Precious Self in the Storm • Seokjin [✔]

1 - The Letter

A few things before this story starts:

HUGE WARNING: While this fic does not necessarily have any extreme triggering elements (ie. self-harm, suicide), there are: vulgar language, symptoms of depression, self-hate, anxiety, panic attacks, and abandonment/rejection. If you're sensitive to any of the above, please don't read or read with caution.

The timeline of this story takes place in (nearly) the entirety of 2018. Just so we're clear.

I usually read and write at Archive of Our Own, so this is sort of my first published work on Wattpad. I hope I'm doing okay!

Title is from Epiphany. To nobody's surprise, I know. In fact, a lot of this fic is based around Epiphany and Awake.

Anyways, that's it and I hope you enjoy!

*****

Kim Seokjin has done a lot of things in his life.

He sang, danced, and lived a portion of his 20's in the middle on a concert stage. He's flown all around the world more than once, set foot on more countries than he can count.

He swam in oceans and rivers, hiked mountains, met stingrays, rode roller coasters, filmed a movie's worth of music videos, went to Hawaii, got attacked by zombies, got kidnapped that one time, got pranked for his birthday...the list keeps going.

He's seen and felt so much more than one person could ever imagine, him and his group. He's seen and met people from all kinds of places in the world, even dwelled a little into their culture every time they visit a country.

And above all, he has a family unlike anything else in the entire universe.

A makeshift one; put together by pure fate and a tiny company who just happened to put up posters for some audition.

But fuck, Seokjin is willing to give up his very life for these six other boys.

So. With all of this on his hands; a life made up of a colorful constellation, each star a piece of himself as he sees and feels more wonder throughout his career...

...isn't he supposed to be happy?

*****

In all honesty, Seokjin has an idea of how it all started.

A loud thump echoed through the dance room when he fell to the ground, hard. He gritted his teeth, getting a taste of his salty sweat that had strayed into his mouth. His hands burned from hitting the floor.

It was a cold night in early January when he stayed behind at the dance studio. It's late, and their tired choreographer had already grumbled about how he wants to go home.

Whatever had gotten into Seokjin that night did not allow him to get his moves right at all. His breath hot and muscles aching, it felt like his skin is masked entirely in sweat.

"Yah, Seokjin. Even Namjoon got it pretty quickly. What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry, coach," he mumbled.

"Try it again, from the beginning of the chorus. Your arms and legs weren't synchronized enough."

Seokjin's arms felt like dead weights, two rusty anchors strapped to his shoulders. His legs had been drained dry to the bones, set to break at any given time.

So when the music started, his feet tripped on absolutely nothing and his entire figure stumbled to the dance studio floor.

His choreographer sighed heavily.