☼ KAIROS ☽ Chapter 4: The After Party
“The American Music Award goes to...
BTS!”
The arena exploded.
For a moment, Namjoon wasn't sure he had heard correctly.
Then Jungkook grabbed his shoulder.
Hoseok was laughing.
And suddenly they were all standing.
The stage seemed impossibly far away.
Or maybe his thoughts were.
Thousands of people were screaming.
Yet all Namjoon could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat.
Amid the cheers and applause, he found himself speechless.
The microphone felt heavier than it should.
The members stepped aside without discussing it.
They always did.
He adjusted his grip on the microphone.
“I seriously forgot what I was going to say,” he admitted, earning a wave of laughter from the crowd.
Still, none of the members hesitated.
They trusted him.
“Thank you, AMAs. We're truly honored to be on this stage with such amazing, tremendous artists right over here. We're so honored. Thank you for this.”
Another round of cheers followed.
The words came slowly at first.
Then a little easier.
“I’m nervous,” he admitted.
The audience laughed again.
Somehow, that helped.
As he thanked the people who had made the night possible, the speech finally found its rhythm.
He was back on track.
Award shows had always fascinated him.
They were strange places.
Events that began one way and ended another.
People carefully crafted versions of themselves under flashing lights, only for reality to reveal something entirely different once the cameras were gone.
Namjoon knew that the moment BTS was announced as the winner, invitations to after-parties would start arriving.
They always did.
Success attracted people.
Attention attracted even more.
He was grateful for both.
But neither had ever been the reason they started.
“Eyes on the moon. Feet on the ground.”
Yoongi said that once.
Namjoon thought about it often.
After greeting other celebrities, taking pictures, and thanking the staff, they moved on to the press interviews.
By now, they knew the routine by heart.
Question after question.
Camera after camera.
Smile after smile.
Namjoon didn't mind it.
At least, not entirely.
What he enjoyed most were the rare moments when a conversation became something more than promotion.
A different perspective.
A different experience.
A different way of looking at the world.
The ones that reminded him how much there still was to learn.
And Namjoon had always loved learning.
Two hours later, they were sitting in a private dining room reserved by the company.
The screaming crowds had been replaced by grilled meat, tired smiles, and managers finally allowing themselves to relax.
Yoongi nursed a glass of whisky, engaged in a conversation that had somehow drifted from music to basketball.
Across the room, Jungkook had already convinced Jimin and Taehyung to get up from their seats. Whether they were dancing or simply making fools of themselves was open to interpretation.
Jin and Hoseok were documenting the entire evening.
Every few minutes, another photo was taken.
Another pose.
Another argument about who had captured the better angle.
Namjoon watched it all unfold from his chair.
He looked at some of the managers, flirting with some waitresses, showing off the band’s success as their own.
Yoongi eventually dropped into the empty chair beside him.
For a while, they simply watched the others.
The celebration.
The noise.
"You remember our first showcase?" Yoongi asked.
Namjoon laughed.
Yoongi took a sip of whisky.
"We were terrified."
"We still are."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Yoongi nodded toward the rest of the table.
"You should say something."
Namjoon frowned.
"I already gave a speech."
"Not that one."
Yoongi glanced at the members.
"This one."
Nam followed his gaze.
The people who had been there before the awards, before the stadiums, before America.
"Do it now," Yoongi added.
"Why now?"
"Because in an hour nobody will be listening."
Namjoon stood up, lifting his glass.
The room gradually quieted.
Not because he demanded attention.
But because after all these years, the members still looked at him whenever he stood.
"I'll keep this short."
Immediately, several people laughed.
Nam looked around the room.
"Tonight was incredible."
He paused.
"But the truth is, I don't think the awards are what I'll remember most."
The room became quieter.
"I think I'll remember this."
He gestured toward the table.
The food.
The conversations.
The people.
"Back then, when we were trainees, success looked very different."
A few knowing smiles appeared.
"I thought it would feel like arriving somewhere."
He shook his head.
"But every time we reach a goal, another one appears."
He paused.
"And I realized something."
His grip tightened slightly around the glass.
"The awards are important."
"The records are important."
"The dreams are important."
His voice softened.
"But none of them matter more than the people I got to share them with."
Silence.
The kind that only appears when everyone is trying not to feel too much.
Nam swallowed.
"I don't know what the future looks like."
"Maybe that's why tonight feels so special."
His eyes burned unexpectedly.
"Because for once..."
A small laugh escaped him.
"...I don't want to think about what's next."
Several members were already looking away.
Pretending not to be emotional.
Failing.
"I just want to stay here for a little longer."
He raised his glass.
"Thank you for choosing this journey."
His voice almost broke.
"Thank you for choosing each other."
Nobody spoke.
For a moment, the only sound came from the city outside.
Then glasses slowly rose around the table.
No one rushed to talk.
No one made a joke.
Some moments deserved to remain exactly as they were.
The celebration continued long after that.
More food arrived.
More drinks followed.
Conversations split into smaller groups.
Stories were told and retold.
Nobody seemed to mind.
Outside, the city kept moving.
Inside, time felt suspended.
By the time Namjoon glanced at his watch again, the sky beyond the restaurant windows had begun to lighten.
Dawn.
Somehow, they had celebrated through the entire night.
The managers were the first to disappear.
One by one, they offered congratulations, exchanged handshakes, and called it a night.
Some left alone.
Others left accompanied by waitresses who had spent the evening laughing at their stories.
Nobody commented on it.
They were all adults.
Besides, after a night like this, nobody felt particularly interested in judging anyone.
Eventually, only seven remained.
They piled into a company van shortly after.
Jungkook was already half asleep.
Jimin had his head resting against the window.
Yoongi looked seconds away from passing out.
Even Hoseok had finally run out of energy.
The city moved quietly outside as the driver started toward the hotel.
Then:
"Hyung."
Nam glanced into the rearview mirror.
Taehyung sat up.
His hair was a mess.
His eyes were slightly unfocused.
Which usually meant he was about to say something either brilliant or completely insane.
"Can we go to the beach?"
Silence.
The driver blinked, looking at Nam.
"The beach?"
"Yeah."
Taehyung pointed toward the brightening horizon.
"The sun's coming up."
Another pause.
"Right now?"
"Right now."
Namjoon expected at least one complaint.
Nobody offered one.
Jungkook was the first to nod.
"Sounds good."
"Let's do it," Jimin agreed.
Yoongi sighed.
"We're all idiots."
But he didn't say no.
Five minutes later, the van was heading toward the ocean instead of the hotel.
The road began to smell different before they even saw the ocean. Salt in the air. Wind pressing in through the slightly cracked window. A softness that didn’t exist in the city.
Then, finally, the coastline opened up.
The driver slowed as the road curved alongside the beach. No crowds. No cameras. Just empty sand stretching into a pale, waking sea.
“Here?” the driver asked quietly.
Namjoon looked at the others.
At the sleeping heads. The tangled limbs. The exhaustion that looked almost like peace.
“Here,” he said.
The van stopped.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Taehyung opened his door first, like he’d been waiting his entire life for that exact second.
Cold air rushed in.
One by one, they stepped out.
The sand was still cool beneath their shoes, untouched by the heat of the day that hadn’t arrived yet. The ocean rolled in slow, patient waves, as if it had all the time in the world.
Jungkook stretched, blinking hard.
“Why does this feel like we’re in trouble?” he murmured.
“We are,” Jin said, stepping out last. “Just not the legal kind.”
That got a tired laugh from Jimin.
Taehyung was already walking toward the water, sleeves rolled up like he intended to negotiate with the sea itself.
Namjoon stayed a step behind the others.
The sky was changing now. Not fully day yet, not still night.
No paparazzi in sight. No people in sight.
Just seven silhouettes against the edge of the world.
And it felt simple, in a way nothing else ever did.
Jin called out from the shoreline, already kneeling to touch the water.
“It’s freezing!”
Still, he walked forward anyway.
One by one, they followed.
Until the ocean reached their feet.
Until laughter replaced silence.
Until the night that had lasted too long finally softened into morning.
There, with the ocean and the sky as witnesses, they lost track of time.
The ride back to the hotel was a quiet one.
Nam looked over his shoulder from the passenger seat. The image was touching indeed.
Wet seats full of sand.
Jimin and Tae curled in a hug. Yoongi and Hoseok sleeping with their mouths open. Jungkook resting his head on Jin’s shoulder.
Nam exchanged glances with Jin, the last ones standing.
“Thank you for choosing us,” said Jin before falling asleep, too.
Nam said to himself that day was going to be in his memory for the rest of his life.
It was the sound of a crowd that woke them up.
Fans banging on the van.
Voices screaming their names.
Crying.
Taking pictures.
Recording.
They entered the hotel building as quickly as they could.
When Nam entered his suite, he found the main room a mess.
Food leftovers.
Spilled drinks.
Underwear.
He rolled his eyes.
A paper bag called his attention. “Zoomer Delivery” was written on a sticker, although torn, he could read it.
His head flew across his memories and he remembered where he had seen that logo before. That night, in that delivery girl’s uniform. The girl who was eating in the elevator.
There was only one person from the staff who’d call that company. Daniel Park.
His eyes drifted toward the bedroom door.
Then, before he fully registered the decision, he moved.
He didn’t knock.
The door opened with a quiet push.
Inside, the suite was dimmer than the main room. Messier. Lived-in in a way that made his jaw tighten instinctively.
There were voices. Laughter. Movement.
A group of women scattered across the room—some on the bed, some on the sofa, some half-dressed in the careless comfort of people who had stopped paying attention to time.
Daniel was somewhere deeper inside, partially visible between them, absorbed in the chaos.
Nam’s eyes moved quickly.
Scanning.
Not looking for anyone in particular.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
One by one.
Faces he didn’t recognize.
Laughter that didn’t concern him.
Hair, silhouettes, perfume, fabric, voices overlapping.
Nothing.
No trace of her.
The girl from the elevator wasn’t there.
A small, almost imperceptible breath left him—something between relief and something he didn’t want to name.
He didn’t realize he had been holding tension in his shoulders until it was released.
He took a step back.
No one had noticed him properly. Or if they had, they didn’t react enough to care.
Good.
Nam closed the door again.
Carefully.
Silently.
For a moment he stood in the hallway, expression unreadable.
Then he exhaled once, straightened his posture, and walked away from the suite.
Not toward the elevator.
Not toward the rooftop.
Just away.