The Rise Begins
The following weeks were a blur.
Endorsements poured in like rain in monsoon season. Coffee brands. Skincare. Headphones. Shoes. Luxury fashion.
Jungkook's inbox flooded with photoshoot requests. His tattoos—black ink peeking from his forearm, crawling slightly onto his bicep—made headlines.
"Tattooed Rookie Turns Industry On Its Head!"
"Golden Boy with Inked Skin: The New Face of Power Youth"
Meanwhile, Jimin's sensual stage presence had fans swooning, and Taehyung's quirky charisma was eating up variety shows. Their first ad as a trio—promoting ice cream—was so chaotic it trended for three days.
Taehyung flopped on the couch. "Bro, we're everywhere."
Jimin sipped tea, scrolling through memes of his own dance break. "We're a virus."
Jungkook, half-asleep, murmured, "Good virus though."
Taehyung held up his phone, showing an ad for luxury watches—with Jungkook in it.
"You're a walking brand now."
Jungkook groaned. "I just wanted iced coffee and dance practice. Now I'm Dior's inked baby."
They all laughed.
But they knew—they were just getting started.
*
*
*
The studio air was thick. Not from humidity—but from tension.
Jimin adjusted his posture, watching the mirror as Hobi counted them in. Jungkook's moves were clean—but forceful. A little too forceful. Each step landed like it wanted to make the floor crack.
"Again," Hoseok called out.
They did.
Taehyung glided across the beat. Jimin matched the rhythm. But then Jungkook missed a transition, and the formation broke.
Jimin stopped. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Jungkook said flatly.
"You looked off."
"I said I'm fine. You were off, too."
Jimin's brows knit together. "I wasn't."
"You always think you're perfect."
Hoseok raised a hand, warning. "Jungkook."
But he was already going. "Not everyone grew up dancing in studios with mirrors and flowers, okay? Some of us actually have to work harder."
The room went silent.
Jimin stepped forward, voice calm but sharp. "Let's talk. Outside."
Jungkook hesitated—but followed.
Out in the hall, the tension exploded.
"You think you're the only one under pressure?" Jimin said, voice rising. "I came from Busan too. I gave up school. Friends. I trained until my body broke."
"I know," Jungkook snapped. "But everything's on me now. They all expect me to carry it. Be perfect. Be cool. Be strong. I can't mess up—"
"So that gives you the right to talk like that?"
Silence.
Jimin's jaw clenched. "Forget it. If you can't talk without punching people with your words, I'm not going to care anymore."
He walked away, footsteps loud and final.
Jungkook didn't stop him.
The streets were a blur.
Jungkook wandered through alleys and unfamiliar buildings. Neon signs flickered. Laughter from a pub echoed somewhere, but he felt cold.
His hands shook as he pulled his phone out.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
One more time.
Finally—Jimin's tired voice: "What?"
"I'm lost."
A pause.
"I don't know where I am. Seriously."
Another pause. Then Jimin sighed. "Get in a cab. Tell the driver to go to our company building. I'll be there."
Twenty minutes later, the car slowed. The building lights stood tall—familiar. Safe.
And there was Jimin.
Arms crossed. Face unreadable.
Jungkook stepped out. Walked over slowly. Then stopped.
"I'm sorry."
Jimin stared at him.
"I didn't mean it. I was just..." He looked down. "Angry. At myself. And I took it out on you."
Without another word, he moved forward and hugged him.
Jimin let out a breath. Then hugged back. Tight.
From behind them, Hoseok's voice: "So dramatic."
They turned to see him with Taehyung.
"I once fought with Yoongi-hyung over footwork," Hobi said, shaking his head. "Didn't speak for two weeks. This? This is a blessing."
Taehyung just grinned. "At least you two didn't break furniture."
Later That Night: Rooftop Confessions
The city lights glimmered below them. Jungkook sat on the edge, cigarette lit, smoke curling into the cold air.
Jimin joined him, handing him water.
"I used to smoke when I got stressed," he said.
Jungkook nodded, eyes distant. "I didn't even think this would be hard. But people watch everything. My hands. My face. My mistakes. My tattoos."
Jimin looked at him. "You're not alone, you know."
"I feel like if I mess up, it'll drag all of us down."
"You won't," Jimin said quietly. "But even if you do... I'll be there. And so will Taehyung."
Jungkook's eyes welled up again. He blinked fast.
"I'm scared," he admitted.
"That's okay."
Next Morning
Practice resumed.
Hoseok stepped into the studio, coffee in hand.
His eyes landed on Jungkook.
"Why do you look like you cried through a K-drama marathon?"
Taehyung snorted.
Jungkook just smiled sheepishly, rubbing his red puffy eyes. He couldn't even open them.
Hobi waved his hand. "That's it. No practice today. I'm taking you all out for ice cream and cake. My treat. I can't train kids who look like kicked puppies."
Jimin grinned. "Does this mean we fight every week now?"
Hobi groaned. "Don't push it."
*
*
*
*
Their first variety show was a hot mess.
Jimin accidentally swore during a tongue twister challenge.
Taehyung knocked over a whole tray of water bottles trying to do a sexy pose.
Jungkook—shy but competitive—got so into a balloon-popping game that he fell off the stage.
The host wheezed from laughing. Fans at home lost it. Memes exploded within minutes.
"The Trinity is unhinged," one comment read, paired with a clip of Jimin trying to rap with a kazoo in his mouth while Jungkook screamed from across the set:
"Hyung, STOP. You sound like a dying pigeon!"
Then came the international schedule.
Their first overseas trip—Los Angeles.
They were prepared for chaos.
But what they got... was calm.
Fans greeted them at the airport with cheers, but kept their distance.
Some held signs. Others just waved shyly, phones in hand.
A few came close enough to ask:
"Picture?"
Click. Smile. "Thank you!"
Then they walked away.
No one screamed. No mobbing. No grabbing.
They stood there stunned.
"I feel like I just met a fan ghost," Taehyung whispered.
"They said thank you," Jungkook muttered.
"And then left," Jimin added, dazed.
Over the next few days, they roamed.
Coffee shops in Silver Lake.
A ramen joint in Koreatown.
Even a rooftop bar where Taehyung got recognized and ended up taking selfies with the bartender.
Their photos started going viral online:
"Trinity Spotted: Casual Kings Eating Burgers in L.A."
"Is That Jungkook at Starbucks?"
"Jimin Dancing in a Club?!"
One video, blurry but electric, showed Jimin in all black, surrounded by girls on the dancefloor.
He wasn't doing anything wild—just vibing. Flirting, smiling, letting loose.
Back home, K-netz had a meltdown.
"He's too flirty."
"Is this how idols act?"
Jimin didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
Instead, he posted a selfie the next morning: no caption, just a peace sign.
Clubbing became their escape.
No lights. No cameras. Just music and anonymity.
Jungkook lost himself in the bass.
Taehyung flirted with the DJ until she let him pick a song.
Jimin? He owned the dancefloor like it was his second stage.
They were young. They were idols. But here, they were just guys.
The drinks helped. The rhythm helped more.
They clinked glasses, yelling over the music.
"To freedom," Taehyung shouted.
"To this moment," Jungkook echoed.
"To us," Jimin added, eyes bright.
They were reckless. Happy. Unapologetically alive.
And somehow, even with chaos back home—they were grounded. Together.
After their wild run abroad, the Trinity returned home. Jetlagged, sun-kissed, and hungover on nostalgia.
Their phones buzzed as soon as they landed.
Yoongi: "Come to the studio."
They walked into a dark-lit room with that distinct scent of sage, wires, and something warm. Yoongi sat at the console, nursing a glass of whisky, face unreadable.
"I want you three on a track," he said. "Jin hyung too."
He hit play.
A haunting piano filled the room. The beat was slow, the words gut-wrenching.
"Dream, I will be there for your creation until the end of your life..."
They listened in silence.
When the demo ended, Jimin leaned back and exhaled.
"Damn, hyung... who hurt you?"
Yoongi only chuckled. "You'll understand one day." He took a sip of his drink. "Or maybe you won't. But you'll feel it."
Recording "So Far Away" was a sacred thing.
Jimin's voice floated like wind.
Jungkook's notes pierced through like light.
Jin, surprisingly emotional, grounded them in warmth.
Taehyung's deep voice was like a kiss from heaven.
Yoongi rapped off in the corner, like he wasn't even in the same room—but somehow, his voice wrapped around theirs like thread.
When the song dropped, it exploded.
Trending worldwide. Fans dissecting every lyric.
"Is this about depression?"
"Yoongi hyung really said here's my soul, take it."
"The Trinity sounds like angels."
"You can't deny Mr. Worldwide Handsome. His voice was chef's kiss."
They performed it for the first time on a special stage.
Soft lights. A stripped-down set.
Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook stood side by side, voices blending like silk and scars.
Yoongi stood a little off to the left. Mic in hand. Eyes focused, jaw tight.
He didn't perform it like a song.
He performed it like a confession.
And by the time they sang the last note—"so far away..."—you could hear fans sniffling in the silence.
Backstage, Jungkook found Yoongi leaning against a wall, pulling out a cigarette.
He hesitated, then joined him.
They smoked in silence for a while, letting the nicotine cut through the high of it all.
Then Yoongi turned to him. "Your voice..." he muttered. "It's not just pretty. It's heavy. It means something."
Jungkook looked away, sheepish. "Hyung..."
"If you want to try doing an album," Yoongi added, "I'll produce. I mean it."
Jungkook smiled, nervous and overwhelmed. "You think I can pull it off?"
Yoongi tapped his ash. "I know you can."
And in that moment, under the hum of stage lights and leftover applause, something shifted.
Not just a promise.
But a beginning.