When the stars align

A Stolen Layover

The moment the wheels touched the runway in Incheon and the seatbelt sign chimed off, Taehyung pulled his phone from his coat pocket. His fingers moved without hesitation.

"Landed safely, jagi. Heading out now. I'll call you soon."

A minute later, the screen lit up with her reply:

"Sure. Take your time, eat well first."

He stared at the short message, a faint pang tugging at his ribcage. Even through text, he craved her voice.

Tucking his phone away, he pulled his cap low and walked through the private terminal exit. Waiting by an idling black van were familiar, chaotic silhouettes. Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook were standing in oversized hoodies, casual sweatpants, and beanies, grinning as they spotted him.

"Look who made it back alive!" Jungkook called out, slapping Taehyung's shoulder in greeting.
"Get in, get in," Jimin grinned, tugging him into a brief hug. "We cleared the night. Just us, food, some drinks, and no managers. Let's go."

Normally, Taehyung would have matched their energy instantly—bouncing on his heels, cracking a dry joke. But today, he just gave a weak, tired smile, tossed his bag into the back, and slumped into the leather seat beside the window.

They arrived at their private hideout, a warm, quiet lounge space where the brothers often unwound away from prying eyes. Food arrived, banter flared across the low table, and Jungkook was already laughing over a clip on his phone. But Taehyung sat on the edge of the sectional sofa, a glass of water untouched in front of him, staring blankly at the polished wood floor. He wasn't  coughing or sneezing. Yet he looked completely depleted—like someone whose vital spark had been quietly hollowed out.

Namjoon noticed first. He exchanged a subtle, knowing glance with Jimin, set his drink down, and slid over to sit beside him.

"Taehyung-ah," Namjoon said gently, placing a steady, grounding hand on his shoulder. "What's going on? You haven't been you since arrival. Are you sick?"

"No... not like that," Taehyung murmured. His voice was low, gravelly, carrying a raspy weight that made both older members pause. He pressed the heel of his palm against the center of his chest, right over his sternum, his knuckles white.

"I don't even know how to explain it. I can't control it. It just feels like... there's a whole storm trapped in my chest, and it's fighting to pour out, but it can't. It feels like someone dropped a massive stone right on my heart."

He looked up at them, his deep eyes unusually raw and vulnerable. "It actually aches."
A quiet stillness fell over the corner of the room.

Jimin sighed softly, a fond, sympathetic expression breaking across his face. "I knew it," he murmured, shaking his head. "I told you, you were never built for long distance. Look at him, hyung. The guy can't even function." Jimin gave a small, teasing smirk to soften the mood, nudging Taehyung's knee.

 "At this rate, you should just skip the waiting and get married already. Keep her right next to you so you can actually breathe and lift that stone off your chest."

Get married.

The words echoed inside Taehyung's head, triggering a sudden, sharp memory. His mind flashed straight back to the small, delicate lines written in her diary that he had accidentally glimpsed—the raw, painful doubt that had cut him to his core: Less than 5% chances are there.

The thought tightened the knot in his stomach even further. Five percent. She was secretly terrified their world would shatter them before they even reached that point, and here he was, barely surviving twelve hours apart.

Namjoon watched the subtle flicker of pain cross Taehyung's features, reading the deep conflict in his posture. "Call her, Tae," Namjoon said, his tone warm, thoughtful, and protective. "Don't sit here letting your head spin in circles. Hear her voice."

"Yeah, call her!" Jimin chimed in, suddenly shifting into full teasing mode to pull Taehyung out of the dark spiral. "Put her on speaker, too! We want to say hi to our future sister-in-law!"

Taehyung hesitated, but his heart had been screaming for it since he touched down. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

The line barely rang twice before San's voice came through, soft and a little hesitant. "Mio?"
Before Taehyung could even get a breath out, Jimin leaned right into the receiver, shouting playfully, "San! Annyeonghaseyo! We hijacked your man!"

"Wait—Jimin-ssi?" San's surprised laugh crackled through the speaker, instantly melting a fraction of the tension in Taehyung's shoulders.

"Yes! And Namjoon-hyung is here too!" Jimin declared dramatically. "Listen, San, you need to take responsibility! He just landed and he's already sick! Not a fever, Lovesick! He's sitting here sulking like a lost puppy whose owner ditch him!"

"Yah, Park Jimin, stop it," Taehyung groaned, his face flushing warm, though a genuine smile finally tugged at the corner of his lips as he tried to swat Jimin away.

Namjoon leaned down closer to the mic, chuckling softly. "Don't mind them too much, San. But he really did miss you the second he stepped off that flight. Take care of him, okay?"

"I will, Namjoon-ssi... thank you for watching over him," San replied, her voice gentle and laced with fond embarrassment.

"Alright, lover boy, we're giving you privacy before you start crying on us," Jimin laughed, patting Taehyung's head affectionately.

Namjoon stood up, tugging Jimin by the hoodie collar toward the kitchen to join Jungkook. "Let's leave them be. Come on, grab some food."

As the door clicked softly shut behind them, the lounge fell quiet again.

Taehyung pulled the phone to his ear, taking off speaker. He sank back against the cushions, listening to the quiet sound of her breathing on the other end, the invisible distance between Seoul and her apartment suddenly feeling both impossibly wide and miraculously small.