing trees, making friends with animals that didn't know what man was. "You have dirt on your face, Yoongi-Hyung," Taehyung grinned, using his thumb to clean his plush cheek. Yoongi allowed himself to be pampered, Jimin coming from behind to smooth down his hair, and considered the beauty around him.
"Welcome, Bangtan Sonyeondan."
The ground below them rumbled with the sudden thunderous conversation opener. Yoongi gasped, clutching Namjoon's bicep to steady himself. Birds fluttered out from the tops of the far-off forests, while the members desperately caught their balance. The voice did not wait for their full attention, expecting to already have it.
"I understand this is an abnormal experience. However, I'm inclined to believe that you are prepared to handle it."
"What's going on?" Namjoon called out fiercely, the field settling, his voice panicked and eyes wide. "Where's Jungkook?"
"Jungkook is dead, Kim Namjoon. You know that as well as we all do."
The voice had hints of character, unlike before. Slightly amused, not in a detrimental way. Excited. Yoongi's body trembled, the situation finally dawning upon him. They were speaking from the sky, but unless they were blue pigment, had no face or features. Not as foreboding, either. Closer to speaking to the boss on your first day of a new job, rather than being a peasant on your knees in front of an emperor.
Yoongi had never been more terrified in his life.
Namjoon blinked slowly. All five relied on his weight to steady themselves, holding onto various parts of his body.
It wasn't just physical stability they were seeking.
"Then . ."
"You're here because you accepted the call. You all did. Anything - you all said anything. Was that a lie?"
Snow would blanket in hell. Namjoon quickly spoke for them, swallowing thick discomposure down his throat.
"No, no - anything. We'll do anything."
When the voice breathed, the top layer of the earth followed, rising, and down. Yoongi suspected it was merely for show, and if they truly had to breathe, the world's supply of oxygen would be gone with a few long breaths. The birds did not seem to mind, anymore, disappearing into their homes.
"Jeon Jungkook's time on earth was decided from the moment was born. He would live twenty-three years, 1 month, and 9 days. I understand that it's been just over a year since his passing, hm?"
What a cruel amount of time. Twenty-three was no age. Yoongi felt sore thinking about all the things Jungkook would've - should've been able to do. All of the hopes and dreams he longed for were torn from his tiny hands before he could even babble.
"Everything went according to plan. Jeon Jungkook passed in a vehicular incident on November 10th, 2020. He was twenty-three, 1 month, and 9 days old. But well-thought-out plans make room for change. Backtracking. What goes perfectly is not always perfect."
Now was about the time most would reconsider their answer of 'anything,' and begin negotiating the way home. Yet Yoongi's blood was rushing with interest, adrenaline-pumping alongside it.
Namjoon narrowed his vision, pursuing his lips. Five pairs of fingernails formed tiny crescent moons into his tanned skin.
"Wha - What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that the universe admittedly made a mistake when Jeon Jungkook died."
Yoongi didn't need a voice coming from the sky to believe it. Though he had to admit it eased his conscience.
---