Sun and Moon

Thirty ♡

Hope's POV

I jogged off the stage, panting, my heart feeling almost like it would beat out of my chest. The moment we left the stage, we began stripping out of our clothes, the staff swarming in on us, two helping me change, one patting my forehead with a cloth and holding up a portable fan to my face, another touching up my makeup as I just focused on evening out my breathing. I didn't even need to look to see what the other guys would be doing, and usually unless someone had made a mistake or was injured or ill, I just focused on getting myself ready as we all had very limited time between songs to get changed and touched up. I knew each of their patterns by heart. But I was still worried about our leader and so sought to catch sight of him, craning my neck. After all, he may not have been physically injured, but the emotional  injury he had suffered this week was no less real than Jungkook's heel injury had been.

I looked past Yoongi, who was always quiet and focused inwardly, tired like the rest of us, but with an uncharacteristic excitement in which glimpses of a 20-year-old freshly debuted Suga could be spotted; Jimin who was utterly spent, his body on the verge of collapsing because he did nothing halfway. Every song, he danced like it was his last, but especially Black Swan, which we had just finished and in which his passion shined. Jungkook beside him was breathing hard but still smiling and laughing, joking with the others, truly showing he was the youngest with his stamina. In typical fashion, Jin was next to him, hamming it up, acting like he was going to collapse when in fact, he was in as good of shape as the rest of us and no more tired. Tae was laughing at Jin's antics as he got undressed and re-dressed by his stylist. And finally, my eyes found Namjoon.

I sighed in relief as I saw him stretching and jumping up and down as usual, his adrenaline pumping and keeping him from settling down at all. He almost went into another world when performing, seemingly with little awareness of his surroundings, his adrenaline putting him into an almost dazed state until towards the end of the show when the songs were winding down and we started our closing ments. I remembered the time when he had run around the stage, spraying a water bottle at army and not even noticing that he drenched Yoongi in the process. We all had teased him mercilessly since that happened, which he had taken with grace, even if he was a little abashed. Now, while he wasn't looking my way, my eyes combed over him carefully to try to find any signs that anything was amiss. He seemed to be acting mostly normal, stopping his movement long enough for a stylist to touch up his makeup and put his last articles of clothing on, before jumping around and stretching again. There was a tightness to his eyes that wasn't usually there, but considering the state he'd been in last night, he was doing much better than I expected today. Feeling thoroughly relieved, I focused on getting my last items of clothing and jewelry on and returning to my position in preparation for running back on stage.

After the concert, when we all had gone to our rooms and were cleaning up, I had resigned myself that I probably should stay at the hotel tonight and keep Namjoon company. As much as I loved him, my heart ached at losing one of my precious remaining nights with Luna. But my brother came first and I wouldn't leave him in pain. I was getting out of the shower and toweling my hair when I heard a knock at the hotel door. I walked toward it and Jimin's voice said, "Hyung, it's me." Figuring he was bored and lonely already, I smirked, and opened up the door, standing aside to let him in.

He was similarly dressed, in a t-shirt and basketball shorts, his hair damp and fluffy from the quick blow dry he had given it after his shower. He didn't hesitate, but strolled right in, jumping onto my tidy bed and bouncing slightly as he plopped down onto my now wrinkled covers, leaning back with his hands behind his head on my pillows and crossing his legs at the ankle.

"Make yourself at home," I joked, being all too used to this behavior from him. It was nothing new, having been roommates for so many years. Still, it was somewhat annoying, as Jimin knew I liked my room a certain way and often did things like this on purpose. As I glanced at him, it was hard to be too annoyed with him. There was no other word for it. The soft off-stage Jimin was adorable.