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eight’s a crowd pt. 4 ~ bts

pairing: ot7 x reader

rating: sfw

word count: 6.6k

summary: you’re a bighit staff member in charge of stage set-up when you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the very seven men you’re setting stage for. soulmate au!

a/n: everyone... my beautiful followers... i’m so sorry it took me so long to post this! there will be one final part after this that will include smut. also i went to see aquaman tonight and it was so good. having jason momoa and amber heard kicking ass in the same movie made my little bi heart quiver lmao. also i want mommy nicole kidman to spank me with a trident. enjoy this update and i hope everyone has been having happy holidays!

disclaimer: i always put a read more in my fanfiction, but it does not always work on tumblr mobile. this fic has a read more already in place.

part 01 02 03 04 05

You were adjusting the sounding system in the pit when you felt a sudden weight on your back. You startled and turned around and found yourself pressed against Jae, who coddled you like a baby. He smelled like cologne and alcohol and something mechanical, vaguely oily and coppery.

“(Y/N),” he groaned, drawing your name out into one long sigh. If you weren’t so caught off-guard, you would have laughed. “We’re leaving early today!”

He was leaving early today. It was the last concert before the unimaginable—a month-long break. Set-up crew got to leave a whole half-day early, leaving mid-crew to pick up a little of their slack. But you knew they deserved it, especially since they’d been short-handed after you left.

It was hard to imagine that it had been a whole month since you’d switched to mid-crew, and even longer since you’d met Bangtan. Sometimes, it didn’t feel real. You missed your old set-up crewmen, but it was hard to miss them too much when there were seven other people around to eagerly keep you company.

Jae’s bag was already slung over his shoulder, and you knew he was about to leave. Your break didn’t technically start until after the concert tonight, and true to mid-crew form, you’d be staying with Bangtan wherever they went. The thought filled you with unimaginable excitement—for a month, you’d get to be with them without having to worry about work or scheduling.

“Remember to teeeeeeeext,” Jae slurred, clutching you to his chest. You patted his shoulder awkwardly, face smushed into his clavicle. “You never teeeeeeext anymore.”

“I text you every day,” you complained, your voice muffled by his flannel.

“But it’s not enoooooough,” he moaned. He was probably already a little intoxicated—a few people in set-up crew had already broken out a bottle of vodka in celebration, and no doubt Jae had already indulged.

You asked, incredulous, “How much more do you want?”

“I don’t care. I miss you,” he admitted, and you cooed at his cuteness.

“I miss you, too,” you laughed, pulling away from him. “But you need to get on the bus before they leave without you.”

“They would never,” Jae scoffed, but you raised an eyebrow. Sungjin would. Oh, Sungjin so would. And you could tell in his gaze that he realized that, too. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving. But I love you! I’ll text! Don’t think just because you’re famous now that you can get rid of me!”

He said this all while walking backward, voice raising with every sentence. Some of your other mid-crewmen stared at you curiously, and you waved Jae away in embarrassment. Your good rapport as a hard-worker had carried to your new job, but you still didn’t know the rest of mid-crew well enough to be weird in front of them.

You weren’t famous by any definition of the term, but you’d garnered a certain amount of attention in the past month. It was impossible not to, considering at least one member of Bangtan was around you every day. It was easy to pass off some of it as work, but the rest of the crew had to at least suspect that your professional relationship with them went deeper. No one had said anything about it, at least not to your face, and you were grateful that at least a portion of the people you worked with knew how to mind their own business.

Working for another hour, you were finally setting up the last of the lighting equipment. You were usually the quickest crewmember to finish your work, simply because set-up crew had conditioned you so well. When you finished early, you either helped set up the rest of the venue or went to seek out Bangtan to see if they had any time to hang. Because their schedule was so packed, they usually didn’t, but it was still nice just to see them. Their faces would light up whenever they caught sight of you, even to this day.

You reached up to adjust the light, and a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Electricity buzzed through your body immediately. “Hey, baby.”

“Oh, my God,” you exclaimed. “Why is everyone sneaking up on me today?”

“Not happy to see me?”

You turned your head and saw Jimin smiling, bottom lip tugged between his teeth. He fake-pouted, and you had to suppress the sudden desire to wrap him in a hug and never let him go.

“I’m always happy to see you,” you replied, before you could stop yourself. Your face flushed, but so did his, which was your favorite thing about him—at least you could make him blush, too.

Jimin pressed his cheek against the back of your neck hard, and then released you. You kept tinkering, despite the sudden distraction.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said. “The sound system on the left side burnt out this morning. We were able to replace it, but the sound check before the concert is probably gonna start early.”

Jimin grunted in acknowledgement, and you continued talking, back still facing him.

“And you need to be careful. There’s a slick spot by the—,”

“Mhmm,” Jimin hummed. His voice was closer than you expected and you turned around, freezing when you realized he was right behind you. Jimin’s mouth curled into a small smile, and he reached out to tuck a hunk of escaped hair behind your ear. “You look good in that sweater.”

“Thank you,” you replied automatically, but your heart stuttered.

Out of all Bangtan, Jimin was the touchiest. He was the one who complimented you the most, voice edging on flirting. Whenever he smiled his teasing smile, your face would heat up hot enough to fry an egg on your forehead.

“Can we stop by your hotel room after the concert?”

He could have asked you to commit second-degree murder and you probably would have agreed to it, if he kept looking at you like that. “Yeah, s-sure. I mean, yes. If it’s okay with BangPD and everyone.”

“We already approved it,” he grinned, unconsciously leaning closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. To the outside world the two of you may have looked like a couple, but in the past month, you’d slowly learned how to let go of the world’s opinion. You didn’t care what they assumed about your relationship unless it negatively affected Bangtan’s career.

“Oh?” you asked, smiling your own teasing smile. “Were you that confident I’d agree?”

Jimin’s face flushed, and that was normal for him, too—always so flirty, until the teasing was turned on him. Then he became a shy mess. “Well, I mean—not that we knew you’d agree, but you usually—and then we, um—,”

You couldn’t help but smile at his cute stuttering, but then your smile faded, stamped down by the sudden guilt and confusion bubbling in your chest.

When you’d first started hanging out with Bangtan, dazzled and starstruck, you’d thought whatever silly crush you had on them would fade. After getting to know them, you’d thought you’d come to love them only platonically.

But your crush—or should you say, crushes—spiraled completely out of control. Bangtan had thoroughly swept you off your feet.

How could you have fallen for seven different men? Being alone with each of them, or several at a time, filled you with such a strong happiness that was only rivaled by how you felt when the eight of you were together. Then, the world felt clicked into place, like a weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying was lifted off your shoulders.

“I need to get back to work,” you told him, taking a step back. Distance. You needed to create some distance, no matter how much it hurt. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin replied, pouting. You resisted the urge to pull him to your chest and coo.

You moved to turn around, but before you could, Jimin dipped closer for a split second and pressed his lips against your cheek. Face flaming, you turned to him with mouth agape, but Jimin was already backing away toward the door, lips curled in a teasing smile.

After he left, you absent-mindedly rubbed your cheek, still feeling the tingling imprint of his mouth on your skin.

Ten minutes later, your phone buzzed in your pocket, signaling a text. It vibrated again. And then a third time. It must be the group chat you were in with Bangtan, which could get ridiculously active. You glanced around for your manager and snuck your phone out of your pocket, just when it started vibrating multiple times in a row.

Namjoon, 1:35pm: So, party in (Y/N)’s room tonight?

Hoseok, 1:36pm: SWEET i’ll give the staff money to go buy snacks

Jimin, 1:38: remember to ask for TWO boxes of popcorn because :/ someone :/ ate it all :/ last time

Yoongi, 1:39: quit being so shady and just @ jungkook already

Jungkook, 1:39: IT WAS

Jungkook, 1:39: LITERALLY JIN-HYUNG

Jungkook, 1:40: NOT ME

Jimin, 1:40: WHAT?

You chuckled and glanced around quickly, typing a quick message.

You, 1:42: I’ll message you guys when I’m done with cleaning the stage and then you can come over. I’m putting the group chat on silent tho bc I’m still at work.

Already, your message prompted several quick replies.

Hoseok, 1:42: (Y/N)! <3

Jin, 1:43: We will not be silenced!!!!!!!!

Jimin, 1:43: HYUNG U SAID JUNGKOOK ATE THE POPCORN U LIAR

Taehyung, 1:44: lmao OOPS

Taehyung, 1:44: caught in a liiiieeeeee~~~

*Jimin has removed Jin from the chat*

*Namjoon has added Jin to the chat*

Namjoon, 1:46: Quit removing people from the chat just because they piss you off

*Jimin has removed Namjoon from the chat*

Yoongi, 1:47: as expected

“(Y/N)!” your manager called, almost making you drop your phone. You looked up guiltily and were lucky to discover she wasn’t even looking at you—she was too busy trying to keep a stage light standing. “Could you come over here and help me fix this?”

Sighing in relief, you pocketed your phone and went to help your manager. You liked your manager a lot, but she still made you nervous. You made sure to stay on your best behavior when she was around.

You held the top of the light while she screwed it into place, and when she was finished, she beamed up at you. “Thank you! And I’m glad you’re here.” Her bright look turned apologetic, so you knew you were in for some serious shit. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?” you asked, cautious.

“Ji-sung is out sick tonight,” she admitted. “We need another crewmember in the camera pit. I know you don’t like going near the crowd, but you have the most experience with the stage material and I’d think you’d be a huge help to them.”

The breath left your chest. “I don’t know, I really—,”

“I know it’s last minute,” she interrupted, “and I know it’s a little inconvenient, but you’re our best replacement. It would only be for tonight.”

Your teeth clinked together, nervous. You were not a crowd person, and the camera pit was right in front of it. They were the pit that was most at risk of being tramped or attacked.

But you really wanted to leave a good impression with your new manager.

“Yeah,” you said, slowly. “That’s fine, (Y/M/N). I’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, thank you!” she gushed. “I’ll tell the camera crew. Think of it as a blessing! It’s basically a front-row ticket.”

A front row ticket in front of a writhing mass of fanaticism. Really, you didn’t mind people. People were smart—until you put them in a crowd. Then they were a hazard.

“Call time is 6:15!” And with that she flounced away, far too happy to be at work. Your manager truthfully was a different creature.

You let out a deep breath and shook your head. “Goddamn it.”

You distracted yourself with idle work leading up to the concert. It felt like everything and nothing needed to be done. You already knew Bangtan was busy with sound check and weren’t available, but that didn’t stop your from peeking your head in every once in a while to listen to them.

All you had to do was make it through the concert, and then the eight of you could finally relax.

You weren’t present for sound check, like you usually were. Instead you were busy introducing yourself to the camera crew and modifying their equipment. By the time the venue finally allowed people to start filing in, you were called away to help with lighting while the camera crew set up in front of the stage, so you didn’t get a chance to even wave at Bangtan until just an hour before the concert.

Walking into the waiting area, Namjoon’s head shot up immediately, and his gaze found your own. You smiled, and then the rest of Bangtan was turning their head. Hoseok waved manically.

You dodged a few frantic crewmen still trying to finish setting up before the concert began. Taehyung was the first to hug you, nuzzling into the side of your neck. Jin rubbed his hand along your shoulder and you smiled at them gratefully.

“We missed you during sound check,” Yoongi said, slightly pouting in a way that he would deny to be pouting, except it definitely was.

You sighed. “I’m not doing sound check tonight.”

“You look upset,” Hoseok noticed, and once he’d said it, the entirety of Bangtan circled you in concern. It was overwhelming in a good way, a flattering way, and you liked it because you weren’t used to people trying to take care of you. Jin cupped your cheek in one hand, analyzing your face.

“I’m fine,” you assured them. “I’m just nervous. I’m replacing Ji-sung in the camera pit tonight and I’ll have to be in the crowd.”

Namjoon nodded his head in understanding. “It can be overwhelming.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered. “I’m afraid I’m gonna get dragged backward and trampled, never to be seen again.”

Jeongguk laughed. “That won’t happen, don’t be nervous.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for you,” Jimin said, and you realized he was smirking. “You’ll be in the front row. It’s the best seat in the house.”

“We’ll perform well for you,” Taehyung added.

“When do you not?” you asked, and then backtracked. “Perform well, I mean—not like, perform well for me—uh—,”

Jin laughed at your flustered expression. “Just keep your eyes on us the entire time and you’ll survive.”

You were certain that doing just that would be what killed you.

The eight of you chatted for a bit more until it was time for you to leave. Hoseok must have noticed how nervous you looked, because he leaned close to you for a second and planted a second kiss on your cheek. You didn’t see it, but Bangtan eyed him jealously.

“It’ll be fine,” he chirped, and you smiled.

“I’ll see you after the concert,” you told them, and then made your way to the stage.

The venue was an arena, and it was huge. The camera pit was set up in a small section in front of the middle of the stage, to avoid blocking a majority of the crowd view. It was protected by thin guard railing and a hanging sign that would do nothing to deter someone who was really interested in bypassing it. The second you stepped by the crowd your hair stood on end, but you put on a brave face and approached the pit, speaking with the camera crew. There really wasn’t much for you to do except help them with emergencies and fill in where you could.

You couldn’t help but glance back at the crowd. They were getting antsy, and so were you. It was like their infectious energy was seeping into you. You barely resisted the urge to scream when the concert began, and the entire crowd went wild.

The energy Bangtan brought to the stage was insane. It was like the entire arena was cradled in the palm of their hand. It didn’t matter who you were—if you were a fan, an employee, a stranger on the street—in that moment, they owned you. There wasn’t a choice about it.

It was amazing because at that moment you weren’t their coworker, or a BigHit employee—you were just a fan at a concert, who’d somehow gotten a really, really good seat. Seeing them perform so closely to you made your heart stop.

And throughout the entire concert, Bangtan kept staring at you.

You knew, logically, that they weren’t staring at you—they were staring at the camera. But you couldn’t help but feel like they were staring at you, trying to catch your eyes with their dancing and obscene hip thrusting. You were barely able to resist the urge to cover your face whenever it happened, giving in a few times when you were just too flustered to look. The camera crew, who were used to such a display, laughed at your embarrassment.

Sometimes they would point in your direction, stick their tongue out—Jimin, boldest of the seven on stage, laid on his back and thrusted into the air not one foot away from the lip of the stage, directly in front of you.

Heat was coiled so deeply in your stomach, you were afraid you’d explode.

Near the end of the concert, you got a message from your manager over your headset—since you’d done her such a big favor, she was letting you leave after the concert was finished instead of staying to help clean afterward. You were intensely grateful, because you were sweating and flustered and really didn’t know how much more you could take. You bid the camera crew goodbye and made your way backstage once Bangtan exited, the screaming of the crowd echoing as you walked further and further way.

Once in the back, you looked for them excitedly. It wasn’t often you got to see them directly after a concert. You were still hot and bothered, but you tried to push it to the back of your mind as your gaze snagged on them, all seven by the very edge of the stage.

“Hey!” you called, and the second Namjoon caught sight of you, his face split into a dimpled grin that almost made your heart stop.

He strode toward you, and you didn’t realize what he was doing until he swept you up in a hug and spun you around, giggling. Bangtan was right behind him, and suddenly you were in the middle of the sweatiest group hug you’d ever had in your life.

“How was it?” you heard Jimin ask, although you couldn’t see him through all the people in the way.

“It was amazing,” you replied. “Really, you all did fantastically.”

“It’s because we knew you were watching,” Hoseok declared. “You’re our good luck charm.”

You laughed and pulled your bottom lip through your teeth, looking away. A small smile curled your lip, and Jeongguk took you by the chin and planted a quick kiss to your cheek.

“So cute,” you thought you heard him breath, but you couldn’t be sure over the noise still echoing throughout the arena.

“Are you doing an encore?” you asked, and Jin nodded.

“Yeah, we’re gonna rest for a moment and go back out.”

“I got off a little early, so I’m gonna head back to my room and shower, okay? Come over whenever you want. I think Namjoon already has an extra copy of my room key.”

“We’ll come over the second we’re done,” Taehyung said, and then he was hugging you too, your face buried in his neck. “Thank you for watching us.”

“I always watch you,” you admitted. “I’m just never in the front row.”

Jimin’s grin was sharp and sly. “We know.”

You shooed them off, watching them glance back at you as they prepared to go back on stage. You waved them goodbye until they were gone, and then even peeked through the curtain to watch them from the sideline for a moment. I was just like all that time ago, when you’d caught a sneak peek of them before running into Jeongguk, except now you had permission to be here. Now you knew them. And now you knew just how much they meant to you.

Your hotel room was on the second floor next to the venue. You were still one of the only women in mid-crew, and had secured yet another room to yourself. It had two beds, and you threw your bag down on the closest one before showering and changing into something more comfortable. You put on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt and sat down to start browsing Netflix, looking for a new movie to watch. You thought, vaguely, about taking a moment to take care of the heat still simmering on low in your stomach, but knew you’d never be able to look them in the eye if you did something like that right before they came over.

After just over an hour, you heard the door unlock, and you perked up just in time to watch it swing open and reveal the seven people behind it.

“We’re here!” Hoseok hollered, and you laughed.

“And we brought towels,” Jimin informed. You noticed that they were still wearing their makeup, and were still in their stage clothes. They must have really come straight from the concert to your hotel room. Namjoon was the last of the seven to file in, and he held up a huge bag of food for you to see.

“We also ordered takeout,” he said, sheepishly. He knew how much you hated it when they spent money on your food.

You took the bag and shot him a mock-glare. “Go take a shower. You all stink.”

You were glad they’d brought extra towels, because the seven of them rotated through your shower like madmen before getting dressed and climbing into bed. You were sure they were used to such a routine, which explained how they did it so efficiently. You all chatted and ate while everyone showered, celebrating and laughing. It only took thirty minutes for everyone to get settled.

Jeongguk wanted desperately to watch a horror movie, and you relented and allowed it, all of you climbing into one bed. You ended up pressed against Jin, and his hair was still damp from the shower, and he smelled clean and fresh and manly. You had to bite your lip to resist leaning forward and burying your face in his neck.

An hour later, Jimin whispered, horrified, “Oh, no.”

“She’s so dumb,” Taehyung muttered. “She deserves to die.”

Hoseok curled further into himself, and you felt him rocking back and forth on the bed while you clutched your own pillow to your chest. The room was pitch black, except for the glow of the television screen.

The main character took another hesitant step forward, toward the murderer hiding within the house, and toward certain death. The scene was quiet, ominous music played in the background—you all knew a jump scare was coming soon.

“This isn’t even realistic,” Yoongi said. “The fake blood is too thick—,”

Namjoon interrupted, hissing, “Quit talking during the movie.” Not a second later, the murderer jumped out on the screen, making Namjoon yelp. You jumped, and Jin let out a shrill shriek.

The screaming on the screen was drowned out by everyone’s sudden gasp and Jeongguk’s maniacal giggling.

“Hyung—,” he tried to say, pressing his fist against his mouth. “Hyung—what noise what that?”

Jin’s face was red. “That wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?” Jimin cackled.

“It was (Y/N).”

“Don’t pin that on me,” you immediately countered. “My voice doesn’t even go that high.”

Jeongguk dissolved into giggling again, while Jin’s face heated further.

“I can’t hear,” Yoongi snapped, still paying attention to the movie.

You didn’t know what time it was, and you didn’t care. For once, you didn’t have to worry about going anywhere.

Once the scary movie was finally over, you all decided to watch something lighter to calm down. Jimin picked out a rom-com that had most of you groaning, but no one protested enough to change his mind. It was fun to laugh, but whenever a romantic scene came on, you couldn’t help but eye them nervously. You were afraid that your ridiculous affection would suddenly be tattooed on your forehead.

In the particular movie you were watching, two people fell in love at first sight. It was almost like they were soulmates, and you sighed. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the movie, but watching a movie like that was hard when you were surrounded by seven people you loved but knew would never love you back.

“Have you ever been in love?” Jeongguk asked, suddenly. It took you a stuttered second to realize he was speaking to you, wide and dark gaze unreadable in the low light. You realized that the movie was already over halfway finished, and you’d been distracted for a majority of it.

You stared at him for a long time, lost in thought. It felt like the entire room was waiting for your answer with bated breath, and for the first time in a long time, you felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Not like that,” you said. “And I don’t know if I’d want to be.”

Jeongguk looked away, but Namjoon drew your attention as he asked, “What do you mean?”

It was hard to explain, and you weren’t sure how to begin. How did you tell these men that you wanted that type of love so desperately, you could taste it on the tip of you tongue? How did you describe to them how much it scared you, enticed you, beckoned you for more? A type of love you could only read about, hear about in movies. The type of love only shared between soulmates?

It was easier, pretending not to want it. Because if you pretended not to want it, then you wouldn’t have to live with the crushing disappointment of never having it.

“That type of love doesn’t exist,” you ended up saying, because you were a coward, and intimately aware that you’d managed to fall in love with every single one of them, so who were you to be so greedy?

“I don’t think that’s true,” Jimin said, quietly. The movie was just a humble hum in the background, barely audible. “Maybe you just haven’t found it yet.”

It hurt, thinking about it. Hope could be just as painful as it was uplifting. “If it does exist, I don’t need it to be happy.”

They’d ruined you, you realized. There would be no one after them. Any chance you’d had of finding mediocre love with a man who made you happy but didn’t light a fire in your soul was dashed, and all because for the first time in your life, you’d found people that made you feel alive.

“Of course, you don’t need it. But what if someone wanted to give it to you?” Taehyung inquired.

You turned your head and looked away from them, considering and contemplating fruitlessly. “I don’t know.” The mood in the room plummeted, and you couldn’t help but think it was your fault. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jin whispered. “Sorry for interrupting the movie.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, only a little awkwardly. “I wasn’t really paying attention anyway. Do you want to watch something else?”

They agreed, and finally settled on the first episode of a crime show you’d never heard of but pretended to watch avidly. Several of them glanced at you from the corner of their eyes, but you tried your best to ignore it.

By the time early dawn was creeping at your window, it was already decided that Bangtan would spend the night. Such was your routine. You ended up squished in one bed with Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon, with Jin and the maknae line on the other bed. Everyone was so tired that sleep came easily, but you still lingered awake, thinking and worrying about the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

You needed to distance yourself from them, or tell them how you felt. You knew they’d never return your affection, but at least you wouldn’t feel guilty about lying to them.

I’m in love with you, I’m sorry. I need some distance to think.

It would almost be easy, but you didn’t want to see the look on their faces when you confessed. You would probably sound crazy. Who fell in love with seven people? They would probably think you were faking it because they were handsome, rich, and successful.

No, no, you knew that was your insecurity talking. But you also knew your friendship with them would never be the same afterward. You weren’t sure if you were ready to lose them.

You were so tired. You wished you could just fall asleep and not worry about anything until the morning.

“You can relax,” Yoongi whispered, suddenly. His voice was low and gruff and muddled by sleep.

You almost startled. Yoongi was lying right next to you, and you’d held yourself rigid to avoid touching him. You were afraid of making him uncomfortable. You could feel the pressure of Hoseok’s back against your own, but he was already fast asleep.

“M’fine,” you murmured. Yoongi snorted at how tired you sounded and scooted closer, until you had to actively fight not to sink next to him.

“Come here. It’s fine.”

You hesitated for a moment longer before settling down, letting Yoongi’s weight on the mattress roll you closer until you were pressed against his side. You rested your head against his chest, intertwining one leg between his. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” you whispered into his sweatshirt, voice almost slurred with how sleepy you were. You wished you were at least coherent enough to appreciate his sudden closeness. “Are you comfortable?”

“So comfortable,” he muttered, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. He maneuvered until his arm was underneath your head, fingertips drawing idle patterns across your back. “So, so comfortable.”

You laughed and looped your arm around his middle. “You’re such a sap.”

Yoongi’s body was incredibly warm, and you angled your face upward toward his neck. You could feel Hoseok’s back pressed against your own, and you wanted him to turn around and wrap you between him and Yoongi like a Bangtan sandwich. You dispelled the thought a moment later, knowing that it would lead nowhere except to awkward heartbreak.

“You smell good,” Yoongi said, instead of replying.

Unconsciously, you took a deep breath and smelled him. He smelled like the hotel’s scented body wash and whatever leftover cologne he’d put on before the concert. “You do, too.”

“Did you enjoy the concert?”

“I always do.” In the dark of the hotel room, with the only sound being the rest of Bangtan’s steady breathing, you felt safely cocooned. It was like living in a different world, where whatever pain and heartache you felt could be left outside, and inside this haven you could finally be free. “Sitting in the crowd, watching the seven of you do what you do. . . you just take my breath away.”

He went quiet. You were almost embarrassed for being so open with him, but blanketed by warmth and darkness, you found yourself too tired to care. Yoongi’s chest was moving up and down steadily underneath your cheek, and the soothing feeling was steadily pushing you toward sleep, until he broke the still and earnest silence.

“It’s better, now that you’re here,” he admitted, in a voice almost too quiet to be heard. “You make us better.”

“Mhmm, Yoongi,” you murmured, face still pressed against his chest. You were so tired, and your body was so heavy. You would never get over this feeling, of being able to exist absolutely comfortable in their presence. Hoseok shifted behind you, and you felt the curve of his spine through the thin material of your t-shirt.

“Yeah, baby?”

You hummed again, slipping further out of consciousness. You thought you heard him chuckle before he drew you closer, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You cuddled closer to him and sighed, the beating of seven other hearts lulling you to sleep.

~~~

You woke up that morning cold, and a little bit barren. You didn’t understand why until you shifted and didn’t feel anyone next to you. Your hand met warm pillow, which meant you hadn’t been abandoned for long, but was still less satisfying than finding a warm body.

You nuzzled sleepily into your pillow and almost hummed, until the low sound of whispering caught your attention.

For a moment, you were too tired to listen, but as the whispering went on, you slowly starting paying more and more attention. Then, you recognized voices.

“We need to tell her,” someone said. You perked up at the mention of a her—you? Another woman?

“We can’t,” Jeongguk despaired. “You heard her last night. We need to give her more time.”

“You were the one that was so eager in the first place,” Yoongi hissed. “You’re the one who asked all that shit last night!”

“Be quiet,” Namjoon scolded. “She’s still sleeping.”

You turned your head just slightly, and caught sight of the hotel clock—it was only six o’clock in the morning.

“I just feel like we’re lying to her,” Taehyung whispered.

“It’s not lying if we plan on telling her later,” Hoseok said. “Now just isn’t the right time.”

Jimin butted in, saying, “It’s been over a month. What if there isn’t a right time?”

“We’re being too hasty.”

“We’re being impatient.”

“We’re wasting precious time!”

You sat up in bed slowly, and it was as if all of the air in the room was suddenly vacuumed away. Taehyung made a distressed noise in the back of his throat, and you asked, “What are you talking about?”

Your voice was soft and gruff with sleep, but still auditable. Someone in the room gulped.

No one said anything. You could see them now, piled together on the other bed, Jimin and Namjoon braced on the edge while the other five cowered behind them. You shifted until you were sitting directly across from them. The blanket was bunched around your waist, and your hair probably looked a mess, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Your nose twitched, and you asked again, “What are you talking about?”

The silence stretched impossibly longer. Everyone was looking between you and Namjoon, but even he seemed at a loss for what to say. You glanced at each other their faces, trying to analyze them for weakness. Someone would have to talk—someone would inevitably break.

“We’re in love with you,” Jimin blurted out. Everyone turned to glare at him while you gasped, raggedly. It was like a bucket of water being thrown over you.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. For a moment you were too afraid to speak, until you breathed out an uncertain, “What?”

“We’re in love with you,” Jimin repeated, softer, slower. “All seven of us.”

Unconsciously, you shook your head. It didn’t seem possible, and your brain was having trouble making sense of it—there was no way in Heaven or Hell that all seven men in Bangtan were in love with you. You were nothing, compared to the women that surrounded them daily. You were nothing, compared to the money and the fame they had. You were nothing. Maybe you were still dreaming, and this was all just an elaborate fantasy.

Jin was quick to do damage control. “It’s not as weird as Jimin makes it out to be.”

“Actually, it’s weirder,” Yoongi commented, dryly. “We’re soulmates.”

To himself, Namjoon muttered, “God, we’re so bad at this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t move to speak further.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means,” Yoongi continued, “that the eight of use are meant to be together. Every single one of us. We were meant to be together since the day we were born.”

“It’s not something we can explain easily,” Hoseok winced. “But the seven of us already knew what to expect, when it happened. Meeting your soulmate is like finding a missing part of yourself. It’s touching another person and knowing they hold a piece of you.”

“It’s looking into someone else’s gaze and seeing yourself reflected back at you,” Taehyung added.

“It’s filling a hole in your heart without even realizing it was there,” Jeongguk finished, quietly.

Namjoon decided to interrupt, saying, “We know it’s hard for someone who hasn’t seen it before to understand. That’s why we haven’t said anything until now.”

You looked up at the ceiling, not sure what to say. A part of you wished they would have told you sooner, but another part knew you wouldn’t have been ready to hear it.

“Didn’t you feel something?” Jimin asked, leaning forward on the bed. “When we first met, when we were finally all together? Didn’t something about it just feel right?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, and your voice was embarrassingly weak. “I—uh—,”

You must be going insane. Soulmates didn’t exist, and if they did, you certainly would have seven of them—and they certainly wouldn’t be the entirety of Bangtan. All talented, handsome, special—and then plain, boring you? Nothing about it made sense when it was laid out in front of you, logical and analyzed.

But you couldn’t forget that feeling you’d had, when you’d first met them—all the heated touches, the electricity, how comfortable they made you. That feeling you’d had in the car, when Namjoon had shut the door and suddenly the world didn’t spin on a titled axis, suddenly a layer of static was lifted from your brain, and for once you could be at peace.

You couldn’t forget the rightness, buried deep in your chest.

“Why me?” you asked them. “I just don’t see why me.”

“Because you’re the only person in the world meant just for us,” Jeongguk breathed, and his voice was reverent, and the seven of them looked at you like you were something to be worshiped.

And it was too much. Your insecurity, your confusion—they pilled on top of each other and multiplied and multiplied, filling your body and your chest and it was too much.

You stood abruptly, startling them. “I think I need to leave.”

“Don’t go,” Jimin immediately begged, reaching out to you.

You took a step back. “I-I’m sorry. I need to think. I can’t think clearly when you’re all here.”

“Then we can leave,” Namjoon started to say. “This is your hotel room—,”

But you turned before they could stand, and you were out of the hotel room before they had time to stop you.

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