The rain hadn’t stopped. It chased Yoongi from the train station in Seoul to the platform in Daegu, where it drummed relentlessly against the old metal roof overhead. He stood beneath it, staring at the empty tracks as the crowd around him thinned.

In his hand, his duffel bag felt heavier than it should, its strap cutting into his palm. He barely noticed. His mind was somewhere else—back in Seoul, back in his apartment, where the envelope with his name on it had waited for him like a curse.

Why am I going back?

He had asked himself the question a thousand times, yet he still didn’t have an answer. His feet had carried him here anyway, through the rain and noise and clamor, toward a place he had sworn he’d never return to. Toward home.

Yoongi’s lip curled at the word. Home wasn’t a place anymore. It was a memory—fractured and sharp, cutting him every time he let it surface.

“Min Yoongi?”

The voice startled him, dragging him back to the present. He turned to find a man standing in front of him, wearing a dark raincoat and holding a small sign with Yoongi’s name scrawled across it.

Yoongi nodded stiffly, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Yeah.”

“The car’s waiting outside,” the man said. “Your brother sent me.”

Yoongi said nothing as he followed the driver out of the station, the rain immediately soaking through his coat as soon as they stepped into the open air. The black car was sleek and familiar, parked at the curb like a reminder of all the things he had left behind.

The drive to the mansion was quiet. Yoongi stared out the window, watching the city blur past in muted colors. Daegu hadn’t changed much. The streets were the same, the buildings old and worn, the signs faded but familiar. If Yoongi hadn’t known better, he might have thought time had stopped here.

But time hadn’t stopped. It had dragged him forward, kicking and screaming, into a future he didn’t want.

The mansion loomed on the horizon long before they arrived, its ivy-covered walls cutting a jagged silhouette against the overcast sky. As the car slowed to a stop in front of the gates, Yoongi felt his chest tighten.

He hadn’t seen this place in years. Not since—

The driver cleared his throat, pulling Yoongi out of his thoughts. “We’re here.”

Yoongi stepped out of the car, his shoes crunching against the gravel driveway. The gates creaked open ahead of him, and the familiar path to the front door stretched out like a challenge. For a moment, he stayed where he was, his feet refusing to move.

Then the door opened, and Seokjin appeared.

“Yoongi!”

Seokjin’s voice carried across the courtyard, calm but firm, like it always had been. He stepped outside without hesitation, his coat draped over his shoulders despite the rain. His face lit up when he saw Yoongi, but there was something else there too—relief, tinged with worry.

Yoongi shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. “Hyung.”

Seokjin closed the distance between them in a few long strides. Up close, the years that had passed were more obvious. Seokjin’s face was still sharp and handsome, but there were faint lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“You came,” Seokjin said, his voice soft.

“I said I would,” Yoongi muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“And I wasn’t sure if you meant it,” Seokjin replied. He looked Yoongi up and down, taking in his thin frame, his damp clothes, the dark circles under his eyes. “You look—”

“Don’t say it,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice sharp. He knew exactly what Seokjin was going to say.

Seokjin pressed his lips together but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and gently took the duffel bag from Yoongi’s shoulder. “Come inside. You’ll get sick standing out here.”

Yoongi followed reluctantly, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as they crossed the courtyard. The house loomed ahead, its tall windows glowing faintly in the dim light. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the past pressing down on him like a physical force.

As they entered, the warmth of the house hit him immediately, along with the faint smell of cedar and old books. The grand foyer stretched out before him, its marble floors and sweeping staircase exactly as he remembered. But something about it felt wrong. Too quiet. Too empty.

“Taehyung!” Seokjin called, his voice echoing through the halls. “Yoongi’s here!”

Yoongi’s stomach churned. He hadn’t seen Taehyung since he was a teenager. The youngest of the three brothers, Taehyung had always been the most carefree, the one who could make a room feel alive with nothing but a smile. But Yoongi had left him behind, too, cutting himself off from the only family he had left.

“Hyung?”

The voice was deeper now but still unmistakable. Yoongi turned just as Taehyung appeared at the top of the stairs, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he stared down at them.

For a moment, Taehyung didn’t move. He just looked at Yoongi, his expression unreadable. Then he descended the stairs quickly, his steps light but purposeful.

When he reached the bottom, he stopped a few feet away, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweater. “You actually came,” Taehyung said, his tone somewhere between disbelief and relief.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

Taehyung hesitated, his gaze flicking between Yoongi and Seokjin. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and hugged Yoongi tightly.

Yoongi froze, his body stiff as Taehyung’s arms wrapped around him. He wasn’t used to this—this warmth, this familiarity. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I missed you, hyung,” Taehyung said, his voice muffled against Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I… I missed you too.”

Taehyung pulled back, his smile faint but genuine. “You look terrible, though. Seokjin-hyung’s right.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Thanks.”

The moment was brief, but it was enough to loosen the knot in Yoongi’s chest.

“Come on,” Seokjin said, breaking the silence. “You must be starving. Dinner’s ready.”

Yoongi followed his brothers into the dining room, his footsteps hesitant but steady. The house was still the same, but with Taehyung and Seokjin beside him, it didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

But as he sat down at the table, his gaze drifted toward the empty seat at the far end, the one that had always belonged to their father.

And just like that, the weight returned.

.................................