"Y/n will be okay."
"You sure? I don't think we should let it go on like this."
The four of them - Jin, Suga, Namjoon, and Taehyung - are gathered around the campfire drinking soup. Jungkook and J-Hope never being found again after the battle took a serious blow on their mood. They slowly got back to functioning as human beings again, but Y/n...
"She needs time to process what happened. Of course it'll take awhile," Jin responds after drinking a spoonful.
Suga raises an eyebrow. "Y/n's been doing nothing."
"That's kind of what grief does to people. They need time to process what happened."
"This isn't normal," Suga stresses. "All she's done is stare off into space either in her tent or sitting outside, and the few times she came out to get food she's just been quiet and unresponsive. It's fine at the beginning but for this long? I think we should talk to her."
They fall into silence at that.
"I'll do it," Namjoon sets his soup down. "We can't have too many people going at once, so I'll talk with her first."
The remaining three nod in agreement as Namjoon leaves the campfire. Its warmth is replaced by cold winter air as he walks toward Y/n's tent. He hesitates outside for a moment, wondering what he should talk about. Usually he would give this task to the others who were better at this than him: if only Jimin was here, who always knew what to say and had calming abilities; if only J-Hope was here, who could always cheer people up; if only Jungkook weren't...
Namjoon shakes his head. "Y/n?"
No response.
~
Go away.
I would wind him away if I could, but I feel so weighed down by the world that it's difficult to move. I just lay there in silence and keep staring at the dull gray interior of the tent above me.
"I'll just- it'll be good for you to get some fresh air," the tent shifts as Namjoon unzips the entrance. "It'll help you clear your head. Let me just-" SNAP.
I don't bother looking at what happened.
"Oops. The zipper kind of broke- uh, well. At least you have a decent view of the outside world now."
I sigh. I wish he would leave.
"You probably want to be left alone right now," he says in a softer tone as he sits inside, "but I really need to thank you for saving my life back there. That must have taken a lot of courage."
I know he means it in a good way, but his words unearth all the emotions and bad memories inside me that I've been struggling to forget. The cost of the battle was one I was never ready to pay. Tears form again, which I've tried to stop countless times, but each time I fail and they fall. Like he did.
"Are you doing alright?" he asks gently.
I nod my head stubbornly because of course I'm doing alright I'll get better somehow and wipe the stupid water droplets off my face - but it's all in vain, because more tears replace them anyway.
Namjoon seems to understand. I can't see him from where I'm lying down but in the silence I can somehow tell.
I gaze longingly at the top of the tent and imagine what the gray sky must look like beyond it. As if maybe, by looking upwards, I could be closer to him that way, or feel his presence... but even the thought of him hurts me.
I whisper, hesitantly: "... Namjoon?"
"Hm?"
He's listening. I try to steady my shaky voice.
"How do you..." I pause, searching for the words to say. "What are you supposed to do when a source of happiness and memories ceases to exist?"
"You live on because that's what they'd do for you."
"But how do you cope with it? Knowing you'll never get to see their smile or say another goodbye..."
He sighs.
"And the worst part of it is the guilt. It's all my fault."
"No, Y/n-"
"We'll never get to see him or Jimin or J-Hope again and it's all because I wasn't skilled enough and I should've done better. I let all of you down."
"You did nothing wrong. No, listen." He pats my shoulder to encourage me to sit up. When I do, he continues. "The amount of bravery you had in that battle was more than I ever could have imagined. No one else would have handled it as well as you did. No one else would have generated that sound explosion at the end to give us enough time to escape. I can't think of a better person for the job. You were amazing, Y/n. You tried your absolute best and that's all any of us could have asked for."
Namjoon's words give me comfort. I want to express my thanks, I don't trust myself to say it out loud. I settle on staring blankly in front of me.
"We're here for you," Namjoon adds. "You have to keep going."
"How?" I mutter.
"We wait for the scars to heal somewhat and we learn to live with the stuff life throws at us. We keep going because we can't afford to give up." For all three of them.
"I guess so."
Neither of us have anything more to say, and the silence is comfortable enough that we don't feel the need to add anything. I quietly trace phantom patterns on the tent floor with my finger.
"I meant everything I said. We can't afford to lose you, Y/n. Jungkook wouldn't have wanted that."
My frown. I haven't heard his name out loud in awhile.
"You're part of the team, just like the rest of us. So you've got to stay strong and not lose hope. We're in this together."
I still need to figure out how to not cry myself into a raisin every night, I think. But I nod anyway.
"Together," I echo weakly.
Namjoon gives me a slight nod and gets up to leave. "There's warm soup by the campfire if you're hungry. I'll give you some space now."
After he's out of sight, my gaze goes back to the floor again. I put my head in my hands, waiting for the tears to come back, but instead I feel an emotion that I haven't felt in a long time.
We could run away. We could move and live on with our lives, hollow laughter and invisible scars and all, travel somewhere past the horizon to where no one would ever find us again, where we'd stay safe and fade into memories when our time ends.
But while Jimin and J-Hope are still out there? While a place like Training Headquarters still exists?
No.
We have to live on.
I'm still depressed but for the first time in days I don't feel so hopeless anymore. It's a delicate moment of acceptance when I gaze outside, take in a deep breath of the fresh air, and almost poetically, the snow gently begins to fall again.