BTS ONESHOTS

All of My Luck

Seokjin misses the hustle and bustle of his city.

It's a concoction of bright LED lights blended in with the dimmed yellow of the street lights, the hurried footsteps of pedestrians and loud chatter, concrete walls covering the sky, with hues of blue peeking out from the dull grey buildings. The stank of alcohol, mixing with the warm scent of coffee. Order in between all the chaos, the constant but endearing hum of a metropolis.

Seokjin misses all of that.

For years, war raged, and people lost their homes, family and beloved ones. Cities fall and people migrated out of them. All in a sudden, the countrysides' population increased, and it was all like hundreds of years ago, where there was little to no technology. People started communicating with each other not unlike friends, but alertness was clear in their eyes.

The war isn't over yet. Almost, but not yet.

Lots and lots of years ago, Seokjin remembers. He was a member of a boy band. Step by step, they rose to success, with lot's of blood, sweat and tears shed. Heck, they even used that phrase as the title of a song, he chuckles bitterly. They were famous, internationally. They were sweethearts, they won the heart of fans all over the world. But peace ended and chaos started.

They were forced to enlist, all of them. Even the youngest member, who was barely of age. Seokjin remembers the last day of peace he's ever known, inside their spacious dorm striped bare of everything they own. He remembers Yoongi's hand clenching the enlistment papers, he remembers Jimin and Taehyung holding little Jungkook's hands, eyes red and damp. He remembers finding Namjoon in the bathroom shaving his hair off, he remembers Hoseok smiling for one last time before disappearing behind the heavy oak door. 

No one said anything as they waved goodbye to their home, to their short-lived happiness. Seokjin, with a shaky low voice, made them promise, if they ever find themselves still breathing after everything has ended, to come back to where they used to be at. The desperate undertone of his voice was never unnoticed.

In striking contrast of the usual lively mood, no one said anything.

XXXXXXX

Sunlight fall unshielded on Seokjin, warming him up. It is late autumn, and he's just feeling the slightest bit of chill from the breeze. He looks up to the ruins of the city, his beloved city. The sidewalks paved by bricks are all coated with grey, from the gunfire and the bombs. The buildings are desolated if not demolished, paint peeling off their surface. Although he's mentally prepared for the wreckage he might face, Seokjin was still stunned by the lifeless aura the whole city gives out. The only sound he can hear is his own breathing.

Seokjin reaches into his coat, and pulls out a small piece of paper. Upon closer inspection, it is a photograph. Seven men smiled brightly together, in front of the vast sea, sunset painting the waters golden. Since the war started, Seokjin haven't heard a single thing from any of them. This is a war, he told himself repeatedly, not some simulated game. Fate is cruel, and bad things can happen to his brothers. 

War is ending soon, but not quite yet. Seokjin's region had fought hard, and won. He proudly retired from his position, and was given a place to live and basic necessities. Seokjin has accepted the offer since he has nowhere to go, but his heart yearned for six more bodies, six souls that will complete him.

The train from his place to where he is standing now took two hours. It was not a ride of despair, Seokjin has realised with glee. People were actually smiling as they read the papers about how the war is going smooth, and places are being retaken back. But one by one, the passengers got off the train. By the time he reached the city, he was the only one on the train. The usher had looked at him weirdly, but he had nodded at him.