"Until now, I knew this of myself:
That if you had thrown yourself down
Into the lion's den
My brother, I'd follow you in."

Iscariot, Walk the Moon

November 2012

It was a year ago in September when Taehyung first met Kim Seokjin.

A year ago, the trainees were in the practice room when the managers brought Taehyung around to meet them. He'd felt tiny and frail among so many sharp-eyed strangers, and he was so far from home that he measured the distance with every single step. Because she knew of the harsh winters in Seoul, his Mom had bought him a fine goose-down coat – candy red and trimmed with fur. Even though it was still warm in September, Taehyung wore his coat like a snail wears a shell, like he carried his home on his back. He's outgrown the coat now, but it hangs in the dorm closet because he can't bear to part with it.

When Taehyung had entered the practice room, the managers signaled for the trainees to cut off the music and come meet the new recruit. There were six older boys then, and one much younger who looked warily inquisitive as he watched them file in.

The practice room smelled of damp heat and kimchi. The older boys crowded in like a schoolyard gang. One of them leaned in to whisper to another, one word, crisply enunciated: Baepsae. Both boys chuckled, but the whisperer's laugh was a hollow, bellowy sound, the kind of showy laugh used by game show hosts and used car salesmen.

Before the managers could speak, Taehyung jutted his chin at the older boy and said, "Are you concerned for me? There's no need, because I'm never fake."

The accusation was clear: Taehyung was the real deal, while the whispering boy, for all his broad-shouldered splendor, hid behind the wall of his insults.

Someone in the back cackled. After a second of shocked silence, the rest followed.

And the whisperer... his whole demeanor shifted: the narrow of his eyes, the set of his shoulders, all of it seemed to melt, instantly replaced by a look of relief, like he was glad to finally drop the disguise. He nodded, once, and grinned at Taehyung, showing every one of his perfect, pearly teeth.

The managers introduced them: The wary boy was Jungkook, the maknae. The cackler was Yoongi, from Daegu like Taehyung, and his friend was Hoseok, who had a smile like a cup full of sunshine. Then there was Kido and Hunchul and Namjoon and Seokjin.

In Taehyung's memory, they enfolded him, wrapping him immediately into their huddle. The managers left: Keep up the good work, we'll check back soon. Yada yada yada.

Days or weeks later, the managers brought in Jimin.

Kido and Hunchul were gone by then. Taehyung thought of it like living on a desert island where storms or random monsters would come and pick people off one by one. He already felt a protective pull for those who remained behind, his survivors. He didn't want them to leave, but he also didn't know how he felt about someone new coming in.

Even someone like Jimin. They'd all seen his audition tape. Like, he could dance, but he was all chubby cute and lamb-y sweet. There was such a thing as too sweet, and Jimin... He looked like he was trying too hard.

They'd all said no. Nah, boo, pass. He didn't fit.

Yet there he stood in the practice room, a beanie on his head and a starving look on his face, like he wanted the whole world to just eat him up.

Seokjin approached him straight away. He said, "They told us you can sing."

Jimin flinched. Jungkook met Taehyung's eye. They knew how this would go down.

Seokjin went, "If you don't sing something, I'll kill you."

Jimin paled. He opened his mouth and the teeniest, breathless squeak came out.

Seokjin laughed, that booming car-salesman laugh, and he slapped the kid on the shoulder. The managers rushed to the rescue: Meet your new member, this is Park Jimin, keep up the good work, blah blah blah.

They left him there, in the lion's den, this wide-eyed little dweeb from Busan.

What else could Taehyung do but rescue him?

The next week, Jimin transferred to Taehyung's school, and it was hard work to keep him safe. Jimin had no chill at all. He's all reactions and feelings. It's like he doesn't have a shield, he's just out there, bare and exposed, and Taehyung likes that rawness, even if it makes Jungkook a little twitchy.

Jimin pushed to prove himself, so hard he made even Hoseok look like a slouch, so eventually, finally, the rest of the group came around.

Seokjin moved into the dorm in July. He took over the cooking and organized the chores. In the months that followed, lines were drawn. Alliances formed. As a group, they got a name and a formal lineup. They chose Namjoon as their leader. The seven of them lived together in their dorm, and they began to contemplate their future.

Now it's November, and it's freezing out, but Taehyung's coat no longer fits. During the first week of snow, he squeezed into it, pulling the zipper as far up as it would go, but his shoulders are too wide now, his arms too long. They're closing in on debut, but they still don't have much money. Taehyung knows his parents will send him another coat, but asking them feels like surrender when he's already taken so much.

He's sitting in the floor beneath the clothing rail, not really hiding, but sort of hiding, when a pair of legs appear beyond the dusky curtains of denim and cotton. A pair of hands whip back the hanging clothes, casting them aside with exaggerated flair, revealing Seokjin, dressed in his sleeping clothes, his hair freshly washed and smelling like strawberries.

Without asking any questions, Seokjin joins him on the floor. He drags the clothes back into place, settling them into semi-darkness.

"This is nice," he says.

Taehyung doesn't want to talk; that's why he found this spot in the first place. Seokjin seems to get it, so for a long time, they don't say anything. They can hear the others – Jungkook doing the supper dishes, Hoseok and Yoongi talking about a new Taeyang song. Namjoon's in the shower, and from where they're sitting, they can see Jimin's bare feet dangling from the end of the futon in the common room.

After a while, Seokjin says, "You didn't eat much."

Taehyung goes, "Yeah," and it sounds sulky, even to him.

Seokjin squeezes his knee. "I saved some for you."

And suddenly, Taehyung's fighting tears. Something about the tenderness in Seokjin's voice reminds him of home, and he misses his Mom so much. He's been trying to hide it, but...

"Hey," Seokjin whispers. "It's okay. You're okay."

Taehyung pushes the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"Tae-Tae, what is it?" Seokjin asks.

With that, the dam just crumbles. Taehyung spills everything, not only about the coat, but about his family, too, and he goes off on a tangent about being basically owned by the company but winds up somehow talking about how one day they'll all be conscripted into military service and how frightening that prospect seems when he's not even out of high school.

Once Taehyung runs out of breath, Seokjin takes a few seconds to process. Then he goes, "I have a coat. It'll probably fit you." He angles toward Taehyung, pushes both his shoulders back against the wall. Purses his lips. Nods. "You should wear it."

"Hyung, I can't take your coat," Taehyung says, his voice raw and low.

"It's an extra," Seokjin says. "My Mom sent it early for Christmas." The way he doesn't meet Taehyung's eyes makes him think about the other extras Seokjin has but doesn't talk about. Like the expensive shampoo he keeps in a bin beneath his bed, and the new track shoes he got at Chuseok, and the brand new cell phone he received as an early birthday gift. Seokjin's family is well off, and though Taehyung has never thought about it, he's always kind of known. It explains Seokjin's bravado and swagger routine, the default setting for a young man who's used to getting his way.

Taehyung sees now that Seokjin never wore it well. In the last year, the spoiled, rich kid who so intimidated Jimin has all but disappeared. Seokjin now drives Jungkook to school in the morning. He manages their meals, keeps their pantry stocked, and makes sure they attend all their various appointments.

And now, apparently, he also shares his clothing.

Seokjin says, "So...you have a brother, right?"

"Younger. Yeah."

Seokjin bumps Taehyung's shoulder. "Me too," he says. "Older, but still... You'd do anything for him. Wouldn't you?"

"Of course," Taehyung answers. "Anything."

"So that's what it's like," Seokjin says. "Here, with us. We're like brothers."

"Okay," Taehyung says, because it feels right. "Like brothers."

"So, good," Seokjin says. "I'll just get that coat."