"As we mourn my father's passing, I would also like to offer hope for the future. I know that I am not my father, who was a great and just man, but I will make every effort to both honor his legacy and continue to carry us a people forward into more prosperous lives. Let me prove myself to you in the coming months and years - that I, too, can be a great and just king, one worthy of your loyalty."

- Excerpt from a speech given by Yi Seojun, Seventh Ruler of the city-state of Seoul, after the death of his father

_ _

Hoseok is here. Yoongi almost can't believe it as he watches the rise and fall of Hoseok's chest, perched in the chair he dragged from Seokjin's kitchen to the guest bedroom. He hasn't woken up yet and might not for a few more hours, according to Seokjin. The last few days have put so much strain on his already wounded body, he's going to need time to heal. But he'll have that time now - Yoongi almost lost him without even knowing, but he's here and alive and ...

Yoongi wishes he knew what to feel.

Part of him is elated, so full of joy and relief that he can barely contain it. That part wants to climb onto the bed and hold Hoseok and never let go again. But another part is scared, and that one whispers about the scars on his skin, hidden beneath his clothes; reminds him of the fact that he used to be just Hoseok's and now he can't even count the number of people who have fucked him; points out that he's filthy and Hoseok will take one look at him and see all this ruin and be repulsed. He never wanted Hoseok in this world, never wanted him to truly know. And what happens the next time he goes to a party? The next time he comes back with a swollen mouth and bruises?

He shudders and stands up, wrapping his arms around his middle. He's not sure what he needs, but he can't stay in this room any longer so he tamps down on his guilt and slips through the door. It's late - he's not sure of the exact hour, but the city lights gleam through the curtains as he approaches the couch where Taehyung and Jimin are curled up, Jungkook cradled between them. His heart swells at the sight of them all together, at the tender way Jimin and Taehyung are both holding Jungkook - providing comfort and protecting him all at once.

It's Jimin he kneels next to and gently shakes. Jimin's eyes snap open immediately and latch onto his, a worried question in them.

"It's okay," he whispers. "Can you just sit with Hoseok for a little bit?"

He doesn't want to risk Hoseok waking up alone in a strange place.

"Of course," Jimin whispers back and carefully untangles himself from Jungkook and Taehyung. Jungkook whines faintly at the loss of warmth against his back and Jimin pets his hair, humming to soothe him. Once he's settled, Jimin presses a kiss to his cheek and stands, joining Yoongi.

"Hyung?" he asks, gentle, and Yoongi wonders how much Jimin can see, too. Decides he doesn't really want to know.

"I just need a minute," he says, unsure how to explain the restlessness churning in his gut and not wanting to expose his fear. He's always been strong for Jimin and he doesn't want to stop that now, doesn't want to crumble. "That's all, Jimin-ah."

"Okay." Jimin shuffles forward and wraps his arms around Yoongi and it's nice, being held, even briefly. "Let me know if you need anything."

He promises that he will and watches Jimin disappear into the bedroom. There aren't many places left to go in the apartment, so he finds himself in the bathroom, quietly shutting the door and climbing into the empty tub. He wraps his arms around his knees and stares at the white marble backsplash, tracing the black swirls that run through it. He hates feeling like this - hates this fear that is gnawing at the inside of his ribcage, hates that he cannot love Hoseok in the uncomplicated way that he did before, hates that so much has been taken from them that they may never get back.

The creak of the door handle turning startles him out of his brooding thoughts and he jerks his head up to see Namjoon's silhouette hovering hesitantly on the threshold. Of course. He wonders, sometimes, if Namjoon has a sixth sense when it comes to his emotional distress.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon whispers. "Jimin said...." he trails off, awkwardly. Shuffles his weight from his left foot to his right and back again - and Yoongi thinks about asking him to leave, but he doesn't actually want to be alone with his spiraling brain.

"It's okay," he says and beckons Namjoon closer.

Namjoon shuts the door, throwing them back into darkness, and crosses over to the tub, sinking down beside it. The distant city lights cast gold lines across his face as he reaches out a hand and cautiously puts it on Yoongi's knee. Yoongi's chest feels drawn tight and compressed - bones pushing against his heart and skin too small. The initials on his arm burn with phantom pain, but he shifts to put his hand over Namjoon's.

"What's wrong?" Namjoon asks him, gently (gentle, gentle, he's always so fucking gentle).

Yoongi swallows, not sure if he can put it all into words, not sure where to even start. "I love him," he says. "I still do, but ... I'm not the same. I'm not the person he remembers. I don't know if I can love him like I used to and I don't know if he'll want this me. If he'll want something - someone so fucking ruined."

"You're not-" Namjoon immediately starts to protest.

"I can't even count," Yoongi cuts him off. "I tried, in the beginning. To remember the number, each person that fucked me, but I stopped after I hit forty. Forty, Namjoon. And that was months ago. I - sometimes there would be twenty in a single fucking night. There are some I'll never remember because I was unconscious or drugged out of my mind and some that were so - so fucking awful I think my brain just deleted them. I am ruined, don't pretend like I'm not. You live in this world and you've seen it - you think any of us aren't ruined? Aren't used up and broken and-"

He trails off, a little shocked to realize that there are tears slipping down his cheeks. His lifts a hand to wipe them angrily away, furious at himself for crying over this. For being so weak.

Fingers touch his cheek, then the soft sleeve of Namjoon's cotton shirt. Yoongi leans into it, feeling pathetic, but it's nice when Namjoon's hand moves to the back of his neck and rubs, soothing.

"Do you know what I thought, when I first met you?" he asks after a moment of silence.

God, Yoongi remembers that night: Namjoon, tall and arrogant, talking about how fun it would be to break him. The bruises and welts on his skin when he opened the robe to let Namjoon appraise his body, and the shame of that, of being on display like an object - something he's never gotten used to.

He stays silent now and Namjoon's hand stills but doesn't leave. "I thought you were a fighter. You had fire in your eyes, even in the middle of all that pain, and I knew you were strong." Namjoon pauses and Yoongi watches a rueful smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "You're the bravest person I've ever met, Yoongi. I don't think there's anything broken about you."

Yoongi swallows back the sob trying to claw up his throat and squeezes his eyes shut. "This is the only me you know," he forces out. "You don't have a ... a before to compare it to. He does."

"If he loves you, it won't matter," Namjoon insists. "You're still you."

"It isn't that simple." Yoongi hiccups and bends forward, resting his forehead on his knees. "Before this he was the only one. The only to - to ever have me and now ... I don't know if I can let him touch me like that again. I don't know if I'll be able to give him what I used to and-"

He can feel himself starting to panic and he sucks in a heaving breath, trying to stave off the spiral, fingernails digging into his legs to ground himself.

"Hey," Namjoon says in concern, "hyung." He stands up and then he's climbing into the tub, folding himself around Yoongi like a protective blanket. Yoongi shudders, but he feels safe like this - in Namjoon's arms - and he's not sure he can examine what that means. "If he loves you, really loves you, then that won't matter to him. He'll figure out a new way to be with you."

And Yoongi wants to believe Namjoon, rest in the sincerity lacing his voice, but he also has to be practical. "I'm still a companion," he whispers. "We can't be together. Not until the coup is over. And in the meantime, he's going to have to watch other people touch me and treat me like a ... a thing. I never wanted him to see that and I don't know if he'll be able to bear it. Or if I will."

Namjoon's breath ghosts across the back of Yoongi's neck and he shifts to brush his fingers over the tattoo. This time, he doesn't try to offer any reassurance or solution. "I'm sorry," is all he says, genuine grief in his voice.

"A better world," Yoongi murmurs. Maybe him and Hoseok will have a new place in that one, if Hoseok can accept this damaged and scarred up version of him. For now, he sinks back into Namjoon's hold, face tucked into Namjoon's shoulder.

He's glad, at least, that Namjoon is here. That Namjoon makes him feel safe.

_ _

Jungkook still worries he might be dreaming. The last twenty-four hours certainly feel like a dream, with Jimin crashing back into his life followed so rapidly by Taehyung and Hoseok. He can't quite wrap his head around the sight of all of them here, in Seokjin's fancy apartment. They looked washed out and tired in the light of day and he wonders, briefly, if they're ghosts. If Taehyung's knuckles brushing carefully across his cheek are a phantom touch from a better time - what feels like a decade ago instead of merely a year. They were different people, the last time Taehyung touched him. He's not sure who they are now.

"Hey," Taehyung says, voice still a still raspy with sleep.

He's got an imprint on one cheek from the couch and his hair is sticking up on the right side, like it always tends to when he first wakes up. He looks the same, except he doesn't, too, because there is darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before, and next to that is fear and exhaustion that even their starving years couldn't instill. Jungkook wonders if it's all been caused by his sanctioning, if Taehyung really loves him that much.

It's a terrifying thought.

"Hey," he whispers back. His voice is getting better, and he's glad for that, at least - hates the worry in Taehyung and Jimin's eyes whenever he tries to talk. He's never liked worrying them, or any of his family, and he knows now that when Taehyung looks at him, he's searching for wounds, both physical and not, which is another terrifying thought.

Too much has happened, he thinks helplessly. We don't fit anymore.

Except Taehyung is pushing Jungkook's hair off of his forehead like he always used to in the mornings, radiating affectionate warmth. Except that Jungkook's stomach still twists like it did back then - a rush of longing and love and uncertainty. Except that when he scoots forward on the couch to hug Taehyung again, it feels like long-lost puzzle pieces connecting.

It's confusing and he wishes he knew what to feel.

"I'm so glad you're alive," Taehyung says. "I can't believe you're alive."

Alive ... what a strange term. Is he still alive, if it doesn't feel like all of him has survived?

This isn't helping, he decides. He needs to do something. He can hear clattering in the kitchen, probably Yoongi again, and he untangles himself from Taehyung. "Breakfast," he croaks as he stands from the couch. "Okay?"

Taehyung doesn't push him, or call him out on his distancing act, just nods and accepts the hand that he offers. "Okay," he says, squeezing and lets Jungkook lead him.

It isn't Yoongi in the kitchen, but Jimin. And Seokjin, who is mostly hovering nearby with a bemused look on his face.

"This is my kitchen," he says. "I'm capable of cooking in it."

"I was up first," Jimin says, swaying up on his tiptoes to grab a skillet from a hanging rack. There is already what looks like soup simmering on the stove in a large pot. "And I was hungry." He shoots Seokjin a dark look. "Besides you're probably used to people cooking for you, right?"

"I cook for myself," Seokjin insists, a frown on his face, and Jungkook feels nerves trill down his spine. It's instinctive, to want to intervene, to soothe any potential anger - and it's only Taehyung's hand still clasped in his that keeps him from falling into fawn mode.

A noise still escapes him, and Jimin and Seokjin's heads whip around. It's Seokjin that moves first, rounding the counter with a hand outstretched, probably intending to comfort. What Jungkook isn't anticipating is to be pulled behind Taehyung, who levels Seokjin with a protective glare.

"Don't touch him."

Seokjin freezes in the middle of the kitchen, eyes widening slightly. "I'm not going to hurt him," he says quietly.

"Your initials are on his arm," Taehyung snaps. "You saved Hobi-hyung, and I'm grateful for that, but you-"

"Taehyung," Jungkook interjects, forcing the word out as loudly as he can. He doesn't like this - this assumption that he needs defending. He's scared, yes, and there are landmines in his head that he seems to keep tripping over, but he's still capable of looking after himself. That hasn't changed. "It's okay."

He glances to where Jimin is still watching by the stove, an uncertain expression on his face. "He ... saved my life. He's okay. Stop."

Taehyung and Jimin exchange a long look, having one of their wordless conversations, and then Taehyung steps to the side. "Sorry," he mutters and Jungkook squeezes his hand in silent thanks.

The tension lessens slightly, after that. Jimin reluctantly asks for Seokjin's help cooking fish to go with the soup while Jungkook shows Taehyung how to set the table. He's informed by Jimin that Yoongi is in with Hoseok, who still hasn't woken up, and Namjoon left to get more groceries. (Taehyung marvels to him, privately, just how much food there is and Jungkook wants to say you get used to it, but that would be a lie. He's still amazed every time he gets to eat until he's full.)

When breakfast is almost ready, he slips into the guest bedroom. He hates seeing Hoseok lying so pale and uncharacteristically still on the bed - it feels like looking at a corpse - so he focuses on Yoongi perched in the chair. His head is bowed, spine curved with exhaustion, and he has a hand resting near Hoseok's on top of the blanket, positioned carefully so that he's close but not actually touching Hoseok.

"Hyung," Jungkook says and Yoongi's head lifts.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs, and he's been calling Jungkook that a lot since their reunion - much more than he used to in the outer sectors. Jungkook isn't sure if it's the shared trauma or the long separation that's brought out this sentimental side of Yoongi, but he doesn't really care. The pet name makes him feel warm and comforted either way.

"Breakfast," Jungkook says, drifting closer to the bed so he can touch Yoongi's shoulder. "Hungry?"

"No," Yoongi says and Jungkook frowns.

You should eat, he signs. Please.

Yoongi sighs, starting to cave, and Jungkook says, "please," just for good measure - as a finishing blow.

"Okay," Yoongi relents, standing and rolling the tension out of his shoulders. "Okay, real quick."

Jungkook squeezes his hand in thanks and then reaches out to gently smooth Hoseok's hair off his forehead - a silent assurance that they won't leave him alone for long. He notices that Yoongi copies him, the motion far more cautious than it would have been a year ago, and swallows through the sharp prick in the back of his throat.

They're all together again, but it doesn't feel like they quite fit in the same way they used to. He's scared they may never fit right again. But for now, Yoongi is nodding to him and murmuring, "lead the way, Kook-ah," and right. One step at a time and step one is breakfast.

He leads Yoongi out the door, closing it gently behind them.

_ _

He wakes up. He wasn't expecting that, and he thinks that maybe there actually is an afterlife, just like the matrons at the orphanage used to try to tell him, because he's blinking up at a white expanse of ceiling above him and he can feel something soft beneath him, and both of those things are impossible. Last he checked, he was bleeding out in a frigid abandoned warehouse - Taehyung's hand clutched tight in his own and Taehyung's worried face filling his vision.

So ... did he die?

He tries to sit up and groans at the immediate stab of pain radiating out from his side, fuck. Okay, not dead, then. Ouch. His brain feels muddled and sluggish, and he tries to think as he flops back onto the mattress. Gather data, it's what Yoongi would do.

So, Observation 1: he's in a room. This is a bed beneath him, a bed, holy shit - no. Focus. Observation 2: someone's bandaged his wounds. He can feel the faint pull of stitches when he shifts, so he's received actual medical attention. Observation 3: this isn't a hospital, though. Far too fancy. That's a wardrobe made of wood and he's pretty sure the paintings on the wall cost a fortune. Which means, Observation 4: he's in the inner sectors, maybe even Sector 1. Observation 5: he's high up - he can see the expanse of the city in the gap between the curtains. So he must be in an apartment.

He glances frantically down at his wrists, but there are no seals or tattoos. Observation 6: he hasn't been sanctioned. Officially. Could someone have found him? Decided to sell him off independently? It happens, he knows, and if an elite has enough money they'll just bribe an auction house to put a Marked on their records, as if they'd been legally sanctioned. That seems like the only logical explanation: a patrol found them in that warehouse and instead of killing them decided to make some money - oh god.

Taehyung.

Hoseok grits his teeth against the pain and hauls himself upright, then to his feet. His leg shrieks in protest and he grips the footboard to keep himself standing. His heart is hammering in his chest and all he can think about is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung - the last member of his family, his only remaining kid, he can't let anything happen to him, he can't.

He's dressed in soft, loose clothes, and there doesn't seem to be anything in the room that would make a good weapon. He settles for the lamp from the nightstand, hefting it through the burn in his side that travels down to his leg and back up - setting what feels like his whole body on fire. It doesn't matter. He needs to find Taehyung and then he can collapse again.

He can hear voices drifting from the main room, but it's impossible to make out what they're saying or how many of them there are. Injured to this extent, there aren't any good odds if he needs to fight them. He doesn't know what else to do, though. Pressing his ear to the door doesn't provide any further insight into who the voices might belong to. His leg is trembling from the effort of staying on his feet and he can feel that it's close to giving out. He shifts his grip on the lamp, heart still pounding, and reminds himself to be rational about this. What if he goes out there, ends up in a fight, and they kill him? Or move him? Should he wait for more information? Figure out exactly who has him and where they've taken Taehyung, and then plan an escape? That's what Yoongi would do, he knows that.

But goddamnit, he isn't Yoongi and he's so fucking tired of running.

So he lets himself fall against the door - loud enough for it to create an audible thud - and listens as the voices cease and footsteps approach. He backs up a wobbly step and raises the lamp, watching the door handle turn. It's a man, but that's all he sees before he swings as hard he can. He feels his stitches tear, blood gush down his side, and his vision whites out from the agony of the reopening wound. Faintly, he hears the person swear and drop to the floor before his own legs give out and he ends up on his back, gasping.

"Seok-ah," a far, far too familiar voice says, "what the fuck?"

Hoseok wants to laugh. Or cry. He's heard Yoongi in his head for a year and it seems he's finally gone mad enough (or is close enough to dying a second time) that now he's hearing him outside of his thoughts, too.

And then Yoongi's face fills his vision - Yoongi bent over him and frowning, panic in his eyes and a bruise forming on his temple. Holy shit, he's officially lost it. He's gone batshit or he's going to die in the next few seconds and Yoongi's come to guide him into the afterlife. Either way, it's so good to see him again that he can feel tears welling up immediately. Yoongi's eyes widen.

"Oh god," he says, almost frantic, and then familiar hands are cupping Hoseok's face, "oh god, hold on, okay? You tore your fucking stitches, you idiot, but you're gonna be okay. Keep breathing for me, Seok."

Wow. This hallucination is really intent on keeping him alive - how typical Yoongi.

Yoongi sits up, hands dropping from Hoseok's face, and bellows "Seokjin!" which is odd - who is Seokjin? Hoseok wonders if he's going into shock and tries to focus on his breathing, like Yoongi told him to. That seems like the most productive option at the moment, since his brain's gone off the rails.

(He's really glad Yoongi is here - that he gets to see even just a hallucination of Yoongi, at the end.)

There is a commotion above him, sounding tinny and distant in his ringing ears, and suddenly a stranger's face appears next to Yoongi's. Except he seems ... kind of familiar? Where has Hoseok seen him before?

"He tore his stitches," Yoongi is saying and the-Stranger-Who-Must-Be-Seokjin swears quietly, confirming his status as likely another hallucination - because why else would he respond to Yoongi?

"What did he do?" Seokjin asks, pushing Hoseok's shirt up.

"Brained me with a lamp," Yoongi says. "Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have left him alone."

"Not your fault," Seokjin says.

Someone else appears above Seokjin and Hoseok's brain really must be shutting down now, because he swears that it's Jungkook.

"JK," Seokjin says, glancing up at the wide-eyed hallucination wearing Jungkook's face. "Get my med kit, please. Quickly."

The hallucination vanishes and Hoseok sucks in another rasping gulp of air. His side is on fire, pain flaring even more when something presses against it, and his leg is a seething mess from just below his knee all the way to his toes.

"Hey," Yoongi says and the hands are back, fingers stroking along his sweaty, tear-stained cheek, "stay with me, okay?"

Hoseok's not sure that's possible - black is already bleeding in - and he licks his lips. Opens his mouth to say I love you, because Yoongi should hear that one more time, even if he's just a hallucination, but nothing comes out of his parched throat but a weak wheeze. And then the black wrenches him under swift and final and he -

Wakes up.

Same bed, same room, same soft clothes, but the light outside is different - the warm glow of afternoon instead of the pale of early morning - and there is a hand clinging to his own, a head of dark hair resting on the bed next to him.

Yoongi, he thinks, heart stuttering and mind reeling. Yoongi.

He's still here and now that some of the panic had receded, Hoseok notices that his hair is longer and his face is fuller than the Yoongi of his memories. So does that mean...? He shifts, the bed creaks, and Yoongi's eyes snap open. He lifts his head from the mattress and Hoseok's breath catches as he stares into familiar, fathomless brown.

"Am I dead?" he croaks out and Yoongi shakes his head.

"You got close, twice, but no. You're alive."

Hoseok lifts a trembling hand to touch Yoongi's cheek. "And so are you?"

Yoongi's expression softens, melting into a reflection of all the grief and love and awe Hoseok can feel battering his insides. "Yeah," he says, laying his hand over Hoseok's, keeping it pressed to his cheek. "I am."

"Oh my god," Hoseok hiccups. "Oh my god, Yoongi."

"Shh," Yoongi says, gently pushing him back down to the mattress when he tries to sit up. "Don't tear your stitches again, please, just-"

Hoseok makes a distressed sound and tugs on Yoongi's hand because even a chair by the side of the bed is too far away right now, he needs Yoongi closer. As close as possible. Yoongi swallows the rest of his words and complies, climbing onto the bed and laying down carefully next to Hoseok - arm around Hoseok's waist and forehead pressed to Hoseok's temple. Hoseok can feel the wet of tears on his skin, but he's not sure if they belong to him or Yoongi or if it even matters.

"You're alive," he whispers, squeezing Yoongi's hand as tight as he can. "You're alive."

"So are you," Yoongi whispers back. "You scared me so much, Seok."

Hoseok laughs and it fades into a wheeze as his side protests. His head is spinning with questions - how he ended up here, how Yoongi ended up here, where here is - but one is far more important than the rest.

"Taehyung," he says. "I was with Taehyung."

"He's safe," Yoongi assures him. Runs his through through Hoseok's hair, which he just now realizes has been washed. "He's here."

Hoseok exhales in relief and sags back against the pillows. "And ... where's here?"

Yoongi opens his mouth, but before he can answer the doorknob turns and someone peeks their head into the room. Jimin, Hoseok realizes with a jolt. Jimin is here, too.

"Sorry," Jimin says, "we were just checking."

And now he can see Taehyung peeking over Jimin's shoulder and he manages to prop himself up enough to extend an arm and rasp, "come here." Two of his kids and Yoongi - this feels like a miracle.

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a glance and then step into the room. Jimin's hand is clasped in someone else's, pulling him through the open door, and Hoseok sucks in a sharp breath when he sees exactly who it is.

He ... wasn't hallucinating?

"Jungkook-ah," he hiccups and tries to sit up, further - barely registers Yoongi shifting to steady him. "Jungkook-ah, is that really you?"

"Hyung," Jungkook whispers, letting go of Jimin's hand so that he can rush to the bed. He scrambles onto the mattress, slippers falling to the floor, and then his arms are around Hoseok and Hoseok is being pulled against his chest.

"Careful," Yoongi cautions, but it isn't very heartfelt, and Hoseok tucks Jungkook's face into his neck, holding on for dear life and shaking down to what feels like his bones. His whole family ... his whole family is together again.

The bed shifts as Yoongi's chest presses against his back - Yoongi's arms reaching around to cradle both him and Jungkook - and Jimin and Taehyung take a spot on either side of them. In the corner of his eye, he can see Jimin pressing a kiss to Jungkook's head and Taehyung resting his temple against Yoongi's, eyes closed and tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I can't believe it," he murmurs, shifting a hand up to stroke Jimin's hair. "You're all here."

Jimin nods and Jungkook makes an affirmative sound against his skin and fuck, Hoseok isn't ever going to let a single one of them go again. After another few minutes, though, his side starts aching too badly to ignore and the last thing he wants to do is tear his stitches again so he says, "need to lie back down."

Their tangle of limbs and bodies shifts. He ends up on his back with Yoongi tucked on one side and Jungkook on the other and Jimin and Taehyung framing them. Yoongi extends an arm across Hoseok's chest to pet the back of Jungkook's head, brush fingertips along Jimin's cheek. He looks like he can't quite believe any of this, either.

"Missed you," Jungkook whispers, hand fisted in the loose fabric of Hoseok's shirt. "Missed you so much, hyung."

Hoseok blinks back another round of tears and mimics Yoongi, stroking gently through Jungkook's hair. "I missed you, too, tokki." He looks up to meet Yoongi's red-rimmed eyes and wants to kiss him with what feels like every aching fiber in his body, but it will have to wait. There are walls in Yoongi that weren't there before - he can see them, tall and impenetrable. "Missed you both."

"None of you are allowed to leave," Jimin says, pressed up against Jungkook's back. "We're never doing this again."

"No, never," Taehyung agrees, fervent and teary.

And Hoseok knows it isn't that simple and the world isn't that kind, but for now he lets himself sink into the warmth of the family he never thought he'd see again, and drift to sleep.

_ _

Namjoon has spent the last twenty-four hours sleeping on Seokjin's couch and trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. It's strange, having this apartment so full of people. Jimin is as prickly as ever, eyeing him and Seokjin warily and probably still armed, but he softens around Jungkook and Taehyung, especially. Taehyung is quiet, almost blank - Namjoon finds it impossible to decipher what he might be thinking - but his eyes are alert and observant, cataloguing them and the apartment and everything happening in a way that's almost unnerving. Jungkook sticks close to them and Yoongi, but he's also fallen into the role of something of a peacekeeper. He clearly cares about Seokjin, and is quick to defend him, and that warms Namjoon's heart, especially knowing how much Seokjin cares right back.

And Hoseok. Well, until now, Hoseok's been little more than a body in a bed, which is why it's perhaps the most surreal of all to see him slip into the living room in the middle of the night. He's limping badly, balancing himself on furniture, but he's up and moving, which he isn't supposed to be.

Namjoon clambers off the couch, frowning.

"You shouldn't be up."

He's not sure how Hoseok managed to extract himself without waking Yoongi or any of the others, but they've had enough scares in the last day - they don't need him collapsing again.

Hoseok shrugs and carefully lowers himself into the nearby armchair. "I needed to understand, and Yoongi didn't want to tell me."

He glances around the living room and then back at Namjoon, gaze assessing. This is the man that Yoongi loves - Namjoon isn't sure why that's his first thought, but it is, rising unbidden. This is the man that Yoongi loves and he seems small and washed out by pain and the silvery light of the city, but he's strong. Namjoon can feel it in the air, almost, see it in the way he holds himself - he's every bit the survivor that Yoongi is.

"We thought you were gonna kill Yoongi," Hoseok continues. "That's what all the rumors said would happen."

Namjoon winces. "I've ... cultivated that reputation on purpose. To avoid suspicion. Seokjin and I - we get companions out of the city, to Busan or Gwangju. Give them fake papers, help them start over." He's not sure he should mention the coup, doesn't know how much of this is his to tell and how much needs to come from Yoongi.

"But Yoongi's still here," Hoseok says. "And Jungkook."

Namjoon nods. "They both ... chose to stay."

Hoseok's eyes narrow. "Why?"

"They didn't want to leave you," Namjoon says, and that isn't the whole truth, but he figures it's close enough for now.

Hoseok is quiet for a moment, mulling this over. "And now that we're here ... you'd let them go?"

"Yes." He would, without hesitation, even though he's self-aware enough to acknowledge that it would hurt. But he also knows that Yoongi doesn't want to leave, and he wonders now how Hoseok will take that news. If he'll be understanding, accepting, or if he'll be angry.

He supposes it depends on what kind of love is between the two of them.

Hoseok blows out a long breath and sags back against the chair, eyes slipping closed. Namjoon waits while he seems to rally himself, fighting off exhaustion so they can keep talking. "It must have been risky, bringing me and Jimin and Taehyung here - why take that chance?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

And maybe that isn't the whole truth, either. Maybe there are messy parts of Namjoon that he doesn't want examine - landmines in his ribcage, feelings he isn't allowed to have - but once again it's close enough. Namjoon's a good liar, keeps everything off his face, but Hoseok still laughs in disbelief.

"No one's that magnanimous."

"Why is it so impossible? You've risked your life because it's the right thing," Namjoon points out.

Hoseok huffs. "Yeah, and because I'm angry. And selfish enough to want something better."

"It was the right thing to do," Namjoon insists. "Yoongi ... Yoongi loves you. I couldn't let you die."

Hoseok's eyes widen slightly and Namjoon curses himself for revealing so much. He hates the curious way that Hoseok is looking at him now, like he's a puzzle Hoseok is trying to solve, like Hoseok is trying to peel back layer by layer, just like Yoongi at the start of all this. But Hoseok doesn't push him on it, doesn't demand answers, just nods slowly.

"Thank you, then," he says. "For saving my life."

"Thank Seokjin," Namjoon deflects, uncomfortable. "And Yoongi. And the others. I just drove a truck."

"More than any other elite would do," Hoseok insists.

"That's a low bar to scale."

Hoseok laughs again, then winces. "Yeah," he says grimly. "It really is."

Silence stretches on long enough to feel heavy and uncomfortable. Namjoon has so many questions boiling on his tongue, but he's not sure if he's allowed to ask any of them. At last Hoseok says softly, "you haven't hurt him."

It doesn't sound like a question, but Namjoon still shakes his head. "I would never hurt him."

"If you did, I'd kill you." Hoseok says it mildly, almost pleasantly, but Namjoon knows he means it. Knows that if anything happened to Yoongi at this point, and it was his fault, he'd let Hoseok do it without complaint. Which should terrify him, but it doesn't. There are far worse things for him to focus on.

"I understand," is all he says now and Hoseok nods at him.

The door to the guest room opens, then, and Yoongi darts out, looking frantic. He freezes when he spots Namjoon on the couch, then his gaze slides over to Hoseok in the armchair. Namjoon can't read the expression on his face, the one lurking beneath the worry. Fear? Nervousness? Is he afraid of what they might be talking about? Of the secrets they might reveal to each other?

Don't worry, Namjoon wants to tell him, they're safe with me.

Everything that Yoongi's whispered to him in the dark, every vulnerable piece of him that's been wrenched to the surface against his will - Namjoon will guard it all.

"Seok-ah," Yoongi says at last, coming over to the armchair to sink fingers into Hoseok's messy hair. "What the hell are you doing up?"

"I wanted to meet our host," Hoseok says simply, with a polite smile in Namjoon's direction.

"Well, you've met him," Yoongi says, glancing at Namjoon before turning his attention quickly back to Hoseok. "Now come the fuck back to bed before you pull your stitches again."

Hoseok makes a face at him, but it's affectionate, as is the smile tugging at Yoongi's lips. Namjoon has never seen Yoongi look at anyone like that.

"C'mon, Seok-ah," Yoongi says gently, helping Hoseok to his feet.

Hoseok groans softly, fingers digging into Yoongi's shoulder as he tries not to put too much weight on his bad leg.

"Do you need help?" Namjoon asks, already starting to rise, but Yoongi waves him off.

"I've got him, thank you."

Hoseok glances back and forth between them, that slightly calculating look in his eyes again. But all he says is: "It was nice meeting you, Namjoon-ssi."

Namjoon watches Yoongi carefully guide Hoseok back into the bedroom, watches the door click shut behind them, and puts a hand over his stomach, wanting to ease the strange churning in his gut. Everything is changing once again, shifting on a new fulcrum, and he hates the unknown future sprawled out before them. That he doesn't know where they'll go from here, if Yoongi will cave to Hoseok and leave; if any of them will want to help. There are too many possibilities, too many unpredictable moves on his mental chessboard.

Calm, he tells himself. One step at a time.

There are seven of them now. Who knows what they might be capable of?