Jungkook felt his eyes being drawn back to his watch, his subconscious seemingly sure he would daydream or something for the next 40 minutes and somehow miss his flight completely if he didn't check the time every-

Three minutes, apparently.

Tucking his hand into his pocket and shaking his head at his own absurdity, Jungkook glanced up- to double check the gate number, (for the fourth time in as many minutes. What? It didn't hurt to be sure.) and unintentionally caught the gaze of the elderly woman a few places ahead of him. He could tell that she'd been watching him worrywart his way into an ulcer just by the amusement that immediately creased her face. He couldn't help the small answering upward tilt of his lips, despite the wave of heat that prickled across his skin at having been caught acting so young and unsure, because her humor was gentle; edged with the softness of nostalgia.

Jungkook wondered if she had children, all grown and long left the nest. He wondered if she had grandchildren. He wondered if she'd 'grandmother' him if he asked her if he was in the right terminal. Or would that be too weird? Too imposing? What if she got mad at him for bothering her?

He looked away.

He had the gate number right, he was sure. Big bold 'GATE 23' on the top left of his boarding pass, big bold 'GATE 23' on the sign above the check-in area. That seemed pretty straightforward; even to someone like Jungkook, who still occasionally (somehow) mixed their practice studio's up.

But the 'Terminal 1' written across the bottom right of the ticket? He looked up again, peering around, although it was no more fruitful than last time. Why weren't there any signs? Was this terminal 1?

Namjoon-hyung would have mentioned if he needed to go to another building entirely. Right?

Jungkook bit his lip, staring at the boarding pass clutched between slightly clammy fingers; the blockily inked 'Terminal 1' seeming to mock his burgeoning anxiety.

Jungkook was assuming that Terminal 1 was for passenger flights and Terminal 2 was for cargo and air freight, based on the fact that the others had departed for Seoul from this terminal.

He was sure he was in the right place.

Or at least, mostly sure. (His flight was international. What if terminal 1 was international and terminal 2 domestic? He'd heard a boarding call for France a few moments ago though, so that seemed unlikely. France was international, right? )

He'd never live it down if he was in the wrong building.

"Good afternoon passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight UA6147 to Tokyo from Gate 23. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance to proceed to the admittance point on the left immediately. All other passengers please make your way to the right-side admittance point. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you."

Jungkook forced himself to relax slightly. Gate 23, flight to Tokyo. He was even already in the slowly forming line to the right of the gate doors.

He had this.

He didn't have this.

Jungkook was sure it was in his bag. Like sure sure, because he'd checked before they'd gotten out of the vehicle to enter the airport. (Yoongi-hyung had made him put hands on it, even when Jungkook had insisted that it was there).

So, it had to be somewhere in his backpack.

Ignoring the buzz of his fellow passengers slowly gathering around him, Jungkook dragged his pack closer, hoisting it higher to dig into the dark depths, fingers desperately scrabbling for anything that was evenly remotely passport shaped.

Wallet-

He tugged that out and tucked it into his back pocket, followed by his phone.

His thumb brushed against something hard, with a telltale spine-edge, but it was much too thick to be his passport. He continued to yank on it regardless, because-

It was the book Joonie-hyung had loaned him for the flight.

And that was just an empty juice box. He should really throw that out.

This was bad. This was very very-

The scarf he'd stuffed into the top of the bag earlier was making searching nearly impossible, curling around his hand and filling any gaps his searching fingers managed to make.

Maybe he'd zipped it into the front section?

Jungkook already knew that the only thing in the small zipped area on the front of the bag was a lollipop he'd stolen from Tae earlier and his headphones. He checked anyway.

Lollipop. Headphones.

Shit.

"Ladies and Gentleman, flight UA6147 to Tokyo from Gate 23 will now begin regular boarding. Please have your boarding pass and passport identification ready for viewing. Thank you."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It was in his damn bag.

Jungkook pulled himself out of the line, shuffling through the amassed crowd of passengers preparing to board, and dropped into the nearest free waiting area chair, already frantically dragging things out of his bag onto the empty seat beside himself.

The mass of blue woolen scarf formed a makeshift basket, but that didn't stop the empty crisp packets and plastic sweets bags from meandering over the edges and off into freefall, littering the carpet in front of the seats. Jungkook ignored them in favor of yanking on the weirdly mutated rabbit plushie that Hobi had won from the claw machine; the bunny at least ears and one foot too large for the section of the bag they'd forced it into earlier.

Surprising, (at least to his increasingly 'in-denial' brain) his passport wasn't hiding out beneath the soft toy, and the bag was much emptier now. The sudden rush of blood echoed in his ears, heralding the curl of adrenaline that set his mouth open in tiny huffing pants of breath-

It had to be there.

His fingers were finding only bottom-of-the-bag lint, and all his belongings were scattered out across the seat and floor around him, but it had to be there-

"Final boarding call for UA Airlines flight 6147 to Tokyo. Please make your way to gate 23.

Jungkook's gaze snapped up-

The milling passenger herd had thinned dramatically, dwindling to only the last few stragglers. Everyone else had boarded, and the plane must be nearly ready to leave and Jungkook's passport was-

His passport was missing.

His passport; the stupid flimsy little booklet that was the key to the rest of the world... He couldn't meet his parents in Japan without it. Couldn't fly on to London with them next week without it. He couldn't leave the country without it. Without it, he'd just have to... go home.

Just the thought of what his hyungs would say, ( "I knew you'd forget something, I just didn't think it would be your passport, Jeon Jungkook!" "I told you to be more careful-" "Haha- classic, Kookie...")

Or think, (Child. Immature.)

He needed to find it.

Sliding to his knees on the carpeted floor in front of the seats, Jungkook swept everything back into his backpack as quickly as possible, uncaring of the rubbish he shoved back in, or the fact that the book Namjoon had loaned him was left abandoned under the seat, out of easy reach; he had no time-

He needed to backtrack his steps. Maybe...maybe it had fallen out near the other gate? Or maybe the toilets? Or- he'd been into nearly every shop in the airport looking for that lip balm for Tae. It could be anywhere.

It could be nowhere. What if someone had stolen it? What if someone had stolen his identity! What if right now there was someone on that plane pretending to be Jeon Jungkook! What if it was to get closer to BTS- what if they wanted to replace him-

Jungkook took a deep, steadying breath. He was panicking himself straight into stupidity. He didn't have time for stupidity. Clutching his backpack tighter he looked around at the steadily meandering travelers; none of them at all concerned by his predicament.

"Okay, Jungkook. You've lost your passport. and you've got-" he paused his little self-pep talk to glance at the set of world-time clocks on the nearby wall, and his eyes bugged, "...14 minutes to find it?!"

How had he lost so much time?! He needed to go- He needed to see if-

Maybe the cafe at the entrance? He'd paid for a drink there- Or it was probably in the toilet when he'd looked for his antibacterial hand cleaner-

But surely if it was in such an obvious place, someone would have found it-

What would they do with it? Could they use it to contact him? Probably not. Maybe eventually- Did the airport have a lost and found? Would they send a passport to lost and found? Was that like a security thing- an identity risk or something?

Maybe he should ask-

Across from him, one of the attendants began closing the gate 23 doors.

"Wait!" it spilled from his mouth without his permission, and Jungkook ducked his head when half the people in the immediate surrounding turned to look at him. Cringing, he hurried to the admittance checkpoint as the attendant came back toward him.

It was a physical effort to bring himself to speak 'Come on Jungkook, just ask-they're not going to arrest you. They won't even yell at you. That'll be your hyungs, later, if you don't sort this out. Ask!) He stumbled forward another step or two and only stuttered on the first syllable, "U- uh- Hello...I'm- I'm meant to be on this flight, but I've- I've lost my passport. "

The attendant looked up, alarm clear on his face as he glanced at the time.

"I know-!' Jungkook half exclaimed, his stress rocketing at the reminder before he caught himself. Biting his lip, he lowered his voice to a mumble- "Sorry. I just- what do I do?"

"Okay. Alright. You've checked your bag and all your pockets?" At Jungkook's jerky nod of assent, the attendant continued, his voice aiming for reassuring but not quite achieving his goal, "I'll call through to lost and found, what's your name? "

Forget his teasing hyungs-

Jungkook had honestly forgotten that there was a steadily increasing chance that he'd be recognized at any moment and this whole humiliating debacle would be plastered all over the internet to mock him for the rest of eternity.

The attendant had given absolutely no indication of recognition though, so Jungkook glanced around awkwardly before answering quietly, hoping that hearing his name wouldn't be enough to bring about instant enlightenment.

If it did the attendant gave no indication.

Jungkook stood off to the side as the man made the call and concentrated on consciously putting forth his best effort to display a level of calm maturity befitting of his age. With unpleasant waves of warmth sweeping through him to bead sweat behind his knees and turn his palms clammy, Jungkook was sure he was putting on a poor showing.

He was able to tell the exact moment the phone call proved futile. The attendant's shoulders slumped, and he threw an apologetic glance toward Jungkook, as if it was his fault somehow, that Jungkook was an irresponsible idiot child.

With no lingering needed to organize a delivery or pick up, the end of the call held a sense of finality that seemed apt to the situation.

The sudden loudspeaker announcement was perfectly timed to provide the final nail in the coffin of his doomed faced of responsibility. "This is the final boarding call for passenger Jeon Jungkook booked on flight UA 6147 to Tokyo. Please proceed to gate 23 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for Jeon Jungkook. Thank you."

Jungkook felt sick.

He must have looked it too because the attendant set a hand on his shoulder, leaning in with a smile that was probably supposed to be consoling, "At the end of the day the worse thing that's going to happen is you'll miss this flight".

Yeah. Thanks. He was aware. Also- the problem.

Jungkook just winced gingerly, subtly pulling away from the hand still gently squeezing his shoulder as he tried to come up with a reply that didn't sound incredibly rude or end with him bursting into tears.

Because that's where this was rapidly heading; Jungkook could feel the watery burn that would edge his eyes in red, his throat tightening as he swallowed convulsively around the growing lump.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

He wasn't going to round this entire awful evening out by having to call home in tears. He wasn't a child.

The attendant was still talking, and Jungkook forced himself to listen, "... robably turn up at lost and found. Or we can organize an emergency one to get you- Wait, is Tokyo home?"

Jungkook blinked.

Did he sound Japanese? Look Japanese? Was he speaking Japanese?

But then, Jungkook supposed, it was never good to assume. He could easily live in Tokyo. Grimacing at his knee-jerk reaction, he tried to smile as he answered, hoping that the attendant wouldn't realize what he'd been thinking, "No. I live in Seoul. I'm meeting my parents in Japan-or I was supposed to be...I'll- I'll work something out."

The attendant frowned slightly, reluctance to leave Jungkook to fend for himself obvious as he replied," Are you sure? You're alone, right? If you need, I can try to find the next flight for you- see if there's any possibility of a seat transfer? Or look into a hotel?"

Jungkook was suddenly struck by shame.

The whole situation was dreadful and embarrassing and more than a bit frightening, but he hadn't even acknowledged, let alone show any gratitude for the man's efforts to not only assist him but to also reassure and comfort him.

Jungkook's smile, even though small and brittle, was genuine as he answered "No thanks, that's okay. I have a hyung I can call-"

Jungkook winced around the understatement, and at the attendants slightly worried eyebrow raise he grinned ruefully and corrected himself, explaining what was likely both impending suffering and consolation"- Actually, I have more than one, and I probably need to call. Required to call, if you know what I mean. But- thank you. Really- for all your help."

The attendant huffed a laugh as if he understood exactly what Jungkook meant.

And maybe he did.

Though Jungkook doubted it.

He stifled a yawn, blinking slowly as red-eye travelers and early morning flight arrivals wondered through the lounge before him. He knew he probably should keep searching, but there were only so many places he could look. He'd wandered the airport, checking shops and floors and toilet stalls and under waiting benches, to no avail before finally giving up; wandering back to the gate waiting area. His eyes ached, and his feet hurt. His bag seemed heavier that possible, the straps cutting into his shoulders. It was so late it was already tomorrow. He was tired. And miserable. And stuck in this stupid airport all by himself because he was an idiot.

His very first flight by himself, after days of quite-overconfidently selling himself as perfectly capable... and he hadn't even been able to get on the plane.

Groaning, Jungkook flung himself into the nearest seat, draping an arm across his eyes in blatant pretense of 'if I can't see it, it's not real'.

Only, this was real.

And despite what he'd said told the attendant earlier, he hadn't called anyone yet. He wasn't avoiding it. Really. Well- not only avoiding it. More like putting it off until he could improve upon "I lost my passport, hyung and am still stuck in Gimhae. Help?"

He'd wanted to at least be able to tack on "But I've found it and booked another flight. Just thought I'd better let you know so you wouldn't worry. Because I'm a responsible, mature, thoughtful dongsaeng."

Only he hadn't found it.

The next flight to Tokyo was 6am, but without a passport that was the definition of irrelevant information. And the 'Passport Services Office' seemed to have this 'office hours' thing happening. Jungkook was definitely outside of them, inconvenient. Not to mention that everything he'd read on the internet indicated that, if granted, an emergency passport would take at least 1-3 business days to arrive. And the likelihood of them actually issuing him one in this situation was slim to none anyway. (If he'd been needing it to be able to get home, maybe... A holiday? Not so much.)

There was, however, a flight to Seoul in just over four hours.

He wasn't meeting his parents in Tokyo, and probably wasn't going to London.

He was going home.

Jungkook dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

He needed to call his hyungs and let them know.

Fishing his phone out of his back pocket, he thumped the power button to light up the screen-

First things first though:

He dialed, and as expected it went straight to voicemail, "Appa, I've been delayed... I'm still in Gimhae. I missed my flight. I'm okay...but I've lost my passport. Call me when you land and we'll work out what to do. Love you. Bye."

He hung up and stared at the phone cradled in his hands.

He knew he needed to call.

He just didn't want to.

Until someone else did something stupider (which let's face it, was going to take some doing), he'd be the butt of every joke and jab for the next eternity. And Jungkook could probably handle it if it was just that, but he knew…he just knew that at least the older hyungs would- they'd judge and be disappointed. It would reaffirm that he was still the baby. And he was, (always would be: indulged and adored and spoiled, thank you very much), but- he'd only just started flexing his 'Maybe adult?'...and it'd be straight back to the hand-holding and underestimating and unneeded coddling-

And his hyungs were out of signal, on a plane for at least another half hour or so. It wasn't like they'd answer if he called, and they wouldn't get a message right now if he left it anyway.

He'd just wait until they landed. Calling Namjoon-hyung to speak to him 'face to face' had to be considered more mature and responsible than leaving a message, right? And he could think of the best way to explain what had happened (that made him look the least like a hopeless child).

Decided, (if not confident in his decision) Jungkook dragged his bag into his lap, liberating his headphones from the outside compartment. He pushed the buds into his ears, glancing at the charge indicator on the top of his phone- 78%. At least he'd done what he was told in that respect. He wasn't getting lectured (aka- scolded) for forgetting to charge his phone (again, Jungkook!) on top of everything else this time.

Opening his music player and tapping shuffle, he curled onto his side, pulling his legs up onto the empty row of seats. Tugging the hood of his jacket over his face, Jungkook shut his eyes and was soon humming along to the soothing melody of 'Fantastic Baby', content to pretend to be a responsible adult for a few more minutes.

Pain.

His eyes snapped open violently as he was wrenched into sudden wakefulness; jackknifing upright with a half-strangled cry. Everything blurred and swirled around him as Jungkook cradled his hand to his chest, tucking his chin against his chest, watery eyes squeezed shut as he breathed heavily through his nose.

Seconds passed, and then minutes, as he ignored the vague sense of disorientation at the back of his mind (when had he fallen asleep?) in favor of tolerating the burning agony until finally, finally, the searing flames smoldered down to a hot throbbing ache.

Jungkook physically steeled himself before glancing down, fully expecting the stomach-turning visual of torn flesh and jaggedly exposed bone-

His hand looked fine. There was maybe a little redness across the backs of his fingers and knuckles, but wholly uninjured, no disfiguring mutilation, no blood or bone.

Bewildered, Jungkook wiggled his fingers. Which, in hindsight, was just a really dumb thing to do; the wave of heat rippled from fingertips upward, radiating the entire length of his arm before settling into the top of his spine, seeming intent on morphing into a headache in the near future.

"Note, don't do that again." he wheezed, curling the fingers of his good hand around his wrist to try and suppress the ache.

This was just-

This was fantastic.

As if having to tell his hyungs that he'd lost his passport and missed his flight wasn't bad enough, now he also had to tell them he'd somehow managed to injure himself on top of that.

Jungkook (Adult) | Jungkookie (Baby)

0 3

...he'd probably overslept and missed his flight home as well, because why the hell not. Cosmic humor seemed to be spending at his expense tonight.

His breath shuddered as he inhaled deeply, eyes flitting toward the ceiling as he blinked hard to offset the warmth of frustrated tears.

Time to earn that adult point.

He needed to check the time and call his hyungs.

He needed his phone.

His phone?

Jungkook narrowed his eyes with thoughtful confusion; he'd been listening to music before...

"Where-?" He half-voiced, glancing down to the seats on his left-

The snaking coil of his bright yellow headphones caught in his peripheral vision, trailing across the carpet on the ground at his feet.

His phone was still attached to the jack, almost under the seat beneath him. The screen was smashed into a spider work of glass shards that scattered onto the carpet to the left of it; completely destroyed.

Jungkook stared, non-plussed.

What the fuck?

How the fuck?

And most importantly?

Fuck his life.

Bending to gingerly sweep the phone up with his good hand, mindful of the glass, Jungkook poked hesitantly at where the power button should have been.

It wasn't really there anymore.

"Whhyyyy!?" he moaned, disbelief coloring his voice with enough wounded indignation to equal Min Yoongi at his most incensed.

Although he supposed he was safe to assume there was some correlation between the state of his phone and the state of his hand. Especially if his hand had been under or around the phone when...

Jungkook's best guess was that it had been stood on.

The phone, and his hand.

Stomped on even, looking at the extent of the damage to his phone.

By someone in a rush? Running, late for a flight, maybe? Frantic enough to not even stop, perhaps not even notice in their hurry?

Whatever the case, his phone wasn't going to be of any help, likely ever again (Jungkook smelled an upgrade. Maybe a 9?) and he still needed to make that call.

And check the time, which -

Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Jungkook glanced at his watch and actually half smiled for the first time since he'd woken. He hadn't missed the next flight home. In fact, by his calculations the others should have only just been getting back to the dorm- they might not even have gone to bed yet.

He'd rather avoid waking Namjoon-hyung if he could, especially after the ridiculously long 24hrs they'd just had. Best to not start the call with the older already in a disgruntled mood, if possible.

Getting to his feet slowly, Jungkook swept his gaze across the terminal, looking for where he'd seen the public-use telephones earlier-

His gaze caught and his mind blanked. He gaped.

Directly across from him, spread out along the glass windows that showed the airport runways stretching out into the distance, were a whole throng of media. Reporters and crew, microphones and cameras and equipment going every which way. They were all in the midst of speaking, gesturing out the windows and towards the airport interior, polished 'reporting' faces capturing their specific camera's attention.

They were just far enough away that their voices had blended seamlessly together to create a background buzzing that, amidst the dissonance and echo of the rest of the airport and the distraction of his own personal crisis, Jungkook hadn't been drawn to notice.

And the airport-

The airport wasn't busy, per se- it was still dead of night, with relatively few travelers in the terminal, but now that he was looking, Jungkook didn't know how he hadn't noticed.

There was an aura, a heaviness that hung over the gathered pockets of people and there was none of the variance that Jungkook had come to expect in airports. No one smiled and laughed as they waited for a loved one, no excitement for an arrival home. No casual chatter or meaningless small talk with strangers. And the crying... there were several travelers in tears- which wasn't unusual, but they didn't strike Jungkook as the bittersweetness of temporary goodbyes, nor of uncontrolled happiness.

Sadness. Everything was shrouded in sadness and disbelief.

Somber and serious faces everywhere he looked.

Jungkook instinctively knew that something terrible had happened.

Hugging his arm to his chest, he rolled carefully to his feet, stepping a little closer to the gaggle of reporters; close enough to overhear.

"A passenger plane out of Gimhae airport earlier tonight has crashed; killing all on board-"

It took less than four seconds for the words to compute fully and the conclusion to dawn.

...killing all on board...

Jungkook wasn't aware of the breath stuttering audibly in his throat, a sharp jagged thing of sudden desperate fright. All knowledge of the pain in his hand, the broken shell of his phone, the lost passport and the missed flight fading into insignificance as the possibility loomed large and terrifying.

His-

The color seemed to seep out of his surrounds, leeching the airport lounge to a drab palette of greys and muted water-tones, as his head spun-

He took a stumbling step toward the reporters at the window, and then another, forcing the movement as his whole world threatened to crumble from beneath his feet, leaving him freefalling into grief he couldn't fathom-

"...please-", the word passed his lips; the ghost of a whisper, whether begging or praying he didn't know.

His brain shorted, like some sort of emergency shut down and he struggled to remember how to inhale, to exhale, to do anything. He could feel his heart beating against his rib cage, thumping an almost painful staccato that seemed entirely inadequate to pump the thick tar his blood had become.

"...reports that the downed aircraft is UA Flight 6147, Tokyo bound-"

The thin layer of ice coating his insides shattered, and heat, an insatiable fire, spread from his chest as if burning all the oxygen in his body leaving him weak and hollow with relief.

That was the number that Yoongi-hyung had made him repeat at least 30 times since dinner the night before. 6147. They were- his hyungs were fine. It hadn't been their flight.

It had been his.

The one he had been meant to be on.

The one he'd missed.

The one everyone thought he was on-

His smashed phone hung limply from trembling fingers, absolutely useless. He needed to call.

They'd hear and they'd think-

He needed to call.

He'd been trying for the past ten minutes to get access to a phone, with increasingly frantic desperation. There were only two public telephones; the foreign woman using the first phone was almost despondent with grief, her tears leaving her near unable to communicate and Jungkook couldn't even bring himself to ask.

The second was out of order.

He's asked nine people if he could borrow their cell, only to be turned down- politely, apologetically, with: 'My son- he'll call.' & 'Sorry, I need... my wife-', all heartbreakingly hopeful.

And Jungkook understood, but his own mounting desperation with each set of teary eyes, each worried face of a loved one, waiting for news they already knew they didn't want to hear-

He stumbled away from the crowded phone area, back towards the gate-

Someone brushed past him forcefully; the attendant he'd spoken to earlier, looking extremely harried as he raced by with an armful of paperwork bundled precariously under his left arm-

Jungkook called, "Wait!, and surprisingly, remarkably, the man did just that, pulling to a stop and turning on one heel with a forced smile of calm professionalism.

Jungkook knew the instant the man recognized him and remembered his situation; the look of absolute astonishment that swept across his face nearly painful in its detail.

Jungkook didn't waste any time, "Please...my phone-" he held up the wrecked cell, "I need to contact my family. Please- they think-"

The man glanced toward the public phone area, instantly noticing the problem. He pressed his lips, glancing toward where several of the reporters had cornered a teary looking teenage girl-

"Follow me," the attendant ordered, hurrying toward the 'staff only' sign over a door to the far left of the corridor.

The man led him into a small office like ante-chamber off the hallway hidden behind the staff access door. The room was busy, the patter of brusque business voices echoing as several staff members claimed different desks.

No one spared a glance for them, which Jungkook assumed was very lucky, what with the almost clandestine way the attendant was waving him towards an empty desk area.

He figured he was in a highly restricted area and made a note to keep his eyes and hands to himself. No fidgeting with stray post-it-notes.

"You can call off my phone. Dial *0 for an outside line. I'll be over there if you need anything " the attendant gestured to a desk across near the far wall.

Jungkook nodded, seating himself at the desk, intuitively curling his aching hand protectively into his lap as he reached toward the phone.

He should call Sejin-hyung. Their manager was the one with the most power to immediately sort out the situation. ...he desperately wanted to call Namjoon-hyung, but he should call Sejin hyung first.

Only, when his fingers lifted to poise over the keypad...he didn't know the number.

It was in his phone, usually a few mere taps away.

They all were.

Vaguely aware of the attendant's eyes fleetingly passing over him, Jungkook refused to panic.

He didn't think he could get Sejin-managers private number. He might be able to get a work number, but it was like whatever AM and leaving a message would achieve nothing at all.

Calling Sejin wasn't a possibility.

But he rang his hyungs all the time.

And Namjoon-hyung rang him a lot too.

The number always popped up on screen, just below the contact name.

He had to have seen it a thousand times. More.

Jungkook shut his eyes, picturing the blocked-out screen of his phone when the incoming or outgoing call programming popped up. That stupid picture of Joonie-hyung with his tongue out and his eyes crossed. 'Namjoon-hyung' in bold bubble text.

The number that was always directly below.

. One. Obviously.

Nine?

He started to dial, '0-1-1-9-2-1-4-

A pause.

He was sure there was a double four in it somewhere.

So... '-4-6-'

Was it six three? Or maybe five six?

No, there wasn't a double six. Was there even a six at all?.

Maybe. No?

The numbers waivered in front of his mind's eye, jumbling uselessly when he tried to focus on them. One instant he'd be sure he was right, and then niggling doubt would set the whole thing to uncertainty.

He dropped the handset back into its cradle as frustrated tears stung his eyes-

.One. Nine-

No, not nine-

And then the image in his head changed, fading without his prompting or permission; Namjoon's face morphed-

TaeTae stared back at him, boxy grin bright as he squished his face between a pair of stage lighting struts.

Below : "TaeTae-hyung"

'01121156113'

"Zero one one - two one one five - six one one three!" Jungkook chanted softly as he dialed, triumphant relief escaping in a giggling chortle.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Before finally, finally, a click-


"…H-hello?"