Taehyung is sitting in the middle of the cold, hard floor of the dorm. His bandmates are lying around him and sleeping soundly at weird angles, all tangled together in some way. They’re in their ridiculous pastel pajamas they bought as a group (it was Seokjin’s idea), their hair messy from the deep sleep.
He watches as Namjoon snores a particularly loud snore, mildly scaring Hoseok on the other side. Jungkook is sprawled with a pillow half-over his face and an unfinished bowl of popcorn at his hand. Jimin is cushioning his head with Seokjin’s soft stomach, drooling a bit on there too. Seokjin is still holding the remote limply and the TV is paused at the ending credits of some movie. Yoongi is sleeping curled like a cat, like he’s still feeling the need to make himself look small even in a developed civilization like the one they’re in.
Then there’s Taehyung himself, his head half on top of Namjoon’s shoulder and arms around the older’s neck. He’s sleeping with his mouth embarrassingly wide open.
The Taehyung sitting on the sofa flicks his wrist lazily, and the seven boys lying around him glitch and flicker. The golden, faintly-glowing light that Taehyung isn’t sure if he loves or hates eats away the illusion like some kind of poison. The white walls carefully painted a few years ago by Yoongi morph back into the dull gray walls of Taehyung’s lonely apartment in New York.
That was from the scene just a year ago. It was the last day of their concert in March 2022. It was the last time Taehyung saw all seven of them together. It was the last day before the disband of the most famous boyband in the world—BTS.
Of course, ARMYs had no idea why they disbanded. Just earlier that day they were clapping and vibing along with their songs, then the next thing they knew BTS was disbanding. It was all over the news.
They still have no idea. Except for those who know what really lurks in the shadows of humanity: those who aren’t human.
Those who never cease to be. Those who are . . . Eternal.
Taehyung sighs as he drags his heavy body up, only to flop down in the sofa just a feet away. He lets his body sink into the material, but he feels no comfort.
“For the last time, Taehyung, get your shit together.” A voice that sounds like Jimin says.
Taehyung turns his head a little bit to see the illusion of Jimin, his friend and soulmate, wearing his oversized black sweatshirt with sleeves that cover up his small hands and English words in bright colors on it and his pale skinny jeans that are ripped on his knees. His bubblegum pink hair is wild and kept at the same time, his eyes just a bit smokey with makeup.
It’s the Jimin with Taehyung’s favorite hair and clothes on him. It’s Jimin from Not Today era, the era that reminds Taehyung of the real Jimin no human on this planet knows.
It reminds Taehyung of the time when Jimin turned an entire Nazi troop into stone with just one touch to the ground to save a family of Jews, and earlier when Jimin wove the flag of France standing on top of a barricade during French Revolution. And the time when he pointed the location of America on the map for Columbus and the time when he, with Namjoon, introduced the first idea of democracy to Pericles in Athens. The wild, reckless, and impossibly courageous Jimin.
Jimin is a hundred times braver and more chivalrous than Taehyung can ever be. He’s strong when he’s in his element and stronger when he’s not, because he always knows how to adapt and take advantage of disadvantages. Jimin makes that possible.
“You know it’s for the best,” the illusion of Jimin sighs. He looks so real, though. “We always had to put humans’ survival before our own and this time’s no different. You know we’re doing the right thing.”
“I don’t know,” Taehyung buries his head in his hands. “Something feels wrong and I don’t know what. I think we’re doing something wrong.”
Jimin huffs his cute huff and from the corner of Taehyung’s eyes, he can see Jimin drawing his knees up to the couch. “Arishem is never wrong, and we’re in no place to question him.” Jimin says softly. “When this is over, we’ll be back in Olympia and we’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”
Even after eons spent with Jimin, Taehyung can never get the fearless positivity of Jimin into his own head. That’s why the Jimin illusion he creates sounds so out of character; Jimin would never say something like that. He would never stop questioning the authority.
It’s that positivity that helped the seven of them make it through difficult times. It’s that positivity that helped moved humanity forward.
“Arishem.” Taehyung sighs. “I wonder what he has in store for us.”
Of course, only Namjoon will know. He’s the leader and the only bridge between the Eternals and Celestials.
“We’ll wait and know.” Another pathetic attempt at mimicking Jimin’s real personality. Jimin never waits. He leaps and finds answers for himself.
Taehyung looks up from his hands and reaches out to touch Jimin. Jimin glances down as Taehyung’s fingers go right through him.
“I’m not real, remember?” Jimin says, a sad smile ghosting his face.
Then he disappears too, eaten away by the same golden light that’s currently sitting and moving in some pattern in the middle of Taehyung’s palm.
It’s the power he is gifted with: illusion control. The golden light appears whenever an Eternal does his thing. In Taehyung’s case, his hands get all sparky when he creates illusions.
In the end, it’s just Taehyung alone. Taehyung talking to himself and Taehyung trying to figure out why the fuck Namjoon would suddenly tell them that they can’t stay together anymore.
In the end, Taehyung is just as clueless and scared as all humans out there.
Yoongi downs the third cup of coffee that morning and places the empty cup at the foot of the concert piano at the Rupert’s Church, Vienna, Austria.
It’s in the morning and not Sunday, so he has the entire church for himself the next thirty minutes when the church opens for tourists. The architecture of the church is always inspiring for Yoongi, always reminding him of the good old times when people actually appreciates his creations.
He was the one who built this church, in fact, around 740 AD. Yoongi built it for a guy named Rupert (obviously) but he was just an excuse for Yoongi to show the Austrians how important religion and good architecture can mean to a country’s culture.
He remembered building up the beautiful building with just strings of golden light that outlined the entire thing and constructing it with his mind alone. He remembered adding the most intricate details to every wall and color to every artwork. He remembered smiling at himself because he didn’t build it for the Austrians, not really. Advancing their sense of culture was certainly the plus, but Yoongi never really did what he was supposed to do.
Not even when Namjoon specifically told them that Arishem didn’t want us to interfere with humans did Yoongi listen. He was always a person of his own and a rogue Eternal Arishem had a hard time trying to contain.
He rests his other hand on the piano, and layers and layers of colorful spray-painted words and sketches and numbers and mathematical formulas he learnt back in uni, his every passing thoughts that look all jumbled together but actually have patterns that normal people can’t spot, immediately cover the piano, the chairs, the walls, and the floor almost magically. The golden light that outlines the paints before they become real paints spreads all over the place like some spiderweb. Among the words painted there are “stop,” “traitor,” “I’m sorry,” and many others.
Now he’s thinking if everything is his fault.
Unlike how most of the others, Yoongi has a vague idea of what was exchanged between Namjoon and Arishem. There’s definitely things Arishem hides from Namjoon and Namjoon hides from the six of them. Though Namjoon was always like a loyal puppy who believed in and listened to every fucking word Arishem said, Yoongi knows that it was the first time Namjoon showed resistance. And it really takes a lot for Namjoon, forever the good kid, to disobey.
“Namjoon-ah, what were you thinking?” Yoongi mutters out loud. His fingers are moving deftly and quickly on the scales that are no longer black and white. They’re covered in bright paint that has no texture, like the one on the walls of the church. The improvised and violent music that comes out of the piano sounds too angry even to Yoongi’s ears, too angry to be played in a sacred place like a church.
He ends the piece abruptly with a loud smash on the scales. The chorus comes out disjointed. He stands up and sweeps the pile of music score onto the floor out of frustration.
It’s been a year and Yoongi’s ashamed to say he hasn’t walked out of it yet.
Maybe he didn’t want you anymore. Maybe he’s set off to his own mission and didn’t want you to drag him down. A voice in his head says.
“That’s not possible. Namjoon would never do that.” Yoongi shakes his head and runs his fingers through his black hair that’s grown a lot longer now.
It’s your fault. Arishem was probably sick of you talking back and doing things your way. The Voice says.
Yoongi’s head feels like it’s splitting, like a mirror shattering into millions of pieces of glass, each one of them a different personality, a different voice talking to him in his head, driving him nuts.
Namjoon might be the one who broke you, but you let him break you. You’re as responsible as he is.
“I don’t need your fucking reminder!” Yoongi yells, doubling over at the force of it. Colors erupt into irregular patches around him.
“Love yourself my ass,” The Voice sneers. “ARMY’s been calling your name in this universe. You’re just disappointing them.”
“Those lyrics are mine,” Yoongi hisses, pulling at his long hair. His head hurts so much that he thinks it’s going to explode. It’s Heartbeat. “Mine. Don’t you dare.”
“You were the starlight that shone most in the deepest night. Why have you dimmed?”
“Shut up.” He can see ARMY singing along with him as he sings Mikrokosmos. Then he sees them ripped apart by his own hand in front of his eyes.
“There’s no end in the sight. Is there any way out?”
“Stop.” Life goes on, doesn’t it? No, not for Yoongi. He’s still stuck behind, unable to keep up.
“Do you still believe in miracles? Do you still believe in your galaxy?”
It’s Magic Shop.
Yoongi fist connects with the wall. He can barely feel the pain in his knuckles. It’s unlike him to do something in a spur like this. But he hasn’t been himself in . . . a long time.
“And what are you doing here? Sulking and pitying yourself?”
“I tried, okay?” Yoongi grits his teeth. He’s clawing at his scalp now. “Shut the hell up. I’ve been looking so hard and it’s been a year. They’re either dead or hiding from me. I don’t know why.”
Yoongi had looked everywhere a week after their disband, trying to piece everything together like how he built the very civilization he’s living in up. He thought it was okay, thought it was going to be okay because for a civilization to be born the one before it had to die and it was more natural than anything, but it wasn’t. Wasn’t okay. He looked everywhere but his bandmates—no, brothers—were nowhere to be seen.
He had even considered tracking his brothers with his power over technology the day after disband, but was stupid enough to figure that it was a violation to their privacy. Now, when he tries to track him down he can’t find the tiniest signal.
“FUCK!” He screams at the top of his lungs, his voice coming out too heart-wrenching even to himself and gruffy like he’s been smoking too much. His voice echoes in the church like how Yoongi always makes it do whenever he’s composing sentimental music. When was the last time he listened to their songs?
Yoongi takes a deep breath, calming down a bit, and looks down at his hands. They’re shaking so much, staring them makes him a bit dizzy. The coffee is spilled at his feet, so he must’ve kicked it accidentally when he went out of control.
He sighs and leans against the piano when his knees threaten to give up, exhausted after the outburst. He allows himself to slide down with his back against the leg of the piano and stares blankly at the music sheets, now spread all over the floor.
Yoongi feels his palm glow golden and grow a little bit hot. He watches numbly as the colors that make the church a mess disappear, fading like watercolor paint.
Yoongi is an architect the same time he is like Nero from the Roman Empire: he builds the same time he destroys.
A stray tear slides down Yoongi’s pale cheek that’s even paler now. Jungkook used to fight him whenever Yoongi got violent and self-loathing like this, because hyung I love you and I can’t see you hurt, not you, please.
His hand falls to his side almost lifelessly. His fingertips touch one of the music sheets.
Then he smiles. He knows he’s not actually crazy, he’s a fucking Eternal and his mind is a thousand times stronger than a human’s. But he’s pretty sure his smile looks unhinged.
With another golden burst of light, the music sheets catch on fire. It grows larger by the second, and Yoongi, who’s watching with amusement at how similar this scene is to the scenes in the I Need U music video.
Yoongi is a creator of matter, architect of technology. Sometimes, he creates destruction.
It takes a minute for all the music sheets to burn down. Ten minutes later, when the church opens, there’s nothing in the church. Not the music notes, not the fire, not the paint, not the spilled coffee. Not Yoongi.
Jungkook’s able to get himself an apartment in Los Angeles, where he gets to experience his favorite weather every day: sunny enough to see the clear sky and cool and breezy enough to not feel hot.
Other than chilling out at his house, he goes to that one Starbucks where he can get a complete view of a park that’s usually crowded with people going to or leaving work, taking a walk or just hanging out.
Jungkook likes watching people. Likes studying them and trying to imagine what their lives can be. He observes their clothing and postures, but never their faces. He plugs in his earphones but there’s no music playing; he does it so people don’t talk to him and he can stare into space in peace.
He’s not sitting there watching people because he likes it, though. He does like it, but that’s not the main reason why he’s doing this when he can spend his time playing video games at his apartment.
No. He’s here so his six bandmates stop haunting him.
Every time he looks out a window, he can see one of the members walking by hastily. And that’s creepy as fuck because whenever that happens he jumps to his feet and runs out wherever he is, shouting the names of his family, only to find no one there. Like his hyungs just disappear like ghosts. It only reminds him that they’re so far away from him that they can just be some memory he made up in his imaginative mind, like everything about BTS is just a very detailed dream.
The same happens with doors, mirrors, and even curtains. That’s why he’s sitting here, exposing himself to the sky above and the crowd around him: even if they are here, he can’t see them. And the longing in his heart will subside a bit.
Jungkook’s power isn’t anything related to vision or prophecy, so he was pretty puzzled when this first happened. And panicked, too, because every time he saw his hyungs’ side profile appearing out of nowhere, he hoped they could come back as a family again.
That’s apparently not happening because it’s been a year and there’s no sign of Arishem or Namjoon trying to reunite them.
It’s also why Jungkook’s gaze never lingers on one face for too long. He can’t imagine how horrified he’ll feel if he finds faces that match the faces he’s been dreaming about and dying to see for the past year.
“Sir?” A voice calls. Jungkook turns his face, half-hidden under a black baseball cap, towards the man. He sees the apron with the Starbucks logo. Not a threat. “May I take your order?”
“Large matcha latte. Make it hot, please.” Jungkook says in English while keeping his face down.
“Sure,” The guy scribbles down the order. “How should I call you?”
Jungkook hesitates a bit. “JK,” He says after a moment’s pause and turns away from the guy to make his wish for the guy to leave clear.
The guy pauses too. “How do you spell it?”
Jungkook mentally slaps himself and wills his fist to stop clenching. “Exactly as it sounds.”
But the guy. Refuses. To leave and deal with his own spelling problem. “Jay Kay? That your first name? You don’t sound American. Are you a foreigner? Your English sounds good though.”
Jungkook bites his lower lip so insults don’t fly out of his mouth. Isn’t it super clear already that Jungkook doesn’t want to talk?
If only if this guy knows who I am, Jungkook thinks bitterly. He’d be sooo scared.
There’s this obvious reason the Eternals and other superhumans who Jungkook is sure are existing somewhere choose to live in the shadows and not in broad daylight. Humans aren’t exactly the most tolerant and open-minded creatures they’d seen. Humans fear things they don’t know about and things that are stronger and smarter. They like to pretend they’re the best race in the universe and they try everything to eliminate anything that suggests otherwise.
The humans in this generation have no idea that it was them, the Eternals, who taught their ancestors to survive. They don’t know that it was them who brought them fire and gave them the first knife. They have no idea how much they all Jungkook and his hyungs. No idea.
Jungkook feels kind of selfish for looking down at them like that. It’s his duty, after all, to make sure humanity survives and moves forward even though he has no idea the reason behind it. That’s all Arishem ever tells them. And it’s not like Jungkook owes any human anything, so he gets confused from time to time.
Yoongi hyung is a lot more violent towards this, though. He got angry that he had to risk his own bandmates and save, to quote his exact words, “stupid fucking humans who can’t even live longer than cockroaches.”
“So you’re Chinese,” The Starbucks guy is still rambling and it’s getting more and more on Jungkook’s nerves. “Because you’re Asian. Are you Chinese? I don’t know, all Asians look the same.”
Now that’s just an insult to the entire Asian race. For some reason, people think all Asians are Chinese like this imbecile over here, and Jungkook would normally play it off like he’s in some very terrible interview (been there, done that), but of course he doesn’t. He’s not BTS anymore and he has absolutely no duty to be nice in public.
“You fucking take that back, you . . .” Jungkook snarls, making his first big mistake of the day: he looks up into the guy’s face.
It’s Hoseok. Hoseok with that metallic dark olive-green hair that Jungkook loves. Hoseok wearing that low-cut tight black T-shirt, black leather jacket, and thick silver necklaces. It’s Hoseok from when they filmed the music video for ON.
Jungkook makes his second mistake by not thinking with his fucking head. He grabs Hoseok . . .no, the Starbucks guy . . . by the collar and slams him down against the coffee table, his hand going up to cuff the guy’s wrists together over the guy’s head.
Jungkook doesn’t need to look to know his other hand is glowing the familiar golden light. A split second later, a sword that’s made entirely of that golden light. The sword is long and has all the most intricate patterns climbing over it. Anyone familiar enough with Before Christ world history would know that this is a sword for Valkyries.
(Jungkook loved Valkyries because he thought women fighters were cool. He even got to train them and fight alongside them a few thousands of years ago.)
Jungkook raises the sword so the blade he just created out of thin air is pressing tightly against the Starbucks guy’s throat. Just a bit more force put onto the sword will cut the guy’s neck open and draw blood.
Gasps and screams sound around him and Jungkook sighs, all the adrenaline disappearing at once. While he has the power to create and wield any weapon like a pro, he doesn’t have the ability to hide it from human eyes.
“You’re not him.” Jungkook tells the guy. The guy, probably fearing for his life, nods desperately.
Jungkook lets him go abruptly and steps back. The crowd has gathered around him with phone cameras directly pointing at him and a wave of disgust washes him over so quickly and strongly he almost throws up right there. “He’s a monster! Call the police!” Some woman shout from the back.
Ah, the police. Humans never stop hunting down supernatural beings. They might not know Eternals as much as they know mutants or superhumans, but they try to kill them nonetheless.
Why the fuck would you watch and snap pictures when there’s some freak with a sword pointing at another guy’s neck? Why would you want to kill the very beings that helped your ancestors live? Why would you use some people to get what you want and stab those people in the back in the end?
Unthankful, ignorant humans. Are they really worth risking Jungkook’s life for?
What the hell is Arishem thinking?
Jungkook’s sword disappears with a simple flick of his wrist. A big-ass gun replaces it in Jungkook’s hand.
He raises the gun to the sky and fires. The bullet pierces through the sky and the exploding sound is quickly covered by the panicked screams of the crowd, now making way for him to escape if he runs quick enough.
Not only is Jungkook feeling angry, he’s also feeling betrayed.
He will never harm those humans, not really. He knows that and everyone who knows him knows that too. Jungkook’s spent his entire life of millions of years serving humanity and he’s not just gonna stop just because their group split. His power might be over weapons, but he is definitely not the most violent fighter in the group (the two oldest hyungs own that title).
But enough is enough, and Jungkook is sick of being looked at like he’s some monster when he’s supposed to be their god.
Quick on his feet, Jimin sneaks into Krishna Mandir before making sure that no one’s watching, which proves to be unnecessary. The sun has already set two hours ago and the Patan Durbar Square is practically vacant like some abandoned city.
His face is half hidden by the hood of his pale gray robe. He takes advantage of the shadow that casts over his face to make his naturally pale face look tanner and more like a Nepalese. Otherwise he’d look very out of place and the last thing he wants now is attention.
He runs his hands over the brittle, sandy wall of the temple as he walks briskly around. The architecture of this temple is nice, but that’s not why Jimin is here.
For one, he can’t even bear the heat here in Nepal. He’s constantly sweating into the material of his robe and indoors is only a little bit better. After spending so much time in the snowy country of Korea when he was still Jimin of BTS, he forgot how hot other places of Earth could be.
For another, he doesn’t even speak Nepali that fluently. Language is always Namjoon’s thing and even though Jimin had been to as many countries and stayed everywhere for as long, he just couldn’t pick up that many languages. They all can speak Korean (obviously) and English and a couple of other languages because of how often they spent their time there (pretending to not know English in American interviews was a huge pain).
Despite all the reasons Jimin would rather be somewhere other than Nepal, he has to be here. He knows there’s something about this place that broke BTS.
It was 1521 when the seven of them defeated the last Deviants on Earth. They were right here, at Patan Durbar Square, when it happened. Jimin even vividly remembers how Seokjin had dealt with the last blow that blew the last Deviant to pieces after Jungkook sliced off one of the Deviant’s limb with his projected Valkyrie sword and Taehyung trapped it in total darkness and silence with his illusion-generating ability. Jimin remembers how destroyed this place was.
There’s something in this piece of memory that they missed. Jimin squeezes his eyes shut as he concentrates his every brain cell in search for something, anything, that’s just the slightest bit suspicious.
He can only imagine what Arishem told Namjoon that day after the concert that became the day BTS disbanded, because Namjoon is extremely tight-lipped. He obviously has some reasons and considering how protective and loyal he is, he’s either trying to protect them or under Arishem’s orders to keep his mouth shut.
Jimin doesn’t blame him. Namjoon is just doing his job as leader and brother. To be honest, if Jimin had been in his place, he would do the exact same thing.
If Namjoon’s not going to talk, then Jimin is going to find out for himself.
That sounds easier than done, though, because an hour later he’s still stuck here, trying to find things in his brain. He doesn’t find any, but he does remember more details about that day.
There were a herd of those Deviants that day and Hoseok was moving faster than light to evacuate the place. He directed the humans to the nearby city within a second and was back to fight the next. He was slower, because they had just taken care of a huge ass colony of Deviants earlier that day.
They were all tired, but they could do this. One more time that day.
Namjoon had telepathically communicated with them and told them the plan. It was the old-fashioned “divide and conquer” strategy they chose to use and just like in every other battle, Namjoon was able to come up with the safest and fastest strategy that led them to countless victories. It almost seemed like Namjoon had gotten tired of thinking up fancy strategies that not only ensured victory but also maintained the aesthetics.
Jimin was paired with Taehyung that day. They were often paired together because of how similar and compatible their powers were: Taehyung was a deceiver who could fool the wisest man with illusions, while Jimin was a magician who could manipulate reality. Together, they could change anyone and everyone and bend the world around them.
They targeted a few Deviants and lured them away from those monsters’ other friends. Taehyung had created large-scale illusions that turned the city into a wasteland, with lava flowing between their feet, blazing rain of meteorites the size of humans bombarding the place, and dust-covered sky that blocked all sunlight. The only source of light was the fire scorching the earth and the sky.
To Jimin and every other Eternal, the illusion was half-transparent so they could still see the reality that was what they call to day Nepal with those buildings still intact. They could see the golden light around the illusion that gave away its fakeness. But to the Deviants, the illusion was real.
The Deviants dodged the nonexistent meteorites in panic. Jimin took advantage of their panic and shoulder-rolled under a Deviant’s black belly. With just a slight touch to the rough, leathery skin, Jimin turned the entire Deviant into ashes.
He could’ve turned it into water or feathers or even thin air, but he was a bit tired and wanted to get the fight over with as soon as possible.
Jimin and Taehyung took care of their group of Deviants pretty quickly and turned to help out the other Eternals, only to discover that they didn’t need to.
Hoseok and Yoongi were finishing up their work. Hoseok was flashing way faster than Jimin could keep up with, his incredible speed enough to send him flying right towards the Deviant’s head. The punch that lands right square in the Deviant’s face sent the Deviant flying backwards, landing hard on its back.
Yoongi stood still and waved around, commanding the seven drones that were flying in the air and surrounding the fallen Deviant. The drones opened fire, and rapid bullets rained all over the Deviant so hard that Jimin almost flinched in sympathy for the Deviant, who howled in pain before going still.
Yoongi collapsed after calling the drones back. Hoseok quickly caught him in his arms so the older didn’t hit his head. Yoongi had just built a full-sized spaceship to bombard an entire colony of Deviants with bombs a few hours ago so no wonder he was that exhausted.
There was one more Deviant left. It was reacting a little panicky as it found all its companions dead, and it was going to escape when it suddenly just fell, writhing around violently and screeching in confusion.
Jimin turned a little to see Taehyung raising his glowing hand a little, apparently doing his job. The darkness and silence that fell partly on Jimin was only part of what the Deviant was experiencing.
Right. Taehyung’s abilities didn’t stop at sight: he could manipulate all five senses, like he was doing right now. The Deviant was practically completely blind and deaf and at their mercy.
Namjoon was walking towards the Deviant, his face completely calm as he watched the Deviant staggered to its feet, smashing into nearby buildings and trying to walk properly with its lost senses. With a tilt of Namjoon’s head, the Deviant stilled and stiffened like he had just been turned into a zombie, which was pretty close to what Namjoon was doing to him.
Namjoon could control minds possibly make all the beings (excluding the Celestials) in the entire universe bow at his feet because of how incredibly powerful he was. He never tried that though because of his strong morals.
That made Seokjin and Jungkook’s job a lot easier. The Deviant was obviously a strong one, given how Namjoon was a bit shaky on his feet just to control it alone, but Seokjin and Jungkook had no problem handling just one blind and deaf Deviant.
Jungkook summoned his twin golden Valkyrie swords and twirled around the Deviant like he was dancing around rather than fighting, leaving clean gashes on the Deviant’s skin and finally cutting a limb off.
The Deviant shrieked in pain and Namjoon fell to his knees and was barely holding himself up. Jimin rushed in to loop one of Namjoon’s arm around his own shoulder. “I got you,” He whispered.
Namjoon didn’t answer, but he smiled a little in gratitude.
Seokjin closed one eye and aimed with his fists, powering up his entire arm with golden energy and firing it. The energy was so powerful that he could set up an atomic bomb with just one of his blows.
The Deviant that was significantly weakened and tired out under Jungkook’s attack grew weak, its struggle a lot smaller now. It just made it easier for Seokjin to aim.
One blast of energy shot out of Seokjin’s hand. The last Deviant on Earth was blown into smithereens, and their job as Eternals ended here.
Jimin reopens his eyes and he swears he can hear a fucking lightbulb go off beside his bead like he’s in some cartoon. His jaw goes a little slack at the realization.
Deviants. There can only be one reason Arishem tells them about anything, and that’s Deviants. Everything about Jimin’s and the other six boys’ existence is about Deviants, and they only ever have a change in plan or action is because of Deviants.
There’s only one logical explanation to the disband of BTS.
They thought they killed the last one. The Deviants are back.
As much as he hates to admit it, Seokjin is doing okay.
“Alright, all done!” Seokjin says cheerfully, removing his mask and putting away the needle. “How do you like it?”
The high school kid sitting on the surgical chair takes his time to take a look at his new tattoo, gasping in admiration. “It’s so cool!” He exclaims. “Miguel, look!”
A slightly older kid who must be Miguel and the first kid’s older brother glances at the tattoo and nods in approval, a similar gleam of excitement in his eyes. “You should really open up some Instagram or Twitter account,” He says, his hand hovering above his kid brother’s tattoo. “I would totally follow you and make my friends follow you too.”
It’s an intricate geometric tattoo that strings together an anchor, a compass, and a pocket watch with an arrow, with dotted Morse code lining along its stem. Those are some of Seokjin’s favorite elements to put into tattoos because they all have such important meaning to him. But that’s a story for some time else.
Instagram and Twitter. Seokjin won’t risk exposing himself on the Internet. It might seem impossible to track him down but he’s not taking any chance. He doesn’t even have a phone, so the risk of being found is close to zero and has been that way since their disband.
Seokjin shakes his head to distract himself. It’s a happy day and he’s not about to ruin his good mood.
“I don’t like social media, though,” Seokjin says carefully, sitting back against his chair. “Tattoos look different and a lot better in real life.”
Miguel just shrugs. “Guess you’re right. You’re really good, though. Maybe someday when I get drunk I’ll bring my friends over.”
“You should get it now!” The kid brother says excitedly and pulls his brother to sit on the surgical seat. “I’ll pick one for you!”
“Wait, Felipe, no—” Miguel shouts as Felipe runs over to the shelves as tall as the ceiling filled with thick sketchbooks that Seokjin filled with drawings of tattoos, one per loose-leaf paper. Over the past year Seokjin had probably created tens and thousands of them, all of them so popular among his customers that they always have a hard time choosing one. Many of them end up getting more than one.
Miguel groans in frustration and shrugs helplessly at Seokjin. “Sorry. I’ll probably get one another day.”
Seokjin smiles brightly in response, heart aching a bit at how Felipe squeals in excitement when he finds a sketch. “You’re welcome any day. Remember, no online or phone reservations.”
Miguel lets out a sigh of relief and digs into his pocket to pay for Felipe’s new tattoo. “Thanks a lot. I’ll see you sometime.”
“Wait!” Seokjin yells as Miguel is just dragging Felipe out of the parlor. He waves with the money in his hand. “I don’t need tips!”
Miguel makes a face that probably says “deal with it, old man before disappearing out of the door with his cackling younger brother.
Seokjin slumps back into his chair and glances at the notebook, the page with the sketch of Felipe’s tattoo flipped open. He reaches for the notebook without moving an inch and flips through the pages lazily.
All of the tattoos he designs are big and small things he’s seen, heard, and felt in his extremely long thousand-year life, but he can’t help but notice how many of those hundreds of notebooks he’s filled are dedicated to his experience as Jin of BTS, not Seokjin the Eternal.
He opens up a page and sees the curvy line that draws the shape of a heart, the heart that vaguely resembles the heart on the Love Yourself: Answer album over. The flips to another page and there’s a crescent moon and in elegant cursive, Luna chico, brillas. It means Moonchild, you shine.
Then there’s one with Euphoria, and one with Taehyung’s fake zombie tattoo on the neck when they filmed the dance video for ON. There’s one with Jimin’s Youth behind the ear and Yoongi’s silhouette on a seesaw. There’s Hoseok’s Hope World and Seokjin’s Epiphany.
There’s one with the digital time 00:00 and one with the four circles of Wings. There’s love yourself and I do believe your galaxy and Shine, dream, smile and all the lyrics that hit hard on Seokjin. All the lyrics that ARMY used to put on their banners and write in their textbooks in class when they thought their teachers weren’t looking. The lyrics Yoongi wrote in random pieces of scrap paper that laid around the dorm, surprising anyone who stumbled upon them. The lyrics Namjoon scribbled down in his notebook he kept forgetting in the bathroom. The lyrics the maknaes, who were less experiences in songwriting, kept fussing over even after they were perfected already.
Then there’s one, Seokjin’s favorite. His fingers stop on the page with the four words that used to get him crying so hard his bandmates had to buy an entire new pack of tissues just for him.
Dream, hope, forward, forward.
Seokjin closes his eyes and snaps the notebook shut as if the words physically pain him, and they might as well do. Now that they have disbanded, Seokjin doesn’t know what those words mean anymore. His dream was to bring joy and inspiration to the world but he had lost ARMY to himself.
If he had been Kim Seokjin, an ordinary Korean boy. If he hadn’t been Seokjin, an Eternal with no family name and no room for his own dream. Having powers is really cool and Seokjin can’t imagine himself without them,
He’s only allowed a moment of silence when someone else comes in his parlor. Seokjin looks up tiredly, about to take another customer when he freezes.
Armed soldiers wearing the Spanish military uniform swarm into his parlor with their rifles pointing straight at him. It takes a a few seconds for them to all come in and surround Seokjin. “CNI! Hands in the air!” One of them shouts, motioning with his gunpoint to make Seokjin drop the notebook and get to his feet.
Shock freezes Seokjin temporary. What are they doing here? He literally did nothing but tattooing people for the past year.
A person wearing the same uniform but with some badges on his left chest walks in with a piece of paper in his gloved hand. He clears his throat. “Seokjin Kim, 30, citizen of South Korea and an undocumented immigrant in Barcelona, Spain . . .”
“Hi.” Seokjin offers one of his famously charming smiles with his hands in the air.
The military officer looks unaffected, though it’s hard to tell with those shades. “I need you to follow us. Not resisting arrest will make your journey a lot easier for both of us.”
“If you don’t mind,” Seokjin says calmly, his head running a hundred miles per second. “Can I know the real reason behind my arrest? Last time I heard, they don’t use an entire troop of soldiers to arrest an undocumented immigrant.”
The officer looks up from his paper. “There has been number of evidence pointing towards our suspicion that you have performed, or at least attempted to perform, magic of any sort that could potentially harm the public. We must eliminate all possible threats from non-humans at all cost.”
Of course. At some point in history, humans always go back to fearing and hating them because of their fear of the unknown and the more powerful force. They like to feel superior and won’t bow to more advanced beings in admiration. Instead of learning to improve themselves, they seek destruction of anyone who threatens their status as the top species of Earth.
“May I know who provided the evidence?” Seokjin says. He needs a bit more willpower to keep his voice steady now.
“No.” The officer deadpans.
Whoever exposed him could have exposed his brothers too. Seokjin refuses to imagine how scared and worried his brothers might be if they’re under arrest like he is right now.
Despite having lived for thousands of years now, his six dongsaengs are still like kids to him. Jimin has never pulled a trigger on any living thing before. Hoseok still faints at the sight of blood. Taehyung won’t get anywhere close to anything sharper than a pencil. Jungkook freezes up around anything with a vagina. Namjoon sweats buckets whenever he has to meet Arishem. Yoongi freaks out whenever one of them freaks out, which can be pretty often.
They are perfectly capable of protecting and taking care of themselves, that much Seokjin knows. But it hurts a lot more to see them hurt when Seokjin could’ve done something to help.
“That’s quite a troop you got here,” Seokjin continues to make small talk. Then he gives the officer a sweet smile, switching the language to Korean. “But you should bring bigger guns.”
That catches the officer off guard. “¿Qué?” He asks, alarmed.
It takes precisely half a second for Seokjin to generate energy from his hand. It glows hotter than a stove and when he raises it, a blast of energy launches itself out of his fist and sends the officer flying out of the opened door of his parlor. The officer flies at least ten feet before he lands hard on his back. Hopefully Seokjin didn’t break his back.
The soldiers react quickly and open fire on Seokjin, but he simply waved his hand and suddenly everything within a ten feet radius was blown backwards with enough force to give people concussions. That’s probably what happened to the soldiers because none of them come back up to their feet.
That’s it. It takes just a few seconds for Seokjin to defeat a troop of well-trained soldiers.
He quickly takes out all of his sketches, open the binders and grab all the loose-leaf papers. He puts them in a big fat folder and stuffs them in his backpack. He’s not going to abandon his art just because he’s going to run for his life.
Seokjin steps out of the parlor, giving it one last glance before walking away. What a shame. He had always loved Barcelona and leaving it makes him a little sad.
He barely has the time to react when he feels electricity coursing through his body and pain exploding in his every muscle. He doesn’t even have the energy to scream for help, not that the outcome will be any different if he does. He passes out before he can turn to see who the attacker is.
Hoseok has been running and hiding all his life. Running so he can reach innocent humans before the Deviants can and hiding them away so they don’t get harmed. Running so he can dodge any blow directed at him and hiding so no one will know where he’s gone. It doesn’t matter if you can run at the speed of light, because in the end you’ll end up exhausted and out of breath just like any regular human.
One day, Hoseok will have to stop running. He has a gut feeling that today is going to be that day.
Right in front of him is a creature he thought he would never see again. A black, muscled monster with four glowing eyes the same color as the one that follows him whenever he goes super-speed mode and a mouth that can open so wide it looks sick. The teeth aren’t the sharpest but they’re long and terrifying like those of some disgusting deep-sea fish. That’s something Hoseok has only been seeing in his dreams for the past five hundred years.
A Deviant. Hoseok never wanted to hear that word again.
It attacks with agility Hoseok never thinks is possible on it and Hoseok dodges, like he dodges all his problems. He shoulder-rolls away, his eyes never leaving the Deviant.
It’s a one-on-one battle. Hoseok was never the main character when it came to fighting; his bandmates’ powers are a lot more impressive and suited for combat than his, and it used to hurt him that he was just equipped with the power so his brothers could do their jobs. He was just a helper.
Now that Hoseok has all the Deviants’ attention to himself, he can’t get used to it.
He sprints and time slows around him. He can see every muscle on the Deviant moving at snail-speed, trying to twist it around to face him. It’ll never make it, though.
Hoseok gives the Deviant a nice punch on the cheek, carefully avoiding the badass teeth. Then he skips over to the Deviant’s leg, step on it, and twists it with his hands. He doesn’t even need to twist it hard because when time adds up the Deviant is going to feel like he’s shattered all the bones nearby.
Then he slows down, watching the Deviant fall with one disabled leg. It screeches, the sound sharp and too familiar to Hoseok’s ears. He still is pretty sensitive to random shouts and screams and screeches like this (not that he doesn’t make them himself whenever he gets scared shitless) so he covers his ears quickly and waits for it to stop.
He removes his hands and flexes his arm a bit. He screech has stopped, and a glance confirms his suspicion that he has already killed the Deviant without a scratch on his own body.
The Deviant is dead, but it’s not a victorious battle. Hoseok knows there are more, probably a lot more, and he knows he’s not going to be able to face them himself.
But it’s your time to shine, a voice supplies in his head. You’ve never faced a Deviant one-to-one before. You should do that more often and prove to them you’re worthy.
Hoseok just scoffs and shakes his head. If he’s really trying to prove his worthiness then he should keep his bandmates alive first. He doesn’t care that they’re not together anymore and that something is dividing them (whatever that is), because they’re still them and nothing’s changed. They are all great fighters, probably greater than he is, but they don’t know about the Deviants.
Hoseok is not going to risk their lives for his pride. He’s not going to stop hoping that they can be back together like they never parted.
J-Hope. You can never know how fitting that name is on Hoseok.
His power might seem a bit useless, but he plays a part that they all know is crucial. Namjoon is the leader, obviously, who unites people and sets course for humanity’s journey of growth and advancement. Yoongi builds humanity from scratch and raises them above his shoulder while destroying all that stands in the way. Seokjin guards humanity like a protective shield and blocks all hits from the enemy. Jungkook teaches humanity power and strength to stand up for themselves, pushing them forward towards the top of the predator-prey pyramid. Taehyung gives humanity visions of the future and inspires them to move forward on their own. Jimin shows humanity how it is possible to transform the world around them if they know how.
Hoseok? Hoseok runs fast. And if he goes even faster, he might even get to glimpse into the future, theoretically. He evacuates people when a fight’s coming up and when he halts suddenly after sprinting at top speed, the shockwave he creates can rival a bomb’s. He fights with the grace of a cat. He’s just as powerful as his bandmates but that’s not what Arishem or the outsiders see.
His power isn’t all he is. Hoseok is the ray of hope that dawns on the Eternals at times of danger. Yes, his power might not look too useful, but while the Eternals are who brought humanity together and forward, Hoseok was the one who brought the Eternals together and forward.
Hoseok had been successful in keeping the group intact for a very long while. What did he do wrong that made him fail?
Walking away from the Deviant’s body, Hoseok takes a deep breath before ducking and blending into the crowd that is watching. The people and street security cameras quickly lose sight of him though, because he’s that good at escaping and going around unseen.
His bandmates are good at hiding too, so even if he searches every inch on earth (which he can do and has done before), chances are he won’t even find a single trace of his bandmates’ existence, except of course the historical evidence that humanity couldn’t have survived without some supernatural help.
Hoseok feels sorry that he has to leave the Deviant’s body to the Japanese government to deal with. He can’t imagine how terrifying it must be for humans to see a dead body of some sick monster and witness a person singlehandedly killing it on camera.
Really, if it comes to this, Hoseok won’t even blame the government if they decide to arrest him and cut his brain open in their laboratory. He doesn’t blame or hate things he doesn’t know much about (unlike humans) so he’s going to be empathetic towards humans for doing that, even if it’s foolish to trust.
His bandmates always tell him to know better, but Hoseok still believes in the good in humanity even though it’s sometimes hard to see that.
He must have fallen too deep into his thoughts because the next moment he knows he hears people shouting around him, pushing each other to get away from him. “There he is!” Some woman shouts in Japanese.
Hoseok looks up to see a police helicopter aiming its spotlight right on top of him. It’ll never open fire because there’s too many civilians around, but that’s not going to stop them from coming down and forcing him to his knees with guns. Some police have already parked their cars somewhere nearby and shouting for each other. They’ll be here soon.
Hoseok raises his hands to show them he’s not armed, but he doesn’t try to defend himself. It was pretty clear that he was the one who killed the Deviant so there’s no point arguing anyway. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t broken any law killing a monster that would’ve killed lots of humans, so their only reason for coming is to contain him.
“Chill. It’s that thing you should be concerned about, not me.” Hoseok tells the nearest police officer and nods towards the Deviant.
“I don’t get to decide, okay?” The police officer grumbles. “Just lemme get these cuffs on you and we’re good.”
“I did nothing wrong, though,” Hoseok says patiently, raising his hand taller so the police officer can’t reach his wrists just yet. He feels a bit bad at taking advantage of his height. “I killed that monster for you. Shouldn’t you treat your hero to a dinner instead of arresting him?”
The police officer hesitates. “I told you. It’s not even my call. Just let me arrest you or they’re going to fire.”
“They can’t shoot me anyway.” Hoseok says nonchalantly, ignoring how the officer freezes. “They won’t get me just with those bullets.”
“You better watch your mouth, boy.” The officer warns. “Every word you say can be testified against you in the court . . .”
“Assuming you can get me to court.” Hoseok says, and pauses. Normally Seokjin would insert a joke right here, but Hoseok’s nowhere as talented in that field. “You know, I’m pretty fast. Can you keep up?”
That’s one harmless trick Hoseok plays on people that can both show them he’s not one to be messed with and allow him to run away without having to hurt anyone.
“What the . . .” The officer freezes, wide-eyed, as Hoseok who was right in front of him disappears into thin air.
Namjoon pats the bearded man good-naturedly and steps back, offering him a carefully practiced grin that looks incredibly natural with his dimples popping out and all, but anyone can see that the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “It was nice doing business with you,” He says, keeping his voice cheerful and innocent.
The man spits into Namjoon’s face, and Namjoon refrains from growling and ripping the man apart. If the man’s wrists hadn’t been handcuffed to his back and if the multiple FBI agents didn’t point their guns at his head, Namjoon is sure he would’ve beaten Namjoon up. Tried to, at least.
“You traitor,” The man screams in Italian. “You dirty fucking traitor, wait til I come back for your traitorous ass and skin you alive.”
This man happens to be the leader of the most influential and dangerous international mafias in the world and Namjoon happens to be one of the mafia’s most trusted affiliates who always has nice, useful classified information that no one can seem to get. What the entire gang didn’t know was that Namjoon is also one of FBI’s affiliates who has been leaking classified information about the mafia since forever.
“Guess I’ll see you again.” Namjoon says, his smile still wide. “Until then, you have my blessing. Your years at the jail will be tough ones.”
“Fuck!” The man starts writhing around in the hold of a broad and muscular agent to no avail. “Fuck you! I’ll find you and . . .”
Then the man is stuffed into the car.
“To be honest,” Another man says from behind Namjoon. Namjoon turns to see a short, wide man with thick black glasses and a permanently serious look plastered on his face. Namjoon recognizes him as M, like that guy in the Kingsman movie. M is a superior at FBI. “We all were skeptical about you at first. You came out of nowhere and offered help just like that. Now we see how capable you are, we can’t help but become even more suspicious.”
Namjoon shrugs. The suspicion to be expected. “I told you, I just wanted to help. No other goals in mind.”
M raises an eyebrow. “You know you have to file in a report of this operation, right? You told us details already but I want them on papers. And leave your real name this time.”
Namjoon chuckles good-naturedly, intentionally scratching his neck so he appears a bit hesitant and embarrassed. “Sure, if you use yours.”
M narrows his eyes. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes that reminds Namjoon of Bang PD, who looks at him the same way whenever Namjoon reports that he breaks another expensive producing equipment. Namjoon shudders a little but hides it well.
“Are you serious, boy?” M’s voice is calm, but there’s that tone behind his words that warns Namjoon not to say anything stupid. “You either tell me your name or you get suspended as the nation’s top wanted people. Do you not know how the world works in our line of work? You either prove your identity or you are deemed guilty. It doesn’t matter how big of a favor you had done.”
Namjoon nods along, tight lips thinning a little. “Yeah, I know. You’re not going to get my name and that’s final.”
M’s eyes widen. “Who do you think you are to . . .”
He stops abruptly. Unwillingly too, of course, because it’s Namjoon he’s facing right now.
Namjoon doesn’t blink an eye as he listens closely to everything inside M’s head, all the thoughts that have ever passed through his mind since the man’s birth. Memories M probably didn’t think exist and names of people Namjoon can’t recognize. Every passing image, smell, sound, and emotion all pour into Namjoon’s mind like they are his from the very beginning. People’s voices and sounds of gunshot.
Mind reading used to be tiring, but Namjoon’s had enough practice over the years.
It takes Namjoon almost no effort to command M’s actions. “Hmm, I think we are done here.” M says robotically, reading word-for-word the script inside Namjoon’s head. “Have a very nice day.”
Namjoon waves his hand cheerfully and watches as M walks away like a zombie, completely unaware of Namjoon’s presence in his most basic decision making.
That’s also how he built such a tight relationship with the leader of that Italian gang leader so quickly. It only takes a few tweaks in someone’s mind for Namjoon to completely take over their conscious thought and read everything there is in their brain.
The agents don’t even suspect anything when M walks pass them, shouting orders around and driving the cars, along with the gang leader, away, leaving Namjoon standing at the supposed crime scene that is an evacuated city park. Namjoon has already perfected the art of extreme persuasion to the point that no one has ever been able to catch him in the act or resist his control.
All except for one, of course. Arishem, who controls Namjoon.
Namjoon sighs when the world around him turns dark like whenever Taehyung does whenever the illusionist is in a bad mood, but this darkness is different. It’s almost threatening and pressuring.
“Arishem.” Namjoon says, his voice coming out more like a sigh.
He closes his eyes, focusing only on his sense of hearing. Every time he comes here he finds himself in the World Forge, where the Deviants and all Eternals were created.
He’s sick of finding millions of rows of mannequins of unborn Eternals that are still in the making. He remembered the first time Arishem showed them to him; he had been so excited to find out how Eternals were created, how the cosmetic energy that gave Eternals their powers was poured into those models. He had spent so much time with Arishem, learning about the real history of the universe and even helped with creations of other Eternals. Until he found he found a very specific model with a very familiar face.
Seokjin. All Eternals are beautiful creatures, but Seokjin still manages to surpass all of them. His every feature fits together in the golden ratio of a god, so incredibly perfect Namjoon used to think . . . still thinks . . . the celestial energy had blessed Seokjin with all the beauty in the world. And Namjoon is so lucky to be grouped with Seokjin, to be able to work on the same mission on the same planet.
But when he saw that model, all he felt was disgust and fear. He was disgusted that Seokjin had come from a fucking model, had been specifically designed to be the Seokjin he was without the freedom to become the Seokjin he wanted to be. He feared that the Arishem and the Celestials would use the same model and mass-produce armies of Seokjins: one with exactly the same appearance, personality, power, and beauty. To the point that this Seokjin, Namjoon’s Seokjin, would be replaced and forgotten.
He was horrified. He found the models of his brothers and himself. He begged Arishem to destroy them and tried to do destroy them himself when Arishem didn’t listen, but he was just transported back to Earth the moment he laid a finger on those models.
Namjoon stopped visiting the World Forge. His meeting with Arishem became less of a school’s field trip and more of a simple progress report from an employee to an employer. He never developed any kind of bond with Arishem to begin with and after that incident, they became even colder.
“Contemplate your next step very carefully, Namjoon.” Arishem’s omnipresent voice booms from everywhere at once. His mind is the only one Namjoon can’t read or control, his voice the only one Namjoon can’t decipher. “You must focus solely on your purpose on Earth. There is no place for your reckless emotions.”
“Maybe I’ll do that if you stop hiding things.” Namjoon says, his eyes still shut. He keeps his voice as calm as he did when he was talking to the Italian mob boss. “First our creation, then the Deviants we thought we decimated, then our real purpose. Please give me one good reason to keep my mouth shut and not tell the others.”
Only Namjoon knows about the World Forge. The six others still think they were born in a planet called Olympia, which is fake by the way. They still think they have killed the last Deviants when there are a lot more roaming around the corners of Earth. They still think they’re here just to protect humanity, not to make sure there’s enough intelligent life to start the Emergence, or birth, of a new Celestial Tiamut.
They still think they’re helping humanity. They don’t know they’re actually leading it to its destruction, because for Tiamut to be born, all life in Earth had to die.
Namjoon had kept the secret for so long. He doesn’t know how long he had wanted to tell it to his brothers because they deserved the truth as much as he was responsible to tell them, but he managed to. And when that day came, when that day when Namjoon learnt that the Deviants were still alive and that Arishem was starting the Emergence of Tiamut, he broke BTS up so the Deviants could live and the amount of intelligent life would never quite reach the required amount.
Namjoon couldn’t care less about the survival of humanity. What he did care was the survival of his six bandmates. He would kill them all with his own hands if it meant Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook could live. He wouldn’t care if Arishem would get angry or if he might get some severe punishment from this.
He only wanted them to live on. But after they were not just “the Eternals” but also “BTS,” the idols and saviors of millions of people across the planet, Namjoon became greedy. He wants everyone to live.
“I thought you understood what must be done.” Arishem sounds genuinely disappointed. Namjoon winces. “For more life to be created, life must be destroyed. The humans’ sacrifice would just be a stepping stone for more advanced and powerful races of intelligent species to emerge. I have already warned you against becoming attached to the planet, and now look how rogue you have become.”
Namjoon shakes his head, not accepting that as a good answer. “Not once did I resist any of your orders. You know this already, don’t you? I knew how many planets my team had built and destroyed. I knew you refreshed our memories every time we moved on to another planet. I knew you were really looking forward to Tiamut because apparently the intelligent life here on Earth is incredibly different from all the previous ones we’ve seen. Believe me, I know your motive and I understand completely. So if I, a very logical person, already accept your point but still choose to believe otherwise, my opinion must matter very much, right?”
Reasoning with Arishem is always a better idea than directly opposing and shutting him out. Namjoon learned it the hard way when Yoongi straight up built a fucking blackhole that swallowed up a big planet with a civilization of intelligent life that didn’t even have a chance to grow, just to express his hatred towards being controlled by Arishem. The same thing went for Jungkook, who once slaughtered an already incredibly advanced species singlehandedly when the he was forced by Arishem to save the said species instead of saving Hoseok, who nearly died from a Deviant attack. They had to go back to their ship and Arishem had to send an Eternal with healing powers to save Hoseok’s life.
Of course, none of them remembers. Namjoon doesn’t know why he remembers, but he does. And it makes his seven thousand years on Earth and many, many eons before then hard to endure.
It makes him feel like a traitor, not telling the truth. And it hurts every time.
Arishem takes a moment before responding. “One more chance. Take control of what’s causing with your poor decision making and take care of it. One more chance and you won’t get another.”
With that, Arishem tunes out. Namjoon is left alone again.
This time, with a real plan in mind.