A few things before this story starts:
HUGE WARNING: While this fic does not necessarily have any extreme triggering elements (ie. self-harm, suicide), there are: vulgar language, symptoms of depression, self-hate, anxiety, panic attacks, and abandonment/rejection. If you're sensitive to any of the above, please don't read or read with caution.
The timeline of this story takes place in (nearly) the entirety of 2018. Just so we're clear.
I usually read and write at Archive of Our Own, so this is sort of my first published work on Wattpad. I hope I'm doing okay!
Title is from Epiphany. To nobody's surprise, I know. In fact, a lot of this fic is based around Epiphany and Awake.
Anyways, that's it and I hope you enjoy!
*****
Kim Seokjin has done a lot of things in his life.
He sang, danced, and lived a portion of his 20's in the middle on a concert stage. He's flown all around the world more than once, set foot on more countries than he can count.
He swam in oceans and rivers, hiked mountains, met stingrays, rode roller coasters, filmed a movie's worth of music videos, went to Hawaii, got attacked by zombies, got kidnapped that one time, got pranked for his birthday...the list keeps going.
He's seen and felt so much more than one person could ever imagine, him and his group. He's seen and met people from all kinds of places in the world, even dwelled a little into their culture every time they visit a country.
And above all, he has a family unlike anything else in the entire universe.
A makeshift one; put together by pure fate and a tiny company who just happened to put up posters for some audition.
But fuck, Seokjin is willing to give up his very life for these six other boys.
So. With all of this on his hands; a life made up of a colorful constellation, each star a piece of himself as he sees and feels more wonder throughout his career...
...isn't he supposed to be happy?
*****
In all honesty, Seokjin has an idea of how it all started.
A loud thump echoed through the dance room when he fell to the ground, hard. He gritted his teeth, getting a taste of his salty sweat that had strayed into his mouth. His hands burned from hitting the floor.
It was a cold night in early January when he stayed behind at the dance studio. It's late, and their tired choreographer had already grumbled about how he wants to go home.
Whatever had gotten into Seokjin that night did not allow him to get his moves right at all. His breath hot and muscles aching, it felt like his skin is masked entirely in sweat.
"Yah, Seokjin. Even Namjoon got it pretty quickly. What's wrong with you?"
"Sorry, coach," he mumbled.
"Try it again, from the beginning of the chorus. Your arms and legs weren't synchronized enough."
Seokjin's arms felt like dead weights, two rusty anchors strapped to his shoulders. His legs had been drained dry to the bones, set to break at any given time.
So when the music started, his feet tripped on absolutely nothing and his entire figure stumbled to the dance studio floor.
His choreographer sighed heavily.
"Seokjin, if you keep this up you'll be useless to the group."
Jin, in the middle of getting back up, froze completely.
Him? Useless to the group?
"Y'know what? I think we've had enough for the day," said the dance instructor, motioning him to get up. "You can go home."
Jin only nodded stiffly before scrambling to get up. He took his bag and headed home.
*****
By April things just get worse for him.
It's just that everything around him felt like they've been placed on his shoulders and they're soheavy. The pressure of being an idol and an entertainer and a hyung has been taking such a toll that not even his strong mentality could hold back his darker thoughts.
Like, say, leaving Bangtan.
He really did try to push that thought away, really. But after so much he just couldn't anymore. His mental wall had been broken down little by little, in the way he's always lacking behind on choreography, to his vocals that just never sounded good enough, to seeing how his other members are out there releasing solo tracks and producing and working on their dance moves and he's just not good enough for any of those.
He's just not good enough, not good enough, not good-
Seokjin took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly.
He looked down from the mirror and to the sink, his hands clutched on it for support. The tap was still running with the sound of water falling down the drain. Seokjin had feared he'd have a full on break down if he was let alone in silence.
"Not now," he whispered. He can't have a break down right now. Not now where he's in one of the bathrooms of the dorm. Not now when Yoongi is in the next room composing beats and the maknae line on the other room playing Mario Kart. Not now when the walls suddenly feel too thin.
"Not now."
He'll be okay. He'll be okay. It's okay, he told himself.
With more willpower than necessary he turned off the tap water and dragged his feet back to his room.
That's when he decides to write a letter.
It's on a crinkled sheet of A4 paper that he had grabbed in a spur, written by some black ink pen he found under his bed. But the contents of it is a chain of words that he'll take to the grave. It's short and simple, yet within it he spills the impulsive thoughts guilty of haunting him lately;
Dear Bang Si Hyuk, Big Hit Entertaiment, and Bangtan Sonyeondan.
I would like to notify you that I am resigning from my position of vocalist and visual in BTS, as I no longer see myself fit for such a role.
It had been a life changing few years and I wouldn't be who I am now if it wasn't for this group. For long I've been trying to keep up with all of you, but I can never shake off the feeling that I'm dragging everyone down. I'm sorry, but I can only hope that you all understand why I chose to resign. ARMY will be sad, I'm sure. But they'll manage. If you have any intentions to replace me in the group, do it. You don't need my permission.
And as for my fellow members, please take care. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to stay. Promise me you'll fly further than I ever will.
Sincerely,
Kim Seokjin
His hands felt numb by the time he finished. His fingers went limp and the pen he'd been holding fell and rolled back under the bed.
Why, exactly, did he write such a letter? He isn't too sure himself.
It's a way to escape, he supposes. A sliver of comfort in the form of a hand written formal letter.
If things get even worse, if things get too bad for him to handle, he'll just give up the letter to Bang PD. He has rights. He can leave if he wants to.
Yes. He can leave whenever. It's alright.
If things get too bad he'll just leave and it'll be okay. This isn't too bad; he can stay just a little longer. He'll hold on just a little longer.
*****
Even if he's not good enough – will never be good enough – he'll stay. Just a little longer.
*****
btw HUGE THANKS to AnyaSei and their amazing work, Love Me When I'm Gone (over on AO3) the fanfic that largely inspired me to write this! PLEASE, PLEASE CHECK OUT THAT FIC AS WELL!!