Threads of fate

BTS had officially entered their second year after debut, and while their success was still modest, the group was slowly gaining traction. Their performances were becoming more polished, their fanbase was growing steadily, and they were finally beginning to feel the ripple effects of their hard work.

In their small dorm, excitement buzzed in the air. They were preparing for their next album, which would mark a significant step in defining their identity as a group. The members gathered in the living room, brainstorming ideas while munching on snacks Jin had prepared.

“So, what do we want this album to say about us?” Namjoon asked, sitting cross-legged with a notebook open in his lap.

“We should talk about what we’ve been through,” Yoongi suggested. “Our struggles, our dreams, and how we’re still fighting for them. People relate to that.”

Hoseok nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, something raw and real. Something that shows who we are, not just as idols but as people.”

Taehyung leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “We should also make it fun, though. Show different sides of us.”

Jimin smiled, adding, “Like how we’re not just hardworking—we’re also goofy and weird.”

Everyone laughed at that, knowing how true it was.

Jin, sitting quietly until now, spoke up. “Whatever we do, let’s make sure it’s something we’re proud of. Something that shows our teamwork and how far we’ve come.”

Jungkook, who had been doodling on a piece of paper, looked up and nodded. “I think we should show that we’re growing, too. Like how we’re finding ourselves along the way.”

Namjoon grinned, his leader instincts kicking in. “Alright, let’s do this. Let’s make this album something unforgettable—for us and for ARMY.”

The following weeks were grueling. The members spent countless hours in the studio, recording tracks, perfecting their choreography, and discussing concepts. Each song felt like a piece of their soul, carefully crafted to convey their message.

Yoongi often stayed up late, tweaking beats and lyrics. Hoseok worked tirelessly on the choreography, ensuring every move was precise yet expressive. Namjoon balanced writing lyrics with keeping everyone motivated, while Jin took on the role of caretaker, making sure they were eating and resting properly.

One night, as they rehearsed a particularly challenging routine, Jungkook’s frustration got the better of him. He slumped to the floor, his head in his hands.

“I can’t get this move right,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.

Hobi crouched beside him, his expression calm and reassuring. “It’s okay, jungkook. You’ll get it. Just take a deep breath and try again. We’re all here to help you.”

Encouraged by hobi’s words, Jungkook stood up and tried again, this time nailing the move. The room erupted into cheers, and Jungkook grinned sheepishly, his confidence restored.

The BTS dorm was unusually quiet that night. Most of the members had gone to bed early after a long day, but Jungkook was wide awake, his notebook spread open on the table in the shared living room. The youngest member scribbled down words and phrases, pausing occasionally to tap the pen against his chin, deep in thought.

He had been secretly trying to write lyrics—a habit he had picked up while watching Yoongi and Namjoon work on songs. Though shy about it, Jungkook had been quietly jotting down lines whenever inspiration struck.

As the night wore on, he found himself stuck on a particular verse. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. That’s when he heard footsteps behind him.