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He isn’t sure when this all started, probably a few months ago, right after the series’ shooting ended, they’d said he did good, that everyone was very entranced by his acting, and he’d gotten a whole lot of praises from everyone he met that had seen the series, that should’ve been it, he’d acts, everyone had watches and then, everyone had moves on. Simple. But it hadn’t been that. People did linger after everything had ended. He really wishes those people had left early.
Because if they had, perhaps he wouldn’t be stuck in an endless loop of acting, perhaps he wouldn’t have to keep pretending, perhaps he wouldn’t have a whole wall of printed out comments like a psychopath, maybe… he would’ve been happy. Maybe, he would’ve been proud of the one project he did by himself, and maybe, he wouldn’t be put off from work and into mandatory therapy appointments because of it.
He hates it —just like they’d hated him— it makes him feel like they see him like a fragile, fractured piece of glass. He wants to escape it, but his escape was what had gotten him in this predicament in the first place.
‘Should’ve just jumped off instead, surely that would’ve worked.’ He thinks bitterly as he’s driven to his therapist’s office.
“You want me to come along, Tae?” Seokjin asks, already undoing his seatbelt.
Taehyung turns to look at his hyung, who’s got eyebags that look like bruises and get’s reminded of another thing he’s good at —he’s been asked to remember and remind himself his good qualities, something about raising his self-esteem or whatever— being a burden. “I’ll be fine, hyung, you should go home and sleep for a while.”
“Pshh. Sleep’s for the weak.” Seokjin waves his hand dismissively with an awkward laugh, “N—not that… y’know, weak people are bad, y’know— I think they’re— I think they’re great people, they just need some love… like… uh… they’re like flowers!” He chirps, the forced cheer is like nails on a chalkboard to Taehyung’s ears.
‘There goes the over-compensating, over-explaining sentence again,’ Taehyung sighs internally, “I got it, hyung. You should go home and sleep, I’ll… take a taxi home.” He tries to convince his hyung, though he knows how it’ll go.
Seokjin almost flinches but hides it quickly, as if the thought of the boy coming home alone in a taxi was the most horrific thing he’s heard in his whole life, “What’s the need? Those taxi drivers are slow as hell anyway, and besides, you have your own personal taxi driver, who’ll even let you play your favourite songs on the way home!”
“Hyung—”
“Now, go on, or else you’ll be late to meet Chun-ja-ssi.” Seokjin hurriedly cuts the younger boy off, ushering him towards the entrance of the building, “Tell him everything, okay! Don’t hold back, he’s like your secret diary, but he’s a human.”
Taehyung simply bows his head and enters the building with a soft hum, he sits down in the waiting area, looking around the now-familiar room, he’s been here too many times to count, there isn’t a single pattern he hasn’t counted, not a single painting that he hasn’t analysed, heck he even remembers the exact number of tiny stones on one of the textured walls. It had around six thousand one hundred and thirty stones. He’s got nothing to do this time, he’s counted everything he could, stared at every painting, read every booklet, so he just sits with his head bowed, hands clasped tightly in his lap, waiting for the call from his therapist’s attendant.
He briefly looks up and sees Seokjin, hovering near the window nervously, and sighs, he knows that his hyung isn’t going to go sit in his car until the therapist’s office door opens. And there’s no point in inviting him in, because Seokjin will act all nervous as if he got caught stealing something. It’s exactly the same every damn time, no one lets him out of their eyesight, there’s always someone hovering, whether it’s his brothers, his family or their managers, stylists or other assistants.
After what seems like eternity to Taehyung, his therapist’s attendant steps out of the clinic with another patient, a scrawny teenager who’d been struggling with school, his self-worth and the pressure to score good. Taehyung’s been here for long enough to know about the other patients his therapist has. The boy catches Taehyung’s eye and waves a little.
“How’s it going, hyung?” The boy asks, a bit cheerfully, Taehyung just gives a small, entirely fake smile back. The boy surely has changed since Taehyung’s first few weeks at the therapy clinic, the boy had been an anxious mess, always worrying about going home to study because he was a barely average student who’d been pressured to score more than what he could ever dream about, but after attending Dr.Chun-ja’s therapy sessions for two months now, the boy had begun to take lighter loads and had been doing good with handling his anxiety.
It seems like Dr.Chun-ja’s therapy sessions are truly magical, they fix everyone, even Taehyung. At least… that’s what everyone sees.
“Kim-ssi? Chun-ja-ssi is ready to see you.” Chun-ja’s attendant tells him —she's a bubbly girl, straight out of college, this is her first job, at least that’s what she’s told him— he nods, stands up and walks into his therapist’s suffocating office.
—
“Hyung? Is he back yet?” Jimin’s voice rings out from his phone as Seokjin saunters over inside the building and collapses onto one of the couches.
“No, he’s still talking to Chun-ja-ssi.” Seokjin replies, picking up a booklet that was lying on the couch.
“It’s taking longer than usual, he usually comes back in an hour and four minutes.” Jimin sighs, “Hyung! W—what if we missed something again?” He asks, his voice raising an octave higher.
“We’ll have to ask Chun-ja-ssi, Jimin-ah, I really hope we haven’t.” Seokjin says, his voice weary.
“Hyung, you sound tired— wait. I’ll be right there, and then you can come home to rest.” Jimin tells him, there’s the faint click of a door being unlocked in the background.
“I’ll be fine, J—” Seokjin tries to reply but the line is already dead, the boy just huffs and absentmindedly flips through the magazine.
About five minutes later, Jimin’s car skids past the building’s entrance and into the parking lot. Seokjin’s already prepared a lecture about speed limits in his mind.
Jimin runs in through the big glass doors of the therapy clinic, and walks up to Seokjin.
“What was that driving, Park Jimin? Tha—”
“Later, hyung. You need to go home and sleep. Right now. I don’t care about any of your excuses.” Jimin says, nearly pushing Seokjin out of the glass doors.
Seokjin takes out his car keys from his pocket and walks over to his car, seeing no point in arguing.
Jimin waves bye to his hyung and then walks back into the therapy clinic, he sits there, staring at the pattern of the floor, then, the pattern of the wood on the reception desk, his leg starts bouncing up and down as time stretches on.
What if his soulmate had been thinking of endin— The scene Hoseok had stumbled upon about five months ago flashes in his mind.
They’d been having dinner downstairs, Hoseok had gone to wake Taehyung up, he was sneaking into the second youngest’s room, the boy had stopped letting them into their room ever since Hwarang had been released, had always made up all sorts of ridiculous excuses to stop them from entering his room, they thought it was just something he’d picked up from being with his Hwarang hyungs for so long, because initially, he’d always be excited when he was out of the room, so glad that he’d successfully acted in a whole drama, always jumping around in excitement and beaming brightly whenever he was praised for his acting.
But then, he’d begun changing, it was subtle at first, a little frown that lasted too long while he looked at his phone, he started locking his room when he’d not be at home, and then, came the day when Hoseok had sneaked into his room. It was nothing short of a horror house, Taehyung had this accent wall opposite to his bed, he’d had a huge white board where he’d write or draw random abstract things based on his whims, but, the white board had been haphazardly thrown to the further corner of the room, and instead, pinned to the wall were many screenshots of vile, hate comments, not just hate comments, they were straight up asking him to kill himself, they’d had many comments like that in the past, but the sheer scale of them, the absolutely vile wordings of the comments —some of them had even brought up his grandmother— was terrifying, but that wasn’t the only thing Hoseok found.
Hoseok had noticed that Taehyung wasn’t in his room, so Hoseok had hesitantly opened the second youngest’s bathroom door, and there, on the cold, white tiles which were flooded with red, was their second youngest, both of his wrists slashed and an empty bottle of sleeping pills rolling around in the blood. The scream that had rang through their dorm that day was something that woke Jimin up randomly even after Taehyung’s seemingly progressive recovery.
With each passing minute, Jimin’s mind starts making up increasingly terrifying situations. What if they’d missed more signs? What if it was worse this time? What if Taehyung had gotten better at hiding? No, Seokjin had cleaned every nook and cranny of Taehyung’s room yesterday, there were no hidden diaries full of self-depreciating writing, no hidden devices which had hate forums open, no print-outs of hate comments, nothing. And even if Seokjin had missed something, Jimin’s sure he’s missed nothing, he’s been watching over his best friend like a hawk, making sure his soulmate eats properly, drinks proper water and is loved fully. Surely, they’ve missed nothing, surely, Taehyung’s just being Taehyung again and has finally befriended his therapist.
—
“—always making sure I eat properly, drink enough water… and that I’m loved. Like a fucking pet.”
“Taehyung-ssi, I understand your frustration, but the scars of what your members saw are still fresh, they’re not sure what to do, so they often over-compensate, they don’t mean to treat you like a pet, perhaps in their mind they don’t even realize that the way they’re treating you might feel like that, they’re just trying to keep you safe and happy and love you in their own way.” Chun-ja explains, “Maybe you could try communicating what discomforts you.”
Taehyung doesn’t reply, he gives a slight nod and then crosses his arms.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” Chun-ja asks, and Taehyung remains mute. He has no interest in speaking to his therapist, has never had, he’s surprised that his therapist actually has given him good advice this time, because in his four months of meeting Chun-ja, this is the first time, he’s actually considering taking the therapist’s advice, most of what he’s ever told Chun-ja has been in an angered, annoyed snap, because Chun-ja just wouldn’t let him go if he doesn’t speak about at least one of his problems, so he has to tell him something, even if he hates the man.
The reason is simple, Chun-ja is an old man. He’s more of a psychiatrist than a therapist, sure he calls himself a therapist, but Taehyung’s sure that’s just because therapists are more popular and visited these days and Chun-ja wants some extra business. Not only is Chun-ja extremely clinical with visits, his mindset is also very old, in his mindset, people like Taehyung are mentally ill or attention seeking. When Taehyung had been first brought here, Chun-ja had made it clear that he thought that Taehyung was one of the latter category, over time, Chun-ja slowly decreased showing or expressing his thoughts explicitly and instead, would subtly hint at it. But because of Chun-ja’s mindset, the man has never been ‘kind’ to Taehyung, always stern and a bit pushy at times, even though Chun-ja is a seemingly tolerable man for his other patients.
“Taehyung-ssi, I’m asking again, is there anything else troubling you? You know you cannot leave until you tell me.” Chun-ja says, “It would be horrible if you decide to… do something that would make a lot of people panic.”
“There’s nothing. Can I leave?” Taehyung asks, already moving to stand up.
“I feel as if you’re not speaking about your true feelings.” Chun-ja speaks, “Please be truthful.”
Taehyung stares at the man and he knows what the ‘therapist’ wants him to say, that he’s selfish and the reason he cut his own fucking veins and dumped a whole fucking bottle of sleeping pills in his mouth was all so he could get all the attention in the world and be treated like a piece of glass that’ll shatter the moment it bumps into something else. And maybe, that is true, maybe he is a selfish bastard who did all this to get attention. Who knows? His brain clearly isn’t interested in answering his questions, it’s too busy making up new ways to get the fuck out of his worthless, pathethic existence because he can’t do anything right, everything he does fails in the end, maybe he should start distancing himself from his members before he—
“Are you being truthful, Taehyung-ssi?” Chun-ja asks, crashing his train of thoughts.
“Yeah. Can I please go? What do you get from keeping me here anyway?” Taehyung questions, looking at his therapist.
“Your health, Taehyung-ssi.” Chun-ja replies, a clearly forced smile on his face.
“Money.” Taehyung corrects, “Right? The longer the session, the more money you get.”
“Why’d you try and kill yourself?” Chun-ja counters, “If not for the fame and eventually, the money you’d get? All those donation-drives, all those mental health support donations people sent to your company, you did this whole drama for that, didn’t you?”
Taehyung stares at the man, shocked, this was the first time the man had outright said it. He continues to stare for a long minute before he huffed, a little, disbelieving laugh, “If this was a whole drama, Chun-ja-ssi, then the drama has ended now, the seats are empty, the theatre is dark, there is no one watching… then why am I still acting out the drama, sir?” He asks.
Chun-ja remains silent, and Taehyung can no longer suppress the rage inside him, before he can control it, he’s yelling, “What explanation do you give for that, I’d really like to know, and since you know everything so well, since you know things that even I didn’t know about myself, you must know, right? Why does my brain want to die so bad?! Why am I so bad at everything I do? Why can’t I do anything right? Why am I such a terrible person? Why is it never okay if I’m just being myself?! Why can’t I be sad without being seen as a fragile thing? Why is being human not acceptable? Why must I— Why must we, all of us, always have to live up to humanly impossible expectations?! Why can’t we just live?! Why can’t we live without people always asking us to be there perfect fucking dolls or always assuming shit about us?!”
Before Chun-ja can come up with any response, the office door flies open.
“—Don’t open the doo—” Chun-ja’s attendant’s voice is cut off with the door slamming open.
Jimin stands at the threshold, his eyes wide with panic, “Taehyung-ah?”
Taehyung looks at his soulmate and then curls in on himself, almost hiding his face with how much he’d curled up.
Jimin walks up to the slightly younger boy and hesitantly reaches out and puts his arm across the boy’s shoulders and then gently steers him out of the room. Taehyung remains quiet the entire way, but he leans in towards Jimin, tucking his head under the slightly older boy’s chin.
With practiced ease, Jimin maneuvers his soulmate into the car’s passenger seat and puts on his seat belt, he cups his best friend’s face and tilts it slightly upwards, brushing away the tears streaming down the boy’s face, “You don’t have to act anymore, ‘kay?” He whispers, patting the boy’s cheek lightly before going to sit in the driver’s seat.
Taehyung curls up in the seat, facing the window.
Jimin starts the car’s engine but before beginning to drive, he pulls out his phone and sends a little text.
—
By the time Jimin’s car pulls up at their dorm, the dorm’s already been set up.
“They’re here!” Jeongguk exclaims as he sees Jimin help Taehyung out of the car.
“Remember guys, we’ve gotta lower our love volume!” Hoseok reminds, throwing a pillow in place.
“We know, Hoba.” Yoongi replies from the kitchen.
Namjoon opens the door, giving the two a small smile, not asking at all about the therapy session.
“Taehyungie, do you wanna freshen up before dinner or not?” Jimin asks, slightly distancing himself from his soulmate, who’s half-asleep at this point.
Taehyung simply leans closer to his best friend, “Eat… then sleep.” He mumbles, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Okay, c’mon, let’s get you to the dining table.” Jimin smiles, Jeongguk’s there before the two can reach, already pulling back a chair.
Many aromas waft in to the dining area from the kitchen, Taehyung, who’s somehow managed to lean on Jimin’s shoulder even while he’s on a separate chair, slowly opens his eyes and slightly raise his head, as if on cue, Seokjin and Yoongi walk out from the kitchen with two pots.
Yoongi reaches out to ruffle Taehyung’s hair after he puts down his pot while Seokjin affectionately pulls the boy’s cheek.
“Eat well, Taehyungie.” Hoseok smiles as he sits down at the dining table.
As dinner progresses, silent with not much noise just the occasional murmurs, as Namjoon reaches out to grab the salt shaker, he reaches a bit further and pats Taehyung’s head and Jeongguk randomly puts some of his food into his youngest hyung’s plate.
After dinner’s finished, Taehyung stands up and stumbles over to his room. The remaining six exchange glances before a unified nod goes through the dining table and Namjoon stands up, it’s his turn for what they’d begun calling, ‘The Taehyung Watch’, wherein, every night, one of the six would become an unwilling Taehyung’s roommate for the night, watching over him and never really sleeping, because finding him lying in a pool of his own blood with around twenty sleeping pills shoved down his throat was something they’d sacrifice their own health and sleep to prevent.
Namjoon walks into the second youngest’s bedroom, Taehyung’s already arranging the temporary bed that’d been set up in his room for the ‘watch’ they’d do, Namjoon walks in and with a gentle hand on the shoulder, steers the boy to sit on his own bed, “Sleep well, Taehyungie, I’m going to my room, if you need anything, just let us know, okay? We won’t feel burdened, we’ll be happy to help.” He says, brushing the fringe away from the boy’s face, “And we won’t invade your space anymore, okay?”
Taehyung nods, a small smile on his face, Namjoon returns the smile, patting the boy’s shoulder before leaving the room.
The six of them decide to sit around in the living room, to talk about what they’d do next, to think about ways to show their love and support without overwhelming their second youngest, and they’re about fifteen minutes into their ‘meeting’, when Taehyung’s room’s door opens, Taehyung steps out, clutching a pillow close.
“Taetae?” Jimin calls out, walking up to his soulmate.
“...I changed my mind.” Taehyung mumbles into his pillow.
“Changed your mind about what, hyung?” Jeongguk asks, standing up.
Taehyung looks around the room nervously, before burying his face in the pillow, and then, in a barely audible mumble, “...can we all have a sleepover?”
“You wanna have a sleepover?” Hoseok repeats, his eyes squinting in uncertainty.
Taehyung nods slightly.
“Where?” Yoongi asks.
“...here.” Taehyung answers.
“Okay, let’s all get each of our pillows and blankets, and also our mattresses.” Namjoon says, “We can line the mattresses to cover the entire floor.
Jeongguk and Jimin are immediately on the task, already dragging out their own mattresses.
The minute the last pillow is in place, Taehyung falls onto the mattresses and pulls his pillow close, already drifting off to a peaceful sleep.
A few minutes later, the other six join in, carefully slipping in next to the second youngest, who had fallen asleep in the middle of the mattress-floor.
—
The next morning, when Taehyung wakes up, he’s surrounded in a giant hug by all of his hyungs —even Yoongi and Namjoon— and Jungkook.
He slowly slips out from the giant cuddle pile, fixes the six’s blankets and walks into the kitchen.
—
Seokjin wakes up to the sweet smell of pancakes floating around, he sits up, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the kitchen.
The kitchen door is locked shut, so Seokjin goes to get ready for the day, assuming that either Yoongi or Jeongguk were in the kitchen.
By the time he walks back downstairs, his dongsaengs have woken and are looking at the kitchen in confusion.
“Wait—” Seokjin mutters as he sees the dongsaengs sitting on their mattress-floor, “If you two are here,” He begins, looking at Yoongi and Jeongguk and then at the kitchen, “Then who’s in there?”
As if on cue, Taehyung walks out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with a big plate with about fourteen pancakes arranged like a flower, beautifully decorated, and along that plate are seven glasses of orange juice, and in the corner of the tray are seven empty plates. Taehyung puts down the tray on the dining table while the other six stare at him, in various states of shock.
“What? Are you guys gonna eat or—”
Yoongi opens his mouth, but fails to think of a response.
“It’s edible, I didn’t burn anything, I didn’t put salt in it, I swear! I watched a whole youtube tutorial and—”
“Why?” Jimin asks, standing up and walking up to the table to look at the tray.
“Why not?” Taehyung counters, “Now, c’mon, dig in, or else the pancakes will go cold.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Jeongguk grinned, speeding past everyone and grabbing an empty plate and a pancake.
Within the next five minutes, there’s only one pancake left, Taehyung picks it up and hands it to a still shocked Seokjin, “Eat, hyung.”
The minute the last pancake is lifted, the big plate does not get empty, instead, it reveals a small, chocolate spelling out ‘Thank you.’